‘You should have thought of that before,’ I said to keep him talking.
‘Thought?’ He clutched his head. ‘I’ve done nothing else but think! I want out!’
‘Oh, shut up! You knew what she was planning. You wanted the money. You covered up for her. An open and shut case. Remember? It was you who persuaded McQueen to leave her alone. It was you who got me to play killer while you stood on the sidelines, waiting to pick up the money. The problem with you is you’re yellow. So long as you felt safe, waiting to pick up the money, you were happy, but when Beth told you I was gunning for you, you couldn’t take it. Now listen to me: unless Beth agrees to give me five hundred thousand dollars, you’re dead.’ I picked up the Mauser. ‘There are ten slugs in this gun. They are all for you. You either talk Beth into playing or else... and I’m not bluffing.’
His face turned grey.
‘I can’t talk her into it! I tell you... she’s out of her head!’
‘Then it’s too bad for you.’ I stood up. ‘Get out!’
‘Devery...’ He was shaking. ‘What have I done to you? Give me a break! Let me get away. I’ll go now!’
‘Haven’t you got the message, Ross? Without you, I’d never get the money from her. You make one false move and you’re dead. Now get out!’
He got unsteadily to his feet. He stared at me, started to say something, then stopped.
‘Beat it!’ I barked.
He went, his head down, his shoulders hunched, shaking.
Lack of moral fibre? Yellow through and through.
I was at the window when Beth arrived back on the motor scooter. She was carrying a shopping bag and I wondered if she had bought the gun. I was pretty sure Ross wouldn’t have the guts to come here, but she could. She wouldn’t come until it was dark. I would have to sit up all night. I went into the kitchen, found the pack of sandwiches Mrs. Brody had left and returned to my room. I locked the door, ate the sandwiches, then stretched out on the bed.
The idea of Beth coming here with a gun was a joke. I was sure she had never handled a gun in her life... so let her come! I was confident I could handle her. I went to sleep.
When Mrs. Brody brought me my dinner, I had been up for over an hour. There had been no activity at Apple Trees and I didn’t expect any until it was dark.
I inquired after Mrs. Brody’s friend and was told she was better. Mrs. Brody had brought the evening newspaper.
‘You’ve been so busy, Mr. Lucas, I do believe you haven’t heard all the news... not that it makes happy reading. I’ve finished it. I thought you would like it.’
I thanked her. She was right. I had forgotten the world, outside this room and inside Apple Trees existed, but I wasn’t interested. I ate the dinner, then as it was still light, I sat down by the window and glanced through the paper. When I reached the financial page, I received a shock. Charrington and Pittsburgh steel corporations had merged! There was a photo of Jack Sonsan of Charrington steel looking smug. The report said that after six years of secret negotiations, Sonsan had finally persuaded Pittsburgh to take over. The Charrington shares had trebled overnight.
So drunk Marshall had been right and I had been wrong! This was the bitterest blow I had ever experienced. Had I waited before murdering him and let the deal go through both Beth and I would now be worth three million instead of less than one.
I sat there, absorbing this frustrating and bitter blow. Too late! With me, it seemed it was always to be too goddamn late! But at least I would get five hundred thousand out of her, but how hollow that sounded to a million and a half!
I remained by the window, watching Apple Trees until dark. I could hear the TV set in the living room. Mrs. Brody was occupied. Taking the Mauser and leaving my light on, I silently left the house and made my way to Apple Trees. Three quarters of the way up the dirt road there was a clump of shrubs and trees. I paused there. I could see Beth’s bungalow clearly so I got behind the shrubs, nursing the Mauser and prepared for a long wait. I could see the lights were on behind the red curtains in the living room and I wondered what was going on. I was sure Beth would get no help from Ross.
When fighting in the Vietnamese jungles, I had seen men go to pieces. Ross had gone to pieces and no amount of threats or persuasion from her would stiffen his broken spine.
So Beth would have to make up her mind either to handle me herself or pay up. One thing I was sure of: she was no quitter so I had to be prepared for her to do something desperate.
Around 23.30, I heard her coming down the road.
Trained in jungle warfare, to me, her cautious approach was pathetic. She had no idea how to move silently. She kicked stones, moved too fast, brushed against brambles and did everything I had been trained not to do.
It was moonless and dark, but I had been sitting there for three hours and my eyes were now accustomed to the dark. I saw her coming. She was wearing black, but her white face was a complete give away.
I got into a crouching position and waited. Then as she passed me, I jumped her. My hands gripped her arms, my knees slamming into her back. She went down with a stifled scream. It took a moment to wrest the gun out of her hands, then still kneeling on her, I said, ‘Not even a good try, Beth.’
She lay flat and still.
I shifted off her and stood up, moving away from her.
‘You have until tomorrow,’ I said.
Slowly, she got to her feet and faced me.
‘Don’t go buying another gun,’ I said. ‘You are not using your head. You would never get away with killing me. I’ve left a letter with my bank. It tells the whole story. So don’t try any more of this nonsense. Pay up or I’ll put ten slugs into lover boy.’
She just stood there, motionless and silent. I wish there had been enough light to see her face. All I could see was a white blob.
Then moving around her, I started back to Mrs. Brody’s bungalow. The gun I had taken from her wasn’t much: a .22. It could cause damage at close range, but useless at a distance.
Instinct, born in the jungle, alerted me to look back. She was coming at me like a charging wild cat. Her arm upraised.
Many Viets had come at me this way. It was too easy. I waited until she was almost on me, then dropped on hands and knees as the knife she was holding slashed harmlessly. Her knees thudded against my shoulder and she went flying, landing with a thud, face down, on the road.
Going over to her, I took the knife from her.
‘You have guts, Beth,’ I said, and meant it. ‘You are way out of my class. Go back to that gutless, yellow cop and tell him how brave you are.’
Holding the knife and the gun, I continued on down the dirt road, leaving her lying here.
When Mrs. Brody brought my breakfast, she said she had to spend the day with her sick friend.
‘She needs cheering up, Mr. Lucas and I’m good at cheering people up. I’ve left you some cold chicken and ham in the refrig, and tonight, I’ll give you a pot roast.’