1953 - The Sucker Punch Read online

  "Chad, darling, you wouldn't be sweet and come with me?"

  "I'm sorry, but Ryan Blakestone will be here in half an hour."

  "Oh well, I'd better get ready." She came over to me and took hold of the lapels of my tuxedo, smiling up at me. "Sure you're not worried about anything, darling?"

  "You fuss too much," I said, and taking hold of her I crushed my mouth down on hers.

  We remained like that for two or three ghastly seconds, and when I pulled away from her, she caught hold of my hands.

  "I needn't go tonight, Chad." There was that naked desire in her eyes I had seen at the Stadium. "We could be together."

  "We'll be together later," I said, turning away so she shouldn't see the horror on my face. "You go now. I have Blakestone in my hair until eleven."

  There was a long, awkward pause, then she said, "Tonight then, Chad."

  When she had left the room, I went over to the whisky decanter and poured a big shot. My hands were shaking as I drained the glass.

  A minute or so to nine she came in. She had on a white raincoat, a small black hat, and she was pulling on black leather gauntlet gloves.

  "Come with me to the garage, Chad."

  "If you'll excuse me, Vestal, I won't. I have some letters I must dictate before Blakestone comes."

  She gave a helpless little shrug.

  "I'm afraid I'm sometimes a nuisance to you." She looked at me, her eyes miserable. "Goodbye then."

  "Have a good time."

  As soon as I said it I realized the horror of those words, and I turned quickly so she shouldn't see my sudden change of expression.

  "I think I'll enjoy it. I'll be back about twelve-thirty."

  I heard her cross the room and go into the hall.

  “Is it still raining, Hargis?" I heard her say.

  "It doesn't appear to be quite so bad, madam. Can you manage?"

  "Oh yes. I won't be very late."

  As the front door closed behind her Eve came into the study.

  We looked at each other.

  She was pale, but there was an expression in her eyes I had never seen before. She didn't look scared anymore.

  "I brought a cap for you," she said in a whisper. "You mustn't get your hair wet."

  "Good girl."

  I pulled off the jacket and tossed it on to the chair.

  "It's up to you, now."

  "It's all right."

  I took the overall out of the desk drawer and got into it. She handed me the gloves and the cap.

  "You must hurry."

  "Take care of this end, Eve."

  "It will be all right."

  Looking at her I felt it would be all right. She had got her second wind now, and her nerves seemed steady.

  I dipped into the drawer again and brought out the sandbag.

  Eve moved away from me. I didn't look at her. I kept the sandbag down by my side, out of sight.

  "You must hurry." There was a little shake in her voice now. The sandbag had suddenly brought the setup to life.

  "I'll be back in half an hour. Keep your nerve, Eve. It'll work out all right."

  I went to the window, opened it and swung my leg over the sill.

  I looked back at her.

  She stood by the desk, watching me.

  "Good luck," I said.

  She nodded. I saw her lips move, but no words came. I let myself drop to the flagstone path. A moment later the window above me closed.

  It wasn't raining so hard now, but there was a stiff wind. I set off at a fast clip towards the garages.

  Vestal had further to go than I had. She followed the coverway, and could walk from the house to the garages without getting wet.

  I had to cross the lawn.

  It was nearly pitch dark. I had no fear that anyone would see me from the house.

  Keeping my head down, I ran across the lawn, feeling the rain against my face.

  The garage was in darkness. The garage doors were controlled by a photoelectric cell. As soon as anyone got within a few yards of them and broke the beam, the lights went up and the doors opened.

  I took up a position near the doors, in a patch of shadow. The coverway from the house was dimly lit, and after I had waited a minute or so, I caught sight of Vestal's white raincoat in the distance.

  My heart was slamming against my ribs, and my mouth was as dry as sand. I clutched the sandbag and waited.

  She came quickly along the coverway. She was within fifteen yards of me now. She was humming under her breath, but as she passed close to me I could see her expression was worried and thoughtful.

