Do Me a Favour Drop Dead

Chapter Eight

I spent the night in the bed on which Beth and I had made love so often. The wind moaned around the house and there were moments when I imagined I could hear Frank’s dying fingers scratching on the garage door. It was probably the worst night I have ever lived through, although that first night when the cell door clanged shut, could have been worse, but not much worse.

I now had to accept the bitter fact that Beth had played me for a sucker. She had encouraged me to murder Frank; she had relied on my planning; she had gone along with everything I had said, and once Frank was dead, she had ditched me, knowing I couldn’t expose her without exposing myself to a murder charge. Okay, she had been smart, but now, it was my turn to be smart. With a feeling of vicious fury, I told myself she wasn’t going to get away with this. If it was the last thing I did, I would fix her.

Lying in the bed, I thought about her. I remembered our conversation which now seemed a long time ago.

I remembered saying to her: What would you do if he died and you got his money?

She had been lying, naked, by my side, and I could see her in my mind as clearly as if she were with me at this moment and I could hear her sigh as she said: Do? I would go back to ’Frisco where I was born. A woman with a million dollars can have a ball in ’Frisco.

If I could believe that then she would still be somewhere in Frisco, but Frisco was a big city. Hunting for her could be a slow, perhaps impossible task.

I moved restlessly as I thought. She was now worth a million. She wouldn’t stay at some cheap hotel or motel. She would want to spend her money. She would install herself in some luxury apartment or some luxury hotel or even rent a house. I would have to be careful not to alert her I was hunting for her. To make inquiries could send her on the run. No: that wasn’t the way to play it.

It wasn’t until the sky turned grey and the first hint of the sun came through the big window that an idea occurred to me.

I remembered the big restaurant-cum-motel just outside Frisco and remembered her telling me that she once worked there. Then I remembered the chef... what was his name? Mario? Yes, Mario. He had been scared of her. Maybe if I handled him right, he could give me some information about her. I knew next to nothing about her except she had said she planned to live in Frisco, that she had been born there, that she had met Marshall at this restaurant. Before I began to hunt for her I had to get as much information about her as I could and Mario seemed a good bet.

I decided not to waste time. As soon as I had breakfast, I cleaned up, locked up the house, put the keys in an envelope addressed to the real estate agent, then getting in the VW, I drove down the dirt road to the Frisco highway, knowing I would never see that house again.

As I was about to edge out on to the highway, I saw Sheriff McQueen’s car waiting to turn against the traffic. I felt my heart skip a beat. What was he doing here? Had he become suspicious?

McQueen was at the wheel and a young, fresh complexioned man, wearing police uniform sat at his side. Seeing me, McQueen waved, then as a gap appeared in the traffic, he swung the car and pulled up close to me.

I got out of my car and walked over to his, my heart thumping, my hands sweaty.

‘Hi, Sheriff,’ I said. ‘You’ve just caught me. I’m pulling out.’

‘Meet Jack Allison, my new deputy,’ McQueen said, nodding to the man at his side.

‘Hi,’ Allison said and gave me a friendly grin.

‘So Ross finally got his transfer,’ I said for something to say.

‘He’s quit the force.’ McQueen shrugged. ‘Got himself a job with a Security company in Frisco.’ He grimaced. ‘Glad to see him go.’

‘I guess.’ A pause, then I said, ‘I’m going to Frisco myself. I’m hoping to find a job.’ I took the envelope containing the keys of the house from my pocket and offered it to him. ‘If you could give these keys to Mr. Curby, the real estate agent, I would be most obliged.’

‘I’ll give them to him.’ He took the envelope and put it in his pocket. ‘So you’re leaving. Why not stay in Wicksteed, Devery? You could do a lot worse. Bert was talking about you last night. He still wants you to be his partner.’

I shook my head.

‘I guess I’m footloose, Sheriff. I want to try my luck in a big city.’

‘Any news of Mrs. Marshall?’

‘Not a thing. Mr. Bernstein is handling her affairs. He sacked me.’ I gave what I hoped was a rueful smile. ‘The house is sold. I guess that’s it.’

