You've Got It Coming

III

Soon after eleven o'clock the next morning, Harry completed the purchase of a 1945 Buick saloon. He drove the car to a parking lot in the centre of the town. Then he set out on foot in search of a hardware store which he found a hundred yards or so up the road. He bought a short-handled shovel and had the salesman wrap it in brown paper. He returned to the car and locked the shovel in the boot.

Fifteen yards or so behind him, Borg moved after him. The significance of the shovel was not lost on him. Having heard Glorie's terms and Harry's apparent capitulation, he had already guessed that Harry planned to wipe Glorie out. The shovel confirmed his guess. He watched Harry take a heavy wrench from the tool kit of the car and conceal it in the pocket of the driver's door. He then got into the car and drove back to the motel.

Knowing the direction he intended to take, Borg didn't follow him. He drove in his car to a side road on the main highway and settled down to wait.

Harry found Glorie closing her suitcase. She had already packed.

“Come and see what I've bought,” he said, “and tell me if you approve.” Somehow he managed to make his voice Sound friendly and he noticed her reaction. Her face brightened as she came to the door.

Together they inspected the car.

“It'll do to get on with,” he said. “There's plenty of room. When we hit the jackpot we'll get something better.”

“I think it's fine,” she said.

He watched her turn the handle on the boot and try to open it.

“The lock's busted,” he said. “The guy who sold me the car offered to put it right, but I didn't want to wait. We can put the suitcases on the back seat.”

He brought the cases out and put them in the car.

“I guess that's all. Did you settle up here?”

“Yes.”

“Well, fine, then we can get off.”

She went back into the cabin for her handbag and hat. He stood in the doorway, watching her while she put her hat on and tucked up her dark hair. She looked suddenly over her shoulder at him.

“You're not angry with me anymore, Harry?”

He forced a smile.

“No, I’m not angry. Let's forget it, shall we?”

“You do see why I . . .”

“Let's forget it,” he said. He knew this was his cue to go to her and take her in his arms, but knowing what he was going to do to her made such a move impossible. “Well, come on, baby, let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

She followed him out to the car. He slid under the driving wheel as she went around to the far door. He started the engine.

“It should be a pretty good trip,” he said, as he engaged gear.

“We have some fine country to go through. We'll spend the night at Tampa. I've always wanted to go there. That's where they make cigars and can rattlesnakes.”

He talked on as he drove swiftly along the broad U.S.27, heading for the Everglades National Park. And as he talked, giving Glorie bits of information he had picked up about the district, he felt sure she was relaxing. Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, he saw she had lost the scraped, bony look and she seemed more her old self.

They drove for an hour before they hit the road that cut through the lonely primeval swamp land, and they passed Borg, sitting patiently in his car, without noticing him. Soon they were running alongside Tamiami canal.

On the highway lay the mangled bodies of raccoons and snakes that had crawled out of the swamp to sleep on the warm road and had been caught by the early morning traffic. Flocks of yellow-headed, red-cheeked buzzards were gorging themselves on the corpses. It was only when the Buick was nearly on them that they flew croaking out of the way.

Glorie hunched her shoulders with a shiver.

“It's horrible, isn't it?” '

“Yeah,” Harry said, “but it's nature. I guess the snakes were suckers to come out on the road and get run over.”

He was thinking of the buzzards. There was no need to have brought the shovel. In an hour or so there would be nothing left of Glorie except her bones if he left her body in the undergrowth.

He felt a cold trickle of sweat down his back. He had planned to knock her on the head and bury her somewhere along the coast road to Naples, but this seemed easier.

There was fast-moving traffic at the moment, but if he was quick, timed it right, he could stun her with the wrench, wait until there was no traffic in sight, then carry her across the road into the forest. He needn't carry her far; just out of sight of the road, and then leave her to the buzzards.

He looked in his driving mirror. There was a car coming, but behind the car he could see a long stretch of empty road. He looked ahead. Apart from a truck that was toiling along about a quarter of a mile away, there was no other traffic.

