Nothing More than Murder (10 page)

I
’ve probably given you the idea that Elizabeth didn’t have much tact or, at least, that she didn’t go out of her way to use it. And that’s true and it was the cause of a lot of our trouble. But now that I think about it, it seems like the thing that caused the most hell was that I never knew quite how she was going to react to a given situation.

I don’t mean that I’d want any woman to be all cut and dried in her actions, or that I ever expected anyone to use me as a pattern. But I do say you’ve got to have some—well, some standard of conduct or you don’t have anything at all. You’ve got to know whether what you’re going to do will make a person happy or sore. You’ve got to know whether a person is actually happy when they—he—she looks like and says she is or at least you’ve got to know that she isn’t. And if that sounds mixed up I am and I was, right from the day we were married.

We closed the show up for two weeks for our honeymoon, since it wasn’t making a damned thing anyway; and, seeing that it was summer, we went to a resort up in the eastern part of the state. It was just a small place—but nothing cheap by a long shot—and everyone had you sized up the minute you walked in. Everyone knew that Elizabeth and I were just married, and everyone was doing a little under-the-breath kidding about it. And I thought that Elizabeth was taking it perfectly all right—as why the hell shouldn’t she have?

But when the waiter brought our dinner up that night she suddenly blew the lid off of things. One minute he was chuckling and just being pleasant as waiters will; and the next minute he was out the door so fast his jacket tails were flying. I don’t exactly remember what it was Elizabeth said to him. But I knew it was the wrong thing. And before I knew what was happening she was telephoning the manager and reporting this boy for insulting us.

“For Christ’s sake,” I said, when I finally got my breath, “what did you do that for, Elizabeth?”

“I’m sorry, Joe,” she said. “I should have let you do it.”

“Do what? Why should I have done anything?”

“Oh?” Her mouth tightened, then relaxed. “I know you’ve been thinking about business matters, dear. But if you’d noticed—”

“I tell you what I have noticed,” I said. “I’ve noticed you standing right out in the middle of Stoneville, gabbing and laughing with some washwoman and her ragged-assed pickaninnies until—”

“Don’t use words like that, Joe!”

“All right, then, they were just ragged, but—”

Well, how can you argue with a person like that? Someone that’s absolutely determined to miss the entire point of a conversation?

I said, “Well, hell, let’s forget it and go to bed.” And we went, and there wasn’t any more argument the rest of that night. But I still felt bad about getting this boy in trouble and maybe letting ourselves in for a lot of rotten service. And, like she always knew, Elizabeth knew that I was bothered.

When we went down to breakfast the next morning, the waiter captain gave us a funny look and led us over to a table in the middle of the dining-room. And then he snapped his fingers, and this same boy we’d had the night before came running over.

“George wants to apologize for his conduct,” the captain said. “I’m sure you’ll have no more trouble with him.”

“Sure, why not,” I said. “Just give us a menu and skip it. We’ll get along all right.”

I almost jerked the menus out of the waiter’s hands, and shoved one at Elizabeth; and I got behind the other one fast. But it wasn’t any go. Elizabeth wasn’t ready to drop it until I looked like a complete damned fool.

“Why, sure, everything’s okay,” she said, letting out with a big laugh. “George and I are pals, aren’t we, George?” And right in front of everyone she reached out and grabbed his hand and shook it.

We ate breakfast. I guess.

We got out of there and went for a long, fast walk. Elizabeth didn’t say anything and neither did I. It wasn’t until noon, after we’d eaten at a little hamburger joint in the town, that we got to speaking to each other again. And then it wasn’t so good.

I did all I could, God knows. I admitted she’d played me for a chump, and tried to laugh it off. But right in the middle of my trying to make a joke of it she busted out bawling, and then she ran back to the hotel by herself.

I guess this waiter George must have been a pretty good boy because I had to pay the captain fifty bucks to fire him. That made things a little more comfortable; and after a day or two—a night or two, I should say—Elizabeth and I were beginning to feel that marriage wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

We were a little edgy with each other, but, generally, I’d say that that feeling lasted on through our honeymoon and for several months afterward. It wasn’t until I put Bower out of business that we had another real blowup.

