Killing Cousins

by Flora, Fletcher

  “True. I’m thinking about it. In spite of the temptation to do something unusual and elaborate, I think we had better make use of one of the tried and proven methods. Bodies, Cousin, are normally disposed of by cremation or burial. Since we do not have facilities for cremating old Howard, we must bury him. Nothing is needed for that except a spade and a small plot of ground.”

  “What plot of ground exactly? We can hardly bury him in the back yard.”

  “Leave it to me, Cousin. It so happens that I have an uncle on my mother’s side who lives on a little farm southwest of town. I used to go swimming in the creek there when I was a kid. I still go out to see the old boy once in a while, as a matter of fact. He’s a bachelor and a kind of bum and tells the most fabulous lies that you are expected to accept as gospel. There’s a back way onto the farm, a little road around a cornfield and through a pasture to the creek. We can find a spot in there that will do nicely for Howard. I wouldn’t mind being buried there myself, to tell the truth, if I had the misfortune to be dead.”

  “Won’t it be risky? Suppose we’re caught.”

  “After we get there, the risk will be negligible, and fortunately for us, this phony neighborhood you live in is made to order for such a venture. What with the big yards all cluttered up with trees and brush and stuff like that, we should be able to get Howard out of here without anyone but us the wiser. We simply load him in your station wagon in the garage and haul him off. It will have to be done late tonight, I think. Old Howard won’t stay sweet much longer.”

  “Do you honestly think anyone will believe that Howard walked away and disappeared without a word to anyone?”

  “As to that, it’s our part to make it impossible to believe anything else. Old Howard was a nut in his own way, you know. I’ve heard him say myself that he intended to run away someday to the South Seas and live naked with the natives. He used to say it publicly every time he got loaded. One thing we must do is get rid of his new Buick. Is it in the garage?”

  “Yes, it’s there with the station wagon.”

  “Good. Tonight, after burying Howard, I’ll get rid of it. Then everyone will think he simply drove off in it.”

  “Are you sure you’re not trying to be a little too clever, Quincy? I’ve read that being too clever is the thing that generally trips one up in the end.”

  “Well, I’m like Tom Sawyer in that respect. If you’re going to have an adventure, you may as well dress it up and make it worth while. Are you beginning to question my talent, Cousin?”

  “I would only like to know how you propose to get rid of a Buick automobile. It was difficult enough to think of a way of disposing of Howard. After all, Quincy, an automobile is too big to bury.”

  “In the disposal of the Buick, my mother’s side of the family will come in handy again. I have a cousin in KC who has made a career of stealing automobiles. At the beginning of his career, he served three years at Jefferson City for it, but since then he has perfected his methods and has had no more serious problems. He has an established market for stolen automobiles, and I’m certain he’d do me the favor of stealing Howard’s. All I need to do is slip it away from here in the dark and drive to KC and let this cousin know where he can pick it up. Naturally we’d have to allow him all the profit, but the service would be worth it. The Buick would be repainted and fixed up with phony papers and wind up getting sold in California or someplace like that.”

  Willie stared at Quincy with overt admiration and gratitude. It was simply incredible, she thought, how such an ugly, burr-headed runt could be so diversified and talented. He was better at love than a Boccaccio monk, as she well knew, and here he was as cool and clever in a crisis as anyone could possibly be.

  “I swear to God, Quincy,” she said, “you’re truly remarkable, and I don’t mind saying so. You’re literally full of good ideas, and you know helpful people of all kinds that no one would ever suspect you of knowing.”

  “Most of them are relatives on my mother’s side,” Quincy said. “All in all, the Hogans are a dull tribe.”

  She was slightly annoyed by his complacency, and the feeling of annoyance must have pricked her to a higher kind of criticism, for something immediately occurred to her that seemed such an egregious oversight on his part that it made her uneasy about everything else he had suggested.

  “Quincy,” she said, “it’s all very well to make clever plans about disposing of Howard and the bags and the Buick, but who is going to believe that he would go off without making any financial arrangements whatever?”

