Murder Somewhere in This City

by Maurice Procter

  “You’re crazy. I’ll lock the bedroom door.”

  “And I’ll bust it open. You can’t keep me out of my own bed.”

  “I won’t let you come near me.”

  “You won’t be able to stop me.”

  For the first time since she had known Harry Martineau, Julia was afraid of him. Would he do such a thing to her? Her knowledge of his domestic character—the man when he was at home—informed her that he would not be so brutal.

  But there was another aspect of him which, recently, she had allowed herself to forget. He was a very determined man. She remembered some of the startling, audacious and ruthless deeds which had earned him his reputation and his promotion. Oh, dear!

  He was strong-willed. Even this business of lingering in pubs was not weakness. He liked strong liquor, but normally he drank only a moderate amount of beer. He stayed out in spite of her upbraidings because he wanted to stay out. No amount of pressure from her had ever succeeded in bringing him home before he was ready to come.

  He was a man who did what he wanted. And he had always wanted a child or children. That was a very real desire, she knew quite well. And now he was in this mood! Julia was afraid.

  “You can’t,” she said. “It’s wrong. It’s like rape. You could be arrested. I could have you arrested.”

  “You couldn’t,” he said. “A man cannot be convicted for raping his own wife unless they’re judicially separated.”

  “I shall scream,” she said desperately.

  “Scream all you like. The neighbors won’t interfere.”

  She stared down at him. For once in her life she had nothing to say. It seemed to her that he was absolutely determined. He had always wanted children.

  “Supper first,” he said. “I won’t be long. I’ll soon be right there with you.”

  “You wouldn’t be such a beast,” she said. For the first time there was a pleading note in her voice. But she continued to look at him, thoughtfully, now.

  “Ah, but I would!” he said. “It’s time I had a kid of my own.”

  He turned away and got his supper from the kitchen. He took it into the living room and closed the door. She had gone upstairs.

  As he ate, his temper cooled. He realized that he had done an unpardonable thing. He was still indignant when he thought of his piano… but really, he shouldn’t have talked like that to Julia. Threatening her. After all, she was his wife. A man didn’t threaten his own wife.

  He supposed she would leave him now. There and then, that very night. It would be like Julia to make up her mind and do it straight away. He guessed that she would be packing a bag, quickly and neatly as usual.

  Well, maybe he shouldn’t have talked to her like that, but he wasn’t going to crawl and ask her to stay. She could go. It wouldn’t be much of a life for her, he thought, living with her mother and her stepfather. He felt rather sorry for her. She was losing a good husband: himself, Harry Martineau. Well, a fairly good husband. He had his faults, he supposed. Julia had plenty of faults, too. Everybody had faults. If only they’d had a youngster or two, maybe there wouldn’t have been so many quarrels. They would have had to learn to tolerate each other’s shortcomings. Quarreling parents were bad for kids.

  She seemed to be taking a long time to pack one bag. He had eaten his supper. She would only take one bag, he figured. She would come back for the rest of her stuff when he was out. She could take her damned television set too.

  He got up and made some tea, and lit a cigarette. After this, he reflected, there would be a separation, and ultimately a divorce. He would have to pay maintenance, and later, alimony. The Chief wouldn’t like it: there would be no more promotion. Well, a chief inspector’s pay wasn’t so bad. The pension was all right too. Eventually he might meet some young woman who would want to marry him and have a baby or two: a proper home, a proper going on.

  He threw away his cigarette. Julia would be ringing for a taxi anytime now, he thought. Good-byeee. I get along without you very well. Don’t smoke in bed.

  He waited, but there was no sound made by movements overhead. Julia had gone to bed. She would leave in the morning, probably. There was nothing for him to do but go upstairs and get into his own bed.

  He turned off the fight and went upstairs. There was a light in the bedroom, and the door was open. Julia was in bed; in his bed. She opened her eyes as he entered the room, and said drowsily: “You’ve been a long time.”

  “I made some tea,” he said, covering his surprise.

  He was nonplused. Had she believed that he would really carry out his threat? And, instead of resisting, was she going to use the wiles of her sex? “Come to bed, husband, but—no babies.” If that was the idea, it wasn’t going to work. He would have no more of it.

  He brushed his teeth in the bathroom, then he undressed and put on his pajamas. He got into bed beside Julia. Lying flat on his back, he pushed his feet right to the bottom of the bed. Julia put an arm across his chest, and squirmed her lovely elegant body closer to him. He discovered with a thrill of amazement and irrepressible excitement that she was quite naked. Never before in all their married life had she got into bed naked.

  “We’ll talk a bit,” she said. “Till you get warm.”

  “Sure,” he grunted, relaxing. He was asking himself: “What’s the move? Does she think I’ll drop off to sleep?”

  He had never felt less like sleep. The confiding, amorous wriggle of her body was something new. In spite of his suspicions, excitement mounted in him.

  “I’ve been thinking. I think you’re right. A baby is the answer. It will make you feel more responsible: bring you home oftener and sooner, I hope. I like the idea, now,” she murmured in his ear. “I think I shall like it, starting a baby. We won’t have to—to care about anything, will we?” Her hand strayed, and she shuddered slightly. But it was a shudder with a great deal of pleasure in it.

  He made some sort of reply. He could scarcely believe that this was happening.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she repeated. “I’ll have to pull you round somehow. Things had gone too far. We needed a fresh start. I didn’t know how to do it. I thought selling your piano would bring you to your senses and make you realize… But it didn’t work in quite the way I expected.”

  His astonishment was complete. She had never for one moment thought that there might be a parting! In all their quarrels she had never once thought of leaving him, or of him leaving her!

  “It came to me suddenly, after you got so wild and threatened me,” she said. “You wanted a baby so much, and I think I’m beginning to understand why.”

  She moved against him, and gently bit the lobe of his ear. “I hope it’s a girl,” she whispered. “Then I can make lovely dresses for her.”

  “Any daughter of yours will be the smartest girl in town,” he said, and he meant it.

  That pleased her. “Will you have to love me hard to get a girl?”

  “Just as hard as ever I can,” he replied.

  “I hope so,” she said.

  “By God,” he thought. “We’ll make a go of it, after all. I guess I’ll have to mend my ways a bit.”

  He remembered that he hadn’t thought of Don Starling for a long time. That was over. Justice had been done. A life for a life…