Джеймс Чейз - One Bright Summer Morning

Vic waited until Carrie was within twenty yards of him, then he rose to his feet.

“Carrie! It’s Vic!”

Carrie shied away, stifling a scream, then stopped and looked fearfully at him. She could just make out a dark silhouette, but Vic said again, “It’s me, darling.”

With a choked sob, Carrie rushed to him and he caught her in his arms. She clung to him while Vic looked over her shoulder towards Riff. Relieved though he was to have her safe, he was frightened of Riff. Seeing Riff still hadn’t noticed that Carrie had escaped, Vic looked beyond him to the lighted hangar where Chita was plainly visible. Then there was the choked bang of a gun that made both Carrie and Vic stiffen. Vic saw Chita give a convulsive start and then drop face down on the floodlit tarmac.

“Let’s get out of here!” Vic said urgently. Supporting Carrie, pulling her along with him, he began to run towards the entrance to the airport, making a long detour to avoid the floodlit tarmac.

They hadn’t gone far when a voice snapped out of the darkness: “Hold it! Stay right where you are!”

Carrie caught her breath in a shuddering gasp as Vic pulled her to a standstill. Out of the darkness, Patrol Officer Benning appeared, gun in hand.

As Chita fell to the ground, Riff experienced a sharp, agonizing pain inside his body as if a knife had sliced into him. He stood for a long, horrified moment, staring at the collapsed figure of his sister, her skirt riding up so he could see the white flesh of her thighs, the light of the brilliant lamps playing on her badly dyed hair.

The red haze of fury that had hung over his mind faded. He felt suddenly naked and alone. Then in the grip of panic, he ran frantically towards the hangar.

Sitting in the pilot’s seat, Lancing watched him come. He was tempted to push open the throttle and take the aircraft into the air, but he thought of Boswick. He couldn’t leave Boswick to face this hood alone. So he sat motionless, the engine of the aircraft ticking over, the propeller blade spinning, almost invisible in the bright overhead lights.

Riff reached his sister. He was panting, frightened and sweating. He bent over her. A patch of red stained her dress in the exact centre of her back. Falling on his knees beside her, he put down the gun, then very gently, he turned her over.

Chita moaned. She opened her eyes and stared up at Riff.

“Get going!” she gasped. “They’re here! Make him take you... never mind me! Get going!”

Riff wiped his face with the back of his hand.

“Where’s the money?” he quavered. “Why did you take it? Why did you do this to me?”

Chita half closed her eyes. A dribble of blood ran out of the side of her mouth. She shook her head slightly, struggled to speak, then shut her eyes.

“Chita!” Riff’s voice cracked. “Where’s the money? What have you done with it?”

She lay silent for a few seconds, then making an effort, her eyes opened wide.

“It’s in the car... what are you talking about? Take it and go! Riff! Don’t you understand? They’re here! They shot me!”

Riff sat back on his heels. Watching him from the pilot’s seat, Lancing felt a chill sweep over him at Riff’s expression.

He looked like a man going out of his mind.

“Didn’t you take the money?” Riff yelled. “It’s gone! I thought you took it! Hear me? It’s gone!”

Chita moved her legs in a spasm of pain.

“Take it? Why should I take it? It’s ours... yours and mine... why should I take it?”

Riff hammered the sides of his head with his clenched fists. He tore off the dirty bandage covering his ear and threw it from him. He was like an animal with a broken back: frantic with misery and pain.

“Chita... I thought it was you! I shot you, baby. Forgive me! I just went crazy. Baby! I’ll get you out of this! We’ll be all right. I’ll get you to a croaker! You leave it to me!”

More blood dribbled out of Chita’s mouth. She reached up and took Riff’s hand in hers.

“Get going, Riff. There’s nothing you can do for me. I understand... you get going.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Riff said frantically. He grabbed up the gun. “We’re going together. As soon as we get to Mexico, I’ll get you fixed. It’s going to be all right, baby! To hell with the money! You and me... like always.”

He reached down and scooped Chita up in his arms. She gave a low wailing cry and arched her body so he nearly dropped her. Blood ran out of her mouth and her eyes rolled back.

Riff held her close, staring at her white, lifeless face, feeling her warm blood against his chest. Then very slowly, he lowered her to the ground.

It took him several seconds to realize she was dead. Chita! Dead! He stared down at her face that had suddenly become the face of a stranger. This couldn’t be Chita whom he had loved, fought with, stole with, lived with, shared everything he had owned with... this couldn’t be Chita!

Then a wild, animal cry burst from him. The sound made Lancing grimace and look away.

Riff began to pound the ground with his fists, crying and moaning, demented in his grief.

The pilot of the helicopter pointed.

“They won’t hear us with that aircraft warming up down there. I can put you down... they won’t even see us,” he said.

Dennison and Harper exchanged glances, then Dennison said, “Put her down.”

Two minutes later the helicopter made a gentle landing within five hundred yards of the airport. Guns in hand, Dennison and Harper scrambled out. They could hear the busy drone of the aircraft engine. They saw the aircraft standing outside the hangar. They saw Riff kneeling beside the body of his sister, then they heard a soft whistle to their right. Peering into the darkness, they saw Patrol Officer Benning moving cautiously towards them.

“Benning, sir,” he said to Dennison. “I have Mr. and Mrs. Dermott with me. There’s been shooting. Permission for me to investigate?”

Beyond the patrol officer, Dennison saw Vic and Carrie. He went quickly to them.

“It’s all right,” he said. “This officer will take you to headquarters. There’s nothing for you to worry about now. Your baby’s being taken care of and is waiting for you. You get off. We’ll finish this.” He turned to Benning. “Take Mr. and Mrs. Dermott to headquarters right away.”

Vic said, “There’s a million and a half dollars in a ditch over there.”

Dennison grinned.

“Never mind about the money. You two get back to headquarters. I have an idea they’ll be glad to see you.”

As Benning led Vic and Carrie towards his car, Dennison and Harper started cautiously towards the hangar.

Riff was now walking slowly around Chita’s body. He seemed dazed and appeared not to know what he was doing. He suddenly threw up his arms and howled like a stricken animal. The sound lifted the short hairs on the back of Lancing’s neck.

Dennison and Harper were close now. They covered Riff with their guns. Then Dennison raised his voice in a commanding shout: “Drop your gun and up with your hands!”

Riff spun around. He stared sightlessly into the darkness, then in sudden panic, he turned and ran. He ran blindly into the spinning aircraft propeller that sliced through his head with the precision of a butcher’s cleaver slicing through meat and bone.