Authors: Fletcher Flora
She went through the bathroom into her own bedroom, where she took off all her clothes and put on a pale blue nightgown that practically wasn’t there. Then, after brushing her teeth and her hair and repairing her face, she went back through the bathroom into the other bedroom and stood between Howard and a light. He glanced at her once and quickly away.
“You needn’t try that either,” he said.
“Try what, may I ask?” she said.
“Coming in here naked to seduce me. It won’t work this time.”
“You’re talking very strangely, I must say. Are you sure you’re not drunk? Surely a wife has the right to wear her nightgown in the presence of her husband without being accused of all sorts of things.”
“Oh, hell! What’s the use? I’m going away, that’s all, and I’m not coming back. Nothing more is to be said or done.”
She was convinced then that he was telling the simple truth, that he was going and wouldn’t return, and she was instantly aware of the immensity of her possible loss. Possibly she could make arrangements for herself that would equal the house at 524 Ouichita Road and the Country Club and two cars and all the exciting associations with men who played golf and tennis and ordered rounds of drinks like nothing at all, but on the other hand possibly she couldn’t, and what, if she couldn’t, would ever become of her? She had a clear vision of a narrow bleak house in a bare yard before a bright board fence, and she felt a terrible loneliness and a cold, cold fear.
“You can’t go,” she said.
“I can,” he said, “and I will.”
“I won’t let you.”
“You can’t stop me.”
“We’ll see if I can’t.”
Her head was spinning round and round, which caused the room to spin as well, or seem to, and the truth was that she was still pretty tight from all the rounds of drinks at the Club. The one idea that got fixed in her mind clearly was that Howard kept a little revolver in the drawer of the night table beside his bed, and that she could surely use this revolver in some way, if she had it, to persuade Howard not to go away. She went over to the table and opened the drawer, and there, sure enough, was the revolver, and she picked it up and held it in her hand. Howard was watching her.
“What are you doing with that?” he said.
“Maybe I’ll kill myself.”
“Go ahead. It’s loaded.”
“You wish I would, don’t you?”
“Not particularly. It doesn’t matter one way or another.”
“Maybe I’ll kill you instead.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
“No? You think I won’t do it?”
“No.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“You haven’t got the nerve. You haven’t got the nerve to kill yourself or me or anyone at all.”
“Be careful. You may be wrong.”
“Go ahead, then. Kill me.”
“You’d like to see me in trouble, wouldn’t you?”
“If you get into trouble by killing me, I won’t be around to see it.”
“You don’t care what happens to me, do you?”
“Yes, I do, as a matter of fact. I wish you all the bad luck in the world. I hope you go right back to the poor trash I took you away from, and I don’t doubt you will.”
If he had been trying deliberately to say exactly the wrong thing, he couldn’t have done better. He was standing suddenly against a garish fence, bright blue at this time, and she shot him. He fell back against the fence and sat down with an expression of complete astonishment on his face. He sat there for a second or two and then lay down sidewise beside the fence and did not move thereafter.
It was such a little revolver, hardly more than a toy, and she was, moreover, such a bad shot, that it was a kind of miracle that she should have hit him at all, let alone in a vital place. It was purely by chance, in fact, that she did. It must have been his heart, the vital place, for there was a little hole in his shirt just over the place where his heart probably was. She walked over and looked down at him, but did not touch him, and she was certain that he was dead. It was incredible that Howard should simply be dead so suddenly, something she could not immediately adjust to. Her head kept on spinning, and she thought that she probably ought to do something, but she couldn’t think of anything specific that would do the least bit of good. It would be much better to consider the problem when she could think clearly, and in the meanwhile it would be necessary to arrive at a condition where clear thinking was possible.
She went back through the bathroom into her own bedroom, still carrying the little gun. She placed the gun on the table beside her bed and lay down to rest a few minutes, and she must have gone almost immediately to sleep, for the next she knew, it was morning, this morning, the morning of Saturday, and Howard was dead in his bedroom beside a blue fence.
