Nothing More Than Murder

"I've never thought about it that way," I said. "You hear the expression used so often, putting yourself in the other fellow's place-"

"It's bad business all the way around, Joe. If you put yourself in the other man's place often enough you're very likely to get stuck there. Some of your worst criminals began their careers as officers of the law. There's probably a higher incidence of insanity among psychiatrists than any other group. I remember a case I worked on several years ago-"

He paused and gave me a glance as much as to ask if he was boring me. I told him to go on. He was an easy guy to listen to, and I didn't want to go home.

"It was a murder, Joe. Just about the messiest job I've ever seen. A woman was literally clawed, clawed and chewed to death. Obviously, the murderer was a degenerate or a lunatic; we needed an expert on morbid psychology to get to the bottom of the crime. One of the best men in the country lived right there in the neighborhood, so, with the permission of the authorities, we called him in.

"Well, the police threw out the well-known dragnet, pulled in all the twist-brains they could lay hands on, and this guy went to work. And, Joe, by God, it was enough to make your flesh crawl to watch him. He'd sit there in a cell with some bird that you and I wouldn't touch with a ten-foot pole-the sort of bird that does things a lot of newspapers won't print-and he'd pal right up to him. He'd talk to him like a long lost brother. He'd find out what special sort of craziness this guy went in for, and for the time being he'd be the same way. If you closed your eyes and listened, you wouldn't know which one was doing the talking. And, yet, he was one of the most likable guys I've ever known. He talked my language, too. We seemed to click.

"We got to where we saw quite a bit of each other outside the line of business. He'd drop in on me a night or two a week, or I'd run in on him. We'd have a few drinks and a bite to eat, and bat the breeze around. And, gradually, without knowing I was doing it, I began to get his guard down. He started tipping his hand."

Appleton shook his head, started fumbling for another cigarette. I gave him one, and held a match.

"For God's sake," I said. "Let's hear the rest of it."

"He had a big German shepherd, Joe; a big brute that was a hell of a lot more wolf than it was dog. And I began to notice-he and that dog were a lot alike. Sometimes he'd snap at a sandwich or a piece of food just like the dog. Sometimes there'd be a trace of growl in his voice, or he'd scratch the back of his head with that stiff, rapid stroke a dog uses. Sometimes they even looked alike.

"The payoff came one night when he started to play with the dog. It started off as a romp, but before it was over they were down on the floor together, snapping and slashing and clawing, yeah, and barking. Both of 'em. And when I got the cops in they turned on us- the two dogs. Wolves. I don't need to tell you who our murderer was."

I shivered. He gave a short laugh.

"Not nice, huh, Joe?"

"I think I'm coming down with a cold," I said. "I've been having chills all evening."

"Well, I'll shove off and let you go. How about dinner some night this week?"

"Sure," I said. "But don't rush off. Tell me some more about this guy."

"What about him?"

"Well, why did he choose to be a dog? It doesn't seem to make sense. I can understand how a guy who worked with crooks all the time might turn out to be a crook, but-"

"He was a man of innate and extraordinarily fine sensibilities, Joe. And a man has to identify himself with something. He has to be able to picture himself as being some certain thing. If he can't, he's helpless. There's no motivation, no guide for his acting and thinking."

"Yeah," I said. "That's right, isn't it?"

"This man couldn't identify himself with the human race. He appeared to be able to do it with extreme ease, but actually he was losing a little of his character and personality with every contact. In the end, there wasn't anything left; nothing but the idea that humanity was pretty rotten. So-"

"I see," I said.

I shivered again, and he reached for the door.

"You ought to be in bed, Joe. I've got to be going, anyway. I've got another case to handle. Going to be on the jump for the next few days."

"Where's the fire this time?"

He shook his head. "It's not in my line, but as long as I'm here I'm taking a crack at it. It's a disappearance case. Some dame is supposed to have come out here from the city a few days ago, and she hasn't been heard of since."

"The hell!" I said. "What do you know about that?" And he gave me a funny look.

"You don't need to be polite, Joe; I'm not interested in it, either. We get a hundred like it every year."

"But-but where could she disappear to in a town this size?"

"She couldn't; I'll turn her up in a few days. She's a houseworker; came out here to take a job. That narrows it down a lot. There aren't many people here who hire household help."

"No," I said. "Uh-how did you know she disappeared, anyway? Who reported it?"

"Her former landlady. She didn't have any relatives, it seems, and she owed this landlady a hell of a big bill. So, as a gesture of good faith, she switched a little paid-up policy she had-actually it would just about take care of her burial expenses when she died-to her landlady. That is, she named her as beneficiary until such time as she could clear up her debt. Well, she left the city in a hurry and was supposed to send for her baggage, and she hasn't done it. Naturally, the landlady is sure-she hopes-that something has happened to her, and she comes down on us."

"Y-Y-You're pretty sure y-you can f-f-find-"

"How can I help it? Say, you have got a chill, haven't you?"

My teeth were clattering too hard to answer. I nodded, and he said good night and got out. Up on the curb he hollered at me not to forget our dinner date; and I nodded again.

I backed the car out into the street, made a U-turn, and headed for home. As I started to angle around the square, I glanced into the rearview mirror. He was still standing where I had left him. Up on the curb, with his hat thrust back and his hands on his hips.

Watching me.

21

I must have been off my nut by the time I got home. I had to be to do what I did. I ran up the steps almost before the car had stopped rolling. I pushed the door open, half fell inside, and stood leaning against it.

"Elizabeth," I panted. "Elizabeth-"

And, of course, it wasn't Elizabeth. But even when I realized that, I couldn't come to my senses. It only made me worse.

I started to say that I was sorry, that Elizabeth's name had just slipped out; but I felt so ugly and scared, I guess, that it acted on her. And when it did she wasn't something I cared about hurting. She got me in the same way Elizabeth had used to.

It was all I could do to keep from slugging her.

"You-you muddle-headed bitch. Goddam-damn you! Didn't know where she was going, huh? Everything was all right, huh? Now they got us they got us they got us! They-"

I don't know what I said, the words were coming so fast and so mixed up, but somehow Carol got the sense of it.

"She didn't, Joe! She didn't know. I swear that she didn't!"

"Huh? How-"

"She was too anxious for the job to ask questions, and I slid over it. I told her I was hiring her for a friend. I told her I'd give her the exact address after we got here. I slid over it that way. She didn't know a thing until we got on the bus!"

"She called from somewhere! Or maybe she wrote! Her landlady-"

"I tell you, she didn't, Joe! She did not! I was with her every minute."

"But Appleton-"

"Don't you see, Joe? It's someone else. It's another woman. It must be."

"Oh," I said. "Oh-"

My knees were about to give way under me. I wobbled over to the lounge and sat down.

"You're sure about everything, Carol? Elizabeth got away all right?"

"Yes."

"And the woman? No one saw you, heard you, when-"

"No," said Carol. "We were all alone. We-she knew what was coming, right at the last, but there wasn't anything she could do. No one would hear her. I was stronger than she was. She didn't even try to fight. She-"

"Carol," I said. "For God's sake. You don't need to draw me a picture."

"I was just trying to tell you, Joe. Everything's all right. There's nothing to be afraid of."

The funny, intent look went out of her eyes. She turned them in toward the bridge of her nose and pursed out her lower lip. And then she blew upward at the little wisp of hair that had fallen over her forehead.

That got me, just like it always had. All at once we were right back where we'd been that Sunday afternoon when she'd come into my room in her made-over clothes, and I'd felt so damned sorry for her I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Come here, Carol," I said; and she came there, over to the lounge.

I gave her a grin and squeezed her hand, and after a minute she slid close to me.

"I'm sorry," I said. "That Appleton guy got me rattled. You know how you'd feel if you had a piece of news like that thrown at you."

"Yes," she said. "I'd know."

"I meant to tell you I was going into the city but I didn't have a chance. I had to leave in a hurry."

"Did you?"

"Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Business. I could tell you, but you wouldn't understand."

"Oh."

"All right, 'oh,' then," I said. "It's the truth. God, Carol, I'm out in front in this deal! I can't stop and explain every time I turn around. I've got to do what I think's best."

"I know."

"Well, then?"

She hesitated, then turned and looked squarely at me. Or as squarely as she could with those eyes of hers.

"Will you answer me one question, Joe?"

"Certainly, I will."

"And tell the truth? Wait a minute, Joe! I didn't mean to insult you. But I've just got to know."

"All right, shoot," I said.

"Is there something wrong at the show?"

I shook my head. I couldn't find my voice right then.

"You're not-that's the truth, Joe?"

"Of course, it's the truth. What are you driving at? What could be wrong?"

"I don't know," she said. "But there is something wrong. There's something wrong somewhere, and you're afraid to tell me about it. That's what-wwhat I c-can't stand. Your being afraid of me."

"Aw, hell," I said, trying to put my arm around her. "Why would I be afraid of you?"

"It's no good asking each other questions, Joe." She brushed at her eyes. "What we need is answers. We're in this together, but we're pulling different ways. You don't trust me."

"It don't-doesn't-look like you trusted me a hell of a lot, either."

"I love you, Joe. Sometimes you love a person so much you can't trust them. It's for their own good that you don't."

"Well," I said. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I-I guess there isn't much to say."

I jumped to my feet and headed for the kitchen. And I didn't stop or look around when she called me. Things had been coming at me too fast; I didn't have anything left to fight with. I had to do something quick or I knew I'd be yelling the truth at her. You're goddam right I'm afraid! You 'd think I pulled you into this to get Elizabeth and me out of a hole! You think I'd sell anyone out! You-

I got the cupboard door open and reached down the whisky bottle. I raised it, turning around, and she was standing in the doorway watching me.

The whisky never reached my mouth. I couldn't get it that high. It trickled out on my shirt front, and then the bottle dropped from my hand to the floor. And I followed it.

Instantly she was at my side, lifting me. And sick and dizzy as I was, the one thought that filled my mind was how much strength she had. I weigh around two hundred, but she hoisted me up and got me over to the table as easily as if I'd been a child.

"Joe, darling-What do you want me to do, Joe?"

"I'm sick." I kept repeating it. "I'm sick, Carol."

"Do you want me to get a doctor?"

"No!" No, I didn't want a doctor. He might give me something to knock me out, and I'd start raving.

"I'm just awfully tired and weak," I said. "Running around too much. Not eating. Got a chill-"

She put a hand to my forehead. "You've got a fever, too."

"I'd better go to bed," I said. "I get in bed and I'll be all right."

"All right, Joe."

She started to lift me again, but I held back. "We can't go on staying here alone, Carol. We'll have to have someone come in."

"Do you want me to call Mr. Chance?"