“But you just couldn’t have done it, Joe!” she said. “The Bowers are one of the oldest families in town, and they’ve always been good friends of ours. You can’t deliberately ruin people like that.”

“I’m not ruining them,” I said. “If Bower wants to start another show it’s all right with me.”

“You know he can’t start another one!”

“Well, that’s his fault, then,” I said. “I’ve got to protect our investment. It’s up to him to look after his. What could be fairer than that?”

She sat and stared at me for a long time, and I began to get nervous. There wasn’t any reason why I should have, but I couldn’t help myself.

“Well, what’s wrong?” I said.

“What do you think, Joe?”

“I don’t think anything,” I said. “All I know is that I work my can off trying to put us on a good spot and you can’t do anything but find fault with me. Whose side are you on, anyhow? Mine or Bower’s?”

“Do I have to take sides against people who’ve never done me any harm?”

“Look,” I said. “This is business, Elizabeth. You just can’t—”

“Never mind, Joe. I think I understand.”

The smile she gave me wouldn’t have fooled me later on, but it did at the time. And when she said of course she was on my side, where else would a wife be? I was completely taken in.

I went ahead and told her about the other things I had planned. How I could get the work done on a new house for nothing. How I could get the marquee and other stuff for next to nothing. How I could use them to get credit to pay the bills that couldn’t be ducked. How we could run the house union at less expense than it cost to scab.

I must have shot off my mouth for an hour. And then, since everything seemed to be going so well, and we hadn’t been married very long—

We went up to the bedroom, and that—it—was the craziest goddamn thing that ever happened to me. Action? Sure; as much as you’d get on a roller coaster. Affection? The only twenty-dollar girl I ever had gave me a lot less. Heat? Like a furnace. It was lovely and wonderful, and so goddamn phony I felt myself gagging right into her mouth.

I jumped up and began jerking on my clothes.

“All right,” I yelled, “have it your way! I’ll let everything slide, and you can have your goddamn rattrap back as it stands and I’ll clear out!”

“But I don’t want you to clear out, Joe.” She got up and stood in front of me. “I happen to love you.”

“Damned if you don’t,” I said. “Just leave me alone. I won’t bother you again.”

“And I want you to bother me, too. Perhaps I’m a little disappointed in—in things, but—”

“You’re disappointed?” I said. “What the hell do you think I am?”

She didn’t answer that one, and I went ahead flinging on my clothes, trying not to look at her.

I finished dressing and started for the door, and she got in front of me.

“Well?” I said.

“Is this better, Joe?” she said. Then,
cr-aack!
She slapped me. “Do you like that better?”

And before I could come to my senses, before I could get over someone who was supposed to be a lady acting like a four-bit floozy, she’d shoved me out the door and locked it.

Well, I built the show. I did the other things I’ve told you about. And every once in a while, during those first few years, I thought we were going to be able to straighten things out and get along like married people should.

I thought so the strongest when she got pregnant, but then she miscarried and it was worse than ever. It was like I mentioned a while back. I never knew what she was going to do. I was never sure whether her actions and words meant one thing or whether they meant another.

About all I could ever be sure of was that she hated my guts, and that she hated them most right when she claimed to be loving me the loudest.

The funny part about it all was that with all her high-toned sneering, she wasn’t too good to profit by the corners I cut. She insisted on keeping the show in her name, and she made almost as big a job of running it as I did. Not that anything she ever did was a damned bit of help, but she kept her hand in and held in there right on up to the end.

No, I don’t think she was ever afraid of my skipping out if I wasn’t tied down. And I don’t think the main idea was to humiliate me, although that may have been part of it. I think—no, I don’t, either. If I really thought that, then nothing would make sense.

I don’t think I mentioned that she fired Carol that afternoon she caught her in my room. Well, she did, and I let her. It didn’t look like I had much grounds for argument, and I figured I’d see Carol later and slip her some money and fix it up.

