I Would Rather Stay Poor

Calvin flicked ash off his cigarette. His eyes became remote.

‘They won’t ever catch her,’ he said. ‘That’s the trick in this. They may find her but they won’t catch her.’

Kit lifted her hair off her shoulders with an impatient movement.

‘Will you stop talking in riddles? If they find her, they’ll catch her, won’t they?’

‘Not necessarily.’ He didn’t look at her. ‘They’ll find her all right, but she won’t be in a position – shall we say – to talk.’

There was a sudden tense pause. Calvin continued to stare down at the carpet, humming tunelessly under his breath. Kit became rigid, her fists gripped between her knees, her face suddenly without colour.

‘It depends on how much you really want the money,’ Calvin said at last. ‘I really want it. I’ve made up my mind to have it. Nothing and nobody is going to stop me having it.’

She remained motionless. He could hear her quick, heavy breathing and he wondered if he had misjudged her. If she hasn’t the nerve, he thought uneasily, to go ahead with this thing, then I’m in trouble. I could have two murders on my hands… Alice and she. I’m not giving up this idea just because she hasn’t the nerve to help me. I’ll have to find someone else, but first, I’ll have to silence her.

‘I think I’d like a drink,’ Kit said in a hoarse, harsh voice.

He splashed whisky into his empty glass and held it out to her. He saw her hand was unsteady as she took the glass from him. She drank the whisky in one quick gulp, shuddered and sat back, holding the empty glass so tightly her knuckles turned white.

‘There must be some other way,’ she said.

‘Okay, if you think so,’ Calvin said, watching her, ‘then you tell me. Once the money has gone, they’ll know it’s an inside job. So it has either to be me or Alice. Now you take it from there.’

‘There must be some other way.’ Two faint red spots showed on her cheeks. She looked at the whisky bottle standing on the night table. Calvin got up, lifted the bottle and poured a stiff shot of liquor into her glass.

‘You won’t have anything to do with it. It’s my job to fix Alice,’ he said.

He watched her as she again drained the glass.

‘You’d better go slow on that,’ he said sharply. ‘You don’t want to get drunk.’

‘I won’t get drunk.’

He put down the bottle, then sat on the bed.

‘I’ve thought about this,’ he said. ‘There’s no other foolproof way. You have to make up your mind whether Alice is more important than three hundred thousand dollars. It’s as simple as that. I’m no stranger to murder. I murdered a number of people during the war… not only soldiers, but civilians who got in my way. I have waited years for the chance of getting my hands on big money without a risk to myself. It was you who started my thinking.’ He paused, then went on, a sudden edge to his voice, ‘It might not be all that safe for you to back out now. You can see that, can’t you?’

She got to her feet and walked over to where he had put the bottle of whisky. She poured a stiff drink into her glass.

‘Are you threatening me?’ she asked.

‘You can call it what you like. You’re in this thing now with me. Give me an idea that will keep both Alice and me in the clear and I’ll listen. But make up your mind to this fact: I’ve told you too much for you to back out now. I’m reasonable. Give me an idea that takes care of your scruples and keeps me in the clear and we’ll do it your way.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ she said in a flat voice and moved towards the door.

‘Tomorrow I’m going to persuade Alice to take the bank examination,’ Galvin said. ‘We have time, but there is no need to waste it.’

Without looking at him, Kit went into her bedroom, carrying the glass of whisky. Calvin heard the key turn.

He sat there on the bed for a long time, smoking and humming tunelessly under his breath. Then suddenly, he got to his feet and began to undress.

Putting on his pyjamas and his dressing-gown, he went along to the bathroom and washed. Then he returned to his room and picked up a cigarette. He held it unlighted between his thick fingers as he looked towards the communicating door. He stared at the door for several seconds, then he put the cigarette down. Moving silently, he went to the door and gently turned the handle. The door yielded. He pushed it wide open. The bedside lamp was alight. Kit was in bed.

They looked at each other, then he moved into the room, closing the door behind him.

He felt a surge of satisfied triumph run through him. This was her way of telling him she would go ahead with him in this plan of his.

When he reached the bed, she turned off the light.

CHAPTER FOUR

1

‘The thing we have to make up our minds about,’ Calvin said, ‘is what we are going to do with the money when we get it.’

Kit and he were alone in the kitchen. The house was empty except for them. The old people and Alice had gone to church. Flo didn’t come in on Sundays. Kit was preparing the lunch. Calvin sat on the kitchen stool, away from her, a cigarette between his lips.