He slowed down, letting the car pass him. It was travelling at a high speed, and it went past with a swish and a rush of air “Do you hear that knocking?” he said. “Something's loose at the back.”

“I didn't hear anything.”

He had slowed to a crawl. The truck was coming up faster now it had crested the slope. It would be on him before he could do anything, and he cursed silently. He glanced in the driving mirror again. The road behind him was empty.

“Maybe I was mistaken.”

He had trouble in keeping his voice steady. Sweat beaded his forehead and his heart was hammering. He shoved his foot down hard on the gas pedal and sent the car surging forward so as to meet and pass the truck.

The truck went past and thundered on down the road. A quick glance behind and a look ahead told him the road was now empty for at least a quarter of a mile either way. He trod down hard on the foot brake and pulled up by the side of the road.

The steamy heat and the smell of decaying vegetation came out of the forest of cypress and palmetto trees.

“Have a look at the back, will you? It sounds as if the bumper has come adrift.”

She opened the door.

“I didn't hear anything, Harry.”

“Well, look, will you?”

He found his voice was shooting up and he throttled it back just in time. His hand slid into the pocket of the door and his fingers closed around the wrench. He opened his door as Glorie got out on to the hot road and went around to the back of the car.

This was it, he thought, one quick blow, then he'd pick her up and rush her into the undergrowth. He could finish her there.

He kept the wrench hidden behind his back as he went around the car.

“There's nothing loose,” Glorie said. “I think you imagined it, Harry.”

She was facing him, looking right at him. He couldn't meet her gaze. He bent over the bumper and pushed it.

“That's funny,” he said. His voice sounded far away. “I could have sworn . . .”

“Shall we go on?”

“Yes.”

He waited for her to turn. He held the wrench so tightly his fingers ached. As he turned, he saw a car coming fast, and he just stopped the upward swing of his arm in time.

The car, a low-slung coupe, was coming like a bolt out of the blue. Glorie had reached the car door. She opened it. Harry watched her. He was shaking, but he had enough presence of mind to keep the wrench out of sight. The sports car flashed by and went snarling down the road, leaving behind it a cloud of dust.

Harry shoved the wrench into his hip pocket, moved forward and caught hold of Glorie's arm, stopping her as she was about to get into the car.

“Just a second...”

A big oil truck struggled up the slope and into sight and came pounding towards them. Harry thought he must be nuts to have hoped to get rid of her on this road. It seemed alive with traffic.

“Don't let's get in just yet,” he said. “I want to have a look at the forest. Come on. Let's stretch our legs.”

If he could get her into the forest and out of sight of the passing traffic...

“Oh no,” she said, pulling away from him. “I wouldn't go in there. It's full of snakes.”

The oil truck came abreast of them and slowed. The driver leaned out of the cab window.

“I'm looking for the Denbridge Service Station,” he shouted above the roar of his engine. “Is it on this road?”

Glorie got into the car and shut the door.

“Yes,” Harry said, silently cursing the truck driver. “About three miles further on.”

The driver waved and accelerated. The truck went on with a grinding of gears.

For a long moment Harry stood motionless, then he walked slowly around the car. It would have to be the coast road, he told himself. He was crazy to have stopped here.

“I forgot the snakes,” he muttered as he got into the car. “I wouldn't want to tread on a snake myself.”

“The wood must be full of them,” Glorie said. “You've only got to look at the road...”

“That's right.”

He accelerated and sent the car forward fast. They had over a hundred miles ahead of them before they reached Naples.

The canal side of the road was alive with wild birds and the surface of the milky coloured water was constantly being broken as fish reared up to snap at the swarm of insects buzzing above the water.

As Harry drove the Buick mile after mile, the scene gradually changed: the cypress forest gave way to low oak and willow hammocks with the occasional maple tree forcing its way through the dense undergrowth. Every now and then he caught a glimpse of an isolated Seminole village, half hidden from view behind high palisaded walls.

