Black Mask (Vol. 7, No. 5 — April 1950), British Edition

“Listen,” I pleaded, “Try first to understand. The business isn’t going good at all. You’ve known that. I haven’t even tried to fool you. I hate to lay people off. I’ve kept up our output of heaters—”

“The money in that box — I counted it last night. Almost sixty thousand dollars. Crisp bills with a bank seal. Its from that bank hold-up yesterday downtown, isn’t it?”

“Listen!” I said savagely. “I’m trying to explain to you what prompted the idiotic impulse to keep it overnight. Why I—”

“You don’t say how you got it? Aren’t you ever going to get around to that?”

“Well shut up and let me! I was parked in front of the bank, ready to drive off, when there was a lot of shooting — you read the headlines last night in the paper — and one of the crooks ran right past me. He took a good look, tossed that tin box into the back seat and kept going. I just sat there.

“The police ordered me on finally, after I’d identified myself with the help of some of the cashiers. They all know me. No one saw anything. I couldn’t even give them a description.”

“The paper said they got them all — three of them — killed them, Monty!”

“What do you think?”

She shivered. “He traced the car license — here! He knows you on sight.”

I turned back to the mirror, knotting my tie.

“Monty — you’re insane!”

“Sure. How am I going to get the money back to the bank?”

“Oh just walk in and say — ‘I’ve had a change of heart. I needed this in my business, but now I’m scared.’ ”

I saw her eyes in the mirror, drifting over me scornfully.

“Lyria!”

“Well it’s true, isn’t it?”

I strode over and caught her arm roughly. “I’ve been worried lately. Couldn’t you see? I’ve spent far too much on — things — this house. I was tempted— Hell yes, I was tempted! But only for awhile. The money’s going back to the bank!”

She pretended to be applauding.

I saw red.

Then abruptly she relented, melting into my arms.

“You’d better go away, darling.”

“A trip!”

Her face crumbled, lips quivering. “Please, Monty. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to you. He’ll be back. He’s a big man — savage — a killer! Look where his hand gripped my arm?” She showed me an ugly bruise.

“What was he wearing? What can you remember about him?”

“I don’t know — the shock of seeing him plunging at me — a shape — he was just a big shape. Monty! Today — promise me you won’t do the usual routine things? Caned your appointments. We’ll go away — just for a few days!”

I held her trembling body close, surprised, and a bit angered that her terror could effect me like this. I was peering at the drapes along the wall as if expecting a movement — a sudden glimpse of a gun barrel.

“D’you think I’d take you with me?” I growled. “If I’m somebody’s target I certainly won’t have you mixed up in it!”

“You must go, Monty. Hide the money somewhere for a few days. Maybe under the edge of the swimming pool?”

It was a place we had often joked about; only she and I had discovered it. She was right. I had to get the tin box out of the house.

The task was easily accomplished. Our pool is surrounded by a high wall. But first I made doubly sure I was unobserved by sauntering around casually outside. Later I beat it back inside, greatly relieved, and we completed plans in the living room. I would take the convertible and drive—

“Sh-h-h—” she implored.

“You mean—?”

“I don’t even trust the walls,” she said slowly. “If you’re going to vanish, Monty — don’t tell anyone your destination!”

“That’s right,” I agreed. “But you can’t stay here alone. I’ll—”

“Have you forgotten?” She was checking the contents of my overnight bag.

“Your sister!” I exclaimed. “I’ve never met her — and she’s arriving today from Chicago!”

“Of course.”

“But what will you tell her about me?”

Lyria paused, dismayed. “What should I tell her, Monty? That you’re away on business?” She eyed me anxiously. “That would sound all right.”

“Sure,” I said. “Tell her anything. And Lyria — fill the house with people. You two mustn’t be alone. Don’t worry about me. This will be a little vacation. I’ll figure out a way to get the money back to the bank without implicating myself.”

Her lovely eyes clouded. “Oh, Monty, take me with you!”

I shook my head firmly.

“I’ll live by the phone,” she said. “If you need me—?”

“Of course!”

It was exciting — racing the car down long, open stretches of highway beside the blue gulf. Unconsciously, I had decided to head this way, instead of inland. Friends at the Club would never have recognized M. Harrison Sprague, wealthy manufacturer of hot water heaters. I wore dark-colored glasses, no hat at all, and sport clothes much in need of pressing. And I hit the accelerator hard, between towns.