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Authors: Jim Thompson

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BOOK: Nothing More than Murder
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T
here was a chocolate cake in the refrigerator and part of a baked ham. But I passed them up and opened a can of soup. I wasn’t particularly hungry, and I’d been eating too much recently. Just this morning I’d noticed that I was getting a little paunchy.

I heard Carol come through the door, and I could feel her standing behind me. I went on eating and pretty soon she walked around into my line of vision. And it was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

She had a new kind of hairdo, and a plain black dress, and she was trying to stick her nose in the air and hold her chin down at the same time. Sure, Elizabeth. Or Carol’s idea of Elizabeth.

I ducked my head over my soup.

“You look mighty pretty, Carol,” I said, as soon as I could say anything.

“Do you like me better this way?”

I wasn’t sure of the answer to that one. “You always look good to me. How about some soup?”

“I’ve already ate—eaten.”

“Coffee?”

“No. You go ahead.”

I went ahead, taking my time about it, doing some thinking. This was the second or third time she’d listened in on my conversations. She was nervous and scared, of course, but, hell, I was a little uneasy myself, and I didn’t pop out at her every time she opened a door.

I wondered if it was always going to be like this. I wondered if I could never go an place or do anything without having her breathing down my neck.

Without worrying about her getting worried.

I shoved my plate back and lighted a cigarette. “I guess you know,” I said, “that there’s been some trouble.”

She nodded. “Yes. I know
now
.”

“I’m glad you heard,” I said. “I intended to tell you as soon as I could see my way out. Didn’t want to worry you unless I had to.”

“You—you weren’t afraid to tell me, Joe?”

“Now, why do you say a thing like that?”

“I—I couldn’t stand it if you were afraid of me, Joe! I know how you feel—how you got to feel. I’m different, now! When you kill someone it changes you. But—”

“I was afraid,” I said, “but not that way. You’d stuck your neck out. It looked like it might not get you anything. You might have thought that we—I—had known it wouldn’t get you anything. That I’d put you on a spot, and was going to walk off and leave you.”

“And try to go to Elizabeth?” she snapped.

“You see?” I said. “Now get that idea out of your head, Carol. I had Elizabeth and I didn’t want her. She had me, and she didn’t want me. I figure she brought you here with the idea that I’d fall for you.”

“Oh, no, she didn’t!”

“She had some reason for doing it, and it sure wasn’t charity.”

“She wanted me around to make herself look good! I’m a woman myself and I know. That’s why I hated her so much! Don’t you suppose if she’d wanted to get rid of you she’d have got someone that didn’t look like—like—”

“Carol,” I said, and I got up and put my arm around her and gave her a hug.

The dame
was
nuts if she thought that about Elizabeth. Elizabeth didn’t need anyone around to make her look good.

“Well, it’s the truth,” Carol said.

“No, it’s not,” I said, leading her into the living-room. “And you’re getting yourself all upset over nothing. All that matters is that we’ll be in the clear after tonight, and we’ll have plenty of money. Let’s not spoil it.”

“Promise you won’t try to see her, Joe.”

“Of course, I won’t,” I said. “Do you think I’d run a risk like that?”

“You’ll give me her—the money and let me send it to her?”

“I told you I would. Now forget it.”

She wiped her eyes and smiled, sort of trembly; and I fixed us a drink. I thought for a minute the arguments and explanations were over, but of course they weren’t.

I was beginning to see that they weren’t ever going to be over. I wondered how Elizabeth felt about it all now.

“How long will it be before everything is settled, Joe?”

“Two or three months, anyway.”

“Can I stay here until—”

“No,” I said. “You know you can’t, Carol.”

“Just until that insurance man leaves, Joe! Just let me stay that long. He—he scares me. I don’t want to be away from you as long as he’s around.”

“Well,” I said, “we’ll see.”

I meant to get her out of the house in the next day or two if I had to pitch her out a window.

Rain began to patter on the roof. It started in easy, and got harder and harder. Inside of a half hour it was a regular downpour. There was a hell of a crash of lightning somewhere near by, and Carol shuddered and snuggled close to me. I reached back to the wall and turned on the furnace.

“Joe.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“It’s kind of nice being this way, ain’t—isn’t it? Being able to do just what we please around the house.”

“I’ll say.”

“Elizabeth would say it was too early for the furnace.”

