James Chase - Shock Treatment

Doc scratched the side of his jaw and eyed Delaney’s body.

“I’ve always said these TV sets are dangerous.” He looked over at Jefferson. “Didn’t I say that, Fred? Weren’t those my very words?”

“You sure did, Doc,” Jefferson said, leaning against the door post, his thumbs hooked in his gunbelt. “Is he dead?”

Doc bent and touched Delaney’s neck. As he bent, his old knees creaked.

“Sure is: as dead as a mackerel.”

“Can you say how long?”

“Three hours, could be longer, not less. Rigor’s well advanced. Here, son, give me a hand with him. Help me turn him over.”

I felt pretty bad as I turned the rigid body over on its back. Delaney’s face was blue-tinged and congested. His lips were off his teeth in a snarl of pain. He looked terrible.

“He’s been electrocuted,” Doc said. “No doubt about it. See that blue tinge: a sure sign.”

“Any sign of burning?” Jefferson asked.

Doc examined Delaney’s hands, then shook his head.

“Nope, but that doesn’t mean anything. His chair’s metal. He would have received an evenly distributed shock. Well...” He straightened and pushed his hat further to the back of his head. “You won’t be wanting a p.m., Fred?” There was a slightly anxious note in his voice. I had been counting on this. I had been sure Doc wouldn’t feel capable of holding a post mortem.

“If you’re satisfied, Doc, I am,” Jefferson said, pulling at his moustache. “No point in cutting the poor fellow about.”

He walked over to the TV set and stared at it.

“How could it have happened, son?” he asked me.

“If you poke about in a TV set with a steel screwdriver,” I said, “you’re asking for trouble. You have only to touch something that’s alive and you get it.”

“Was there something wrong with the set?”

“There’s a loose lead here,” and I pointed to the lead I had ripped loose.

Both Jefferson and Doc peered shortsightedly into the set.

“How did it get loose, do you reckon?” Jefferson asked.

“It was a bad soldering job. Delaney was in a hurry to get the set and I had to work under pressure. He wanted to see the Dempsey fight film. I guess when he turned the set on, he found he couldn’t get the sound. He probably thought he could fix it himself without bothering me, and this is the result.”

“He didn’t call you, son?”

“No.”

“What made you come out here then?”

There was no suspicion in the old man’s eyes. It was just a routine question.

“I hadn’t been near to check the set since I delivered it,” I said. T happened to be at Mr Hamish’s place, and as I was passing, I thought I’d look in to see if he was satisfied, and I found him.”

“Must have given you a shock.” Jefferson moved over to look at Delaney. “I’ll call the ambulance. We’d better get him out of here before Mrs Delaney gets back.”

“If you don’t want me, Sheriff, suppose I go down to Glyn Camp and break the news to her?” I said.

“You do that, son. It’s going to be a bad shock for her. Keep her away until the ambulance has gone. Tell her I’ll be here for a while. I’d like to have a word with her. Tell her there’s nothing to worry about, but there’ll have to be an inquest.”

I left them: two slightly fuddled old men, happy enough to accept the setup as I had arranged it.

This lack of suspicion, this readiness to accept everything at its face value was what I had been relying on.

As I drove down to meet Gilda, I felt confident that, unless I had made a bad slip somewhere which would be discovered later, and I felt sure I hadn’t, I was going to get away with murder.

I found Gilda waiting for me at the cross roads. She was sitting in the Buick, which she had pulled off the road onto the grass verge. Her face was pale and tense as I stopped the truck and went over to her.

“What is it, Terry?” she asked breathlessly. “What has happened?”

“This is going to be a shock, Gilda...”

Her hands went to her breasts and her eyes turned dark with fear.

“Something’s happened to Jack?”

“He’s had an accident, Gilda.” I put my hand over hers. “He’s dead.”

She shut her eyes and her face went white. She remained like that for a second or so, then opening her eyes, she said unsteadily, “Accident? What do you mean? How — how did he i die?”

“He electrocuted himself. Sheriff Jefferson and Doc Mallard i are up there now.”

“Electrocuted himself?” Her face showed bewilderment. “I don’t understand.”

The distant sound of an approaching siren made both of us stiffen. We looked down the road. The Glyn Camp ambulance went storming past us.

I walked around the Buick, opened the off-side door and got in beside her.

“It was the TV set, A wire connecting the sound control came adrift,” I said. “He wanted to see the Dempsey fight film. When he found he couldn’t get the commentary, he must have tried to fix it himself. He touched something and got the full shock through him. In his metal chair, he didn’t stand a chance.”

She suddenly began to cry, hiding her face.

I sat away from her and waited.

After a few minutes she recovered herself.

“I still don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking. “How do you know all this? You weren’t there when it happened?”

“No, of course not. I was at Mr Hamish’s place. On my way down I had to pass your cabin. I went in to see if the set was working all right and I found him.”

She touched her eyes with her handkerchief as she stared at me.

“You went there when you knew I had left him and I was waiting for you?”

I had trouble in meeting her direct stare.

“I was passing,” I said rather feebly. “After all I had sold him the set, Gilda, and he hadn’t paid for it. It cost me a lot of money...”

“You walked in and found him?”

“Yes. Now listen, Gilda, they mustn’t know you planned to leave him. That’s why I told you to go into Glyn Camp and do your shopping as usual. You did go?”

“Yes, but, Terry, I don’t understand this. Are you quite sure he was electrocuted? Did Doctor Mallard say so?”

“Yes. There’s no doubt about it.”

“Then why shouldn’t they know I left him?”

“There’ll be an inquest. The Coroner will ask questions. If he found out you had left him, there would be gossip. This could be tricky, Gilda. You don’t know what a snake-pit of gossip this place is. They might even begin to think he killed himself. If it was known you were at my place, waiting for me, they’d link us together, and you can imagine what they would say.”

“But you said it was an accident.”

“It was an accident, but they might think he had committed suicide.”

“I think he killed himself,” she said. “Last night we had a horrible scene, and again this morning. I told him I was going to leave him. This could be my fault. I may have driven him to it. If you had seen his face...”

“Get that idea out of your mind!” I said sharply. “It was an accident! No one would think of killing himself by fooling with a TV set.”

“But what exactly did he do?”

“He tried to get the set working again. He must have touched something and got the full shock through him. He was using a steel screwdriver and he was in that steel chair...”

“Oh, no! I’m sure it couldn’t have happened like that!” She was so emphatic she began to frighten me. “He would have to take the back off the set to touch anything dangerous, wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, and that’s what he did. He had taken the back off. There was this screwdriver by his hand.”