I'll Bury My Dead Read online

  Then they swung aboard.

  Above deck the yacht was deserted, but a light showed through two of the cabin portholes.

  “I’ll go first,” English said under his breath. “You keep out of sight. If there’s trouble, take them in the rear.”

  He moved softly to the companion hatch and paused to listen at the head of the companion stairway. Hearing nothing, he cautiously began to descend, and as he reached the bottom step, a cabin door toward the end of the passage abruptly opened.

  He crouched down, waiting, knowing he couldn’t get along the passage before he was seen, nor had he time to get up the stairway and out of sight. If whoever it was coming out of the cabin had a gun, he would be shot down before he could make a move.

  Then he saw Lois.

  She came out of the cabin, her face white, her eyes scared. Her white nylon blouse was ripped off her shoulder, and one stocking was down to her ankle.

  “Lois!” English said softly.

  “Oh, Nick!” she said, and ran toward him.

  III

  Halfway down the staircase, Kerr stopped and gaped. He was expecting to run into a rough house, and the sight of English holding a girl in his arms stopped him short, as if he had run into a brick wall.

  But English was oblivious to Kerr’s astonishment. He held Lois close to him, thankful to find her alive.

  “Are you all right?” he asked anxiously. “You’re not hurt?”

  “I’m all right. I—I thought it was Sherman coming back. Oh, I’m so glad to see you,” Lois said, pushing away from him, embarrassed. “I’m sorry to have run into your arms like that, only I was scared.”

  “My dear girl…” English began, then realized this was no time for idle talk. “Is there anyone else on board?”

  Lois shivered.

  “There’s Penn. He’s in there.” She pointed to another cabin. “I’ve been scared to go in there again. I hit him.”

  “You hit him?” English said blankly. “What happened?”

  “He attacked me. I got away from him, and hit him over the head with a bottle. I—I think I may have killed him.”

  He could see she was struggling not to cry, and he put his arm around her.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “I’m going to get you out of here.” He looked over his shoulder at Kerr. “Take a look in there and see what’s happened.”

  Kerr pushed past them, opened the cabin door and went in. He came out after a minute or so, grinning.

  “Well, you certainly did hit him, miss,” he said admiringly, “but he’s all right. He’ll probably have a cracked skull, but he’s not going to croak.”

  Lois leaned against English.

  “I was so frightened he would die,” she said, “but he was such a brute.”

  “Come on,” English said “You’re going home.”

  “No, wait,” she said, catching hold of his arm. “This is important, Nick. There’s something in the next cabin we must take with us.”

  “All right. Just a moment.” English turned to Kerr. “Think you can get that thug into the boat? I want him.”

  “Sure,” Kerr said. “Leave him to me.”

  English followed Lois into the cabin next to the one in which she had been kept prisoner.

  “I found this, Nick,” she said, pointing to a square leather suitcase. “It’s a tape recorder. The tape contains all kinds of conversations between Sherman and Penn, and something that clears you. Sherman talked to me. Penn must have set the machine going. Listen to this.”

  She opened the case and flicked down the switch. The two reels containing the metal tape began to revolve.

  “Murder is an odd thing,” Sherman’s voice said clearly out of the machine. “It’s like a snowball rolling down a hill. One murder leads to another. I wouldn’t be in this jam if that cheap little chiseller hadn’t tried to gyp me. I was a fool to have picked him to work for me. Before he came I had a good business. Now, if I’m not very careful, the bottom could drop out of it. It’s worth a quarter of a million a year to me, and I’m not giving that up without a fight. I killed Roy English in a moment of anger. It would have been simpler to have kicked him out…”

  They stood side by side, listening to the flat, metallic voice, and when it said, “I arranged he should hear about his mistress and Harry Vince. I couldn’t be sure he would kill them, so I did it for him…” English put his arm round Lois and hugged her.

  “That’s it! That lets me out!” he said. “Now we’ve got him where we want him!”