"Jesus, no! I mean I may be in bed several days. We want someone who can be around all the time. Get Mrs. Reverend Whitcomb. Take the car and go after her. She'll do anything to get a few square meals."

She got up slowly, kind of hanging back. "Couldn't I just call her, Joe?"

"How would she get over here? The Whitcombs don't have a car. Now, go on and go after her before it gets any later."

"But-but I don't drive very well. I don't like to drive after dark."

"You drive good enough. You drove all the way home from Wheat City after dark, didn't you?"

"All right," she said. "I'll go right away."

After she'd gone, I went on sitting at the table for a few minutes, thinking or trying to; something tickling my mind. Something important. But the idea wouldn't come. I was too tired.

I don't know what time it was when she and Mrs. Whitcomb got back. I was already in bed and asleep.

Back in reform school, once, some big-shot lawyer talked to us at chapel, and he made the statement that nature hated a crime. "Nature abhors a crime," was the way he put it.

At the time, it struck me as being just some more of the grapefruit they were always squeezing out to us. It seemed to me that for a guy that had nature against him, he was doing pretty well. But now, twenty-five years later almost, I was beginning to see what he meant.

We'd planned everything perfectly. By all the laws of logic nothing could go wrong. And, yet-well, why say it?

On top of everything else I was afraid I was losing my nut.

I woke up early the next morning and tiptoed into the bathroom. I got a drink of water at the sink, and stood staring out the window. And there was the garage, just as big as day. Yeah, it was there. The old barn with the cupola that had been made over into a garage. I saw it just as I had seen it for ten years. I don't know. Maybe the eye holds images that don't go away, that don't ever really go away. Maybe the average guy is so stuck on himself that everything he sees becomes important, and he won't give it up, not to himself, until he's past seeing and past remembering.

I don't know.

All I know is that I almost let out a yell that they could have heard over in the next county.

I had to put my hand over my mouth to hold it back. I got back into bed, shivering, and finally dozed off again. But it wasn't good sleep. Not sound, I mean. I kept dreaming that Elizabeth was in the room with me. And it was like I was looking back or ahead on something that had happened.

She was climbing up on a chair to get something down from the ceiling-I don't know the hell what- and anyone could see that the chair was made out of straw and wasn't going to hold her up. But she kept climbing up on it and I'd run and catch her, and then she'd throw herself back in my arms and kiss me.

Then, there was a little guy that kept coming to the door and trying to get in. And there wasn't a damned bit of sense in her being afraid of him, because he was so damned little and funny-looking. But anyway he kept coming and I'd go to the door and tell him to get the hell out, and he'd beat it for a minute or two. And then I'd go back over to the bed and pull the covers off of Elizabeth, but instead of doing what I should have done I'd stand there and laugh. Because, dammit, I know it's crazy, but she'd turned into a statue. She had and she hadn't. We had to do it first or she would be, but if we didn't she was. And-

And then it was our wedding anniversary, it seemed like, and she was reminding me how, wherever we were, we'd promised that we'd always get together on our anniversary. And even dreaming, I knew it really was our anniversary, and I kind of remembered that we'd said that, that we'd promised like, I suppose, every couple does when they're first married.

She kneeled down at my side and put her hand on my forehead. She leaned forward and kissed me on the mouth.

And I woke up, and it was Carol.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered.

I blinked my eyes.

"All right," I said.

"Your fever seems to have broken."

"Yeah," I said, "I'm all right. Just weak."

"What would you like for breakfast?"

I told her just a little toast and coffee would do. "Better bring up some whisky, too. I'm chilling."

She was back in ten minutes or so with a tray. I sat up and made out like I was going to eat.

"You'd better run along, Carol. It won't look good for you to spend too much time up here."

"I-there's something I want to say to you, Joe."

"Well?"

"But I've got to know something first. I've got to know the truth. Do-do you really love me?"

"Oh, Jesus Christ!" I slammed down my coffee cup. "If you've got anything to tell me, spit it out! If you haven't, leave me alone for a while. We're not supposed to be together and I'm sick, and I've got a thousand and one things to think about. I'm sorry, but-"

"That's all right, Joe. I'm going."

"I do love you, Carol," I said. "You know that."

But she was already gone.

I took a bite or two from the toast, and put the rest in a bureau drawer under some shirts. I drank the coffee down halfway, and filled up the cup with whisky. After a second cup of the stuff, I felt pretty fair. I could have got up as well as not. But I stayed where I was. I wasn't ready to face people yet. Andy Taylor and Appleton and Happy Chance. Maybe I'd never be, but I sure wasn't now.

Around noon of the third day, right after I'd got through taking a bath, I heard a car coming up the lane from the road. I looked out the window to see who it was, but it was already up and in front of the house by then.

A minute or so later Carol tapped on the door, and I told her to come in.

"There's a man here to see you, Joe. He said to tell you it was Sol."

"Oh," I said. "Tell him to come up."

"Who is he, Joe? Is there-"

"Tell him to come up," I repeated.

She got that hard, stubborn look on her face like she used to get around Elizabeth. But finally she turned and went back downstairs, taking her time about it.

22

Sol Panzer looked more like a jockey than the owner of a ninety-house chain. He was maybe five feet tall, and he might have weighed a hundred and ten with his clothes wet. I guess he had something wrong with his vocal cords, because his voice matched up with the rest of him. It was thin and soft; not much more than a whisper.

If Carol tried to listen, and I figured she would, she wouldn't hear much.

He stood by the door a moment, looking at me out of the big horn-rimmed glasses he wore. Then he moved over to the bed like greased lightning, grabbed my hand and shook it, and dropped into a chair right in front of me.

"Joe," he said, speaking in his fast half-whisper. "I'm sorry to see you sick. I was sorry about Mrs. Wilmot. I hope you got our flowers. This is a nice place you have here."

"Thanks," I said. "Stick around and maybe you can buy it cheap."

"I'm sorry, Joe." He began to slow down. "It's nothing personal."

"That's all right. Have a drink."

"No, no. I never drink during business hours."

"If this is business," I said, "maybe we'd better get down to it."

"Cold turkey?"

"Without the stuffing."

"Well-a dollar and other valuable considerations."

"Remember me?" I said. "I own the place. How many valuable considerations?"

"Say, about five thousand."

I let out a grunt. "Five thousand wouldn't pay for my projectors and sound heads."

"Probably not, Joe."

"Then there's my chairs," I said. "Fifteen hundred of 'em with a factory list of eighteen seventy-five."

"You bought cheap. They'll run you twenty-two fifty, now."

"I've got a thousand yards of six-bucks-a-yard carpeting. I've got four grand in air conditioning. I've got-"

"Joe."

"Oh, all right," I said. "You don't want the stuff."

"I couldn't buy it if I did want it, Joe. I got friends in the theatrical supply line. Close friends, y'know. What would they think if I didn't patronize 'em? They'd be hurt, Joe. You know they would."

"Yeah," I said, "I guess they would."

I'd known how it was going to be. But I couldn't fight, and when a man can't fight the best thing he can do is stall.

"Well, Joe?"

"Well," I said. "Twenty-five grand isn't a bad price for the location. I'll take it."

"I don't speak very loud, Joe. Maybe you didn't hear me say five."

"Twenty."

"Five. But don't be afraid to beg, Joe. My way of refusing is very polite."

I took another drink and lighted a cigarette. I looked down at the floor, pretending to study. Stalling.

"I don't know, Sol," I said. "Doesn't it strike you that this is a pretty hard thing to do to a friend?"

"A friend, Joe?" He looked puzzled. "I hardly know you when I see you."

"Make it an enemy, then," I said. "You're obligated to come into this town. I don't know how much you're already in on the deal, but it must be plenty. You've got to come in, and I'm sitting on the spot you want."

"Yes, Joe?"

"Well, maybe you'd better take it from there."

He nodded and leaned back in his chair. "You got bills outstanding, Joe. You got insurance to pay, you got taxes to pay. You got a little bank loan, maybe two of 'em. Not much. None of it amounts to much-if you're running. But let your house go dark and see how big all them little things are. See how fast people start coming down on you. Then-"

"Oh, hell," I said. "I'm-"

"I'm not through, Joe. I could wait you out two, three months, but I won't have to. I'm going to crack down if you even look like you want to be stubborn. I'm going to get you for that marquee you swindled me on."

"You?" I said.

"Me. I was interested in that company. I still am. I started watching you when you beat me on that deal. I figured you were a man worth watching. I figured I could make a lot more by letting the five grand ride than cracking down on you. Funny, ain't it? If you'd played square with me I never would have started looking into Stoneville. I wouldn't have noticed the kind of business you were building up."

"Hell, Sol," I said, "you shouldn't hold a grudge over that. I didn't know it was your company."

His eyes closed for a second behind the big horn rims. "Joe," he said. Then he shook his head and sighed. "I don't hold any grudge, Joe. I'm just showing you what's going to happen if you try to hold me up. I'll sue you for that marquee; the actual price of it plus interest plus general losses due to having my product unjustly condemned. Do I make myself clear? I'm moving in. I'll either buy your lot or I'll take it."

"But five grand, Sol," I said. "That's no dough at all. You can do better than that. You know damned well you'll give the lot a book value of thirty or forty thousand."

"But it was my idea, Joe." He shrugged. "You can't expect to cash in on my ideas, can you?"

"What'll I do with my equipment? It's no good without a house to put it in."

"So I've heard. You gave your former competitor a hundred and fifty dollars for his stuff, didn't you?" He shrugged again, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. "Don't cry on me, Joe. On you tears don't look good. And don't stall me. That marquee deal ain't the only thing I've got on you. I can pile up stuff to the doors of the Barclay if I take a notion. You got the most remarkable record of chiseling I ever laid eyes on."

"I'm not trying to stall," I said. "I'm just trying to think. It seems like everything has come down on me at once. Being sick, and losing my wife, and now-"

"I know, Joe." His face softened a little. "But I'm not moving in tomorrow. You can run until the end of the season."

"You want an agreement to buy at the end of that time?"

"That's it."

"All right," I said. And I took the biggest, almost the biggest gamble I've ever taken in my life. "Give me your check for five thousand and we'll close the deal." If he'd taken me up on it, I'd have been washed up. But I had a pretty good idea he wouldn't, and he didn't. You see? Why should he have made a special trip out from the city to bully me into selling something he could take?

"If you want it that way, Joe," he said slowly. "But for your own good I'd advise you to hold off. You've got to run until the end of the season. Selling now would ruin your credit."

"It wouldn't help it any," I agreed. "But I supposed-"

"I just wanted to reach an understanding with you. I'm not afraid of your trying to sell to someone else. No one's going to buy a big show property without a lot of investigation. I can muff any deal you try to make."

