I Would Rather Stay Poor (11 page)

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Authors: James Hadley Chase

BOOK: I Would Rather Stay Poor
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As he sat smoking, he began to talk silently to himself.
‘This woman is neurotic and dangerous, I’ve got to use her, but once I have the money, what am I going to do about her? I have to have her now to impersonate Alice. I still have to have her to provide a reasonable excuse as to why we are both leaving town and more important still, why I am resigning from the bank. Without the money from
th
e sale of the house, the Federal agents will wonder how I could afford to resign. Now wait a minute

let me think about this. Do I really need her for that? Suppose, after she has impersonated Alice, I get rid of her? Suppose someone offered me a good job, and as I’m getting nowhere in the bank, I decide to make a change. That would be an acceptable reason for resigning, but what if they check? I can’t risk a bluff

someone will have to offer me a good job

but who?’
He sat for some minutes, his mind busy.
‘Marvin Godwin

he owes me plenty. I was going to use him anyway in the original plan. His gambling joint at Las Vegas is a perfect cover for me to appear to make money. He’d fix it, but he would guess something was up

that doesn’t matter. If the Federal agents keep track of me

and they might

I could prove through Godwin that I had won a lot of money. As soon as they lost interest in me, I could leave Las Vegas and drop out of sight. Working in this way, I won’t need Kit once she has impersonated Alice. From the start of this thing, I had an idea I would have two murders on my hands. It could be the safest and easiest way out

to get rid of her. It wouldn’t be all that difficult. She takes a bath every night. I have only to go into the bathroom while she is in there and hit her over the head and then drown her. I would fix it I would be working on my car while she was taking her bath. I could slip upstairs without anyone seeing me, kill her and then return to the garage. She would be found by Flo in the morning. They’d think she was drunk, hit her head on the taps and then drowned. With her out of the way, I would have all the money and my freedom.’
He stubbed out his cigarette, frowning. He was rushing this thing, he warned himself. First, he had to get his hands on the money which was now in the vault, only twenty yards from where he was sitting.

He glanced at
hi
s strap watch, noticing the fair, thick hairs on his wrist were shiny with sweat. It was now eight minutes past six.

He lifted the telephone receiver and dialled the number of the r
ooming
-
h
ouse. With the receiver screwed against
his
ear, he listened to the burr-burr-burr on the line, then abruptly, Kit’s voice came to him.
‘What is it? Who is that?’

From the slurring note in her voice, he knew she was drunk and
his
eyes gleamed viciously.

‘Are you all right?’ he asked, keeping
his
voice low, mindful that Alice might hear him.

‘What

what did you say? Who is it?’

His fles
hy, sweating hand gripped the telephone receiver more tightly.

‘Are you all right?’ he
said, raising his voice slightl
y.

‘All right? Of course, I’m all right. Why shouldn’t I be?’ She spoke loudly and violently.

‘Keep your voice down,’ he snarled. ‘I’ll be expecting you in an hour. Leave at half past six. Do you understand?’

‘What do you imagine I am

an idiot? You’ve said this over and over again until I’m sick of hearing it. I’ll be there.’

‘Lay off drinking, will you? I don’t want you down here drunk.’

‘You’re lucky to have me any way,’ she shrilled and hung up.

He replaced the receiver on its cradle and then stared into space. He sat there for some moments, then he pulled open the top drawer of
hi
s desk and took from it one of
hi
s worn out socks filled tigh
tl
y with sand.

He balanced the home-made weapon in his hand, his face expressionless, then he shoved the sand-filled sock into
hi
s
hi
p pocket. Again he looked at his watch. He had still forty minutes before he could murder Alice.

With an effort of will, h
e beg
an to work on the monthly state
ments. He soon found he was making mistakes, and cursing, he tore up the statement he was working on and dropped the pieces into the trash basket. He pushed back his chair and stood up. He went silently to the door. Opening it, he looked at Alice who was perched on her stool, her feet twined around the rung of the stool, her head bent as she worked swiftly and as he knew by now, accurately. He watched her. In less than half an hour she would be dead, and by
hi
s hand. He suddenly wished he could get some support from whisky as Kit seemed to be doing, but he had never been a drinking man. As he stood there, wat
chi
ng, Alice must have felt his presence for she suddenly turned and looked at him through the glittering lenses of her glasses.
With an effort he managed to switch on his charm.

‘Going all right?’ he asked, his voice casual.

She regarded him. He could see she was a little puzzled and perhaps st
artled.

‘Yes, Mr. Calvin.’

‘Good

I won’t disturb you.’ He moved back into his office. He stood just inside t
he door, his mind plagued by un
certainty. Would Kit come? he asked himself. He looked towards the telephone, hesitating. If she had drunk too much, it was possible she might collapse on her bed and go to sleep, then he would be stuck with Alice’s body.
He still had time. At half past six he would ring again to make sure Kit had left for
th
e bank.
He forced himself to sit at his desk. His mind now
concen
trated on the money in the vault: three hundred thousand dollars! With Kit out of the way, every dollar would be his!
He struggled to work. The hands of the desk clock moved on to half past six. Every statement he made out was smudged by his sweating hands, and suddenly
and
viciously he screwed up the papers he had been working on and threw them into the trash basket.
He lit yet another cigarette, and as the minute hand of
the
desk clock moved to the half hour, he reached for the telephone receiver and called the
rooming
-house.
Flo answered.
‘This is Mr. Calvin. Is Mrs. Loring there, Flo?’

