1956 - There's Always a Price Tag (11 page)

She was staring at him now as if she had thought he had gone crazy.

'If the police say I have killed myself, the insurance company won't pay out. But if the police say I have been murdered, then the insurance company will have to pay out. Are you following all this? Can you see the trap I am setting for you? Now do you see what I mean when I told you I am giving you the opportunity of punishing yourself? The bait in the trap is worth three-quarters of a million. You have only to fake clues, tell enough lies to turn my suicide into a murder, and then - if you have been very clever and you haven't made any mistakes - you will get the money.'

Something cold dropped on to my hand. I found I was sweating. Looking across at Helen, I saw her face was white and she was as rigid as a statue.

'I don't know what happens when one dies,' Dester went on, 'but odd things can happen. It may be I shall be able to watch you after I am dead. I hope so for it will be amusing.' He lit another cigarette while he stared at Helen. 'I have an idea you won't be able to resist the bait. You will try to turn my suicide into murder. I don't think you are clever enough to pull it off, not against a man of Maddux's brains. It is only fair to warn you that he is exceptional. You could so easily make a mistake and you might then find yourself charged with my murder, which would be rather funny considering you have already tried to murder me, wouldn't it? I have made it still more complicated for you by asking Nash here to listen to all this. But he may not be impossibly difficult. You have a way with men, and it is possible you may persuade him to keep his mouth shut or even help you. After all, three-quarters of a million is a very large sum, and in return for a share in the money, he might be persuaded to help you.'

Helen jumped to her feet

'I'm not listening to any more of this!' she exclaimed. 'You drunken fool! You wouldn't have the nerve to kill yourself. Keep your rotten money! I don't want it! There are plenty of other fish in the sea besides you! Go to hell and stay there!'

She flung back the door and stormed out into the hall. I watched her run up the stairs, and a moment later, a door slammed violently.

I got up. I was sweating and shaking.

'And I guess I don't want to hear any more either,' I said, and without looking at him I walked into the hall, jerked open the front door and walked down the steps.

I was halfway to the garage when I heard the sound of a shot. The bans rattled the windows of the house and stopped me as if I had walked into a wall.

For a long moment I stood motionless, then turning, I ran back to the house and up the steps and into the hall.

At the head of the stairs, white-faced, her eyes wide, was Helen.

I looked up at her.

'Go and see,' she said in a hoarse whisper. I braced myself, then crossed the hall and opened the study door.

chapter six

D
ester had fallen forward across the desk. Blood from his smashed skull made a growing pool on the blotter that was absorbing most of it. The .38 automatic I had seen him with lay on the floor near his feet.

I didn't have to touch him to know he was dead. With such a terrible head injury he had to be dead.

I stood staring at him, my mind vacant with horror. I couldn't believe he had done this thing, then jerking my eyes away, I walked to the door and out into the hall.

Helen had come down the stairs. She stood motionless, staring at me.

'Is he dead?' she asked.

'Yes.' My own voice was as shaky as hers.

'The mad, drunken fool! I thought he hadn't the nerve to do it.'

She went past me and into his study.

I felt a trickle of cold sweat run down the side of my face, and I put my hand in my pocket for my handkerchief. My fingers touched the envelope containing the letter he had asked me to post. I pulled it out, stared at it for a long moment, then I slit the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper. I read the letter, my mind only half aware of its meaning. Then I read it again:

From Erle Dester June 19th

256 Hill Crest Avenue

Hollywood

My Dear Burnett,

Because of your years of experience as an attorney, I don't suppose what I am about to write to you will shock you over much. I've come to the end of things, and tonight I intend to shoot myself. You know enough about my affairs to realize as I do that there is now no future for me.

You know too how badly Helen has treated me. I have no intentions of letting her profit by my death. I have seen Maddux of the National Fidelity Insurance Company and have arranged with him to cancel the clause in the policy covering self-destruction. The new clause covering this is attached to the policy which you will find in the right-hand top drawer of my desk.

So the position is that since I am shooting myself the policy will be cancelled. However, Helen is desperate for money, and three-quarters of a million is a tempting sum. It is possible she may be desperate enough to attempt to defraud the insurance company. She could do so by making my suicide appear to be murder. This sounds far-fetched to you, doesn't it? But I know Helen a lot better than you do. I have a young fellow working for me: his name is Glyn Nash, and it is possible Helen may fake my suicide to look as if I had been murdered by him or some unknown person. If she does do this, I am most anxious that you should not interfere. I have no doubt that Maddux will find her out, but if she succeeds or if she makes a mistake that will endanger her life, you will then, of course, take action and show this letter to the police.

I feel a short term in prison for attempted fraud would do her a lot of good. You think I am being vindictive? Perhaps I am, but I
feel justified.

To satisfy your legal mind I am asking Miss Lennox to witness my signature. I repeat again that I am killing myself, and no matter what Helen says, this is not a case of murder but of suicide.

Miss Lennox has, of course, no knowledge of the contents of this letter.

So long.

ERLE DESTER

Witness: MAY LENNOX

Secretary,

1145c Marlin Avenue

Hollywood.

'What are you doing?' Helen asked sharply. I turned and looked at her. White-faced, she stood in the doorway, watching me.

I folded the letter and put it in my pocket.

'What are you reading?' she asked.

I scarcely heard her. I was remembering his words: You have only to fake clues, tell enough lies to turn my suicide into murder, and then - if you have been very clever and you haven't made any mistakes - you will get the money.

Three-quarters of a million!

I realized that his letter gave me protection if I could only think of a way to turn his suicide into murder. If I made a mistake, if I was found out, I had only to produce this letter to keep out of trouble.

'Glyn!'

It was the first time she had ever called me by my first name.

