James Chase - I Would Rather Stay Poor

He unlocked the door, entered and relocked the door.

Phew! he thought. That was close… too close!

He set down the hold-all and walked quickly behind the counter to where the Remington typewriter stood. He picked it up and carried it down to the vault. It took him over a quarter of an hour to find a deed box that contained only a few papers. Into this deed box, he put the typewriter. He went up the stairs and took the portable out of its case. He set the machine on the felt mat where the Remington had stood.

He then emptied the mail box and taking the mail into his office, he began to work.

A few minutes to nine o’clock, Iris arrived. As Calvin opened the door and let her in, she gave him an uncertain smile.

She had slept badly. Although she had tried to put out of her mind Ken’s insinuations, the more she thought about what he had said as she had tossed and turned in the darkness, the more she realised that he had something of a case against Calvin.

‘You’re early,’ she said, trying to sound casual. ‘Flo told me you had already begun work. Why didn’t you call me?’

‘It’s my hard luck I had to start early… not yours. The auditors will be here in a few minutes. Come and help me with the mail.’

As she followed him into his office, she saw the portable typewriter standing on the counter. Involuntarily, she stopped short to stare at it. Calvin paused, watching her. He saw her stiffen as she continued to stare at the typewriter. He became instantly alert. What’s going on in her mind? he asked himself. Has Travers told her about the Remington? Has he told her to spy on me? Does he suspect that I am Acres? He could do. Why did he ask me what typewriter we use here if he wasn’t suspicious?

He said, ‘Not much of a machine, is it? It’s the best I can do for you. I’ve already asked the powers-that-be for something better, but so far it hasn’t been forthcoming.’

Iris dragged her eyes away from the typewriter. She forced herself to remain calm. She could see the portable didn’t fit the felt mat which was obviously designed for a much larger machine.

‘Oh, I’ll manage,’ she said. ‘I like the touch of a portable. Kit has one. I often use it.’

‘You do? Then you’ll be happy with this one. Well, come on: let’s see what’s in the mail.’

Iris resisted the impulse to go to the machine and examine it. It looked vaguely familiar, but she was aware that Calvin was watching her. His blue eyes were as expressionless and as hard as glass.

They entered the office as a rap came on the bank door.

‘There are the auditors,’ Calvin said. ‘I’ll let them in.’

The two auditors entered, exchanged greetings with Calvin and nodded to Iris.

For the next hour. Iris was kept busy discovering banking procedure which Calvin explained to her with a patience that surprised her.

A little after ten o’clock, the first customer came in and Calvin went to serve him.

Left on her own, Iris crossed over to the portable typewriter. She had the excuse to use the machine as Calvin, during the past hour, had dictated several letters. She sat on the high stool, uneasily aware that only some forty hours ago, Alice had also sat on this stool. She looked at the machine and a sudden chill ran through her.

This Was Kit’s typewriter! She recognised it at once. There was a deep scratch on the metal casing and two of the keys had turned slightly yellow. It was unmistakable.

Her mind confused, her heart thumping, she somehow managed to type the letters. Her eyes kept going to the large felt mat on which the typewriter was standing. She could see the deep impression of the feet of another and bigger machine embedded in the felt.

It wasn’t until close on twelve o’clock, that Calvin had the chance to speak to her alone. He had been continuously busy with various customers and the auditors. Now, he came over to her to take the letters she had ready for him.

‘How are you getting along?’ he asked. ‘Are you liking the job?’

‘Yes… of course.’ Iris tried to meet the staring blue eyes, but couldn’t. To cover her confusion, she slid off the stool and moved away from him.

I’ve got to watch her, Calvin thought. She’s turning hostile. She must have recognised the machine. Damn it! I should have thought of that. If Travers has set her to spy on me, this could be dangerous.

‘Are you going home to lunch?’ he asked as the two auditors left the bank. ‘I usually go across the road. It’s not bad. Care to join me?’

‘I’ll go home,’ Iris said quickly. ‘Thanks all the same. It’ll only take me ten minutes on the bus.’

‘Please yourself. I’ll lock up. You get off.’

Iris went into the washroom and put on her coat. On the glass shelf above the toilet basin was a box of tissues and a tube of face cream that had belonged to Alice. She looked at these two symbols that represented a memory of the dead girl and she shivered. Hurriedly, she left the washroom, anxious to leave the bank and not remain alone with Calvin. The bank door was already locked. Calvin was standing in his office doorway, waiting. Iris felt a cold, restricting pressure around her heart as the blue, uncanny eyes moved over her.

She paused, and they looked at each other, then Calvin switched on his charm, but for the first time, Iris felt afraid of him.

‘If you would like to borrow my car to get home, do use it,’ Calvin said.

‘I — I won’t, thank you. I don’t like driving other people’s cars.’ She moved to the door. Not waiting for him to unlock the door, she turned the key, jerked open the door and walked quickly down the path.

Calvin watched her go. His fleshy face set into a snarling mask.

Iris felt a surge of relief run through her as she saw Ken Travers come out of the sheriff’s office and start towards her. She had to restrain herself from breaking into a run. During the brief interval before they came face to face, she had regained her composure.

‘Why, Ken… you’re always turning up,’ she said, smiling at him. ‘Don’t say you have a free hour?’

He slid his arm around her and unmindful of the people passing, he kissed her.

‘I’ve been waiting for you, honey,’ he said. ‘The old man says it’s okay for me to buy you lunch.’

‘Why, that’s wonderful! I was going home.’

‘Let’s go across the road. The food there isn’t so lousy.’

Remembering that Calvin had said he lunched at this restaurant, Iris said sharply, ‘No… let’s go some place else. Anywhere, but there.’

Travers looked at her, his eyebrows lifting. He could see she was upset about something, and slipping his arm through hers, he steered her towards his car.

‘Okay: there’s a joint I know… it’s not bad: not as good as this one, but it’ll do.’

They said nothing until they reached the car and got in, then as Travers started the engine, Iris said, breathlessly, ‘I’m sorry, Ken, about last night. I now think you are right about Calvin.’

Travers looked sharply at her.

‘What’s happened to make you change your mind?’

Iris told him about the portable typewriter.

‘It belongs to Kit,’ she concluded. ‘I used it only the other day. It is standing on a mat much too large for it. You can see the impression on the mat of a standard machine.’

Travers was very alert now. He remembered the hold-all Calvin had been carrying.

‘Now, at last, we’re getting somewhere! I asked him this morning what machine the bank used. He said the Smith Corona portable was at the bank when he came. We’ve caught him out in his first lie! He knew about the machine because he was at the meeting last night and we tipped him off! The Remington must still be in the bank. He hasn’t had a chance of getting rid of it. Any idea where he could have hidden it?’