‘Yeah. It doesn’t look as if Mrs. Marshall will help with our scheme?’

‘I wouldn’t know, Sheriff. Joe could have a word with Mr. Bernstein.’

‘Yeah.’ He started his engine. ‘Well, okay, Devery. I wish you luck. Don’t forget Bert still wants you as a partner. He thinks a lot of you.’

‘I won’t forget.’

I shook hands with him and then with Allison, then I got back into my car. I drove on to the highway, leaving them looking after me.

I arrived at the restaurant-cum-motel a little after 15.00. Parking the car, I walked into the restaurant, paused to look around, then picked a corner table near the bar. The lunch rush was over and the place was empty. After a minute or so, Mario came from the kitchen and wandered over to me. When he reached my table, he recognized me and his fat face lit up with a smile.

‘It’s Beth’s friend,’ he said and offered his hand.

I shook hands with him.

‘Have a beer with me if you’re not busy,’ I said.

He laughed.

‘Does it look as if I’m busy?’ He waved to the empty room. ‘I won’t get busy now for a couple of hours.’ He went away, poured two beers, returned and sat at the table. ‘Devery... that’s the name, isn’t it?’

‘You have a good memory.’

‘Yeah. It helps to have a good memory in my business. People like to be recognized. Yeah... you were teaching her to drive... a joke.’ He laughed.

I stared directly at him.

‘She made a good screw.’

He nodded.

‘I’m sure. I never got there myself, being happily married.’ He grimaced. ‘I don’t need women like Beth.’

‘You heard about her husband... Frank Marshall?’

He sipped his beer, screwing up his eyes as he regarded me.

‘What about him?’

‘He’s dead.’

Putting down his beer, Mario crossed himself.

‘God rest his soul. It will come to all of us.’ He drank some beer, then went on, ‘From what I’ve heard he wasn’t much... a lush, wasn’t he?’

‘You can say that again.’

‘I heard he owned a big house. Did she get that?’

‘That and some money.’

He laughed and slapped his fat thigh.

‘Trust Beth. She was always on to a winner. So she has the house and some money.’ He leaned forward as he asked, ‘How much?’

As if I would tell him.

‘I wouldn’t know... some money.’

‘Well, that’s nice. Now she can keep her fancy cop in cigarettes and beer.’

The cold dead finger crept up my spine. Somehow I managed to keep my face expressionless.

‘Cop? What cop?’

‘You wouldn’t know him: a deputy at Wicksteed: one of those jerks who is always looking for trouble... name of Ross. She was crazy about him and I guess still is. On his day off, he would come here when she was running this joint. She would leave everything to me to handle and shack up with him in one of our cabins.’ He paused and winked at me. ‘The way you and she shacked up when she brought you here. Every week, he came and screwed her. To see her with him was something. She couldn’t keep her eyes nor her hands off him. In my time, I’ve seen women besotted with men, but nothing like this. Well, if she had money now, he’ll get it. He had a hook in her and, believe me, it’s a hook that’ll stay in.’

I sat staring at him. What he had said hit me like a punch in the belly. I felt bile rush into my mouth. Getting up I ran to the men’s room, somehow reached a loo, then threw up.

Ten minutes later, I got hold of myself. I washed my face, drank some water, then bracing myself, I returned to the restaurant. My heartbeat was sluggish. I was sweating and my mind only half working.

Mario had finished his beer and stared at me as I joined him at the table.

‘Something wrong?’ he asked as I dropped into my chair.

‘It’s okay now. Something I ate last night. I had to throw up. Let’s have a shot of whisky.’

His face brightened.

‘I don’t often drink whisky, but why not?’

I had myself under control by the time he came back with a bottle of Old Roses and two shot glasses. He poured. We drank.

‘What did you eat last night?’ he asked sympathetically.

‘Clams... never again.’

‘That’s it. They are either right or they are poison. Are you okay now, Mr. Devery?’

I finished my drink, poured another and shoved the bottle his way.