"I know," I said. "That's the deal, then. Five grand at the end of the season for the lot. I keep everything else.

"Providing you move it."

"That's understood."

He stood up and held out his hand. "We'll let the option slide, then, as long as we understand each other."

"You're the doctor, Sol," I said.

I walked him to the door, closed it, and poured myself another drink. I swallowed it just as I started to laugh, and for a minute or two I thought I was going to strangle. When Carol came in I was staggering around, sputtering and laughing like a hyena with the whooping cough.

She slapped me on the back and got a drink of water down me. Finally I began to get my breath back.

"You're drunk, Joe," she frowned. "You shouldn't get drunk at a time like this."

"Baby," I said. "I was never more sober in my life."

"Who was that man? What did he want?"

"That was Sol Panzer," I said. "Sol is the smartest-" I had to stop for a second, "showman in the business. He wanted to buy the Barclay."

"Oh?" She stiffened a little. "How much will he give you for it?"

"Nothing, baby. Nothing. And do you know why? Because he doesn't want it."

"But you just said-"

I didn't say anything for a minute. I just put my arms around her and squeezed until her breasts flattened against me, until the veins in them swelled and began to throb. Then I said, "Leave it to me, kid. Just a little longer. Leave it to me, and we'll pull out of this town with two hundred grand. Will you do that?"

I felt her nod, slow, unwilling. Eager.

"Yes, Joe. Yes!" she said. And: "Mrs. Whitcomb- she's taking a nap, Joe-"

Once, right at the last, like you will, you know, I looked into her face. Then, I closed my eyes and kept them closed.

23

Hap Chance called during the afternoon. I had Carol tell him I was sleeping. Andy Taylor called, too; and I had her tell him I'd see him that night. She called Appleton for me and made a date for dinner. She was curious, of course, but she didn't ask questions. I'd taken care of that for a while, at least.

I drove down to the hotel about six. Appleton was waiting for me in the lobby. We shook hands and found a table in the dining-room.

"Well, Joe," he said, looking me up and down, "your rest seems to have done you a lot of good."

"I needed one," I said. "I guess I've been going around in a daze ever since the accident. I got to the point where I couldn't go on any longer."

"That's the way it goes," he nodded, glancing at the menu. "By the way, what's this talk about you having a competitor in here?"

The glass of water I was holding almost slipped out of my hands.

"Where did you hear anything like that?"

"Oh, it wasn't anything definite. Just a rumor."

"There's a rumor for every inch of film in show business," I said. "Your statement was that there was talk going around. I want to know where it's coming from."

I could see that he didn't really know anything. There's always gossip in any good spot where one man has control. Someone will start talking about how much the showman must be making, and how there ought to be another show there. And, before you know it, the story gets twisted to where there is another house coming in.

"I've got a hundred-thousand-dollar investment here," I said. "If there's a rumor going around I want to know what there is to it, and who's spreading it."

"It wasn't anything, Joe. Just some wishful thinking, I guess. Let's forget it."

"I can't afford that kind of talk," I said.

For once he was on the defensive. "Let's forget it," he mumbled. "If I hear anything more, I'll put the damper on it."

He didn't have much to say during the meal. As soon as we had finished we went up to his room.

"Well, here we are, Joe," he said, grinning again. "The secret lair of Operator 31."

It was one of the sample rooms that salesmen use. Two of the big sample tables were fixed up for kind of a laboratory. He even had a little weight scale, and a centrifuge like they've got down to the creamery, only smaller. One of the tables was covered with stuff from the fire- -little envelopes of ashes, pieces of wood, wire, and metal.

I looked away. There was a picture of a woman and a little boy on the dresser. The boy was about four, I imagine.

"Is that your boy?" I asked. "He looks a lot like you."

"That's him," he nodded. "Think he looks like me, huh? Not everyone can see the resemblance."

"Why, he's the spit and image," I said. "How old is he, about six?"

"Four. He wasn't quite four when that picture was taken."

"Well, he's certainly big for his age," I said. "I'd have taken him to be six, anyway."

Appleton nodded, his smile a mile wide. "Yes, sir, he's a real boy. You ought to see him out playing ball with me when I'm at home. He's the craziest kid about baseball lever saw, and he can really play, too. I mean, Joe, he's got baseball sense. He-"

He kind of shook himself, and gave me a wink.

"Damn you, Joe!"

"What's the matter?"

"Let it go. What do you know that's new since I saw you last?"

"Nothing much. I don't know whether I told you last time that I'd talked with the county attorney. He's still confident that the fire was an accident."

Appleton wagged his head. "I'm inclined to agree with him, Joe. At any rate I'd probably say the same thing if I were a public servant."

"Now what do you mean by that?" I said.

"It's a public servant's job to serve the public, Joe. The living public."

"I guess that's a dirty crack," I said.

"Not at all. I'm not hinting that Mr. Clay is dishonest. He's in office. Mrs. Wilmot is dead. You're one of the city's most prominent citizens. Why should he go out of his way to prove something which, in all probability, didn't happen?"

"Well," I said, "I'm glad to hear you say that."

"You don't owe me a nickel, Joe."

"I got to thinking while I was sick," I said. "It seems like I must have made a chump of myself the first time I talked to you. Maybe the next time, too, but that time particularly."

"You're referring to what I said about the fire being incendiary?"

"That's it. I don't know why-"

"I'll tell you why. I didn't intend for it to register on you. I thought it was better for it to come over you gradually. Frankly, if you had gone around offering rewards for the murderer and evidence of your own innocence I'd have been exceedingly suspicious of you.

"Now, what am I supposed to say to that?" I said.

"Anything you like, Joe. The bars are down tonight. That's why I had you come up here."

"Okay. What do you think about things?"

"As I've said before, that it was an accident in all likelihood. Of course, you and Mrs. Wilmot didn't get along, but-"

"Who says we didn't?"

"You do. Everything about you says so. Everything I've learned about her says the same thing. But the fact that you were opposites doesn't mean that you would kill her. In fact, I'm confident that you loved her very much."

"Well, thanks," I said.

"It's none of my business, but would you mind telling me something? How did two people like you ever happen to get. married?"

I laughed in spite of myself. It was such a hell of a crude thing to ask that instead of getting sore I felt sorry for him for doing it.

"I'll tell you why," I said, looking straight at him. "Every time she opened her mouth she put her foot in it. She was about to go on the rocks. I got sort of used to helping her out, and finally-well-"

"Mmm," he nodded. "That one, eh?"

"What do you mean?"

"Not a thing, Joe. Just thinking out loud. Mind if I ask another question?"

"Go right ahead."

"Well, this Farmer girl-Mrs. Wilmot strikes me as having been a well-educated, extremely fastidious person. How did she happen to take anyone like la Farmer into her home?"

It was something I'd always wondered about myself, and I didn't need to fake looking puzzled.

"There you got me," I said. "Elizabeth was pretty tight about money, and I thought at first that she might be trying to get a little cheap household help. But she wasn't tight that way, you know. She wouldn't have done something that went against her grain to save dough."

"I see."

"Anyway, we didn't need any help. There was just the two of us and I always ate out most of the time. On top of that, Elizabeth had her own way of doing things and nothing else would suit. It was more trouble showing Carol how to do things than it would have been to do 'em herself."

"Perhaps she just felt sorry for the gal."

"She didn't show it much. If I hadn't-well, if I hadn't prodded her now and then, Carol would have been pretty hard up for spending money and clothes and everything else."

"Oh? Weren't you a little out of practice at that sort of thing-charitable enterprise, I mean?"

"I don't think I like that," I said. "I'm in a tough business. I don't think I've been any tougher than I've had to be."

"Want to call it an evening, Joe?"

"Not unless you do. Go ahead. I can take it."

"Well, I was going to say, if this Farmer girl was a baby doll the thing would be a lot more complicated- or simple. A little thing like murder doesn't stop a woman from getting a man she really wants-particularly if she thinks she's going to get to help him spend a sum like twenty-five thousand. But Farmer has nothing minus in my catalogue. I just can't picture you making a play for her."

"Thanks," I said.

"So the girl is out, and you're out on that angle. Of course, you get your wife's property in addition to the twenty-five grand. But for all practical purposes you already had the property, and you didn't need the money. Not bad enough to kill for it. You have a good income, a good business. You loved your wife. You weren't chasing a dame. If it wasn't for certain events in your early life-"

"So you've found out about that," I said. "That's a hell of a thing to do! Drag up something a man did when he was a kid, and smear him-"

He shook his head. "Keep your shirt on. We're not smearing anyone, and we didn't drag it up. You did. The company doesn't issue policies of this size without some investigation."

"Hell," I said. "I was fourteen years old; I didn't know my tail from straight up. I'd never been away from the orphanage before. I didn't know what a seal on a freight car meant. I just wanted to get out of the snow. Tampering with interstate commerce! Hell, did they think I was going to walk off with a sack of cement? That's all there was in the car."

"It was a bum rap, all right."

"Bum rap?" I laughed. "You're telling me! Seven years of sappings and kickings and doing work that would break a man's back. Seven years, from fourteen until I was twenty-one-'until I learned a proper regard for the property of others'! It's things like that-that-"

I broke off, remembering.

"Go ahead and say it, Joe," said Appleton. "It's things like that that makes criminals."

"Okay," I said, "you're doing the talking."

"Do I look like a criminal?" He leaned back grinning, his hands clasped behind his head.

"What's that got to do with it?"

"I was in, too. Exactly the same number of years that you were."

"The hell!" I said.

"That's right. Borrowed a car for a joy ride, and the cops caught me. My old man wasn't very fond of me, anyhow, so I went right on over the road. No, things like that don't need to mean any more than we let 'em."

"But you said your company-"

"It's a fact they have to consider, certainly. It's tough, but that's the way it is. He sat brushing at his knee, looking down. "I'm sorry, Joe. I know pretty well how you feel. Can't you think of some logical explanation-some explanation that would be acceptable to the company-for the fire?"

"No, I can't."

"The motor was in good condition? There wasn't any possibility of a short?"

"Not a chance. If there had been any I'd have had it repaired."

"Sure. Naturally."

"It isn't the money so much," I said. "I'd just like to get things settled."

"Sure you would." He nodded sympathetically, studying me. "I'll tell you something, Joe, if you'll keep your mouth shut. I've been stringing you along a little. I've recommended payment on this case. I'm just waiting to mail my report."

"Waiting?"

"Orders." He smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "You're running in hard luck, Joe. You remember that missing dame I told you about?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's the rub. I've got to turn her up, and as long as I'm here and it isn't costing them anything extra the company's having me keep your case open. At least they think they are. As far as I'm concerned it's already closed. As soon as I find this woman I'll put a date on the report and shoot it in."

