James Chase: Shock Treatment

“Do you love me, Gilda?”

She looked up at me, and there was that thing again in her eyes.

“Can you doubt it, Terry? Yes, I love you. I think of you every minute of the day. I long to be with you. It’s a dreadful thing to say, but if only he were dead... then I could be with you as I want to be with you for always. I’ll never be free until he is dead.”

“But he isn’t likely to die, is he?” I said impatiently.

She pulled away from me and, moving to the window, she looked out onto the moonlit trees.

“No. When the doctor examined him before he came here, he said he was in splendid shape. He could easily last for another thirty years or more.”

“Well, then, why waste time wishing he were dead? We’re not going to wait for thirty years, are we? You’ve got to ask him for a divorce!”

“I can’t do it, Terry!” She looked up at me. “How many more times do I have to tell you I can’t possibly leave him.”

“Of course you can! He has money. He could get a nurse to look after him. How much money do you think he has got?”

She lifted her shoulders.

“I don’t know — a lot. A hundred and fifty thousand: perhaps more.”

Well, then, he can afford to have someone to look after him, and you can have your freedom.”

She turned away from me.

“If he died, Terry,” she said in a low, distinct voice, “that money would come to me. You and I would share it. What would you do with a hundred and fifty thousand dollars?”

“Why talk about it?”

“Terry, please! I’m asking you! What would you do with all that money?”

I suddenly began to think what I would do with such a sum if it were mine. The thought sent a creepy sensation up my spine.

“If I had that amount of capital,” I said, “I could double it in a year. I would open a shop in Los Angeles. I would have three or maybe four service vans covering the whole district. I would specialize in hand-made Hi-Fi sets. I could make a whale of a lot of money.”

“You would love to do that, wouldn’t you? And I would love to be at your side and see you do it.”

I stared at her.

“What’s the sense of talking like this, Gilda? He’s not going to die. You won’t get the money until you are too old to get any fun out of it! So what? Get a divorce! Never mind about the money! Get your freedom!”

She shook her head.

“I can’t get a divorce. I can’t help this guilt complex of mine. It was my fault he became a cripple. I can’t leave him now.”

I drew in a long breath of exasperation.

“So what do we do?”

She moved slowly out of the bedroom and into the lounge and I followed her. She paused on the verandah.

“What do we do, Terry?” she said, not looking at me. “We mustn’t see each other again, that’s what we do. It’s as simple as that. The woman I despise most is the cheat. I have been despising myself ever since we began to make love. We must stop it. It’s the only way. There is no other way. We must stop seeing each other.”

That gave me a hell of a jolt.

“Now, look...”

“I mean it, Terry.”

“Don’t let’s make hasty decisions. We’ll talk about it tomorrow night. This is something...”

“There won’t be a tomorrow night,” she said. “I won’t be coming tomorrow night. This has got to be stopped now.”

I caught hold of her, but she broke free.

“No, please, don’t make it harder for me, Terry. You don’t imagine I like this any better than you do, but I know now how wicked I have been and I must stop it. I must go. We mustn’t ever see each other again.”

There was such despair and truth in her voice that I stepped away from her, a sharp pain at my heart.

She ran down the verandah steps and across to the garage.

I remained there, watching her drive away, trying to tell myself that she couldn’t mean what she said, that it was only her conscience bothering her, and that tomorrow night I would see her again.

But she didn’t come.

The following night I sat on the verandah waiting for her, and as the hands of my watch moved around to half past twelve, I knew she wouldn’t be coming.

That made me feel pretty bad.

The following day was Friday: the day she always went into Glyn Camp to do the week’s shopping.

I was down there, waiting for her.

But she didn’t come.

After a while I began to prowl up and down the main street looking for her, but I didn’t see her.

Finally, at twelve o’clock, I had to accept the bitter fact that she wasn’t coming, and I headed back to the parking lot feeling depressed enough to cut my throat.

As I reached the truck, I saw Sheriff Jefferson coming towards me with a young fellow in a smart city suit who was a stranger to me.

It was too late to duck out of sight, so I waved to Jefferson, making out I was glad to see him.

“I want you to meet Matt Lawson,” he said. “Mr Lawson, this is Terry Regan who I was telling you about.”

Lawson thrust out his hand. He looked just out of college and as bright and as sharp as they come.

I shook hands with him.

“Mr Regan,” he said, “I understand from Sheriff Jefferson you look after all the TV sets in the district.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say all of them, but I certainly look after most of them.”

Jefferson said, “I’ll leave you two gentlemen to discuss your business. I promised Doc I’d give him a game of checkers.”

He shook hands with Lawson, told me he expected me to look him up soon, and then walked over to his office.

Lawson said, “I’ll cut it short, Mr Regan, as you’re in a hurry. I’m from the National Fidelity, and I’m selling TV insurance. I was wondering if you would give me a list of your clients. It would save me a lot of leg work. I don’t expect you to give me the list for nothing. I suggest I pay you a quarter of my commission on any sale I make.”

Although I wasn’t in the mood to talk business right then, I wasn’t so stupid not to see the advantage of such a proposition.

“What kind of insurance are you selling?” I asked.

“The usual: coverage for the tube, all maintenance charges and spares. All I want is the names and addresses of people owning sets in the district.”

“Well, okay. I have my address book in the truck. I’ll lend it to you. You make a copy of it and give the book to the Sheriff. I’ll pick it up when next I’m in town.”

He said he would do that.

As I searched for the address book, I said, “I didn’t know the National Fidelity did TV insurance. I thought they only handled life policies.”

“We cover the whole insurance field. Of course our biggest business is in life.”

I gave him the address book and then shook hands with him and drove back to my cabin.

I had collected the various spares for Delaney’s super-set, and I started work on the set during the afternoon.

I worked on it for two reasons: because I had never been given the chance to build a real super-set before, and it did my pride good to tackle such a job, but also, and much, much more important, because I knew instinctively that Gilda had meant what she had said, and this super-set would give me a legitimate excuse to go up to Blue Jay cabin and spend some time there installing the set, and while I was there I would be able to see her.

So I worked on the set, my ears cocked for the telephone bell to ring which didn’t ring, waiting for her to change her mind and knowing she wouldn’t change her mind, and feeling as bad as a man can feel who is fatally in love with a woman, wanting her every moment of the day and knowing he isn’t going to have her.

And as I worked on the set, I became more and more aware that the one obstacle standing between Gilda and myself was an elderly man who sat day after day in a wheel chair, a helpless cripple, who was no use to himself nor to anyone else.