1951 - In a Vain Shadow Read online

  ‘He’s certainly made a fool of himself all right.’

  She watched me with an odd look in her eyes.

  ‘I shouldn’t have thought you would find it funny.’

  ‘Well, isn’t it? He’s going to get the shock of his life when nothing happens.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll ever admit he was wrong?’

  I grinned at her.

  ‘What else can he do about it?’

  ‘Make certain he isn’t wrong.’

  That wiped the grin of my face.

  ‘It takes two to make a job of that.’

  ‘Does it? I’m not so sure. I’ve had my own way for three years. I have a feeling it’s his turn now.’

  ‘Now, look here...’

  ‘I mean it, Frank. You don’t know what he’s like, and now he’s told everyone, he’ll get his way - unless we can find a way out.’

  ‘There is one. Pack up and come away with me - now. How do you like that for an idea?’

  Her eyes widened.

  ‘And what do we do for money?’

  I felt as if I’d suddenly walked into a wall. I hadn’t thought about money; all I was thinking about was owning her.

  ‘I can get a job. Don’t worry your head about money. I’ll get all the money you’ll want.’

  ‘Will you?’ The emerald eyes glittered. ‘Well, go ahead and get it, then come and tell me. I’ve had one dose of living on air. I’m not having another.’

  ‘You don’t call this living, do you? Stuck here in this lonely hole? You’re no better off than a skivvy. I could do better for you than this tomorrow.’

  ‘Then go ahead and do it. But don’t expect me to leave here until I’m sure you’re not fooling yourself - or me.’

  I started to say something, but she put her hand on my mouth.

  ‘It’s no good, Frank. Let’s begin again, and this time don’t let’s bluff. You know as well as I do you wouldn’t be doing a job like this if you could get anything better. What does he pay you - ten pounds? How do you think we could live as I want to live on ten pounds a week? We couldn’t.’

  ‘Well, all right, let’s begin again. It’s your turn to make a suggestion. What do we do?’

  She flopped down on the settee, and her silk wrap fell open to the knees.

  As I moved towards her, she said quietly, ‘What do we do, Frank? We kill him. There isn’t any other way.’

  ‘Let’s get this straight. You’ve got to cut that kind of talk right out with me. I’m not as soft in the head as all that. They hang you for murder. I’m not all that tired of life.’

  ‘They won’t know. They won’t even suspect us.’

  I went over to the sideboard, hoisted up a bottle of Scotch, poured out two big slugs and carried them to the settee.

  ‘They always know.’

  She took the whisky.

  ‘Not the way I’ve planned it.’

  ‘So you’ve already planned it? All right, tell me, and I’ll tell you where it goes wrong.’

  ‘It won’t go wrong.’

  ‘Go ahead and tell me.’

  ‘If you think it’s a good idea, will you help me, Frank?’

  ‘It won’t be a good idea, but tell me, and I’ll show you why it isn’t a good idea, and you’ll thank me because I’ll have saved your lovely neck for you.’

  The green eyes suddenly glittered, and the soft, full mouth tightened.

  ‘You think I’m a fool, don’t you?’

  ‘Nothing like it, but a safe murder has got to be good, and I don’t think any woman can make it as good as it has to be, nor do I think any woman can stand up to the grilling from the police when they start in on her. You or any other woman.’

  ‘That sounds as if you think you could do better.’

  ‘Never mind what it sounds like. Tell me your idea. Let’s have a look at it.’

  For a moment or so she hesitated.

  ‘You know that milkman leaves the milk on the gate.’

  ‘All right, hold it! Don’t tell me anymore. You’ve said enough. The milk on the gate: so that’s it. Now I know exactly what your idea is, and it won’t do. It won’t even start to do.’

  ‘How do you know?’ She was leaning forward, staring at me, her face suddenly white and set.

