James Chase - Tell It to the Birds

“It’ll interest you,” Patty said and laid the file on his desk. “Not the husband… he’s just the run of the mill, but the wife… oh, la! la!”

Maddox picked up the file.

“What does that mean… oh, la! la! ?”

“You’ll see,” Patty said, and swished her way out of the room.

Maddox lit another cigarette, pushed back his chair and began to read the neatly typed dossier.

On Thursday morning, Anson called in at an electrical store in Lambsville and bought a time switch clock. He asked the salesman to show him how it worked.

“This is designed,” the salesman explained, “to turn on any piece of electrical equipment at any required time. It also turns the equipment off at any required time. For example, if you want a radio programme that comes on at ten o’clock, you set the hand of the clock to ten and the radio will automatically come on at this time.”

Anson said he wanted the clock to boil water for his morning coffee.

“It’s the perfect thing,” the salesman said, “I use one myself.”

At lunch time, Anson went to the Marlborough restaurant. As he entered the bar, he ran into Jeff Frisbee, a reporter on the Pru Town Gazette.

“Hi, John,” Frisbee said. “Have one with me?”

Anson said he would have a Scotch. While they were waiting for the drinks to be set up, Anson asked Frisbee if he was lunching.

“I haven’t the time,” Frisbee said. “I have two murders in my hair and the old man expects me to write something about them every day. I’m running myself ragged trying to find something to write about.”

“The Chief of Police doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere,” Anson said, saluting Frisbee with his glass before drinking.

“This maniac… still no trace of him?”

“No, but the Chief is a wily bird. He may not be giving any secrets away. He told me that he/is convinced the heistman who killed Patrol Officer Sanquist was an out-of-towner, but he’s convinced this maniac is a local man.”

“What makes him think that?” Anson asked.

“He figures no one but a local man would know Glyn Hill. It’s way off the beaten track. No passing motorist would ever find it.”

“A man as bald as an egg shouldn’t be so hard to find.”

“That’s a fact, but the Chief isn’t a hundred per cent sure the girl was right when she said the guy was bald. She was in a hell of a panic. Could be he had white hair or very fair hair and he looked bald to her in the moonlight.”

“Well, I guess it isn’t too tough to check every blond or white headed man in the district and find out what he was doing at the time of the lolling,” Anson said.

Frisbee, whose hair was as black as a raven’s wing, looked at Anson’s blond hair and grinned.

“Just what were you doing at the time?”

Anson forced a laugh.

“In the sack with my local homework,” he said and winked. “Anyway, according to the girl, this guy was in his fifties and fat… that’s something you aren’t,” Frisbee said. “I guess she was lucky to come out of it alive.”

When Frisbee had left, Anson went into the restaurant. So far then, he told himself, the maniac hadn’t been found, but there were still lots of hours to get through before he killed Barlowe, and during those hours the maniac could be arrested. After lunch, Anson continued his routine calls. Around seven thirty, he drove out to the Barlowe house, and put his car in the garage. He rang the front door bell and the door was immediately opened by Meg.

He followed her into the sitting-room. In the light of the shaded lamp, he saw she looked pale and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She looked as if she had been sleeping badly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, taking her in his arms. “You look tired. What’s the matter?” She pushed him away.

“Wrong? You ask what’s the matter?” She faced him angrily. “This thing is on my mind! I can’t sleep. How would you like to sleep in the same house with someone you are planning to murder? You ask what’s wrong? Are you that insensitive?” Anson lifted his shoulders.

“You made your mind up to go ahead,” he said. “You should have no regrets.”

She sat on the settee, her clenched fists resting on her knees. “I can’t believe it is going to happen tomorrow night!”

“It depends on you,” Anson said, sitting beside her. “Can you get him out to Jason’s Glen? The forecast is good… it won’t rain. If you can get him out there, then it’s fixed.” Meg moved uneasily.

“Yes… I’ll get him out there,” she said. “We are going to have dinner at the Court roadhouse. After, I’ll make him take me to Jason’s Glen.”

“I was out there last night,” Anson said. “There’s a telephone call box on the highway about half a mile from the glen.

I’ll be waiting there. I want you to call me and let me know for

certain if you are coming. If something goes wrong, and he insists on returning home, I must know.”

He took from his wallet a scrap of paper which he gave to her. “That’s the number of the call box. I’ll be waiting from ten o’clock onwards.”

She nodded, putting the paper in her bag.

“When you get to the glen,” Anson went on, “stay in the car, but keep the windows down.”

Meg shuddered.

“I understand.”

“When I’ve got rid of him,” Anson said, staring into the fire, “I’ll have to work on you.” He reached out and put his hand over hers. At his touch she closed her eyes. “You’re going to get hurt, Meg. We daren’t take any chances. You’ll have to be brave about this… you understand? You mustn’t blame me. What I do to you will convince Maddox and the police you are in the clear. The doctor must be convinced that this isn’t a faked attack.”

She felt a chill creep up her spine, but thinking of Sailor Hogan, she nodded.

“It’s all right… I understand.”

“From the glen to the highway is about a quarter of a mile,” Anson said. “You’ll have to get down to the highway. He’ll be in the driving seat. You won’t be able to use the car. It may take some time before passing motorists see you. You must fake you’re unconscious. Remember, you say nothing until you get flowers from me. If you get carnations, you’ll know the maniac has been caught. If you get roses, you’ll know he’s still at large.” He took a folded paper from his wallet. “Here is a description of a man I have made up. You’ll use this if the maniac has been arrested. You understand all this?”

“Yes.”

“That’s about it,” Anson said. “Don’t let them rattle you and don’t say a word until you see my flowers. The doctor won’t let the police worry you until he is sure you are good and ready.”

She looked at him, her eyes dark ringed and scared.

“You are sure this is going to work?” she asked. “You’re sure we’ll get the money?”

“We’ll get it,” Anson said. “With this set-up we can’t go wrong. You’ll have the public’s sympathy and Maddox will know if he tries to block your claim, it’ll be bad publicity and he hates that. I’ll work on the reporters. Yes… we’ll get the money all right.”

Meg, still thinking of Hogan, said, “I can’t believe it’s going to happen.”

“In a couple of weeks^ you’ll be worth fifty thousand dollars!” Anson said. “We’ll go away together! You, me and fifty thousand dollars!” He put his arm around her. “Together with that kind of money, we’ll take the sun out of the sky!”

“Yes.”

Meg broke away and went over to the fire.

Anson stood up.

“I mustn’t forget the gun,” he said and crossed to the sideboard and took the wooden box from the drawer. From it, he took the gun and six cartridges.