Lady—Here's Your Wreath
Page 19
I said, “Mardi, don’t worry—I’m still with you.”
She put her hands over her eyes and shuddered.
Curtis tossed the butt on the floor. “So you’re still with her— are you?” he sneered. “You still think you’re goin’ to live around with a chippie whose sideline’s murder, huh? You can forget it! You won’t want her around any more.”
I said, “Now you’re through—get out!”
He raised his eyebrows. “Who said I’m through? That’s a laugh. Listen, punk, I want dough. I’ve got enough on that judy to fry her. Okay, I ain’t working any more. I’m living on you. You’re going to give me plenty of dough, and when I’ve spent that I’ll come and ask for more. So you’re going to be busy earning it.”
I sat down quietly. I knew that this guy had got us. There wasn’t going to be any more happy days. There wasn’t going to be any more swims in the sea, or any more of anything. This guy would be with us until he died. My brain lurched a little. Until he died. I looked at him thoughtfully. One against two. One life making two lives unhappy. It didn’t add up. I felt slightly sick, but there was no other way out of it—I’d gotta kill this guy.
I said in a quiet voice, “How much do you want?”
“What can you afford?” He looked over at Mardi, then back at me. I knew he was playing with us.
“Fifty bucks a week,” I said, for something to say. I knew he’d got a figure, so I wanted to get to it quick.
He laughed. “I want fifteen grand now, and a hundred bucks a week until I get tired of asking for it.”
So that was that.
I got to my feet slowly. “You’re crazy,” I said. “We ain’t got fifteen grand.”
He shrugged. “You had twenty grand from me. You’ve got half of it salted away. You can sell the house and the furniture. She’s got some trinkets—you’ve got a few things around that’ll fetch something. You’ll make it up all right.”
“So you’re stripping us clean.”
He nodded. “Sure—ain’t she worth it to you?”
I wandered over to the window and looked out. “The Feds, are after you, too,” I said. “Suppose I turn you over to ’em?”
“Be your age. She’ll go with me—and it’s the hot squat for her.”
I was just wasting time. Somehow I’d got to get his gun and kill him. I was surprised how calmly I was setting about this. Once I had made up my mind that he’d have to go, I felt no more misgivings than if I’d planned to tread on an ant. I’d just got to make the opportunity.
“Well, if it’s like that,” I said, “I’ll have to go ahead. I can’t give you the dough now.”
He said, “Write me a cheque for ten grand. That’ll do to go on with—I’ll be round for the rest of the dough in a month.”
I began to look dejected, but I was acting all the time. I slouched from the window, and headed for the writing-desk. He still sat on the table, watching me. I stopped at the other end of the table and rested my hands on the table-top.
“Listen, Curtis,” I said, “give us a break—won’t you? Take the ten grand an’ call it quits.”
He laughed. Just for a second his eyes were off me and I acted. I grabbed the table and heaved. It was easy. He was sitting on the far end and it flew up with a crash. I flung my weight on the table so that it toppled over on top of him, pinning him flat. His gun shot out of his hand.
Kneeling on the table, and keeping him flat, I said to Mardi, “Get the gun quick.”
She reached forward and picked it up.
“Give it to me.”
She turned and looked at me. She could see in my eyes what I was going to do. Instead of giving me the gun, she stepped away.
I said desperately, “Honey, give me the gun.”
“No—you’re not going to kill him,” she said fiercely. “I won’t have you kill any one.”
“For Pete’s sake—can’t you see? It’s the only thing to do. We’ve gotta get out of this somehow. If this rat lives we’re finished —give me the gun.”
All this time, Curtis was lying on his back, with his head just appearing above the edge of the table. His eyes were bolting out of his head, and his skin was green.
Mardi said, “Nick—I wouldn’t have killed her. But she wanted to smash up the only decent thing I’d ever had. Your love for me. I was mad to have done it, but I wanted you so much. I tried to forget, but it’s always been with me—”
I said, “I’m going through with this—give me the gun.”
“I tried to save our love by killing someone, but it didn’t work out that way. You want to do it too. We could never face each other. Let him go, Nick.”
She was right. I stepped off the table and stood away. Curtis got to his feet slowly, his face twitching.
Mardi said, “Wait here. I’ll get you the cheque.”
I turned my back on Curtis. I just couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Mardi touched my hand as she went past me. “It’ll work out all right, Nick—if you can still love me,” she said.
I turned, but she had already run out of the room, across to her bedroom, where I knew she kept her cheque-book.
Curtis said, “By Heck! You try any more tricks—”
From Mardi’s room came the sound of a revolver shot. The sharp crack of the gun made both of us start forward. Then we stopped and looked at each other.
Curtis drew his lips off his teeth. “So she’s double-crossed me again,” he said.
He stood hesitating, then he walked into the bedroom. I didn’t move. From where I stood I could see him looking into the room. I could see a sudden shiver run through him, and he turned away and came into the hallway. He didn’t look at me. He stood, thinking. Then he walked to the front door and went down the long path. I could hear him walking on the gravel, but I didn’t watch him go.
When he had gone, I went out into the garden. I went down to the sea, and stood looking at the blue rollers. I didn’t want to look at Mardi now. I wanted to remember her as I had known her. I wanted to see her as she had always been. I could not weep for her, because everything had dried up inside me.
A big seagull suddenly flew over my head and circled round me. Then, as if startled by my stillness, it sped, like a departing spirit, swiftly out to sea.
THE END
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