'Wait,' I said. 'Don't do anything. Let me think.'

'We must get a doctor and call the police,' she said. 'I'll use the phone upstairs.'

'Wait!' I said again.

There was a note in my voice that stopped her dead. She stared at me.

'Don't call them yet. Don't do anything. Go upstairs and wait for me.'

'But we must tell them...'

I went up to her and taking her by the arms I gave her a vicious little shake.

'Do what I tell you! Wait for me upstairs!'

She must have seen by my face that this was no time to argue.

I went into Dester's study and stood looking at him. If only I could put the clock back. If only I had time to think out a perfect murder plan. If only I had known the fool was going to kill himself so I could have set the stage.

Three-quarters of a million!

It was worth any risk except a murder rap and I didn't have to bother about that. His letter would keep me in the clear if I slipped up and the police thought I had killed him.

If he would only stay just as he was until I had time to work out a foolproof plan. In a little while rigor mortis would set in. A police surgeon would know to within an hour when he died. The police would then find out that both Helen and I were in the house when he died. If I hid the gun to make it look like murder, they would think we had either faked the murder or had actually murdered him: either way we wouldn't get the money. We needed to have perfect alibis. We needed to prove we were miles away when he died.

Time was everything, and that was the one thing I hadn't got.

I stood there, watching him bleed, while I racked my brains for an idea.

The house was silent. The only sounds that came to me were the faint ticking of the desk clock and the steady thumping of my heart. Then above these sounds, but so faint that if I hadn't been standing still I shouldn't have heard it, came the gentle rumble of the deep-freeze cabinet motor starting up.

That sound nudged my brain alive. I saw then how I could turn the clock back. I hadn't worked as a refrigerator salesman for two years without learning what a refrigeration plant can do. Before I was turned loose on to the road I had taken a six-weeks' course on the principles of refrigeration. Among the things I had learned was the use of a refrigerating plant in morgues and its effects on a dead body.

I saw at once that I now had the means to make Dester stay just as he was until I had time to work out a foolproof plan.

Given any luck, I knew I was now only one jump away from getting my hands on those seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

* * *

A little over an hour later, I went upstairs to Helen's room.

She had drawn the curtains. The bedside lamp was on, casting shadows. She lay on the bed, in an oyster-coloured silk wrap, her face fine drawn and pale, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

I leaned against the door and looked at her and she looked at me without moving.

'Why have you been all this time?' she asked. 'Have you called the police?'

I walked across to one of the lounging chairs, set a bottle of whisky, two glasses and a bottle of Whiterock on the table and sat down.

'No. I haven't called them.'

'What do you think you're doing?' she asked sharply and half sat up. 'You must call them.'

I made two big drinks, carried one over to her and put it on the bedside table, then I went back to the chair, sat down again and took a long pull at my glass.

'Glyn! Why haven't you called the police?' she said, her voice shrill.

'You heard what he said,' I returned. 'He said if we were very clever and made no mistakes we could get the money. You want the money, don't you?'

She swung her legs off the bed and sat up. Her green eyes were glittering like emeralds.

'What do you mean? He's set a trap for us. You don't think I'm going to be such a fool as to try to get the money now I know there is a trap, do you?'

'Listen: we can get that money. The National Fidelity will have to pay up if we can prove to them he was murdered.'

'That is exactly what he wanted us to do,' she said. 'We're not going to do it. We can't prove he was murdered unless we involve ourselves. What do you imagine I have been doing up here all this time? I've thought about it. If we hide the gun and say he was murdered, they'll pick on us. If we had time to think of something, time to arrange an alibi, we might do it, but we haven't time. He's dead. They'll know when he died. We've got to call the police at once!'

'But we have got the time,' I said.

She stared at me.

'What do you mean?'

'What I say. We have got the time. We have all the time in the world.'

'We haven't! He won't remain like he is for long. You must know that. A doctor can tell when he died.'

'I have put him in the deep-freeze cabinet,' I said.

'What?'

She started to her feet.

'I have put him in the deep-freeze cabinet.'

'You must be mad!'

'Shut up and listen,' I said quietly. 'I'm not mad. I know what I'm doing. What you don't know is I'm something of an expert in refrigeration. I used to sell deep-freeze cabinets. Before I was turned loose on the suckers, I took an intensive course on the subject so I would know all the answers when the suckers tried to act smart. The reason why Dester was so sure he had laid a foolproof trap for us was because he was certain we would have no time to fake alibis nor to think up a smart plan. He was relying on the fact that a doctor can tell within an hour or two when a man dies. Dester died at eight-forty, and no doubt the police could prove that we were both in the house at that time. That was what Dester was relying on. By putting him in the deep-freeze, I've beaten him. At that temperature the normal process of deterioration is arrested. Bleeding will stop; rigor mortis won't set in. We can keep him in the cabinet for six weeks or six months, and it is only when we take him out that deterioration begins. Are you following all this?' I leaned forward and stared at her. 'When we take him out and after some hours, he will begin to bleed again, and later rigor mortis will set in. Look, let me put it even plainer: suppose we keep him in the cabinet until next Saturday week, then we take him out and dump his body somewhere. Suppose the police find him the following day. The police surgeon would be ready to swear that he died on Saturday when in reality he died fifteen days before. Don't you see how simple it has made it for us?'

She sat still, her fists clenched. I thought I could hear the faint thudding of her heartbeats, but the sound might have been my own heart hammering against my side.

'No!' she exclaimed suddenly. 'I won't have anything to do with it. It's too dangerous. They'll find out.'

'What's the matter with you? You didn't worry about throwing Van Tomlin out of the window, did you?'

'I didn't throw him out!'

'That's your story. You're in a much safer position now.'