"Well," I said, "that's something." I wished I had been outside so that I could have taken a deep breath. Or let out a yell. Just of pure relief.

I didn't care if I never got the money. I was going to have plenty without it.

We talked until midnight about show business, and the war, and things in general. Finally I figured it was time for me to go.

We shook hands. "Got any leads on the woman yet?" I said.

"Oh, one or two, Joe. I'm expecting a break in the case any minute."

"Well, luck to you," I said.

"And to you, Joe. And, Joe-"

"Yeah?" I said. He'd opened the door and I was standing halfway out in the hall.

"Do yourself a favor. Do a little deep thinking about some of the stuff we've discussed here tonight. It may make you feel bad for a time, but you'll profit by it in the long run. It'll make it a hell of a lot easier for you to get along with yourself."

"You're not telling me much," I said.

"It's something you'll have to see, Joe. Good night, and take it easy."

"I'll do that," I said.

24

The front of the building was dark, but I could see a faint light in the back. I tapped on the window and rattled the doorknob. And in a couple of minutes Andy Taylor came shuffling around from behind the screen that separates his so-called office from his living quarters.

I don't know whether he'd been in bed or not. He still had his clothes on, but I'd always had the idea he slept with them on most of the time.

"Kinda took your time about gettin' here, didn't you?" he said. "Come on in."

I followed him back to the rear of the building, and he put the coal-oil lamp he'd been carrying down on a packing-box. He didn't have any real furniture. Just a cot and some boxes and a little monkey stove. I sat down on the cot.

"So you decided to take me up," he said. "Well, well."

He moved a dirty pie plate and a coffee cup off of one of the boxes and sat down across from me. The light from the lamp made his beard seem redder than usual. He looked like the devil with a hat on.

"Not so fast," I said. "Take you up on what?"

"I don't know, Joe. I don't know."

"I got a burn on my hand," I said, "that's all. Anyone that works around electricity as much as I do is bound to get burned."

"Sure they are."

"Well?" I said.

"You were willing to cancel the lease on the Bower."

"I was willing to do that, anyway. I've been thinking for a long time that I hadn't treated you right on that lease."

"Yeah. I bet you did."

He rubbed his chin, looking straight into the flame from the lamp. For a minute I was afraid that I'd been too independent, that he wasn't going to walk into the trap.

Then he laughed, just with his mouth, and I knew everything was all right.

All he needed was a little steering.

"All right, Joe," he said. "I ain't got a thing on you. Not a thing. Why don't you just get up and walk out of here?"

"Okay," I said. "I will."

I got up slow, brushing at my clothes, and turned toward the door. He watched me, the grin on his wrinkled old face getting wider and wider.

"O' course," he said. "You know I'm going to tell Appleton about that burn."

"What for?" I said. "Why do you want to do that, Andy?"

"What do you care? As long as it don't mean nothing."

I shrugged and took a step toward the door. Then I let my face fall and I sank back down on the cot.

I heaved a sigh. "Okay, Andy. You win."

He nodded, his eyes puzzled. "Thought I would," he said. "Wonder why, though?"

I didn't say anything.

"That motor was in good condition. Elizabeth wouldn't have been foolin' around with it if it wasn't. Not Elizabeth."

"No," I said.

"And we know the fire wasn't set. There's proof positive of that."

"No," I said, "it wasn't set."

"And you were in the city when it happened."

"That's right. I was in the city."

"But there was something wrong, mighty wrong. So wrong that you're willin' to give me-how much are you willin' to give me, Joe?"

"What do you want?"

"Make me an offer."

"Well, I'm short of cash right now. But I could give you part of the money from the insurance."

"Not part, Joe. All."

"But, Jesus," I said. "All right, goddamit. All!" He cackled and shook his head. "Huh-uh, Joe. I wouldn't touch that money. How would it look for me to plunk twenty-five thousand in the bank after a deal like this? Huh-uh! I just wanted to get some idea of what it was worth to you for me to keep quiet. Some basis for tradin'."

"Well, now you've got it."

"Yeah, now I've got it. And you know what I'm goin' to do with it, Joe? Somethin' I've been wanting to do for years."

"Spit it out," I said. "For God's sake, you know I've got to come across. What is it you want?"

"Nothing more than what you owe me, Joe. I had a good thing once, and you ruined it for me. Now I'm handin' you back the ruins and takin' your good thing."

I looked blank. "What the hell are you driving at?"

"I'm makin' you a swap, Joe. I'm going to give you the Bower for the Barclay."

You know, it was a funny thing. It was what I'd expected and wanted. It was what I'd been edging him toward from the start. But now that he'd fallen for it I didn't have to pretend to be sore or surprised.

It burned me up just as much as when I'd heard about Panzer moving in. It's funny; maybe I can't explain. But that show-that show-

No, I can't explain.

I came to my senses after a minute, but I kept on cursing and arguing awhile to make it look good.

"That's not reasonable, Andy," I said. "The Barclay's a first-class house. The Bower's just a rat trap."

"It wasn't always a rat trap. Maybe you can build it back up again."

"Like hell. I see myself building the Bower up with the Barclay as competition."

"Oh, I ain't no hog, Joe. I won't shut you out. Prob'ly wouldn't know how even if I wanted to."

"Why not do this, Andy," I said. "We'll be partners. I'll run the business, and we'll-"

He let out another cackle.

"Oh, no, we won't, Joe! I've had a little experience running things on shares with you. The first thing I knowed I'd be out in the cold."

"But how's it going to look," I said, "to make a trade like that? I ain't got any reputation for being crazy. People will know there's something screwy about the deal."

"Now, you're smarter'n that, Joe." He shook his head. "They won't know a thing more'n we tell 'em- and I reckon neither you or I is going to talk. We'll make it a trade, plus other valuable considerations. Just like ninety-nine per cent of all real estate deals is made."

"But Appleton-"

"Appleton'll be gone from here when I take over. Like I said, Joe, I ain't operatin' no kind of business with you. You go ahead and operate the Barclay until the end of the season. I'll take it then."

"Andy, can't we-"

"Yes or no, Joe?"

"Oh, hell," I said. "Yes!"

He went up to the front and brought back some legal forms and his rickety old typewriter, and we finished the business then and there. We drew up a contract agreement to a transfer of deeds at the end of the season, and he gave me a check for a dollar and I gave him one, each carrying a notation as to what it was for.

That made the deal airtight, even without witnesses. There was no way either of us could back out.

I offered to shake hands as I was leaving, but he didn't seem to notice. I let it pass. He'd feel a lot less like shaking hands when the end of the season came.

It was about one in the morning, now. I debated going home and decided against it. It would save arguing and explaining, and, anyway, there wasn't much time for sleep. I wanted to be in the city when the business offices opened in the morning.

I went over to the show, got the clock out of the projection booth, and set the alarm for two hours away. I sat down in one of the loges, put the clock under the seat, and leaned back. The next thing I knew I was back as far as my memory went.

With my mother, or the woman I guess was my mother. I was living it all over again.

The big hand of the clock was pointing to twelve and the little one to six, and she was coming up the stairs, slow-slowly-like she always came; like she wasn't sure where the top was. Then a key scratched against the lock, and finally it turned, and the door opened. And she tottered over to the bed and lay down and began to snore.

She'd brought something in a sack with her, and she was half lying on it, and I had to squeeze and tug to get it. It was a piece of jelly roll and a hamburger, all squashed together, and I hogged it down. After that I felt through her pockets until I found the crisp green pieces of paper she always brought me; and I hid them in the bureau drawer with the others.

Then it was morning, and she was gone again. I filled my tin cup with cornflakes and canned milk, and ate it. And I played with the green pieces of paper and looked out the window; and I ate a little more of the cornflakes and milk.

The big hand of the clock pointed to twelve and the little one to six. It pointed to them, and passed them. I laughed about it, holding my hand over my mouth so no one would hear me.

I was still laughing when I went to sleep.

She was gone in the morning, but she was always gone in the morning. I ate some of the cornflakes and milk, and played with the green pieces of paper and looked out the window. And the big hand of the clock pointed to twelve and the little one to six, and -and-

It was like a dream inside of a dream. I was chewing the wrapper inside the cornflakes box, and the tip of my tongue was cut where I'd tried to stick it through the little hole in the milk can, and the water pitcher was red from my licking. I wasn't looking out the window any more. I was on the bed. I had been on the bed for a very long time, and the green pieces of paper were scattered all around me.

Then, and then, it was another room, and a big fat woman with crossed eyes, was holding me in her arms and rocking me.

"Mommy? Sure, now, an' we'll get you a whole raft of 'em! I'll be your mommy meself."

"My money! I got to have my money!"

"An 'am 't I the one to know it, now? Bring his bundle in, Mike- That mess of whisky labels…"

The alarm clock went off, and I woke up. I went into the men's lavatory and washed and headed for the city.

25

Sol Panzer didn't make nearly as much fuss as you might have thought he would. He was on the spot and we both knew it, and he wasn't the kind to cry.

I was in his office at nine. By eleven, it was all over and I was on my way home.

I got into Stoneville about dusk, stopped at the show, and ran up to the booth. Hap wasn't there. Jimmie Nedry was running the machines.

"How's it going, Jimmie?" I said. "Giving Mr. Chance a relief?"

"I guess so," he said, not looking at me.

"How soon will he be back, do you know?"

"He ain't coming back," Jimmie said. "He's taking the night off."

"Oh," I said. "Well, I appreciate your working for him, Jimmie."

"Don't mention it."

He got kind of red in the face and moved over between the projectors. I could understand his being embarrassed. Unless he was a lot dumber than I thought he was, he probably knew that I knew what he'd been up to.

I told him good night, just like we were the best pals in the world, and drove over to Hap's hotel. He wasn't there, either. I went on home.

There was a big new black coupй standing in the yard. Hap's, of course. I was plenty glad I'd swung that deal with Panzer. Hap had finished waiting.

He was flopped down on the living-room lounge, a glass and a bottle of whisky at his side; and he had his shoes up on one of Elizabeth's crocheted pillows. The ash tray was full and running over. There was a big circle of ashes and butts on the carpet.

I looked at the mess, and then looked at him. He sat up slowly, grinning.

"Well, laddie," he said. "I get the impression that you've pulled a plum from the pudding-or, shall we say, a phoenix from the fire? Have a drink and tell me about it."

I forced a smile. "Sure, Hap. Where's Carol?"

"In her chambers, I believe. She doesn't seem to be frightfully keen for my company."

"I wonder why?" I said.

