The Kidnapper (18 page)

“Steve, what’s wrong? You look so funny.”

“Tired.”

“Have another drink.”

“All right.”

“I’ll have one, too. Just one more itsy-bitsy one. And then, you know what we’re gonna do?”

“Sure.”

I had to think about it now, had to plan. And I was tired of thinking and planning. But here it was, starting all over again. I had to do it.

And meanwhile, Mary mustn’t know. Keep her happy, that was the way. The only way.

This time it was different. This time, the minute we got in there, she grabbed me in the dark. “Oh, darling, I couldn’t tell you this before, but I want you to know now, the way it made me feel because you did it, you killed a man for me, didn’t you, darling? That’s why I love you, because you’re strong and you aren’t afraid of anything, and—”

Christ, she went on like that, panting and panting and half-laughing and half-crying like she was crazy. And all I could think about was Specs. When she said the part about killing a man, I could see Specs’ face in the dark. His face, staring at me, the blood running down it, the eyes popping.

Then, when we were on the bed, she was clawing at me and I couldn’t hear what she said, couldn’t do anything, because I was watching that face.

So I pretended I’d passed out. After a while she lay down and went to sleep.

I stayed awake and planned. Maybe it was all for the best, the way she’d acted. At least, she’d made up my mind for me, once and for all.

It would be easy to kill her now.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I
could have killed her while she slept, of course. That was my first idea, and it wasn’t smart. I figured it out and I saw the answer right away.

If I killed her, and beat it, they’d find her. Sooner or later, no matter where I hid the body, they’d find her. And they’d know. Put two and two together. Specs dead and her dead. That would mean somebody was left, somebody with the money. Then they’d come looking for me.

And the Racklins could furnish them with a good description, too.

No, the smart way to play it would be to clear out of here with her. Go away, far enough away so nobody would know us. And then—maybe in a week, maybe in two weeks—a chance would come.

After that, I’d be free. Free, with two hundred grand in my pocket.

The minute I figured it out, I felt better. I felt so good I even was able to decide where we’d go, how we’d get there. And then I went to sleep.

I went to sleep and to hell with all of it. To hell with Specs’ face, and Shirley Mae in the oil drum and to hell with Racklin’s blue eyes—they were like my old man’s eyes, I remembered that now—and to hell with everything that happened this past week.

I slept.

I slept until she shook me and shouted in my ear. “Steve, Steve, for God’s sake, wake up! They’re coming!”

“Coming? Who’s coming?”

“The police, the police, Steve, wake up!”

I woke up all right. I was out of bed and across the room, digging into my coat pocket. “Where? Where?”

“Oh, not outside! Not yet. But I was just listening to the radio, the news. The coroner says it wasn’t an accident—something about all that blood on the blanket, and Specs wasn’t bleeding in the water. I didn’t understand it very well, I got so scared—”

“Take it slower. What’re you trying to tell me?”

She could hardly talk, she was that excited. “Anyway, they figured out there must have been somebody in another car, and the Sheriff says they’re going to search the whole lake area—check up on all the cottages and places to see if they can find clues. Steve, they’re coming, we’ve got to do something—”

“Damned right we do.” I grabbed her arm. “So don’t stand there and waste time talking. Get yourself packed. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”

I hit the john and shaved. It was a fast job, but I didn’t cut myself. I was calm. It was almost as though I’d expected something like this, and in a way I had. Nothing is as easy as it looks—there’s always a joker somewhere.

And suppose they looked. We’d be out of here and on our way.

Mary came in, putting on her makeup behind me.

“You ready?”

“I guess so. Steve, where are we going—Florida?”

“Uh-uh. You heard what Racklin said. He was right, and we’re taking his advice, even though he didn’t know he was giving any. No Florida for us—not yet. What we’ll do is head for Chicago. Take a plane out of there. Trans-Canada Airlines for Montreal, Quebec; whichever leaves soonest. We’ll go up to Canada for a while until this thing cools down. That’s our best bet to be safe.”

“Canada? But isn’t it cold up there?” Dumb broad, that was all she could think of. Canada was going to be plenty cold, for her.

“It’s summertime,” I said. “Nice in those parts. We can take a boat up through the islands, maybe rent a cabin for a while.” That would be a good spot for what I had in mind; a nice backwoods cabin. I’d get her out in a boat, perhaps, make it look like a real accident if I had to.

“I don’t want to go to Canada.”

“All right. We’ll talk about it later. The big thing now is to get out of here. Where’s my coat?”

“I’ll get it.”

I went in and took the suitcases off the bed, carried them out to the car. I checked the gas and oil—better than half full. I made sure the trunk was locked, then stuck the keys in the ignition. After that, there was time for one more quick look around the garage. Everything was straight. I opened the garage door.

Mary was still inside, sitting at the kitchen table. I called to her. “Come on, hurry up!”

She came out, carrying my coat, and locked the door behind her. I grabbed it, put it on. She gave me the house keys and climbed in the front seat.

I started to get in and she said, “Oh, Steve—I forgot my purse.”

“Jesus Christ!” I ran up the steps. “All right, I’m getting it.” How stupid can you get, I asked myself.