Carol packed up her things, or started to. Before she could finish Elizabeth called her down to the living-room.

“I’m partly to blame for this,” she said to us. “Perhaps, by bringing Carol into this house, I’m entirely to blame. At any rate, I’m ready to assume some of the responsibility for it. Carol, exactly what are your feelings toward Mr. Wilmot?”

“None of your business,” said Carol.

“And yours toward Carol, Joe?”

“There’s no use in me saying anything,” I said. “You’ve already got your mind made up.”

“I see. Well, in preference to having this affair carried on around the countryside, I think Carol had best stay here. Go and unpack your things, Carol.”

Carol looked at me, and I nodded. After she’d left the room Elizabeth stood up.

“I’m going to give you a little time to decide exactly what you want to do, Joe. And when you do reach a decision I expect you to stick by it. Do you understand?”

“Maybe I’ve already decided,” I said.

“And?”

“Let’s say I’m about as sick of you as you are of me.”

“All right,” she said. “Now, the little matter remains of what to do about it.”

From where I sit now I’d say she thought she had me; that she knew there wasn’t anything I could do and that I’d have to backwater on the deal. Looking back I’d say that she wasn’t really thinking about the insurance when she agreed to settle for twenty-five grand. It was just her way of saying that she wouldn’t trade at all.

I don’t mean that she wanted me herself, because everything that she’d ever done or said pointed to the fact that she didn’t. But she wasn’t going to let Carol have me, either. Not Carol. She didn’t hate Carol, exactly; she didn’t think enough of her even to do that. It was Carol who did the hating and she did a good job of it. But—

But that’s beside the point.

The insurance did get mentioned, and there was just one way we could cash in on it. And when I laid the plan out, little by little, Elizabeth went for it. It surprised me, but she did. She even took full charge of the plans, pushing them along faster than I would have myself.

Carol thought it was all a gag, that Elizabeth was just trying to land her and me in trouble. But I didn’t and don’t think so. Elizabeth didn’t need to pretend anything. She was in the saddle. And there was no way she could have made trouble for us without involving herself.

Why did she try to burn herself up there toward the last? The answer to that is, she didn’t. It just looked that way. She knew every trick to that rewind motor. She knew just how much she could play around with that short-circuited cord without being in danger. I didn’t move as fast as she thought I would and consequently she almost had herself a funeral party. But, anyway, it was a good trick and it almost worked.

If it hadn’t been for Carol, for what had happened between us— And, yes, I guess Carol had been doing a little thinking, too, which was why things turned out as they did.

Carol could so some pretty straight thinking even if she didn’t always come up with the straight answers. Word for word, I can still remember what she said that first night we talked about the murder.

“Why do you want to do it?” she said, staring hard at Elizabeth. “That’s the part I don’t get.”

Elizabeth shrugged. “It seems that some move is indicated.”

“By Joe and me, maybe. You don’t need to stick your neck out.”

“Well—shall we say I’m trying to be co-operative?”

“Don’t make me laugh!”

“I wish I could,” Elizabeth said. “Almost anything would be an improvement over your normal expression. However! I need a minimum of twenty-five thousand dollars to leave, and—”

“You’ve got a lot more than twenty-five thousand without leaving.”

Elizabeth sighed and shrugged, as much as to say Carol was making a damned fool of herself. “There’s not much more for me to say, is there? Think whatever you like.”

“I am,” said Carol, real slow. “And I—I don’t understand—”

I
felt sick driving home from the city after leaving Al, kind of like I was catching the flu. The outside of my body was warm enough, maybe a little too warm, but inside I was cold. Shivering.

But sick or just scared sick, however you want to put it, I couldn’t help but admire the way Sol Panzer had laid his plans. They added up to a knot behind my ear, but I still had to admire them. By God, they were perfect.

Or do you get it?

A stunt like Sol was pulling takes a lot of preparation and a lot of dough. He had to have his stocks rigged for the jump; he had to be able to show that he wasn’t bluffing. Just an announcement to the newspapers of what he intended doing wouldn’t be enough. The papers wouldn’t go for it and neither would the suckers. The architect’s plans would have to be drawn and the construction contracts signed, and money earmarked for the building. And, of course, the film exchanges would have to be lined up.