  She walked through the beam, the garage lights clicked on and the doors slid back.

  I moved forward, holding my breath. My crepe-soled shoes made no sound on the tarmac.

  She was opening the car door as I reached her. Instinct probably warned her. She stopped humming, and her head began to turn slowly.

  Sudden terror gripped her. I saw her stiffen as I swung the sandbag. I hit her very hard on the top of her head. The smart black velvet hat gave her no protection. She dropped on to her knees, her hands sliding down the glittering panel of the car door.

  My breath came whistling out between my clenched teeth. I set myself and slammed the sandbag down on her head again, hitting her with all my strength.

  Her head jerked up and down. I dropped the sandbag and grabbed hold of her before she could spread out on the tarmac.

  She was like a limp rag doll in my hands. I held her against me and opened the car door. Then I lifted her and shoved her on the bench seat, pushing her past the steering wheel to the far side, propping her up against the offside door.

  I snatched up the sandbag, slid under the steering wheel, then remembered I hadn't the ignition key.

  I was sweating and my hands were shaking.

  She must have the key in her bag. I looked for her bag, but couldn't find it. I tried to remember if she had had a bag with her when she came to say goodbye. I was in too much of a panic to think clearly.

  Time was getting on. The hands of the dashboard clock showed seven minutes past nine.

  Cursing, I got out of the car and looked around the garage floor. I found her bag under the car. I grabbed it, got back into the car, rummaged amongst the junk she carried and found the key.

  I looked quickly at her as I started the engine.

  She lay limply against the car door, her head back, her eyes dosed, her mouth half open. She was breathing in slow, strangled gasps. From under the black hat came a pencil line of blood.

  I drove the car on to the tarmac, then increasing speed, sent it fast towards the long, rain-swept drive.

  It took me around three minutes to reach the head of the diff road.

  Away from the shelter of the trees the wind was much more violent than I had expected, and rain lashed against the windshield and the side windows.

  It was difficult to see. I kept the wipers going, turned out the car lights and pulled up on the first bend of the road.

  I had timed it close.

  About a mile down the twisting road I saw the approaching lights of a car.

  Blakestone was on his way up!

  I grabbed hold of Vestal and pulled her on to my lap. She sprawled forward, but I pulled her upright and clamped her Limp hands to the steering wheel. Her head fell back and her cheek rested against mine. I squirmed further down on the seat, engaged gear and started the car, flipping on the headlights as I reminded the bend.

  Blakestone's car was coming fast and I increased my speed. It wasn't easy driving with Vestal half obscuring my view, and I kept as close to the nearside of the road as I could. I would have t: move over to the right when Blakestone passed me. It would be pretty funny, I thought, if I miscalculated and sent the car over the cliff before I had time to get out.

  Blakestone must have seen my headlights for he dimmed his. As I was reaching for the dipper switch, Vestal suddenly began to move.

  I was so startled I nearly drove the c
ar off the road.

  She let out a long, sighing groan that scared me as I've never been scared before.

  I felt the car wheels bump up on the grass verge. I saw the white palings of the fence that guarded the nine-hundred foot drop racing past the car within touching distance.

  I swung the car back on to the road, then grabbing Vestal by the back of her neck, I slammed her face down on to the top of the ledge of the dashboard.

  The steering wheel, hitting her chest, broke some of the force, but her forehead came into contact with the ledge with sufficient force to knock her unconscious again.

  I just managed to sit her upright when Blakestone's car passed.

  He had slackened speed, but as I saw the car loom up, I trod down hard on the accelerator and swept past at a good forty miles an hour.

  He tapped his horn button in greeting. I had too much on my hands to reply. I had to brake violently as I came upon the next bend in the road. At the speed I was going I could easily have failed to make the bend.

  Out of sight, around the bend, I pulled up, shoved Vestal once more against the offside door, got out of the car and ran up the road until I reached the bend.

  I stood in the rain and wind and watched Blakestone's tail light disappear towards the house.