Yes, how stupid can you get?

Because I reached in my pocket, for the keys, and I noticed something all of a sudden. My gun wasn’t there.

“Mary! You got my gun?”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t hear me anyway, because of the engine. She’d started the car, and it was going down the drive.

I turned and ran for it. She shot out of the driveway, going like a bat out of hell, and turned onto the road. She didn’t even look at me.

For a minute I just stood there. Then I went back and opened the door and went inside the cottage. There was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do now except wait.

Her purse wasn’t there, of course; that was just a gag. But I found something else. That’s what she’d been doing at the kitchen table—writing me a note. I sat down and read it.

Steve:

Maybe when you read this you will find out that you are not the only smart one around here. I suppose you thought I didn’t know what you had up your sleeve. But I know you like a book now and after last night I can’t take any more chances. Because I am sure of one thing, that you don’t love me any more.

You thought you had me fooled, didn’t you. But I can tell. This morning when you said about going to Canada I was sure. I don’t want something to happen to me the way it did to Specs.

So I am leaving. Do not be mad, because it is only what you were going to do to me. Except that I am not a murderer and I am letting you off easy by not killing you.

There is no use trying to find me because I know where to go. And the police won’t believe you anyway because of the letter.

If you get away, maybe you will think twice before you try to pull a stunt like this again.

Mary

She was crazy, that’s all, just plain crazy. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” I said. “How can you figure the cops won’t get you? You left this note, didn’t you? Why, you won’t get ten miles before they pick you up, you dumb double-crossing little—”

I was crazy, too, because I wasn’t talking to her, I was talking to myself.

She was gone. The car was gone, the gun was gone, the money was gone.

I looked around. It was just ten o’clock. That reminded me of something. I ran over to the radio, switched it on.

Sure enough, the same announcer.

“—roadblocks have been set up at every crossing in the county. State police and a group of deputies numbering well over four hundred men are systematically combing the area in and around the lake shore in an effort to locate the whereabouts of—”

I went over to the radio and started to shut it off. Then something came over me all of a sudden, and I bent down instead and heaved the whole damn works over on its side. It crashed to the floor and lay there.

That did it. I knew they’d get her now. And they’d be coming after me.

Racklin was right. Somebody always cracks up, spoils the deal. I had my chance to kill her last night, and I muffed it.

Now there was nothing left to do but make a break for it. No gun, no car, no money—but the worst part was, I had no place to go.

No place to go.

I went out to the kitchen. The whiskey was all gone, but there was still some rum left. I filled a water-glass and took a swig. It tasted awful. Anything would have tasted awful to me, even champagne.

Because all of a sudden it hit me. Racklin and his theories about why guys pull a job like this—that was a lot of bull. Maybe they thought they wanted a lot of dough, just like I thought I did when I planned it. But now I knew it wasn’t the reason at all. It didn’t matter now whether I’d gotten away with the money or not; the money wouldn’t have helped. Because I really didn’t know
what
I wanted.

Just sitting around in some fancy bar wasn’t the answer, and neither was shacking up with a bunch of high-class broads. Sure, I’d have tried it for a while, but sooner or later I’d get sick of it.

It wasn’t real. That’s the answer. Nothing was real any more, hadn’t been since the kid died. And maybe for a long time before that. Maybe ever since I ran away from home.

Wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out that I was just like Specs and Mary, underneath? That all I really wanted was somebody around to love me? Specs wanted a woman, and Mary wanted me—maybe I just was looking for somebody a little more high class, and figured I couldn’t make the grade unless I had plenty of cash.

Could that be it?

Well, it didn’t matter, now. Nothing mattered, because I heard the sound.

The sirens were coming.

Sure enough, I looked out of the window and there they were. One second the road was empty and the next second it seemed the whole driveway and yard were full of them. Cars and motorcycles and cops.

They had a cordon around the house, riot guns and tommy guns and rifles. They stood there, waiting for orders, and it was very quiet now.

All at once a big guy got out of one of the cream-colored sedans. He had a badge on and I figured him for the Sheriff. Two state police stood right behind him and he was looking straight at me.

“All right,” he yelled. “We know you’re in there, Collins. No use trying anything—we picked up the girl down the road.”

I saw the Olds, now, parked outside the drive. Cops all around it.

“You’d better come out peaceful,” the Sheriff called. “I’m going to count to ten. After that, we’ll come in after you.”

I stood there, waiting. He began to count, and I just listened, wondering what he’d do next.

When he got to ten, he lifted his hand.

“Collins, I’m giving you one more chance! You don’t deserve it any more than a dog, but there’s been enough killing around here already. Come out on that porch with your hands raised and we won’t hurt you.”

To hell with him, to hell with all of them, let them shoot if they wanted to, I didn’t care. They hated me, they’d always hated me, even Mary hadn’t liked me except when I slapped her around.

I could tell this Sheriff wanted to kill me. Well, if I went out now, he wouldn’t have the guts to do it. At least I could get back at him that way.

So I opened the kitchen door.

“That’s right, Collins! Come on out—we want to see what a mad beast looks like.”

I raised my hands and then I stepped out on the porch.

“Take a good look,” I said.