Shock Treatment (13 page)

“Can you reach it?”

My fingers were a good twelve inches from the tool.

Maddox said to Harmas, “Take the back off the set.”

When Harmas had removed the back, Maddox said to Boos, “See those two terminals in the set? Delaney was supposed to have touched them with the screwdriver: that’s how he was supposed to have been killed. You can see Regan can’t get near them from where he is sitting.”

Boos got abruptly to his feet. He came to stare at the inside of the set.

“Do you see what I’m driving at?” Maddox went on. “Delaney is supposed to have taken the back off the set. He couldn’t have done it. He is supposed to have got the screwdriver from the storeroom. He couldn’t have done it. He is supposed to have touched those two terminals. He couldn’t have done it.”

Boos stared at him.

“Well, I’ll be damned!”

Harmas undid the cord that bound me to the chair and I got out of the chair.

Then Boos turned to me.

“Let’s have your story again, Regan,” he said. “Let’s go over the whole thing. You called on Delaney to see how the set was working. Right?”

“Yes. I found Delaney lying in front of the TV set. There was a steel screwdriver by his hand and the back of the set was off. I thought he had electrocuted himself. I pulled the plug out of the mains and then I touched him.”

“He was dead?” Boos asked.

“Yes.”

“How did you know he was dead?”

“He was cold and he was stiff.”

“When a man is killed by a big dose of electricity,” Maddox said, “he burns. He’s not going to cool the way a body would cool, dying from gun-shot wounds or a stab in the back. The jolt he gets from an electric shock would increase the temperature of his blood. If Delaney had died of an electric shock, his body wouldn’t have been noticeably cold in three hours.”

Boos began to look bewildered.

“Are you trying to tell me he didn’t die of an electric shock?” he demanded, staring at Maddox.

“I’m not trying to tell you anything,” Maddox said curdy. “I want his body exhumed.”

Boos scratched the side of his neck, frowning at Maddox.

“You’ll have to talk to Jefferson first,” he said. “Maybe there is something wrong, but I’m Homicide. You’re not suggesting Delaney was murdered, are you?”

There was a constriction in my chest now that made breathing difficult. I leaned forward in my chair, staring at Maddox, my hands squeezed between my knees, waiting to hear what he would say.

“Am I suggesting Delaney was murdered?” Maddox asked. “No, I’m not suggesting it: I’m telling you he was murdered! He was murdered because he took out an insurance policy that covered his crippled life for five thousand dollars. He was murdered because his killer took into account that the inquiry would be handled by two old dead-beats who would accept what they saw and wouldn’t dig deeper.” A hard, grim smile lit up his face. “Murder? Of course it’s murder! Why do you think I brought you out here? This is the plainest case of murder I’ve ever had to deal with!”

II

Boos scratched a match alight. The sound of the red head against the sanded side of the box made a sharp explosion in the silence of the room.

No one was looking at me. That was my good luck. “Now look, Mr Maddox,” Boos said after he had lit his pipe and had got it to draw to his satisfaction, “I know your hunches. I know you have yet to be proved wrong. Okay, if you say this is murder, I’ll listen, but before I start something I can’t finish, I want to be convinced.”

Maddox went back to the fireplace and stood before it. “This is a murder case. When I smell murder, I know it’s murder. I’ve never been wrong, and what’s more, I’ll stake my life I’m not wrong this time. Anyway, I can give you enough ammunition to blast this old has-been right out of office.”

Boos had let his pipe go out. As he groped for his matches, he said sharply, “What ammunition?”

“I’ve given you enough to get an order to exhume the body, but I can give you more. I can even give you a guess who killed him.”

My heart missed a beat, then began to race so violently I could scarcely breathe.

“You can?” Boos was sitting forward, the match burning between his fingers, forgotten. “Who killed him then?”

“His wife,” Maddox said. “She’s tried to kill him once before but only succeeded in crippling him.”

I started to protest but checked myself in time. I wanted to tell him he was crazy, but I hadn’t the nerve. I knew if I spoke and they looked at me, they would know who had killed him all right. At that moment my guilt was written across my face.

“I don’t get it,” Boos said.