‘I’m fine. You were telling me about Ross. I met him. I once had a job in Wicksteed. I hear he has resigned from the police force and is in some security job here.’

‘Is that right?’ Mario shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘Have you seen Beth since I was last here?’

‘No.’ He grimaced, sipped his drink, then added, ‘I’m not sorry. She always finds fault. Do you think she is in Frisco?’

‘I know she is.’

‘Then maybe she’ll look in.’ He finished his drink. ‘No skin off my nose if she doesn’t.’

‘From what she told me, she always wanted to settle here.’ I poured him another drink.

‘That’s right. She was born here. Her father left her a little house on Orchard Avenue. He called the house Apple Trees. She once told me there wasn’t an apple on the place. She told me she had an offer to sell, but she wouldn’t. She said the house was part of her background.’

I had all I wanted to know. Finishing my drink, I dropped a five dollar bill on the table and stood up.

‘Well, I guess I’m on my way,’ I said. ‘It’s been nice talking to you.’

He stared up at me.

‘Is there something wrong?’

‘Keep the change.’

I walked out of the restaurant and to my car.

I booked into a cheap motel and shut myself in the small cabin. I needed to be on my own, to sit still and to think. I told the elderly reception clerk I had been driving all night and wanted to rest up for a while. He couldn’t have been less interested. I asked him if he had a street guide of Frisco. He found one after searching through a drawer.

Shut up in the shabby air conditioned room, I lit a cigarette and took stock.

It was as if I had been blindfolded and now Mario’s information had whipped off the blinder and I could see just what a sucker I had been.

With the cigarette burning between my fingers, I thought back. I recalled the first time I had met Ross. I could see him clearly: tall, thin, young — around twenty-nine — small hard cop eyes and a thin mouth. Beth’s lover! A man, according to Mario, with whom Beth was besotted. By sheer chance he had investigated me and had found I had been in jail. He must have, discussed me with Beth. I was a stranger in town with a criminal record. To them, I must have seemed a gift from the gods to be used as their cat’s paw. Ross had been at the railroad station when Marshall had arrived, drunk. I was sure now this had been a deliberate set-up. I had fallen for it by driving Marshall home and he had fallen for it by hiring me to act as his chauffeur. Probably Beth had persuaded him he must have someone to drive him. The rest had been too easy. All she had to do was to get me on the bed. The rest of the grave I had dug for myself. Then I remembered the time when I had driven Marshall back from Frisco and had found Ross with Beth. He had probably been screwing her, thinking Marshall would be away for three or four days. They must have had a hell of a fright, but they had played it so cool, they had fooled me. I now could understand why Ross had said Marshall’s death was an open and shut case. The last thing either of them would want was a murder investigation and McQueen and Luke Brewer had fallen for it.

I moved restlessly.

Both of them had certainly played it smart, landing me with a murder and no money. They were probably laughing their heads off that they had found such a sucker.

Well, she had got the money and she had got her boyfriend, but she and Ross still had me, although right now they wouldn’t know that.

Picking up the street guide I located Orchard Avenue. There was just a chance she was there with him. After all, I reasoned, she couldn’t have got the money just yet although Bernstein would arrange credit for her, but there was still a chance she was there.

If I found her what was I going to do?

I thought about this. It presented a problem. It would be useless to corner her and demand my share of the money. She would only laugh at me. Suppose I threatened to tell Bernstein the whole story? That wouldn’t get me anywhere except a long term in jail, even if she got one too, but with her money and Bernstein working for her the chances of her drawing a murder rap were remote. It would be my word against hers and I would have to admit it had been my plan and I had actually murdered Marshall. She could swear she hadn’t known a thing about it, and there was no proof that she had.

After more thinking, I was sure that trying to bluff her would only land me in trouble. I would have to find some way to get the money out of her, and that I was determined to do.

Then I remembered what Mario had said: A deputy at Wicksteed. She was crazy about him and I guess, still is. To see her with him was something. She couldn’t keep her eyes nor her hands off him. He had a hook in her and, believe me, it’s a hook that will stay in.

If this were true, and I had to make sure it was true, then Ross could give me the chance of getting the money from her.

