Seven Steps East

by Ben Benson

  “That’s very interesting,” I said. “If Kirk threatened your life why didn’t you call the police?”

  “Because I didn’t want to jeopardize his career. I knew he’d be instantly dismissed from the Academy. Wouldn’t that have happened, Ralph?”

  “Yes.”

  “When Wendell and Arthur Nassim came,” she said, “they were furious that their scheme was exposed. They wanted to drown Kirk in the ocean. Against my pleadings they dragged him out onto the porch facing the beach. But some people were having a fire in the dunes nearby and Wendell thought they’d be seen. So they dragged the body inside the bungalow again. When they went outside once more to see if the beach was clear, I tried to untie Kirk and free him. It was then that I saw his heart had stopped beating. He was dead and I had been too late to save him. And it was also too late for me. No matter what explanation I would try to make I knew I would still be involved. So when Wendell decided it was best to take Kirk and bury him somewhere I had to agree. I’ll admit I did suggest the old logging road in Cornwall. But you can see I had no choice.”

  “Why the gag in Kirk’s mouth?” I asked. “Starrett said when he came to the bungalow Kirk was not only bound but gagged.”

  “There was no gag in Kirk’s mouth.”

  “And he wasn’t smothered?”

  “No. I swear he wasn’t. His heart just stopped beating.”

  “Your story is well told,” I said. “With the proper amount of restraint, sincerity and elocution. But Kirk was gagged. The state pathologist performing the autopsy found lint in the larynx and trachea. Fine lint that could have come from a lady’s handkerchief. The inside of the mouth was bruised. As for the cause of death, it was asphyxiation. He was smothered with a pillow. We found the pillow in the bungalow. It was stained with saliva and mucus. The blood vessels in his eyelids had burst from the pressure of the smothering. You murdered him, Iva. You can’t ever lick that.”

  She sat silently for a moment, thinking. Then she said, “You got most of the story from Connie Ossipee, didn’t you?”

  “Some of it.”

  “The mistake was mine,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I should have killed her as soon as Wendell told her.”

  “I’m sure you would have,” I said. “But Wendell was difficult about it. As weak as he was, he would have been uncomfortable living with his own sister’s murderess. It takes a little more stomach than he has. So the best you could do was to swear Connie to secrecy.”

  “Secrecy?” Iva asked contemptuously. “What secrecy? She swore on the Bible. Then as soon as she got out of the room she broke her word. She went out, telephoned you at the barracks and told you where the body was. You recognized her voice, didn’t you?”

  “No. The voice was too muffled. I couldn’t identify it. But she did tell me where to find the body. Don’t you know why Connie really phoned me?”

  “She’s a stupid, senseless fool and a blabbermouth.”

  “No. She would protect her brother, only she wanted Kirk Chanslor to have a Christian burial. That was all. Such a reason would never occur to you. Not to you, who were playing the great lover again to me, trying to get information. Not to you, who kept hinting it was Larry Pierce to get us off the scent. Taking a kid like Larry who had always worshiped you and trying to make him look like the killer.”

  “So now you’re here to tell me everything is all over.”

  “Yes. I told you so when I came in.”

  “I don’t believe it,” she said. “Just why did you come and tell me all this? Why isn’t the lieutenant here, or somebody else important? Who are you? I know enough about the State Police that they wouldn’t let an unimportant trooper like you come here and make an arrest for murder. You’re a nobody.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “I’m a nobody. Lieutenant Gahagan and a policewoman are waiting outside in a car. I asked them for a few minutes alone with you. They let me have it.”

  “No, the real reason,” she said rapidly, her eyes darting. “My Lord, I’ve been ranting so much I didn’t stop to think. I should have known why. How silly of me.” Her pink tongue came out and wet her full lips. “I once threw you over and you’ve always wanted me back.” She began to speak more rapidly. “Honey, we can do it. We can get away. We can go out the back door, cross the field to Maitland’s car lot, pick up a car—”

  “Wait,” I said. “Dammit—”

  “Of course, you’re scared,” she cut in quickly. “It’s a big chance, but we can do it. We can. You and I, Ralph, darling. Look me over. Look. You know you want me. I’ll be your slave. I’ll do anything you want—”

  “Dammit,” I said, “listen to me. I came for one reason. Because of Kirk. He was like one of the family. I asked the lieutenant if I could make the pinch because it was a thing I felt I had to do. I had a personal responsibility toward that kid. I had to come in and take you. Myself. That’s all. That’s all you mean to me.”