“Delaney married this woman four years ago,” Maddox said. “They hadn’t been married three months before she got into touch with one of my agents. She suggested he should talk to Delaney about an accident insurance policy. She said her husband was interested in a hundred thousand coverage.” Maddox pointed a stubby finger at Boos. “I don’t have to tell you when a wife tries to arrange an accident policy for her husband the red light goes up. My agent told me. I told him to go ahead, but I opened a file on Mrs Delaney. The agent talked Delaney into signing a policy, but a day later, Delaney wrote in and cancelled it. We didn’t press him because I smelt trouble. It was a hunch that paid off. Three days after he had cancelled the policy, my agent reported to me that Delaney had met with an accident. If he had been insured, I would have con-tested the claim and started an investigation, but as he wasn’t insured I let Jarrett, who you took over from, handle it. It was cleverly done, and he didn’t get anywhere. You’ll find it on file though. Delaney was drunk and asleep and she was driving. She stopped the car on the mountain road. A friend of hers had had a breakdown and was blocking the road. Delaney was asleep. She got out of the car and her story was she hadn’t set the parking brake properly. It’s a wonder Delaney survived.”

Boos said, Well, I’ll be damned!”

“The woman must be cock-eyed,” Maddox went on. “The moment Delaney takes out this TV policy and she discovers he is covered for five thousand bucks, she moves in again: only this time she kills him, and this time I’m right here to fix her!”

This was the moment when I should have got to my feet and told him he was wrong. This was the moment when I should have told him I had killed Delaney. But I didn’t. I just sat there, my heart pounding, too frightened for my rotten skin to tell them the truth.

Boos tapped out his pipe.

“You can’t prove she killed him, Mr Maddox.”

Maddox made an impatient gesture with his hands.

“That’s your job. I’m telling you this is murder, and I’m willing to bet my last buck, she did it. It’s your job to pin it on her. Find out where she was when Delaney died. I’ll bet you she’ll have an alibi. When you know what it is, take a good look at it before you accept it. Get Delaney’s body exhumed. I’m willing to bet she staged the scene by taking off the back of the TV set and she also planted the screwdriver by Delaney, and she did it to collect the five thousand coverage.”

Boos stroked his fleshy nose.

“Well, okay, I’ll talk to Jefferson. We’ll have the body exhumed right away.” He got to his feet. “Do you happen to know where Mrs Delaney is?”

Harmas said, “She’s in Los Angeles looking for work. Her attorney, Macklin, will know where you can contact her.”

“Okay, Mr Maddox,” Boos said. “I’ll take it from here. I’ll let you know how it develops.” He turned to me. “I’m going to lock up this place and seal it. I want the set left just where it is. Did she ask you to sell the set?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll talk to her.”

“Let me have a copy of the p.m. report,” Maddox said as he started for the door. He paused abruptly to look at me. “You’ll be needed as a witness for us, Mr Regan. Thanks for what you’ve done so far.”

He and Harmas went down to the Packard and drove away.

That left Boos and myself alone.

Boos stared after the departing Packard.

“That guy!” There was a note of admiration in his voice. “What a police officer he would have made! He can smell murder a hundred miles away, and I’ve never known him to be wrong. Well, I’d better seal this joint up. You got the key?”

I handed him the key.

\ “Okay, Regan, be seeing you at the trial,” and he started down the passage to the back door, humming under his breath.

I left the cabin and got into my truck.

It wasn’t until I was back in my cabin and had drunk two fingers of straight Scotch that I began to recover my nerve.

Could they prove a case against Gilda?

I knew Delaney had died by an electric shock. How could they hope to prove that Gilda had been responsible?

I would be crazy to give myself up until I knew for certain that she was in danger. I must wait and see what happened. Then, if it looked bad for her, I would tell Boos the truth.

The following afternoon I drove down to Glyn Camp. I left the truck in the parking lot and walked over to Jefferson’s office.

I found him sitting at his desk, a bewildered, brooding expression in his eyes.

“Hello, son,” he said. “Come on in and sit down.”

I sat down and watched him lift the jar of apple jack into sight from behind his desk. He poured two shots into glasses and pushed one of the glasses over to me.