Howard dead was Willie’s problem, and the crux of the problem was what to do with him.
FOURHaving finished her fingers, she began on her toes. Bending forward from the hips, she applied herself earnestly to the meticulous work, and as she worked she considered carefully her problem and its possible solutions. Her mind was quite clear now, after several hours of sleep, and she did not feel, strangely enough, the least bit of urgency. When she had first wakened and remembered what had happened, she had been very frightened and had felt a necessity to do something immediately, no matter what, but then it had occurred to her that it all might be nothing more than a bad dream, which she sometimes had, and so she had gone into Howard’s bedroom to make sure, one way or the other, and it had turned out not to be a dream at all, for there Howard was on the floor.
Instead of increasing her fright and making her do something precipitate that might have turned out badly, the sight of him had worked just the opposite effect and had made her suddenly calm and thoughtful. She had thought first of Mrs. Tweedy, the woman who came in daily to clean and cook, but by a stroke of good luck Mrs. Tweedy had asked for the day off and would not be in, so nothing needed to be done about calling her and telling her not to come, or anything like that. This seemed to remove all the urgency from the matter, and Willie had returned to her own bedroom, where she now was, and had begun to do her nails, which she was still doing.
The disposal of Howard in a way that would not be prejudicial to her own interests would really be quite a difficult task, and she was prepared to admit that she probably couldn’t accomplish it alone. What she needed was help, and the one she kept thinking about as a helper was Quincy. Quincy was a brain, that was generally acknowledged, and no doubt, if consulted, he would be simply teeming with ideas about what to do. The question was, could he be trusted in a matter this delicate? He was no better than he ought to be, certainly, but she was not convinced that he had the necessary intestinal fortitude.
Nevertheless, there was no thinkable alternate. She must trust Quincy or no one, and by the time she had finished her toes she had resolved to call him and ask him to come over at once. Because it was Saturday, he would not be working at the bank, and it was almost certain, early as it was, that he was still in bed in the depressing little apartment he kept and in which she had been once or twice against her better judgment. Getting up, she went into the bathroom and put the little bottle of scarlet lacquer away neatly in the cabinet where she kept it. Then she went back through her bedroom and out into the hall to the telephone, an extension, and she was just reaching for it, thinking the digits in Quincy’s number, when it began to ring. She picked it up and answered, and she could tell at once from the voice, which was like no other voice in the entire world, that it was Howard’s mother.
“Is that you, Willie?” Howard’s mother said.
“Yes, it is,” Willie said. “It’s me.”
“How are you this morning, my dear?”
Mother Hogan always called Willie her dear, but it was more in patronage than in affection, a motherly tolerance of a son’s inexplicable mistake. Willie hated Mother Hogan’s insides, and she thought now that it was really a shame it wasn’t Mother Hogan who had to be disposed of, instead of Howard.
“I’m all right,” she said. “I’m fine.”
“Is Howard there?”
“He’s here, but I don’t think he can come to the phone.”
“Can’t come? Whyever not?”
“Well, he’s still sleeping.”
“No matter, my dear. Just wake him up.”
“I don’t believe I can do that.”
“My dear, you’re being particularly difficult, if you don’t mind my saying so. Of course you can wake him up. What’s to stop you?”
“As a matter of fact, he’s sick.”
“Sick? What’s the matter with him?”
“Well, he had too much to drink last night, and he’s got a bad headache and this terribly upset stomach.”
“Howard had too much to drink? Nonsense, my dear. Howard
never
has too much to drink.”“Sometimes he does, and last night he did.”
“Have you called Dr. Wheeler?”
“It isn’t necessary to call a doctor for a hangover.”
“Hangover indeed! I’m positive Howard has no such thing. Really, Willie, you would probably let him lie right there and die of something serious and insist all the time that he’d only had too much to drink.”
“He doesn’t have anything serious, damn it. He only has a hangover.”
“You needn’t swear at me, Willie.”