Up to that point, there was almost no chance of a leak, of someone’s taking the edge off his surprise. Sol was dealing with people he controlled. He could make it worth their while to stay mum, and make ’em wish they’d never been born if they didn’t. The outsiders might
think
he was up to something, but they wouldn’t know what it was. Their one chance of finding out would be when he bought a location. So?

So, he hadn’t bought any. He hadn’t risked having an option or a lease or a sale traced back to him. He didn’t need to. I had the location he wanted, and when he got ready he’d step in and take it off my hands. I’d have about ten minutes to make up my mind. I could take a few grand and get out, or take nothing or next to it later on. I might cause him a little trouble, but it wouldn’t make me anything. I’d take what he offered, whatever it was. I’d have to.

If I was still around…

I got into Stoneville a little after dark and drove around the square a few times, trying to make up my mind what to do. I was afraid to go home; I didn’t know what I was going to say to Carol. I was afraid to go to the show; I didn’t know what I could say to Hap. Finally, I parked across from the house, in front of Bower’s old place, to give myself a little time to think; and I hadn’t much more than shut my motor off before Andy Taylor was there, poking his head in the window.

“Been looking for you, Joe,” he said. “Figured it was about time you an’ me had a little talk.”

“What about?” I said.

“I reckon you know.”

“What do you think you’ve got on me, Andy?”

“I don’t know, Joe. I ain’t got the slightest idea. But I know I got somethin’.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll see you in a day or two. I’m sick and worn out right now. I think I’m coming down with the flu.”

“Don’t wait too long, Joe.” He cackled. “I might talk to someone else.”

He showed signs of needling me some more, so I mumbled something about business and walked across the street to the show.

Mrs. Artie Fletcher was in the box office, filing and buffing her fingernails and looking like she’d stab anyone that bothered her. You know, efficient and attractive like a cashier ought to look. Harry Clink-scales, my half-witted doorman, was doing his best, too, to run people off. He kept tossing grains of popcorn into the air and catching them in his mouth, stumbling around the lobby with his head thrown back and his mouth open about a foot. I wished to God a light bug would drop down it.

When he saw me he stopped and wiped his greasy hands on his uniform. My uniform.

“That’s a good act, Harry,” I said. “What’ll you take to put it on inside?”

He grinned like an ape. “There was a guy here to see you a little while ago, Mr. Wilmot.”

“A gentleman, Harry?”

“Yessir.”

“What was his name?”

“Dunno. He didn’t tell me.”

“Well, that was pretty dumb of him, wasn’t it?” I said. “What did he say when you asked him?”

Harry got kind of red in the face. “I think I know who he was, Mr. Wilmot. I think it was that guy—that gentleman from the insurance company.”

“Oh,” I said.

“He said he’d stop back later on in the evening.”

“Good,” I said; and I went on in and up to the projection booth.

Hap had just put on a new reel and was leaning back against the rewind table, watching the picture through the port. The booth speaker was roaring; the sound was too loud. It gets that way early in the evening when there aren’t enough people in the house to provide the right kind of acoustics.

Hap turned down the control a little, and wiped the sweat from his face and arms with a dirty towel.

“This is a veritable blast furnace, laddie. Why is it you didn’t air-condition the booth when you did the rest of the house?”

“Why should I?” I said. “I don’t sell any seats up here.”

“Uh-
hah,
” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “Right to the mark, as usual, eh? Well, what luck in the city?”

“Nothing,” I said. “None. I didn’t get to see Panzer.”

“Ah? You had your eyes closed?”

“No. He was out of town.”

He took a step toward me, and I moved out of the way. He pulled a reel out of the film cabinet, slipped it into the off-projector, and flipped the switch on the arc.

“You’re a bloody liar, old man. You’re a blasted, stinking, filthy liar.”

“For Christ’s sake, Hap,” I said. “Give me a little time! This thing hit me out of a clear sky. What the hell, anyway? I’ve got the insurance money coming.”

