Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

‘Wait!’ I said again.

There was a note in my voice that stopped her dead. She stared at me.

‘Don’t call them yet. Don’t do anything. Go upstairs and wait for me.’

‘But we must tell them...’

I went up to her and taking her by the arms I gave her a vicious little shake.

‘Do what I tell you! Wait for me upstairs!’

She must have seen by my face that this was no time to argue.

I went into Dester’s study and stood looking at him. If only I could put the clock back. If only I had time to think out a perfect murder plan. If only I had known the fool was going to kill himself so I could have set the stage.

Three-quarters of a million!

It was worth any risk except a murder rap and I didn’t have to bother about that. His letter would keep me in the clear if I slipped up and the police thought I had killed him.

If he would only stay just as he was until I had time to work out a foolproof plan. In a little while rigor mortis would set in. A police surgeon would know to within an hour when he died. The police would then find out that both Helen and I were in the house when he died. If I hid the gun to make it look like murder, they would think we had either faked the murder or had actually murdered him: either way we wouldn’t get the money. We needed to have perfect alibis. We needed to prove we were miles away when he died.

Time was everything, and that was the one thing I hadn’t got.

I stood there, watching him bleed, while I racked my brains for an idea.

The house was silent. The only sounds that came to me were the faint ticking of the desk clock and the steady thumping of my heart. Then above these sounds, but so faint that if I hadn’t been standing still I shouldn’t have heard it, came the gentle rumble of the deep-freeze cabinet motor starting up.

That sound nudged my brain alive. I saw then how I could turn the clock back. I hadn’t worked as a refrigerator salesman for two years without learning what a refrigeration plant can do. Before I was turned loose on to the road I had taken a six-weeks’ course on the principles of refrigeration. Among the things I had learned was the use of a refrigerating plant in morgues and its effects on a dead body.

I saw at once that I now had the means to make Dester stay just as he was until I had time to work out a foolproof plan.

Given any luck, I knew I was now only one jump away from getting my hands on those seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

A little over an hour later, I went upstairs to Helen’s room.

She had drawn the curtains. The bedside lamp was on, casting shadows. She lay on the bed, in an oyster-coloured silk wrap, her face fine drawn and pale, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

I leaned against the door and looked at her and she looked at me without moving.

‘Why have you been all this time?’ she asked. ‘Have you called the police?’

I walked across to one of the lounging chairs, set a bottle of whisky, two glasses and a bottle of Whiterock on the table and sat down.

‘No. I haven’t called them.’

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she asked sharply and half sat up. ‘You must call them.’

I made two big drinks, carried one over to her and put it on the bedside table, then I went back to the chair, sat down again and took a long pull at my glass.

‘Glyn! Why haven’t you called the police?’ she said, her voice shrill.

‘You heard what he said,’ I returned. ‘He said if we were very clever and made no mistakes we could get the money. You want the money, don’t you?’

She swung her legs off the bed and sat up. Her green eyes were glittering like emeralds.

‘What do you mean? He’s set a trap for us. You don’t think I’m going to be such a fool as to try to get the money now I know there is a trap, do you?’

‘Listen: we can get that money. The National Fidelity will have to pay up if we can prove to them he was murdered.’

‘That is exactly what he wanted us to do,’ she said. ‘We’re not going to do it. We can’t prove he was murdered unless we involve ourselves. What do you imagine I have been doing up here all this time? I’ve thought about it. If we hide the gun and say he was murdered, they’ll pick on us. If we had time to think of something, time to arrange an alibi, we might do it, but we haven’t time. He’s dead. They’ll know when he died. We’ve got to call the police at once!’

‘But we have got the time,’ I said.

She stared at me.

‘What do you mean?’

‘What I say. We have got the time. We have all the time in the world.’

‘We haven’t! He won’t remain like he is for long. You must know that. A doctor can tell when he died.’

‘I have put him in the deep-freeze cabinet,’ I said.

‘What?’

She started to her feet.

‘I have put him in the deep-freeze cabinet.’

‘You must be mad!’

‘Shut up and listen,’ I said quietly. ‘I’m not mad. I know what I’m doing. What you don’t know is I’m something of an expert in refrigeration. I used to sell deep-freeze cabinets. Before I was turned loose on the suckers, I took an intensive course on the subject so I would know all the answers when the suckers tried to act smart. The reason why Dester was so sure he had laid a foolproof trap for us was because he was certain we would have no time to fake alibis nor to think up a smart plan. He was relying on the fact that a doctor can tell within an hour or two when a man dies. Dester died at eight-forty, and no doubt the police could prove that we were both in the house at that time. That was what Dester was relying on. By putting him in the deep-freeze, I’ve beaten him. At that temperature the normal process of deterioration is arrested. Bleeding will stop; rigor mortis won’t set in. We can keep him in the cabinet for six weeks or six months, and it is only when we take him out that deterioration begins. Are you following all this?’ I leaned forward and stared at her. ‘When we take him out and after some hours, he will begin to bleed again, and later rigor mortis will set in. Look, let me put it even plainer: suppose we keep him in the cabinet until next Saturday week, then we take him out and dump his body somewhere. Suppose the police find him the following day. The police surgeon would be ready to swear that he died on Saturday when in reality he died fifteen days before. Don’t you see how simple it has made it for us?’

She sat still, her fists clenched. I thought I could hear the faint thudding of her heartbeats, but the sound might have been my own heart hammering against my side.

‘No!’ she exclaimed suddenly. ‘I won’t have anything to do with it. It’s too dangerous. They’ll find out.’

‘What’s the matter with you? You didn’t worry about throwing Van Tomlin out of the window, did you?’

‘I didn’t throw him out!’

‘That’s your story. You’re in a much safer position now.’

‘No. They’ll think I killed him. I’m sure they will.’

‘Don’t be such a fool. This is our chance to get the money. Do you think I’d touch it for one moment if I thought we could go wrong? I know what I’m talking about. If we can’t think of a foolproof idea, then we don’t go ahead. All we will have to do is to take him out of the freezer, dump him somewhere with the gun in his hand and inform the insurance company he has killed himself. They won’t want it proved otherwise. They’ll be working on our side if we can’t get a bright idea, and when those boys are working for you, you’re safe.’

She picked up the glass of whisky and took a long drink. Her hand was shaking.

‘It’s that man Maddux who frightens me.’

‘So what? We’re forewarned, aren’t we? Okay, suppose he is all that tough and efficient? We’ve got the time. Time is everything in this. We’ve got the time to give ourselves a watertight, foolproof alibi. We don’t try it until we have gone over it again and again; rehearsed it again and again until we know it inside out. This isn’t going to be a rush job. We can take six months if we want to.’