Джеймс Чейз - You Never Know With Women

“All right. It’s a little stiff, but it’s nothing.”

I sat on the edge of the bunk while she undressed. She had a beautiful little figure, and even with Max on my mind, I got a buzz from her.

“What happened at his place?” she asked as she slipped her nightdress over her head. As the flimsy garment fell about her body a lot of glamour went out of the room.

“There was nothing to it. The old girl was a rummy. I fed her Scotch and she passed out. The note was under his pillow. It was loaded with dynamite. I burned it.”

“Would she know you again?”

“I don’t know. She was pretty far gone. Maybe not.”

She slid into the lower bunk.

“What are we going to do with him?”

We spoke in whispers so he couldn’t hear. The atmosphere in the shack had changed now. It was no longer like home. With him out there, it was just another hide-out.

“Keep him here. What else can we do?”

“He knows you’re growing a moustache.”

She stared at me, her eyes frozen, the muscle in her cheek twitched.

“We’ll have to watch him all the time. He’s spoilt everything, hasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

I began to undress.

“Mick would kill him if this was happening to him. He doesn’t deserve any better; coming up here, trying to blackmail us. He would have skinned us if it hadn’t been for you.”

She looked away.

“No one would know.”

“That’s right.”

There was a silence until I climbed up into the top bunk, then as I leaned out to snuff the candle, she said: “It would be the safest thing for us. He frightens me, Floyd.”

“Yeah, but we must get the idea out of our heads.”

“Yes.”

I reached down and took her hand. It felt dry and cold in mine.

“Don’t think about it. There’s nothing we can do. It won’t be long now: a week at the most. Then we’ll go.”

“He’ll tell the police. They think we’re in Mexico. As soon as he tells them we were here, they’ll start after us again.”

She was right, of course.

“Maybe we’d better take him with us. We might get to Mexico. Then we could turn him loose.”

“You don’t mean that, do you? You wouldn’t ever be able to prove you didn’t kill Brett.”

I thought about that. If the police knew we were still in the State, there’d be no hope of going after Gorman.

“That’s right.” I suddenly wanted to have her close to me. “Would you like to come up here with me?”

“Not now. My side aches a little. Tomorrow night, darling.”

“All right.”

I stared into the darkness, feeling alone. It was as if we’d been walking along a path together and suddenly come up against an impassable barrier. We could hear Max twisting and turning in the other room, trying to make himself comfortable. Once he groaned. I felt no pity for him.

“I wouldn’t want to live in Mexico all my life,” Veda said suddenly.

“You wouldn’t have to. A year would do it.”

“A year’s too long. You’d never be able to pick up the threads again. If you waited as long as that you’d have no hope of proving Gorman killed Brett.”

“We’re in a nice jam, aren’t we? I didn’t kill Brett, but they think I did. By killing Max I could prove I didn’t kill Brett; but where does that get me? I’m trying to prove I’m not a murderer; the only way I can do it is to become one. A sweet jam. All right, suppose I kill him. You and I will know, even if no one else does. We have to live with each other, and knowing I killed him would make a difference. We might not think so at first, but it would.”

“Yes; you mustn’t kill him.”

That brought us to where we had come in. A full circle, and no solution.

“Maybe we’ll think of a way.”

“He might get ill and die.”

“That’s a pipe dream. He looks good for another forty years.”

“Yes. Maybe he’ll have an accident.”

“Not him. He’s the careful type. No, I guess we can’t think along those lines.”

Max began to snore.

“He’s not worrying. He knows he’s safe enough.” Her voice was bitter.

“Try to sleep. We could go on like this all night.”

“Yes.”

I lay in the darkness and racked my brains for a way out of the mess, but there wasn’t one. If we let him go, he’d betray us for the reward. If we kept him here, we should have to watch him the whole time, and any moment he might surprise us. If we packed up and left him here, it would only be a day or so before the police would be after us. The problem went on and on in my brain; a treadmill of despair. I heard Veda crying softly to herself, and I hadn’t the heart to comfort her. The darkness was thick and airless. Max’s uneasy snores tormented me, and when I did fall asleep I dreamed that Veda turned against me and was in league with Max. Every time I looked at them they were smirking at me, and it was I who lay on the sacks in the outer room, and Max and Veda were together in the inner room. And I lay in the darkness and heard them whispering to each other, and I knew they were planning to kill me.

I woke suddenly, cold and uneasy, and stared into the darkness. My heart was beating rapidly, and because I couldn’t hear Max snoring I was scared. I put my hand down to touch Veda, but my fingers moved into the little hollow where her head had rested and felt the warmth of an empty pillow. I remained still, feeling blood moving through my body in a cold surging wave.

“Veda?” I called softly and sat up. “Are you there?”

As I listened, I heard a movement in the other room. I slipped out of the bunk, groped frantically for the flashlight I kept under my pillow. I turned the beam on the lower bunk: it was empty. A board creaked outside as I jumped for my gun. The door leading to the outer room was shut. It had been ajar when we had gone to bed. I stood listening, the gun in my fist, the beam of the flashlight on the door. I saw the latch lift, and the door began to open. As I thumbed back the safety catch, the hair on the nape of my neck bristled.

Veda came in.

“What’s the matter? What are you doing?” My voice croaked.

She didn’t say anything, and came slowly towards me, her arms hanging limply at her sides. She seemed to float, rather than walk, and in her flimsy white nightdress she looked like a ghost.

She moved into the beam of the light and I saw her eyes were closed. She was walking in her sleep. The serene death-in-life of her face, the mystery of the sleeping body, moving in unconscious obedience to her dreaming mind made me start back. I could hear her gentle breathing. She looked very beautiful: more beautiful than I’d even seen her look before. She passed me, slipped into the bunk and laid down. For some moments I stood looking at her, then I went over to her and covered her gently. My hands were shaking and my heart banged against my ribs.

“It’s all right now, darling,” she said in a drowsy murmur. “We don’t have to worry any more.”

If I had been cold before, I turned like ice now, and as I went to the door my legs buckled. There was no sound coming from the outer room. I stood listening, afraid to go in, hearing the wind against the shack and stirring the trees outside. Then with an unsteady hand I threw the beam of the flashlight across the room on to Max.

He lay on his back in a puddle of blood that welled up from a red stain above his heart. In the middle of the stain something short and black was growing.

As if breasting a gale, I struggled over to him. She had driven a knife through his heart. He looked serene and happy. He had gone in his sleep, and I knew by the look on his face that death had been quick and easy for him.

I don’t know how long. I stood staring at him, but it was some time. This was murder! If they ever found him there’d be no chance for me unless I told them Veda had done it in her sleep; and who would believe me? She and I were alone with him. If I didn’t kill him, then she did. It was the kind of set-up Redfern would love. But she hadn’t murdered him! Even now she didn’t know he was dead. Maybe her hand had struck the blow, but that didn’t mean she had murdered him. It came to me then that I couldn’t tell her what she had done. I loved her too much to make her suffer as she would suffer if she knew. There was a chance I could get him away and bury him before she woke. I could tell her he escaped. I could tell her anything so long as it wasn’t the truth.