  She was quite proud of having thought of this, for it seemed to her a very important consideration, but Quincy was clearly not in the least impressed. His attitude of complacency became, if anything, somewhat more pronounced, and she could see that he had not overlooked the matter of finances at all, but obviously was holding something in reserve with respect to them.

  “Cousin,” he said, “this raises a point that may shake you up. My position at the bank has put me in possession of a bit of intelligence of which you are apparently ignorant. The fact is that old Howard, only yesterday, wiped out your joint savings account in the amount of $10,587.27, and cashed, at the same time, somewhat more than $9,000 worth of government bonds, face value, at least half of them matured.”

  “What?” she said. “What’s that?”

  “It’s true. I didn’t handle the transaction myself, but I made it my business to learn the facts.”

  “Why in the world would he do such a thing? Do you suppose he’s been gambling or something?”

  “Howard? Fat chance. In my opinion, Cousin, old Howard was planning to do exactly what we are planning to make him appear to have done. Our little indiscretion last night may have caused him to advance his time of departure a few hours or days, but it was not really the precipitating factor at all. Old Howard was getting out in any event.”

  “Well, what a damn dirty trick. I’ve never before heard of anything so deceitful in my life. Whoever would have thought Howard capable of such a deception?”

  “You’d better be thankful that he was. As it is, our case is supported nicely, and you could hardly have picked a better time to do old Howard in if you had planned it deliberately.”

  “It’s easy enough for you to be philosophical, Quincy. You can afford it, I suppose, since you haven’t been deprived of almost $20,000.”

  “Fortunately for you, old Howard was the kind of fathead who puts everything in the sort of husband-and-wife joint ownership that makes it possible for either to tap the till without the concurrence of the other. The twenty grand is legally as much yours as his. All you need to do is keep it.”

  “I’d be happy to keep it if only I knew where to find it.”

  “Well, that’s a problem we should now apply ourselves to. First, I’ll just have a look in old Howard’s wallet. He certainly couldn’t have all the money there, of course, but any part of it is at least a beginning.”

  He went over and deftly explored pockets with light fingers. From the inside pocket of Howard’s jacket he extracted the wallet, and from the wallet several crisp bills.

  “Eight hundred,” he said, after counting. “I judge that the rest is in the smaller of the packed bags on the floor.”

  “So far as I can see,” Willie said, “it might just as well be in the larger one.”

  “No. Old Howard would have wanted to keep that much cash pretty close to hand. The smaller bag would be easier to lug about, and that’s where he probably put it.”

  He opened the bag, and there, sure enough, it was. It was in a heavy Manila envelope, 9 × 12, and Quincy handed the envelope to Willie, together with the eight hundred, and closed the bag again.

  “All this money!” Willie said. “It’s simply incredible that Howard intended playing me such a dirty trick.”

  “Well, it hardly matters,” Quincy said, “since it turned out in the end to be a favor. Incidentally, now that you have the money, it will be necessary for me to have about
three hundred for expenses.”

  “Expenses? Whatever for? I hope you aren’t going to start blackmailing me, Quincy.”

  “Don’t be absurd, Cousin. What’s the need for blackmail between two reasonable people who enjoy such amiable relations as you and I? I have to make a little trip, that’s all, and I’ll need to fly in order to save time. Since I’m doing it for your sake, you surely don’t expect me to pay my own way.”

  “I simply don’t see the necessity for making a trip. Where are you going?”

  “Dallas, Texas, I think, would be as good a place as any. Old Howard is going to send you a letter from there, Cousin, and under the circumstances, as you can see from examining Howard, I’ll have to go down there and mail it for him.”

  “It seems like a long way to go just to mail a letter.”

  “A husband on the run, Cousin, could hardly write from the next town. I can leave KC tomorrow after arranging matters with my maternal cousin about the Buick, and with luck I should be back and safely in my cage at the bank by Monday morning. If I’m delayed and a little late, you can rely on me to make an acceptable excuse.”