“Did I swear? I’m sorry.”
“I’m coming right over and see how Howard is. I’ll be there immediately.”
“No, no. That’s not possible.”
“What?”
“You can’t come.”
“Are you being deliberately offensive, Willie?”
“Oh, well, I see that I may as well tell you the truth.”
“I should hope so.”
“The truth is, Howard’s not here.”
“Where is he?”
“I don’t know. We had a quarrel last night after getting home from the Club, and he left.”
“That doesn’t sound like Howard at all. You must have driven him to it, Willie.”
“Well, anyhow, he left, and he’s not here.”
“It’s strange that he didn’t come home.”
“Perhaps he’ll come there later.”
“That’s true. He didn’t want to disturb me last night, of course. Probably he went to a hotel, or to a friend’s.”
“You needn’t worry about him, in any case. He’s perfectly capable of taking care of himself.”
“Willie, you’ve never understood Howard in the least, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself for upsetting him so.”
“Do you think so? When it comes to that, I’m somewhat upset myself, and if you don’t mind, I don’t believe I care to continue this conversation any longer.”
She hung up and kept on standing there by the telephone, and it was obvious now that she must quit thinking and start doing something at once, for there was no telling who might come and cause all sorts of inconvenience, if not genuine trouble. Again she thought the digits of Quincy’s number, and after thinking them picked up the phone and dialed them. She could hear the bell ringing at the other end of the line. After three rings, Quincy came on.
“Quincy,” Willie said, “you can’t imagine how happy I am to find you in.”
“Are you? Since last night I’ve been thinking you might not be feeling so amiable toward me.”
“Whatever gave you such a fantastic idea? Why shouldn’t I be feeling amiable toward you?”
“Well, with old Howard cutting out the way he did, I had a notion you might be in for a bad time when you got home.”
“Howard was angry, all right, I’ll not deny that. He accused me of all sorts of things.”
“What sorts of things?”
“You know. Being unfaithful and all that.”
“I see. You mean he accused you of being what you were.”
“Are you trying to be unpleasantly funny about it, Quincy? If you are, I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Sorry, Cousin. Is old Howard actually on to us?”
“It’s my opinion he was just guessing and making assumptions and such.”
“That’s a relief. I thought maybe you were calling to warn me to get out of town.”
“Nothing of the sort. What I’ve called you for is to ask you to come over here as quickly as possible.”
“Over to your house?”
“Certainly.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Of course I’m not crazy. I’m thinking very clearly, as a matter of fact, and under the circumstances that’s quite exceptional.”
“Well, I’m not crazy either, Cousin, and I’m thinking just as clearly as you are, and what I’m clearly thinking is that your house is not at present one of the places I ought to come to.”
“You must, Quincy. It’s essential.”
“Look, Cousin, I’m just a little guy. I’m damned if I’m coming over there and get slammed around by a big slob like Howard.”
“You needn’t worry about that. Howard isn’t here.”
“He may come back.”
“No, he won’t. I promise you.”
“How do you know he won’t?”
“I just know, that’s all.”
“I don’t think I’ll take a chance on it.”
“Damn it, Quincy, please don’t be so contrary. Something has happened that I can’t tell you about on the telephone, and you must come right over.”
“You’re sure Howard won’t come back?”
“I’m sure. I promise he won’t, and he won’t.”
“In that case, I’ll come.”
He hung up abruptly, and Willie stood for a few seconds listening to the hum of the dead wire. Then she went back into her bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed and began waiting for Quincy.
FIVEA half-hour had passed before he came. The little ivory clock on Willie’s dressing table said exactly nine-thirty when the doorbell downstairs began to ring, and she continued to sit on the edge of the bed in the belief that Quincy would surely show enough initiative to open the door and come in, but he didn’t. After an interval of silence, the bell began to ring again, and Willie got up and went out into the hall and started downstairs, and she was almost all the way down when she became aware that she was still wearing the thin blue nightgown that was practically nothing. She should have dressed, she thought, for she didn’t want to get Quincy unnecessarily agitated or diverted from the business at hand, but it was too late now. If she took the time to go back and put on clothes, or even a robe, it was entirely possible that Quincy, who was an impatient little devil, might tire of waiting and go away. On bare feet, her bright nails shining, she crossed the lower hall to the front door and let Quincy in.
