James Chase - Shock Treatment

“Until he is dead,” I said quietly. “That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

She made a desperate, impatient gesture with her hands.

“He won’t die. He’ll last for years. Keep away from me or you’ll make me hate you as much as I love you now.”

She turned and ran away into the darkness.

I didn’t attempt to go after her.

This was the moment when I decided to kill him.

There was no other way out for us.

I was surprised I hadn’t thought of this solution before.

I got back to my cabin, put on my pyjamas and laid down on the bed.

Murder!

I had no compunction about killing Delaney. Now that I had arrived at the solution, it was as if pressure had been removed from my mind that before had been crushing it. I felt a different being.

So I lay there and I thought about the problem: how I could kill him and get away with it.

So many men had thought as I was thinking: how they could murder someone safely, and nearly all of them had made a fatal mistake and had been caught.

There must be no mistake, I told myself. Unless I was absolutely convinced I could kill him and get away with it, I mustn’t attempt it.

The advantages that went with his death were a spur to my thinking. Gilda would be free, and she would be mine. Also his money would be hers and mine too. We would be able to begin a new life together. With the money, I knew I could make a success of my life. I had the training, the craftsmanship and the knowledge, but, without any working capital, I was sunk.

If I could only think of a way to kill him safely, in a way that no one would suspect that I had done it, then a new and exciting life waited, not only for me, but for Gilda.

But it was difficult. He never went anywhere, so he would have to be killed in the cabin. It would have to be done when Gilda was down at Glyn Camp. Therefore the time was fixed and not flexible. It would have to be done on a Friday between nine-thirty, when Gilda left for her weekend shopping, and midday when she returned. It would have to be done in daylight. This alone made it difficult and dangerous. Although the road leading past Blue Jay cabin was seldom used, the odd person did use it, and I might be seen going there or leaving there. I had also to think of the maid, Maria, who would be in the cabin. I had to arrange that she wasn’t there when I did it.

Whatever the plan was, I had to be absolutely certain that Gilda couldn’t be implicated. I myself had to have a foolproof, cast-iron alibi in case the police found out that Gilda and I had been lovers.

I thought it was unlikely that they would find this out, but there was always a chance that someone had seen us when we had gone to the Italian restaurant at Hermosa Beach and would report to the police once the murder made headlines. This murder had to be fool-proof. There was no point in my killing him if I was to end up in the gas chamber. If I killed him, I meant to have Gilda and the money.

It seemed a hopeless problem, and, although I racked my brains half the night, no safe plan came to me.

It was Delaney himself who showed me how it could be done.

The following morning, as I was about to leave my cabin, the telephone bell rang.

I picked up the receiver.

It was Delaney.

“That you, Regan?”

I can’t describe the sensation that ran through me at the sound of his voice.

“Yes,” I said.

“Will you come over?” he said. “I have something to say to you. I would take it as a favour if you’d come.”

Into my mind came a picture of him hitting Gilda and of her sprawling on her hands and knees, blood running down her face onto the carpet.

Today was Friday. She wouldn’t be there. I had an urge to look again at this man I planned to murder.

“Okay, Mr Delaney. I’ll be over.”

I reached Blue Jay cabin after half-past nine.

Delaney was sitting on the verandah, a glass of whisky in his hand. His face was flushed and his eyes were over-bright.

“Sit down, Regan,” he said, waving to a chair near his. He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered me one. “Have a smoke.”

I took the cigarette and sat down. Just to look at him: the man I was planning to murder, gave me a creepy feeling.

He leaned back in his chair.

“I want to apologize. I’m sorry about that sordid scene last night. I was drunk.” He drank some of the whisky, grimacing a little. “It isn’t exactly fun to find out that your wife is being unfaithful, and I guess I went off the deep end.”

“You don’t have to excuse yourself to me. It’s none of my business.”

“I wanted to say I am sorry you happened to be a witness of such a sordid scene and ask you not to talk about it.”

“I don’t talk about other people’s affairs, Mr Delaney,” I said. “Is that all you want to see me about? If it is, I’ll get moving. I have a lot of work to do.”

I got to my feet.

“How’s that set you’re making me getting on? When can I have it?”

“I’ll deliver it on Monday.”

“Fine.” He lit a cigarette and then, squinting through the smoke, he said, “What do you think of my wife, Regan?”

Did he suspect that I was her lover?

“What do you expect me to say to a question like that?” I asked, keeping my face expressionless.

“I just wanted your opinion.” He leaned back in his chair. “I’m going to tell you something about her, then maybe you won’t think I’m such a heel to have hit her.”

“I have work to do, Mr Delaney. I’ve got to get going.”

Delaney said, staring at me, “I saw her for the first time in the swimming pool at the studios. She worked there at the kind of job they give girls with nice bodies and no brains. I’ve seen plenty of stars in that pool, but when I saw her, the sight of her took my breath away.” He emptied his glass, then refilled it, splashing whisky into it with an unsteady hand. “I fell for her, Regan. I thought of her night and day. I propositioned her, but she wouldn’t play. It was marriage or nothing. Imagine! I could have fallen for all the glamour stars in the business but I was mug enough to fall for her. I fell for her because of the way she looked when she climbed out of the swimming pool with water dripping off her and her swim suit plastered to her like a second skin.”

I stood there, listening to him, wanting to get away, but his words hypnotized me the way a snake hypnotizes a rabbit.

“Do you know what the matter is with my wife?” he asked, leaning forward to stare at me. “I’ll tell you: she’s mad about money. That’s all she thinks about. If I hadn’t any money she wouldn’t stay ten minutes with me. Do you know what the first thing she wanted me to do as soon as we were married? She wanted me to take out an accident insurance policy. She got a man from an insurance company to talk to me. He tried to persuade me to take out a hundred thousand coverage. To stop her nagging me — and God! how she nagged! — I told her I had taken out the policy. She wouldn’t believe me until I showed her the signed policy, but she didn’t know I tore it up once she had seen it.” He showed his teeth in a bitter, snarling grin. “Do you know what happened then? We went to a party. I got a little high and she insisted on driving. Like a fool I let her. I went to sleep. Somewhere up the mountain road she stopped, got out of the car to talk to a pal of hers who had stalled his car right across the road. She set the parking brake or at least she said she did when the police questioned her. Anyway, the car rolled down the mountain side with me in it. It’s taken me a long time to figure that one out. Do you know what I think now? I think she wanted the hundred thousand dollar insurance pay-off more than she wanted me.”