He waited until nine o’clock, then he put a telephone call through to Marthy at head office. He explained that his replacement for Alice had suddenly gone off to get married and he needed another assistant in a hurry. Marthy promised to send someone as a temporary help on the next train. Then Calvin told him he had been offered a very good job in Florida. He intended getting married and had decided to give up banking. He said he would be glad if Marthy could release him at the end of the week.
Marthy immediately made difficulties. He pointed out that Calvin was under contract to the end of the month. The payroll robbery had still to be solved. Joe Lamb was still ill. It would be difficult to replace Calvin.
Calvin listened to all this with growing impatience.
‘Just the same,’ he said when Marthy had concluded, ‘I’m quitting. I’ll be out of here by the end of the week, and I’ll be glad to be shot of this one-eyed bank and this one-horse town. If you think you can stop me, go ahead and try.’
‘In that case,’ Marthy said curtly, ‘you will leave tomorrow. I’ll send someone down right away to relieve you,’ and he hung up.
Calvin dropped the receiver back on the cradle. He lit a cigarette and stared uneasily at the glowing tip. He had now burnt his bridge. He was out of a job. Maybe he shouldn’t have talked that way to Marthy. Then he thought of the three hundred thousand dollars now locked in the boot of the car and he grinned. What was he worrying about? Who wanted to be a bank manager with all that money to spend? He called Easton’s office.
A girl’s voice answered. There was a slight delay, then Easton came on the line.
Calvin saw a customer come in. The man waited impatiently to be served. Let him wait, Calvin thought, and asked Easton how he was. He listened to Easton griping about his stomach pains, then he cut in to tell him he was leaving the bank, getting married and going to Florida. He asked Easton if he would be his best man. Easton seemed to hesitate and Calvin wondered if he had rushed this too fast.
‘This is pretty sudden, isn’t it?’ Easton said. ‘What’s the idea — going to Florida?’
‘A pal of mine runs a restaurant there,’ Calvin said. ‘He wants a partner. It’s an opportunity too good to miss. Kit will come in handy too. Look, I’ve got someone waiting for me. We get married on Saturday. Can I count on you?’
‘Why, sure. Why not? Glad to help out.’ Easton didn’t sound glad. He was thinking enviously some people had all the luck. Here was this guy not only marrying a dish like the Loring woman, but getting himself a partnership as well. Talk about luck!
‘Fine and thanks,’ Calvin said. ‘See you before then,’ and he hung up.
He went out and cashed the customer’s cheque. From then on, he was kept busy. It was nearly eleven o’clock when the telephone bell rang. Calvin had two customers to serve and he let the bell ring. He became irritated when the bell continued to ring. Finally, when the customers had gone, he went into his office and snatched up the receiver.
‘This is Sheriff Thomson,’ the sheriff said. ‘I was beginning to think I wasn’t going to get an answer.’
‘I’m single-handed,’ Calvin snapped. ‘What is it?’
‘Could you get down to Bentley’s store right away, Mr. Calvin?’ the sheriff asked. ‘You know where it is? The big store they’re building on Eisenhower Avenue. When I say right away, I mean right away.’
Calvin thought the sheriff had gone off his head.
‘What do you mean?’ he snarled. ‘I don’t close the bank for another hour yet. What do I want with the store?’
There was a pause, then the sheriff said, ‘I’m sorry, Mr. Calvin, I’m trying to break this gently. There’s trouble down there… Mrs. Loring…’
Calvin felt as if an iron mailed fist had slammed against his heart. He clutched hold of the telephone receiver so tightly his finger nails turned white.
‘Mrs. Loring?’ His voice turned husky. ‘What… what…?’ He made an effort and pulled himself together. He went on, his voice under control, ‘Let’s have it, Sheriff. What’s the trouble?’
‘She’s up there on the scaffolding… the part where they’re building. She’s threatening to jump.’
Cold sweat fell on Calvin’s hand. Threatening to jump! If this rumdum killed herself there was the letter to be opened by her attorney: in the event of my death.
‘What are you doing about it?’ he found himself yelling.
‘Take it easy. We’re doing all we can, but there isn’t much we can do. The fire brigade is standing by. We’ve got men talking to her, but she won’t listen. I thought maybe you could talk her into some sense.’
‘Yeah… how long has this been going on? How long has she been up there?’
‘About half an hour. Can you get down here right away, Mr. Calvin?’
‘I’m coming,’ Calvin said and slammed down the receiver. He walked quickly out of his office.
There was a man waiting at the counter: a fat, peevish-looking character who drummed on the counter with well-manicured finger nails,
‘How much longer do I have to wait?’ he demanded, ‘I want to cash a cheque.’
‘The bank’s shut!’ Calvin said violently. ‘Clear out!’
The man gaped at him. His fat face fell to pieces at the sight of Calvin’s expression.
‘Go on… get out!’ Calvin snarled.
The man backed away, turned and hurried out of the bank. Calvin shut the doors and locked them. Then he ran out the back way where his car was parked.
He was thinking: this is it! You were crazy to have hooked up with an alcoholic. Unless I do something, she’ll kill herself, and then I’m finished. I shouldn’t have let her out of my sight! Well, I asked for it and now I’ve got it!
He climbed into his car and drove the half-mile fast. As he swung into Eisenhower Avenue, he saw the crowd and his heart kicked against his side.
A policeman waved him to a halt.
‘I’ve got to get through,’ Calvin said, leaning out of the car window. ‘Sheriff Thomson wants me to talk to the woman. She’s my fiancée. Get me through, will you?’
The policeman stared at him, recognised him and then nodded.
‘Okay, sir. You keep going slowly. They’ll let you through.’
He stood back and blew his whistle, motioning to another policeman some way ahead.
As Calvin edged his way through the crowd, he saw firemen standing by an escape and looking up. He saw men, women and children, with horror on their faces, also looking up. He controlled the impulse to stop the car and look up himself. He edged the car to the second policeman who shoved his way through the crowd towards him, his red face aggressive. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? Where do you think you’re going?’ he demanded.
‘She’s my fiancée,’ Calvin said in a hard, curt voice. ‘They think I can talk her down.’
The cop’s aggression went away.
‘Leave the car,’ he said. ‘You won’t get through this lot in a car. Sheriff Thomson is waiting for you.’
Calvin got out of the car. At the back of his mind, he remembered there was three hundred thousand dollars locked in the car’s boot. Out of the car, he looked up, following the gaze of some hundreds of people.
There was a new wing being added to Bentley’s store. The new wing consisted only of scaffolding and steel piping. Out on this skeleton foundation, some two hundred feet above the street was Kit. She was wedged in between the apex of a triangle formed by some of the steel poles. Her feet, one in front of the other, rested on one slim pole. A false move would send her down a long drop to death.
Calvin became rooted as he stared up at the distant figure. Kit was wearing slacks and a leather windcheater. She was smoking and seemed completely indifferent to the people staring up at her.