James Chase - I Would Rather Stay Poor

Iris’s heart sank.

‘No, thanks. It’s personal. Do you know when he will be back?’

‘Can’t say I do. Not until five o’clock, if then. Shall I tell him you called?’

‘No, don’t do that. It’s nothing important. I was just wondering if he was working this afternoon.’

‘He’s working all right,’ the sheriff said, his voice suddenly gloomy. ‘So am I. We’re trying to catch this bank robber. Come to that, how are you enjoying being a bank clerk?’

‘I like it fine,’ Iris said, trying to make her voice sound as if she meant what she was saying. ‘Well, thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ the sheriff said and hung up.

Iris replaced the receiver. She told herself she couldn’t miss this opportunity. If Ken couldn’t help her, then she would have to search the bank on her own. What a triumph for her, she thought, as well as for Ken, if she found the money!

She looked at her watch. It was now five minutes to twelve. She got off her stool and went to the bank door. The main street as usually happened on a Saturday morning was deserted. She stood by the door waiting for the church clock to strike the hour. It seemed a long wait. When finally, the mellow notes of the bell began to strike, she quickly shut the door and locked it.

With a sudden urgent feeling of panic, she went into Calvin’s office and looked through the unlocked drawers of his desk. She found nothing to interest her. There was a steel filing cabinet against the wall. This was also unlocked and contained only papers relating to the bank’s affairs. She paused to look around the room. There was no other place of concealment so she went down the passage into the men’s washroom. A quick glance around the room told her here again there were no places of concealment.

If the money was anywhere, it had to be in the vault.

She took the keys Calvin had given her from her skirt pocket and went down the stairs to the vault door. She unlocked the two locks, pushed open the door and turned on the light.

She paused in the doorway, looking around at the deed boxes that were stacked along the three walls to the ceiling. The fourth wall was occupied by the safe. This she had no interest in as she had been with Calvin when he had opened the safe. It contained only the bank ledgers and cash taken at the end of the day.

She decided if the money was anywhere it would be in one of the deed boxes. She suddenly realised what a shrewd idea it would be to hide the money in one of these boxes. She put a stool against a pile of deed boxes and climbing onto the stool, she lifted down the top box. It was locked.

She tried the second box without moving it and found that too was locked. She remembered seeing a bunch of keys in Calvin’s desk drawer. Maybe, she thought, there was a master key among the keys which would open all the boxes.

She went back to Calvin’s office just as Calvin came silently into the bank, using the unlocked back door. He heard her in his office and he waited, breathing gently through his thick nostrils, his fleshy face hard and his blue eyes glittering. He heard her leave his office and he peered around the corner of the wall and watched her walk down into the vault. He closed the door, turned the lock and slid the bolts home. Then moving like a shadow, he entered his office, put his briefcase on the desk and took off his hat and coat. Unconsciously, he hummed softly under his breath. He stood by his desk, listening. He heard Iris moving the deed boxes, dumping them down on the floor, the clash of steel against steel coming clearly to him.

He rubbed his fleshy jaw with his thick fingers and his mouth set into a cruel, satisfied grin. This would be the showdown, he told himself. It was time. This girl was becoming a nuisance: not only a nuisance, she was dangerous.

He moved silently out of his office and headed for the vault.

In the vault, Iris had found the master key that opened the deed boxes. She had opened three of the boxes and was preparing to open the fourth. This was only full of documents and she continued with her task until she came to the last box of the stack. She turned the lock and lifted the lid and caught her breath sharply. In the box, neatly packeted, were packets of fifty-dollar bills. She had never seen so much money. As she stared at this money, she knew she had found the stolen payroll. She knelt, careless of her nylon stockings, staring down at the contents of the box, her heart beating wildly.

Calvin stood on the top step leading into the vault and watched her. All he could see of her was her rounded hips as she squatted, her narrow shoulders and her blonde hair. He moved silently down two more steps and shut the door to the vault. As the door closed, the catch of the lock made a sharp click… a sound in the silent vault that was as loud as the snap of a mouse-trap.

Iris jerked around. At the sight of Calvin, her body froze into motionless terror. They looked at each other. Calvin smiled his charming smile. Her terror excited him. Looking at her, he thought how much prettier, how much more desirable this girl was compared to Kit.

‘Congratulations,’ he said. ‘Now, I suppose you’ll begin planning how you will spend the reward?’

Iris could only stare at him. She could scarcely breathe. She knew it would be useless to scream, and she fought down the scream that rose in her throat. Down in the vault no cry for help could possibly be heard.

‘For your information,’ Calvin said, ‘the famous typewriter is in the deed box to your right and the famous fawn overcoat that I wore when playing the role of Johnny Acres is in the box next to it.’

He moved down two more steps and then paused.

Before she could stop herself, Iris jerked out, ‘Don’t touch me!’

Calvin’s smile widened. He looked very handsome and sure of himself as he looked towards her.

‘My dear girl, why on earth should I touch you?’ he asked. ‘You mustn’t be frightened of me.’

Iris wasn’t deceived by this chilling charm. She backed away until she pressed against the steel wall of the deed boxes.

‘We’ll have to talk about this, won’t we?’ Calvin said. He stooped to pull a deed box towards him, then he sat on it. ‘You may think this is simple, but it isn’t. Nothing is ever simple.’ He took out a pack of cigarettes and shook a cigarette into his large hand. He lit the cigarette, squinting slightly through the smoke as he watched the girl’s white, frightened face. ‘Everyone is under the impression that Alice helped the mysterious Mr. Acres steal the payroll. She didn’t.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Does Travers think I am Johnny Acres?’

Hypnotised by the quiet, deadly voice, Iris could only nod.

‘I thought he had got onto me,’ Calvin said. ‘He’s a bright boy… he’ll go far… with luck. You, of course, are working with him? You both imagine you are going to collect the reward, send me to the gas chamber, then live happily ever after. That’s the idea, isn’t it?’

Iris didn’t say anything. She had a horrible feeling she was very close to a violent death. The sight of this fleshy-faced man as he sat calmly staring at her, knowing he had murdered Alice, knowing she was now trapped in the vault with him turned her sick with terror.

‘I don’t think it is going to work out that way,’ Calvin said. ‘As a matter of fact, I knew what you were up to. I knew you wanted a carbon of one of the bank letters to give to Travers. I knew you were suspicious about the typewriter. That yarn I told you that I had to go to ’Frisco was so much blah. I wanted to catch you red-handed… I have.’

Still Iris couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

‘Well, now we know the facts: you’re spying for Travers and I am a bank robber, so let’s get down to negotiations,’ Calvin said, flicking ash from his cigarette. He glanced at his wrist watch. The time was twenty minutes past twelve. He wondered if Travers was expecting Iris. It would be awkward if Travers came over to see what was keeping her. There was still time, but he mustn’t waste it. ‘I think you can help me. I want to get this money out of Pittsville. You probably know the police are searching every car, checking all parcels and baggage that leaves here. It occurred to me that being the fiancée of the deputy sheriff, you could get the money out of Pittsville for me.’