“Yeah, she sure would.” It sounded pretty halfhearted, so I had to say something else. “If you wanted to see someone that was really tight you should have seen her old lady. We cleaned out her room after she died, and she had darned near a whole closet full of dry bread—just scraps, you know.”

Carol snickered. “She must have been crazy.”

“I guess she was along toward the last. You could hardly blame her, though, with a husband that spent all his life writing a history of the county.”

“What’d he do that for?”

“God knows,” I said.

Carol snuggled closer. The room began to get warm. The wind rose and fell, throwing the rain against the roof in long steady swishes; and she seemed to breathe in time with it.

My knees began to ache from her weight, but I didn’t move. I didn’t want to talk any more about Elizabeth or her folks or anything. Everything was all right now. I’d told her about a hundred times that I loved her and didn’t love Elizabeth. A man can’t spend his life hashing over the past.

I dozed for a few minutes, what seemed like a few minutes. When I woke up, the clock had just finished striking.

I jerked out my watch. Eleven-thirty. I shoved Carol off of me, waking her up, and stumbled out to the hall. My legs had gone to sleep and I could hardly walk.

The phone rang just as I was gripping the receiver.

I answered it automatically.

“Joe?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got to talk with you, Joe. How soon can you come down?”

“Why,” I said, “what’s wrong?”

“I’m at my office. You’ll be right down?”

“Well— It’s kind of a bad night.”

No answer.

“Well, sure,” I said. “I’ll be right down.”

I hung up.

Carol was still sitting on the lounge, her face whiter than anything I ever hope or want to see. Her lips moved, but no sound came out of them.

“Web Clay,” I said; and, as if she didn’t know: “Our county attorney.”

S
he swallowed a couple of times and finally found her voice.

“W-What does he want?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mr. Chance?”

“Goddamnit,” I said. “I told you I didn’t know!”

Hap wasn’t supposed to call; he was going right on into the city. But I didn’t think it could be about him. Hap was too smooth an operator to be taken in by any of the Stoneville clowns. If there’d been a chance of being caught he wouldn’t have taken it.

But even if they had got him, what could he say? What could Jimmie Nedry say, for that matter? Enough to start the ball rolling, sure, but the ball hadn’t had time to roll yet. Even Web Clay wasn’t dumb enough to tip his hand to me until he had a lot more to go on than he would have.

I went over to the hall tree and took down my hat and coat. And…

And she didn’t say anything and I didn’t hear her move. But her hand went past mine and grabbed her coat.

I jumped, startled. Before I knew what I was doing, I whirled and slammed her against the wall. It hurt her. It hurt and I was damned glad of it.

She bounced forward, trying to dodge around me; and I caught her by the wrists and we struggled. And then we stopped, posed like a couple of wrestlers in a picture. Ashamed. Scared stiff.

“Sorry if I hurt you, baby,” I said. “You kind of startled me.”

“It’s all right, Joe.” She tried to smile back at me. “I just want to go with you.”

“You know you can’t. How would it look, Carol?”

“I’ve got to, Joe!”

“You can’t!”

“No one knows there’s anything between—”

“You’re damned right they don’t,” I said, “and they’re not going to, either. What would you be doing up at this time of night? Why would you be traipsing along with me?”

“You don’t understand, Joe. I—I—”

“I understand all right,” I said. “You’re afraid I’ll spill something. You want to get in on the ground floor when the talking starts.”

It was a bad break but I couldn’t hold it back. I’d held myself in as long as I could. Anyway, she might as well know that I was onto her. We knew where we stood now.

“Do—do you really think that, Joe?”

“What do you expect me to think? You’re certainly not worried about me chasing off after Elizabeth.”

“No. I’m not worried about that.”

“Spit it out, then, if you’ve got anything to say.”

“You’d better go on, Joe.”

“You’ll stay here?”

“Where else would I go? Yes, I’ll stay here.”

I shrugged on my coat and pushed past her. She spoke again, just as I was opening the door.

“Joe—”

“Now what?”

“I just wanted to tell you, Joe. Everything’s going to be all right. You don’t have anything to be afraid of.”

“Not any more than you have,” I said. “Not as much. Don’t forget it.”

I got the car started, and went slipping and skidding down the lane to the highway. At the intersection I jerked the wheel toward the right, toward town. I had to jerk it. Something had almost made me turn the other way.

