11
“That’s using the old head,” I told her. I sat down on the chair at the end of the coffee table, between them. “You and I are going to get along fine, honey.”
“I am flattered,” she said.
“Now, let’s work it out.”
“What do you mean?” ,
“Julia, I tell you—” Tallant interrupted.
I waved a hand at him. “Shut up. I’m talking to one of the men.”
He started to rise, his face ugly. For an instant I was afraid I’d pushed him too far; after all, I still had that tape on me, even if they didn’t suspect it. If he went crazy and lost his head enough to jump me they might find it. I had to be more careful.
But I couldn’t let him know he had me worried. “Why don’t you scram, Tallant? You’re just getting in the way.”
“And leave her here alone with you?”
“Cut it out, will you? I’m not going to hurt her. We’re just talking business, and we need you like we need a fourth for bridge.”
“You might as well go, Dan,” she said. “There’s no use starting a fight.”
“But, damn it, Julia—”
“Let me handle it, please.”
“Don’t you understand? Listen, if you give in to him, you’ll never get him off your back—”
“Do you have any other suggestion?” she asked coldly. “It would seem to me you’ve bungled enough already.”
“Bungled! Listen, who let him plant that recorder in here?”
“Will you go?” she asked.
“Make up your minds, will you?” I said. “That maid will be back here in a few minutes.”
“All right! All right!” Tallant stood up, his face dark with rage. “If you’re going to let yourself be pushed around by this thug—”
“You don’t catch on very fast, do you?” I asked. “There’s nothing else you can do.”
“He’s right,” she said wearily. “Can’t you see it?”
“I’d never pay blackmail—”
“Who’s asking you to?” I said. “Hell, you couldn’t pay for a drink. Beat it.”
He stared down at me for an instant, and then turned silently and went out. The front door slammed. I breathed a little easier. He’d been on the ragged edge of losing his head.
She picked up a cigarette from the box on the table. I held a match across to her, and then lit one for myself. She stood up, walked slowly across to the rear window, and then came back to perch on the arm of the sofa, diagonally across the table from me. She was a smooth-looking dish.
I leaned back in the chair. “With your looks you could have done better.”
She raised her eyebrows and said coldly, “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re a tough number, and a smooth one. A realist, and you’ve got a head on you. But why’d you go for that character? He’s acting like an overgrown kid.”
She regarded me coolly. “I believe you wanted to discuss something with me. Would you mind coming to the point?”
“Sure,” I said. “Money.”
“Precisely. And what about it?”
“Just this. We’ve been tossing a lot of big words around, but let’s take a closer look. A hundred thousand dollars in cash makes a nice musical sound when you say it, but when you start to break it down it gets complicated. First, nobody keeps anything like that in a checking account, no matter how much he has. Second, even if he did he’d still cause a hell of a lot of talk when he started drawing it out in cash. So let’s hear something specific. How, where, when, and so on.”
She leaned forward and knocked ash into a tray. “I can raise it.”
“Fill me in.”
“Is it any of your business, as long as I do it?”
“Sure. Take a look. I can get in the wringer, too, if we’re not careful. I’ve been here to see you a couple of times. Then you go to your bank and say you want to raise a hundred grand in cash. What for? To pay the light bill, you say. This is a small town. Talk gets started.”
The brown eyes regarded me with level speculation. “Well, perhaps if you named some more reasonable figure, say ten thousand, it might be easier—”
I shook my head. “Unh-unh.”
“Twenty?”
“Come off it, baby. I’ve been around, too. We understand each other better than that.”
She shrugged. “I was afraid we did.”
“Well, nice try, anyway. But now, let’s get on. How are you going to raise it, and how long will it take?”
She thought for a moment. Then she said, “It’ll take about a week, and it can all be handled in Houston, which should be safe enough as far as gossip is concerned. I have securities—mostly common stocks and railroad bonds—sufficient to cover it. They can be converted easily. I’ll place a sell order with the brokerage firm down there, and they’ll give me a check for the proceeds. I deposit the check in a Houston bank, and when it clears, draw out the cash and give it to you. They may wonder at it, but not seriously. Banks deal with eccentrics all the time.”
I had to admire her coolness. She could have been merely figuring out her share of a luncheon tab. “You’re an unflustered tomato,” I said.
She shrugged again. “What would you like? Hysterics? I learned to face facts very early in life. If there were any way out I’d fight you right down to the ground, but when there isn’t, why not accept it?”
“Good for you.” I stood up. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
“I can assure you it’s no pleasure as far as I’m concerned. I wish you’d never been born.”
“It’s just the breaks, Brown Eyes. Some days you can’t murder a soul without getting caught at it.” I yanked the microphone cord out of the back of the sofa and pulled out the power plug. She watched me.
