To satisfy your legal mind I am asking Miss Lennox to witness my signature. I repeat again that I am killing myself, and no matter what Helen says, this is not a case of murder but of suicide.
Miss Lennox has, of course, no knowledge of the contents of this letter.
So long.
ERLE DESTER
Witness: MAY LENNOX
Secretary,
1145c Marlin Avenue
Hollywood.
'What are you doing?' Helen asked sharply. I turned and looked at her. White-faced, she stood in the doorway, watching me.
I folded the letter and put it in my pocket.
'What are you reading?' she asked.
I scarcely heard her. I was remembering his words: You have only to fake clues, tell enough lies to turn my suicide into murder, and then - if you have been very clever and you haven't made any mistakes - you will get the money.
Three-quarters of a million!
I realized that his letter gave me protection if I could only think of a way to turn his suicide into murder. If I made a mistake, if I was found out, I had only to produce this letter to keep out of trouble.
'Glyn!'
It was the first time she had ever called me by my first name.
'Wait,' I said. 'Don't do anything. Let me think.'
'We must get a doctor and call the police,' she said. 'I'll use the phone upstairs.'
'Wait!' I said again.
There was a note in my voice that stopped her dead. She stared at me.
'Don't call them yet. Don't do anything. Go upstairs and wait for me.'
'But we must tell them...'
I went up to her and taking her by the arms I gave her a vicious little shake.
'Do what I tell you! Wait for me upstairs!'
She must have seen by my face that this was no time to argue.
I went into Dester's study and stood looking at him. If only I could put the clock back. If only I had time to think out a perfect murder plan. If only I had known the fool was going to kill himself so I could have set the stage.
Three-quarters of a million!
It was worth any risk except a murder rap and I didn't have to bother about that. His letter would keep me in the clear if I slipped up and the police thought I had killed him.
If he would only stay just as he was until I had time to work out a foolproof plan. In a little while rigor mortis would set in. A police surgeon would know to within an hour when he died. The police would then find out that both Helen and I were in the house when he died. If I hid the gun to make it look like murder, they would think we had either faked the murder or had actually murdered him: either way we wouldn't get the money. We needed to have perfect alibis. We needed to prove we were miles away when he died.
Time was everything, and that was the one thing I hadn't got.
I stood there, watching him bleed, while I racked my brains for an idea.
The house was silent. The only sounds that came to me were the faint ticking of the desk clock and the steady thumping of my heart. Then above these sounds, but so faint that if I hadn't been standing still I shouldn't have heard it, came the gentle rumble of the deep-freeze cabinet motor starting up.
That sound nudged my brain alive. I saw then how I could turn the clock back. I hadn't worked as a refrigerator salesman for two years without learning what a refrigeration plant can do. Before I was turned loose on to the road I had taken a six-weeks' course on the principles of refrigeration. Among the things I had learned was the use of a refrigerating plant in morgues and its effects on a dead body.
I saw at once that I now had the means to make Dester stay just as he was until I had time to work out a foolproof plan.
Given any luck, I knew I was now only one jump away from getting my hands on those seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
* * *
A little over an hour later, I went upstairs to Helen's room.
She had drawn the curtains. The bedside lamp was on, casting shadows. She lay on the bed, in an oyster-coloured silk wrap, her face fine drawn and pale, a cigarette burning between her fingers.
I leaned against the door and looked at her and she looked at me without moving.
'Why have you been all this time?' she asked. 'Have you called the police?'
I walked across to one of the lounging chairs, set a bottle of whisky, two glasses and a bottle of Whiterock on the table and sat down.
'No. I haven't called them.'
'What do you think you're doing?' she asked sharply and half sat up. 'You must call them.'
I made two big drinks, carried one over to her and put it on the bedside table, then I went back to the chair, sat down again and took a long pull at my glass.
'Glyn! Why haven't you called the police?' she said, her voice shrill.
'You heard what he said,' I returned. 'He said if we were very clever and made no mistakes we could get the money. You want the money, don't you?'
She swung her legs off the bed and sat up. Her green eyes were glittering like emeralds.
'What do you mean? He's set a trap for us. You don't think I'm going to be such a fool as to try to get the money now I know there is a trap, do you?'
'Listen: we can get that money. The National Fidelity will have to pay up if we can prove to them he was murdered.'
'That is exactly what he wanted us to do,' she said. 'We're not going to do it. We can't prove he was murdered unless we involve ourselves. What do you imagine I have been doing up here all this time? I've thought about it. If we hide the gun and say he was murdered, they'll pick on us. If we had time to think of something, time to arrange an alibi, we might do it, but we haven't time. He's dead. They'll know when he died. We've got to call the police at once!'
'But we have got the time,' I said.
She stared at me.
'What do you mean?'
'What I say. We have got the time. We have all the time in the world.'
'We haven't! He won't remain like he is for long. You must know that. A doctor can tell when he died.'
'I have put him in the deep-freeze cabinet,' I said.
'What?'
She started to her feet.
'I have put him in the deep-freeze cabinet.'
'You must be mad!'