  “Let’s go now, Nick,” Lois said, switching off the machine. “I can’t wait until we’ve given this to the police.”

  English was looking past her, a sudden puzzled expression in his eyes.

  “I don’t remember shutting the door, do you, Lois?” he said, and walked over to the door and turned the handle. He pulled, shook the door, and then stepped back. “That’s odd. It’s locked.”

  “Oh, Nick!” Lois said, her eyes frightened. “You don’t think he’s here?”

  “Of course not,” English said, and rattled the door handle. “Hey, Kerr! Open the door. We’re locked in!”

  “Nick! Put your hand on the wall. It feels as if the engines have started up.”

  English put his hand on the wall. He could feel a faint vibration, and he nodded.

  “You’re right. Maybe Kerr’s decided to take the yacht in.”

  “It isn’t Kerr—it’s Sherman,” Lois said. “I know it is.”

  English went swiftly to the porthole and looked out. He was in time to see the speedboat drifting away into the darkness. Even as he caught a glimpse of it, it vanished from sight, wallowing in the heavy swell.

  “He’s cut the boat adrift,” he said, turning to face her. “I think you’re right. Sherman is on board.”

  He went over to the door and rattled the handle again.

  The vibration was stronger now as if the engines were mounting to full speed, and when Lois looked through the porthole she could see the water foaming against the yacht’s side as it forged ahead.

  “He’s heading out to sea. What are we going to do, Nick?”

  English was examining the door.

  “The damn thing opens inward. There’s not much hope of smashing the lock, but we’ve got to get out of here, Lois.”

  “This table—couldn’t we use it as a battering ram?”

  “That’s an idea. Let’s try. You take that side, and I’ll take this.”

  Together they wrenched the table from its fastenings and carried it over to the door.

  “Now, together.”

  They slammed the table against the door, drew back and slammed it again against the door. One of the door panels split.

  “Once again,” English said. “I think it’s going to work.”

  They drew back and then ran at the door. The corner of the table smashed through the panel, making a gaping hole.

  “Fine,” English said. “I think I can tackle it now.”

  He kicked out the rest of the panel, leaned through the opening and found the key in the lock. He turned it and pushed open the door.

  “Now look, Lois, you stay here,” he said, “or better still go into the next cabin and lock yourself in. Take the recorder with you. Whatever happens we’re not going to lose that. I’m going to see what’s happening.”

  “No, don’t, Nick. Don’t leave me. If anything happened to you…”

  “I’ll be careful. Now get into the other cabin and wait for me.” He picked up the recorder and pushed her into the passage. “I’ll be all right.”

  Before she could argue further, he handed her the recorder, and then went along the passage to the companion stairway.

  Lois stood in the doorway of the cabin and watched him, her face white and her eyes scared.

  He went up the stairway slowly, his ears cocked for the slightest sound, but all he could hear was the noise of the engines and the heavy thud of the sea against the yacht as she drove through the wate
r.

  When he was almost at the top of the stairway, he stopped, not sure if he had heard something. He listened, then went on, and very cautiously looked along the dark deck. He saw nothing to alarm him. The deck was deserted, and he looked toward the bridge, but that, too, was deserted, and his mouth set in a hard line.

  He guessed Sherman must have lashed the wheel, and was hiding somewhere, waiting for him to show himself.

  Then he saw a movement in the shadows ahead of him, and he quickly ducked down so he was no longer outlined against the white hatchway.

  “Hello, English,” Sherman said from out of the shadows. “I can see you, and I’m covering you with a gun.”

  English looked in the direction of the voice. He decided Sherman was too far away for a quick rush. He moved down a step so Sherman couldn’t pick him off, and waited.

  “I thought you would walk into my trap sooner or later,” Sherman went on. “She wouldn’t believe you’d come after her. I told her you would. I said you had the mentality of a cheap movie hero.”

  “Where do you imagine you’re going?” English asked. “Every coast-guard boat on the coast is on the lookout for you.”

