As she crossed over to answer it, she became aware of a faint, acrid smell that vaguely reminded her of funeral flowers.
She saw the trunk, black, large and stark, standing against the wall. She felt a cold shiver run down her back as she lifted the receiver.
“This is Joe.” The soft, timbreless voice sounded urgent.
“What happened?” she asked. “And what is this trunk doing here?”
“Don’t talk, listen,” Joe said. “Mr. Weidmann tricked me. I found he had his brother’s body in his room. The body has been embalmed. He wants to bring it to life. Rollo’s pretending he can bring it to life and he’ll make money out of it. Well, they can’t do it now. I’ve hidden the body. It was the only thing to do. Do you understand? Whatever happens they must not find the body.”
Susan sat rigid, the telephone clamped to her ear, her mind only half grasping what he was saying.
“I don’t understand,” she said, looking fearfully over her shoulder at the trunk. Her heart contracted and she began to tremble. “Body? What do you mean?”
“Don’t be soft,” Joe said fiercely. “The body’s embalmed. It doesn’t look very nice, but that can’t be helped. You needn’t look in the trunk.”
The room spun before Susan’s eyes. “No!” she cried. “Oh Joe . . . please . . .”
“I can’t talk anymore. Someone’s coming . . .” his voice broke off. There was a moment’s silence, then he said, “They’re here! He’s sent for them . . .” and the line went dead.
Joe put the telephone down on the table and looked at Rollo and Gilroy with sullen, expressionless eyes.
Kester Weidmann, his face working loosely, his eyes blank with grief, looked like a pygmy beside Rollo. He fluttered his hands at Rollo and then pointed to Joe.
“That’s Joe,” he said. “Joe’s a good boy. He’ll help. Where have you been, Joe? Cornelius has gone. Someone has taken him away.”
Joe felt Rollo’s eyes were watching him suspiciously.
“What do you mean—gone?” he said, through dry lips. “He was dead, wasn’t he?”
Weidmann wrung his hands. “Someone has taken him away,” he repeated.
Rollo put his hand on Weidmann’s arm. “I’ll get him back,” he said soothingly. “I want to talk to Joe. Suppose you go and lie down, Mr. Weidmann? You’re tired. Gilroy, see he goes to bed.” All the time he was talking he did not take his eyes off Joe.
“No! I couldn’t rest. I must find Cornelius,” Weidmann protested feebly, but Gilroy led him away and Rollo and Joe were left together.
“So you’re Joe,” Rollo said, coming further into the room. “Who were you telephoning to just now?”
“My girl,” Joe said, trying to keep calm. “I can phone my girl, can’t I?”
Rollo smiled. “Of course,” he returned, pulling a chair to the table and sitting down. He glanced round the room, ghostly and cold with its furniture hidden by dust sheets. “Tell me about her, Joe. Who is she?”
“That’s my business,” Joe said, backing away. “Who are you?”
“I should be careful how you talk to me,” Rollo said, still smiling, but his little eyes gleamed viciously. “Why did your master ask where you’ve been? Have you been out, Joe?”
Joe shook his head.
“Are you quite sure?”
“I’m sure,” Joe said, clenching his fists. “You’d better get out. You and the nigger. You’re not wanted here.”
Rollo glanced down at his great hands. “Your master asked me to come,” he said gently. “He’s in need of friends.”
Gilroy came back. “He’s resting,” he said to Rollo. “Have you found out anything?”
“Not yet, but I will,” Rollo said, watching Joe thoughtfully. “I think he did it, but I’m not quite sure.” He pointed at Joe. “You took Cornelius away, didn’t you?”
Joe sneered. “Why should I do a thing like that?” he said. “He’s dead. Who’d want a corpse?”
“Don’t be a young fool,” Rollo said, with a smile. “I can handle this better than you. Sit down. Let’s talk it over.”
Joe didn’t move.
“Sit down, Joe,” Rollo repeated, pointing to a chair on the other side of the table.
Joe drew in a sharp breath, hesitated and then walked stiffly to the chair and sat down.
“That’s better,” Rollo went on. “Now we can talk. You’re young. You can’t handle this yourself. Weidmann’ll pay big money to get his brother back. Let’s save time. You know where the body is. I can get the money out of Weidmann. Suppose you and I become partners? You can have a third of what I get out of Weidmann. How’s that?”
“If I knew where his brother was, I might think about it; but I don’t,” Joe said.
“Perhaps that wasn’t your girlfriend after all,” Rollo went on. “Perhaps it was the person you’ve taken Cornelius to?”
Joe didn’t say anything.
There was a long pause, then Rollo said softly, “I could persuade you to talk, Joe, but I don’t want to be dramatic. It would be so much better if you collaborated.”
“If I knew where he was I’d tell you,” Joe said, flinching inside.
The door pushed open and Butch wandered in. A cigarette hung from his lips and he looked at Joe with a thin smile.
Rollo said, “You’ve timed your entrance brilliantly.” He waved his hand across the table. “That’s Joe.”
“Yeah,” Butch said, leaning against the wall. “We’ve met before.”
Joe shivered. Why had he thought he could get away with this? Now that the man in the black shirt was here, his courage, his hopes and his determination melted away.
“Well, Joe, are you going to tell me, or do you want me to leave you alone with Butch for a little while?” Rollo asked.
Again Joe shivered. He knew if Butch tortured him he would not be able to keep silent. He knew his own limitations.
He had no stamina for pain. He had no courage to face Butch alone. He would talk all right. Then they would kill him.
He was sure of that. When they had killed him they would go to Susan’s place and they would find the trunk. Maybe they’d kill Susan, too, and the fat old geyser. And then they would bleed Kester white. All because he hadn’t the guts to keep his mouth shut.
He ran his tongue over his dry lips. “All right,” he said, “I’ll talk.”
Rollo nodded. “He seems afraid of you, Butch,” he said, and smiled.
Butch said, “Maybe I’d better soften him now.”
“We’ll hear what he has to say first. Well, Joe?”
“He’s here—in this house,” Joe said, not looking at any of them. “I knew what your game was, but there’s not much use going on, is there?”
Rollo leaned forward. “In this house?” he repeated. “So you didn’t go out?”
“Why should I?” Joe said. “How could I get a body away from here? No, I hid it upstairs.”
“He’s lying,” Butch said.
“It won’t help him,” Rollo returned. “It may gain him a few minutes but that’s all.”
“I’ll show you,” Joe said, getting to his feet. His heart thumped dully against his side and his mouth was dry. “He’s upstairs.”
“Where?” Rollo asked.
“He’s in the box-room at the top of the house.”
“Go and see,” Rollo said to Butch. “We’ll wait here.”
“You’ll never find it,” Joe said, with a satisfied smile. “But go if you want to.”
The three men stared at him. Rollo leaned forward. “You’ll be sorry if you trick us,” he said.
Joe looked at him. “He’s up there. You can all come. I’ll take you to him.”
“We’ll wait here,” Rollo said, after a moment’s thought. “Go with him, Butch, and be careful. I think he’s got something up his sleeve.”
Butch jerked his head to the door. “Come on,” he said, “and watch your step. If you try anything funny, I’ll tear your ears off.”