  It would take him under five minutes to reach the house. I couldn't keep him waiting much longer than twenty minutes. I had twenty-five minutes to change the wheel, send the car over the cliff, locate Eve's car, drive back to the house, get in through the window, strip off my overall, and appear to Blakestone as if I had been spending the evening at my desk.

  I suddenly quailed at the prospect. I had been crazy to have attempted such a plan. I couldn't possibly do what I had to do in the time. If I were late, would Eve's nerve fail? Blakestone must become suspicious as soon as he learned of Vestal's death.

  Sweating, the rain pouring down on me, I returned to the car.

  I opened the boot and dragged out the spare wheel. My fingers groped around the rim, hunting for the jagged hole in the outer cover. It crossed my mind that Joe might have discovered the blowout, and had changed the tyre, and I cursed myself for not thinking of this possibility before.

  My fingers found the hole, and I caught my breath with a gasp of relief.

  I got the wheel-key and a screwdriver from the toolbox and started in to change the wheel.

  It was a hell of a job.

  I didn't dare show a light, and I had to work more or less by touch. If it hadn't been for the wind and the rain the job would have been simple, but the wheel became slippery, I got mud on my hands, each nut seemed to be resisting my efforts to loosen it, and my increasing panic made me clumsy.

  I got the wheel off at last, trundled it around to the back of the car and shoved it into the boot.

  I paused to peer at my wristwatch. It had taken me seven minutes to get the wheel off; quicker than I had imagined, and that gave me heart to tackle the next job.

  Getting the other wheel on was more difficult. I couldn't find the holes in the wheel to correspond with the bolts on the wheel axle. I fumbled and cursed and wrestled, wasting precious time. When finally the wheel did slip on, I found in my struggle I had kicked over the wheel cap in which I had put the wheel nuts. I found five of them, but the sixth had vanished. I didn't dare waste any more time looking for it. I tightened the five nuts, clipped on the wheel cap and again looked at my watch.

  I had only ten minutes left to get rid of the car and to get back to the house.

  I opened the car door and got in, my hand reached out for the starter button. Then I stiffened; my body turned to ice. The offside seat was empty. Vestal had vanished!

  chapter fifteen

  The wind roared up from the valley and slammed against the side of the car while the rain came now in reluctant squalls, dying out, then starting again as the wind drove the clouds before it.

  I sat staring at the empty offside seat, my heart thudding. Where was Vestal? She must have recovered consciousness while I had been changing the wheel.

  I got out of the car and looked frantically up and down the road.

  It was too dark to see more than five yards ahead of me, and cursing, I rushed back to the car and snapped on the headlights.

  The powerful beams of light picked her out against the black, wet side of the cliff.

  She was walking slowly away from the car, heading towards the valley, moving unsteadily, her hands held out before her, like a blind woman groping in an unfamiliar room.

  She was about a hundred yards from the car, and for a long moment, I sat rigid, watching her through the rain-swept windshield.

  My teeth were chattering, and I felt sick enough to throw up. I had to go after her. Time was running out.

  I began to race down the hill. The beams of the headlamps sent a long, black shadow of myself ahead of me.

  Vestal saw the moving shadow and she stopped, turned and faced me.

  I approached her, my breath whistling through my clenched teeth.

  "Chad! Oh, Chad! I'm so glad you've come," she moaned and staggered towards me. "There's been an accident. My head hurts."

  She came into my arms before I could shove her off, and she leaned against me, twining her arms around my neck.

  "I don't know what happened. I was hit on the head."

  I got hold of her and tore her arms from my neck.

  "You're hurting me," she cried. "Chad! What's the matter? What's happened?"

  I remembered with horror something that had happened to me when I was a child. My father's dog went crazy one hot summer day and bit me in the arm. My father shot it. He was fond of the dog. He didn't want to shoot it. His aim was rotten. He shot the dog through the stomach, breaking its back.