I went into the kitchen and brought back a glass and an old newspaper. I spread the paper under the ash tray and set the bottle on it after I'd poured our drinks.

"Clever," Hap nodded. "Too bad you're not married. But give me the news, laddie, I'm all ears."

"You want it right from the beginning?"

"Oh, absolutely."

"Well, right from the start," I said, "I heard that Sol wanted my lot. As soon as I learned that he was moving in, I heard that he was going to take me over. At the exchanges. From you. Everywhere I went. Then, yesterday, just to clinch matters, he drove out here to see me and offered five grand for the lot. He told me he'd give me five to clear out at the end of the season, or I could be stubborn and he'd run me out."

I paused to sip my drink. Hap began to frown.

"He can do it, laddie. Little Sol can take your shirt and charge you interest for wearing it."

"Sure he could."

"So this is the old build-up, eh? The easy letdown. All you've got is a measly five grand."

"Nothing like it," I said. "I didn't sell. Sol doesn't want my lot."

"You said he offered you five yards for it?"

"That's right."

"But he doesn't want it?"

"Of course, he doesn't."

Chance leaned back on the lounge again. He tapped his forehead. "Feeble, laddie. Humor me."

"What would Panzer want with my lot?"

"What would he want with it? Well, fantastic as the idea seems I suppose he'd erect a house on it. There's nothing like the site of an old show for a new one. People are used to the location, and-"

"And," I said, "it's one hundred and three feet from the sidewalk to the alley. No matter how you work it, you can't get much more than a ninety-foot shot from the projection booth to the screen."

Hap blinked. "Lord lummie!" he whispered. "Comes the dawn- But wait a minute! Maybe he intends to pitch his floor in reverse and put the projectors below the screen."

"That still wouldn't give him enough room. Not for a million bucks' worth of house. A million that's got to look like two million."

"But, laddie"-Hap waved his hands-"it's fantastic!"

"Call it anything you want, that's the way it is. There's width and to spare, but not depth. You see how it was, Hap? Sol was using the old magician's trick of misdirection. When I was told that he wanted my lot, over and over, I and everyone else assumed that he did. It never occurred to me to question the fact. Or if I had any idea that it was a little screwy, I brushed it aside. Sol knew what he was doing. He had to know.

"But he got a little too anxious. Too anxious in one way and not enough in another. When he thought that I was convinced, when he believed I was ready to take the five grand, he agreed to let the deal hang fire. I knew, then, that he didn't want my lot. He was misdirecting me. He was doing it because he didn't have the lot sewed up that he did want."

"Careless. I can't believe it of Sol."

"Careless, nothing. Where would he be most likely to tip his hand that he was coming into Stoneville? Why, when he bought his lot. So he was saving that until the last, until he was ready to jump."

"I still say it was careless. Suppose someone jumped in ahead of him-like, I gather, you've done?"

"No one could. What he wanted was the Bower lot, and I had the place leased. I was playing shutout with it. As soon as I went broke, of course, I'd give up my lease and Sol could buy."

Hap shook his head. "Marvelous, laddie. Positively brilliant. And that's the only place in town that Sol could move in on?"

"The only one. That's the only block without an alley; the lots run straight on through. The Bower lot is kind of bottle-shaped. It squares off and spreads out after a few feet."

"And there's no other lot in that block?"

"Two-but the bank and the hotel are sitting on them."

"Terrific! One more question, old bean. How did you happen to acquire this juicy bit of real estate?"

"You know, Hap. I traded something for it that's going to be worthless."

"Uh-hah, your show. That's what I supposed. But there's one little point I'm not quite clear on. Our friend Taylor doesn't know that your house is going to be worthless. He regards it as a little gold mine. Why wasn't he suspicious when you swapped it for his prize white elephant?"

I'd stepped into one again; he knew now that I was walking a pretty ragged rope.

He laughed softly.

"This is much better than I thought, laddie-or worse. Y'know, I think I'll raise my sights on you. I really think I shall."

"What's the Taylor deal got to do with you?" I said. "You don't know anything, Hap."

"Haven't I said so all along? I know enough to sound the alarm. The firemen, speaking metaphorically, will do the rest." He tapped a yawn back with his hand. "Odd how this subject of fires keeps cropping up, isn't it?"

"What do you want?"

"Well, what kind of holdup are you pulling on little Solly? Honor bright, now. I'd be very hurt to catch you in a falsehood."

"I've got a check for fifty grand in my pocket."

"Uh-hah. A very neat evasion. Perhaps I'd better ask Sol about it and explain my interest in the matter."

"I get a hundred and fifty more," I said, "when he moves in."

"You see?" Hap shrugged. "You can tell the truth when you have to." He sat up and reached for the whisky bottle. "Shall we drink on it-partner?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Partner?"

"Partner," I said.

He poured us a drink and we touched glasses; and I couldn't help thinking how nice it would be to drop a little arsenic in his. Then, I saw a shadow in the hall and I knew Carol was listening, and I thought-Well, never mind. Sometimes you get an idea in your head, and it's pretty hard to get it out.

Hap swished the liquor around in his glass, studying me. "Y'know," he said, "you're really a very lucky man, Joe."

"Sure," I said. "Sure, I am."

"Oh, but you are. If I hadn't become interested in the success of your little plan-which necessarily involves your own safety-I probably would have stood aside and let Fate take her course with you. A very unpleasant course."

"Now what?" I said. "What are you trying to pull now?"

"Take yourself back to the morn of the tragedy, old man. You stop by the show and visit the projection booth, and, lo and behold, you discover that your supply of photoelectric cells is exhausted. It comes as a complete surprise to you. You hadn't planned on going to the city, but now you must. Ergo, you provide yourself with an alibi for being out of town."

"Well?"

"But you had your suitcase in your car. Jimmie Nedry saw it when he passed by on his way to work. So you must have planned on going to the city before you ever noticed the alleged absence of those cells."

"So what?" I said. "Maybe I was-"

"-taking some clothes to the cleaners? Not good enough, laddie. That could be checked on. And that isn't the clincher, at any rate. It wasn't the first time you'd hopped Jimmie about missing equipment; and he'd taken certain precautions. He's ready to swear that the cells you supposedly bought in town bore the same serial numbers as those that were missing from the show. In other words, old chap, your alibi is a phony."

"He-he told you all this?"

"Mmm. Got quite fond of me, did Nedry. And in the morning, when Blair swings his transfer, he's going to tell him."

He grinned at me over his glass, and I began to see red. What the hell! This was my deal. I'd taken the risk and done all the thinking, and here was another guy with his hand out!

"Let the little bastard talk," I said. "Let him go to hell. He's lying! He got the numbers of those cells wrong. He-"

"Huh-ah. But even if he had it wouldn't make any difference. You still couldn't afford to have him tell that story."

"He can tell anything he pleases! By God, I'm-"

Hap's hand shot out. He caught his fingers in my collar and jerked and twisted.

For a minute I thought my neck was broken.

"That's how a rope feels, laddie. Just a little like that. But don't fret. If you crumb this deal, I'll settle with you myself."

My throat felt like I'd swallowed a cantaloupe. "How-h-how much do you think-"

"Nothing. Not a red."

"Nothing?"

"No money. It wouldn't do any good. Your projectionist has one of the most alarming cases of honesty I've ever seen. He's even conscience-stricken at having used his information to pry a better job out of Blair."

"But he hasn't told him yet?"

"He hasn't. And he won't."

"I see," I said. And he nodded and looked at his wrist watch.

"Well, I really must be shoving along. I told them at the hotel that I'd be checking out tonight. Told several people, in fact. Must be getting back to the city."

"I hate to see you leave," I said.

"It's trying, isn't it? But the best of friends, you know, and all that rot- Oh yes-"

"Yeah?"

"It's terribly lonely when friend Nedry gets off work. Been thinking it might be awfully awkward for you if he should be slugged by footpads or some such thing. Perhaps you'd best be at home here around eleven-thirty. Miss Farmer can alibi for you."

"Okay, Hap," I said.

"On second thought, I incline to the belief that some doubt might be cast on the Farmer veracity. Call your telephone operator at eleven-thirty. Ask her the time. They still give it here, don't they?"

"Yes."

"Cheerio, then."

"Cheer-so long," I said.

26

There was a chocolate cake in the refrigerator and part of a baked ham. But I passed them up and opened a can of soup. I wasn't particularly hungry, and I'd been eating too much recently. Just this morning I'd noticed that I was getting a little paunchy.

I heard Carol come through the door, and I could feel her standing behind me. I went on eating and pretty soon she walked around into my line of vision. And it was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

She had a new kind of hairdo, and a plain black dress, and she was trying to stick her nose in the air and hold her chin down at the same time. Sure, Elizabeth. Or Carol's idea of Elizabeth.

I ducked my head over my soup.

"You look mighty pretty, Carol," I said, as soon as I could say anything.

"Do you like me better this way?"

I wasn't sure of the answer to that one. "You always look good to me. How about some soup?"

"I've already ate-eaten."

"Coffee?"

"No. You go ahead."

I went ahead, taking my time about it, doing some thinking. This was the second or third time she'd listened in on my conversations. She was nervous and scared, of course, but, hell, I was a little uneasy myself, and I didn't pop out at her every time she opened a door.

I wondered if it was always going to be like this. I wondered if I could never go any place or do anything without having her breathing down my neck.

Without worrying about her getting worried.

I shoved my plate back and lighted a cigarette. "I guess you know," I said, "that there's been some trouble."

She nodded. "Yes. I know now."

"I'm glad you heard," I said. "I intended to tell you as soon as I could see my way out. Didn't want to worry you unless I had to."

"You-you weren't afraid to tell me, Joe?"

"Now, why do you say a thing like that?"

"I-I couldn't stand it if you were afraid of me, Joe! I know how you feel-how you got to feel. I'm different, now! When you kill someone it changes you. But-"

"I was afraid," I said, "but not that way. You'd stuck your neck out. It looked like it might not get you anything. You might have thought that we-I-had known it wouldn't get you anything. That I'd put you on a spot, and was going to walk off and leave you."

"And try to go to Elizabeth?" she snapped.

"You see?" I said. "Now get that idea out of your head, Carol. I had Elizabeth and I didn't want her. She had me, and she didn't want me. I figure she brought you here with the idea that I'd fall for you."

"Oh, no, she didn't!"

"She had some reason for doing it, and it sure wasn't charity."

"She wanted me around to make herself look good! I'm a woman myself and I know. That's why I hated her so much! Don't you suppose if she'd wanted to get rid of you she'd have got someone that didn't look like-like-"

"Carol," I said, and I got up and put my arm around her and gave her a hug.