People in Stoneville go to bed pretty early, even when there isn’t a storm to keep them off the streets. I toured around a dozen blocks without passing anyone or without seeing any lights except those in the courthouse. There were a few cars parked out, but none of them was Hap’s. I began to breathe easier. He must have done the job and got away.

There was just one way to make sure, of course. That was to drive by Jimmie Nedry’s house and see if he was there. But I didn’t have any reason for doing that, any excuse I mean, and there wasn’t time.

It was almost a half hour, now, since Web had called me. Regardless of what had happened, he’d start wondering if I didn’t show up soon.

I drove back to the courthouse, parked, and ran up the walk to the building. I went up the stairs and down the hall, not hurrying but not taking my time, either, just businesslike. I put the right kind of expression on my face—puzzled and a little put out—and then I opened Web’s door and went in.

Web was sitting behind his desk, looking about as uncomfortable as I felt. Sheriff Rufe Waters was standing, leaning against the wall. He acted like he didn’t want any part of what was going on.

I sat down in front of Web, slapped the rain from my hat, and waited. He made a job of clearing his throat.

“Well, Joe,” he said at last. “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to come down here.”

“You can’t blame me for that,” I said.

Rufe laughed and muttered something under his breath, and Web gave him an angry look.

“Rufe thinks I’m playing the fool,” he said. “But I’m running this office, and I’ve got to do what I think is best. I wouldn’t have had you come down here, Joe, if I hadn’t figured I had to.”

“So?” I said.

“Well, I just wanted to know, Joe—I wondered if you thought, perhaps—”

Rufe Waters laughed again.

“I’ll tell you, Joe. He thinks it wasn’t Mrs. Wilmot that got killed in the fire.”

I
tried to keep from jumping. Then I remembered that I should, that anyone would be startled by a statement of that kind; and I gave a good healthy start.

I leaned forward, frowning, interested.

“Web must have some reason for thinking that,” I said. “What is it, Web?”

He wiped his face, relieved that I wasn’t sore. “Has Appleton said anything to you about a woman he was looking for? A woman that came out here on the day of the fire and disappeared?”

“Why, yes,” I said, “I believe he did make some mention of it.”

“Well, that’s it. He prowled the town from one end to the other looking for her, and then he called us in and we checked with everyone that hires household help. Everyone but you, and, of course, Elizabeth.”

“Yes,” I said. “Go on, Web.”

“Well, Joe, we figure—Appleton and I figure—that that woman must have gone to your place.”

“She didn’t,” I said. “Elizabeth didn’t say anything about hiring anyone.”

“But that doesn’t mean she didn’t do it!” Web laughed apologetically. “No offense. I just mean she wouldn’t have been a Barclay if she hadn’t been a wee bit highhanded. All the Barclays were.”

“You’re right about that,” I said. “But—”

“You were in the city, Joe. You didn’t go home after you left in the morning. So the woman could have been there, and you wouldn’t have known a thing about it.”

I shook my head, stalling; waiting to be convinced. I could see where the conversation was leading, but there wasn’t anything to do but follow it. It was a crazy way for things to turn out, to be tripped up by a dame that didn’t belong in the plot at all. But there it was.

And I couldn’t help Carol. All I could do was save myself.

“I don’t think Elizabeth would have done that,” I said. “But give me the rest of it.”

“Here’s the way we see it,” said Web. “Mrs. Wilmot put an ad in one of the city papers and hired this woman. She hired her, and the Farmer girl didn’t know about it until Mrs. Wilmot picked her up that night in Wheat City. Probably Elizabeth was a little bit curt, and Carol got sore. You couldn’t blame her much. Here she was coming back from a vacation, with all her money spent more’n likely, and she finds herself out of a job.

“It’s thirty miles from here to Wheat City. We figure that somewhere between here and there, Elizabeth was killed and her body hid. We figure that Carol drove on home by herself, killed the other woman to keep from giving her play away, and then put her in the garage and set it on fire.”

“I—I can’t believe that Carol would do anything like that, Web.”

“Oh, she could have.” Rufe Waters spoke up. “All them Farmers are a dead-hard lot. I wouldn’t put a killin’ or two past any member of that family. But the rest of it’s all bunk. I mean about this other woman, and all.”

Web glared at him. “What’s bunk about it? It all fits in, don’t it?”