  She let her breath out slowly, then shook her head wearily. “You’re right. That’s all.”

  She leaned forward on the pillow. “Are we ready to go?” she asked, her hand moving toward her handbag.

  I came out of my chair quickly and grabbed the bag away from her. I took from it the little .25 caliber Astra.

  “What would you have done with it?” I asked, standing over her. “Kill yourself with it? Or were you going to use it on me?”

  “It was for you,” she said. “You.” She showed her even, white teeth. “I hope you die. I hope you die soon—a filthy, rotten death. I hope some hoodlum shoots you in the belly and you rot and fester, and it takes you a week to die, and all the time you’re praying for death to come.”

  I didn’t answer. I reached down, took her by the arm and started walking her to the front door.

  Chapter 25

  Sometimes on graduation day it rained. Sometimes the weather was so bad that we had to hold the exercises indoors at the Commonwealth Armory in Boston. But this graduation day broke clear, bright and sunny. The sky was a deep blue and the wind was from the north, bringing a scent of ripening fruit to the air.

  On the green turf of the parade ground, the poles stood tall and erect and the blue pennants on them whipped in the wind. The flag-decorated reviewing stand was filled. The National Guard band struck up the march and the people who were closely packed around the field became quiet.

  From behind the gray classroom building at the far side of the field came the graduating class of forty-three men. Their rifles were at a perfect angle. For the first time they were wearing their tailored light-blue blouses, the dark-blue whipcord breeches with the broad stripe down the side, the highly polished black field boots and the white gloves.

  They passed in review before the stand. They were then inspected by the Governor, the commissioner, the executive officer and the adjutant. Later they went through their close-order rifle drill, the intricate motorcycle drill, the judo and ambulance exhibitions. After the badges were pinned on, the Governor passed out the diplomas. The special awards were made; then Lieutenant Colonel Carradine, the executive officer, read the training troop their assignments. The national anthem was played and the troop marched back to their quarters.

  The crowd flowed onto the field and began to visit the various exhibits. I went to the reviewing stand to meet my mother and Mrs. Chanslor. I started to escort them toward the dining hall.

  Mrs. Chanslor said, “He’d have made a fine trooper, Ralph.”

  “We’d have been proud of him,” I said. “This is the way he would have graduated.”

  “I’m glad I came,” Mrs. Chanslor said. “I know he was very young and very anxious. But he’d have turned out all right. He was always a mindful boy.”

  “He’d have been the best,” I said. Then I saw a familiar blonde head in the crowd and I excused myself. I had seen Connie Ossipee.

  When I came up to her she didn’t recognize me at first. She had never seen me in uniform before.

  She said in her d
issonant voice, “I hope I haven’t embarrassed you by coming.”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “I guess I don’t really belong here. But I wanted to see what it was like.”

  “I’m happy you’re here,” I said.

  “Thanks. I’ve been thinking if I’d found out sooner about Kirk, possibly when he was being held prisoner in the bungalow that evening, he might be alive today. He might have marched off the field with the rest of them, with the silver badge on his uniform.”

  “He might,” I said. “But it’s no good to look back.”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “What are your plans now?”

  “I’m going back to Florida. I don’t know if I’ll be back next year. Not to the Cape anyway.”

  “You’ll probably meet a nice boy and marry again. You’re still just a kid.”

  “I don’t know. Not with my luck. I got one proposal in my life and that was from Airman Ossipee. All he wanted was the cheapest way of taking care of his needs. I never had anyone decent ask me again. Once a drunken cook proposed to me. Another time a busboy who was three years younger than I. Half-witted stuff. Then you look at Iva. She got some good ones and she turned them down for a shiny-looking fake like my brother. What a fool she was. She couldn’t tell the real article.”

  “Connie,” I said. “I hope to see you again.”

  “Maybe we will,” she said. “It’s a small world. Good-bye, Ralph.”

  “Good-bye,” I said. I saluted her with a white-gloved hand. She turned and walked away. I watched her heading through the crowd to the parking lot and to her little gray foreign car.

  I turned back and started for the dining hall. As I passed the blue pennant of the training troop, which flapped in the wind in front of the Administration Building, I slowed my step and looked at it.

  Then I went into the dining hall where my mother and Mrs. Chanslor were waiting for me.

  The M. S. Mill Co. and William Morrow & Co., 1959