It came down to this: was Ross’s life worth five hundred thousand dollars to her? If it wasn’t then I would have to think again, but if it was, the money was as good as mine.

I remained in the motel cabin until dusk, then I went over to the cafe and had a hot dog and a coffee. There were very few people in the cafe and none of them paid any attention to me.

Orchard Avenue was tucked away off one of the climbing hills southwest of the city. I found it with some difficulty, having to stop and ask a couple of times. As soon as I saw the street sign, I found parking and leaving the VW, I walked down the long street with wooden bungalow style houses either side. Each house had a name, but I didn’t find Apple Trees. The street was some two hundred yards long so I crossed and started down the other side.

Halfway down I saw a fat woman leaning on a gate, smoking a cigarette and taking the night air. As I walked by her, she said, ‘You looking for someone, mister? I see you looking.’

The street lighting wasn’t much but I could just make out a fat, friendly looking face. She was wearing a shapeless dress and she looked lonely. I had my back to the light so she couldn’t make much of me.

‘Good evening,’ I said. ‘Yes, I was looking for a house.’

She nodded.

‘I guessed you were. These house names are darned stupid. Why not numbers? Maybe I can help you.’

My mind worked swiftly. Was this dangerous? She could be a friend of Beth’s, but looking at her, I doubted it.

‘Apple Trees,’ I said. ‘I hear it is up for rent I’m looking for a place for my wife and kids.’

She sucked smoke down, coughed, then thumped her floppy bosom.

‘I shouldn’t smoke, but I can’t give it up — no will power.’ She dropped her cigarette butt on the grass and put her foot on it. ‘Apple Trees?’ She gave a snort. ‘You’d never find it unless you were told. Top of the road, down a narrow lane between two houses and it’s right at the back, but don’t waste your time, mister. It’s not for rent. She moved back a couple of days ago.’

The way she emphasized ‘she’ alerted me. Disapproval oozed from her.

‘These estate agents!’ I made a gesture of disgust. ‘They told me the place was for rent.’

‘She’s never rented it.’ The fat woman shook her head. ‘It’s stood empty for three years. Then suddenly she arrives with her fancy man... a couple of days ago.’

My heart skipped a beat.

Keeping my voice steady, I said, ‘Maybe she’s getting it ready to rent.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on it.’ She lit another cigarette. ‘This is a respectable street, mister. None of us living here need a couple like them shacking up together. It’s disgraceful!’

‘At the end of the road? While I’m here, I may as well ask her. She could be thinking of renting.’

‘You got kids, mister?’

‘A boy and a girl,’ I lied.

‘Then you go along and talk to her. We could do with a few kids on this street. We’re all old people... good for nothing. I’d rather have kids here than her and her fancy man.’

‘I can but ask. Thanks for your help.’

‘I wish you luck. What did you say your name was?’

‘Lucas... Harry Lucas.’

‘I’m Emma Brody. If you get fixed up tell your wife to drop in and see me.’ Nodding, she plodded back to her house.

I waited until she had shut the front door, then turning, I walked back to the end of the road. I found a narrow dirt road between two bungalows as she had said. The road was just wide enough between the hedges of the two bungalows to take a car. For a long moment I hesitated. If I walked up there and Beth or Ross or both of them came driving down, I would be trapped, but I didn’t hesitate for long. I went up the road fast, half running. There was no street lighting but the road was moonlit. It curved suddenly and I saw the bungalow set in a small garden and there was a lighted sign on the gate: Apple Trees.

Light showed behind red curtains and a TV set was blasting. There was a carport. I could see a car which looked like a convertible two-seater parked there.

I stood at the gate looking at the bungalow. It was L-shaped. Probably it had three bedrooms and a big living room. As I stood there I saw a shadow cross the curtains. I would know that thin outline anywhere... Beth!

I lifted the gate latch and pushing the gate open I walked across the grass to the bungalow. The windows were open and some pop singer was yelling his head off.

I moved close to the window and waited.

The yelling went on for some ten minutes, then suddenly the set was snapped off.

