James Chase - I Would Rather Stay Poor

She arrived back just after half past six. When she had put the car in the garage, she went into the kitchen to see that Flo had the supper in hand, then satisfied, she went up to her room.

She found Calvin sprawled in an armchair, the ashtray on the table by his side crammed with butts. He stared at her, his blue eyes glittering.

‘Where the hell have you been?’ he snarled. ‘I’ve been waiting and waiting… where have you been?’

She closed the door and walked over to the dressing-table. Sitting down, she began to tidy her hair.

‘When I want you in my room, I’ll invite you,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘Get out!’

‘Where’s Iris?’

She paused, comb in hand and turned to stare at him.

‘I haven’t seen her. Why?’

Calvin rubbed his hand over his face.

‘She knows.’

The comb slipped out of Kit’s hand. It clattered on the polished boards.

‘Knows? Knows what?’

‘She knows you and I killed Alice.’

‘You killed her! I didn’t!’ Kit said, her voice going shrill. She jumped to her feet. ‘How does she know?’

Calvin lit another cigarette. His hands were unsteady.

‘I caught her in the vault. She had found the payroll. I had to stop her mouth… either that or I’d have had to kill her. I told her you and I had pulled the robbery and you are as guilty as I am. That was the only way to stop her running to her boy-friend.’

Kit got slowly to her feet. She walked to the window and stood looking out at the distant hills, her arms tightly folded across her breasts.

Calvin watched her, feeling uneasy. You never knew with an alcoholic. She might blow her top, he thought.

‘It’s all right,’ he went on, his voice soothing. ‘She’s not going to give us away. I’ve talked her into seeing sense.’

‘Get out of here!’ Kit said in a low violent voice. ‘Get out or I’ll kill you!’

‘Now don’t start that nonsense,’ Calvin said irritably. ‘You and I are in this mess together. We’ve…’ He stopped short as she suddenly spun around and made a quick dash to the chest of drawers. He was startled how quickly she moved, but already tense, he was on his feet in a flash and had crossed the room as she wrenched open the drawer. As her hand dipped into the drawer, he caught hold of her wrist. He had a glimpse of the gun as he jerked her away. She struck at him. He caught her flying fist and flung her from him. As he scooped up the gun, she threw herself at him, panting, her eyes glittering, her face chalk-white. Again he shoved her off. She was helpless against his great strength and she went sprawling on the floor. Taking the gun, he backed to the door.

‘Cut it out!’ he snarled.

She lifted herself up on her arm, her white face was ugly with hate.

‘Give me that gun!’ she said, but she didn’t attempt to get to her feet.

‘Shut up!’ Calvin said furiously. ‘Having you around is enough to drive anyone nuts.’ He slid the gun into his hip-pocket. ‘Get up and stop looking at me like that! Go on… get up!’

She got slowly to her feet and crossed to a chair and sat down. She ran her fingers through her hair in a desperate, despairing gesture.

‘Has Iris been in at all?’ Calvin demanded. ‘She left the bank at half past twelve. Did she come home?’

Kit shook her head.

‘Wait here,’ Calvin said, and went down the stairs to Iris’s room. He knocked on the door. Getting no answer, he turned the handle and looked into the room which was empty. He went to the closet and opened it. A quick look inside, a quick look in the drawers of the chest told him she hadn’t taken her clothes. Where was she?

Had she decided to tell Travers? She hadn’t been home now for six hours. What was she doing?

He went back to Kit’s room. Kit was still sitting motionless, her head buried in her hands.

‘I don’t know where she is,’ Calvin said, ‘but if Travers telephones tell him she had a headache and has gone to bed. I’ve got to talk to her before she sees him unless she’s seeing him now.’

Kit didn’t look up. After staring at her for a few seconds, Calvin shrugged and went to his room. He closed the door, then taking the gun from his hip-pocket he was about to put it in a drawer of the chest when he had second thoughts.

He was very uneasy. Had Iris decided to give him away? He thought it was unlikely, but she was young and the decision might have been too much for her. Well, if she had told Travers and if they tried to arrest him, they would have a job on their hands. He wouldn’t be taken alive. He wasn’t going to spend weeks in jail and then be taken like an animal to be slaughtered. He put the gun back in his hip-pocket. If Travers started something, he’d land up with a bellyfull of lead.

He washed his face and hands. The time was now close on seven-fifteen. He forced himself to sit down. He lit a cigarette and tried to relax, but he was too tense. He immediately got to his feet and began to prowl around the room.

He heard Kit go downstairs. He waited a moment, then went out and leaned over the banister rail. He heard Kit talking to Flo. He rested his thick arms on the banister rail and listened.

Suddenly he heard the telephone bell ring. The sound sent a wave of hot blood up his spine. There was a delay, then he heard Kit say, ‘Iris has gone to bed. She has a headache.’ There was a pause, then she said, ‘She has a headache,’ and he heard the receiver drop back on its cradle.

He drew in a long, slow breath of relief. That would be Travers. At least Iris hadn’t contacted him. But where was she?

As he looked down the two flights of stairs into the hall, he suddenly saw Iris. She came in silently, took off her coat and hung it on the hall rack, then slowly she began to mount the stairs.

Calvin drew back. He listened. When he heard her enter her room, he moved quickly and quietly down the stairs and paused outside her door. He could hear Flo saying good night. He heard the click of the back door as Flo left. He still waited. He heard Kit begin to put the finishing touches to the dinner, then he gently turned the door handle and entered Iris’s room.

Iris was standing, her back to him, looking out of the window. She glanced over her shoulder as he came in and she stiffened. She turned swiftly to face him.

‘What do you want?’ she demanded, her voice shaky. He could see she had been crying. Her face was white and drawn. ‘I don’t want you in here!’

He closed the door and leaned against it.

‘Have you made up your mind what you are going to do?’ he asked. ‘Kit knows. I told her. Our lives are in your hands. Are you going to help us?’

‘I don’t know,’ Iris said. ‘I must talk to Kit. Please go away.’

Calvin studied her, then he nodded.

‘Yes… you talk to her, but remember this: she’s as guilty as I am. Give me away and you give her away. Just remember that.’

He went out of the room and back to his own room.

At eight o’clock, the dinner bell sounded, and Calvin went downstairs. The meal was set on hot plates on the sideboard. Neither Iris nor Kit made an appearance. Calvin served the old couple, chatting to them, telling them that Iris had a headache, probably due to the change in her work, and all the time he talked, he listened for sounds that would tell him what was happening upstairs, but he heard nothing.

In her room Kit took from the closet a bottle of whisky and poured herself a stiff drink. She drank the whisky, then poured another drink. She lit a cigarette and then moved to the armchair and sat down, still holding the bottle of whisky. As she began to relax and as she was deciding to have another drink, the door opened and Iris came in.