Nothing More Than Murder

Word for word, I can still remember what she said that first night we talked about the murder.

'Why do you want to do it?' she said, staring hard at Elizabeth. 'That's the part I don't get.'

Elizabeth shrugged. 'It seems that some move is indicated.'

'By Joe and me, maybe. You don't need to stick your neck out.'

'Well-shall we say I'm trying to be cooperative?'

'Don't make me laugh!'

'I wish I could,' Elizabeth said. 'Almost anything would be an improvement over your normal expression. However! I need a minimum of twenty-five thousand dollars to leave, and…'

'You've got a lot more than twenty-five thousand without leaving.'

Elizabeth sighed and shrugged, as much as to say Carol was making a damned fool of herself. 'There's not much more for me to say, is there? Think whatever you like.'

'I am,' said Carol, real slow. 'And I-I don't understand-'

19

I felt sick driving home from the city after leaving Al, kind of like I was catching the flu. The outside of my body was warm enough, maybe a little too warm, but inside I was cold. Shivering.

But sick or just scared sick, however you want to put it, I couldn't help but admire the way Sol Panzer had laid his plans. They added up to a knot behind my ear, but I still had to admire them. By God, they were perfect.

Or do you get it?

A stunt like Sol was pulling takes a lot of preparation and a lot of dough. He had to have his stocks rigged for the jump; he had to be able to show that he wasn't bluffing. Just an announcement to the newspapers of what he intended doing wouldn't be enough. The papers wouldn't go for it and neither would the suckers. The architect's plans would have to be drawn and the construction contracts signed, and money earmarked for the building. And, of course, the film exchanges would have to be lined up.

Up to that point, there was almost no chance of a leak, of someone's taking the edge off his surprise. Sol was dealing with people he controlled. He could make it worth their while to stay mum, and make 'em wish they'd never been born if they didn't. The outsiders might think he was up to something, but they wouldn't know what it was. Their one chance of finding out would be when he bought a location. So?

So, he hadn't bought any. He hadn't risked having an option or a lease or a sale traced back to him. He didn't need to. I had the location he wanted, and when he got ready he'd step in and take it off my hands. I'd have about ten minutes to make up my mind. I could take a few grand and get out, or take nothing or next to it later on. I might cause him a little trouble, but it wouldn't make me anything. I'd take what he offered, whatever it was. I'd have to.

If I was still around…

I got into Stoneville a little after dark and drove around the square a few times, trying to make up my mind what to do. I was afraid to go home; I didn't know what I was going to say to Carol. I was afraid to go to the show; I didn't know what I could say to Hap. Finally, I parked across from the house, in front of Bower's old place, to give myself a little time to think; and I hadn't much more than shut my motor off before Andy Taylor was there, poking his head in the window.

'Been looking for you, Joe,' he said. 'Figured it was about time you an' me had a little talk.'

'What about?' I said.

'I reckon you know.'

'What do you think you've got on me, Andy?'

'I don't know, Joe. I ain't got the slightest idea. But I know I got somethin'.'

'All right,' I said. 'I'll see you in a day or two. I'm sick and worn out right now. I think I'm coming down with the flu.'

'Don't wait too long, Joe.' He cackled. 'I might talk to someone else.'

He showed signs of needling me some more, so I mumbled something about business and walked across the street to the show.

Mrs. Artie Fletcher was in the box office, filing and buffing her fingernails and looking like she'd stab anyone that bothered her. You know, efficient and attractive like a cashier ought to look. Harry Clinkscales, my half-witted doorman, was doing his best, too, to run people off. He kept tossing grains of popcorn into the air and catching them in his mouth, stumbling around the lobby with his head thrown back and his mouth open about a foot. I wished to God a light bug would drop down it.

When he saw me he stopped and wiped his greasy hands on his uniform. My uniform.

'That's a good act, Harry,' I said. 'What'll you take to put it on inside?'

He grinned like an ape. 'There was a guy here to see you a little while ago, Mr. Wilmot.'

'A gentleman, Harry?'

'Yessir.'

'What was his name?'

'Dunno. He didn't tell me.'

'Well, that was pretty dumb of him, wasn't it?' I said. 'What did he say when you asked him?'

Harry got kind of red in the face. 'I think I know who he was, Mr. Wilmot. I think it was that guy- that gentleman from the insurance company.'

'Oh,' I said.

'He said he'd stop back later on in the evening.'

'Good,' I said; and I went on in and up to the projection booth.

Hap had just put on a new reel and was leaning back against the rewind table, watching the picture through the port. The booth speaker was roaring; the sound was too loud. It gets that way early in the evening when there aren't enough people in the house to provide the right kind of acoustics.

Hap turned down the control a little, and wiped the sweat from his face and arms with a dirty towel.

'This is a veritable blast furnace, laddie. Why is it you didn't air-condition the booth when you did the rest of the house?'

'Why should I?' I said. 'I don't sell any seats up here.'

'Uh-hah,' he said, narrowing his eyes at me. 'Right to the mark, as usual, eh? Well, what luck in the city?'

'Nothing,' I said. 'None. I didn't get to see Panzer.'

'Ah? You had your eyes closed?'

'No. He was out of town.'

He took a step toward me, and I moved out of the way. He pulled a reel out of the film cabinet, slipped it into the off-projector, and flipped the switch on the arc.

'You're a bloody liar, old man. You're a blasted, stinking, filthy liar.'

'For Christ's sake, Hap,' I said. 'Give me a little time! This thing hit me out of a clear sky. What the hell, anyway? I've got the insurance money coming.'

'Have you, now? I wonder.'

'I will if you-if-'

'Maybe it won't be left to me.'

'How do you mean?'

'Your now-vacationing projectionist and I have been having some nice long talks. Got quite pally, young Nedry and I have.'

'If you don't stop trying to pump him,' I said, 'he will suspect something. Leave him alone, Hap. He doesn't know anything.'

'I wish I were confident of that. He's dropped several sinister hints. He's intimated that he isn't going to be around very long, that he's got certain information which, transmitted to Blair-who's been after your scalp a long time, I understand-will get him a transfer to one of the city houses.'

I laughed. I'd been wondering why Jimmie and Blair were running around together.

'Blair's letting his wishbone get in the way of his brain,' I said, 'and Jimmie is just hungry enough to string him along. He'll be right here as long as I want him.'