If I Die Before I Wake

by Sherwood King

  I gulped.

  ‘But don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I could leave your cap – hell, I could leave your picture there – and they still couldn’t do anything. Not so long as you can prove that you were killing me and dumping me off the pier, and can account for your time afterwards. Now do you see? Your part is simple and foolproof. You’re safe every minute of the time and you don’t have to slap anyone’s wrist, even, to get your five thousand.’

  ‘You mean you’re going to be killing someone – twenty miles away – while I’m supposed to be killing you?’

  ‘At about the same time, yes.’

  ‘How will you do that?’

  ‘That’s easy. Speedboat – East River. I’ve clocked it. I can get from the beach out here to where I want to go – the foot of Wall Street – in twenty-five to thirty minutes. The reason is, it’s shorter and faster by water than it is by land.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Now you know the real reason for my wanting to be dead, as far as the police are concerned. How can I be off killing someone else if I’m dead myself and at the bottom of the Sound? Of course, being dead also frees me from my wife, which I want, and lets me go down to the South Seas, which I want, and lets me get hold of a nice little sum, which I want.’

  I got my wind.

  I said: ‘Who – who’s the one you—’

  He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward until his face was close to mine. He gripped my arm – hard.

  ‘That doesn’t concern you,’ he said. ‘But I’ll tell you because I agree you should know all the angles, it’s best, and because it won’t do you a damn bit of good to talk. No one would believe you, in the first place.’ His grip on my arm tightened. ‘And in the second place, if you did, they’d still have nothing on me. You haven’t any proof. And in the third place, you wouldn’t, because if you didn’t go through with this now, you know damned well I’d fog you – and as easily as I will him!’

  He let that sink in a minute, and then he said quickly:

  ‘Bannister.’

  VII

  Twenty minutes later I was back in my room, shaking like I had the palsy.

  I was getting out of there. Fast. If I didn’t go now it would be too late. There wouldn’t be any backing down. He’d get me too, just as he’d said he would. I’d be a dead one. I knew it.

  I started furiously cramming everything I had into a duffle bag. I hadn’t much.

  It was about eleven o’clock. Hot and still. They wouldn’t be wanting the car any more until morning. By then I’d be far away.

  A breeze was up off the Sound. It came in through the window and rustled things.

  I looked out and saw the water. Far off the lights of a ship moved out to the open sea.

  Then I knew what I was going to do – sign back on a ship – go to sea!

  I was packed. There wasn’t a thing to hold me. I thought of going and telling Bannister the whole thing. He’d been swell to me. But I didn’t go. I didn’t want any part of it.

  I slung the duffle over my shoulder.

  A knock came at the door. My heart leaped.

  Grisby!

  But it couldn’t be – it couldn’t! I’d seen him take the train, just a little while before. Who, then? For a panicky moment I thought maybe it was the police already.

  ‘Who’s there?’ I called.

  ‘May I come in?’ A slurred voice – one I didn’t know.

  It was a young fellow I’d never seen before. He was stoop-shouldered, slack-jawed, with watery blue eyes and smoky gray hair that didn’t go with the rest of him. He was wearing pleated gray slacks and a blue polo shirt.

  ‘You Larry Planter?’ he asked.

  I nodded.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My name’s Broome,’ he said. ‘I’m the new gardener. They told me you’d fix me up. Mind if I sit down?’

  ‘Not at all. You found your room?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Mrs Bannister showed me.’

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and began to roll a cigarette.

  ‘She’s a honey,’ he said.

  He fired up and leaned back like he was going to spend the night.

  I sat down at my desk and lighted up too. I was plenty jittery still, but I didn’t know how to get rid of the guy.

  ‘Nice room you got here. Mine’s a little small.’ His room was down the hall, at the end. There were only the two rooms. ‘But I’m glad for the job, I sure am.’

  ‘Been a gardener long?’

