Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 41, No. 4, October 1977

Gerald could not resist taking another look at the open coffin within that endlessly dim room, with tall candles flickering at its head and foot, and seeing his mother laid out there, reassuring himself that she was really dead, in the knowledge that he was unobserved he did a bird-like dance of joy.

He was very conscious of his movements, light as those of a ballerina, and caught blurred blimpses of his fair and delicate face in the mirrors around the room. People in the town thought there was something queer about him; they talked about his weak mouth and almost nonexsitent chin, not having the slightest inkling of how dangerous he really was. It gave him a thrill merely to contemplate what he was about to do.

All was well — except for two clouds on his horizon. One large dark cloud encroaching more and more on his own blue sky — and another, equally menacing, although not much larger than the proverbial man’s hand.

First of all, the company was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy.

Secondly, there was his secretary, Irma Pappas.

The two problems were connected, very closely connected. Gerald knew that if he could eliminate one of them, Irma, he could resolve the other.

After his mother’s illness reached the terminal stage and she could no longer watch over the business with her usual vigilance, Gerald had been able to get at the company funds and invest them with the boldness of the true businessmen he most admired. It was unbelievable bad luck that the economy had turned sour at just that moment, resulting in heavy losses.

Only Irma knew the truth about the company’s finances, although it was only a matter of time, if something did not happen, until his creditors would be hounding him and he might have to go to prison because of certain questionable actions on his part. For the moment, he had nothing to fear from Irma. She had been his mistress for nearly five years, so discreet about her relationship with him, as well as about the business, that no one else suspected what was going on.

Irma had always wanted to marry him, but Gerald had been successful thus far in putting her off by pointing out that his mother would not hesitate to disinherit him if he married the wrong woman. Irma, who was thought by Gerald’s mother to be definitely beneath him, could not but appear to be very much the wrong woman.

Now that his mother was dead, Irma would expect him to keep his promise to marry her. She had no way of knowing that there was an even stronger reason why he would not marry her. He intended to marry Peggy McFarland, the town’s richest woman now that her husband was dead. He needed Peggy’s money to stave off bankruptcy. But he knew, too, that Irma would not let go, that she would insist on his marrying her and, if he refused, ruin him by exposing his misuse of company funds.

Thus musing, Gerald kept staring at the sputtering candles and shuddered when an unexpected sound, the doorbell, shattered the silence of the big house. He knew very well who it was. He went to the solid oak front door and swung it open wide, smiling his warmest smile.

Irma, her black hair glistening from the rain, came in, carrying a large handbag. She was wearing a shapeless gray dress which gave no hint of the rich body it concealed. There was a bovine quality, like that of the great Earth Mother, which had first attracted him and still held him in its spell.

“Darling,” Gerald said, kissing her. “You remind me of an adorable peasant. You’re right on time.”

The serious look on Irma’s face did not change. She walked quickly to the door of the parlor, looking in as if she also wished to assure herself that the old woman was at long last dead.

“That’s some coffin,” she said. “It doesn’t look like one in our line.”

“It isn’t,” Gerald said, coming to a stop beside her. “I had it built specially. Magnificent, isn’t it?”

It was a very special coffin. Ever since Gerald read about the Mafia’s neat little trick of suing a split-level coffin to get rid of an unwelcome body underneath that of someone else who was legally dead, he had pondered the application of this solution to his problems. He had built it with his own hands to the same specifications, working through the night while he was alone in the factory. But he could not very well tell Irma how he intended to use it.

“Come on in, dear,” he said, taking her arm. “Let’s sit by the fire where it’s warm.”

She shivered a little when he touched her, but he was certain the shiver came from cold rather than fear.

“Did anyone think it odd that you resigned your job?” Gerald asked.

She shrugged. “Not really. I just said I was tired of living here, that I wanted to go to California.”

Gerald had worked it all out with Irma. She was to resign her job and go to California ahead of him. With her, would go most of the liquid assets of the firm. He was to join her as soon as he had declared bankruptcy and arranged for a receiver to take over. At least, that was supposed to be the plan.