Pin (21 page)

“You mean,” I said waving over at Pin, “your aunt's not at home now?”

“No, but I promised I'd pick up her list and get these things for her.”

“This won't take long,” I said, and we hung up. Pin couldn't believe in our good luck.

“No one will know he came here. No one. Leon, we've got it made.”

The news did encourage me a great deal. I felt much less nervous and much more sure of myself and our plan. It would all go well. Twenty minutes later, Stan arrived. I let him in and we sat down in the living room by the desk. His eagerness to learn all about Ursula's finances confirmed my original suspicions. To sweeten our revenge, I built up her wealth, making the prize (the prize he would never win) that much more desirable. Pin saw what I was doing and smiled approvingly.

“My father made some very good investments with his money, and I've kept them up in Ursula's and my name. After you're married, you might not want to hold on to them, but if the past means anything, they're well worth it.”

“Sure. I don't plan any radical new moves.”

“This stock here,” I said pointing to a page, “has gone up thirty points since my parents were killed. Ursula has five hundred shares.”

“Five hundred shares? You mean, at two hundred and twelve dollars apiece?”

“Sure, Stan,” I said, smiling. I threw a glance at
Pin. He was dying to laugh out loud, but he held it in. “But don't you know much about the stock market?”

“Not much, I'd have to confess. I never had the money to play around in it.”

“Understandable. Now you will have it,” I said. “With this year's interest, Ursula's savings are up to forty-four thousand.”

“You're not trying to tell me that Ursula saved forty-four thousand dollars working in that library?”

“No, Stan. This is money from our parents. This is Ursula's share. Of course, by all rights, Ursula owns half of this property.”

“Oh, I don't see what she would want with that. I mean, after all …”

“Nevertheless, half belongs to her. There are some bonds and a few real-estate ventures I want to show you. But first, how about a drink?”

“Sure. Scotch and water,” he said. He couldn't take his eyes off the figures I had written on the paper before him. I went to make the drinks. Pin watched me carefully. It was very easy to slip in two capsules of Librium. I made him a relatively weak drink because I didn't want his blood sugar up that much. There was no sense in doing anything to hinder the effect of the insulin to come, I thought. Pin nodded approvingly.

“Thanks,” Stan said, taking the drink. He continued to eye the paper on which I had written the figures.

“Here's to your good understanding of things. May you and Ursula turn the money into a comfortable fortune for both of you,” I said. He liked the toast and took a long drink. I looked at Pin and winked.

“So there's some real estate to look after also, huh?”

“Oh, yes. A long time ago, my father bought into a parking lot in Queens. It's not far from the airports, and, consequently, it has proven to be a very valuable piece of property. Look here,” I said, writing some figures on the pad as if I had to keep them secret. “This was our share from last year's profits.”

“Wow! She doesn't have to work a day in her life, does she?”

“Ursula doesn't understand any of this,” I said, shaking my head. “You're going to have to take care of all of it for her. Money is such a bother to Ursula. She can't even balance her checking account from month to month.”

“Incredible,” he said. He closed his eyes and then opened them.

“Want another drink?”

“No, this seems to be too much for me now. I really shouldn't have drunk on an empty stomach.”

“An empty stomach?” I smiled at Pin. “Here, just read this,” I said. “It's a stockholders' report on our shares of T. Dayton Enterprises.” I handed him the papers and got up. He read the material slowly while I walked back and forth in the room. Gradually, he started having difficulty focusing in on the pages.

“I'm sorry,” he said turning around, “but I find it difficult to concentrate on all this at the moment. Perhaps I should take some of it home with me and give it a lot more attention.”

“By all means.”

“I mean … I suddenly feel tired. Stupid, but I … feel kind of … weak too.” He wiped his face with the palm of his hand.

“Sure. Feel free.” I watched him actually struggle to stand.

“I'm a bit groggy. It's almost as if, as if …” he looked down at his empty glass.

“As if I put something in your drink?”

“Yes. You did … didn't… you?” He staggered around to face me. I took his left arm and pulled him forward. That brought his wooden leg in front of his left leg and he tripped over it. He hit the floor hard, landing on his left side and shoulder. “What the …” I watched him struggle to get to his feet. He pushed up with his arms, but I pushed down on him until he was flat on his stomach, his head resting on the rug. I knelt down beside him. He was breathing hard, fighting to remain conscious and understand what was happening to him.

“Ursula's got all kinds of jewels too,” I whispered. Pin laughed out loud. “You're going to have all of it. And there are all sorts of valuable things in her deposit box.”

“Why … are you …”

“Doing this? Simply so you and Ursula can have a fine life together,” I said, and I laughed. Pin laughed too. Then I pulled the pants leg up on the right leg and unfastened the wooden part. “You won't be needing this anymore,” I said. I walked over and put it on Pin's lap. He laughed again. We both watched Stan struggle to sit up.

“Time, Leon, time,” Pin said.

“Right. Stan,” I said, “from now on, we'll call you Jerry Leshner.” Pin was hysterical. I went out to the kitchen and brought back the tray. Stan had difficulty focusing on all of it. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked. I stood by and watched as he took hold of the side of the easy chair and tried to pull himself up
on it. The chair turned over on him and he fell back. “Very weak and sickly,” I said. Pin nodded.

“No question.”

“I say, doctor, do you concur with my diagnosis?”