'Shut up and listen,' I said quietly. 'I'm not mad. I know what I'm doing. What you don't know is I'm something of an expert in refrigeration. I used to sell deep-freeze cabinets. Before I was turned loose on the suckers, I took an intensive course on the subject so I would know all the answers when the suckers tried to act smart. The reason why Dester was so sure he had laid a foolproof trap for us was because he was certain we would have no time to fake alibis nor to think up a smart plan. He was relying on the fact that a doctor can tell within an hour or two when a man dies. Dester died at eight-forty, and no doubt the police could prove that we were both in the house at that time. That was what Dester was relying on. By putting him in the deep-freeze, I've beaten him. At that temperature the normal process of deterioration is arrested. Bleeding will stop; rigor mortis won't set in. We can keep him in the cabinet for six weeks or six months, and it is only when we take him out that deterioration begins. Are you following all this?' I leaned forward and stared at her. 'When we take him out and after some hours, he will begin to bleed again, and later rigor mortis will set in. Look, let me put it even plainer: suppose we keep him in the cabinet until next Saturday week, then we take him out and dump his body somewhere. Suppose the police find him the following day. The police surgeon would be ready to swear that he died on Saturday when in reality he died fifteen days before. Don't you see how simple it has made it for us?'
She sat still, her fists clenched. I thought I could hear the faint thudding of her heartbeats, but the sound might have been my own heart hammering against my side.
'No!' she exclaimed suddenly. 'I won't have anything to do with it. It's too dangerous. They'll find out.'
'What's the matter with you? You di
dn't worry about throwing Van Tomlin out of the window, did you?'
'I didn't throw him out!'
'That's your story. You're in a much safer position now.'
'No. They'll think I killed him. I'm sure they will.'
'Don't be such a fool. This is our chance to get the money. Do you think I'd touch it for one moment if I thought we could go wrong? I know what I'm talking about. If we can't think of a foolproof idea, then we don't go ahead. All we will have to do is to take him out of the freezer, dump him somewhere with the gun in his hand and inform the insurance company he has killed himself. They won't want it proved otherwise. They'll be working on our side if we can't get a bright idea, and when those boys are working for you, you're safe.'
She picked up the glass of whisky and took a long drink. Her hand was shaking.
'It's that man Maddux who frightens me.'
'So what? We're forewarned, aren't we? Okay, suppose he is all that tough and efficient? We've got the time. Time is everything in this. We've got the time to give ourselves a watertight, foolproof alibi. We don't try it until we have gone over it again and again; rehearsed it again and again until we know it inside out. This isn't going to be a rush job. We can take six months if we want to.'
'But suppose they think we did it? Suppose we do it so well, they prove it was us who murdered him?'
'I've even got the answer to that one too,' I said and took Dester's letter from my pocket. 'This is a letter Dester gave me to post. It's to his attorney. Luckily for us I forgot to post it. I'll read it to you.'
She sat motionless, her beautiful face white and her great green eyes stony while I read the letter to her. When I had finished, she drew in a long, slow breath.
'The devil!' she said softly. 'So it was a trap. He never intended me to get the money. The devil!'
'Never mind. He was smart, but not smart enough,' I said, folding the letter and putting it back in my wallet. 'If something goes wrong; if we make a bad mistake - and we're not going to make a bad mistake - but if we do, and the police think we murdered him, this letter will keep us out of the death cell. That's all that worries me. For three-quarters of a million dollars I'm willing to risk a fraud rap, but not a murder rap.'
She held out her hand. 'I want that letter.'
I shook my head.
'Sorry, but you're not having it. I'm keeping it. You're gorgeous to look at, but I don't trust you further than I can throw you. This letter is my guarantee against a double cross. If you and I are going to work this scheme, I'm not giving you the slightest chance of tossing me out of a window after you have cashed in nor am I giving you the slightest chance of hanging a murder rap around my neck. No, I'm keeping it. I'll look after it as I'd look after my life. So long as I have it you will have to toe the line, and when the time comes to split the money, I'll be sure I'll get my share.'
She studied me, her face expressionless.
'I think you had better give that letter to me, Glyn,' she said. Her voice was almost a caress.
'You heard what I said.'
'I want it.' Her voice sharpened. 'I must have it!'
'I'm keeping it. You don't have to worry. I'll look after it.'
She shrugged, got slowly to her feet and went over to the dressing-table. She picked up a comb and ran it through her hair.
'Now you know the setup,' I said, watching her closely, 'are you willing to have a shot at it?'
'I still think it is dangerous,' she said and put down the comb. 'I still think this man Maddux will find out what we have done.'