“You unlatched one of the doors when you were here yesterday?” It was more a statement than a question.
I nodded toward the door in back of the drape. “That one.”
“Clever. And I thought you were an utter idiot.”
“Well, better luck next time, honey.” I closed the recorder. “Just so we don’t start anybody thinking, I won’t come around here any more, but I’ll be in touch with you by phone to see how you’re coming along raising the geetus.”
“Where will you be? Here in town?”
“No. Out there at the fishing camp. It’ll look better that way. Now, let’s see. This is Thursday, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, how about a week from today, in Houston? Think you can do it by then?”
“Yes. And can you have the tape back from your fellow thug by that time?”
“I think so.” I started for the door, and then turned. “Anyway, we’ll be in touch. And just one more thing. Better caution Tallant about flipping his lid and trying something silly. Remember, if anything happens to me you’ll both land in Death Row.”
She said nothing. I went on out and got in the car. On the way out of town I stopped at a small grocery and bought a dozen cans of beer and some more supplies for the kitchen. I picked up a roll of the plastic film they use to wrap things in a refrigerator with, and two rolls of Scotch tape. I bought fifty pounds of ice, wrapped it in an old blanket, and shoved off for the lake.
It was a little before ten when I swung off onto the road going into the swamp. I met no one. About four miles in, where the road wound through a heavy stand of pine on a hillside dropping away to the bottom, I slowed. In a moment I found it, a faint trace of an old logging road leading off to the left. It had been unused for years and the ruts were sifted over with dead pine needles. I pulled off onto it and went ahead until the car was out of sight of anyone going by. When I stopped and cut the engine there was dead silence except for a faint whisper of breeze through the tops of the pines. I took the roll of tape out of my pocket and began wrapping it in the plastic, stretching the film tightly for a good waterproof seal. I used the whole roll, and then bound it solidly with the Scotch tape. When I had finished I got out, took the jack handle from the trunk, and looked about for a likely spot. Off to the left some fifteen or twenty yards, vines grew around an old stump. I parted them, scooped out a hole with the jack handle, and buried the package, tamping the soil down neatly and carefully rearranging the pine needles and leaves over it. Nobody would ever find it. I turned the car about and drove back on the road. After I was back in the ruts, I backed up and then came forward again to erase the tracks leading in.
The cabin lay in mottled shade from the big oaks around it as I drove into the clearing. I unlocked the front door and went inside. Starting a fire in the cook-stove, I burned the carbon copy of the letter and the rest of the typing paper, along with the carton the plastic wrap had come in. Then I took the typewriter outside and locked it in the trunk of the car with the recorder.
I brought in the ice and put it in the box, and piled the beer cans on it. After I had arranged the groceries on the shelves, I opened some pork and beans and ate them out of the can to save dishwashing. Punching one of the cans of beer, I took it out on the porch and lit a cigarette. I was tired from being up all night, but too excited to be sleepy. It was wonderful. I had it made; in one stroke I’d tied them up and left them with no way out except to pay me. A week from today I’d meet her in Houston, she’d hand me a fortune in good, hard cash, and I’d be on my way. Nobody would ever know.
After I had finished the beer I put on swim trunks and went down to the pier. The skiff, moored to it with a padlock and chain, was half full of rainwater. I bailed it out and then went for a swim. The water was warm and fairly clear now in late summer. I climbed out and lay down on the pier in the shade of the big oaks overhanging it, conscious of the drowsy hush of midday. Four days’ tension unwound inside me like a breaking clock spring, and I went to sleep.
* * *
I didn’t know what waked me. I opened my eyes and Julia Cannon was standing beside my legs looking down at me.
“Hello,” I said.
She nodded. “Hello.”
I rubbed a hand across my face. “How long have you been here?”
“Just a few minutes.”
I couldn’t see anyone else, either here on the pier or up by her car in front of the cabin. “Where’s the moose?”
“Moose?”
“Tallant.”
“I don’t know,” she said.
It was late afternoon, and shadows were reaching out across the clearing. She wore a dark pleated skirt and a soft, white, long-sleeved blouse with French cuffs. I turned my head slightly and completed the survey. She had on nylons in that area, and sling pumps.
“Nice,” I said.
She made no reply.
“Don’t mind me,” I said. “I always wake up this way.”
She was carrying a pack of cigarettes in her hand, and a paper book of matches, because women never have pockets in anything. She fumbled with them now, lighting one.
I reached up a hand for it. “Thanks,” I said. She lit another for herself.
“Quite neat,” she said. “An entire philosophy in one gesture.”
I propped myself on an elbow. “Don’t be an egghead, honey. You’re stacked all wrong.”