From the barman's map, Harry knew that some way ahead the road forked to Collier City. From the look of the map he had judged there would be lonely stretches along that road, and it was there where he had planned to get rid of Glorie.

Glorie seemed too absorbed by the scenery, the flocks of wild birds that rose out of the forest, startled by the noise of the speeding car, and the turtles that basked along the side of the canal, to talk, and Harry was glad of her preoccupation.

When they reached Royal Palm Hammock, with its white palms growing wild and thrusting their trunks above the cabbage palms, Harry slowed his speed. Somewhere ahead, within a few miles, was the junction to Highway 27A where he was to turn off for Collier City.

After ten minutes of slow driving, he saw ahead of him the fork in the road. He swung the car on to it, leaving the main road on his right, and entered the flat area of wasteland that was covered with palmettos and pines.

After driving a mile or so, Glorie said suddenly, “Is this right?

Shouldn't you have kept to the main highway?”

“It doesn't matter,” Harry said curtly. “This is more interesting, and we can pick up the highway later on. Look what we're coming to. There must have been a clam-canning plant here at one time.”

On either side of the road now appeared great mounds of gleaming clamshells, bleached white by the sun that formed a solid wall, shutting out the view. The mounds continued for nearly half a mile, then the road suddenly opened out on to a dazzling white sand beach with palm trees, palmettos, sea lavender and coco-plum trees to provide a mile deep belt of shade.

The strip of beach was lonely and desolate. Harry slowed the car. “Pretty good, isn't it?” he said huskily. “Let's stop here and have a swim.”

“My costume's right at the bottom of the suitcase,” Glorie said.

“Why worry about a costume? Who's here to see you except me.”

He swung the car into the shade of a palmetto tree and pulled up.

“Come on; let’s swim.”

She got out of the car and walked away towards the sea, leaving a trail of footprints behind her.

For a long moment Harry sat watching her, his heart pounding.

He had a strange feeling that they were suddenly the only two people left on earth. The long sweep of the beach, the dense forest at their backs, the blue sky, the hot sun and the silence told him this was the place. There could never be any place more lonely than this.

His hand reached behind him and his fingers closed over the handle of the wrench. He opened the car door. This was it, he told himself. She was standing with her back to him, looking towards the sea. The breeze moulded her dress around her so he could see the roundness of her hips and her long legs.

The beach stretched away for miles and was completely empty of life. The hot sun had turned the sea into a bronze, shimmering mirror.

He left the car, feeling the hot sand through the thin soles of his shoes. Even if she screamed there would be no one to hear her. He pulled the wrench from his hip pocket and began to walk slowly towards her. She remained motionless, her back to him, her hand shielding her eyes as she looked at the sea that came inshore in little waves, running up the dry sand and then receding, leaving the sand dark and wet.

He kept the wrench behind him as he came up to her. His heart was pounding and his mouth was dry. There was no one to stop him now. He had to do it. There was no way out for him unless he silenced her.

When he was within a few yards of her, she turned and looked at him. The expression in her eyes brought him to a standstill as if he had walked into a brick wall. He could see at once that she knew what he was going to do. The fearless contempt in her eyes paralysed him. He could only stand motionless, staring at her, his face white and glistening in the hot sunlight. For a long moment, they faced each other, then she said quietly, “What are you waiting for?”

He willed himself to hit her, but he was unable to do it. If she had screamed, run, thrown up her arms, he would have hit her, but this motionless lack of fear held him rigid.

“Go on,” she said. “I knew you were going to do it. Well, do it. I don't care.”

“You shouldn't have threatened me,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper. “You asked for it and now you're going to get it.”

He was holding the wrench so she could see it.

“Is that what you're going to use?” she said calmly. “Is that what you were hiding in the car pocket?”

He was confounded by her complete lack of fear and by her quiet, calm tone. He could only stand, facing her, while he tried to force himself to strike her.