‘If I hear any more of this crap I’ll go out of my mind!’

The sound of Ross’s snarling voice made me stiffen.

‘Try another station, darling,’ Beth said. She had never called me that. ‘The fights will be on in half an hour.’

‘Who the hell cares about those bums?’ Ross demanded. ‘Hell! I’m getting sick of living in this crummy hole. All these old fossils staring at us and gossiping. I want out!’

‘But we must wait, darling. I’ve told you that. The money won’t come to me for another two weeks.’

‘Two weeks! I’m not staying here for two weeks! You’ll be getting the money for the house, won’t you? Let’s take an apartment... something with class.’

‘Don’t you really like it here, honey? I was born here. I look on it as my real and only home.’ There was a pleading note in her voice.

‘Oh God! Don’t start that again!’ He sounded savage. ‘We’re at last in the money! We’re not going to live in a two bit bungalow. You talk to that crumb Bernstein. Tell him you want action!’

‘He mustn’t know about you yet, darling. He’s smart. I don t want him to get ideas.’

‘So, okay, he’s smart, but tell him you want a big advance then let’s get out of Frisco. We could go to Miami and lose ourselves. Once we get the money, we get lost.’

‘I’ve always wanted to settle in Frisco.’

‘Forget it! You’ll love Miami and we’re away from gossip.’

‘All right, honey, anything you say.’

‘That’s it... anything I say. Come here.’

I stepped back and moved quietly back to the gate.

A revealing conversation. It told me she was hooked and that was all I wanted to know. It also told me she wouldn’t have the money for another two weeks. I could wait. In the meantime I would have to buy a gun.

Having spent a restless night at the motel and eaten a badly cooked breakfast, I called my bank at Wicksteed and checked that Bernstein had deposited the $700 he owed me to my credit. He had. I told the clerk to have the amount credited to the Chase National branch which was right by the motel. He said he would do it right away. I then went across to the Chase National and opened an account with them, telling them of the deposit on the way.

I was now worth $1700 and that would be plenty for the time being. I then drove down town. After looking around, I went in to a big pawnshop and told the clerk I wanted to buy a handgun.

There was no problem about that. He offered a Smith & Wesson, a Browning .32 and a Mauser 7.63. I chose the Mauser because it looked impressive and was a top class engineering job with a detachable shoulder holster and it also looked menacing. He sold me a box of twenty-five slugs. Then regarding me, he said I would need a police permit. I got the idea he was registering my face in his mind. That I had to expect. I said I’d go around to the station house right away. I gave him a fictitious name and address, signed a form and that was that.

During my service in Vietnam I had learned how to handle firearms. The Mauser held no mysteries for me.

Putting the gun in my glove compartment, I then drove out towards Orchard Avenue. On the way up the previous night I had spotted a real estate agent’s office. Reaching it, I parked and walked into a small office where a bald, fat man sat behind a shabby desk, twiddling his thumbs and staring into space. He showed me yellow teeth, got up, waved me to a chair and asked what he could do for me.

I said I was interested in buying or renting a property on Orchard Avenue. He looked sad, shook his head and said no houses on Orchard Avenue were available, but he had some nice properties...

I interrupted him, saying I fancied Orchard Avenue and that’s where I wanted a house.

‘Well, it depends on how long you can wait. They are old people up there and they pass on from time to time. You never know. An old lady died last year and the house was snapped up by another old lady. It is a matter of time.’

‘I can wait,’ I said. ‘I’ve still to sell my house in L.A. Right now I have a job here. Is there a chance of getting a furnished room on Orchard Avenue while I wait?’

He found a pin behind his coat lapel and began to explore his yellow teeth while he thought.

‘Maybe,’ he said finally. ‘Mrs. Emma Brody might take in a lodger. I’ve known her for years. She lost her husband not so long ago. She might be interested. Why not try her?’

‘You wouldn’t have a plan of the estate, would you?’

He dug into a file and gave me a plan. I asked him to locate Mrs. Brady’s house. He marked it with a pencil.

‘What’s this house here?’ I asked, pointing to Apple Trees.

