James Chase - I Would Rather Stay Poor

Looking dazed, the sheriff got into his car and Travers got in beside him.

‘We’ll go to Mrs. Loring’s place,’ Travers said, ‘and step on it. Calvin could run for it.’

‘He has Easton with him,’ the sheriff pointed out, sending the car shooting towards the highway.

‘He’s dangerous. If Easton isn’t on to him…’

‘What is all this?’ the sheriff asked, bewildered. ‘What makes you think Calvin is our man?’

Travers told him.

Easton slowed the car as they approached the road block.

‘Watch it!’ Calvin said, his voice vicious. ‘You get me through and you’ll be okay, but start something and it’ll be the last thing you do start.’

Easton pulled up as one of the policemen moved towards him. Recognising him, the policeman tossed him a casual salute. He turned and waved to the other two officers who lifted aside the wooden pole barring the road.

‘Get going!’ Calvin said. ‘Step on it! Don’t give them a chance to talk to you!’

Aware of the gun grinding into his side, his face white, sweat running into his eyes, Easton shoved his foot down hard on the gas pedal and the car surged forward. The policeman had to jump aside or Easton would have hit him. Calvin waved to the policeman as the car swept forward and stormed past the road block and out onto the open road.

I’m through! Calvin thought with a feeling of wild triumph. He looked back. The policemen were staring after them, but they made no move to come after the speeding car.

Easton was thinking: now what’s going to happen? He must be out of his mind if he thinks he’ll get away with this. But what’s going to happen to me? He’s already killed the girl. Why shouldn’t he kill me?

Calvin removed the gun from Easton’s side.

‘Keep going,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think it was going to be that easy.’ He again looked back over his shoulder. There was no sign of any cop on a motorcycle. He relaxed, and shoving the gun under his thigh, he took out a pack of cigarettes. ‘About a couple of miles further ahead, there is a side road to Bellmore. Take that.’

Easton flinched. He knew that road. It twisted up a hill for a mile or so, then went through a thick forest. During the week-ends it was crowded with picnickers, but for the rest of the week it was deserted.

He’ll kill me there, he thought. That’s what he aims to do.

‘We’ll stop there,’ Calvin said as if reading his thoughts, and you can get out and walk back. That’ll give me an hour’s start. That’s all I’ll need.’

Easton knew he was lying. Although he had a gun in a shoulder holster, he knew he wasn’t quick enough to get it out and kill Calvin before Calvin killed him. He had never been any good at drawing a gun. Up to now, he had taken care never to get himself into a position where he need draw a gun.

Calvin watched him. He saw the agony of fear on the fat face.

He knows I’m going to kill him, he thought. He’s certain to be carrying a gun. I’ll have to give it to him as soon as he stops the car. I can’t risk letting him get out.

‘Here we are,’ he said as the side road came into sight. He lifted the gun and poked Easton with it.

Easton spun the wheel and shot the car along the narrow dusty road. Again Calvin looked back, but there was no one to see them turn off the highway.

That’s luck, he thought, if they do come after me, they’ll think I’ve gone to Merlin Bay. Once I get rid of this punk, I’ll head for that air-taxi field at Bellmore. Once I get to ’Frisco, I’ll lose myself.

Easton saw the forest ahead of him.

I’ve got to take a chance, he thought. He won’t shoot until I’ve stopped the car. My only chance is to wreck the car. I’ll be braced by the wheel. With any luck he’ll crack his head on the windshield.

‘Take it easy,’ Calvin said. ‘We’ll stop at the top of the hill.’

With, his heart hammering, Easton peered into the driving mirror.

‘We’ve got company,’ he said hoarsely.

Calvin jerked around to look through the rear window. Easton, panting, swung the wheel and drove off the road straight towards a fir tree. They were travelling at over fifty miles an hour. Instinctively, Easton braked a split second before the car hit.

Feeling the car swerve, Calvin turned his head. His finger tightened automatically on the trigger of the gun as he glimpsed the car about to crash. The gun went off as the car smashed into the tree.

Calvin felt a jolting shock. He was faintly aware of a rendering sound of crushing steel, then he blacked out.

Travers said, ‘Well, that’s it, Sheriff. That’s why I resigned. I couldn’t send Iris’s mother to the gas chamber and that’s what it would have meant. But now she’s dead… it’s different. I can go after Calvin.’

The sheriff drove in silence for some moments. His mind, still slightly stunned by what Travers had told him, slowly considered what to do. Finally, he said, ‘Yeah… well, this is between you and me, Ken, but if it got out, you could be in trouble. I’d do my best for you, but you’ve stuck your neck out for an accessory rap.’

‘Don’t I know it,’ Travers said. ‘I’ll have to take a chance on it. Hey! Stop! This guy may have seen them.’

There was a patrol officer on a motorcycle coming towards them. As the sheriff pulled up and waved, the officer swung his machine alongside the car.

‘We’re looking for a white Mercury,’ Travers said. ‘Mr. Easton was driving. Has it passed you?’

‘Yeah,’ the officer said. ‘Passed me about ten minutes ago on the Merlin Bay road.’

‘Merlin Bay?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Thanks.’

As the sheriff engaged gear, Travers said, ‘There’s a road block three miles ahead. He’s probably using Easton to get him through. That means he’s trying to get out with the payroll.’

The sheriff grunted and shoved the gas pedal to the boards.

Four minutes later, they pulled up at the road block. The two officers said the Mercury had gone through ten minutes ago.

‘Went through like a bat out of hell,’ one of them said, scowling. ‘Mr. Easton looked like he was ill. As soon as the pole was up, he charged through without saying a word to us. What gives?’

‘Could be trouble,’ the sheriff said. ‘Let us through, Jack. We’re in a hurry.’

Shrugging, the patrol officer signalled to his buddy to pull up the pole.

Travers said, ‘Let me drive, will you, Sheriff? I know this car better than you do.’

‘What you’re trying to say,’ the sheriff said, his voice frosty, ‘is you think you can drive faster than I can. Well, son, I don’t agree.’

With that, he trod on the gas pedal and sent the car roaring down the highway until it built up a speed of a shuddering eighty miles an hour.

‘Take it easy!’ Travers bawled above the roar of the engine, ‘you’ll break the poor old girl’s back!’

The sheriff grinned stiffly and kept up the speed. They had gone some miles when Travers suddenly shouted, ‘Slow up! Look at that!’

The sheriff braked.

‘Look at what?’ he asked, staring ahead.

‘To your right. Look at that dust settling. A car’s been up there recently. It’s the short cut to the Bellmore airfield,’ Travers said. ‘It’s my bet they’ve turned off there.’

The sheriff pulled up and leaned out of the window. He surveyed the faint cloud of dust that was slowly settling on the dirt road and he nodded.

‘Could be you’re right. Shall we try it?’

‘Yeah, but take it slow.’

Five minutes later they reached the forest: a minute later they saw the wreck of the Mercury. The sheriff pulled up.