  ‘Well, not a plain gardener, no. I studied landscaping architecture for years. But take my advice – don’t ever get in it. Business is rotten. You don’t look like a chauffeur.’

  ‘I’m not, but I’ve always monkeyed with cars. What does a chauffeur look like?’

  ‘I mean, you look too smart. No offense.’

  ‘Oh, no. I was just curious.’

  He looked at the books and the papers on the writing desk.

  ‘You write?’

  ‘Some.’

  ‘Boy, I could sure give you a lot of good material. I’ve run into some mighty funny situations, going around. Mostly out at these rich Long Island places. Take this one. You can see plain as the wart on my face’ – he had one, too – ‘that Bannister is poison to his wife. I’ll just bet she’d be willing to play, given half a chance.’

  I decided right there I didn’t like him. He was too stuck on himself. Why, she wouldn’t even look at him.

  ‘You’ve got her wrong,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe you just don’t know how to handle women. I’ve seen her around off and on for months. She used to drop in at the Innes place down the road. I was doing a job there she liked and she said to come over here when I got through. That was a break, but don’t tell me she’s only interested in my flowers. Ever try?’

  ‘She isn’t that sort,’ I said.

  ‘You just don’t know how to handle ’em.’ He blew out smoke. ‘Me, I know. They’re all alike. Of course, not if they’re already in love. You have to know if there’s someone else in the picture. I don’t mean the husband. He doesn’t count.’

  He wrinkled his nose and looked wise.

  ‘You drive her around,’ he said. ‘Maybe there’s someone in the city—?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ I said. ‘You’ve got her wrong.’

  He pursed his lips and made lines in his forehead.

  ‘Well, maybe,’ he said. He had a sudden inspiration. ‘Say, how’d you like a drink? I’ll go get it. Be right back.’

  He went out to the other room and came back with the bottle. It was cheap whiskey but just what I needed. We had a couple of quick ones and then he poured some in glasses and sat down.

  ‘How about this guy Grisby?’ he asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He comes out here a lot, doesn’t he? You don’t suppose he comes out just to see Bannister?’

  ‘Why not? They’re partners.’

  ‘Yeah, I know.’

  ‘You know a lot, it seems to me.’

  ‘Oh, I hear things. Remember, I’ve been working this territory for a couple of years now.’

  ‘What did you mean by that crack about Grisby?’

  ‘Not a thing. I mean I know the set-up. Bannister and his bum leg. A beautiful wife. His partner, Grisby— Hell, I don’t know. What do you mean?’

  I downed the drink. I began to feel a little high.

  ‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘But you’re wrong.’

  ‘Well, you can never tell, as the saying goes.’

  He threw his cigarette into the open fireplace and began to roll another.

  I got up and stretched.

  ‘Well, you’re all set for the night, if she showed you the room,’ I said. ‘Anything you want to know, just ask me tomorrow. I’m going to turn in. Had a hard day.’

  ‘Sure, sure.’ He stood up. ‘I d
on’t need a house to fall on me.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean—’

  ‘No offense. How about another drink before hitting the hay – just to show we’re friends?’

  We each had a stiff one.

  ‘Go ahead, kill it,’ he said.

  I emptied the bottle. The stuff had a wallop.

  ‘Well, see you in the morning,’ he said. He went out walking like he was a little tight.

  I knew damned well that I was. It was dumb to drink in hot weather – cheap whiskey, at that. I sat down and put my head in my hands. This was a fine stew I’d got myself in, all right, all right. I could hardly believe it was me. I went over and over the whole thing.

  Then I did it. I sat down at the desk and began to write. I spilled my guts, as Grisby said I would.

  I wrote:

  ‘O.K., Mr Bannister! You’ve been a good guy. Here’s where I pay you back. I ran into this thing without knowing what was coming, so don’t hold it against me. Here’s the dope – all of it…’

  And I gave it to him. All of it. Just as Grisby’d given it to me, white hot off the griddle.

