I told her not to worry. I would be busy all the morning and the cold chicken would be fine.
She left the house soon after 09.00. I now had the place to myself.
Today was the day.
Beth had made her try and had failed. Now it was my turn. Pay up or else! While eating my breakfast, I thought about her and Ross and wondered what they were saying to each other. Was she hatching up a new scheme to get rid of me? But time had run out for her. I was now confident she would pay up.
After breakfast, I sat at the table and typed out instructions to her as to how she was to pay the money to me. Five hundred thousand was a lump and I would have to spread it to avoid awkward questions. A hundred thousand could go to the Chase National branch who already had my account. Another hundred thousand could go to Wicksteed. The rest of the money could go to the American Fidelity Bank in Los Angeles where I once had an account.
Around 10.00, I phoned Beth.
When she answered, I said, ‘Today is the day, Beth. What’s the answer... yes or no?’
There was a pause, then she said in her cold, flat voice, ‘I want to talk to you.’
‘What’s there to talk about? It’s either yes or no. What is it?’
‘Bernstein says the probate is delayed. I won’t get the money for at least another month.’
‘Quit stalling! You can get credit. Tell Bernstein you must have five hundred thousand dollars by the end of the week. He’ll fix it.’
There was another long pause, then she said, ‘He’ll want to know why. What can I tell him?’
I felt a surge of triumph run through me.
‘So the answer is yes?’
‘I must talk to you. This is something I can’t discuss over the telephone.’
‘Is it yes or no?’ I barked.
‘I’m coming to see you now,’ and she hung up.
Another trick?
I went to the window and focussed the field glasses on Apple Trees. She appeared. She was wearing a tight-fitting dress and carried no handbag. Her hands were in sight. She wasn’t carrying a gun nor a knife. I left the front door open and then retreated to my room. I trusted her the way I would trust a rattlesnake. Holding the Mauser by my side, I waited.
After a while, I heard her at the door.
‘Come on in, Beth,’ I called.
A moment later she appeared in the passage, her hands clasped in front of her, her black eyes remote, her face deadpan.
I moved back, waving her into my room. She walked in and I shut the door.
She was the original ice woman. Moving to a chair, she sat down, crossed her legs and rested her hands in her lap. Her black, glittering eyes regarded me.
I went over to another chair away from her and sat down, holding the Mauser so she could see it.
‘Quit stalling, Beth... is it yes or no?’
Her cold remoteness fazed me.
‘I have something to say first,’ she said.
‘You have? Okay, then make it short. What do you want to say?’
I wanted to put pressure on her, but I could see she was determined to take her time. She leaned back, completely relaxed, then she smiled at me: that hateful, jeering little smile I had come to know.
‘I wanted to thank you for doing me the greatest favour anyone could have done for me.’
I stiffened, staring at her.
‘Favour? What do you mean?’
‘I’ll tell you. For years sex and men were the only things I could think about. To me, men were my food and drink. When Ross turned up, ruthless, young, marvellous in bed, I became utterly besotted with him. He was my ideal man: tough, ruthless and utterly wonderful, sexually. My life revolved around him. I could think of nothing else but him. When he wasn’t with me, I burned for him.’
I moved uneasily.
‘Do I have to listen to your erotic talk? I’m not interested, I...’
‘You had better listen!’ The snap in her voice cut me short. ‘He was ambitious. He longed for money. I married Frank, knowing he would be rich, only to please Ross. I told myself I would do anything so he could have the money, even letting a creep like you make love to me... even murder because I believed Ross was a real man.’ She lifted her hands in a gesture of despair, then let them drop to her lap. ‘What is a real man? Not you. You with all your talk about being an expert with money! Frank, drunk as he was, knew so much better than you did. I could have had three million instead of one million if you had let him alone to do that steel deal, but you thought you were so smart. Then you turned blackmailer. A real man? Ask yourself. How do you think you add up?’
‘Never mind the talk, Beth. That’s all water under the bridge,’ I said, hating her. ‘Anyone can make a mistake...’
She went on as if she hadn’t heard me. ‘For four years, I idolized Ross and now what do I find I have been idolizing?’ She leaned forward, her black eyes glittering and spat out the words: ‘A cringing, gutless, cowering coward! A yellow creep who is so frightened he is impotent! A louse who cringes in a dark room because he is afraid of you... that’s what I find I have got!’ She drew in a deep breath, then went on, ‘So that’s why I am thanking you for a big favour. You have shown me the kind of gutless louse I thought I loved. Well, thanks to you, I love him no more. I now hate the sight of him. Go ahead and shoot him. That’s all he deserves. You are not getting one cent from me! Go ahead and shoot him. I’ll be glad to be rid of him!’
I stared at her. Looking at her hard deadpan face, I felt a sudden uneasiness. I told myself she was bluffing. She had to be bluffing!
‘You don’t fool me!’ I shouted at her. ‘I’ll kill him! That’s for real, but I’ll give you one more chance. Now come on... you know you are bluffing and I don’t bluff.’
She got up and walked to the door.
‘Wait, Beth!’
She paused and looked at me. Her contemptuous little smile was like a knife thrust.
‘I’m going to have that money!’ I yelled at her. ‘You either pay up or Ross gets shot!’
She nodded.
‘I would like that. Do me a favour... kill him,’ and leaving the room, she walked down the passage.
I jumped up and ran to the door.
‘Beth!’
She didn’t pause. She opened the front door and walked out into the sunshine and back to Apple Trees.
Was she bluffing?
I sat at the window, staring at Apple Trees. I watched her walk into the bungalow and shut the door. The red curtains were still drawn. Was Ross cringing in the darkened room or was he waiting for her, a grin on his face while she told him of her bluff?
I fingered the Mauser.
Then I suddenly realized, if she wasn’t bluffing, if she really had had enough of Ross, I would have to think twice about going out there and shooting him.
I had got away with Marshall’s murder, but shooting Ross was something I couldn’t hide up. Beth would call the police and give them some story that I was blackmailing her and Ross had tried to protect her and I had shot him. With Bernstein and her money behind her, I wouldn’t stand a prayer.
My bluff had looked good to me, but she had called it. So long as she was infatuated with Ross, my threat stood up, but Ross, turning coward, had fixed me. With sick frustration, I knew now I wouldn’t kill him.
I could think of no other way to get the money from her. Once again I had the sickening feeling that no matter what I did to lay my hands on big money, I always fluffed it.
I had to admit it. Beth had beaten me. There was now no reason for me to stay in this little house. I would pack and get out. I thought of my life ahead: grabbing at any damn job for eating money. Then I remembered Bert and his offer to make me his partner. Why not? I remembered what Sheriff McQueen had said: Why not stay on at Wicksteed? Bert still wants you to be his partner. Why not? I thought of Wicksteed and Mrs. Hansen and Maisie and the rest of them: a nice little town and nice people. Why not? I could settle there. Maybe later, I could get married. Suddenly, I didn’t give a damn about Marshall’s million nor Beth nor Ross. I would go back to Wicksteed. I would help Bert set up a U-drive service. I’d organize a Travel agency for him. In a couple of years, I could be as prosperous as Joe Pinner!