  ‘Because it sticks out a mile. Listen, I’ll tell you. To start off with, it doesn’t look bad. I admit that; it doesn’t look bad at all. The milk is left on the gate every morning where anyone could tamper with it. All they have to do is to squirt poison through the cardboard cap with a hypodermic. That’s the way you would do it because you have a hypodermic. I’ve seen it in the bathroom. Now, another thing I’ve noticed: you never have milk with your morning coffee, but he does. So it would be safe for you to poison his milk, and look wide-eyed with horror when the police arrive. You could also assure them you never have milk with your coffee, and they might believe it. But your only witness who’d support your story would be dead, and that is the beginning of your troubles.’

  ‘You’re just picking holes in the idea. I don’t see what’s wrong with it.’

  ‘There’s everything wrong with it. Now I know why you’ve been sending him threatening letters. You think that’ll give you an alibi. You think those notes will make the police think someone wants him out of the way, and after writing a number of notes, poisons him. Do you really think they’d believe it?’

  She drank the whisky in two quick gulps, as if she needed it. Her hand was shaking.

  ‘Why shouldn’t they believe it?’

  ‘Because they’ve been trained never to believe anything that’s put before them. They may seem to believe it, but you can bet your sweet life they won’t do more than consider it as a possibility. First, they’ll start digging, and make no mistake about it, those boys dig deep. They’ll examine the letters. They’ll find they’ve been written on blue, deckle-edged notepaper, and that’ll start them thinking. Can you imagine any of Sarek’s competitors using such paper? The moment I saw the colour and the pretty edges I knew a woman had written those notes, and they’d know it too. Then they’d hunt for the typewriter, and unless you’ve thought of a better hiding place than behind your wardrobe they’d find it, and that out-of-alignment e and d would clinch it. But if they didn’t find the typewriter they would still know it was a woman because seventy-five murderers out of every hundred who use poison are women. And one more thing, poison can be traced. Where did you get yours?’

  ‘I’ve had it for years.’ She was sullen now. ‘I couldn’t be traced.’

  ‘That’s what you think. There are dozens of murderers rotting in unknown graves who’ve said exactly that little thing. Once they had the idea it was you, they’d work on you. And don’t think it would be fun, because it wouldn’t. You’d be wondering all the tune if they knew more than they said. You would be wondering if they had traced the blue notepaper or the typewriter or the poison. You’d begin to lose your nerve, and they’d keep after you. Maybe you wouldn’t give yourself away, but if I was around, you wouldn’t need to give yourself away. They would only have to take one look at me and one look at you and the motive’s there, staring them straight in the face. Then they’d really go to town on you and on me too: and how long do you think we’d stick it? A day, two days - a week? I wonder. Maybe we wouldn’t stick it a day...’

  I stopped talking to stare at her.

  ‘Now, wait a minute, just why do you want to murder him? Come on, spill it. Why do you want him dead?’

  ‘You’ve taken a long time to get around to that, haven’t you?’

  ‘That’s right - I have. I’ve been thinking all the time you wanted him out of the way so you and I could hook up, but I’ve been kidding myself, haven’t I? It isn’t that at all, is it? It can’t be.’

  Her soft, full lips came of her teeth in a smile that meant nothing.

  ‘You had already started to murder him in your mind long before you ever saw me. You had written four of those notes before I appeared on the s
cene.’ I was bending over her, my voice loud, my face congested. ‘What’s the idea? What haven’t you told me?’

  She put her hand on my arm.

  ‘You are an added incentive now, Frank, but not the incentive.’

  ‘All right; all right: let’s have it. Why do you want to get rid of him?’

  ‘I want the money.’

  I stepped away from her, stiffening.

  ‘What money?’

  ‘His money, of course. He’s an undischarged bankrupt. He has to live like this or they’ll make him pay his debts,. He can’t spend his money so he’s hidden it until he can.’

  So I had been right all along. I knew there had to be money after I had seen fat Emmie and her diamond; the shabby little office and the table creaking with good food.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Are you interested, Frank?’

  I grabbed her, jerked her to her feet and shook her.

  ‘How much?’