The dame was nuts if she thought that about Elizabeth. Elizabeth didn't need anyone around to make her look good.

"Well, it's the truth," Carol said.

"No, it's not," I said, leading her into the living-room. "And you're getting yourself all upset over nothing. All that matters is that we'll be in the clear after tonight, and we'll have plenty of money. Let's not spoil it."

"Promise you won't try to see her, Joe."

"Of course, I won't," I said. "Do you think I'd run a risk like that?"

"You'll give me her-the money and let me send it to her?"

"I told you I would. Now forget it."

She wiped her eyes and smiled, sort of trembly; and I fixed us a drink. I thought for a minute the arguments and explanations were over, but of course they weren't.

I was beginning to see that they weren't ever going to be over. I wondered how Elizabeth felt about it all now.

"How long will it be before everything is settled, Joe?"

"Two or three months, anyway."

"Can I stay here until-"

"No," I said. "You know you can't, Carol."

"Just until that insurance man leaves, Joe! Just let me stay that long. He-he scares me. I don't want to be away from you as long as he's around."

"Well," I said, "we'll see."

I meant to get her out of the house in the next day or two if I had to pitch her out a window.

Rain began to patter on the roof. It started in easy, and got harder and harder. Inside of a half hour it was a regular downpour. There was a hell of a crash of lightning somewhere near by, and Carol shuddered and snuggled close to me. I reached back to the wall and turned on the furnace.

"Joe."

"Yeah," I said.

"It's kind of nice being this way, ain't-isn't it? Being able to do just what we please around the house."

"I'll say."

"Elizabeth would say it was too early for the furnace."

"Yeah, she sure would." It sounded pretty half-hearted, so I had to say something else. "If you wanted to see someone that was really tight you should have seen her old lady. We cleaned out her room after she died, and she had darned near a whole closet full of dry bread-just scraps, you know."

Carol snickered. "She must have been crazy."

"I guess she was along toward the last. You could hardly blame her, though, with a husband that spent all his life writing a history of the county."

"What'd he do that for?"

"God knows," I said.

Carol snuggled closer. The room began to get warm. The wind rose and fell, throwing the rain against the roof in long steady swishes; and she seemed to breathe in time with it.

My knees began to ache from her weight, but I didn't move. I didn't want to talk any more about Elizabeth or her folks or anything. Everything was all right now. I'd told her about a hundred times that I loved her and didn't love Elizabeth. A man can't spend his life hashing over the past.

I dozed for a few minutes, what seemed like a few minutes. When I woke up, the clock had just finished striking.

I jerked out my watch. Eleven-thirty. I shoved Carol off of me, waking her up, and stumbled out to the hall. My legs had gone to sleep and I could hardly walk.

The phone rang just as I was gripping the receiver.

I answered it automatically.

"Joe?"

"Yes."

"I've got to talk with you, Joe. How soon can you come down?"

"Why," I said, "what's wrong?"

"I'm at my office. You'll be right down?"

"Well- It's kind of a bad night."

No answer.

"Well, sure," I said. "I'll be right down."

I hung up.

Carol was still sitting on the lounge, her face whiter than anything I ever hope or want to see. Her lips moved, but no sound came out of them.

"Web Clay," I said; and, as if she didn't know: "Our county attorney."

27

She swallowed a couple of times and finally found her voice.

"W-What does he want?"

"I don't know."

"Mr. Chance?"

"Goddamit," I said. "I told you I didn't know!"

Hap wasn't supposed to call; he was going right on into the city. But I didn't think it could be about him. Hap was too smooth an operator to be taken in by any of the Stoneville clowns. If there'd been a chance of being caught he wouldn't have taken it.

But even if they had got him, what could he say? What could Jimmie Nedry say, for that matter? Enough to start the ball rolling, sure, but the ball hadn't had time to roll yet. Even Web Clay wasn't dumb enough to tip his hand to me until he had a lot more to go on than he would have.

I went over to the hall tree and took down my hat and coat. And…

And she didn't say anything and I didn't hear her move. But her hand went past mine and grabbed her coat.

I jumped, startled. Before I knew what I was doing, I whirled and slammed her against the wall. It hurt her. It hurt and I was damned glad of it.

She bounced forward, trying to dodge around me; and I caught her by the wrists and we struggled. And then we stopped, posed like a couple of wrestlers in a picture. Ashamed. Scared stiff.

"Sorry if I hurt you, baby," I said. "You kind of startled me."

"It's all right, Joe." She tried to smile back at me. "I just want to go with you."

"You know you can't. How would it look, Carol?"

"I've got to, Joe!"

"You can't!"

"No one knows there's anything between-"

"You're damned right they don't," I said, "and they're not going to, either. What would you be doing up at this time of night? Why would you be traipsing along with me?"

"You don't understand, Joe. I-I-"

"I understand all right," I said. "You're afraid I'll spill something. You want to get in on the ground floor when the talking starts."

It was a bad break but I couldn't hold it back. I'd held myself in as long as I could. Anyway, she might as well know that I was onto her. We knew where we stood now.

"Do-do you really think that, Joe?"

"What do you expect me to think? You're certainly not worried about me chasing off after Elizabeth."

"No. I'm not worried about that."

"Spit it out, then, if you've got anything to say."

"You'd better go on, Joe."

"You'll stay here?"

"Where else would I go? Yes, I'll stay here."

I shrugged on my coat and pushed past her. She spoke again, just as I was opening the door.

"Joe-"

"Now what?"

"I just wanted to tell you, Joe. Everything's going to be all right. You don't have anything to be afraid of."

"Not any more than you have," I said. "Not as much. Don't forget it."

I got the car started, and went slipping and skidding down the lane to the highway. At the intersection I jerked the wheel toward the right, toward town. I had to jerk it. Something had almost made me turn the other way.

People in Stoneville go to bed pretty early, even when there isn't a storm to keep them off the streets. I toured around a dozen blocks without passing anyone or without seeing any lights except those in the courthouse. There were a few cars parked out, but none of them was Hap's. I began to breathe easier. He must have done the job and got away.

There was just one way to make sure, of course. That was to drive by Jimmie Nedry's house and see if he was there. But I didn't have any reason for doing that, any excuse I mean, and there wasn't time.

It was almost a half hour, now, since Web had called me. Regardless of what had happened, he'd start wondering if I didn't show up soon.

I drove back to the courthouse, parked, and ran up the walk to the building. I went up the stairs and down the hall, not hurrying but not taking my time, either, just businesslike. I put the right kind of expression on my face-puzzled and a little put out- and then I opened Web's door and went in.

Web was sitting behind his desk, looking about as uncomfortable as I felt. Sheriff Rufe Waters was standing, leaning against the wall. He acted like he didn't want any part of what was going on.

I sat down in front of Web, slapped the rain from my hat, and waited. He made a job of clearing his throat.

"Well, Joe," he said at last. "I suppose you're wondering why I asked you to come down here."

"You can't blame me for that," I said.

Rufe laughed and muttered something under his breath, and Web gave him an angry look.

"Rufe thinks I'm playing the fool," he said. "But I'm running this office, and I've got to do what I think is best. I wouldn't have had you come down here, Joe, if I hadn't figured I had to."

"So?" I said.

"Well, I just wanted to know, Joe-I wondered if you thought, perhaps-"

Rufe Waters laughed again.

"I'll tell you, Joe. He thinks it wasn't Mrs. Wilmot that got killed in the fire."

28

I tried to keep from jumping. Then I remembered that I should, that anyone would be startled by a statement of that kind; and I gave a good healthy start. I leaned forward, frowning, interested.

"Web must have some reason for thinking that," I said. "What is it, Web?"

He wiped his face, relieved that I wasn't sore. "Has Appleton said anything to you about a woman he was looking for? A woman that came out here on the day of the fire and disappeared?"

"Why, yes," I said, "I believe he did make some mention of it."

"Well, that's it. He prowled the town from one end to the other looking for her, and then he called us in and we checked with everyone that hires household help. Everyone but you, and, of course, Elizabeth."

"Yes," I said. "Go on, Web."

"Well, Joe, we figure-Appleton and I figure-that that woman must have gone to your place."

"She didn't," I said. "Elizabeth didn't say anything about hiring anyone."

"But that doesn't mean she didn't do it!" Web laughed apologetically. "No offense. I just mean she wouldn't have been a Barclay if she hadn't been a wee bit highhanded. All the Barclays were."

"You're right about that," I said. "But-"

"You were in the city, Joe. You didn't go home after you left in the morning. So the woman could have been there, and you wouldn't have known a thing about it."

I shook my head, stalling; waiting to be convinced. I could see where the conversation was leading, but there wasn't anything to do but follow it. It was a crazy way for things to turn out, to be tripped up by a dame that didn't belong in the plot at all. But there it was.

And I couldn't help Carol. All I could do was save myself.

"I don't think Elizabeth would have done that," I said. "But give me the rest of it."

"Here's the way we see it," said Web. "Mrs. Wilmot put an ad in one of the city papers and hired this woman. She hired her, and the Farmer girl didn't know about it until Mrs. Wilmot picked her up that night in Wheat City. Probably Elizabeth was a little bit curt, and Carol got sore. You couldn't blame her much. Here she was coming back from a vacation, with all her money spent more'n likely, and she finds herself out of a job.

"It's thirty miles from here to Wheat City. We figure that somewhere between here and there, Elizabeth was killed and her body hid. We figure that Carol drove on home by herself, killed the other woman to keep from giving her play away, and then put her in the garage and set it on fire."

"I-I can't believe that Carol would do anything like that, Web."

"Oh, she could have." Rufe Waters spoke up. "All them Farmers are a dead-hard lot. I wouldn't put a killin' or two past any member of that family. But the rest of it's all bunk. I mean about this other woman, and all."

Web glared at him. "What's bunk about it? It all fits in, don't it?"

"I ain't going to argue," said Rule. "I'll go along with you so far as to say that the girl might have had an argument with Mrs. Wilmot and killed her, but that's as far as I will go."

"I can't believe it," I said again. "Carol and Elizabeth got along fine-at least, while I was around."

"Well," drawled Web, "what getting-along is to a man isn't the same as it is to a woman. A man doesn't really know when womenfolks are at outs and when they're not."

"But if Elizabeth hadn't wanted her around-"

"-she'd have fired her," said Web. "And I'm claiming that's just what she did do! She went right ahead without asking or telling anyone and canned her."

Rufe scratched his head thoughtfully. Web had made a point with him.

"It's a little too pat," I said. "Carol had been with us for almost a year. If Elizabeth had wanted to fire her, it looks like she'd have done it long ago."

