‘No!’ she said violently. ‘I’m not having that! Work for a devil like you? Iris? Oh no, I’ll soon stop that!’
‘Will you?’ Calvin lit a cigarette. ‘I don’t think so. She wants to work in the bank. How will you stop her? Why shouldn’t she work for her future father-in-law?’
‘I’m not having her shut up with a swine like you!’ Kit said. ‘I know what you could do to her with your slimy charm.’
Calvin smiled.
‘Oh, come. Don’t be ridiculous.’ His expression suddenly changed and he glared at her. ‘Listen, you drunken fool, can’t you see why it is important she should work with me in the bank? I will have the opportunity to hear from her what her boy-friend is up to. Don’t make any mistakes about him. He’s smart and he could be dangerous. And another thing: it is important to both of us she should work in the bank rather than a stranger. If I had a stranger working for me, I would never know if she might come across the money when I’m not there. It isn’t likely anyone will find the money, but I’m not taking any chances. If by some stroke of bad luck, Iris did come across it, I can’t imagine she would send her mother to the gas chamber.’
‘I’d rather that than expose her to your beastliness,’ Kit said, glaring at him. ‘She’s not working for you! That’s final! Now get out!’
Calvin studied her, his face suddenly expressionless. Then with a slight shrug of his powerful shoulders, he got to his feet and returned to his room. He heard the lock of the door snap after him.
He sat down and for some twenty minutes he remained motionless, humming under his breath. Then suddenly he got to his feet, listened intently for some moments, then hearing nothing, he stepped silently into the passage and moved across to the bathroom. He went in and closed the door. He examined the small, flimsy bolt on the door… There was no lock. He fingered the bolt, then taking a penknife from his pocket, he squatted down and loosened the four small screws. He then slid the bolt home and gently tried to open the door. The bolt held, but only just. He knew a quick hard jerk would wrench the bolt off the door.
Satisfied, he returned to his room. Shutting himself in, he went to the closet and took from it a box of golf balls. Four of these he dropped into an odd sock he took from a drawer. He swung the sock. It made an extremely vicious and efficient cosh.
He sat down to wait. The time was now half past nine. In another hour, Kit would take a bath.
He considered his plan for ridding himself of her. It was safe and simple. She had been drinking. When he heard her in the bath he would wrench off the bolt on the bathroom door, enter, slam her over the head with the improvised cosh, then hold her under the water until she was dead. He would leave her body in the bath for Flo to find. The fact the bolt was so flimsy, it would be assumed that Flo had wrenched it off when opening the door.
It was safe and simple, but he decided he had better have an alibi in case something went wrong. Leaving the cosh on the bed, he went downstairs. The television set was on, and from the sound of the gunfire, Calvin guessed the old couple were enjoying yet another gangster movie. He went to the door of the darkened room.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in the garage. I have car trouble. If there is a telephone call for me, could I bother you to let me know?’
Major Hardy dragged his attention from the lighted screen.
‘Certainly, my dear chap,’ he said. ‘Is there any news yet of Alice?’
‘Nothing. I’ll let you know as soon as there is,’ and Calvin backed out of the room.
He went to the garage, rolled up his sleeves and quickly removed the sparking plugs from the engine. As he worked, he hummed tunelessly under his breath, his fleshy face set. He scraped a little carbon from the plugs, then leaving them on the work bench, he silently returned to the house. He crept up the stairs and entered his room. The time was now close on half past ten. The gangster movie with all its noise and violence would run to eleven. Even if Kit had time to scream, the old couple wouldn’t hear her. Calvin sat down, holding the cosh in his hand and waited.
Minutes dragged by. At half past ten, he suddenly wondered if Kit were too drunk to take a bath. She might have fallen asleep. He got to his feet and moved to the communicating door. Putting his ear against the panel of the door, he listened. He heard nothing. He was tempted to see if the door was still locked, but he was afraid of alerting her.
He went back to his chair and sat down. There were other nights, he told himself, but as each day went by, the danger increased.
He lit a cigarette. Faintly, he could hear the television set downstairs. He looked at his watch. Then he heard a sound from the other room that brought him to his feet, tense and listening. A minute or so passed. He could now hear Kit moving around her room. Then he heard her door open and he heard her walk across the passage and into the bathroom. He heard the bathroom door close.
A vicious little grin lit up his face and he opened his door to peer into the passage. The thick fingers of his right hand gripped the cosh. Above the sound from the television, he could hear the bath water running. He stood waiting. After what seemed an eternity, the water ceased to run. He moved into the passage. With cat-like silence, he reached the bathroom door and paused to listen again. He heard the sound of water as if Kit had stepped into the bath. He was breathing lightly and rapidly and he was aware that his heart was beating unsteadily. His lips came off his teeth in a vicious grin as he turned the door handle. When it was as far back as it would go and as yet
