Part 7 (1/2)
”Well, you're popular,” I said. ”You're in great demand.”
She put the cigarette in the ashtray and leaned back in the chair with her hands clasped behind her head. The pajama sleeves slid down her arms. They were lovely arms.
I watched her, thinking swiftly. We were both in one h.e.l.l of a jam, but I was beginning to get the glimmerings of an idea. It all depended on whether she had the money or not, and I still believed she had it.
There was no use even trying to guess whether she had killed Butler, or whether that man out there had, or both of them; but I was beginning to respect the cool and deadly intelligence behind that lovely face, and I was growing more convinced of one thing all the time: that no matter who had killed him, unless that guy out there was a lot smarter than I thought he was, she was the one that had the money. It figured that way.
”You're the Homecoming Queen,” I said. ”Everybody wants you.”
”I really don't see what you're waiting around for,” she said. ”You have pointed out that there is no possibility of escape. I agree with you. Any further discussion of it is superfluous; and you should realize, if it's entertainment you're after, that taunting me with it is futile.”
I leaned back in the chair and blew a smoke ring. ”I was going to make you an offer.”
”What kind of offer?”
”It doesn't matter. If you haven't got that money, I'd just be wasting my breath.”
She smiled. ”You know,” she said, ”there is a touching sort of simplicity about you I almost admire. Anyone with a less comprehensive stupidity might get sidetracked once in a while and wander off the main objective, but you never do. You started out to get that money, and by G.o.d, you're going to get it. I almost regret that you won't.”
”Well, if you haven't got it, what's the use talking about it?”
She shook her head. ”It isn't a question of whether I have it or not. The real point-as anyone but a thick-headed mastodon would have figured out hours ago- is that if I did have it I'd willingly go to h.e.l.l before I'd see Diana James get a nickel of it.”
I put down the cigarette and stared at her. So that was what had been holding up the negotiations. You never knew. They didn't make sense; they never did, not even the smart ones. Not even to save her own skin. . .
”Look,” I said. ”The h.e.l.l with Diana James. Haven't you heard? She's been scratched.”
”What do you mean?”
”Just that. She double-crossed me before we even started. She told me you were in Sanport, to get me to come up here and shake down the house. What did she care if I got caught?”
”And that isn't quite all,” she said. ”Think again.”
”How's that?”
”You still haven't seen the full beauty of it. Suppose I had surprised you and you'd got rattled and killed me? Wouldn't that have been tragic?”
I thought about it. The fact that I wouldn't have been stupid enough to do a crazy thing like that was beside the point. Diana James could easily have been counting on the possibility.
”Well,” I said. ”That's how it is with you friend Miss James. She's been dropped from the rolls.”
”I see,” she said coolly. ”And now you're ready to transfer your great-hearted devotion?”
I walked over and took a good look out the window. The meadow was empty of life. I came back and sat down.
”Yes,” I said.
”I'm flattered.”
”Never mind you're flattered. Have you got the money?”
”I might have,” she said.
”Where is it?”
”I said I might have.”
”It'll take more than that, honey,” I said. ”Let's get it on the line.”
”Why?”
”You haven't got a chance. You're cold meat. As soon as it's dark and I can get out of here, I'm going to shove. I can get away. And you'll be a dead woman with a hundred and twenty thousand dollars as soon as your friend out there moves in on you.”
She stared thoughtfully. ”And what is this proposition of yours?”
”The geetus, baby.”
”I have it.”
”You know about not trying to kid me, don't you?”
Her eyes were cold. ”I said I had it.”
I took another drag on the cigarette and looked at her a long time. There was no hurry. Keep the pressure on her. ”Let's put it this way,” I said at last. ”You're dead. We both know that. You're dead twice. If that character out there doesn't clobber you with his rifle, you'll be caught by the police and go on trial for murder. With your looks and a good sob story you might beat the chair and get off with life, but it's a sad outlook either way.
”Alone, you haven't got a prayer. No car, no clothes, no place to hide. You're naked, with the light s.h.i.+ning on you. With me helping, you might have a chance. A slim one. Say one in a thousand.
My deal is the same one Diana James and your husband cooked up. I'll try to get you out of here, hide you until some of the pressure is off and we can redecorate you as a blonde or redhead, and deliver you to the West Coast or somewhere. I don't say I can do it. You can see the odds yourself. But I'll try.”
She nodded slowly. ”I see. And for how much?”
”Make it a round number. Say a hundred and twenty thousand dollars.”
She continued to stare at me. ”You know, when you said I was hard, I didn't realize what an authority I was listening to.”
”You didn't think I was going to do it for nothing? Look at the risk. The minute I start to help you, I'm committing a crime myself. And when I lose my amateur standing it's going to be for big money.”
”So you'd just take all of it?”
”That's right. Of course, if you get a better offer in the next hour or so. . .”
”And what would I live on if I did get to the Coast?”
”What does anybody live on? Go to work.”