“I ain’t going to argue,” said Rufe. “I’ll go along with you so far as to say that the girl might have had an argument with Mrs. Wilmot and killed her, but that’s as far as I will go.”

“I can’t believe it,” I said again. “Carol and Elizabeth got along fine—at least, while I was around.”

“Well,” drawled Web, “what getting-along is to a man isn’t the same as it is to a woman. A man doesn’t really know when womenfolks are at outs and when they’re not.”

“But if Elizabeth hadn’t wanted her around—”

“—she’d have fired her,” said Web. “And I’m claiming that’s just what she did do! She went right ahead without asking or telling anyone and canned her.”

Rufe scratched his head thoughtfully. Web had made a point with him.

“It’s a little too pat,” I said. “Carol had been with us for almost a year. If Elizabeth had wanted to fire her, it looks like she’d have done it long ago.”

“Maybe the trouble just came up lately. Maybe Elizabeth couldn’t find anyone to take her place. Maybe she was waiting until Carol was out of town. That’s common sense, isn’t it?”

“Well,” I hesitated, “it sounds reasonable.”

“I tell you, Joe; it just had to be something like that. The more you think about, the more you see I’m right. I’m not saying that the girl just hauled off and deliberately started killing. Probably it was kind of an accident to begin with. She was mad. She flung out at Elizabeth and killed her before she knew what she was doing. Then she had to go on and do the rest to protect herself.”

He stared at me, waiting, and I nodded my head a couple of times. “I don’t know, Web. The way you put it—”

“It’s a cinch that fire didn’t start itself,” said Rufe Waters.

“No, it didn’t,” said Web. “The girl had to do it, Joe. She was the only one that could have.”

I could have said, “How can you be so damned sure that the woman stayed here? How do you know she’s not in some other burg right now, throwing herself a whing-ding?”

But what I said was, “Maybe you’re right.”

“It’s not just my idea,” Web went on. “This insurance fellow, Appleton, really thought of it. Didn’t he ask you anything about how things stood between Carol and Mrs. Wilmot?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Well, he—we hadn’t really started putting two and two together, then. We thought it was just a matter of a little work to turn this missing woman up. When we couldn’t find her he started putting two and two together, and we figured it like I just told you. He heard from his company tonight, and they think he’s on the right track. They’re willing to back him up in anything he does. That’s why I got you down here.”

“I see,” I said.

“Appleton’s going to ask that the bod—that the remains be exhumed and examined in the morning. He’s going to demand a
real
post mortem. If it don’t show it was Elizabeth that was killed in the fire, he’s going to put a murder charge against Carol Farmer. I don’t like to have him running things on me like that. I figure if there’s any murders to be solved we people here in the county ought to solve ’em ourselves.”

“Especially with election coming up,” nodded Rufe.

“That’s got nothing to do with it!” Web glared at him. “Now, here’s what I thought we’d better do, Joe. There’s no use in Rufe or me trying to talk to that girl. She’d just freeze up on us, like the rest of that ornery Farmer gang. So I want you to talk to her. Tell her—”


Me
talk to her?” I said.

“Yes, you, Joe.”

“Well, gosh,” I said. “I—”

“You know how to gentle people along, get on the best side of ’em. You can get her to talk when no one else could get to first base. You know. Sympathize with her, but show her she hasn’t got a chance to beat the case. I know it’s asking a lot, but—”

“I don’t think it is.” I looked from Web to Rufe, jutting my jaw out. “If things are like you think they are, it’s my duty to help to get to the bottom of ’em!”

“I knew you’d see it that way, Joe.”

“The only reason I’d hesitate at all is because of the possibility that I might gum things up. If the girl is guilty, I want to be sure she pays the penalty. What’ll I do if she tries to skip out, or—”

“Just a minute,” said Rufe.

He crossed the room, opened the connecting door to his offices, and went inside. He came back with a Colt automatic in his hand. He twirled it, caught it by the barrel, and handed it to me butt first.

“You take that, Joe.”

“Well,” I said, shying away. “I don’t know as
that’s
necessary.”

“Take it, Joe,” said Web. “That girl may have a gun herself for all you or we know. She might come at you with a knife. She might try to knock you out with a club and make a run for it. You can’t take any chances. You take the gun, and if you have to use it, don’t hesitate.”

I held back a few minutes longer. But finally they talked me into taking it.

BOOK: Nothing More than Murder
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