Nothing More Than Murder

leaned forward to get out of the car, and Web Clay eased me back.

I tried it again. I knocked his hand out of the way.

'You let me out of here!' I yelled. 'I can't stand any more! Take me away from here!'

'Maybe we'd better, Web,' said Rule. 'Joe's been under an awful strain.'

Web said, yes, I had, and went and got the other two fellows. We drove away.

Web rode with his arm around me, almost with my head pulled down against his chest; and Rule made me take a new silk handkerchief to blow my nose on. They took me into the house.

'What you need, Joe, is a good stiff drink,' said Web. 'Rufe, you got anything in the car?'

'I've got something,' I said, straightening up a little. 'I guess we all need a little something.'

We went up to my room and had a few good stiff drinks, and swapped a little talk. Rule and Web got friendlier than I'd ever seen them. While we were up there, Carol and some of the town ladies were busy downstairs fixing coffee and laying out sandwiches and cake. When the crowd began to come in from the funeral, the boys took me downstairs again.

I was sat down and stood up and made to eat cake and sandwiches and coffee, and when the people began to file past me in a line on the way out, they- the ones that were taking care of me-even did my talking.

'Yes, yes. That's very kind of you, neighbor-'

'Joe appreciates that very much-'

'Joe thanks you very much-'

I guess they would have even shook-shaken- hands for me if they could have.

By this time it was dark, practically everyone was gone except the ladies who were staying to help Carol. I went upstairs and had a few more drinks and tried not to think. It was raining to beat hell now, and the wind was coming up. I heard Rufe and Web pulling out for town, and pretty soon another car left behind theirs. The insurance man's.

There seemed to be a draft coming from somewhere. I thought maybe someone had left a window open. I took another stiff drink and looked through the upstairs room by room. There wasn't any window open. I went downstairs again.

All the ladies had left except Mrs. Reverend Whitcomb. She was staying that night to keep the proprieties. She fussed around me for almost an hour, trying to do things for me that I didn't want done. When she'd worn us both out she hobbled into the downstairs bedroom and closed the door. I'd think she weighed around two-eighty. And she wasn't much taller than a quart of beer. She'd been going through doors sideways for so long that she kind of waltzed when she walked.

When she got into bed one of the slats popped like a gun going off. Then, there was a rasping, grating sound, like a bale of wire being dragged across a tin roof, and the whole house shook.

'Are you all right, Mrs. Whitcomb?' I called.

She was silent, or not exactly silent, either; I could hear her panting for breath.

'Quite all right, Brother Wilmot,' she said finally. I hesitated. 'Are you sure there's nothing I can do for you?'

I knew damned well the bed had broken down.

'Oh, no, Brother Wilmot. I'm just dandy. Now you run along.'

Carol was still busy in the kitchen. I went upstairs, took another drink and went to bed.

I didn't hear her when she came up the stairs. She opened the door and came in without turning the light on; and in one of the dim flashes of lightning from the storm I saw her pulling her dress off over her head.

'You shouldn't do that, Carol,' I whispered.

'It's all right,' she whispered back. 'I peeked in at Mrs. Reverend Whitcomb. She's sleeping down inside the bedstead. The mattress and springs fell through with her.'

I grinned. I even laughed a little, quietly. It's funny how you still laugh.

'You'd better go on, anyway, Carol,' I said. 'I've got a chill, a pretty bad cold. You're liable to catch it.'

'I won't face you,' she said.

I was lying with my knees drawn up, my hands under the pillow; taking up most of the bed.

She got in with her back to me; pushed back gently until my knees came down. She pulled one of my arms under her and the other over her, and folded them over her breasts; and she held them there with her own arms.

'Now, you'll be warm,' she said. And pretty soon: 'You were just afraid, that's what made you cold. You don't need to be afraid, Joe.'

I didn't say anything, thinking, and she spoke again.

'Do you love me?'

'Sure I love you.'

'You've got to, Joe. You just got to. Maybe you don't want to now, but it's too late to change. You got to love me.'

'Hell,' I said, 'what are you talking about? I love you or I wouldn't have done it, would I?'

She didn't answer right away, but I could feel her getting ready. I knew, almost to a word, what she was going to say. Because we weren't the same people any more. If you won't stop at murder you won't stop at lying or cheating or anything else.

'I don't know, Joe. Maybe-maybe you were afraid of me, of what I might do. You and Elizabeth. Maybe your business wasn't so good, and you thought- well-'

'Carol! For God's sake-'

'I'm not saying it was that way. I'm-don't be mad at me, Joe! I've had to-most everything I've had to do and I've got to talk! I want to talk so you can tell me I'm wrong!'

'Well, you're wrong,' I said.

And I thought, Jesus, what a break, what if I'd told her about Hap and Panzer and the show being washed up? And I thought, I'll have to get things straightened out. She's just dumb enough to-

'You mustn't try to see Elizabeth, Joe. You won't, will you?'

'Of course I won't. Why should I?'

'You mustn't. You're mine now. You're all I've got.'

'All right,' I said.

'You won't try to see her or write to her or anything? Promise me, Joe. Please, Joe.'

'For Pete's sake! All right, I promise!'

'You'll let me send the insurance money to her to the General Delivery address like we agreed?'

'Yes. When I get it.'

We went on talking, whispering in the darkness, with the lightning staggering dully through the windows and the rain scratching against the shingles and splashing into the gutter. Everything had gone all right, she said. The woman didn't have any friends or relatives. They'd had separate seats on the bus. She was practically the same size and coloring as Elizabeth.

Carol had told her that they were going on from Wheat City by car-that they'd have to wait until a friend from out in the country brought it in to them. And the woman may have thought it was funny, but she didn't say anything.

They met Elizabeth on a side street, and Elizabeth got out and kept right on going. And Carol and the woman drove home, and Carol took her up to the garage to show her her quarters-

'Don't tell me any more,' I said. 'I don't want to hear about it.'

'All right,' said Carol.

'I'm sorry,' I said. 'I meant, I don't want you to talk about it. I know how hard it was on you.'

There wasn't much said after that.

After a while Carol got up and locked the door and set the alarm clock.

15

Appleton, the man from the insurance company, was already outside the next morning when I went downstairs. I walked over by the place where the garage had been and introduced myself.

He was a big fellow, not much over thirty, and he had a rather joking manner of speaking. When I came up he