James Chase - I Would Rather Stay Poor

‘Don’t rush it,’ Travers said sharply. ‘Look, you stay here. I’ll check. This guy’s dangerous.’

‘What do you mean… I stay here! I’m the sheriff, aren’t I? Give me my gun!’

‘I’m handling this. I want the reward,’ Travers said and forced a grin. He pulled out the sheriff’s gun from his trousers’ band and got out. ‘Anything happen to me, you get the boys up here.’

He walked slowly towards the wrecked car. As he got closer he could see the lid of the boot was open. Then he saw a huddled figure sprawled over the steering wheel. He moved closer, his gun raised. He looked to right and then to left, then signalled to the sheriff.

The sheriff, muttering to himself, got out of the car and joined him.

‘Easton… dead,’ Travers said.

Not fifty yards from them, Calvin lay hidden in a thicket. By his side was the suitcase containing the payroll. He was bleeding from a long gash down his face. His right leg was broken. His left arm was dislocated. He was only semi-conscious. How he had got himself out of the wreck, got around to the boot, forced it open, taken the suitcase containing the payroll and then dragged himself into the thicket he would never know.

He watched the two men carry Easton’s lifeless body from the car and lay it on the ground. He watched Travers kneel beside the body while the sheriff stood by him, tugging at his moustache.

He looked from the two men to the sheriff’s car that stood some twenty yards from the thicket in which he was hiding. Could he drive it if he could grab it? he asked himself. It was his only hope of escape. It should be possible even with his broken leg. He had only to use the gas pedal. He could steer with one hand. But where to go? The airfield was out. He couldn’t arrive there in his condition. Maybe he could find some place… a farm… somewhere to hole up until the leg healed. With all his money, he should be able to buy his freedom.

It would mean shooting both the sheriff and Travers, but that didn’t worry him. There was no other way out if he was to get away.

Travers, squatting on his heels besides Easton’s body, suddenly stiffened. His keen eyes had seen that to the right of him the coarse grass was flattened. From the angle he was looking, he could see a path had been made through the grass as if something heavy had been dragged across it. He could see the path led directly to a thicket of shrubs.

Without looking at the sheriff, he said, ‘Calvin’s right with us. I think he’s hiding in that thicket to your left. Don’t look. He may be armed.’

‘Easton got a gun?’ the sheriff asked.

‘He should have.’

Travers moved his body slightly so it screened Easton from the thicket. He opened Easton’s coat, found the .45 still in its holster and pulled it out. The sheriff squatted beside him. Travers slid the gun to him. Both men felt naked squatting here with their backs to the thicket.

‘Don’t rush it,’ the sheriff said. ‘We’ll get around the other side of the car. You go right. I’ll go left.’

They stood up.

Calvin raised his gun. His hand was very unsteady. He saw the two men rise and separate: each moving around the Mercury. He was suddenly sure they knew where he was. The sheriff was nearest to him and he quickly shifted his aim from Travers to the sheriff and squeezed the trigger.

The gun went off with a choked bang. The sheriff lurched forward and flattened face down on the grass. Travers jumped around the Mercury and knelt.

Calvin cursed. He couldn’t see Travers now. Well, at least it was one against one, but Travers could move where he liked and Calvin couldn’t.

Travers waited, restraining the impulse to go to the sheriff. He knew he would be a dead duck the moment he showed himself.

Very softly, he heard the sheriff say, ‘I’m okay. A close miss, but he didn’t get me.’

Travers drew in a long, deep breath.

‘Stay where you are and don’t move,’ he said in a forced whisper. ‘I’ll try to get him from the rear.’

He began to crawl backwards, keeping the wrecked Mercury between himself and the thicket.

Calvin had a sudden premonition he wasn’t going to get out of this trap. He thought of Kit.

You were a fool to have hooked up with her, he told himself, but maybe she was right. I should have stayed poor.

He looked at the suitcase lying by his side. Three hundred thousand dollars! He would never spend even a dollar of that fortune now… not even a dollar!

He thought of Alice. Maybe she was better off dead. He felt no remorse for her death. What would her life have been anyway? he asked himself.

He heard a faint crack of a breaking stick somewhere behind him. He turned his head. He saw Travers about twenty yards from him, coming out of the forest, moving slowly and cautiously, gun in hand.

Calvin snarled. He tried to turn but the pain in his leg made him feel faint.

Travers could walk right up to him and kill him like a mad dog. He couldn’t get his gun around to bear on Travers.

Why wait?

Kit had taken the quick way out. She said he would follow her.

As Travers moved slowly forward, there was a sudden bang of a gun. He saw Calvin’s massive body rear up and then flop back. A wisp of gun-smoke curled out of the thicket.

He paused, then seeing the sheriff get to his feet, he walked quickly towards the thicket.