“Well,” he said, staring at her, “it’s apparent that Howard’s not here, as you said.”
“To be honest,” she said, “I only told you half the truth. It’s not true that he’s not here, but it’s true that you needn’t worry about it.”
“On the contrary, I’m worried already. Goodbye, please.”
“Oh, let me explain, Quincy. Please don’t be such a coward.”
“I’m not a coward. I’m a realist. I’m little and Howard’s big, and it’s only sensible to stay out of his way until I know how he intends to behave.”
“Damn it, Quincy, if you will only be quiet for just a minute! There’s no need to worry about Howard because he’s dead.”
For an instant Quincy merely looked slightly stupid, which was a way Quincy rarely looked, but then his eyes began to shine, and Willie could tell that he was intensely interested, although somewhat leery.
“That’s a refreshing way to look at it,” he said.
“Oh, you know what I mean. I mean he can’t beat you up or make trouble for you or do anything like that.”
“If he’s dead, he certainly can’t beat me up, but there’s a chance he could make a hell of a lot more trouble for me than he ever could alive. You wouldn’t pull my leg, would you, Cousin?”
“Certainly not. It’s no joking matter. I tell you Howard’s up in his room dead on the floor, and that’s what I wanted to see you about. I want you to advise me what to do with him.”
“I’m not sure I should. In fact, I’m sure I ought to turn around and get the hell out of here.”
“You can desert me if you choose, but I didn’t think you’d ever do it when I was in trouble and needed you.”
His eyes were shining brighter and brighter, and it was obvious that he was excited. He was breathing faster than normal, and he began to pick at his lower lip with the thumb and index finger of his right hand.
“I’ll admit I find the situation challenging,” he said. “Do you mind if I go up and have a look at old Howard?”
“Not at all,” she said. “I’ll show you the way.”
She went ahead of him up the stairs in her thin gown, and this was something that would certainly have been quite a diversion at another time, but now he was affected only to the degree of making a vague sort of mental note that it was something that might be attended to later. They went into Willie’s room and through the bathroom into Howard’s room, and Quincy walked over and bent over Howard and examined him intently for several seconds.
“He’s dead, all right,” he said. “Old Howard’s dead enough.”
“Of course he’s dead. He’s been dead for hours.”
“That’s apparent from his condition. Rigor mortis, I mean. Old Howard’s stiff as a board.” Quincy straightened up and nudged the body gently with a toe. “Rigor mortis is quite an interesting phenomenon, you know. Doctors frequently estimate the time of death from it. It’s caused by coagulation of proteins in the muscles, and generally lasts about twenty-four hours. When did old Howard die, exactly?”
“It was about two o’clock, I think. I don’t remember very clearly when it was I got home, or how long afterward it was when he died.”
“Well, it will certainly be after midnight, anyhow, before old Howard begins to limber up. He will require that long to reach a sufficiently advanced state of bacterial decomposition and essential acidity.”
“Damn it, Quincy, is it necessary to be quite so clinical?”
“It does no harm to think precisely, especially if you are trying to avoid being hanged. In my judgment, Howard was shot through the heart by a small-caliber gun.”
“There’s no need to exercise your judgment about it at all. He was shot with the little revolver he kept in the drawer of the table beside his bed, and I shot him.”
“I assumed as much. Very neatly done too, Cousin. I didn’t dream that you were such a sharpshooter.”
“It was an accident, really. I couldn’t do it again in a million years.”