‘Not for sale. I’ve tried dozens of times to get the owner to part: no soap.’

I was examining the plan. I could see from Mrs. Brody’s rear windows, she would have a direct view of Beth’s place.

It would seem the cards were falling my way. I thanked him, said I would call on Mrs. Brody and should I mention his name? He shook his head sadly, said he just wanted to be helpful. Rentals were more bother than they were worth.

After shaking hands with him, I left him twiddling his thumbs and drove up to Orchard avenue. I parked outside Mrs. Brody’s house and rang the doorbell.

She came to the door, a cigarette dangling from her lips.

I explained who I was and she recognized me. Her fat, friendly face lit up.

‘Apple Trees isn’t for rent,’ I said, ‘but the agent said property does come up for sale from time to time and I can wait. I like it here. He said you might have a room to rent. I’m working on a computer system and need quiet. Would you consider renting me a room?’

Again there was no problem. She wanted me to have the best bedroom overlooking the street, but I said I wanted quiet, so she showed me the back bedroom which was small, but comfortably furnished. I looked out of the window: a little more than a hundred yards away, I could see Apple Trees.

We made terms and I said I would move in that afternoon. She said if I wanted meals she would be happy to oblige. As I intended to keep a twenty-four hour watch on the bungalow I wouldn’t want to go out so I arranged with her to supply two simple meals a day.

Leaving her, I drove back to the motel, checked out, then going to another pawnshop, I bought a pair of powerful field glasses and a portable typewriter. Then from a nearby store I bought a pack of typing paper and a couple of notebooks. I wanted to look convincing when Mrs. Brody cleaned my room.

I had lunch and then moved into my room. Mrs. Brody gave me a key. She seemed inclined to gossip, but I cut her short, saying I had to start work right away.

‘If you want to see some TV while you’re here, you come down. I like a bit of company.’

I thanked her and went up to the room, shut and locked the door, pulled up a chair and getting out the field glasses, I focussed them on Apple Trees.

So began a four day and half the night’s vigil. After three days, I got the pattern of the way Beth and Ross lived.

Around ten o’clock, Ross went off in the car. Soon after eleven, Beth, carrying a shopping bag, left the house and went away on a motor scooter. She got back around 12.45. Ross didn’t show up until 18.00. From time to time I got a good view of them at the window. They didn’t go out in the evening, but settled down to watching the tube.

It seemed to me a dull kind of life considering the money she was worth until I realized they were afraid to be seen together in the city. They could run into Bernstein who was sharp enough to recognize Ross, having seen him at the inquest and at the funeral.

Mrs. Brody provided adequate meals. I did a little typing to convince her I was working. Fortunately, she was often out visiting neighbours. On the fourth morning, as she was cleaning my room, she said I should go out and get some fresh air.

I said my work was urgent and I was a night bird.

‘I take a walk when you are in bed. You don’t have to worry about me.’

For the next six days, I watched, and finally, I was satisfied that Beth was always alone from 13.00 to 18.00. I decided it was time to make my first move.

So that afternoon, just after 14.00, I went to my parked VW, got the Mauser from the glove compartment, stuck it in my waist band and then wandered up the street and up the dirt road to Apple Trees.

Beth was in the garden, on her knees, weeding the rose bed. I approached her silently over the grass and she wasn’t aware of me until my long shadow fell before her.

She remained motionless for a brief moment, then quickly looked over her shoulder.

We looked at each other and I wondered how I could have ever been so infatuated with her. The sight of her hard, mask-like face, her remote eyes and the hard set of her mouth now sickened me.

‘Hello, Beth,’ I said quietly. ‘Remember me?’

She stood up slowly and faced me, I had given her a hell of a shock, but it scarcely showed.

‘What do you want?’ Her voice hard and cold.

‘Let’s go inside and talk,’ I said.

‘Get out!’ She spat the words at me.

‘Just a short talk, Beth. It would be better for you and for Ross.’

I saw her flinch. So Mario had been right. She was still hooked.

‘I’ve nothing to say to you.’ There was no conviction in her voice. ‘Get out!’