“You were crazy to think you could dictate to me,” he said hoarsely. “You're in my way. Do you imagine I'd ever knuckle under to your orders? Joan and I plan to get married. When her old man dies, she'll come into all his money. He's worth millions. Do you think I'd let you stand in the way of such a chance? It's your life or my future!”

He wanted her to run, to show fear so he could strike. This stillness of hers, this cold, unfrightened stare demoralized him.

Borg, who had driven down the beach road and had hidden his car in the wood, watched this scene from behind a clump of palmetto trees. In the hot silence and stillness, every word they said came clearly to him.

“I'm going to kill you,” Harry said, taking a step nearer, hoping she would give ground. “Why don't you run? Why don't you try to save yourself? I'm going to kill you!”

“I'm not stopping you,” she said, not moving nor taking her eyes from his. “I knew you would do this. Yet it was difficult to believe you could be so wicked. Did you really imagine I believed those lies about sharing the money or marrying me? You were so obviously lying. When you tried to get me into the forest, I knew what was going on in your hateful mind. You thought the buzzards would hide your crime, didn't you? Well, now you have me alone. There is no one to see what you do, so why don't you go ahead and kill me?”

He didn't move, sweat ran down his face and he was shaking.

“I’ll tell you why,” she went on, her voice harsh with scorn. “You're a coward. I found that out as soon as your own precious life was in danger, but even then I was fool enough to go on loving you, even when I knew you were yellow and rotten. It was only when you threw me over for that chit of a girl that at last I realized what a weak fool I'd been. You haven't even the nerve to finish what you've begun. I'm not afraid of you! Go on, hit me! I dare you to, you miserable coward!'

Harry half lifted the wrench, then, with a furious gesture, he threw it violently from him. It sailed through the air and landed within a few yards of where Borg was standing.

“Yes, you've beaten me!” he said, his breath coming in great heaving gasps. “I haven't the nerve to finish it. Okay, I'll marry you. I'll do what you say, but I'll hate you for the rest of my days!”

“I wouldn't marry you now if you were the last man left alive!” Glorie cried, her voice suddenly shrill. “I must have been out of my mind ever to have loved you! To think that after all I have done for you, all the risks I've taken and the love I have given you, you could be so wickedly evil as to plan to kill me. If you hadn't been such a rotten coward you would have killed me. I'd be dead now if I had shown any fear of you. Get out of my sight! I never want to see you again! I wouldn't marry you or touch your rotten money if you went' down on your knees and begged me to. I never intended to take the money. I wanted to see how far you would go to hang on to it, and I know now. Go back to your blonde woman and marry her. I don't envy her having you. Get away from me, the sight of you makes me sick!”

The scorn in her voice was like a whiplash. Harry started to say something, but she screamed at him: “Get out of my sight! Go away and hide, you stinking coward! Don't let me ever see you again!”

He turned and walked unsteadily back to the car. Without quite knowing what he was doing, he got into the car, started the engine and drove back the way he had come. He drove until he reached the wall of clamshells, then he stopped because he could drive no further. He was shaking, and his breath came in hard, sobbing gasps. He sat holding on to the driving wheel, his eyes shut, hearing the scorn in her voice and realizing just how rotten he was.

After he had walked away, Glorie sank down on the sand and hid her face in her hands .she heard the car engine start up, but she didn’t look round or move. She too was shaking, but she was thankful it was over, thankful to be rid of him. She didn't care that she had a two-mile walk back to the highway before she could beg a lift The way he had treated her had stiffened her fibre and for the first time in ten years she felt free and she didn't care what became of her. She didn't care either that he had gone off with her suitcase. The relief to be rid of him was so great, she found herself crying with happiness.

She didn't see nor hear Borg as he came silently across the strip of golden sand In his gloved right hand he held the wrench that Harry had thrown away.

It was only when his gross black shadow fell across her that she realized she wasn't alone. She looked up, her body stiffening and her blood congealing. She had a momentary glimpse of his fat, savage face and his descending hand that held the wrench. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could rise in her throat a terrifying bright light flashed before her eyes, and her life disintegrated into death.