“No matter. The big thing about having killed someone is that it’s never
necessary
to do it again. If you don’t mind my asking, what compelled you to shoot old Howard? He was a rather inoffensive fellow, to be fair about it, and I should have thought under the circumstances, if someone was going to shoot someone, that it would have happened just the other way around.”“Well, he was packing when I got home, as you can see by the bag on the bed and the two on the floor that he’d already packed before. He simply wouldn’t listen to reason and was determined to leave me, and so I got the gun and shot him to prevent it.”
“There’s a certain convincing illogic in that, Cousin. I believe you.”
“Why shouldn’t you believe me? It’s the simple truth. Anyhow, I can’t see what’s to be gained by talking and talking about it. Howard’s dead, and I killed him, and the question is, What’s to be done about it?”
“You’re right. That’s the question. You have got yourself into a tough spot, Cousin.”
“Please don’t lecture me as if I were a child or something, Quincy. I know very well that I’m in a difficult position, and that’s why I asked you to come over and advise me. You’re very clever, as everyone knows, and I was certain that you could think of something helpful.”
“Thanks very much. Incidentally, of course, I can make myself an accessory after the fact of murder.”
“I must say, Quincy, that you’re being a big disappointment to me. If you’re going to start weasling and trying to think of every possible reason for not helping me, you had just as well go away at once and leave me to do the best I can without you.”
Quincy turned and walked over to the bed and sat down. He did not seem to be offended in the least by the charge of weasling. He sat staring at Howard, and all the while Willie stood and stared at Quincy, and she knew from his shining eyes, in spite of what he might say, that he was still interested and excited and would surely help her for the satisfaction of being clever, if for no other reason. He kept picking at his lower lip, and was apparently thinking intently.
“Let’s consider the possibilities,” he said. “To begin with, we must either explain Howard or remove him. Explaining him at this stage of the game would be, I’m afraid, extremely difficult, if not impossible. Consider the position of self-defense, for instance. You might have assumed such a position if you’d acted in time. Old Howard was drunk. He was furious. He was temporarily out of a mind that was not too reliable at best. He threatened to kill you, and came at you with the clear intent. In fear of your life, you snatched the little gun out of the drawer and shot him. This would have required some preparation and some pretty good acting, but it would have required most of all that you call the cops at once. After all, old Howard is hardly smoking from death and violence lately done. As a matter of fact, he’s cold as a stone and stiff as a board. I’m afraid it would prejudice your case when it became known that you calmly lay down and had a good night’s sleep after doing old Howard in. I’m bound to tell you, Cousin, that you’ve bungled the business badly in the matter of establishing the basis of an acceptable explanation.”
“You needn’t be smug and critical, just the same. After what happened, besides all the drinks at the Club, you could hardly expect me to think clearly.”
“I was merely making an observation, Cousin, and it must be repeated in other connections. Let’s consider the case for an accident. Old Howard was just the kind of lubberly fathead who would be likely to have an accident if he started fooling around with a gun or anything the least dangerous. You could have made a beautiful case for an accident if you had thought clearly and acted promptly. I admit that there would have been certain technical difficulties, such as the absence of powder burn and the position of the wound, but they could have been avoided or surmounted, especially if you had consulted me in time. Almost any imbecility would have been believed of Howard. Any number of people would have testified that he was just the one to kill himself accidentally in a way that would have been impossible to anyone else. There’s no use thinking about it now, however; it’s much too late.”
“Couldn’t I say I didn’t hear the shot and didn’t discover Howard until today? After all, he was home before me and slept in a different room, and it would have been entirely possible. I frequently didn’t see him from one night to the next.”
“No, no.” Quincy shook his head and pinched his lips. “It would require the doing of certain things that can’t now be done. It would be too risky by far. It’s a shame you didn’t think of creating a burglar or a mysterious stranger. They’re always good and have often been used.”
“Well, come to think of it, it’s quite futile to consider any of these things, for I’ve just remembered that Howard’s mother called an hour or so ago, and I told her that I’d seen Howard and that he’d left me.”
“Damn it, Willie, it was damn inconsiderate of you to let me go on and on evaluating possibilities that were not possibilities at all.”