"Maybe the trouble just came up lately. Maybe Elizabeth couldn't find anyone to take her place. Maybe she was waiting until Carol was out of town. That's common sense, isn't it?"

"Well," I hesitated, "it sounds reasonable."

"I tell you, Joe; it just had to be something like that. The more you think about, the more you see I'm right. I'm not saying that the girl just hauled off and deliberately started killing. Probably it was kind of an accident to begin with. She was mad. She flung out at Elizabeth and killed her before she knew what she was doing. Then she had to go on and do the rest to protect herself."

He stared at me, waiting, and I nodded my head a couple of times. "I don't know, Web. The way you put it-''

"It's a cinch that fire didn't start itself," said Rufe Waters.

"No, it didn't," said Web. "The girl had to do it, Joe. She was the only one that could have."

I could have said, "How can you be so damned sure that the woman stayed here? How do you know she's not in some other burg right now, throwing herself a whing-ding?"

But what I said was, "Maybe you're right."

"It's not just my idea," Web went on. "This insurance fellow, Appleton, really thought of it. Didn't he ask you anything about how things stood between Carol and Mrs. Wilmot?"

"Yes, he did."

"Well, he-we hadn't really started putting two and two together, then. We thought it was just a matter of a little work to turn this missing woman up. When we couldn't find her he started putting two and two together, and we figured it like I just told you. He heard from his company tonight, and they think he's on the right track. They're willing to back him up in anything he does. That's why I got you down here."

"I see," I said.

"Appleton's going to ask that the bod- that the remains be exhumed and examined in the morning. He's going to demand a real post mortem. If it don't show it was Elizabeth that was killed in the fire, he's going to put a murder charge against Carol Farmer. I don't like to have him running things on me like that. I figure if there's any murders to be solved we people here in the county ought to solve 'em ourselves."

"Especially with election coming up," nodded Rufe.

"That's got nothing to do with it!" Web glared at him. "Now, here's what I thought we'd better do, Joe. There's no use in Rufe or me trying to talk to that girl. She'd just freeze up on us, like the rest of that ornery Farmer gang. So I want you to talk to her. Tell her-"

"Me talk to her?" I said.

"Yes, you, Joe."

"Well, gosh," I said. "I-"

"You know how to gentle people along, get on the best side of 'em. You can get her to talk when no one else could get to first base. You know. Sympathize with her, but show her she hasn't got a chance to beat the case. I know it's asking a lot, but-"

"I don't think it is." I looked from Web to Rufe, jutting my jaw out. "If things are like you think they are, it's my duty to help to get to the bottom of 'em!"

"I knew you'd see it that way, Joe."

"The only reason I'd hesitate at all is because of the possibility that I might gum things up. If the girl is guilty, I want to be sure she pays the penalty. What'll I do if she tries to skip out, or…"

"Just a minute," said Rufe.

He crossed the room, opened the connecting door to his offices, and went inside. He came back with a Colt automatic in his hand. He twirled it, caught it by the barrel, and handed it to me butt first.

"You take that, Joe."

"Well," I said, shying away. "I don't know as that's necessary."

"Take it, Joe," said Web. "That girl may have a gun herself for all you or we know. She might come at you with a knife. She might try to knock you out with a club and make a run for it. You can't take any chances. You take the gun, and if you have to use it, don't hesitate."

I held back a few minutes longer. But finally they talked me into taking it.

29

Driving home in the rain, with my guts kind of knotting and unknotting, I thought about Elizabeth and how goddam unfair it was that I had to do all the dirty work on a deal she'd really started.

I hadn't hired Carol. I never would have brought her into the house. Maybe I wasn't too satisfied with married life, but it never occurred to me to do anything about it. It was Elizabeth who had brought her in. It was just one more stupid thing she'd done that I had to be the fall guy for.

About a year after she'd had her miscarriage I went home one afternoon and some dame was in the living-room with Elizabeth. I stuck my head in the door to say hello, and she and this woman both looked kind of embarrassed. And then Elizabeth laughed and told me to come in.

"This is Mrs. Fahrney, Joe," she said. "Mrs. Fahrney is connected with the children's protective society."

"Oh?" I said, wondering if she had a kick on some of the shows I'd been playing. "That must be very interesting work."

"Well-it is," said the dame, glancing at Elizabeth.

And Elizabeth laughed again.

"We may as well tell him," she said. "He'll have to sign the papers, anyway."

"The papers?" I said.

"I was keeping it for a surprise, dear. We're going to have a son. The sweetest little boy baby you ever-"

"Wait a minute," I said. "You mean you want to adopt someone else's kid?"

"Not someone else's, Joe. Ours. Perhaps I should have told you sooner, but-"

"I guess you should have, too," I said. "I guess you might have saved this lady a trip out here if you had. Any time I have any kids of my own I guarantee I'll feed 'em and take care of 'em and do everything else I'm supposed to. But I'm not spending my dough and my time on other people's brats. I don't want any part of 'em."

Elizabeth sat biting her lip, looking down at the floor. This woman got up and walked over to her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilmot," she said. "I'll run along now."

"Oh, wait a minute," I said. "I didn't mean all that. If she wants to adopt this-boy, it's all right with me."

"But it isn't all right with me," she said, looking straight through me. "Good-by, Mrs. Wilmot."

And she sailed out the door without giving me a chance to reason with her.

I tried to explain to Elizabeth how I felt. A kid is always a hell of a big expense and we just couldn't spare the dough from the show. And, anyway, how could you tell what you were getting into when you take a kid out of an orphans' home?

All Elizabeth would say was, "I understand," and she didn't understand at all.

Well, no one can say I'm not human, and I was kind of ashamed of the way I'd acted. I suppose she did get lonesome around the place by herself, and when she got a cat I didn't say a word. I don't like cats. They demand too much attention. If you're trying to read or eat or no matter what you're trying to do a cat will butt right in on you. Short of killing them, there's no way of keeping them from rubbing against your legs or jumping into your lap or just bothering you in general.

I didn't say a word, though. When it got to where it bothered me too much I'd just go to my room and lock the door.

I guess it finally got on Elizabeth's nerves, too, because she gave it away to someone. I never asked who and she didn't say. I was just satisfied that it was gone.

About six months later she bought a dog-a tan-and-white collie pup. And I didn't say anything about that, either, but I never knew a minute's comfort at home until she got rid of it. I can't stand dogs. I mean, I can't. And if you'd been on the bum as much as I have, you'd know why.

Well, so that brings us up to Carol. And I know what you're thinking-it's what I thought at first- but it's not the case. She didn't take Carol as a substitute for the cat or dog. She didn't treat her half as good as she'd treated either one of them.

I've already told you how she didn't even give her a decent feed the first night she was there. That's just a sample of the way she acted toward her. And it didn't get me anywhere when I jumped her about it.

"Really, Joe, you amaze me," she said, sort of smiling down her nose. "How can you possibly be interested in the welfare of a girl like that? I'm already willing to admit it was a mistake to bring her here."

"Well, she's here," I said, "and she's going to stay. And we're going to treat her decent, too."

"Are we?"

"All right, don't, then," I said. "But if you won't do anything for her yourself, don't stand in my way."

"I won't," she said, still smiling. "That's a promise. I won't stand in your way at all." And that was the way it ended.

All that was ever done for Carol was done by me. I hadn't lied to Appleton about that. But it was Elizabeth that brought her into the house in the first place. I don't know why, unless it was just another one of her ways of getting my goat, and I don't know that it matters.

All I know is that Carol coming there is what started all the trouble, and that it was left to me to clean it up.

There was one thing that still puzzled me and always had-the money. The way Elizabeth had argued about a split. The way she'd kept telling me I'd be sorry if I tried to get out of sending her the insurance dough.

The people who really care about money are those who lack something without it, and Elizabeth had always felt just as complete and respectable and important without a dollar as she had with a pocketful. She'd been saving and thrifty, sure, but that was more habit than anything else. She'd proved a hundred times over that money didn't mean a thing to her.

When she'd first begun to make an issue of it I thought she was just trying to put a spoke in my wheel, to make it harder to settle the problem between her and Carol and me. And right up until the last, I guess, I was expecting her to say, "All right, have your Carol and everything else. I'd scrub floors before I'd take a penny from you."

That would have been Elizabeth's way of doing things, and maybe I would have taken her up on it and maybe I wouldn't have. The point is that she did just the opposite-something that just didn't fit in with her character. And now when it mattered least of all, I couldn't get it out of my mind.

I remembered how insistent Carol had been on sending Elizabeth the money herself, and the answer to that one popped into my head and made me shiver. She hadn't intended sending it. She'd have burned it up first. She hated her enough to do that, to risk getting us all in trouble just to take one final punch at Elizabeth.

It had to be the answer, because I never wrote even a business letter if I could get out of it and I sure wouldn't have written Elizabeth after we were all washed up. It was a standing joke around the house, my not writing to anyone. At least it had been a joke back in the beginning, back during the first year that Elizabeth and I were married.

We were awfully cramped for dough that year. We had good prospects and I knew we'd pull out in the long run, but I was trying to do too many things at once and we ran short. It got so bad that I even considered closing down for a while and going back to driving film truck. But right at the time when things looked darkest this old uncle of Elizabeth's died back East, and everything was jake. He left her twenty-five hundred dollars, enough to clear up the mortgage on the Barclay home with a thousand left over.

Well, I took her down to the train when she started back to collect, and while we were waiting on the platform she asked me to send her a dollar.

"Send you a dollar?" I laughed. "What's the idea? Here, I'll give you-"

"No, I want you to send it to me, Joe. I know that's the only way I'll hear from you."

"Oh, now," I said. "I don't think I'm that bad. I'll drop you a card."

"Oh, but you are that bad," she said. "Send me the dollar or you'll be sorry when I come back."

She was kidding, you know, like newly married people will. But I thought if it meant that much to her I'd play along. And that was the cause of two of the worst weeks I've ever spent in my life.

I am careful about money; a businessman has got to be. I'd double-checked the hotel address where Elizabeth was supposed to be staying, and I put a five-day return on the envelope when I mailed it. And then, through some kind of mix-up, it came back to me, and the envelope was stamped Not known here.

Scared? Worried? Brother!

I didn't know where else to write. I knew she was supposed to be at the address I had. And, of course, she thought I'd broken my promise so she didn't write me, either. She finally broke down and sent me a wire, and I sent her one, and-and that was the end of it.

But until I heard from her I was imagining all sorts of things. I'd about halfway decided that she must be dead…

30

I used to know a drunk years ago, a booker at one of the film exchanges in the city. He was one of those God-awful, noisy, messy drunks; the worst of the worst kind. And do you know something? That guy couldn't stand the sight of another drunk. It wasn't any pretense. He actually hated 'em. He'd walk six blocks to keep from passing one on the street.