  “That, of course, is a stupid lie,” Sherman returned. “In a few hours when Kerr recovers from the blow on the head I gave him, they might look for us, but by that time, it will be too late.”

  “Don’t be too sure,” English said. “You don’t imagine you can get away in this yacht, do you?”

  Sherman laughed.

  “No, but it’ll be at the bottom of the sea by the time they come after us,” he said and came out of the shadows. He held an automatic in his hand, and it covered the companion hatch. “That’s where we’re going, English. You and the girl and I—to the bottom of the sea.”

  “Is that necessary?” English asked. “Surely you don’t want to join us.”

  “I’m going to end it,” Sherman said. “I’m sick of killing people. I shouldn’t have killed Gloria. The janitor saw me leave. Of course I could have killed him, but I can’t go on and on killing people. I’m sick of it! There seems no end to it. Well, I’m going to end it, and end you, too.”

  “And how do you propose to end it?” English asked, seeking information. He knew it was hopeless to attempt to close with Sherman. The distance between them was too great. He would be shot down long before he could reach him.

  “I’ve set fire to the yacht,” Sherman said. “There should be a pretty good blaze before long. You’ll have the opportunity of either burning or drowning. We’re about twelve miles off shore now, and we’re still going. Personally, I prefer to drown.”

  English had heard all he wanted to know now. He slid down the stairs and landed heavily in the passage.

  Lois had come along the passage, and had heard what had been said. She looked at English, her face pale, but her eyes unafraid.

  “He’s cracked,” English said. “He says he’s set fire to the yacht. Maybe he’s lying, but if he isn’t, we may have to swim for it. Can you swim, Lois?”

  She smiled.

  “Yes. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “But I do worry about you.” He put his hand on her arm and looked down at her. “This is the wrong time and place, my dear, but I’d better tell you now. I’m in love with you. I guess I’ve been in love with you for years. It was only when I thought I was going to lose you, I realized it. Sorry, Lois, but there it is. Better late than never, I suppose. Having got that off my chest, let’s get busy. There must be some lifebelts somewhere down here. Let’s find them.”

  She gave him a quick, searching look before going into the cabin. A few minutes’ search brought to light three lifebelts and a couple of oilskins.

  “We’ll wrap the recorder in the oilskins, and then put a lifebelt around it,” English said. “I’m not losing it unless I have to.”

  “There is a fire, Nick,” Lois said suddenly as she spread the oilskin out on the floor. “I can smell smoke.”

  English stepped into the passage. Smoke was drifting up through the floorboards, and when he touched the floor it felt hot. He returned to the cabin to help Lois tie the lifebelt around the recorder.

  “We can’t get off the boat without going up on deck,” he said, helping her on with a lifebelt, “and he’s guarding the head of the stairs. You wait here. I’ll see what he’s doing.”

  “Be careful, Nick.”

  He put his fingers under her chin and kissed her.

  “You bet, but we’ve got to get out of here.”

  A sudden gust of smoke whirled into the cabin, making them cough, and when he went into the narrow passage, he found it full of smoke and the heat intense.

  “Come on, Lois, we can’t stay here.”

  She joined him, and they ran along the passage to the stairway.

  English hadn’t yet put on his lifebelt. He didn’t want Sherman to know they had lifebelts, and he put his belt on the stairs before he looked along the deck.

  A red glow came from the bridge, and the heat was now so violent English had to shield his face as he peered through the smoke.

  He couldn’t see anything, but he could hear the roar of the flames as they burned furiously, eating into the deck and slowly demolishing the bridge house.

  Cautiously he went up the stairs and onto the deck. Still he could see no sign of Sherman.

  “Lois!” he called softly.

  She joined him and he motioned her to keep down.

  “I can’t see him. Let’s get out of here. Give me the recorder.”

  “Your lifebelt,” she said, thrusting the belt into his hands.

  As he made to take it, he saw Sherman coming through the smoke. He dropped the belt, grabbed Lois by the arm and rushed her across the deck.