“I didn’t mean to be inconsiderate. I simply forgot temporarily that she’d called, that’s all. You’re pretty touchy this morning, Quincy, if you ask me. I hope you’re not going to take advantage of me just because I’m in trouble and need your help.”
“Not at all. I only ask you to understand that this kind of mental work calls for a special aptitude and is, moreover, considerably more exhausting than digging ditches. I don’t appreciate being put to any unnecessary effort.”
“All right, all right. Mother Hogan called, and I’m sorry I didn’t remember to tell you.”
“Good. Now that you’ve remembered, it’s evident that there is only one thing to do. Howard must be disposed of.”
“That was my opinion from the start, but I couldn’t think of any way to accomplish it. It’s simply incredible, the problems involved in disposing of someone secretly. Do you have a suggestion?”
“I read an account once of a man who reduced a friend to small pieces and put him in cold storage in neat little packages. Afterward he was able to dispose of him a package at a time. However, this would be messy and tedious and take up more time than I care to give to Howard. Besides, this man was caught, which doesn’t speak well for the method.”
“Oh, do be sensible, Quincy. Surely you aren’t serious.”
Quincy didn’t answer. Perhaps he didn’t hear, He got up and walked around the room, pinching his lip and looking at things with shining eyes. After a while he stopped beside Howard and inspected him for a moment thoughtfully, and then he moved back to the bed and sat down again.
“Of course, we might take him apart and ship him somewhere in a trunk or a large box, but the experience of others has shown the consequences of this to be inevitably disastrous.”
“Quincy, I simply will not tolerate taking Howard apart or reducing him to small pieces.”
“I see. Since he was your husband, I suppose it’s to be expected that you’d feel a certain amount of sentiment for him. It doesn’t matter, anyhow, for I’ve decided what to do. You’ve told my stupid aunt that Howard left you. This was actually what Howard planned to do, as evidenced by the bag here on the bed and the two on the floor. Very well. We get rid of the bags and Howard together, and it is clear to all that the bounder has simply deserted. We must make the thing convincing, of course. We will have to manufacture a few more bits of evidence to support it.”
“Excuse me, Quincy, but I can’t see that we are a bit ahead. We’re still left with the problem of disposing of Howard.”
“True. I’m thinking about it. In spite of the temptation to do something unusual and elaborate, I think we had better make use of one of the tried and proven methods. Bodies, Cousin, are normally disposed of by cremation or burial. Since we do not have facilities for cremating old Howard, we must bury him. Nothing is needed for that except a spade and a small plot of ground.”
“What plot of ground exactly? We can hardly bury him in the back yard.”
“Leave it to me, Cousin. It so happens that I have an uncle on my mother’s side who lives on a little farm southwest of town. I used to go swimming in the creek there when I was a kid. I still go out to see the old boy once in a while, as a matter of fact. He’s a bachelor and a kind of bum and tells the most fabulous lies that you are expected to accept as gospel. There’s a back way onto the farm, a little road around a cornfield and through a pasture to the creek. We can find a spot in there that will do nicely for Howard. I wouldn’t mind being buried there myself, to tell the truth, if I had the misfortune to be dead.”
“Won’t it be risky? Suppose we’re caught.”
“After we get there, the risk will be negligible, and fortunately for us, this phony neighborhood you live in is made to order for such a venture. What with the big yards all cluttered up with trees and brush and stuff like that, we should be able to get Howard out of here without anyone but us the wiser. We simply load him in your station wagon in the garage and haul him off. It will have to be done late tonight, I think. Old Howard won’t stay sweet much longer.”
“Do you honestly think anyone will believe that Howard walked away and disappeared without a word to anyone?”
“As to that, it’s our part to make it impossible to believe anything else. Old Howard was a nut in his own way, you know. I’ve heard him say myself that he intended to run away someday to the South Seas and live naked with the natives. He used to say it publicly every time he got loaded. One thing we must do is get rid of his new Buick. Is it in the garage?”