Росс Макдональд - Meet Me at the Morgue

“But I couldn’t let them catch me with it on me. I took it out of the suitcase and made a parcel out of it and addressed it down here. One thing, I forgot my pen but Lemp had a pen in his pocket. I took the rest of his stuff and buried it in the sand behind the billboard. Then I walked back to the express office and sent off the money to myself. I didn’t know they were going to put me in jail. I thought I could get away on Saturday or Sunday and be down here long before the money got here. But first I figured I needed some kind of an alibi. I had to have a reason for being in town Saturday morning.”

“So you came to me,” I said. “You’re a good actress, Amy.”

“I always wanted to be one. Only I wasn’t putting it on when I talked to you Saturday morning. I was worried about Fred, that they might shoot him. I had to find out how much he said to you. And I knew if he came back before I could get away, and caught on to the lies I told him – well, I was really worried, and I had a terrible letdown after I killed Art Lemp. The sun wasn’t brighter like I thought it was going to be. It was darker. I could hardly see for a while. I guess I would have gone right off my rocker if I hadn’t kept holding on to the thought of the money.”

Her eyes brooded heavily on the torn parcel lying across my knees. She forced herself to look away from it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cross,” she said woodenly. “You were a good friend to me, and you were too, Mrs. Johnson. I didn’t mean to do bad things to you. I just got caught, through my own fault in the first place. I couldn’t see any other way out. Then, when I saw my chance to get that money and keep it for myself – I went for it. That’s the whole story.”

But she looked around the room as if her story didn’t satisfy her, as if its final meaning had been omitted. The room was still and waiting.

“I’ll never be anybody now,” she said. “They’re both dead, Fred and Kerry both. I haven’t got anybody left to love me. I’ll never get to have a baby of my own.”

She had tears left after all. Helen comforted her. Her father watched her from the dim security of the armchair. After a while she ran out of grief, and Sam took her out to the radio car. He was gentle with her, but the handcuffs stayed on.

Helen came up to me on the sidewalk. “Drive me home, Howard, please. I’m afraid I’m exhausted.”

“You don’t have to say please to me.”

“I don’t mind saying please to you.”

She fumbled in her bag for the car keys.

“I have the other set,” I said. “I held on to them yesterday.”

“I know you did.”

We drove out through the sprawling suburbs, keeping the radio car in sight. The highway gradually curved back to the sea. The sea flowed backward through the rushing twilight like a broad white river on our left.

“I got your message,” I said. “No hard feelings?”

“I’m not proud. I can’t afford to be proud. I’ve lost so much.”

“I have so much to gain.”

“You hurt me yesterday, Howard.”

“I was hurt, too. The difference is that it wasn’t you who hurt me.”

“We’ll forget it,” she said. “But you mustn’t ever mistrust me again.”

Her body lay away from me in the seat like a mysterious country I had dreamed of all my life.

“I suppose I should feel guilty about your money and about your husband.”

“No. It’s entirely my problem. I’ve been thinking it out.”

“Already?”

“We’re old enough to tell each other the truth. I fell in love with you yesterday, when we quarreled. When I saw that you were falling in love with me. I gave six years of my life to Abel. I’m being repaid in a way, but it doesn’t mean I have to give him all the rest of my life. He lived as he chose, and died as he chose. Most of the money goes into a trust for Jamie, anyway.”

“I want the rest of your life. And I don’t feel guilty. I never will.”

“I’m glad. Of course we’ll have to wait.”

“I can wait.”

Her hand touched my shoulder, lightly.