But I had already guessed all that. It had hit me right in the face the instant I saw the headline.
The thing I hadn’t guessed was worse. It was the
clincher. It was that cop at the filling station.
I read it.
“It was the same guy, all right,” Sgt. Kennedy said
flatly. “He fitted the description perfectly. And it was Finley’s car. If we’d only known then.
“Sure he was alone, I looked in the car because it had Vale County license tags. There was nobody else.”
That was it: “...he was alone.”
I had done a beautiful job. I had done such a wonderful job that if she got away and they picked me up they could hang me.
And all she had to do was walk out the door. She was free.
I could feel the greasy sweat on the palms of my hands and the emptiness inside me as I forced myself to read it all. They repeated my description. It was good. That blonde hellcat had an eye for detail. She hadn’t missed a thing. My eyes caught the last paragraph.
“There was something about his face that seemed familiar,” Charisse Finley said. “I keep thinking I’ve seen him somewhere before. Or a picture of him.”
I to0k a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it with shaking fingers. That added the finishing touch. Any hour, day or night, it might come back to her. And I’d never know until they knocked on the door.
That was one I wouldn’t read in the papers first.
I tried to get hold of myself. Maybe I could still save it She might not remember. She hadn’t been able to yet; and the longer she puzzled over it, the less certain she’d be. It had been five years at least since the sports pages had carried a picture of me. A thousand—ten thousand— football players had marched across them since then.
I could wait it out. I had to. I couldn’t quit. I just couldn’t. Hell, the money was almost in my hand. The thought of losing it now made my insides twist up into knots. It would take only a few more days. They weren’t even looking for her now; all we had to do was buy her some clothes and have that job on her hair patched up a little. I could give her some story, some excuse for hurrying it. But I had to keep her from seeing a paper for
the next two or three days, until she was out of the news.
I sat straight upright. What about the radio?
It might come over the air any minute. Why hadn’t I thought of that? But, God, you couldn’t remember everything. I hit the starter and shot out of the parking place. When I was around the corner I dropped the paper out in the street. I swung fast at another corner and was headed back to the apartment house.
But maybe she had already heard it. It might even have come over the radio this afternoon while I was gone. How would I know? Did I think she would tell me?
Well, yes, I thought she would tell me. I still had those three keys and that bankroll in my pocket. She wanted those before she left. And there was another thing.
I was the only person left in the world that knew she was still alive.
Maybe she had plans for me. One more wouldn’t bother her.
I found a place to park not more than half a block away. I didn’t run until I was on the stairs. She wasn’t in the living room. The radio was turned off. I closed the door behind me and breathed again with relief. The silence was the most beautiful silence in the world.
I looked quickly around, wondering where she was. I had to do it now; it wouldn’t be safe to wait until she had gone to bed. But I had to be sure she wouldn’t come in and catch me at it. Then I heard her in the bathroom.
I walked over to the hallway door. It was open, and the bathroom door was open, a few inches. I could hear her humming softly to herself.
“You dressed?” I asked.
“Yes,” she called. “Why?” The bathroom door opened wider and she stood looking out at me. She had a towel pinned across her shoulders and was fastening strands of her hair up in little rolls. I could see the difference in
shade now. It was definitely lighter, a rich, coppery red.
“I just wondered if you’d heard the news,” I said.
Nothing showed in her face. You couldn’t read it. She
shook her head. “What was it?”
“That deputy sheriff finally came around.” I struck a match with my thumbnail and lit the cigarette in my
mouth. “And they found Diana James.”
“Oh? Well, naturally they would, sooner or later.”
“Yeah,” I said. “And it was funny. At first they thought
it was you
“They did?” she asked curiously. “But we didn’t look anything alike. She—” She stopped and did another take on it. “I see what you mean. The fire.”
I had to admire it. If she was acting, she was magnificent.
“That’s right,” I said. “You see, that deputy recognized you. And somebody heard the shots. So when they found the body there, they naturally thought it was you. But then they found her name engraved inside her wristwatch.”
“Oh,” she said. You could write your own interpretation. It could mean she believed it, or it could mean she’d already heard the actual news on the radio and was laughing herself sick inside. That was what made it terrible. You might never know for sure until you woke up with a kitchen knife in your throat.
“Well, save the paper,” she said carelessly. “I’ll read it when I’m through here.”
“Oh, damn,” I said. “I forgot it. I went off and left it in the lunchroom. But that’s all there was.”
She shrugged and went back into the bathroom.
She’d be busy there for a few minutes, at least. This was the chance I needed. I went into the kitchen and got a butcher knife out of the drawer. While I was at it, I counted them. There were two of the long ones, one short paring knife, and an ice pick. And the scissors, I thought. Any time I didn’t know where all those things were, I’d better start watching behind me.
I shot a glance back into the living room. She was still in the bathroom. I slipped in and picked up the radio off the table. I pulled the cord from the receptacle in the wall. Hurriedly loosening the two screws in back on the underside, I pried up the rear of the chassis enough to get the blade of the knife in under it I shoved and sliced, feeling wires and parts give way. Then I retightened the screws and plugged it back in. I set it right where it had been before, and took the knife back to the kitchen.
It was about ten minutes before she came out of the bathroom. She had a towel wrapped around her head. She lit a cigarette and stood watching me.
“I don’t think my hair will look nearly so ragged as soon as it sets,” she said. “And the color came out nicely. Did you notice?”
“Yes,” I said.
“It’s odd what a change of exterior will do. I feel like an entirely different person. As if I were somebody else, and Madelon Butler were dead.”
There was no way to tell how she meant it. It might be perfectly innocent, or she might be very subtly tightening the screws on me. The only thing I knew for sure was that mind of hers was dangerous. I’d seen enough of its work by now.
“Well, that was the general idea,” I said.
She sat down, switched on the radio, and leaned back. “Let’s see if there’s any news.”
The radio started to warm up. Then smoke began to
pour out of the cabinet.
“Hey,” I said, “turn it off! The damn things burning up”
She switched it off and looked innocently across at me.
“Isn’t that odd?” she said. “It was all right a little while ago.”
“Must have a short in it,” I said. “I’ll take it to a shop in the morning and have it fixed.”
“Do you think it’ll take long?”
“No,” I said. “Probably get it back in two or three days.”