“Well, the thing’s happened I didn’t want to happen,” he said. “I had at the back of my mind that Delaney’s death wasn’t all that straightforward. If I had known he had signed that insurance policy, I would have made a much closer investigation.”

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“They’re holding the p.m. now. They’ve got Allison, the Medical Officer from LA, to handle it. They exhumed the poor fella last night.”

“You know Maddox thinks Mrs Delaney did it?” I said.

Jefferson nodded.

“There’s a man I could never get along with. That girl wouldn’t hurt a fly. I haven’t been dealing with people for sixty years without learning who is a bad “un and who isn’t. I’m willing to bet she didn’t do it.”

“Me too.”

“I don’t think it’s murder,” Jefferson went on. “I think it was suicide. She got tired of living with him and she left him. He was down to his last buck, and with her leaving him, it was too much for him. Somehow he managed to get the back off the TV set. Don’t ask me how, but a desperate man can do things that most people think impossible.”

“Have they talked to her yet?” I asked.

“They can’t find her. She’s vanished.”

I stiffened, slopping my drink.

“Vanished ? Doesn’t Macklin know where she is ?”

“No. He had a letter from her saying she was moving from the room she rented and was looking for somewhere else to stay. When she found something, she would let him know. That was three days ago. He hasn’t heard from her, and Boos is hinting she’s got in a panic and bolted.”

“Can’t they trace her by her car?”

“She’s sold it.”

The sound of heavy steps coming along the passage made both of us look sharply towards the door which jerked open.

Lieutenant Boos stood in the doorway. There was a smirking look of truimph in his close-set eyes. He came in, kicking the door shut.

“How do you like it?” he said, addressing Jefferson. “The guy wasn’t electrocuted at all!”

I sat forward, staring at him, scarcely believing I had heard aright.

Jefferson too was staring.

“If he wasn’t electrocuted, then how did he die?” he asked, a croak in his voice.

“He was poisoned,” Boos said. He put two big, red hairy hands on Jefferson’s desk, and leaning forward, went on, “He was murdered! Someone fed him enough cyanide to wipe out half this goddam town!”

III

The big moon floated serenely in the night sky, casting a brilliant white light over my cabin and garden.

I sat on the verandah, smoking. The time was a little after ten o’clock.

I was still stunned by the news Boos had shot into our laps. I could scarcely believe that Delaney had died of poisoning and that I hadn’t after all killed him. I was beginning now to savour the realization with an overwhelming feeling of relief that by a trick of fate I was not after all a murderer. The knowledge that I could now no longer be arrested, tried, found guilty and put in the gas chamber gave me a buoyant feeling of freedom.

But if it was good news for me, it was serious news for Gilda.

Not for one moment did I believe she had poisoned Delaney. I was sure Jefferson was right when he had said the thought of losing her and knowing he had no money left had been too much for Delaney. He had taken the easy way out — he had killed himself.

If I hadn’t planned to kill him, if I hadn’t gone to the cabin and set the stage so that it would look as if he had been electrocuted, Gilda would not be in the perilous position she was in now.

To save her, I might still have to tell the police what I had done. Attempted murder was a serious charge. I could get a twenty-year sentence. The thought turned me cold.

The sound of a car coming up the road brought me to my feet. I went to the verandah rail and watched Jefferson’s old Ford bump up my drive-in.

He came slowly up the verandah steps.

“Come in and have a drink,” I said, wondering what he was doing up here.

He sat down while I made a couple of highballs. I looked at him. He was pulling,at his moustache, a brooding expression in his eyes. I saw, with surprise, he wasn’t wearing his sheriff’s star. This was the first time since I had known him that he hadn’t worn it.

He saw me staring and he smiled ruefully.

“I turned it in this afternoon. It’s always better to walk out than to be kicked out.”

“You mean you have resigned office?”

“That’s it. It’s time I did. I’ve got beyond the job.” He took the highball. -*Truth to tell, now I’ve taken the plunge, it’s a relief. I can sit on the fence and watch the other fella do the work. I’m sorry it finished this way. It’s my own fault. I should have resigned years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” I said and I meant it.

“I didn’t come up here to talk about myself. Have you heard about Mrs Delaney?”

A cold creepy sensation crawled over me.