  “In you go,” he said, and lifting her, dropped her into the sea.

  He ran back for the recorder and as he snatched it up, Sherman saw him.

  “Don’t move!” he shouted.

  English dodged to the right, reached the rail and tossed the recorder into the sea. As he put his hand on the rail to vault over, Sherman shot him.

  English felt something hit him viciously in his side, sending a scorching pain through his body. He fell face down on the hot deck.

  The deck was so hot, his soaking clothes sizzled, and as he tried to push himself to his feet, his hands began to blister. He rolled over, frantically trying to get under the rail and into the sea.

  Sherman ran over to him, caught hold of one of his ankles and dragged him back.

  “You’re not going to get away!” he cried wildly. “You’ll roast here with me. How do you like it, English? How do you like your first taste of hell?”

  English kicked out. The heel of his shoe crashed against Sherman’s knee cap, bringing him down. Sherman’s gun went off, and a slug ploughed a furrow in the deck near English’s head.

  English rolled on Sherman, pinning him flat on the deck. Snarling with pain and fury, Sherman tried to get his gun hand up, but English caught his wrist in both hands and pressed Sherman’s hand down on the metal guard that ran the length of the yacht.

  Sherman screamed as the almost red-hot metal burned into his flesh. Exerting all his great strength, English kept Sherman’s hand down against the metal.

  Sherman slammed his free fist into English’s face, but English held on until Sherman’s fingers opened in agony and the gun dropped into the sea.

  He let go of Sherman’s wrist, tried to get to his feet, but the pain in his side was now so intense he blacked out for a moment.

  He came out of the faint, the hot deck scorching his back. Sherman was kneeling on him, his fingers digging into his throat. English caught hold of Sherman’s thumbs and wrenched them back, breaking Sherman’s hold. As Sherman groped for his throat again, English smashed his fist into Sherman’s face, sending him sprawling on his back.

  English grabbed hold of the rail and dragged himself to his feet. Before Sherman could reach him, English overbalanced and fe
ll head first into the sea.

  The shock of the cold water revived him, and when he broke surface, he shook the water out of his eyes and turned on his back.

  The yacht was blazing now like a torch, lighting up the sea. English kicked out to send himself away from the yacht and the intense heat.

  “Nick!”

  A hand closed over his shoulder. He turned his head. Lois was beside him, her other hand holding on to the recorder.

  “Oh, darling, are you hurt?”

  “It’s all right,” English gasped. “It’s nothing much. What happened to him?”

  “I think he’s still on the yacht.”

  English reached out and put his arm over the recorder. With its help he kept his head above water. His legs hung like leaden weights, and if it hadn’t been for the buoyancy of the recorder he would have sunk.

  “Keep near me, Lois,” he said. “I’m bleeding a little, and I don’t feel too good.”

  “Get on your back,” she urged. “I can hold you. Keep a grip on that case.”

  As he turned on his back he saw Sherman, swimming strongly toward them. Sherman’s eyes were gleaming, and his teeth showed in a vicious snarl.

  “Look out!” English panted and pushed Lois away from him.

  Sherman’s hand caught hold of English’s shoulder.

  “We’ll go down together!” he cried shrilly. “This is the end for you, English!”

  English struck out at him, but his strength was failing. He couldn’t hold Sherman off, and he felt Sherman’s fingers shift from his shoulder to his throat.

  They went down together, Sherman locking his legs round English’s body, his fingers digging into English’s throat.

  Lois saw them go down, and she dived after them, but the bouyancy of her lifebelt immediately returned her to the surface.

  Frantically she wrestled with the strings to get it off, but the knots had hardened in the water and she couldn’t loosen them.

  “Nick!” she screamed, and again tried to go down, but again the buoyancy of the belt brought her to the surface.

  Then suddenly there was a commotion under the water. She caught a glimpse of the two men, still locked together, as they came to the surface. She saw English’s hand grope for Sherman’s face, and his thumbs sink into Sherman’s eyes as they went down again, the water closing over them.