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

“How do I get to her room?”

“The side door is on the east side of the house. Walk straight ahead down a hall to the stairs. At the top of the stairs turn right. Emily’s bedroom is the second door on the right and the safe is behind the picture on the north wall. A word of caution, though. Don’t let her hear you until the instant you open her door. That shouldn’t be difficult, because there is wall-to-wall carpeting throughout the house. But walk softly anyway. She keeps a gun in her bedside stand, and I don’t want any shooting. In spite of her strictness about money, I’m really rather fond of the old girl. I want your promise that you won’t harm her.”

Cannon said, “I never harm anybody who behaves.”

When Gilbert looked a little dubious, Cannon said, “If you’re thinking about those three, I had reasons. That smart punk in the filling station tried to jump me. The woman in that drugstore started to scream her head off. And the old man in the delicatessen wouldn’t tell me where he kept his cash box. I don’t use my gun unless it’s necessary.”

Cannon’s reasons for killing didn’t seem to reassure Gilbert much. He continued to look dubious. He said, “Well, it can’t possibly be necessary in this case. She can’t jump you because she can’t move from her chair without assistance. And she can’t scream because she speaks only in a bare whisper. Her stroke partially paralyzed her vocal chords. I want your assurance that you won’t harm her or the whole deal is off.”

“I told you I don’t gun people for nothing,” Cannon said irritably. “That psycho killer stuff is just to make news. What’s the safe combination?”

Gilbert gave his head a slow shake. “You don’t get that until the last minute. You might get the idea to walk in before I got home and clean the safe without cutting me in. I wouldn’t want you to try it with Miss Prentice there. She might try jumping you or screaming. And I don’t want anyone killed. You meet me when I walk out the side door and I’ll give you the combination.”

Cannon shrugged.

“Now you can’t simply walk to the safe and open it,” Gilbert said. “Emily would wonder how you knew the combination. You’ll have to fake being a professional safe-cracker. Put your ear to the safe as you turn the knob and so on. Will you do that?”

“I’ll put on an act,” Cannon agreed.

“You won’t have to worry about Emily giving an alarm even after you leave,” Gilbert said. “If you cut the phone cord in her room, she’ll be quite helpless. Her’s is the only extension on the second floor, and she can’t get downstairs in her wheelchair. She can’t even scream. She’ll simply have to wait until I return. I’ll stay over at Don’s until one A.M. in order to give you plenty of time for a getaway. All you have to do is lift the ten thousand dollars from the safe and walk out.”

“Ten thousand?” Cannon said with a frown. “I thought it was twenty grand.”

Gilbert smiled slightly. “You’ll have to forgive me for my lack of trust, but how do I know you’d arrange to get my split to me? I haven’t the slightest idea who you are or how to get in contact with you. I’ll remove my half before you arrive. Emily always wheels her chair to the stairhead with Miss Prentice when she leaves, so I’ll have an easy opportunity.”

Cannon’s last lingering doubts about the liquor dealer’s good faith evaporated. Though his manner hadn’t indicated any distrust of the arrangements, ever since the conversation started Cannon had been searching for some hint that the whole thing might be an elaborate police trap. The realization that Gilbert didn’t trust him any more than he trusted the liquor dealer settled his suspicions once and for all.

There was one factor Gilbert apparently hadn’t considered though, Cannon thought with a grim inner smile. What was to prevent him from cold-cocking the liquor dealer as he came from the side door, relieving him of his ten thousand, then going inside for the rest?

A moment later he was startled to learn that Gilbert had considered this factor. The plump man said casually, “Incidentally, in case you have thoughts of getting the entire twenty thousand, the excuse I plan to use for going over to Don’s house is to show him my new shotgun. It’s a double-barrelled ten-guage. I’ll have it in my hands when I walk out of the house. Loaded. As I mentioned before, I’m not a very courageous man, but I really wouldn’t have much fear of going up against a pistol with a shotgun. It would be a pretty one-sided duel.”

In spite of himself Cannon began to feel grudging respect for the careful planning Arthur Gilbert had done.

After a moment Gilbert added, “On the other hand, you don’t have to fear my double-crossing you by blasting with the shotgun when I walk out. The only way I can stay clear of suspicion is for you to rob the safe and get away clean.”

Cannon nodded. “I guess we understand each other. We’ll pull it off tonight.”

It would have been pointless for Cannon to ride the train all the way back to Long Island to pick up his car, drive it back to Brooklyn, then have to drive to Long Island again that night. He simply left the car there all day and caught the evening train which left an hour before the one Arthur Gilbert took. This gave him an hour to case the layout before Gilbert arrived home.

The home was a broad, two-story brick building set well back from the street with a good fifty feet of lawn between it and the houses on either side. Driving past it slowly, Cannon noted only two rooms were lit. One, on the lower floor, was probably the front room. The other was a front corner room upstairs. He guessed this to be Emily Gilbert’s room.

Though he had abandoned all suspicion of a police trap, he searched the shadows beneath trees as he passed anyway. There was no sign of a stakeout. A several-years-old car was parked in front of the house, but he saw it was empty as he passed. He assumed it probably belonged to the practical nurse.

Cannon circled the block, parked a half block away and cut through several back yards to reach the double garage behind Gilbert’s home. The garage doors were open and he could see a large sedan parked in the stall which wasn’t vacant.

There was a half moon, but a huge elm near the garage cast the east side of the building in deep shadow. Cannon leaned against the side of the garage and waited. From this point he had a perfect view of the side door fifty feet away.

A few minutes before eleven headlights swung into the driveway. Cannon faded behind the garage until the station wagon drove into it, then moved back to his former position.

A car door slammed and footsteps sounded on the concrete floor. Then Arthur Gilbert’s plump form rounded the corner and the man peered toward him in the darkness.

“That you?” Gilbert inquired cautiously.

Cannon said, “Uh-huh.”

The liquor dealer made a relieved noise. “All set?”

“Uh-huh,” Cannon repeated.

“Just wait here until I come out,” Gilbert instructed. “I’ll come to you. I’ll try to make it by eleven-thirty.”

“Okay,” Cannon said laconically.

Turning, the plump man walked away and entered the house by the side door. Cannon leaned his back against the garage and waited.

Harry Cannon was a patient man, which was one of the reasons he was so successful in his field. He was capable of standing for hours without boredom, studying the comings and goings of customers, when casing a potential job. The wait the next half hour didn’t bother him in the least. He didn’t even feel the need of a cigarette.

A few minutes after Gilbert went indoors, a woman in white uniform came from the side door and walked down the driveway to the street. A moment later he heard the car parked in front drive away.