Black Mask (Vol. 33, No. 3 — September 1949)

Miles away from town she turned down a short dirt road and halted the car. The lights of the city were spread below us like so many winking fireflies. In the distance could be heard the crashing roar of the surf. Reba edged away from the wheel, toward me.

Her face glowed momentarily in the shadow as she drew on her cigarette. “I like seeing you again, Joe.”

I nestled her against me. “Reba, don’t leave me again.”

I twisted her shoulders until I could look into her eyes, lazy now and half-open. “You hear me?”

“I hear you, Joe.”

“When am I going to see you?”

“I — don’t — know.” She straightened slowly.

“Let’s make it soon.”

She flicked her cigarette through the open window and her voice was bitter. “You don’t know what it’s been like, Joe, being married to him. All bent over, the way he is. Why sometimes I have to help him or he couldn’t get around at all. He’s never without his cane anymore.

“And nag — he’s always nagging me! ‘Where have you been, Reba? What did you spend that for, Reba? Why don’t you stay with me, Reba. I can’t stand you being away from me, Reba. No, Reba, I can’t afford to give you anymore money — I’m an old man — I can’t tell when I’ll need my money.’ And he’s got plenty, Joe! Plenty!

“He still owns half that business. He’s got a stack of bonds a mile high and a bankful of cash. Yet he treats me as though he hadn’t a dime. He won’t even move out of that business-woman’s-club section where we live. The old fool! I wish he was dead!”

“And what if he was dead?” I asked softly.

She flung herself against me. “Oh, Joe, if he was, I’d have everything, I’ve always wanted. I’d—” She gazed up at me. “Then there’d be just you and me, Joe. Nobody else in the whole wide world, but you — and me.”

I’m not sure how long she’d been thinking about murder or how long she’d been looking for a sucker; but that night when I walked back into her life, I was it!...

The next morning I was awakened by the ringing telephone.

“Hello,” I said.

“Joe? George Preston. You said something about looking for a good spot.”

I had, but not the way he put it. I’d hit George for a job.

“That’s right,” I said.

“Well, I think I know just the spot for you. I can take care of it — if you’ll give me the name and phone number of the gal you walked out of The Click with last night.”

“Hey, wait a minute, that’s blackmail.”

“Well?”

“Sorry, George, I’ve known this one a long, long time.”

“So it’s that way?” He laughed. “Okay, Joe, you stop over at the office today sometime and we’ll talk about that job.”

I hung up the phone and crawled out of bed. By the time I’d finished dressing the phone rang again. This time it was Reba.

“I don’t think I can make it tonight?”

I swallowed my disappointment. “Try, baby.”

“I will, but it doesn’t look like it. He’d raise the roof if I took the car out again tonight. How about tomorrow night?”

“I might not be around that long.”

“Not running out on your hotel bill are you?”

“No, that’s paid.”

“Not running out on me, are you?”

“Nothing like that. George Preston, a fellow I know, might have a job for me. If he doesn’t, I can’t afford to hang around.”

“Oh.” She paused so long I thought she’d hung up. “Maybe I can make it tonight, Joe. Where will it be?”

“How about here?”

“Why not? About eight?”

“Suits me,” I answered.

“Did you get the job?” she asked, when she arrived.

“I did, and a company car to go with it.”

“That’s swell, Joe. Now you can stick around.”

I laughed ruefully. “I don’t know. What I mean is — I won’t be in town very much.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You see, the new job is sales representative for Preston Trucking Company. I cover the whole state, contacting clients, routing trucks and things like that. So I’ll only be here Wednesdays and over the week-end.”

“Well, at least, you’ll be here?”

“That’s right.”

“And we can get together once in awhile.”

“Every day I’m here, baby, if you can make it.”

She rose. “Which reminds me, I’d better be getting back.”

“So soon?”

“Sorry, darling. Next time we’ll plan to spend the entire evening together.”

I drove Reba out to a neat, white house on Sherman Drive. I watched her start up the steps and I drove away. When I reentered my hotel room, the phone was ringing.

“Hello.”

“Joe?” It was Reba and her voice was low, viberating with urgency.

“Yeah.”

“Joe! Listen to me! Something’s happened.”

“What... what’s wrong?”

“It’s Charles. He fell down the stairs while I was out. He — he’s dead! If anyone should happen to ask you, I wasn’t with you this evening.”

“No?”

“It might not look so good.”

“Why should anyone ask me?”

“Because I want you to come out here right away. I’m going to call the doctor now. But the way I’ll tell it — I called the doctor first, then you. You’re an old friend of mine.”

“But—”

“It’s natural that I’d call someone!”

“How about the neighbors?”

“I don’t know any of them well enough. I’d call a friend — I called you!”