  ‘About a hundred and fifty thousand; probably a little more.’ And then I remembered what I had said to Netta.

  ‘I’ve got such an itch for that kind of money I’d stop at nothing. Do you hear? Nothing! I’d take even murder in my stride…’

  A hundred and fifty thousand!

  I felt a chill run up my spine.

  chapter ten

  She was lying flat on her back, along the length of the settee, staring up at the ceiling. The thin sunlight coming through the mist lit up the tints in her copper-coloured hair and deepened the shadows under her eyes. Just to look at her made concentration a feat of endurance and will power.

  ‘What are you thinking about?’ She adjusted the wrap to hide her legs. I came over from the window and stood at the foot of the settee, facing her. We stared at each other.

  ‘One thing at a time. How do you know he’s got this money?’

  ‘I’ve seen it. About twenty-five thousand in five-pound notes and the rest in small diamonds.’

  Just to think of it made me breathless ‘Diamonds, eh?’

  ‘They could be sold, couldn’t they, Frank?’

  ‘They could be sold. They pay well for diamonds in America. Would you like to go to America?’

  ‘I’d love it.’

  I sat beside her.

  ‘A hundred and fifty thousand: that’s a lot of money. Are you sure it’s as much as that?’

  ‘It’s probably more now.’

  ‘How in the world did he get so much money?’

  ‘Do you think he works for nothing? Everything he touches turns to money. When he first came here he started up as merchant. He got credit, made thousands with other people’s money and then went bankrupt. That gave him the start ‘he wanted. Then he moved into the car racket, bought and sold cars during the shortage and cleaned up more thousands. He’s working the currency racket now. Why do you think he’s always going to Paris? He’s a genius at making money.’

  ‘Where does he keep the stuff?’

  ‘Where I can get it when he’s dead.’

  That was my cue to look at her. She looked right back at me.

  ‘That doesn’t tell me where he keeps it, does it.’

  ‘No one is going to know that. I’ll tell you fast enough when he’s dead, but not before.’

  I smiled at her, but the edges of the smile were a little faded. ‘That doesn’t sound as if you trusted me.’

  ‘Is anyone to be trusted with that much money?’

  ‘We are not talking about anyone: we’re talking about me.’

  Again we stared at each other.

  ‘I’ll tell you when he’s dead.’

  ‘So that means I have to trust you.’

  ‘Will that be so hard?’

  I got up and poured myself another drink. There was a tight feeling in my chest: a feeling of excitement.

  ‘What’s to stop us taking the money now and hooking it?’

  ‘Don’t you think I should have done that months ago if it was possible?’

  ‘I should have thought so. He couldn’t do anything about it. If that money comes from the black market, he wouldn’t dare complain to the police. What’s stopping you? If you know where it is, all we have to do is lift it and blow. We can do it right now.’

  ‘It isn’t possible.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘You can take it from me, it isn’t. Do you think I’d be such a reckless fool as to think of killing him if I could get the money any other way?’

  ‘Don’t keep saying it isn’t possible. Tell me why. Don’t make such a damned mystery out of it.’

  She reached for a cigarette, lit it and tossed the match into the fireplace.

  ‘I happen to know him. The whole of his mean little life is tied up in that money. If I disappeared with it he would tell the police You don’t think he would, but I know he would. He would rather go to prison than let me get away with it. And I’m not going to be hunted by the police. When I get that money I intend to enjoy it.’

  I studied her. Her green eyes were as expressionless as a stonewall.

  ‘If you and I are going to get along together, you may as well get this straight. I’m smart. I was given a brain and I use it. I’m not boasting. I’m stating a fact. I was born smart. You’re lying. You know damn well he wouldn’t slick the police on you. He isn’t that much of a fool. To be caught with all those diamonds would put him behind bars for years. Of course he wouldn’t tell the police, and you know it as well as I do.’

  ‘Don’t be too smart, Frank.’