She pulled open a drawer in her dressing-table. I was waiting for just that move. I was on my feet and had crossed to her in two strides. I grabbed hold of her arms, pinning them to her sides and swung her away from the dressing-table. I had just time to see the .25 automatic lying in the drawer before she arched her back and nearly had me over. I knew she was strong by the way she had handled Dester, but I didn't expect her to be quite as strong as she was. She broke my hold, got one arm free and her fingers, like claws, hooked towards my eyes. I caught her wrist just in time. She slammed against me, her foot hooked around the back of my leg. I tried to keep my balance, then went over on my back on the floor with a crash that shook the house. She came down on top of me, her fingers sinking into my throat. She had a grip like steel. She drove her knee into my chest, bending over me, her lips drawn off her teeth. Her expression turned me cold. I drove my fist into her midriff. I saw the sick look of pain come into her eyes and felt her grip slacken. I hit her again. She couldn't take that kind of treatment. She suddenly let go of me, scrambled to her feet and made a blind dash back to the dressing-table. I threw out an arm, my hand caught her ankle and brought her down. She squirmed around, her other foot in its bedroom slipper caught me on the side of the head with enough force to daze me. She kicked her imprisoned foot free, got up on hands and knees as I rolled towards her, locking my arms around her waist and pulling her down. She closed with me again, her hands seeking my throat, but this time, I kept my chin down. Using my weight I pinned her under me, but she somehow managed to get her knee against my chest and throw me off. It was my turn to make a dash for the dressing-table. We arrived at the same time. I drove my shoulder against hers, sent her reeling against the wall, dipped into the drawer and snatched up the gun. I swung around, pointing it at her.
'I don't want to shoot you,' I said breathlessly, 'but I will if you move.'
'Give me that letter,' she said in a tight, strangled voice.
'I said no and I mean no,' I said. 'Now get out of the way!'
'You'll be sorry.'
'But not half so sorry as I would be if I gave it to you.' I began to move forward slowly. She gave ground, circling away from me until I reached the door. I opened it without taking my eyes off her.
'We'll have another talk tomorrow,' I said. 'Relax. I'm handling this business. All you have to do is to say amen.'
Then I stepped out into the passage, slammed the door, turned and sprinted down the stairs, out of the house and across to the garage.
I slid into the Rolls, started the engine and drove fast down the drive.
I didn't relax until I had lodged the letter and Dester's gun in an all-night safe deposit. I put the key of the safe in an envelope, scribbled a note to my bank manager asking him to hold the key until I needed it.
I dropped the envelope with the key in it into my bank's letter box. Then I drove back to the house.
* * *
I only slept for a few hours that night. There was a lot to think about and a lot to arrange. I didn't attempt to think about how to turn Dester's suicide into a murder. There was time for that, but what I had to work out was how I was to explain away his absence to anyone who asked for him until I had worked out a plan to explain his absence, and how I was to keep the creditors from moving in now they knew he was out of a job and how I could stop them taking over the house and, of course, taking over the deep-freeze cabinet.
I wondered if I could find some out-of-the-way cabin which I could rent and to which I could move the deep-freeze cabinet, but, thinking about it, I decided the risk would be too great. Helen and I couldn't possibly handle the cabinet on our own. It was much too heavy. If it got out that we had moved the cabinet, the police or Maddux might just possibly hit on my scheme. The cabinet had to stay where it was: in sight of everyone, and I had to hope and pray it wouldn't cross anyone's mind to look inside it.
By the time the sun came up, I had got my first moves fairly well worked out. I got up just after six o'clock and walked over to the house.
I went up to Helen's bedroom, turned the handle and pushed open the door.
The early sun came through the slats of the blinds. She was lying on her back, her glistening red hair spread out on the pillow, one arm above her head. She was smoking and she looked at me as I came in, her face expressionless.
I shut the door, went over to the bed and sat beside her.
'Hello,' I said. 'Still hating me?'
'What have you done with the letter?' she asked, staring up at me.
'It's in a safe deposit where no one but me can get at it. Forget the letter. There's no point in us fighting. We've got ourselves a three-quarters of a million dollar partnership. What have we to fight about?'
She didn't say anything, but looked away, moving her long legs under the sheet restlessly.
'Well, you've had a few hours to think it over,' I went on. 'What's the verdict? Do I go after the money or don't I?'
'How will you do it?'
'I don't know - yet. I'm not even going to think about how I'm going to do it unless I'm sure you're in it with me. This I do know: we have ninety-nine chances out of a hundred of pulling it off. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it, and I wouldn't touch it if I thought for a moment we could slip up. Are you in with me or not?'
She nodded. 'Yes, I'm in it with you.'
I leaned forward and kissed her. I expected her to duck away, but she didn't. She remained still, looking up at the ceiling, but I might have been kissing the back of my hand for all the response I got. It was the kind of kiss Dester must have got time and time again until the poor guy had taken to the bottle, but it would take more than a frigid kiss to turn me into a rumdum.
I grinned down at her.
'And that's no skin off my nose either.'
She just stared blankly at me. I remember what Dester had said about loving a dead thing.
'Okay, stay in your iceberg,' I said. 'There are more important things to worry about. We've got to raise some money. That's the first essential. I want all the jewels you've got: anything he had that will raise money.'
She came alive then.
'You're not having anything of mine!'
'Don't be so dumb! We've got to have funds if we're going to swing this job. I'm putting two thousand bucks into the kitty. You've got to part with as much as you've got. I'm going right away to San Francisco to sell the Cadillac.'
'That's my car! You're not touching it!'
I let go of her and stood up.
1956 - There's Always a Price Tag Page 9