Cornell Woolrich - Nightwebs (A Collection of Stories)

Meanwhile, to the accompaniment of one last wail of despair that rang in my ears for days afterward, the coffin lid had been nailed down fast on top of the pulsing, throbbing contents the box held. It was lifted by four designated pall-bearers, carried outside to a waiting hearse lurking amidst the trees, while the musicians struck up the Death March. The rest of the murderous crew followed, myself included, held fast by the Messenger on one side, the Book-keeper on the other. They forced me into a limousine between them, and off we glided after the hearse, the other cars following us.

We all got out again at a lonely glen in the woods, where a grave had been prepared. No need to dwell on the scene that followed. Only one thing need be told. As the box was being lowered into it, in complete silence, sounds of frenzied motion could distinctly be heard within it, as of something rolling desperately from side to side. I watched as through a film of delirium, restraining hands on my wrists compelling me to look on.

When at last it was over, when at last the hole in the ground was gone, and the earth had been stamped down flat again on top of it, I found myself once more in the car that had originally called for me, alone this time with just the driver, being taken back to the city. I deliberately threw my own mask out of the side of the car, in token of burning my bridges behind me.

When he veered in toward the curb in front of my house, I jumped down and whirled, intending to grab him by the throat and drag him out after me. The damnable machine was already just a tail-light whirring away from me; he hadn’t braked at all.

I chased upstairs, pulled down the shades so no one could see in, hauled out my valise, and began pitching things into it from full-height, my lower jaw trembling. Then I went to the phone, hesitated briefly, called Joan’s number. Eyes everywhere, ears everywhere! But I had to take the chance. Her peril, now, was as great as mine.

Somebody else answered in her place. “Joan can’t talk to anyone right now. The doctor’s ordered her to bed, he had to give her a sedative to quiet her nerves, she came in awhile ago in a hysterical condition. We don’t know what happened to her, we can’t get her to tell us!”

I hung up, mystified. I thought: “I did that to her, by asking her to leave tonight. I hurt her, and she must have brooded about it—” I kicked my valise back under the bed. Friends of Death or no Friends of Death, I couldn’t go until I’d seen her.

I didn’t sleep all that night. By nine the next morning I’d made up my mind. I put the invitation to the meeting in my inside pocket and went around to the nearest precinct-house. I regretted now having thrown my mask away the night before, that would have been more evidence to show them.

I asked, tight-lipped, to see the captain in charge. He listened patiently, scanned the invitation, tapped his lower teeth thoughtfully with his thumbnail. It slowly dawned on me that he considered me slightly cracked, a crank; my story must have sounded too fantastic to be altogether credible. Then when I’d given him the key to my falling in with them in the first place — my graveyard obsession — I saw him narrow his eyes shrewdly at me and nod to himself as though that explained everything.

He summoned one of the detectives, half-heartedly instructed him: “Investigate this man’s story, Crow. See what you can find out about this — ahem — country-house and mysterious graveyard out toward Ellendale. Report back to me.” And then hurriedly went on to me, as though he couldn’t wait to get rid of me, felt I really ought to be under observation at one of the psychopathic wards, “We’ll take care of you, Mr. Ingram. You go on home now and don’t let it worry you.” He flipped the death’s-head invitation carelessly against the edge of his desk once or twice. “You’re sure this isn’t just a high-pressure circular from some life-insurance concern or other?”

I locked my jaw grimly and walked out of there without answering. A lot of good they were going to be to me, I could see that. All but telling me to my face I was screwy.

Crow, the detective, came down the steps behind me leisurely buttoning his topcoat. He said, “An interstate bus’ll leave me off close by there.” It would, but I wondered how he knew that.

He threw up his arm as one approached and signalled it to stop. It swerved in and the door folded back automatically. His eyes bored through mine, through and through like gimlets, for just a second before he swung aboard. “See you later, Brother,” he said. “You’ve earned the Penalty if anyone ever did. You’re going down — without an air-pipe.” Then he and the bus were gone — out toward Ellendale.

The sidewalk sort of swayed all around me, like jelly. It threatened to come up and hit me flat across the face, but I grabbed hold of a bus-stop stanchion and held onto it until the vertigo had passed. One of them right on the plainclothes squad! What was the sense of going back in there again? If I hadn’t been believed the first time, what chance had I of being believed now? And the way he’d gone off and left me just now showed how safe he felt on that score. The fact that he hadn’t tried to hijack me, force me to go out there with him, showed how certain they felt of laying hands on me when they were ready.

Well they hadn’t yet! And they weren’t going to, not if I had anything to say about it. Since I couldn’t get help, flight was all that remained then. Flight it would be. They couldn’t be everywhere, omnipotent; there must be places where I’d be safe from them — if only for a little while.

I drew my money out of the bank, I phoned in to the office that they could find somebody else for my job, I wasn’t coming in any more. I went and got my car out of the garage where I habitually bedded it, and had it serviced, filled and checked for a long trip. I drove around to where I lived, paid up, put my valise in the back. I drove over to Joan’s.

She looked pale, as though she’d been through something the night before, but she was up and around. My arms went around her. I said, “I’ve got to get out of town — now, before the hour’s out — but I love you, and I’ll get word to you where I am the minute I’m able to.”

She answered quietly, looking up into my face: “What need is there of that, when I’ll be right there with you — wherever it is?”

“But you don’t know what I’m up against — and I can’t tell you why, I’ll only involve you!”

“I don’t want to know. I’m coming. We can get married there, wherever it’s to be—” She turned and ran out, was back again in no time, dragging a coat after her with one hand, hugging a jewel case and an overnight-bag to her with the other, hat perched rakishly on the back of her head. We neither of us laughed, this was no time for laughter.

“I’m ready—” She saw by my face that something had happened, even in the brief time she’d been gone. “What is it?” She dropped the things; a string of pearls rolled out of the case.

I led her to the window and silently pointed down to my car below. I’d had the tires pumped up just now at the garage; all four rims rested flatly on the asphalt now, all the air let out. “Probably emptied the tank, cut the ignition, crippled it irreparably, while they were at it,” I said in a flat voice, “We’re being watched every minute! Damn it, I shouldn’t have come here, I’m dragging you to your grave!”

“Bud,” she said, “if that’s where I’ve got to go to be with you — even that’s all right with me.”

“Well, we’re not there yet!” I muttered doggedly. “Train, then.”

She nodded eagerly. “Where to?”

“New York. And if we’re not safe even there, we can hop a boat to England — that surely ought to be out of their reach.”