I reached the carport. The car door was unlocked. I opened the hood. Then using my flashlight, I removed the distributor head which I dropped into my pocket. I closed the hood, then returned the way I had come.
There would now be no quick packing and bolting, I thought, and undressing I got into bed.
The following day Beth went off on the motor scooter, but Ross didn’t show nor were the red curtains drawn back. I was beginning to think I had him scared, but I was taking no chances. I kept my bedroom door locked and kept a constant vigil at the window.
Beth got back in under an hour.
Two more days to go.
When Mrs. Brody had gone out, I went into her living room and called Beth’s number.
When she answered, I said, ‘If lover boy wants a slug in his guts, tell him to come looking for me tonight at the end of the lane. I’ll be waiting,’ and I hung up.
I was a great believer in a war of nerves.
I maintained my watch on the bungalow for the rest of the evening, but no one showed.
After dinner, I typed a message:
Only two more days, Beth. It is up to you.
Around midnight when the lights in the living room of Apple Trees were still on and Mrs. Brody was in bed, I left the house and made a cautious way to the bungalow. On the way there, I found a heavy stone. I tied my note to the stone with a piece of string I had brought with me.
I approached the bungalow. There was no sound from the television set and the windows were closed.
When I was close enough, I stood up and heaved the stone at the middle window of the living room. The glass smashed and the stone brushed by the flimsy red curtain and thumped on the floor.
The Mauser in my hand, I dropped flat and waited.
There was a long pause, then the lights went out.
I waited.
Here was the test. Would Ross show?
Nothing happened. I lay on the grass and waited. I waited for twenty minutes. No sound came from the bungalow: no lights showed.
Ross wasn’t coming out for a High Noon shoot up.
Gutless?
I edged my way back across the grass, then when I reached the dirt road, I stood up and walked back to my room.
Chapter Nine
One more day, I thought as I waited for Mrs. Brody to bring my breakfast. The set-up looked good to me. I had turned the screw last night and Ross hadn’t accepted the challenge. Had I been in his place, I knew that stone and the broken window would have been such a challenge, I would have come out fighting... but not Ross.
Yes, it looked good to me.
As Mrs. Brody set down the tray, she said, ‘I have to go out, Mr. Lucas. A neighbour of mine has been taken ill. Would you mind if lunch is late: I won’t get back before two o’clock.’
‘Suppose you leave me a sandwich? Then you needn’t worry to hurry back.’
She beamed.
‘Thank you. That’s real considerate. I’ll leave it in the kitchen.’
After breakfast, I went to the window and watched. A few minutes after nine o’clock, Beth appeared and went to the car. Even from this distance I could hear the engine growling as she tried to start it. Finally, she gave up and went back to the bungalow. I guessed she was telling Ross the car had broken down. Would he show?
I waited. Some fifteen minutes later, Beth appeared and drove off on her motor scooter.
So it would seem Ross was still too scared to come out in the open.
Beth hadn’t been gone more than three minutes when I heard the telephone bell ringing in the living room. I went to my door, unlocked and opened it.
I heard Mrs. Brody say, ‘Hello?’
There was a pause, then she said, ‘Who? No one of that name here... what name again? Devery? No.’ A long pause, then she said, ‘There’s a Mr. Lucas here.’ Another pause. ‘Yes, that’s right: he’s staying here.’ Another pause. ‘Hold it. I’ll ask him.’
So Ross, the ex-cop, had found me. I wasn’t surprised nor alarmed. I went out on to the passage as Mrs. Brody, dressed to go out, came from the living room.
‘There’s a man asking for you, Mr. Lucas. I must go: I’m late already.’
‘Thanks. I hope your friend isn’t too bad.’
I watched her leave, then I went into the living room and picked up the telephone receiver.
‘Yes?’
‘Is that you Devery?’ Ross’s voice sounded shaky.
‘Suppose it is?’
‘I’ve got to talk to you!’
‘I don’t need to talk to you, Ross. I talk only to Beth.’
‘Listen... I’ve got to talk to you! She won’t be back for an hour. This is my chance. I want to come to you.’
A voice can convey a lot of things. His voice conveyed fear.
‘Okay, Ross. I don’t know how good a shot you are, but I’m good. So if you want a shootout, come and have one.’
‘I haven’t got a gun! I swear I haven’t a gun!’ He was almost babbling.
He was either telling the truth or he was a great con man.
‘Here’s what you do, Ross. Come to the house. The front door will be open. Come in, walk down the passage and enter the third room on the left. I’ll be waiting with a gun,’ and I hung up.
I went to the window and watched. Two minutes later, Ross appeared. He was wearing a sweat shirt and cotton slacks. I put the field glasses on him. I couldn’t see any bulge made by a hidden gun. I lifted the glasses and examined his face. As he walked towards me, half-running, half-walking, his face became bigger and bigger in the lenses of the glasses. I scarcely recognized him from the hard, tough cop who had whistled to me when first we had met. This was a wreck of a man: white face, dark rings of exhaustion under his eyes and a slack twitching mouth.
It seemed my war of nerves had reduced him to pulp.
I left the front door open and my bedroom door. Then I went into Mrs. Brody’s bedroom, Mauser in hand and half shut the door. I was taking no chances.
After five minutes or so, I heard him come in. He shut the front door.
‘Devery?’ There was a quaver in his voice.
I waited.
He walked slowly down the passage and stopped at my door as I moved on to the passage.
‘Stay right there, Ross,’ I said, a snap in my voice.
He froze.
I moved up to him, dug the barrel of the Mauser into his spine and ran my hand over his body. Satisfied he wasn’t carrying a gun, I shoved him into my room.
He walked unsteadily to the middle of the room and stopped. He didn’t turn.
‘I’m quitting, Devery,’ he said. ‘You’ve no quarrel with me. I’ve had enough.’
I moved away from him.
‘Sit down.’
He went to an armchair and flopped into it. I sat on the bed, pointing the Mauser at him.
We looked at each other. This was no con trick. Here was a frightened, sweating creep who was only thinking of himself.
I put the gun down beside me and took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, then tossed the pack to him. He fumbled the catch, let the pack fall to the floor, scrabbled for it, then with a shaking hand, lit up.
‘Go ahead, Ross,’ I said. ‘Talk.’
‘She’s crazy!’ he blurted out. ‘I can’t take any more of her! I’ve been shut up with her now for days. She’s out of her mind! She’s gone down town to buy a gun! She wants me to come out here and kill you!’
I regarded him, feeling only contempt.
‘Don’t you want to kill me, Ross? Think of all that money you’ll have if I’m dead.’
‘Money?’ His voice turned shrill. ‘I don’t give a damn about money now!’ He slammed his fists together. ‘I want out! All her talk! She drives me crazy! Listen, Devery, I swear I didn’t know she was planning to murder her husband! I swear it! You’ve got to believe me! The moment I met her I knew she was a nutter, but she was a good screw. I couldn’t keep away from her. I did tell her about your record, but I didn’t know what she was planning. I swear it, Devery! I don’t go along with murder. Not for all the money in the world! When she told me what you and she had done... killing Marshall, I flipped my lid. I wanted out, but she showed me how she could involve me. She’s crazy about me, but to me, she’s just a lay.’ He paused and looked wildly around the room. ‘You’ve got to believe me. I want out but she said if I make a move you’ll shoot me! I don’t want to die! I don’t want her nor her money... I want out!’