Seaborne’s car was a battered 1950 Pontiac: a car he carted his six children around in when he came down here. I drove the Pontiac out on to the road, left it with its engine ticking over, then I got into the Cadillac and backed it into the garage, shut and locked the doors. I dropped the key into my pocket.
I got into the Pontiac and drove fast to the highway. It took me ten minutes to reach the beach road.
I approached the intersection cautiously. There were about six cars parked along the grass verge, their dipped headlamps making puddles of light along the road. A bunch of men and women were standing together looking towards the head of the beach road. Blocking the entrance to the road were two speed cops, standing beside their parked motor-cycles.
With my heart slamming against my ribs, I pulled up behind | the last of the parked cars and got out.
There was a fat man with a Panama hat resting on the back of his head standing alone by his car, his hands in his trouser pockets, staring at the speed cops.
I walked over to him.
‘What goes on?’ I said, trying to make my voice sound casual. ‘What’s the trouble?’
He turned to look at me. It was dark, and the lights from the headlights of the cars reflected downwards. He could see my legs and feet, but there wasn’t much else of me he could see to recognize later.
‘An accident,’ he said. ‘A cop got himself killed. I’ve always said these cops ask for trouble the way they get in front of you. Well, this one pulled that stunt once too often.’
I felt cold sweat break out on my face.
‘Killed?’
‘Yeah: a hit-and-run job. Can’t say I blame the guy who did it. If I was unlucky enough to kill a cop, and there were no witnesses, damned if I would stick around and apologize. If they catch him, they’ll crucify him. I’ve always said the cops in this town are no better than the Nazis were.’
‘Killed him, did you say?’ I scarcely recognized my voice.
‘That’s right: ran over his head. He must have hit the side of the car, and then the poor devil must have fallen under the rear wheel.’ He pointed to a tall, thin man who was talking busily to the crowd. ‘That’s the fella who found him: the one in the grey suit. He told me. He said the poor guy’s face was like a sponge of blood.’
Suddenly one of the speed cops came stalking across the road.
‘Hey, you bunch of vultures!’ he bawled, his voice violent and tough. ‘I’ve had about enough of you. Get out of here! You hear me? It’s swine like you in your hunks of metal who cause the accidents! Get out of here! Get out, the lot of you!’
The fat man said out of the corner of his mouth: ‘See what I mean—a Nazi,’ and he walked over to his car.
I went back to the Pontiac, started the engine, made a U-turn and drove back fast to the bungalow.
When I walked into the lounge, I found Lucille huddled up in one of the big easy chairs. She looked very small and defenceless and frightened, and her face was the colour of old parchment.
As I came into the lounge, she stiffened and stared up at me.
‘Is it all right, Ches?’
I went over to the cocktail cabinet, poured myself a double whisky, added a little water and drank thirstily.
‘No, I wouldn’t say it is all right,’ I said, moving to a chair near hers. I sat down, not looking at her.
‘Oh.’
There was a long pause, then she said: ‘Were you able… did you see…?’
‘The police were there.’ I couldn’t bring myself to tell her she had killed him. ‘I didn’t see him.’
Again there was a pause, then: ‘What do you think we should do, Ches?’
I looked at the clock on the overmantel. It was now twenty minutes past eleven.
‘I don’t think we can do anything,’ I said.
I saw her stiffen.
‘You mean we don’t do anything at all?’
‘That’s what I mean. It’s getting late. I’m going to take you home.’
She sat forward, her hands on her knees, and she stared at me.
‘But, Ches, surely we must do something? I should have stopped. It was an accident, of course, but I should have stopped.’ She began to beat her fists on her knees. ‘He might recognize me if he sees me again. He might have taken the number of the car. Surely we must do something?’
‘I finished the whisky and put the glass down, then I got to my feet.
‘Come on. I’ll take you home.’
She remained motionless, her eyes wide and staring.
‘You’re keeping something from me, aren’t you? What is it?’
‘It’s bad, Lucille,’ I said. ‘As bad as it can be, but you don’t have to be frightened.’
‘What do you mean?’ Her voice was suddenly shrill.
‘You ran over him.’
She clenched her fists.
‘Oh, no! Is he badly hurt?’
‘Yes.’
‘Take me home, Ches. I must tell Roger.’
‘You can’t tell him,’ I said. ‘He can’t do anything.’
‘Oh, but he can. He’s a friend of the Captain of Police. He’ll be able to explain.’
‘Explain what?’
‘That I have only just learned to drive, of course. That it was an accident.’
‘I’m afraid that won’t make any impression.’
She became rigid, her eyes opening wide with terror.
‘Is he so badly hurt? You don’t mean—he’s dead?’
‘Yes. You’ll have to know sooner or later. Yes, he’s dead.’
She closed her eyes and her hands went to her breasts.
‘Oh, Ches…’
‘Now, don’t panic.’ I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘There’s nothing we can do about it—anyway, for the moment. We’re in a jam, but if we don’t lose our heads…’
She stared at me, her lips trembling.
‘But you weren’t in the car. It’s nothing to do with you. It was my fault.’
‘We’re in this thing together, Lucille. If I hadn’t behaved as I did, you wouldn’t have rushed away like that. It’s as much my fault as yours.’
‘Oh, Ches…’
She dropped her face down on the settee and began to sob.
I watched her for a moment or so, then, getting up, I put my arms around her and pulled her against me.
‘What will they do to us?’ she gasped, her hands gripping my arms.
‘You mustn’t worry about that,’ I said. ‘There’s nothing we can do until we see what the newspapers say tomorrow. Then we must decide.’
‘Suppose someone saw me hit him?’
‘No one did. There was no one on the beach.’ My hands tightened around her. ‘Did you pass any car after you hit him?’
She pushed away from me, got unsteadily to her feet and wandered over to the window.
‘I don’t think so. I can’t remember.’
‘It’s important, Lucille. Try to remember.’
She came back to the divan and sat down.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘All right. Now listen, we must discuss this tomorrow after we’ve seen the papers. Will you come down here? There’s nowhere else I can think of where we can have an uninterrupted talk. Can you get here about ten?’
She was staring at me, her eyes empty holes in her face.
‘Will they send me to prison?’ she asked.
That gave me a horrible jolt. I realized if they caught her they would send her to prison. You can’t kill a policeman and get away with it. You might kill anyone accidentally, and if you had a top-flight attorney you might beat the rap, but not if you killed a policeman.
‘Stop talking like that! It won’t get you anywhere. What time will you be here tomorrow? Can you get here by ten?’
‘Are you sure we shouldn’t do anything?’ She began to beat her clenched fists together. ‘If they find out…’