Killing Cousins

Eight

He walked to Willie’s, carrying a bag with a change of clothing in it, and he got there about ten o’clock. Willie, who was waiting for him downstairs in the living room, opened the door at once.

“Quincy,” she said, “where in hell have you been?”

“This morning,” he said, “I went to KC to make arrangements with my Cousin Fred about the Buick, but I’ve been home since the middle of the afternoon. Why?”

“I’ve been waiting and waiting for you.”

“Well, there’s nothing we can do until it becomes sufficiently late, so I didn’t think there was any particular hurry.”

“At least you could have come and kept me company.”

“Under the circumstances, Cousin, I think we had better be a little cautious about keeping each other company for a while.”

“No one else has been here at all. It wouldn’t have made the slightest difference if you’d come.”

“That’s true, as we now know, but you’ll have to admit that we couldn’t have anticipated it. You’re inclined to be emotional, Cousin, in situations where you should be detached. It’s a damn good thing, in my opinion, that you have me to help you.”

“You’re a darling to be so helpful, Quincy, and I admit it. It was just that I kept being lonesome and wanted you to come, but now that you’re here everything is all right again.”

He sniffed the odor of juniper berries and inspected her closely. He had not been aware of anything unusual about her at first, but now, clued by the odor, he saw that her eyes were a little foggy, and that her small face had assumed a kind of sultry laxness, and that she was, in fact, about half shot on what was probably Martinis.

“Something tells me,” he said, “that you’ve been drinking.”

“I’ve been drinking a little, it’s true, but not excessively. I’ve only had a few Martinis along because I was lonesome and needed them.”

“Please do me the favor of not having any more for any reason until we have disposed of Howard. It will be a difficult job at best, and we’ll need to be in good condition for it.”

“We? I was hoping you’d be able to accomplish it without my help.”

“No chance. I’m rather small, as you can see, and Howard must weigh two hundred at least. Dead weight. I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly lug him about by myself.”

“All right. I’ll help if I must. It’s only fair to do my part.”

“I’m glad you see it that way, since nothing would otherwise be done at all. What have you been doing all day?”

“This morning I went next door and talked with Gwen Festerwauld, and then I came home about noon and had a nap, and since then I’ve merely been doing this and that and having a few Martinis along and waiting and waiting.”

“What did you talk with Gwen about?”

“I told her that Howard had left me, because I thought it would be a good idea to get the story started around, and there’s no one who can get a story started around any better than Gwen.”

“That’s true. It’s just as well to get people talking about old Howard’s desertion as quickly as possible, and Gwen’s just the one to do it. I congratulate you, Cousin.”

“I am only doing my part. What do you have in the bag you have set there on the floor?”

“A change of clothing. I’ll certainly need a bath too, when we return from disposing of Howard. Lugging him about, in addition to digging a hole for him, will be hot and dirty work. I also have a pair of cotton gloves in my pocket, incidentally. It’s very rarely that I do anything to get blisters on my hands, and someone might consider it curious if I suddenly turned up with some.”

“I swear, Quincy, you simply think of everything. You’re about as clever as one person can be. Did you say you went to KC?”

“Yes.”

“And arranged about the Buick?”

“Yes. I’ll drive it over there after we’re through with old Howard.”

“Do you think your cousin can be trusted?”

“Don’t worry about Fred. Discretion is essential in his business, and he’s the soul of it. Now I think it’s time we got busy. The disposal of Howard will take considerable time, and then I must change clothes and drive the Buick to KC for Fred to appropriate, and afterward catch a plane to Dallas, Texas.”

“Are you actually going to Dallas to mail a letter?”

“Certainly. Can you think of any other way to get it mailed that wouldn’t be too risky? Don’t worry, Cousin. I’ll be back tomorrow night and safely in my cage Monday morning. The modern miracle of transportation, you know. I’ve written the letter, incidentally, and the first thing I must do now is type it on Howard’s portable Royal in his room. We’ll dispose of the portable with the bags and Howard. Come along upstairs. After I’ve typed the letter, you may read it and give me your opinion.”

“I don’t believe I care to read it. It would surely make me sad.”

“Never mind. You’ll read it soon enough when you get it in the mail.”

They went upstairs, Willie leading. Quincy waited in the hall outside the door to Howard’s room while Willie went into her own room and got the key and returned with it. Now that he had completed the necessary preliminaries to the disposal of Howard, Quincy was excited and satisfied and eager to get on with the principal business. He hummed a little tune under his breath as he waited. When Willie returned and let him in, he went directly to Howard and leaned over him for a moment and then straightened again with a pleased look.