  Willie looked at him dubiously with a recurrence of the uneasy feeling. It seemed to her that he was enjoying himself a little too much, and he seemed determined to elaborate everything as much as possible. She did not object to his getting pleasure from his efforts, for he had surely earned it, but she didn’t want him to come a cropper over his own cleverness. She would have felt a little easier in her mind, in fact, if he had not exuded such perfect self-confidence.

  “You are welcome to the money,” she said, “if you really think it essential to go.”

  “Thanks, Cousin.” He took the money, three hundred dollars, and shoved it into a pocket as he walked to the door. “I’ll be back tonight. Ten o’clock or thereabout. Be certain that there are no obstructions in the way of what must be done. In the meanwhile, I hardly think it’s necessary to emphasize the importance of not letting anyone get a glimpse of old Howard there.”

  “I’m not quite an idiot, Quincy,” she said indignantly. “I can see the importance of that as clearly as you.”

  SIX

  After he was gone, the day stretched out forever. It would simply be impossible, she thought, to do nothing but sit around the house and wait for night to come and Quincy to come back, and so she began to think of things to do, and the first thing to do, she decided, was to dress. She locked the bathroom door from inside Howard’s room, and then she left through the door into the hall, carefully not looking at Howard while she was leaving, and locked the hall door with a key from the outside. It would now be impossible for anyone to wander into the room, which would have been possible before, if unlikely, and she carried the key to her own room and put it into her little jewel box on the dressing table. She then removed the thin blue gown and went into the bathroom and had a shower, hot and cold, and she had the queerest feeling, which was rather frightening, that the sound of the shower would surely waken Howard, and that he would be, if she were to open the door and look into his room, standing and yawning and scratching in the rather revolting way he always did after waking.

  Because of this feeling she did not stay in the shower as long as she would have otherwise. In her bedroom, after drying on a huge woolly towel, she dressed in a white jersey pull-over blouse, a kind of T-shirt, and a pair of bright red Capri pants to match her toenails. She was trying her best to be cheerful and to look on the bright side of things, but in spite of her best efforts she kept feeling more and more depressed, and even the considerable amount of money she had acquired, or salvaged, thanks to Quincy, was not enough to leaven her depression appreciably. She took the money out of the envelope and counted it, but it was no use, it did not help much at the moment, and so she put it back into the envelope and the envelope into a drawer of her dressing table.

  She began thinking about what to do next, and she remembered all at once the little gun with which she’d shot Howard. She had carried it into the room with her last night, and there it was on the table by the bed, and it would be wise to clean it and put it away, or perhaps even wiser to dispose of it entirely. The more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that the latter would indeed be the wiser. The safest thing to do, she thought, would be to bury the gun with Howard that night, although there really didn’t seem to be any reason why the gun should ever become an issue if it was never known that Howard had been shot. Nevertheless, it was just as well to be as careful as possible and to anticipate contingencies. It would not be necessary, in any event, to do anything about the gun until it was time to do something about Howard, and this was certainly a relief, for it was something she didn’t relish doing.

  The truth was, the presence of Howard was becoming oppressive. Being so close, just beyond the bathroom, he persisted in being thought of, and she was constantly aware of him lying in there on the floor with his muscular proteins coagulating. Or were they, by this time, uncoagulating? Well, either way, coagulating or uncoagulating, Howard’s muscular proteins were not pleasant to think about, and she wished that it were possible to remove Howard from the house immediately, instead of tonight, but it wasn’t, of course, for obvious reasons. The next best thing would be to remove herself, which was possible, and she began to think about going somewhere, and where, specifically, she could go.

  While considering this, she went downstairs into the kitchen and got some ice out of the refrigerator and carried it in a little pink plastic bucket into the living room. She put some of the ice into a mixing glass, which she took from a liquor cabinet, and added four parts of gin to one part of vermouth. She stirred this briefly with a glass rod, and it came out a big Martini, which she began to drink slowly a small sip at a time. The Martini was refreshing, an important quality of Martinis in general, and she was feeling much better when the telephone began to ring. Carrying the Martini, she went out into the hall and answered the telephone, and it was Mother Hogan again.

  “Willie,” Mother Hogan said, “has Howard returned yet?”

