Джеймс Чейз - There’s Always A Price Tag

‘Let’s go into the lounge. Maybe there’s something to watch on television.’

Lewis was watching the fights when we entered the lounge.

‘These are pretty rotten,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder at us. ‘If you two want some other programme, it’s okay with me.’

Marian said she didn’t want to watch.

‘I’m going over to my room,’ she said, ‘I have some letters to write.’

I was glad to get her out of the house.

‘I’ll come over with you,’ I said.

We walked across to the garage in the fading light and paused at the entrance.

‘I’ll get back,’ I said. ‘I want an early night. All this commotion has made me tired.’

‘You don’t think anything will happen tonight, Glyn?’

‘I’m sure it won’t. Forget it, kid. Dester’s miles away by now. In another few days you can quit.’

‘I shall be glad to go.’

I bent and kissed her. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

I hurried back to the house. Lewis was lolling in his chair, staring at a couple of bruisers being careful not to hurt each other. ‘These two puffs have been waltzing around the ring now for ten minutes. They haven’t laid a glove on each other yet.’

I looked at my strap watch. It was getting on for nine. I had still at least four hours to kill before I could start on the last leg of this nightmare. I sat down, lit a cigarette and watched the screen.

After five more dreary minutes had ticked by, the referee stopped the fight and called it a no contest.

‘About time too,’ Lewis said. ‘Anyway, they won’t get paid.’

Another couple climbed into the ring and another slow, unexciting fight started. After a while I noticed Lewis had fallen asleep.

I looked at him. His thin face hadn’t relaxed in sleep: it looked as if it had been carved out of stone. I didn’t dare do anything yet. I began to check off in my mind the points I had to remember. I had everything ready. First I would have to remove the bottles from the top of the deep-freeze cabinet, then I had to get him out of the cabinet, take him into the garden, and then fire off the gun.

It was only then that I realized with a sudden sick shock that I wouldn’t be able to get back into the house before Lewis came down to investigate the sound of the shot.

I couldn’t take the risk of him spotting me in the garden. He might look out of his window and see me coming back to the house or he might rush down and meet me as I was entering the house.

I sat staring at the bright television screen, fighting against my rising panic. How was I to get around this snag? It took me several minutes to accept the fact that I dared not take Dester out into the garden. Then it dawned on me that I had been making things more difficult for myself. Dester had originally shot himself in his study. The safest thing for me to do was to set the stage exactly as it had been and stage the suicide once more in his study. I could fire the gun through the open window. The fact that the window was open would point to the way Dester had entered the study. I began to breathe again. It was better this way. As soon as I had fired the shot I would cross the passage into the kitchen, wait until Lewis had gone into the study, then I’d leave the kitchen, creep halfway up the stairs, turn and run down noisily as if I had just come from my room.

In theory it sounded fine, but I flinched from the reality of carrying it out. I dreaded opening the freezer and seeing him again, but I had to do it.

Around half past ten Lewis abruptly woke up. I had been watching him and when I saw him stir, I closed my eyes and pretended I had also fallen asleep.

‘Sweet grief! Those puffs are still waltzing together,’ he said in disgust as he sat up.

I stirred and opened my eyes. ‘Well, they sent us to sleep: what more do you want?’ I turned off the set. ‘I guess I’m going up to bed.’

‘Yeah,’ Lewis returned and stretched. ‘I’ve been wasting time. I should have been in bed long ago.’ He got to his feet. ‘Do you lock up here?’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘It won’t take me long. You go on up.’

‘I guess I’ll come around with you. I wouldn’t want a burglar to break in while I’m snoring upstairs. I’d get ribbed for the rest of my days.’

He followed me into the hall and watched me lock and bolt the front door, then he came after me, down the passage into the kitchen and watched me fasten the kitchen door.

‘That’s it,’ I said. ‘Now let’s get upstairs.’

He pulled aside the kitchen curtains.

‘This window’s not locked,’ he said and slid the catch. ‘Let’s have a look at the rest of the windows.’

I could have strangled him, but there was nothing to do but to follow him into the dining room, the lounge and finally into Dester’s room. He had checked and found the windows of the lounge and dining room were locked. He pushed open the door leading into Dester’s study, snapped on the light and crossed the room to the window.

‘This isn’t locked,’ he said.

I was staring at the desk, a cold chill creeping up my spine. Like a careless, stupid fool I had left the pair of gloves right by the typewriter in full view. I took a step forward in the hope I could snatch them up before he turned, but he was already turning and I stopped short.

‘Well, that’s that,’ he said. ‘No one can get in now without breaking a pane.’

He moved across the room, not looking at the desk, and stepped into the passage. I turned off the light and followed him out, leaving the door half open.

‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘If you hear anything, call me, I usually sleep like a dead man.’

We went upstairs together and parted at the head of the stairs. He went towards the guest room at the far end of the passage, next door to Helen’s room.

‘So long,’ I said. ‘Sleep well.’

He nodded, then went into his bedroom and shut the door. I stood for a moment, listening, then I turned off the hall lights from the two-way switch and then went down the passage to my room.

I walked slowly over to the bed and sat on it.

Had he seen the gloves? That was the kind of stupid slip that could put a man in the death cell. What was I thinking about to have made a mistake like that? Maybe he hadn’t seen them. He hadn’t remarked on them, but did that mean anything?

I felt sweat on my face as I realized just what kind of a job I had on my hands this night. I had all those bottles to take off the cabinet, and when I had got Dester out of the freezer, I had to put the bottles back again. I had to do that without making the slightest sound. I wasn’t kidded by that last remark of Lewis’s about sleeping like a dead man.

By checking what he had thought to be all the windows, he had satisfied himself that no one could get in without breaking a windowpane, but he had missed the cloakroom that led off into the hall. That was the way Dester had to come, I told myself. But Lewis had complicated things for me. I had to fire the gun in Dester’s study. That meant I had to unlatch the window, open it, fire the gun out of it, close and latch the window again. That would take up most of my escape time. I would have to move like lightning if I were to get out of the room before Lewis reached the head of the stairs where he could see into the hall.

I got to my feet and undressed slowly. I put on pyjamas and a dressing gown. I had brought the gun up from the study. I checked it, then I took out the empty shell and loaded the live slug in its place. With a handkerchief I wiped over the gun very carefully, and wrapping the handkerchief around the butt, I put the gun in my dressing gown pocket.

My first move would be to go downstairs into Dester’s study and get the gloves. I knew I mustn’t touch anything until I had my hands covered. One fingerprint would blow my plan sky high. I looked at my strap watch. The time was five minutes past eleven. I couldn’t start this thing until after one o’clock. I had to be sure that Lewis was heavily asleep. I turned off my bedroom light, then opening the door I looked along the passage to Lewis’s door. No light showed from under the door. That at least showed he was in bed.