“Have you, now? I wonder.”

“I will if you—if—”

“Maybe it won’t be left to me.”

“How do you mean?”

“Your now-vacationing projectionist and I have been having some nice long talks. Got quite pally, young Nedry and I have.”

“If you don’t stop trying to pump him,” I said, “he will suspect something. Leave him alone, Hap. He doesn’t know anything.”

“I wish I were confident of that. He’s dropped several sinister hints. He’s intimated that he isn’t going to be around very long, that he’s got certain information which, transmitted to Blair—who’s been after your scalp a long time, I understand—will get him a transfer to one of the city houses.”

I laughed. I’d been wondering why Jimmie and Blair were running around together.

“Blair’s letting his wishbone get in the way of his brain,” I said, “and Jimmie is just hungry enough to string him along. He’ll be right here as long as I want him.”

“Oh? Are you—”

“I don’t blame Jimmie for trying. Those city locals only have their charters open about an hour out of the year, and only the insiders know when that is. If some floater does get the word, all they have to do is give him an examination no one could pass or put the initiation fee out of his reach.”

“I know all that, laddie.”

“Well, Blair isn’t going to go to all the expense and trouble of fixing things up unless Jimmie gives him some real dirt, and Jimmie can’t because he doesn’t have any. He’s demanding the transfer before he talks.”

“I don’t know. It looks like Jimmie would have to know something. Suppose Blair gives him the transfer? What’s his story going to be?”

“He won’t need any. He can tell Blair to go laugh up a rope. He’d be in then, and out of Blair’s jurisdiction.”

“Well, I hope you’re right, laddie. I sincerely hope so. For my sake.”

“I’m right,” I said. “By the way, don’t you want me to give you a relief?”

“Oh, no. Nedry’ll be along in a few minutes. He gives me a relief twice a day.”

“Oh,” I said. “Well, that’s pretty nice of him.”

“Isn’t it, though?”

“Well, good night,” I said.

“Cheerio! And remember—on your toes. I’m not waiting around here forever.”

He started the off-projector, slid the port on the other one, and began unthreading the run-reel of film. I took a good long look at the back of his head and went downstairs again.

It wasn’t much different from three thousand other nights. People strolling by, walking up to the box office or stopping to look at the lobby cards, asking how I was and being asked how they were. Now and then a car would pass by slow, and there’d be a light tap on the horn; and I’d turn around and wave and be waved at. A couple of bobby soxers stood up near the popcorn machine, giggling and talking to Harry, and watching me out of the corner of their eyes. Overhead, up above the marquee, the thirty-foot sign went on and off, spelled and flashed, painting the street and the cars green and red. Without looking, without even noticing, I knew when it went

B-A-R-C-L-A-Y, then BARCLAY, then
BARCLAY
.

I remembered all the arguments Elizabeth and I had had about that sign. How I’d hated it at first, yeah, how I’d hated her, not because I wanted my own name up there but because she didn’t; because she wasn’t as proud of Wilmot as she was of Barclay. And what did it matter? What did it really matter, anyway? Everyone knew who’d built the house. People always know those things. And Elizabeth was the last of the Barclays, and it was the oldest family in the county.

When people haven’t got anything but a name you can’t blame them for leaning on it. And maybe—just maybe—that wasn’t her reason. Maybe it was her way, as she’d put it, of being responsible. Of backing me up before the whole damned world.

Oh, hell…

I’d got hot up in the booth, and now I was beginning to chill. I passed a word or two with Mrs. Fletcher, and crossed the street to my car.

I got in and rolled up the windows, and lighted a cigarette. I let my head lie back against the seat and tried to rest. Maybe I dozed a little, but I don’t think so. I think I was just so wrapped up in worrying about Carol and Elizabeth and Hap Chance and Andy and Sol Panzer and wondering what I was going to do that I was deaf and blind to everyone else.

I don’t know how long Appleton stood outside the car looking in at me. But finally I rolled my head and there he was.

I kind of jumped, and then I opened the door and let him in.