‘He mustn’t know about you yet, darling. He’s smart. I don t want him to get ideas.’
‘So, okay, he’s smart, but tell him you want a big advance then let’s get out of Frisco. We could go to Miami and lose ourselves. Once we get the money, we get lost.’
‘I’ve always wanted to settle in Frisco.’
‘Forget it! You’ll love Miami and we’re away from gossip.’
‘All right, honey, anything you say.’
‘That’s it... anything I say. Come here.’
I stepped back and moved quietly back to the gate.
A revealing conversation. It told me she was hooked and that was all I wanted to know. It also told me she wouldn’t have the money for another two weeks. I could wait. In the meantime I would have to buy a gun.
Having spent a restless night at the motel and eaten a badly cooked breakfast, I called my bank at Wicksteed and checked that Bernstein had deposited the $700 he owed me to my credit. He had. I told the clerk to have the amount credited to the Chase National branch which was right by the motel. He said he would do it right away. I then went across to the Chase National and opened an account with them, telling them of the deposit on the way.
I was now worth $1700 and that would be plenty for the time being. I then drove down town. After looking around, I went in to a big pawnshop and told the clerk I wanted to buy a handgun.
There was no problem about that. He offered a Smith & Wesson, a Browning .32 and a Mauser 7.63. I chose the Mauser because it looked impressive and was a top class engineering job with a detachable shoulder holster and it also looked menacing. He sold me a box of twenty-five slugs. Then regarding me, he said I would need a police permit. I got the idea he was registering my face in his mind. That I had to expect. I said I’d go around to the station house right away. I gave him a fictitious name and address, signed a form and that was that.
During my service in Vietnam I had learned how to handle firearms. The Mauser held no mysteries for me.
Putting the gun in my glove compartment, I then drove out towards Orchard Avenue. On the way up the previous night I had spotted a real estate agent’s office. Reaching it, I parked and walked into a small office where a bald, fat man sat behind a shabby desk, twiddling his thumbs and staring into space. He showed me yellow teeth, got up, waved me to a chair and asked what he could do for me.
I said I was interested in buying or renting a property on Orchard Avenue. He looked sad, shook his head and said no houses on Orchard Avenue were available, but he had some nice properties...
I interrupted him, saying I fancied Orchard Avenue and that’s where I wanted a house.
‘Well, it depends on how long you can wait. They are old people up there and they pass on from time to time. You never know. An old lady died last year and the house was snapped up by another old lady. It is a matter of time.’
‘I can wait,’ I said. ‘I’ve still to sell my house in L.A. Right now I have a job here. Is there a chance of getting a furnished room on Orchard Avenue while I wait?’
He found a pin behind his coat lapel and began to explore his yellow teeth while he thought.
‘Maybe,’ he said finally. ‘Mrs. Emma Brody might take in a lodger. I’ve known her for years. She lost her husband not so long ago. She might be interested. Why not try her?’
‘You wouldn’t have a plan of the estate, would you?’
He dug into a file and gave me a plan. I asked him to locate Mrs. Brady’s house. He marked it with a pencil.
‘What’s this house here?’ I asked, pointing to Apple Trees.
‘Not for sale. I’ve tried dozens of times to get the owner to part: no soap.’
I was examining the plan. I could see from Mrs. Brody’s rear windows, she would have a direct view of Beth’s place.
It would seem the cards were falling my way. I thanked him, said I would call on Mrs. Brody and should I mention his name? He shook his head sadly, said he just wanted to be helpful. Rentals were more bother than they were worth.
After shaking hands with him, I left him twiddling his thumbs and drove up to Orchard avenue. I parked outside Mrs. Brody’s house and rang the doorbell.
She came to the door, a cigarette dangling from her lips.
I explained who I was and she recognized me. Her fat, friendly face lit up.
‘Apple Trees isn’t for rent,’ I said, ‘but the agent said property does come up for sale from time to time and I can wait. I like it here. He said you might have a room to rent. I’m working on a computer system and need quiet. Would you consider renting me a room?’
Again there was no problem. She wanted me to have the best bedroom overlooking the street, but I said I wanted quiet, so she showed me the back bedroom which was small, but comfortably furnished. I looked out of the window: a little more than a hundred yards away, I could see Apple Trees.
We made terms and I said I would move in that afternoon. She said if I wanted meals she would be happy to oblige. As I intended to keep a twenty-four hour watch on the bungalow I wouldn’t want to go out so I arranged with her to supply two simple meals a day.
Leaving her, I drove back to the motel, checked out, then going to another pawnshop, I bought a pair of powerful field glasses and a portable typewriter. Then from a nearby store I bought a pack of typing paper and a couple of notebooks. I wanted to look convincing when Mrs. Brody cleaned my room.
I had lunch and then moved into my room. Mrs. Brody gave me a key. She seemed inclined to gossip, but I cut her short, saying I had to start work right away.
‘If you want to see some TV while you’re here, you come down. I like a bit of company.’
I thanked her and went up to the room, shut and locked the door, pulled up a chair and getting out the field glasses, I focussed them on Apple Trees.
So began a four day and half the night’s vigil. After three days, I got the pattern of the way Beth and Ross lived.
Around ten o’clock, Ross went off in the car. Soon after eleven, Beth, carrying a shopping bag, left the house and went away on a motor scooter. She got back around 12.45. Ross didn’t show up until 18.00. From time to time I got a good view of them at the window. They didn’t go out in the evening, but settled down to watching the tube.
It seemed to me a dull kind of life considering the money she was worth until I realized they were afraid to be seen together in the city. They could run into Bernstein who was sharp enough to recognize Ross, having seen him at the inquest and at the funeral.
Mrs. Brody provided adequate meals. I did a little typing to convince her I was working. Fortunately, she was often out visiting neighbours. On the fourth morning, as she was cleaning my room, she said I should go out and get some fresh air.
I said my work was urgent and I was a night bird.
‘I take a walk when you are in bed. You don’t have to worry about me.’
For the next six days, I watched, and finally, I was satisfied that Beth was always alone from 13.00 to 18.00. I decided it was time to make my first move.
So that afternoon, just after 14.00, I went to my parked VW, got the Mauser from the glove compartment, stuck it in my waist band and then wandered up the street and up the dirt road to Apple Trees.
Beth was in the garden, on her knees, weeding the rose bed. I approached her silently over the grass and she wasn’t aware of me until my long shadow fell before her.
She remained motionless for a brief moment, then quickly looked over her shoulder.
We looked at each other and I wondered how I could have ever been so infatuated with her. The sight of her hard, mask-like face, her remote eyes and the hard set of her mouth now sickened me.