Джеймс Чейз - Do Me a Favour Drop Dead

The meal over, I returned to the living room and this time I took hold of his shoulder and shook him. He fell forward and I only caught him in time to prevent him sliding out of his chair on to the floor.

Beth had come to the door and was watching.

‘Call the quack,’ I said.

She went out into the hall and I heard her dialling on the extension.

I got hold of Marshall and heaved him over my shoulder. He groaned, tried to come alive, then began to snore. Somehow, my heart thumping, I carried his bulk up the stairs and slung him on his bed. I loosened his collar, stripped off his jacket and took off his shoes.

She appeared in the doorway.

‘He’s on his way.’

We stood over the fat body, listening to the stentorian breathing. We looked at each other. It would be so easy to shift the pillow and smother him, but that wouldn’t be safe. I tossed a blanket over him and we went downstairs.

‘He’ll survive,’ I said as I moved into the living room.

‘Drunks are hard to kill.’

I looked sharply at her, but her expression was again dead. Fifteen minutes later while I was prowling around the living room and Beth was clearing up in the kitchen, Dr. Saunders arrived in a 1965 Ford: a tall, stork-like man with a bushy white moustache, wearing a battered panama hat and a crumpled grey suit.

I kept out of the way.

I heard Beth and him talking in the bedroom: just a murmur of voices, then after a while, they came down the stairs while I stayed out of sight in the kitchen. I heard his car start up and drive away.

‘He said there was nothing the matter with him that can’t be cured by a good sleep,’ she said as I came out of the kitchen.

‘That’s what we want to hear,’ I said. ‘So fine... let him sleep it off.’

It was dark by now, but the air was still and hot. There was a big moon that lit up the garden. I took her arm and we went out into the garden and walked away from the house. Screened by rose bushes and flowering shrubs, we sat on the hot, dry grass, shoulder to shoulder, facing away from the house.

If I was going to do this thing, I had to be sure of her and sure of the money.

‘If something happened to him, Beth,’ I began, ‘would you want to marry me?’

That was giving it to her straight.

‘Why talk about it?’ she said. ‘Drunks last forever.’

‘So let’s suppose he doesn’t. Would you want to marry me?’

She nodded, then said, ‘Yes.’

‘Would you want to stay on here... live like a loner, do nothing but keep the house clean and work in the garden?’

‘What else would you suggest I do?’

‘With his money, Beth, I could become a big shot. I could treble the money in a year or so. We could have a big house, staff, mix with important people. You would have a completely new kind of life. Would you want that?’

‘Perhaps... I would have to think about it. Yes... I’m getting bored with this place. With you to help me... yes.’

That was one hurdle jumped.

‘Are you sure, Beth?’

She dropped her hand on mine.

‘Can one ever be sure? But why talk about it?’

‘In another two weeks he’ll have invested in those steel shares and bang goes all the money. You said it was a pity he doesn’t die. You said that, didn’t you?’

She nodded.

‘Didn’t you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you mean it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you still mean it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, he could die.’

‘But, how?’

‘You know what this means, Beth?’

She leaned back on her elbows and stared up at the moon.

‘I’m asking you, Keith... how?’

‘Never mind right now about how. I want you to tell me that you realize what we are going to do.’ I paused, then said slowly and distinctly, ‘We are going to murder him.’

That was as straight as I could give it to her. Now, it was up to her.

‘But how?’ she repeated.

‘This doesn’t scare you, Beth? That you and I will murder him?’

‘Must you keep harping on that word?’ There was an edge to her voice.

‘I want you to realize what you and I are walking into. The pay-off is around six hundred thousand dollars, and you get me and I get you and we will share his money, but it will be murder.’

She dropped flat on her back and put her hands over her eyes against the white light of the moon.

‘Beth?’

‘If we have to kill him, then we’ll kill him.’

I looked at her. Her hands covered her face. I reached out and pulled her hands away. In the light of the moon, her face looked as if it were carved out of marble.

‘That’s what we are going to do,’ I said.

She pulled free and again shielded her face with her hands.

‘How will you do it, Keith?’ Her voice was so low I scarcely could hear her.

‘You too,’ I said. ‘I can’t swing this on my own. Both of us, Beth. It’ll be easy and safe so long as you accept the fact that we are going to murder him... do you?’

She moved her long legs in the grass.

‘Yes.’

I drew in a long, deep breath.

‘Okay. I want to see his will.’

‘You can see it. I know where he keeps it.’

‘I want you and I want his money, Beth. Is that understood?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you want me, Beth?’

She nodded.

‘Have you seen his new car?’

She removed her hands and looked at me, surprised.

‘No.’

‘We’ll take a look at it. It’s a beaut and it is going to kill him.’

In the moonlight, side by side, we walked towards the garage.

I was in the kitchen, watching Beth frying eggs and bacon when we heard his heavy footfalls as he came down the stairs. We looked at each other, then I moved quickly into the living room as he opened the door and came in.

There was a surly expression on his fat face and his eyes were bloodshot, but considering the state he had been in the previous night, he didn’t look all that bad.

‘Hi, Mr. Marshall,’ I said, keeping my voice low. I guessed he would have a hell of a hangover.

He grunted, then moved into the kitchen.

‘Just coffee,’ he said.

Then he returned to the living room.

‘I’ve got a date in Frisco. I want to catch the early train.’

That left less than forty minutes to get to the station: so goodbye breakfast.

Beth heard and turned off the stove. The eggs and bacon I had been looking forward to came to a spluttering halt. She served coffee. Scowling, Marshall stood with his back to the room and stared out of the window while he sipped the coffee.

‘Get the car,’ he said without looking round.

Leaving my coffee half finished, I got the car from the garage. I had to wait some minutes before he appeared. Carrying a heavy briefcase, he slumped into the passenger’s seat and I drove off.

After a while, he seemed to relax.

‘This is a goddamn fine car!’ he said. ‘I’ll tell you something. A car like this is better than any woman. I’m sweating my guts out to drive her!’

‘It won’t be long now, Mr. Marshall.’

He twisted around to stare at me.

‘Skip the mister routine, Keith. I was in a mean mood yesterday. Call me Frank.’

‘Why sure, Frank,’ I said, thinking: You’ll soon be dead, you drunken sonofabitch.

‘Just remember one thing,’ he went on. ‘Don’t shoot off your mouth to me about money. I know more about money than you’ll ever learn.’

Somehow I kept my face expressionless.

‘Anything you say, Frank, but you did say I could be helpful.’

‘I know what I said, but I was drunk.’ He leaned forward and turned on the stereo radio.

End of the conversation.

There were a number of commuters getting out of their cars in the station parking lot as I drove up. They all paused to stare enviously at the Caddy and then they waved to Marshall. He ignored them.