Джеймс Чейз - Do Me a Favour Drop Dead

I told him the story: how Marshall had employed me to drive his car, how we had gone to Frisco, of his continuous drinking, of his meeting with Bernstein, how Bernstein had asked me to keep liquor away from him, how he had got so drunk in Frisco I had to call a doctor, how Bernstein and the doctor decided he should go home, how I had driven him back, how he had demanded whisky and how I had told him Bernstein had made me responsible for keeping liquor out of his way. How, when I had got him to bed, I had thrown away the only full bottle of whisky in the house but that I had forgotten there was a half-bottle in the car’s glove compartment. I went on to explain I had been up the previous night looking after him and I was bushed. I had gone to bed and slept through until the morning.

‘Mrs. Marshall went to bed later. She looked in on Frank. He was sleeping. She went to bed,’ I said, looking straight at McQueen. ‘I guess during the night he woke up and remembered the whisky in the car, came down, found it chilly in the garage, turned on the engine and the heater... when I found him the heater was on and the car suffocatingly hot... then he started drinking. I guess the fumes fixed him.’

McQueen nodded.

I went on to tell him that we were both up around seven. I went to see how Marshall was, found the bed empty. We had searched the house and finally had found him in the garage. I had opened the garage doors, turned off the motor, made sure he was dead while Mrs. Marshall had called Dr. Saunders. I paused, then lifted my hands. ‘That’s it, Sheriff.’

McQueen digested this, stroking his moustache, then he looked at Ross.

‘The facts add up, Abel,’ he said. ‘Suppose we now talk to Mrs. Marshall, huh?’

Ross stared steadily at him as he said, ‘Looks to me like an open and shut case, Chief.’ He closed his notebook. As you say, the facts add up. If you want to disturb Mrs. Marshall at this time, that’s your privilege.’

I could scarcely believe my ears. I was expecting Ross to start all kinds of trouble, but instead, here he was, slamming the lid down.

McQueen squinted at him.

‘You don’t think we should disturb her right now?’ he asked.

‘Mrs. Marshall inherits,’ Ross said quietly.

McQueen got the message. Ross was telling him in so many words that Wicksteed’s amusement park now hung on Mrs. Marshall’s goodwill. If she was bothered with questions right now, she might not be inclined to part with the necessary funds.

McQueen cleared his throat, took off his Stetson and wiped his forehead. He looked like a man who has just avoided stepping on a rattlesnake.

‘Well, yes, I wouldn’t want to disturb her at this time. The coroner will ask all the necessary questions. Yeah...’ He got to his feet. ‘I’ll send an ambulance up, Devery. You tell Mrs. Marshall to take it easy. Give her my condolences. The inquest will be in a couple of days. I’ll let you know just when.’

‘Thank you, Sheriff.’ I got to my feet. ‘I’ll tell Mrs. Marshall how considerate you have been.’

He beamed.

‘You do that, and tell her if there is anything worrying her to let me know. Let her know Wicksteed is behind her in her loss.’

Ross left the room, carrying the bottle. When he had gone, McQueen offered his hand.

‘Remember, Devery, Mrs. Marshall is now important. Put m a good word for us.’

Shaking his hand, I said I would.

I watched them drive away, then went up the stairs to Beth’s room.

She was standing in the doorway, waiting for me. I scarcely recognized her. She had changed into a dark grey frock with a white scarf at her throat. She had altered her hairstyle so it now came forward, covering the sides of her face. Her features seemed to have softened and her eyes were a little swollen. She looked like a woman who had suddenly lost her husband. How she had done it I had no idea, but she had done it.

I felt my fear drain away. First Ross, now this transformation. There was only one more hurdle... Bernstein, and she had said she could handle him. Looking at her, I was now sure she could.

‘They’ve gone?’

‘Yes. You’re a millionairess now, Beth. The Sheriff didn’t want to disturb you. He was scared stupid you might resent being disturbed and you wouldn’t then finance their amusement park. We’re nearly home. Everything now depends on Bernstein.’

She stared thoughtfully at me. Again the remote look came into her eyes.

‘No, it doesn’t. Everything now depends on me.’

The sound of a car pulling up made us stiffen.

‘Here he is,’ I said.

She braced herself. The sad, lost look came into her eyes.

‘Keep out of this,’ she said, and as the front door bell rang, she went down the stairs, crossed the hall and opened the front door.

Beth and Bernstein were still shut up together in the living room when the ambulance arrived.

I went down and showed the two Interns where to find Marshall. They carried a stretcher into the garage and I took a walk around the garden. I was now almost certain that both of us were going to get away with murder. A lot still depended on how the coroner reacted, but I had an idea that Olson, Pinner and McQueen would cue him in. Beth was now important people to them.

But what really fazed me was the way Ross had acted. Maybe Pinner had got at him. There must be some good reason for him to have alerted McQueen to lay off, although, of course, the set-up, as Ross had said, was clear enough and the facts added up, but all the same his unexpected attitude when I was prepared for him to make trouble, baffled me.

I sat on the grass with my back to the house and thought again about Beth. I was more than uneasy about her, but, I kept telling myself, we were both in this together. Maybe, I thought, we could do a deal without me having to marry her, but I would have to handle this with kid gloves.

I heard the ambulance drive away, so I got to my feet and wandered back to the house. As I entered, I saw the living room door was open and I could see Bernstein sitting alone, smoking a cigar. When he saw me, he beckoned.

I went in.

‘Sit down.’ His face was stony. ‘You didn’t do so well, did you?’

I sat down and looked directly at him.

‘What was that again?’

‘If you hadn’t forgotten that whisky in the car, Frank would now be alive.’

‘You think so? I’ll tell you something, Mr. Bernstein, you can’t keep drink from a drunk. If not now, it would have been later.’

He stared at me for a long moment, then shrugged.

‘I’m taking care of Mrs. Marshall’s affairs,’ he said. ‘What did Frank pay you?’

‘Seven hundred.’

He took out his wallet and thumbed out seven one hundred dollar bills which he put on the table.

‘I want you to stick around here, Devery. I want you to look after the place, keep the garden right and take care of the sightseers. There are bound to be ghouls who will come out here looking for souvenirs. Keep them out. I’m taking Mrs. Marshall to Frisco. My wife will take care of her until I can fix her affairs. You stick around until the house is sold. Is that okay?’

‘Is she selling the house?’ I asked staring at him.

‘Yeah. She doesn’t want to live here anymore and that’s understandable. Yeah, she is selling the house.’

‘Well, okay, Mr. Bernstein. I’ll take care of it.’

He nodded.

‘Right.’

Beth appeared in the doorway. She was carrying a holdall. Bernstein shot out of his chair and took the holdall from her.

‘Devery has agreed to stay on, Mrs. Marshall,’ he said, oil in his voice. ‘You go to my car. I won’t be a minute.’

I was staring at Beth. She looked broken. There was no other word for it. She held a sodden handkerchief with which she kept dabbing her eyes. She had probably dipped it in water before she had come down the stairs. She looked a shocked and sorrowing widow. As a performance she outclassed Hepburn.