“Fortunately,” he said, “old Howard bled very little, and the position he assumed in falling has prevented him from dripping on the carpet.”

“Quincy,” Willie said, “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t insist on trying to discuss such details with me. You’ll make me positively ill if you aren’t careful.”

“I’m not trying to discuss it. I only mentioned it as something that must be considered. Where is Howard’s portable?”

“He kept it in the closet, I think. You’ll probably find it pushed back on the floor.”

“All right. While I’m typing the letter, you can make yourself useful by carrying down the bags and putting them into the station wagon in the garage. The back seat must be folded down, of course. Is there a spade in the garage?”

“There’s a spade and a rake and some other tools.”

“The spade will be sufficient. We’ll need a flashlight or a lantern, however.”

“There’s no lantern that I know of, but there’s a flashlight already in the glove compartment of the wagon. Howard always kept it there in case of a flat tire or something at night.”

“That was very accommodating of Howard, I must say. Well, you take care of the things I’ve mentioned, and I’ll get on with the letter.”

He went over to the closet and found the portable where Willie had said he probably would. Although he was proficient in the touch method, he typed the letter hunt and peck out of deference to Howard. He typed it on plain paper, which he had brought with him, and after it was finished with appropriate strike-overs, a Howardish touch, he typed Willie’s name and address on a plain envelope and put the letter into the envelope and sealed it. By that time, Willie had returned, slightly disheveled and panting a little from her labors.

“Quincy,” she said, “I’m bound to say it’s damn inconsiderate of you to make me do all the hard work while you simply sit and peck at a typewriter.”

“Please don’t complain, Cousin. You’ve only done a few necessary things while I’ve completed something important that required my personal attention. Besides, I’ll have my share of hard work before we’re finished. Now, I think, it’s time to carry old Howard down and put him in the station wagon.”

“I wish it could be avoided.”

“Obviously it can’t, unless you want me to drop him out the window and load him from the lawn.”

“Oh, well, I don’t think I want you to do that. Besides showing disrespect, it might attract attention if someone happened by.”

“In that case, as I said, we must carry him down without any further delay.” Quincy went over and prodded Howard gently with a toe and then reached down and pinched his cheek. “Old Howard’s mighty stiff yet. He’ll be very difficult to handle. Damn it, Willie, why didn’t you think to turn off the air-conditioner in here today?”

“Would that have made a difference?”

“Certainly it would have made a difference. Surely you can understand the basic principle of cold storage. However, it’s too late now, and we will have to do the best we can with Howard as he is. Take hold of his feet, Cousin. I’ll give you the advantage of the lighter end.”

Willie did as she was told, took hold of his feet, but it was clear that it required enormous exertion of will, and that she would have greatly preferred not to. Quincy, at the head end, backed across the room and out into the hall, Howard between and Willie following, and it was perfectly true, as Quincy had predicted, that Howard was extremely difficult to handle, besides being very heavy, and he seemed to have a perverse determination, in fact, to go in all directions except the one in which he was being guided.

At the head of the stairs, Quincy and Willie rested a few seconds, catching breath for the descent, and then they started down, Quincy still ahead and bearing the brunt of the weight as it naturally took on a momentum of its own in his direction. Willie was aware that Quincy had arranged this deliberately out of consideration for her, and she was sorry that she had complained about having to load the bags and the spade. They were about half way downstairs and going along very well, in spite of Howard’s perverseness, when a bell began to ring suddenly, which was rather disconcerting, to say the least, and they stopped and put Howard down and listened, and it turned out to be, as they had both feared, the bell at the front door.

“Well,” Willie said, “if this isn’t the worst kind of imposition. All day long no one has come at all, not a single person, and now all of a sudden here is someone at the door just when he couldn’t be less welcome.”

“Who do you suppose it is?” Quincy said.

“I haven’t the least idea. Do you think I should go down and find out?”

“Perhaps you should. We can’t afford to take the chance that it may be someone who will hang about outside if there’s no answer.”

Willie walked around Howard and Quincy and down the stairs and the hall to the door, which she opened a crack to see and talk through. Quincy listened intently, but could not hear what Willie was saying, or what was said to her, but he hoped that it was judicious on Willie’s part, whatever it was, and it must have been, he was relieved to note, for she closed the door shortly and came back to the foot of the stairs.