‘No, sir. Mrs. Loring’s just this moment gone out.’

‘Thanks

it’s nothing important. Miss Craig and I will be back soon after eight.’

He hung up. So she was on her way. There was no point wasting any more time. His hand moved to his hip pocket and his thick fingers closed around
the
neck of the sand-filed sock. He stood up and walked to the office door.
‘Oh, Alice


‘Yes, Mr. Calvin?’
‘Just a moment


He waited, aware he
was breathing heav
i
ly, aware
too of
that same odd feeling he had experienced during his combat days when he used to slaughter Japs who he first had had tied
to
trees. Those moments, as he appro
ached the line of helpless littl
e yel
l
ow apes, bayonet in hand, had given him a sexual excitement he was never to forget. Now as he waited for this thin, spinsterish girl in her glasses and shapeless dress to come in, he aga
in exper
ienced this same sexual excitement.
Alice came to the door and peered short-sightedly at him.

‘Yes, Mr. Calvin?’

His smile was a grimace as he waved towards his desk
.

‘I’d be glad if you’d check those figures. I don’t seem to get them to balance.’

She looked towards the pi
l
e of papers lying on his desk and then moved forward, passing him. He pul
l
ed the sand-filed sock from his hip pocket and balanced it in his hand
.
He watched her approach the desk, put both her hands on the desk and lean forward over the papers he had laid out for her to look at.
He began to move slowly towards her, his eyes glittering, his breathing quick and light. As he was within striking distance of her, as he was about to swing up his arm to deal the back of her head a crashing blow, the telephone bell began to ring.

The sound of the bell went through him like a sword thrust. He remained paralysed with shock as Alice picked up the receiver, saying, ‘Yes?’ She listened, then, ‘Why of course, Mrs. Rason. Yes, he is here. Will you hold on please?’

Calvin stuffed the sand-filled sock back into his hip pocket as Alice turned.
‘Mrs. Rason is asking for you,’ she said and he saw her stiffen and stare at his white, sweating face. ‘Is

is there something wrong?’
He moved around her without answering and taking up the receiver, he sat down at the desk.

‘Yes, Mrs. Rason?’ he said, his voice strangled and unsteady.

Mrs. Rason was one of the wealthiest clients of the bank. She had taken a fancy to Calvin and he had been re
-in
vesting her money. She launched into a long conversation about a merger she had been told about. What did Calvin think? Should she buy? If she did, Calvin would have to hurry.
Calvin watched Alice take up the papers on his desk and go out of the office. He scarcely heard what Mrs. Rason was saying. He suddenly remembered he had forgotten to unlock the back entrance to the bank. Any moment now Kit would be arriving. If she found the door still locked, what would she do? Go away? Do something stupid? A drop of sweat fell on to the blotter as the high-pitched voice yammered against his ear.
‘Look,’ he said, trying to keep his voice under control, ‘right now, Mrs. Rason, I can’t talk to you. I’m sorry. We’re closed. Could we discuss this tomorrow?’

‘Well, for heaven’s sake!’ Mrs. Ras
on said sharply. ‘I don’t know w
hat I’ll be doing tomorrow. If I buy, you’ll have to do something fast first thing tomorrow morning.’

Calvin could have strangled her. The startled expression on Alice’s face had warned him she had noticed something was wrong. What was she doing out there? He controlled himself with an effort.

‘Yes, I understand. Well, I think you should buy. I think
…’ Gentl
y he pressed down the cradle of the telephone, breaking the connection. He replaced the receiver, knowing in a few moments she would be calling back.
He got to his feet, moved quickly out of the office and around to the back entrance. He was aware Alice had seen him leave his office, but this was too important to him to care if she saw him
or
not
.
He unlocked the door, pu
lled back the bolts as the tele
phone bell began to ring. He opened the door and there was Kit, standing in the shadows, peering at him.
‘Wait here,’ he said ‘Don’t go away


Then Alice said behind him, ‘Why, hello, Mrs. Loring. What are you doing here?’

‘Answer that damned phone!’ Calvin snarled at her, then as Alice, looking shocked, backed away, he said to Kit, ‘Come on in.’
Kit moved into the bank. She was very drunk. He could smell the whisky on her breath.
‘I thought she was dead,’ she said in a loud aggressive voice. ‘I thought she was bound to be dead by now.’
‘Shut up!’ Calvin said fiercely. ‘Keep your mouth shut! You’re drunk!’

Alice came to his office door.

‘It’s Mrs. Rason

you

you were cut off.’

Calvin hesitated. He wanted to scream at Alice to tell the old bitch to go to hell, but he knew he must control himself. Later, when the police began their investigation, it was possible Mrs. Rason might be questioned.
‘Watch it,’ he said to Kit in a low voice, then he went into the office and picked up the telephone receiver. Through the open doorway, he could see Alice was staring at Kit. He heard her say, ‘What’s the matter, Mrs. Loring? Aren’t you feeling well?’ Then Mrs. Rason’s high-pitched voice blotted out any other sound.
When he could interrupt her, Calvin said, ‘I think it would be a sound idea for you to take up a thousand shares. Would you like me to do that for you?’

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