I started towards the bungalow, and after hesitating, she came after me. We went inside and I found my way into the big living room. It was a nice room, well-furnished and homely.

As she moved past me, I closed the door and leaned against it.

‘I want my half share of Frank’s money,’ I said.

Her hands closed into fists and her dark eyes glittered.

‘Try and get it!’

‘I said I would keep it short, so I’ll keep it short.’ I pulled the Mauser from my belt and showed it to her.

Her eyes widened and she took a step back.

‘Relax, Beth. You don’t have to worry about yourself. This gun has a magazine of ten bullets. Not one of them is intended for you, but all ten of them are reserved for Ross unless you part with five hundred thousand dollars.’

Her mouth twitched.

‘You get nothing from me, you cheap bluffer!’

‘Don’t make that mistake, Beth. I’m not bluffing. A half a million isn’t something I bluff about. Having killed one man, another means nothing to me. I’m telling you, unless I get my share by the end of the month, Ross will get ten slugs in his gut. There’s nothing to stop me. You can’t go to the police for protection. They would ask questions and that’s something you don’t want. It could take me a little time to set him up, but I’ll get him and there’s nothing you nor he can do about it. I know his routine. I’m having him watched. If he tries to skip, I’ll go after him. You either part with my share or he dies. Please yourself. I’ve been watching you two for two days. I know he wants you to go with him to Miami. You would be surprised how much I do know about you both. I’ll give you to the end of this week, then I’ll telephone you. You either say yes or no. That’s up to you. If you say yes, I’ll arrange how you pay me the money. If you say no, then Ross is as good as dead with his guts blown to hell.’

Without looking at her, I opened the door, stepped out into the hall, then walked without hurrying down the garden path, on to the dirt road and back to Mrs. Brody’s house.

Now it was up to her and as sure as I was feeling the hot sun on my back, I would kill Ross if she didn’t play.

Back in my room, I sat down, lit a cigarette, and took stock.

Beth now knew she was no longer dealing with a sucker. I had put my cards on the table: pay up or you lose your boyfriend. Knowing her, I was sure she wouldn’t part with five hundred thousand dollars without a fight. But what would she do?

I tried to put myself in her place and to think as she must be thinking now. Would she tell Ross? If she did, how would Ross react? He was a tough, ex-cop, but he could have a yellow streak. He couldn’t run to the Frisco cops to help him. They would want to know what it was all about and he was in no position to answer probing questions.

After some thought, it seemed to me, Beth and he had only two alternatives: to pay up or to kill me before I killed him.

If Ross was a killer, why hadn’t he murdered Marshall instead of dragging me into the act as their cat’s paw? It was possible he hadn’t the guts to kill, but I knew she had. Still, I warned myself, I mustn’t underestimate Ross. He could turn killer to keep that money.

I had told her I was having him watched. Would they believe that? The fact that I had told her I knew they were planning to go to Miami must have made an impact. Suppose they decided to make a run for it... leave in the middle of the night and vanish? Maybe they would decide the risk was too great. They couldn’t be sure I wasn’t watching and Ross could walk into a bullet.

Suppose Ross decided to hunt for me? They might guess I was somewhere on this estate. I was pretty sure Mrs. Brody had told her neighbours she had a lodger. Was Ross in the position to make inquiries? I thought not. According to Mrs. Brody and what he had said, no one on the estate approved of Beth nor of Ross. No one was friendly with them, but there were people like the milkman, the postman and the newsboy. Mrs. Brody might talk to them and Ross, with his police training, might learn from them about Mrs. Brody’s new lodger.

If they guessed I was holed up in the small back room, watching them, what could they do about it? Would Ross, with a gun, break in one night? He just might, but I had a gun too and he now knew it. Would he have the guts? If he chickened out, how about Beth? She might.

Getting up, I examined the door of my bedroom. It was solid and had an old fashioned mortice lock. Neither Beth nor Ross could take me by surprise and if they tried to, it would end in a shootout with Mrs. Brody screaming for the police. I decided as long as I remained in the room, I was safe. I had another five days to the end of the week. I could stay in this room for five days with no sweat.