  ‘I can’t help myself. On the face of it all you have to do is take the money and disappear. It wouldn’t be difficult and it would appear to be a lot safer than murdering him. But you can’t do it that way. Now, why? I’ll tell you. You can’t do it because he’s got something on you: something you don’t want anyone - including me - and particularly the police to know. You know if you took his money he would get even by talking, and you’d be in the cart: not for stealing his money, but for something you’ve done already. That’s a little more like it, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it? If you’re so smart, why ask me?’

  ‘Don’t get angry about it. We’re going to work together and you’ve got to get this into your smart little head: I’m going to help you, and it you want my help you’ve got to trust me.’

  She didn’t say anything.

  ‘I’ll tell you something else. When I was hunting for that typewriter I came across a box of letters in your wardrobe drawer. They told me quite a lot about you. You had hundreds of offers of marriage from men who must have been a damn sight easier to live with than a little vulture like Sarek. You could have had the pick of any of them, but you had to choose him. That puzzled me. Why did a girl with your looks and shape throw herself away on a little honor like Sarek? I know now. He had something on you, and you didn’t dare refuse him. That’s why you’re still with him now. That’s why you know, sooner or later, you’ll have to give him a child. That’s why you know if you steal his hoard he’ll give you away, and that’s why you want to murder him: to stop his mouth once and for all!’

  She sat up, her wrap falling open, her fists clenched, her face as white as a fresh fall of snow.

  ‘Something like that, Frank. Now what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘There are two things I can do. I can walk out of this house and leave you to poison him. If I do that, they’ll hang you as sure as God made little apples. And I wouldn’t like them to do that to you, Rita. You’re too lovely to hang. If I don’t do that; if I stay, then we’ll have to trust each other. I don’t want to know what he’s got on you. But I do want to know where he’s hidden his hoard. And when you’ve told me that, I’ll have to think of a way to kill him. How much will you pay me to make a safe job of it: a guaranteed job?’

  She lay still for some seconds while her eyes searched my face. ‘How much do you want?’

  ‘All of it and you too to spend it with.’

  ‘You’re sure about me?’

&nb
sp; ‘I’m sure all right.’

  ‘It’s in the barn, Frank. I don’t know where exactly. It’s buried somewhere. We would have to hunt for it.’

  ‘How do you know it’s there?’

  ‘When we first came here, he shut himself in there with a spade. It must be there.’

  ‘How about my terms?’

  ‘It would be safe, Frank?’

  ‘It’s got to be safe. If I can’t think of a safe plan I’m not going to touch it. My neck is worth more to me than a hundred and fifty thousand. It’ll be safe all right if I do it.’

  ‘Have it all then, Frank, and me too; only make it safe.’

  Later, when she had dressed, we went out to the barn.

  ‘Somewhere here, you think?’

  ‘I’m sure of it.’

  I looked around. The place was full of the kind of things you put in barns. There was a heap of hay, a number of bales of straw, a great pile of wood logs, a pile of coal, a couple of chicken houses, a motor mower and rolls of wire netting. There wasn’t a great deal of free floor space.

  ‘When did that coal and wood come: before he shut himself in here or after?’

  ‘After.’

  ‘Then it could be under either of those stacks.’

  ‘Yes.’

  I dug my heel into the earth floor. It was as hard as concrete.

  ‘He only had a spade?’

  She wasn’t missing one move I made.

  ‘Well, he might have had a pick-axe. I forget.’

  He would have to have a pickaxe to dig a hole in that ground, but I didn’t say so. There wasn’t a pickaxe in the tool shed, but I didn’t remind her of that either.

  I was certain she was lying. The money wasn’t in the barn.

  I hadn’t thought it was likely when she told me, but now I was sure of it. He wouldn’t bury it where it could get covered by a couple of tons of coal or wood He hadn’t the stamina to shift loads like that, and besides, if he wanted it in a hurry he had to be sure he could get it in a hurry.

  All this had blown up a little too rapidly for me. I needed time to think about it, and until I had time to think about it I would let her kid herself I was believing her lies. I even pulled over some of the logs, pretending to examine the ground.