Ричард Деминг - Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 9, No. 3, March 1964

Perhaps Arthur Gilbert had often daydreamed of how easy it would be to knock over the twenty grand he was now prepared to finger. He wouldn’t have the guts to do it himself, of course, or, as he had pointed out over the phone, the underworld contacts to pass on his information to anyone who could use it. The thought of all that easy money would merely lie in the back of his mind, awaiting an accidental encounter with a real pro to give it concrete substance.

It was worth checking out in any event, Cannon decided. Providing he could make contact with Arthur Cannon without risk.

Turning his thoughts to this problem, it didn’t take him long to work out a plan for making safe contact. If it was a police trap, by now Gilbert would have reported to the police that the Nose Bandit had promised to phone again Monday. The fuzz would expect no further attempt at contact before then, and they certainly wouldn’t expect it in any way other than a phone call at the store.

The only defect he could see in his plan to make contact was that it involved letting Arthur Gilbert see his face without diguise, something no other victim had ever done. But there was a solution to that. Once their business was finished, he could make another call at the liquor store some night and dispose of Gilbert.

He tabled the matter until Monday morning.

Though Cannon knew what commuter train Arthur Gilbert took home in the evening, because he had once followed him home and had sat two seats behind him on the train, he didn’t know which train he took in the morning. It couldn’t be a very early one, though, as the man didn’t arrive at the liquor store until noon.

To be on the safe side, Cannon was parked at the station on Long Island at nine-thirty A.M.

When Cannon had followed the liquor dealer home, Gilbert had climbed into a parked station wagon when he got off the train. Lacking a car to follow him the rest of the way, Cannon had to content himself with checking the phone book. As only one Arthur Gilbert was listed on Long Island, he knew the man’s address, but on the chance that Gilbert’s home was under police surveillance, he thought it safer to wait at the train station rather than attempting to trail him clear from his home.

It seemed that Gilbert caught the ten A.M. train, for it was nearly a half hour before Cannon spotted his station wagon pulling into the parking area. The man was alone, and, since no other car followed him into the area, he didn’t seem to be under surveillance.

Cannon reached the gate a step behind the liquor dealer. He was on his heels as the plump man entered a car. When Gilbert took a rear seat next to the window, Cannon sat next to him. The liquor store proprietor gave him a casual glance, then opened a morning paper.

As the train started to move, Cannon studied the other nearby passengers. At this time of day there were as many women as men, most of them having the appearance of housewives off on shopping trips. The men all appeared to be businessmen, and none so much as glanced at Gilbert. By the time the conductor had come by to collect Cannon’s fare and punch Gilbert’s commuter ticket, Cannon was satisfied that no police officer had the liquor dealer under observation.

In a quiet voice Cannon said, “Let’s resume our conversation.”

Gilbert gave him a startled look. Carefully he folded his newspaper and laid it on his lap. He studied his seat-mate with fascinated eyes.

“Don’t look a hole in me,” Cannon said.

The liquor dealer emitted held breath. “You gave me a jolt, Mr. — ah — I don’t suppose you want to mention your name. It’s going to take me a moment to get used to you. I’m not a very courageous man, and frankly you scare me silly.”

“You didn’t act very scared the other night,” Cannon said suspiciously. “And you don’t look scared now. In fact, you look pleased.”

“Oh, I am,” Gilbert assured him. “But nevertheless you make me uneasy. I just conceal my emotions rather well.”

This seemed logical to Cannon. Since he had begun to gain news headlines, most of his victims trembled with terror the moment he appeared. Gilbert’s calmness had bothered him a little, and he was glad to know it was all front. He liked to be feared.

He asked, “What is this job?”

“Robbing my home.”

Cannon stared at him. “Come again?”

“First I had better explain my circumstances,” Gilbert said. “My wife has all the money in our family.”

“Yeah?”

The liquor dealer gave his head a wry nod. “When you marry for money, Mr. — I keep forgetting you have no name — you earn every cent of it. That little liquor store I run was financed by my wife, a sort of a bone she tossed me to give me something to do. Once a month her brother comes down to audit the books. If there’s a nickel short, she knows it. That’s what I meant when I told you I was taking a real risk in covering a shortage of over five hundred dollars. The total receipts are turned over to Emily and I get doled out an allowance. The house is in her name, the boat, the station wagon and the other car. Everything.”

Cannon frowned. “How come you put up with that? No guts?”

Gilbert flushed slightly. “It isn’t quite as bad as I make it seem. I have the use of everything she owns. Plus membership in an exclusive country club. Plus charge accounts in a dozen stores, so I can buy all the clothes I want. But cash I don’t have. You’ll never find me with more than fifty dollars in my wallet. Just once I’d like some real money of my own to spend without supervision. I’d like to spread my wings a bit before I’m too old to enjoy spending.”

Cannon said without cynicism, “You’ve got some doll lined up, huh?”

Gilbert smiled a trifle sheepishly. “I’d rather not discuss my precise need for money. At any rate, my wife keeps a substantial sum in the house at all times, seldom less than twenty thousand dollars. It’s in a wall safe in her bedroom.”

“I’m no safe cracker,” Cannon said dubiously.

“You don’t have to be. I’ll give you the combination.”

Cannon’s eyes narrowed. “If you know the combination, why don’t you lift it yourself?”

“Because she’d know I took it. No one but the two of us know it. She’d throw me out of the house.”

“With twenty grand, you could afford to be kicked out.”

Gilbert smiled bitterly. “You don’t know my wife. She would have me prosecuted and thrown in jail. And even if I got away with it, it wouldn’t be worth it. I’m her sole heir and she’s worth three-quarters of a million dollars. She’s also not well. I prefer to stay in her good graces.”

Cannon nodded. “Okay. What’s the setup?”

“My wife is a semi-invalid and spends most of her time in her room. She had a slight stroke a couple of years ago and is paralyzed from the waist down. She has a practical nurse to take care of her when I’m not there, but Miss Prentice goes home as soon as I get in from work. Late at night the two of us are usually alone in the house. We seldom have a guest.”

“I see. You want me to walk in some night and stick you up?”

“Not when I’m there,” Gilbert said dryly. “It’s going to be a little more complicated than a simple stickup. We’ll set a specific time and I’ll arrange to be over next door at her brother’s. She doesn’t object to my leaving her alone for short periods, as long as she knows where I am. She has a bedside phone, so she can always reach me, you see.”

Cannon gave him a bleak grin. “All right. Set a time.”

Gilbert pursed his lips. “How about tonight? I get home about eleven P.M. and the practical nurse leaves as soon a I get there. Don — that’s Emily’s brother — never goes to bed until the late show is over, so there will be nothing odd about my dropping in on him at midnight. I do it often. Emily watches it too, as a matter of fact. You’ll probably find her in her wheelchair in front of the portable in her room when you walk in. I’ll leave by the side door. If you take a station by the garage, you’ll see me leave and can use the same door to enter the house. I’ll leave it off the latch.”