  I was watching from my bedroom window. I saw the dog drop, its back legs paralysed. It jerked about as if it were at the end of a spring. It was horrible to watch. My father tried to shoot it through the head. He fired three times before he hit the dog, and even then he didn't kill it immediately. It took five ghastly minutes before it stopped its jerking and twitching. The memory of it death haunted my dreams for years.

  It seemed to me now that I was being forced to reenact that distant scene again. Only this time it wasn't my father trying to kill a dog; it was me trying to kill a woman.

  My brain tried to force my hands to grab her throat, but I knew she mustn't be found strangled. She must be found battered to death from a nine-hundred foot drop into space.

  "Chad! What's the matter? Why don't you speak to me?"

  "Okay, okay," I said, but the words made no sound. Only my lips moved as I stared down at her, feverishly wondering how to kill her.

  I had turned slightly, and I stood in the full light of the car's lamps, and she looked at me. She must have seen from the expression on my face that I was about to murder her for she gave s sudden wild scream, turned and began to run frantically towards the car.

  For several moments I was unable to move. I stood watching her, my heart scarcely beating, my breath coming in great sobbing gasps.

  Then I moved after her. I couldn't run. My legs felt boneless. I went after her with slow, deliberate strides.

  She looked back over her shoulder and saw me coming. I heard her thin wail of terror. She tried to increase her pace. She kicked against a stone, her ankle twisted and she fell on hands and knees.

  She remained kneeling in the middle of the road in the full glare of the headlights, looking towards me, her blood-smeared face livid and ugly with terror.

  As I approached her I saw a big stone lying on the grass verge. I moved to it, not slowing my pace, and as I passed it, I picked it up.

  She knelt motionless, watching me. Her mouth hung open, her black hat soggy in the rain, her stockings were in ribbons.

  I walked slowly up to her.

  "Chad! Please! Don't touch me!" she cried, looking at me imploringly. "I do love you, Chad. I'll give you everything I have. Don't hurt me!"

  I caug
ht hold of her right wrist. I was shaking from head to foot. The great sharp flint stone felt like a dead weight in my hand.

  "Chad!"

  I can still hear that cry ringing in my ears as I sit here in this hot beach hut.

  It was the most horrible sound I have ever heard.

  As I raised the stone, she shut her eyes. She made no attempt to protect her head with her free hand. She just knelt motionless like a paralysed rabbit waiting for death.

  I smashed the stone down on top of her head.

  I felt the shock of the blow up my arm. I stepped back, shuddering.

  She lay in the road the way the dog had lain at my father's feet, twitching and jerking, and I knew she was dying.

  I couldn't pick up that twitching, dying rag doll. I couldn't bring myself to hold her close to me so I caught hold of her wrist and dragged her like a sack over the ground to the car.

  I opened the car door and bundled her in, and as I touched her body I could feel her muscles fluttering under my hands.

  I slammed the door shut and stood for a long moment fighting down my sickness.

  It was done: finished, and now my life was in danger.

  I remembered the stone. I ran back, picked it up and flung it far into the darkness of the valley, then I returned to the car, leaned inside and started the engine. I shoved the car until it began to move downhill, turning the steering wheel so the car headed towards the white fencing that guarded the nine-hundred foot drop.

  The car was moving fast now. I stood in the rain and watched it.

  Its great headlamps lit up the white fencing. It thudded up the grass verge and its glittering radiator smashed against the fencing.

  There was a loud crackling sound of breaking wood. The car hung for a moment, then went over the cliff.

  I stood listening to the crashing of falling rocks and the louder crashing as the car turned over and over as it fell through space.

  I ran to the gaping hole in the fence and peered down.

  The car had fallen about two hundred feet and was now resting against a great boulder. As I stared down at it, a little tongue of flame suddenly flickered from under the hood; a moment later the car was a roaring furnace.

  As I slid my leg over the windowsill, I heard my voice saying: "Further to our telephone conversation and your letter of today's date, I confirm the arrangements we have made and look forward to hear more of your plans to develop the discussed property at Eden End."