  It was after twelve by the time I was through. I could hear Broome snoring in the other room. Good. I left the note on the writing desk where they’d be sure to see it in the morning and hauled the duffle out from under the bed.

  At the door I took one last look at the room, switched off the light, and went out without making a sound. It had been swell while it lasted.

  The phone rang.

  I stood on the steps with the bag in my hand and listened. If I hadn’t waited to write the note I’d have been out and away. I wouldn’t have heard the phone. Why answer it now?

  Broome hadn’t heard it, evidently. In between the rings I could still hear him snoring.

  The phone stopped ringing. It was suddenly so quiet I could hear crickets chirping far off.

  I went on down the steps. At the bottom, my hand on the knob, I stopped. There was a crunching of gravel just outside.

  Someone was coming!

  I stood still, the sweat pouring out of me.

  The sound stopped outside the door. The door opened.

  In the moonlight stood Elsa Bannister.

  VIII

  She was wearing a filmy thing that floated out and around her like a mist. In the moonlight it seemed that she was floating too.

  I came out and put the bag down on the drive, not looking at her any more than I could help.

  ‘Well, Laurence—’ she began.

  ‘Yes’m?’

  ‘The phone – didn’t you hear it?’

  I scrunched the gravel with my foot.

  ‘You’re not – you’re not thinking of going away?’ she asked, surprised.

  I nodded.

  ‘Well, Laurence—’ She didn’t know what to make of it. ‘But you can’t,’ she said. ‘We like you here. You don’t mean you have a better offer? Is that it? But I’m sure, if you spoke to Mr Bannister—’

  ‘It isn’t that,’ I said. ‘It’s just that I wasn’t cut out for a chauffeur.’

  ‘But you make a very good one, really. At least, we’re satisfied, and that’s the main thing, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not to me. I mean, the life’s too slow. Maybe you didn’t know it, but I was a sailor before I came here. I’m going back where I belong.’

  ‘I think I see what you mean,’ she said slowly. ‘But hadn’t you better think it over?’

  ‘I have thought it over,’ I said.

  ‘Oh…’ She came closer. ‘You’ve been drinking, haven’t you? Come, be sensible. I couldn’t sleep, it was so hot. I thought a drive might help. We’ll run down to the beach and in the morning everything will look different to you, I’m sure.’

  ‘Well—’

  I got the car out.

  I was feeling the liquor pretty much but I could drive fine. We went out along the Sound and watched the moonlight on the water. All the while music kept running through my head. It was all very beautiful.

  We had been riding about an hour when she tapped me on the shoulder.

  ‘You can go back now.’

  That was all she had said on the whole ride.

  I turned the car around. There was no one else on the road at this hour and it seemed there was no one else in the world. I’d forgotten Grisby. I’d forgotten everything except that we were alone together and that it was a wonderful feeling.

  When we came to the side road leading down to the beach, she said:

  ‘This is fine – just drive in here.’

  I ran the car to the edge of a hill that sloped down to the sand of the beach. A few fires were still burning but there was no one around. We might as well have been on a desert island.

  She got out and stretched her arms above her head, looking up at the stars.

  ‘It’s a glorious night,’ she said – to herself, not to me.

  I stood next to her. My nose burned from the scent of her hair. She was wearing sandals and seemed smaller than she had and more like a girl. I wasn’t afraid of her any more, anyway.

  ‘If you want that big red one now,’ I said, ‘I think I can get it for you.’

  She smiled, looking up at me with her lips parted and her teeth very white. The look had surprise in it. I guessed it was her turn now to see me for the first time – really see me, I mean.

  ‘You have a romantic mind, for a chauffeur,’ she said.

  ‘I told you, I’m not a chauffeur. I’m a sailor, I’ve been all around the world.’

  ‘You were in the Navy?’

  ‘No. I was on tramp steamers.’

  ‘Oh.’

