Two or three minutes later, three police cars swung on to the dirt road and went tearing up the hill towards the forestry station. I let them get on well ahead, then, scrambling to my feet, I ran as hard as I could back to the Buick.
It wasn’t until I was back in Dester’s big, silent house and in the room that Marian had used before moving over to my apartment that the full impact of what Helen’s death meant hit me.
Too much had happened immediately after finding her to give my mind a chance to do more than accept the stunning fact that she was dead, but now, as I sat in a lounging chair, dry-mouthed, my heart still pounding, I realized that in some way I had caused her death.
I remembered in my panic I had hit her far harder than I intended to, but surely a blow on the jaw couldn’t have killed her? It worried me that there had been no congestion of her face to point that she had been suffocated. The police couldn’t charge me with murder if I had left her alive and she had died later because of the gag. The best they could do would be to try to pin a manslaughter rap on me, but if I had killed her with my fist, then they could charge me with murder.
I cursed myself for ever starting this thing. There was now no question of ever getting hold of the three-quarters of a million. I was in a hell of a jam. Below, in the kitchen, was Dester’s body. Very soon the house and its contents would be valued to meet the creditors’ demands, and then the deep-freeze cabinet was certain to be inspected. I had to move his body somewhere before that happened.
If I could plant his body somewhere without being seen, was I safe? I asked myself. From what I had heard, Bromwich was already suspicious of me, but could he prove anything? Had I left any clue in the hut that would give me away? The greatest thing in my favour was that I had no motive for killing Dester or Helen.
What would happen if the police found Dester’s body if I were lucky enough to be able to dump it somewhere? Would they think the kidnappers had lost their nerve, and after accidentally killing Helen, had shot Dester?
Bromwich had seemed to think that Dester had murdered Helen. Suddenly I saw how I could save myself, providing I had a little luck.
If I could get Dester out of the deep-freeze cabinet and take his body somewhere, get his gun that I had lodged in the safe deposit and put it in his hand, wouldn’t it be possible that Bromwich would think that after killing Helen, Dester had had a fit of remorse and had killed himself?
After all Dester had actually shot himself. I had only to put the gun in his hand to turn the clock back. I got to my feet and began to pace up and down while I thought about this idea. The police couldn’t prove that Dester had died more than a week ago. They would think he died when I got him out of the freezer. That part of the original scheme still stood.
The advantage of this new scheme was that I need not take Dester’s body out of the grounds. I could carry his body into a quiet part of the garden and dump him there with his gun in his hand. When he was found the police would think he had returned to the house to get the gun. I could tell them that I knew he kept a gun in his desk drawer. I could even leave a half-finished confession note in the typewriter.
The more I thought about this idea the more I was convinced that it would let me out. Marian wasn’t in the house any longer. I would be free to get him out of the cabinet whenever I was ready.
But she would have to hear the sound of the shot when he was supposed to kill himself. That was essential. I wanted the police to find him quickly. If he had any spare cartridges the hearing of the shot would present no difficulties. When I had set the stage, all I had to do was to fire a shot into the air, take out the shell case, put a new cartridge into the gun and the gun into his hand, then run back to the house. By the time Marian called me up to know what the shot meant I should be back.
I went at once to Dester’s room to hunt for a box of cartridges. After a five-minute feverish search, I found the box tucked under a pile of shirts. I took a cartridge from the box and put it in my pocket.
There was nothing I could do this night. First I had to get the gun from the safe deposit. I would get it in the morning, then I would stage the suicide the same night. That meant I would have to turn off the motor of the deep-freeze cabinet some time during the morning. By midnight, Dester’s body would be almost back to normal and I would be able to handle him. The thought of taking him out and carrying him into the garden scared me, but I had to do it. I couldn’t risk letting the police investigate me. I had to lead them away from myself and fix their attention on Dester.
It was getting on for two o’clock by the time I went to bed. My mind was a lot easier. If I could only pull this off I was out in the open again, and I could get away from this house and put the whole nightmare business behind me.
It had taught me a lesson, I told myself. No more quick-rich schemes. I’d get back to my advertising work. I didn’t have to work for Solly. I could get a job with some other firm. I’d work at it this time. Then when Marian came back from Rome we’d get married.
I was so sold on the feeling that I was going to get myself out of this jam that I drifted off into a dreamless sleep, and it wasn’t until Marian disturbed me by moving about downstairs that I woke up around nine o’clock.
When I had shaved, showered and dressed I came downstairs. She had put a tray of coffee, soft-boiled eggs and toast on the terrace and we had breakfast together.
‘At eleven o’clock Burnett’s coming over,’ I said. ‘I’d be glad if you would help me. I’ve got to list Dester’s debts and put his papers in order.’
Up to now she hadn’t said anything about leaving. If I was to stage this scheme of mine tonight, it was essential that she should be here. I had to have a reliable and independent witness to the hearing of the shot.
After we had washed up the dishes, we went into Dester’s study and Marian and I started in to work. We ransacked all the desk drawers and piled the papers we found there on the desk. Then we went through them, Marian calling out the amounts of the bills while I noted them down. We had been doing this for over a half an hour when suddenly she stopped. I looked up to see she was staring at a long envelope with a heavy seal on the back of it.
‘What have you got there?’ I asked sharply.
‘It was among all these bills.’
She passed it to me.
I looked at it and read the inscription.
For the attention of Mr. Edwin Burnett. Erle Dester’s Last Will and Testament. June 6th 1955.
I stared at it for a long moment. For no reason at all that I could think of this slim envelope made me uneasy. I wanted to open it, but with Marian watching me, I knew I couldn’t do that.
I laid it down. ‘I’ll give it to him. From the look of things, Dester hadn’t much to leave.’
My voice sounded odd in my ears. It must have sounded odd to Marian for she looked quickly at me.
‘Let’s get on. These guys will be here in half an hour.’
We were still at it when Burnett’s car arrived. I had by then some idea of what Dester owed. As far as I could judge it was around twenty-seven thousand. His assets were two thousand in the bank, the house, the two cars and the contents of the house. With any luck and with a good auctioneer, it should be possible to raise the money to pay off his creditors.
As Burnett was getting out of his car, another car came up the drive: this time a police car.
Marian and I stood in the open doorway while Burnett turned to meet the occupants of the other car. From it got a big, beefy man with a purple complexion and close-set, hard eyes, Lieutenant Bromwich and Sergeant Lewis and another man who immediately held my attention.