I decided to take the body to an old worked out silver mine, a mile off the highway. It had the advantage of being on the road home and was a very unfrequented spot. Out there, she could remain undiscovered for months: maybe no one would ever find her.
I hated to do such a brutal thing to her, but I had to think of myself. I took another drink, then bracing myself, I went out and moved the Packard closer to the cabin. I unlocked the trunk of the car and opened it. Then I returned to the cabin and went into the bedroom.
Without looking at her, I flicked the bed cover over her and picked her up. She was surprisingly heavy. I carried her out to the car and slid her into the trunk, then as gently as I could, I pulled the bed cover from under her and then closed the trunk.
By then I was feeling pretty bad. I went back to the cabin and took another drink, then I went into the bedroom, straightened the bed and put the cover on. I put the red wig in her suitcase and checked to make sure there was nothing else belonging to her I had overlooked. Satisfied, I went into the lounge.
As I was crossing to the door, I saw the briefcase on the table. I had completely forgotten about the money. I was no longer interested in it anyway. I didn’t dare touch it. It was murder money. It would have to be dumped with Odette’s body.
I grabbed up the briefcase, then turned off the light and locking the cabin, I got in the car.
I had a three mile drive. Before reaching the mine, I had to pass through Palm Bay. The mine was between Palm Bay and Palm City. The time was now ten minutes after three. There would be no traffic, but there would be patrolling cops. I would have to be careful: no fast driving. I mustn’t do anything that would attract attention to myself.
I drove onto the highway.
It was as I was driving down the main street of Palm Bay that my plan to get rid of Odette’s body blew up in my face.
At the intersection, I spotted a cop, standing by the traffic lights. The lights flicked to red when I was within forty yards of them. I eased down on the brake, bringing the Packard to a smooth standstill.
I sat motionless, trying to behave as if I didn’t exist, aware the cop was idly staring at me because he had nothing else to stare at.
It seemed to me, he and I were the only two people left on earth. The gay neon lights of Palm Bay flashed on and off, entirely for our benefit. The heavy, yellow moon floated in a cloudless sky and shone down on us. There was no sign of any other person in the broad, long, long road.
I stared at the red light, willing it to change to green. It seemed symbolic to me: it screamed danger to me, and I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers ached.
The cop cleared his throat, then spat in the road. The sound made me start and I looked quickly at him.
He was swinging his night-stick aimlessly, and he was staring at me. He was a big, solidly built man with a round ball-like head that seemed to sit on his vast shoulders as if he had no neck.
Would the lights never change?
I felt sweat on my face and I shifted my eyes back to the glaring red warning sign just ahead of me.
Then it flicked to green.
I took my foot off the brake and with infinite care, I pressed down on the gas pedal, meaning to move smoothly away, doing nothing to incite the cop’s criticism.
The car moved forward, then there was a sudden jarring sound and the car jerked sharply to a standstill.
I shifted the gear from ‘drive’ to ‘neutral’, and then back to ‘drive’. I pressed down on the gas pedal.
The engine roared, but the car didn’t move.
I sat there, with panic crawling over me, knowing that at long, long last, and after years of good service, the gearbox had finally packed up. Some cog had lost its final tooth, and now I was stuck with a cop within ten feet and me and Odette’s dead body in the trunk behind me.
I couldn’t move nor think. I just sat there, gripping the driving wheel, not knowing what to do.
The green light flicked to red again.
The cop took off his cap and scratched his shaven head. The light of the moon played on his red, brutal face. He was of the old school: a man of about fifty. He had seen everything bad, everything rotten and he had been, and still was, hated by those he also hated. He was a man who would rather get you into trouble than out of it.
I slid the gear lever into reverse, hoping I could move the car from the middle of the road to the kerb, but the reverse gear didn’t respond.
The red light flicked to green again.
The cop stepped off the sidewalk and came over.
‘Planning to sleep here the night, buster?’ he said in a hard cop voice that went with his face.
‘Looks like I’ve got a bust gearbox,’ I said.
‘Yeah? What are you going to do about it?’
‘Is there a garage open anywhere close?’
‘I’m asking the questions, buster. I’m asking you what you are going to do about it?’
‘Get a tow,’ I said, trying to keep my voice under control.
‘Yeah? And what’s going to happen to this heap while you’re fixing a tow?’