I was thinking about him, and wondering why I was thinking about him, as I turned into the lane toward home. Then, as I drove into the yard, another funny thing popped into my mind-the tag line on an old joke. It's not the original cost but the upkeep.

There it is. Make anything you want to out of it.

After I'd shut off the motor I sat in the car for a moment, pulling myself together; thinking-trying to think-what a hell of a mess Carol had got me into by going to work for us. Then, I rubbed the gun in my pocket, wiped the sweat off my hand, and got out.

I went up the steps.

I crossed the porch and opened the door.

As far as I could see, there from the hall, everything was just like I had left it. The shades were drawn. The furnace was still ticking away, throwing out warm waves of heat. The lights were…

"Carol," I called. "Carol!"

And every light in the place went out.

I stood where I was, paralyzed; too shocked to move. And the air from the furnace didn't seem warm any more. It got colder and colder. It brushed against my face like the draft from an icebox. Somehow I got my foot behind me and kicked the door shut. As an afterthought, I turned the key in the lock and put it in my pocket.

I called her one more time. "Carol!"

There wasn't any answer.

It wasn't the storm, then. She'd pulled the switch. She'd done it without even waiting to see what Web had wanted, or what I was going to do about it. And she'd been nagging me about not trusting her!

I was sore and relieved at the same time. It made things easier.

I started to strike a match, but caught myself. She'd see me first; and she hadn't turned out those lights for the fun of it. She was sure I'd put her on the spot. Or, maybe, she'd guessed that I could never feel safe as long as she was alive. Anyway, she was playing for keeps.

I don't know whether I've described the layout of our house or not. There's a hall extending from the front door to the kitchen. On the left, as you go in, is the living-room. The dining-room is across from it, on the right.

I went down the hall on tiptoe to the living-room, and eased the drapes apart. My eyes were getting used to the dark, and I could see a little. Not much, but a little. The outlines of the furniture; shadowy blotches on the wall where pictures hung.

The living-room looked empty, and I decided it must be. The master light switch was in the kitchen. She hadn't had time to move far from it.

I tried to figure out which way she'd go. Up the hall toward me, or through the door into the dining-room? Or would she still be there in the kitchen?

I started down the hall. And stopped.

A door had creaked. The door connecting the dining-room and kitchen. She was coming around that way. Getting behind me.

I pivoted and crept back to the dining-room. I slid through the portiers, holding my breath.

The door creaked again as it was opened wider. Now I could see a black oblong as it was opened all the way.

I could see a shadow, a crouched blur upon the black.

I touched the trigger of the automatic.

The explosion was almost deafening, but I heard her scamper back into the kitchen. I heard one of the chairs go over. I eased forward again, not seeing too well because of the flash of light from the shot. At the door into the kitchen I dropped down on my hands and knees and started to crawl across the threshold.

It was a minute or two before I saw her, her shadow against the far wall. I waited until I was sure, until I saw it edging toward the spot where the hall door would be. Then, slowly, I began rising to my feet.

I was too slow for her. In a split second the door banged open. Crashed shut.

I stood up, panting, sweat pouring from my face. I felt my way along the wall to the switch box.

The cover was open, as I'd known it would be, and the switch was pulled. I pushed it back into place, blinking my eyes as the lights went on. I locked the back door and put the key in my pocket. I waited, looking upward.

Listening.

At last I heard it. The squeak of a bedspring. I started to tiptoe out of the kitchen, then stopped again. She'd have to come out of her room. It wouldn't look right to break the door down.

I began to whistle to myself, as I thought it over. And then I started to whistle louder, loud enough for her to hear me and just as if I didn't have a care in the world.

I tramped up the stairs, and knocked on the door of her bedroom.

"Carol!" I called. "Are you asleep?"

There was no answer, but the bed creaked again. In my mind I could see her sitting there, huddled as far back as she could get. Staring at the door.

I let out an embarrassed laugh. "Did you hear all that racket I was making? The light switch dropped down and shut off the current. I thought there was a prowler in the house." I laughed again. "Guess I'd be shooting yet if my gun hadn't jammed."

I could own a gun. She couldn't be sure that I didn't. I heard-I thought I heard-a faint sigh of relief. A scared, doubtful sigh.

"Get dressed, Carol. We've got to get out of here. Right away, tonight."

There wasn't any kind of sound this time; nothing I could identify. But she seemed to be asking a question.

"Do you hear me, Carol?" I knocked again. "We've got to beat it. They've found out about the woman you hired. They haven't got the straight of things, but they know enough. They're going to open the grave in the morning. As soon as they find out it wasn't Elizabeth, we'll be sunk. They'll run Elizabeth down, and she'll squawk, to save her own neck. The whole thing will be pinned on us." I banged harder on the door.

"Come on! We can be a long ways from here by daylight. Open the door and I'll help you pack!"

She didn't answer. It dawned on me that she probably couldn't. She was too frightened, too scared of what her voice might tell me.

But she had got up. She was standing. And now she was coming to the door.

Afraid, yes. Scared as hell. But more scared not to. I raised and leveled the gun. My hand was shaking, and I gripped my wrist with my other hand and steadied it.

The key grated and clicked in the lock. The doorknob turned.

Then the door flew open, and just as it did I squeezed the trigger.

There was one long, stuttering explosion. And then it was all over.

And through the smoke I saw Appleton grinning at me.

31

"Thanks a lot. I think that establishes an intention to kill, even though you were shooting blanks." His grin broadened, seeming to contract his eyes. "Not that we needed it after your interesting revelations. You're a hard man, Joe. We thought you'd give the gal some kind of explanation before you started shooting.”

“I-I-” I said. “The sheriff gave me that gun. I-I thought she was going to kill me, and-”

“Oh, come now, Joe.” He shook his head. “Who do you think was playing that game of tag with you-trying to get you to open up? Why do you think Waters gave you a gun loaded with blanks? What do you think happened to your buddy, Chance?”

I swallowed. Hard. “You got-Hap?”

"Uh-huh. Caught him right in the act of slugging Jimmie Nedry. He was quite cooperative, but his information wasn't very helpful. He put the finger on you, but it didn't mean anything to us. Not any more than what Andy Taylor had to tell."

"Cut it out!" I laughed in his face. I was caught, but that didn't mean I was a sucker. "If Andy had told you anything-"

"Of course, he did, Joe. Think a minute. What could you possibly offer a man in Taylor's position that would reimburse him for the risk of a long prison sentence? Don't put yourself in his place. It doesn't work. Taylor told us when you offered to cancel the lease on the Bower. Nedry told us about the stunt with the photoelectric cells; Nedry and Blair. But that still didn't give us enough. You could have had a change of heart with Taylor. Nedry and Blair were sore at you."

He paused, one eyebrow raised, and I nodded.

"Go on. Give it all to me."

"You already know it, Joe. Most of it, anyway. I was sure that you'd loved your wife. I knew that if the fire had been set you couldn't have done it since you were out of town. That gave us one, or, rather, two possibilities to work on. If a crime had been committed Carol was involved in it. And if you were really covering up for her-and we couldn't be sure that you were-then you were in on it, too, and-"

His voice trailed off, and he paused again. And it seemed as if he was trying not to look at me.

"Maybe you'd better sit down, Joe."

"What the hell for?" I said. "I can take it. I can hand it out and I can t-take it. You figured that we must have-must have brought in another woman. You made up that story about looking for one to see how I'd take it. That's it, ain't-isn't it? There wasn't any other woman, was there?"

"No, Joe, there wasn't. When I first gave you the yarn I thought it had struck home. But later on, that night in my hotel room, I wasn't sure. In fact, I'd have been willing to bet that you were on the level. If you hadn't made that one-sided swap with Andy Taylor-"

"Jesus!" I laughed. "Jesus Christ! I gave you the cards myself. If I'd just sat tight you'd never have known about-that it wasn't Elizabeth."

He shook his head. "You don't understand, Joe. Waters and Clay were your friends. They didn't want to tell you something that might hurt your feelings. That was in the beginning. Later on, when this Nedry and Taylor business developed, they agreed to keep quiet. They were safe enough regardless of how the thing turned out. You couldn't blame them for not mentioning a routine measure, particularly since I'd instigated it."

"You're talking a lot," I said. "You're talking a lot and you're not s-saying-you're not saying-"

"Better accept it, Joe. Face it and get it over with."

"I-I don't know what-"

"You must know. Otherwise we'd have arrested you right in the beginning. I don't know why she did it. I don't know why she came back here and walked into the trap she'd helped to set. That's something for you to figure out if you haven't already got it figured. All I can tell you is this, Joe. We identified the body days ago, and"-his voice dropped-"Carol came back from the city alone."

His hand shot out as I staggered. I threw it off.

"Carol- Where is she?"

"Look on the bed, Joe."

He stood aside.

I looked.

The haft of the scissors stood out from her breast like an unclasped pin. That was all I could see of her. The scissors, and her breast arched up to meet it.

"She left a note, Joe. A confession. She was going to take all the blame on herself. I put the screws on her, and she told me she'd talk to the county attorney. I let her come up here to get ready, and-"

He broke off, watching me.

"If she'd told me," I said. "If she'd told me-"

"Yes, Joe? If she'd told you she'd killed the woman you loved?"

I looked from the bed to him. I looked back at the bed. I took a step forward.

"Would it, Joe? Would it have been all right?"

I didn't answer him. I couldn't. I didn't know the answer until I reached the bed. And then I knew, but there weren't any words left in me.

It wasn't the way she looked, but the way I did. Because all I'd ever seen in her was myself, the little of myself that was pitying and compassionate and unselfish or whatever you want to call it. And, now, in the ending, even that little was gone. And all that was left was what I could see here, in her eyes. Dead eyes, turning in slightly.

I shivered and tried to look away.

I thought, They can't hang me. I'm already dead. I've been dead a long, long time.

GLOSSARY OF EXHIBITOR TERMS

B.O. box office (receipts)

DARK not in operation; a dark house

GRIND-HOUSE a show which operates 24 hours daily

INDIE an independent exhibitor or exchange

ONE-SHEET (THREE-SHEET etc.) posters. Largest dimension is the 24-billboard size

PAPER advertising matter

PRODUCT pictures

SOUND HEADS the part of the projector which picks up the sound from the film. See below.

SOUND TABLE a now-obsolete device, similar to a phonograph, used in transcribing sound. Dialogue and musical accompaniment of early "talkies" were recorded on discs which were synchronized (perhaps!) with the film by the projectionist. An imperfect and expensive arrangement, it was supplanted by the recording of sound on the film proper and the use of sound heads.