Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 1, February 1961

“Well, for Chris-sake, what do you want, a big fancy story? We turned in off the road to sleep last night, that’s all. Say what are you, a cop or somethin’, Mister?”

“No, I’m not a cop, I’d just like to know.”

“Hey, he’s just nosy,” said the other boy.

The spindly one cackled. “Sure, nosy. So this is what happened, nosy. We couldn’t stay dry account of the rain, so in the morning we walked in a ways looking for a better spot. We found one and settled down and all of a sudden there was this wall of water, looked about ten foot high coming down on us. Joe and me, we got to that little hill. The other guy didn’t make it.”

The silence stretched while Cummins absorbed the words. “What other guy?” he asked slowly, at last.

“The other guy, the other guy. Herb, the other buddy. The water caught him.”

“There were three of you? You’re telling me that there were three of you?”

The boy appealed to Tuttle. “Hey, has this lad got all his marbles? Ain’t I just finished tellin’ him there was another guy?”

Suddenly Cummins struck the boy a back-handed blow across the cheek that sent him sprawling. “Enough of your sass. Talk straight, now. What happened to the third boy?”

The boy who called himself Smith lay on the floor as he had fallen, his eyes growing flatter and more heavy-lidded. He did not appear otherwise angered or surprised at the blow; he appeared used to blows. He said softly, “I guess Herb got drowned. That straight enough for you? Anything else you want to know?”

This was too much, Cummins thought. After all he’d been through, to end up with a drowning on his hands was too much. “Let’s take a look around,” he said to Tuttle dully. “You boys wait. We’ll be back.”

The men walked the ridge carefully, not speaking, watching the water and the ragged water line along the ridge. After a while they came upon it, as Cummins had known they would. It was a soaked blob of denims, and when Cummins turned it over with his foot, there was the young drowned face.

“Pity,” said Tuttle.

“Yes, a pity,” said Cummins bitterly, not meaning it the same way.

After a silence, Tuttle said, “I guess this blows your million all right.”

Cummins was thinking hard. “I don’t think I’m through yet, Sam.” His mouth worked. “Suppose nobody finds out about this drowning?”

The two men stared at each other, each working out this line of thought in their own way.

“We bury the body in the muck,” Cummins went on. “It’ll never turn up. The kid was a nobody, like the other two. The chances are there’ll never be any inquiry made after the little bum. There isn’t anybody gives a damn about kids like these or knows where they are. So another drifter disappears.”

“You want me to keep quiet?”

“That’s right.”

“For a price?”

“That’s right. You got a price, Sam.”

Tuttle nodded. “Certainly I have. You know me that well, Sheldon. How much?”

“Seventy thousand.”

Tuttle whistled. “Just for keeping my mouth shut. Well, well. It’s tempting, but risky. What about the other two boys?”

“I admit that’s a weak point. I was thinking we could give them some money and a couple of tickets out of the state.”

Tuttle shook his head slowly. “Not good. They can talk wherever they are. Sooner or later those boys are going to run foul of the police. How do you know what they’ll say then? No, Sheldon, the story’s too apt to come out.”

Cummins looked at him broodingly.

“Count me out,” Tuttle said regretfully. “It’s a nice piece of change, but I don’t want to be accused of hiding a body. Besides, if the story came out it would really queer your little deal, wouldn’t it?”

“I agree with you, Sam,” Cummins said in a strained voice. “It won’t do. But there’s another way to make sure the boys won’t talk.”

Tuttle grinned. “Oh, sure, we can...” But then he saw Cummins’ eyes and the grin died.

“Yes,” said Cummins, “there’s another way.”

“Now don’t be fantastic, Sheldon.”

“Fantastic! I tell you, Sam, this means a million dollars to me. One million dollars! For that price I’ll do it.”

“Forget it, will you. You don’t think for one moment I’d go along?”

“You’ve got a price for this too, Sam.”

“Not for this.”

“Less than an hour’s work, Sam. Two lousy little bums. They’re no use to themselves or anybody else anyway. We’d be doing society a favor. We could plant the three of them so deep in the muck they might as well have vanished into thin air. Nobody’s going to bother wondering about them. Hell, they’d be dead right now if I hadn’t rescued them. So I made a mistake. I’ll just correct that mistake.”

“I wish you’d stop talking this way.”

“What’s the price, Sam? Two hundred thousand?”

“I admit I’ve pulled some shady stunts in my time,” said Tuttle, “but I stop short at murder, at any price. Now cut it out, Sheldon You’re not a murderer and you know it.”

“You’re absolutely right,” replied Cummins. “I have no desire to murder anybody. It makes me sick to think about it. But I’m telling you again, Sam, for this much money I’ll kill. How about three hundred thousand?”