“It was only a man asking where the Bowsers live,” she said. “Fortunately, it’s in the next block, and he’s gone down there. I was afraid for a moment that it might be Mother Hogan come to see if Howard had returned.”

“It’s high time, in my opinion, that Howard was leaving. Turn off the lights in the hall and the living room, Cousin. We’ll have to do the best we can in the dark.”

Willie turned off the lights and came back and took up her end of Howard, Quincy doing the same with his end, and they got the rest of the way downstairs and back through the hall and into the kitchen to the door leading directly into the garage. The darkness added to their difficulties, but they arrived without accidents, except that Quincy backed into the corner of a cabinet, and cursed a little, and Howard was bumped sharply against the jamb of the kitchen-garage door. Howard did not curse or care, of course, and a minute later he was deposited safely in the wagon beside the bags and the spade. Quincy went back upstairs for the typewriter and was down again in another minute.

“Now we must back the wagon out and get started,” he said. “You go outside through the small door, Cousin, and be certain that no one is passing when I open the big one. It would spoil things if the Buick were seen by someone who might remember it.”

Willie followed directions, knocking on the big door from outside to indicate that the coast was clear, and Quincy quickly opened the door and backed out the wagon and closed the door again. When he resumed his seat behind the wheel, Willie was beside him. It did not matter if the wagon was seen, since it was not supposed to be gone, and so Quincy turned on the lights and backed out of the drive in a normal way. Driving down Ouichita Road in the direction away from town, he was shortly on a gravel road, and shortly thereafter on a dirt road that would take them along the back limit of his maternal uncle’s farm. The road was deserted and the night was dark and all aspects of the venture, he thought, were favorable. The bumping of Howard among the bags and the spade made a comfortable kind of sound in his ears.

“You’ll have to admit,” he said, “that everything has gone admirably under my direction.”

“I do admit it,” Willie said, “and I only wish I could think of an adequate way to express my appreciation.”

“Well,” he said, “perhaps later we can think of something.”

They came to a turn-off and stopped after turning. Quincy got out and opened a section of barbed-wire fence that served as a gate. Willie drove through the opening onto a narrow track, no more than a trace of wheels between a cornfield and a high hedge of Osage orange. After resuming his place behind the wheel, Quincy drove down along the hedge slowly to the end, where it was necessary to repeat the process of opening a section of fence, and from there quite a long way across an open pasture to a stand of timber along a creek. He stopped the wagon in the dense darkness beside the trees.

“The spot I have in mind,” he said, “is just across the creek, and it will be necessary to walk from here. The water isn’t very deep in this place, but the bank on the other side is quite steep.”

“Couldn’t we do it on this side just as well?”

“The other side is better for our purpose. For one thing, it is less likely that someone will come poking about over there before the last signs of old Howard’s last abode have been obliterated by nature. For another, the bank is higher and excludes the chance of a disastrous wash in case the creek rises. Lastly, the ground is softer and spades easier. Come along, Cousin. Remember that I’m working on a tight schedule.”

He removed the flashlight from the glove compartment and shoved it into a side pocket of his jacket. Moving around to the rear of the wagon, he opened the tailgate and pulled Howard out onto the ground. He had the impression that old Howard had limbered up a little on the ride out.

“First things first,” he said. “I’ll have to return for the bags and the portable and the spade. Positions as before, Cousin. Watch your step in crossing the creek. The water will be hardly above your knees, but the rocks underfoot are slippery.”

His voice and entire attitude were a little too cheerful to suit Willie, who was becoming rather depressed again, not to say apprehensive, but she supposed that she must concede him the right to take a certain pleasure in the successful execution of his plans. He had already taken Howard under the arms, and so she took up the feet as before, and they moved off in the same order as before, he leading and she following and Howard, naturally, between. The ground was rough and treacherous, but the creek bank was fortunately low on this side, no steep decline to the water, and they got safely down without mishap and into the water and about halfway across before anything unfortunate occurred. Then Willie inadvertently stepped down on the side of a round rock and lost her balance and fell with a splash. Howard, released at the nether end, swung downstream with the current and was only prevented from floating away by the determined resistance of Quincy. Willie got up gasping and soaked, her blouse and Capri pants plastered to her body, and the night air felt suddenly twenty degrees cooler.