She shrugged.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“Nothing.” She sat down with her back against one of the upright poles to which the pier was secured. Raising her legs, she tucked the skirt in under them.
“What progress with the money?” I asked.
“I called the broker in Houston and gave him a list of securities to sell. The proceeds will be deposited to my account in the bank down there next Tuesday.”
“Nice going,” I said. “I’ll meet you Thursday morning. Right?”
She nodded. “I’ll be at the Rice Hotel.”
“Alone?”
“Is that your concern?”
I took a drag on the cigarette. “You can bet it is. I don’t want Tallant around when I give that tape back to you. I’ve seen some of his work.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“Take a look at the hole you’re in and you can answer your own question. We work it this way. Tallant is to be up here in his store on Thursday morning. Just before I meet you with the tape, I call him long distance. If I don’t hear his voice, I don’t show.”
She nodded coolly. “That sounds all right. You’ll have the recorder with you? I shall want to hear the tape, naturally.”
“Of course. I’ll come to your room at the hotel. We play it back, you put the money in my warm little hand, and I fade.”
“Very well,” she said. She looked musingly at my face. “Tough, aren’t you?”
“I try to get along.”
“You should go far. Is blackmail a new field for you?”
“Maiden voyage.”
“I must say you have a masterly grasp of its intricacies, for a beginner.”
“Thank you. I like your legs.”
“You don’t have any trouble with the moral aspects?”
“Why should I? I’m just a press agent in reverse. You’re paying me to keep you off the front page.”
The brown eyes met mine probingly. “Never mind the comic rationalization. It doesn’t bother you in the slightest, does it?”
“No. I’m a bastard. I admit it.”
“Frank, to say the least.”
“Look. It’s a jungle. They throw you into it naked, and sixty years later they carry you off in a box. You just do the best you can.”
She smiled a little mockingly. “Ah. The beginnings of thought. You’re a nihilist.”
“That’s out of style,” I said. “Nobody’s been one for years.”
“You are surprising. I didn’t think you’d know what it meant.”
“Duh,” I said. “I saw it in a comic book.”
She shrugged. “Never mind.” Her glance crawled up me from toes to shoulders and back again. “Just don’t be an egg-head. You’re stacked all wrong.”
I looked at her face. It was completely expressionless. “How about a beer?” I asked. “I’ve got some on ice.”
“Love one,” she said. “How about helping me up? These high heels—”
I stood up and reached a hand down for her. She took it and I lifted. She came erect, teetered a little, and braced herself with a hand on my shoulder. I took her arm as she walked ahead of me down the pier.
“Thank you,” she said when we were on solid ground, and pulled her arm away. I was listening for something in her voice, and thought I heard it.
She led the way toward the car instead of the front porch of the cabin. I stood behind her as she opened the right front door. “Something I wanted to get,” she said, reaching into the glove compartment.
There was an overnight bag on the floor in back. She turned and saw me looking at it.
“I was—I mean, I’m going to Dallas to visit friends over the weekend,” she said.
“Hot there, this time of year,” I said.
“Yes. Isn’t it?”
The sun was far down now, below the wall of timber around the clearing, and there was something about the light that played up her flamboyant coloring—warm red, honey, deep brown, and the jet shadow of her hair. She had taken something from the glove compartment, but at the moment I wouldn’t have noticed if she’d been carrying a lighted neon sign in each hand.
“You promised me a beer,” she said.
“Sure,” I replied. We went up on the porch. “Make yourself at home. I’ll change out of these trunks and open a couple of cans.”
I went through into the back room, took off the swim trunks, and put on shorts and a pair of flannel slacks. Just as I was shoving my feet into sandals she came in. She leaned against the door frame, holding a cigarette in her fingers, and swept an amused glance around the room at the beds and the duck-hunting clothes hanging along the walls.
“Very cozy,” she said. “A little crude—but masculine.”
I tossed the trunks across a chair and stepped toward her. She didn’t move out of the doorway. I leaned an arm against the frame above her head and stood looking down at her.
“Long drive,” I said.
She tilted her head back. “Yes. Isn’t it?”
She put a hand up on my arm. “No shirt. Characteristic.”
I said nothing.
“Like oak.”
“Yes,” I said. “Isn’t it?”
She stared musingly at the gold cuff link on her wrist as the hand slid downward, across my shoulder. The cigarette slipped from the fingers of her other hand and fell to the floor. She didn’t appear to notice it.
“You dropped your cigarette,” I said.
She glanced down. “Oh. So I did.”
It was lying near her feet. She placed the toe of one of the pumps on it and ground it slowly into the floor.
She looked back up at my face.
“I was finished with it,” she said.