  “No,” Willie said, “he hasn’t.”

  “Have you made any effort to find out where he went?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “I must say that you seem strangely indifferent.”

  “Well, he took three bags with him, and so I assume that he went quite a long way to stay quite a long while.”

  “What I want to know, Willie, is what you did to drive poor Howard away.”

  “I didn’t do anything to him. He simply packed and left after saying the nastiest kind of things that were all untrue.”

  “What things exactly?”

  “Never mind. I don’t care to repeat them.”

  “Howard has been very fair all his life, even as a small boy, and it’s my opinion that he must have had a good reason for saying anything he said.”

  “You may think as you please about it, but I have this splitting headache, and I prefer not to discuss it with you.”

  “Don’t think you can avoid your responsibilities, Willie. Honestly, you have not turned out a bit better than I thought you would. It seems to me that you have been treated exceedingly well for a girl with little to offer in return, and the least you could do is show a little appreciation and the proper concern for Howard. It would serve you right if he didn’t come back at all.”

  “As to that,” Willi said, “I’m not at all sure that he will, and I’m not sure, either, that I give a damn if he doesn’t.”

  Mother Hogan whinnied and hung up with a bang, and Willie hung up afterward and drank what was left of her Martini and went back into the living room to see if there was any left in the mixing glass. There was some left, all right, and she poured it and drank it. She was feeling better because of the Martini, and better still because of having told off Mother Hogan, who had it coming to her, the fat bitch, and she began to wonder if she should mix some more gin and vermouth in the mixing glass, or if she should, instead, call someone, a frie
nd, and arrange for lunch downtown. If she went downtown, however, she would have to change clothes, which would be a bother, and besides, she couldn’t think of any friend she particularly wanted to meet. Another thing, she would have to open the garage door to back the station wagon out, and it was possible that someone might come by at that moment and see the Buick in the garage, where it was parked, and that would spoil Quincy’s plan to get rid of the Buick quietly and pretend that Howard had driven away in it. She felt quite proud of herself for having thought of that, the possible consequences of opening the garage door, even for a minute or two, and it showed, she thought, that she was self-possessed and almost as clever as Quincy himself.

  It was a bright, sunny day outside, as she could see through the living-room windows, but it didn’t look very hot, and it was apparent from the way the leaves of the trees were moving that there was a breeze from the southwest. She thought that it might be pleasant to sit on the back terrace for a while, especially if she had another Martini or two to drink while sitting, and so she mixed some more gin and vermouth and went out the back way to the terrace, carrying the mixing glass in one hand and her cocktail glass in the other. She sat in a striped canvas chair under a striped umbrella, and she had sat there long enough to drink one whole Martini slowly when she thought she saw a flash of movement and color through the leaves of the high hedge that separated the Hogan yard from the yard of the house next door, which was the house owned and occupied by Marvin and Gwendolyn Festerwauld. Willie stood up and walked over to the hedge, about fifty feet, and peeked through.

  It was Gwen over there on the other side. She was lying on her stomach in the sun on a yellow pad, nearly naked in nothing but a couple of scraps of white. Gwen thought she had a superior and exciting figure, and she went nearly naked at every opportunity, but Willie didn’t think Gwen’s figure was really exceptional at all, and as a matter of fact it was rather ridiculously exaggerated in places. It had to be admitted that men seemed to find Gwen’s figure exciting, and Willie had heard comments to that effect from various sources, but then, of course, men were inclined to find almost anything exciting if it was nearly naked. Anyhow, regardless of her figure, Gwen was someone to talk to at the moment, and someone to talk to was what Willie was beginning to want and need. Besides, it would be an opportunity to develop the deception that Howard had gone away last night, after coming home from the Club, and it was important to have that idea spread and accepted as widely as possible in view of the fact that Howard was certainly gone and certainly wasn’t coming back and would have to be satisfactorily explained. Again feeling proud because she was thinking so clearly and was contributing her share to the successful execution of Quincy’s plan, Willie walked down along the hedge and around it and up into the Festerwauld’s yard where Gwen was lying. “Hello, Gwen,” she said.