“One hundred percent.”

“Diabetes?”

“Severe. Diabetic acidosis.”

“Exactly. Shall we begin treatment?”

“Immediately. It may be too late,” he said, laughing. Stan, fighting hard now for consciousness, stared up at me with glassy eyes. I filled the syringe and rolled up the pants on his right leg again until I reached his thigh. Then I did a remarkable thing. I sterilized the spot with alcohol. I didn't even think about it, or realize what I was doing at the time. Pin told me about it later on. We laughed over it. It seemed to take a long time to give him four injections. I felt sure that was enough. When I was finished, I sat back with Pin and watched.

“Get your father's manual,” Pin said.

“Good idea.” I ran out to the dining room, where some books were kept on shelves, and brought back the Merck Manual, eighth edition. I turned quickly to the chapter on “Hypoglycemia (Insulin Shock), Symptoms and Signs.”

“Let's hear it,” Pin said. Stan's reactions were already starting.

“At onset, symptoms include sweating, flushing or pallor, numbness, chillness, hunger, trembling, headache, dizziness, weakness, changes in the pulse rate …”

“Check it.”

“Right,” I said and got on my hands and knees. I took his pulse. “Rapid.”

“Go on.”

“Increases in blood pressure, cardiac palpitation …”

“Oh, get the old stethoscope,” Pin said. He was really excited.

“Right,” I said and ran into his room and brought it out. Then I got on my hands and knees again and opened Stan's shirt. He was sweating like crazy. The heart was palpitating, all right. “Check,” I said.

“Go on.”

“If the hypoglycemia is not relieved, signs of CNS involvement appear. There may be restlessness, incoordination, thick speech, emotional instability, negativism, disorientation … subsequently in severe cases by coma and even … death.”

We watched. He was salivating madly now and moving like an epileptic. We waited. Pin had even forgotten that he still held Stan's wooden leg in his lap. The time went by slowly. The convulsions slowly ceased as he moved into a coma.

“It won't be long now,” Pin said, “before he expires. You'd better carry him into my room and get rid of his car.”

I hesitated for a moment before lifting him. Suddenly the sight of him there on the floor had a sobering effect on me. When I went to lift his body, his pants leg went shapeless below the right knee. It revolted me. I closed my eyes and stood up with him in my arms. I could smell the sweat on his body. His head turned in toward my chest. I tried turning it away, but it stayed there.

“Move quickly, Leon,” Pin said. I struggled with the door for a moment, and then, using his body, pushed it open. When I got inside, I dropped his body on the bed. He was heavy and I knew it would be quite a strain to carry his body out back to the
pond. I took a blanket out of the closet and placed it over him. Then I went back out and brought Pin in. He wanted to sit in the chair by the bed and watch. “Pull the blanket off his face,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Hurry up. Get that car out of here.”

“Right,” I said. I did as he wished and left the room, locking the door with my key. Then I went outside to Stan's car. I had forgotten to get the ignition key from him, so I had to go back inside, open the door to Pin's room and pull back the blanket. “I forgot the key,” I said to the surprised Pin. I found the key in his shirt pocket. Then I went back out and drove the car up the hill to the ski lodge parking lot. It was crowded up there, being a good snow week. I put the car at the far end, inconspicuous, I thought. I expected it would be a long time before anyone noticed it. As I walked back from the parking lot, I threw the ignition key into the woods. I can't have any evidence on me, I thought.

Getting a ride back down the hill wasn't difficult. I must have looked underdressed because three young women in a car picked me up almost immediately and chastised me for coming out in such light dress. They asked me a lot of questions about myself, but I was deliberately evasive. About three houses before mine, I asked them to stop and let me out. I thought that was a brilliant piece of work. Pin would certainly be proud of my clever thinking. Even if they were somehow questioned about a hitchhiker, they would trace me back to the wrong house. I waited for their car to disappear and then I ran all the way home. It was nearly six o'clock.

When I got inside, I nearly had heart failure. Stan's wooden leg had slipped off Pin's lap when I
lifted him to take him into his room. In my excitement I forgot to pick it up. Ursula was due home any moment. She could have walked in and found the leg there on the floor. I quickly scooped it up, unlocked Pin's door, and threw it into a corner of the room.

“Everything go all right?” Pin asked. That's when I told him about my clever decision concerning where I got off. He was impressed.

“Is he …?”

“Not yet. Just close the door and forget about him. It's done.”

“Yes,” I said. “It's done.” Then I heard Ursula come in the front door, so I quickly closed and locked Pin's. I turned around and immediately panicked. I had completely forgotten about the syringe and empty insulin vial. Everything was still there on the tray on the floor.

I
NCREDIBLY,
U
RSULA DID NOT SEE THE STUFF ON THE
floor. She rushed into the house, stuck her head into the living room and shouted hello. I was standing in the middle of the living room, frozen to the spot. Then she ran up the stairs, shouting about how she had to get ready quickly to go out to dinner with Stan. I exhaled relief and picked up the tray, taking it out to the garbage pail in the kitchen. I placed it all in a paper bag and shoved it down deep into the other garbage. Then I sat down in the living room for a few moments and tried to catch my breath. On the other side of Pin's locked door, Stan was either dead or dying. Upstairs, Ursula was rushing around to get ready to go out to dinner with him. This struck me funny and I couldn't help laughing aloud.