  She went on down the bank. At the bottom was a little hollow made in the sand. There she stopped.

  ‘Bring the robe down, won’t you?’ she asked.

  I got it out of the car and came down and spread it out for her in the sand.

  ‘Sit down,’ she said.

  I dropped down beside her and watched the waves roll up the shore. She was too close for me to think of anything but her, but I didn’t want to look at her. I was afraid I might do something silly.

  We were very quiet. After a while she leaned back with her hands behind her head and began to recite a poem. It made me go hot and cold:

  ‘Deep on the couch of night a siren star,

  Steeping cold earth in swooning loveliness,

  Sings madness to the earthlings that we are…’

  I looked down at her lying with the stars in her eyes. A smile almost sad was coming and going at her lips.

  ‘That is how I feel about tonight,’ she said, and added, ‘You’re very quiet. Talk to me.’

  I thought, why not? This is the last night. If I was ever going to seize the moment, as Bannister said, it was now. Bannister was right, the moment might never come again. With the whiskey and all, it never occurred to me how funny it was, using his own stuff on his wife.

  I said: ‘I’ll tell you something that might interest you. I wouldn’t do it, except I’m leaving.’

  ‘What is that?’ she asked. She knew what was coming, all right. Her eyes opened wider, but she didn’t try to stop me.

  I took the plunge.

  ‘If you weren’t married—’ I began.

  ‘Oh!’

  ‘That makes a difference, I know, but—’

  ‘It makes a tremendous difference,’ she said.

  I was feeling the liquor pretty much, all right, or I never would have said it.

  I said: ‘But every woman should have a husband and a lover, shouldn’t she?’

  She didn’t seem too surprised.

  ‘But it’s impossible, you must see that.’

  I pretended to think that over. Then I gave it everything I had, all the things I remembered out of books.

  I said: ‘I don’t see why. A woman might dream o
ver a book, mightn’t she, when her husband is away? She could imagine, couldn’t she, that the lover in the book was her lover? Women do that in theaters. I will be your theater! I’ll bring you love, romance, glamour – everything you’d get in a theater! Say that you’re in a theater now, or that you’re reading a book—’

  The funny thing about it was that that’s just where I’d got it – out of a book.

  ‘Ah, but this isn’t a book,’ she said. ‘And it isn’t a theater.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said, ‘I know. And I’m only a chauffeur. At least, that’s what you think.’

  ‘No, I can’t say that I do, entirely – not any more. But you certainly aren’t a character in a book.’

  ‘Then say it’s a dream and forget the book. It’s all right for a woman to dream, isn’t it?’

  ‘It might be all right in a book, as you say, but not in real life.’

  We were talking like high school kids, but we both knew it, and we both knew that it was only a matter of minutes now.

  ‘Maybe it would be wrong in real life, yes,’ I said, ‘but this isn’t real. This is a dream. Tomorrow it will be like something that never happened. Don’t forget, I’ll be gone, then, too – that will make it even more like a dream.’

  ‘Yes, I know… but it isn’t right.’

  I went ahead full steam.

  ‘It’s not happening, either,’ I said. ‘It’s a dream. Didn’t I tell you?’

  I kissed her mouth. It was a nice little kiss, like you’d give a child. I was afraid I’d scare her, otherwise.

  When I stopped she kept her eyes closed. I looked at her lying in the moonlight. I put an arm under her and this time kissed her hard. A shiver ran through her; her lips parted. It lasted a long time and it felt just as it must feel drowning – drifting under water.

  Suddenly she put a hand on my chest and pushed me back. She sat up, looking around, her eyes blurred. I felt the same way, as though I’d been asleep.

  ‘You said a dream,’ she whispered.

  She looked flushed and excited, more like a girl. I smoothed the hair from her forehead and ran my fingers through it until it hung down her back. She threw back her head, leaning on both hands, and let her hair fall in ripples to the sand. She looked at the stars.