Because I was sure there would be no action until Ross returned at 18.00, I lay on the bed and took a nap. For all I knew I might have to sit up all the night.

I didn’t wake up until Mrs. Brody came tapping on the door with my dinner at 19.15.

Cursing myself for over sleeping, I let Mrs. Brody in.

‘I guess I was taking a nap,’ I said as she put down the tray.

‘Just cold cuts tonight, but there’s a nice salad,’ she said. ‘I’m going to the movies.’

‘That’s fine. Have a good time.’

‘If you want to watch TV, you’re welcome.’

‘Not tonight, thanks.’

When she had gone, I went over to the window and took up the field glasses. Although it was still light, the red curtains were drawn. I would have given a lot to know what was going on in that big comfortable room. Had Beth told him?

I hurriedly ate the meal. As I finished I heard the front door slam. I sat down and watched the red curtains. When it grew dark, the lights behind the curtains went on. I watched for the next three hours, but nothing happened. Around 22.30, I heard Mrs. Brody come in and go to her room. I stayed watching Apple Trees until the lights went out in the living room and came up in one of the bedrooms.

Then unlocking my door, I went silently down to the living room. I had already got Beth’s telephone number from the book and I dialled the number.

There was a long delay, then she said, ‘Who is it?’

‘I’m watching the end of your lane, Beth,’ I said. ‘Sleep well,’ and I hung up.

If that didn’t stick, nothing would, so I returned to my room and went to bed.

The pattern of their lives changed the following morning.

Ross didn’t leave the bungalow as usual at ten o’clock. So she had told him! Nor did she leave to go shopping and the red curtains remained drawn. The newsboy arrived and tossed a paper on their porch, but neither of them came out to collect it.

A sign of nerves?

I thought so... a good sign for me.

I found it a strain to spend the whole day watching, but I watched. There was no sign of either of them. I had plenty of time to think and I decided to make things tricky for them if they decided to bolt.

So around one in the morning, when I was sure Mrs. Brody was asleep, I slipped out of the house and made my way to Apple Trees.

The bungalow was in darkness, but I took my time approaching it. I had had a lot of experience in jungle fighting and I knew how to approach a hostile objective silently and without being seen.

I reached the carport. The car door was unlocked. I opened the hood. Then using my flashlight, I removed the distributor head which I dropped into my pocket. I closed the hood, then returned the way I had come.

There would now be no quick packing and bolting, I thought, and undressing I got into bed.

The following day Beth went off on the motor scooter, but Ross didn’t show nor were the red curtains drawn back. I was beginning to think I had him scared, but I was taking no chances. I kept my bedroom door locked and kept a constant vigil at the window.

Beth got back in under an hour.

Two more days to go.

When Mrs. Brody had gone out, I went into her living room and called Beth’s number.

When she answered, I said, ‘If lover boy wants a slug in his guts, tell him to come looking for me tonight at the end of the lane. I’ll be waiting,’ and I hung up.

I was a great believer in a war of nerves.

I maintained my watch on the bungalow for the rest of the evening, but no one showed.

After dinner, I typed a message:

Around midnight when the lights in the living room of Apple Trees were still on and Mrs. Brody was in bed, I left the house and made a cautious way to the bungalow. On the way there, I found a heavy stone. I tied my note to the stone with a piece of string I had brought with me.

I approached the bungalow. There was no sound from the television set and the windows were closed.

When I was close enough, I stood up and heaved the stone at the middle window of the living room. The glass smashed and the stone brushed by the flimsy red curtain and thumped on the floor.

The Mauser in my hand, I dropped flat and waited.

There was a long pause, then the lights went out.

I waited.

Here was the test. Would Ross show?

Nothing happened. I lay on the grass and waited. I waited for twenty minutes. No sound came from the bungalow: no lights showed.

Ross wasn’t coming out for a High Noon shoot up.

Gutless?

I edged my way back across the grass, then when I reached the dirt road, I stood up and walked back to my room.