“Kindly be a little more careful,” Quincy said. “Can you imagine our position if old Howard had got away from me? It would be absolutely impossible to find him in the water in the darkness.”

“Well,” Willie said indignantly, “I have never before heard anything so unfair. Here I’ve fallen into the water and gotten soaked and might even have broken a leg or something, and all you can do is be cross and critical. I’m doing my very best, Quincy, and that’s all that can be expected of me.”

“Oh, well, never mind. No harm has been done. At the worst you’ve only wet your pants.”

“Please don’t be vulgar, Quincy. I’m hardly in the humor for it.”

“Excuse me. I’m only trying to keep your spirits up. I’d appreciate it, Cousin, if you’d resume your position. Old Howard’s pulling like the devil to get away, and I’m becoming slightly tired.”

Willie found Howard’s feet beneath the water and took them up again, and the crossing was completed. The bank on the other side, however, was a problem. It was about six feet high and very steep, almost vertical, and it was plainly impossible to walk right up it, let alone with Howard between. They leaned Howard against the bank in a semi-upright position while Quincy considered the matter.

“I’ll have to haul him up from above,” he said. “Hold him in position until I can clamber up, and be certain that you don’t let him fall forward into the water and get away.”

“Don’t worry, Quincy. I’m perfectly capable of holding Howard until you’re ready.”

She proved it by doing it, and Howard was hauled up safely by Quincy. Willie clambered up afterward, and it was from there only a hundred feet or so downstream to the spot Quincy had chosen. Willie was forced to concede that it seemed a very likely spot. It was among a cluster of bramble bushes where someone would go infrequently, hardly ever, and the chances of Howard’s being discovered were satisfactorily negligible. After resting a minute or two, Quincy prepared to return to the wagon.

“You had better stay here with Howard,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the things.”

“Perhaps I’d better go with you. You’ll surely need help carrying them.”

“No. After all, we must now do old Howard the courtesy of keeping him company until he is properly disposed of. I’ll have to make two trips across the creek. You can come down to the crossing on this side and help from there.”

“Well, please hurry, if you will. I don’t feel inclined to stay here with Howard indefinitely.”

She was feeling rather uneasy, as a matter of fact. The instant Quincy was gone, the night was filled with a thousand sounds that had not been there before, and the worst of the sounds was the crying of an owl somewhere among the trees, and she had a notion that the owl was watching her and taking Howard’s part against her, and she wished the owl would stop crying and fly away, but it did neither, and there was no way to make it. After a bit, she walked down the bank and found the spade and two bags, Quincy obviously having gone back for the rest, and she carried the bags and the spade back to the cluster of bramble bushes, and pretty soon Quincy came along with another bag and the portable. The owl kept crying, but Quincy didn’t seem to hear it, or if he did, didn’t mind.

“I’ll require a little light now,” Quincy said. “Here is the flashlight. Keep it pointed at the ground and shielded as much as possible above. It’s almost certain that no one will come around to see it, but it’s just as well to be cautious.”

She sat down beside Howard and held the light, and Quincy got to work with the spade. He seemed to be quite strong for a little guy who was generally allergic to physical exercise, and he worked along steadily with infrequent brief breaks for rest. Once, as a kind of token courtesy and to show her willingness to do her part, Willie offered to dig a little in his place, but he declined, as she expected, and it was pleasantly surprising, all in all, how quickly the time began to pass and how soon an adequate hole was dug. It would have been dug even sooner if it hadn’t been necessary to allow space for the bags and the portable that must also go in. Willie became so intrigued by Quincy’s demonstration of unsuspected physical effectiveness that she actually forgot to listen to the owl, and when she finally remembered to listen again, the owl was gone, or at least silent.

“Well,” said Quincy, climbing up and out, “it’s now time to put old Howard in.”

“Yes,” said Willie, “I guess it is.”

After he was in, Willie thought that it would only be proper to say something appropriate, and she tried to think of something, but she couldn’t think of anything original and couldn’t remember anything prescribed for such occasions. Then Quincy, who was clever and could always be relied upon, put in the bags and the portable and said, “Well, so long, old Howard. Drop us a line from Dallas,” and this seemed enough to be said, and nothing remained but to cover up and spread some twigs and leaves around.

They went back along the bank and across the creek, Quincy stopping to wash the spade in the water, and then, in the wagon, back across the pasture and between the Osage orange and the corn to the road.

“As I expected,” Quincy said, “it went well.”