She was right, of course. I shrugged helplessly.
‘Yes. All right. Nina, I’m sorry. I was crazy to have done this. I won’t argue any more. I’ll be grateful for your help.’
She came to me and we held each other. We stood pressed to each other for some minutes, then pushing away from me, she said, ‘Is it safe to use that money for the car?’
‘It’s in small bills. Malroux hadn’t time to take the numbers. Yes, it’s safe to use it.’
‘Then you had better arrange about the car now, hadn’t you? You can leave it at the top of the road.
When you are ready to move her, you can bring it to the garage.’
‘Yes.’
I didn’t move. I sat there, staring down at the carpet. I would have to open the trunk of the car to get the briefcase. The thought of seeing Odette’s body made me quail.
‘You’d better have another drink,’ Nina said.
She was quick to realise what was going on in my mind.
‘No.’ I stood up. ‘I’m all right. Where’s the flashlight?’
She went to a drawer and took out a pocket torch.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘No. This is something I must do on my own.’
I took the torch, then without looking at her, I went to the front door, opened it and stepped out into the darkness.
The street was very silent. Across the way the windows of a bungalow showed, lights. My next door neighbour’s house was in darkness. I walked down to the gate and looked up and down the street. There was no one to be seen. My heart was thumping, and there was a sour, sick taste in my mouth.
I walked to the garage doors. I had trouble in fitting the key into the lock. As I opened one of the doors, the faint, but unmistakable smell of death came to me, and I paused, fighting nausea and panic.
I closed the door and turned on my torch. It took me several seconds to screw up my nerve to approach the trunk. It took me nearly a minute to fit the key into the lock.
I stood there, sweat on my face, my breathing hard and fast, my heart pounding while I willed myself to lift the trunk lid.
I swung it up.
The shaking light I held in my hand lit up the cheap blue and white dress, the long, beautiful legs, and the small feet in ballet shoes resting against the spare tyre.
The briefcase lay by the body. I snatched it up and slammed down the lid of the trunk. Sour bile was rising in my mouth and I fought down the urgent need to vomit. My whole body was crawling with the horror of the situation. I controlled myself, forced myself to lock the trunk, then the garage doors and then I walked quickly back to the bungalow.
Nina was waiting. The strain was showing on her face. It seemed to me she was older, thinner and very tense.
I put the briefcase on the table.
‘I’ll have that drink now,’ I said huskily.
She had the drink ready. The whisky braced me. I took out my handkerchief and wiped my face.
‘Steady, darling,’ Nina said gently.
‘I’m all right.’
I lit a cigarette and drew smoke down into my lungs.
‘I’ll open it,’ Nina said and moved to the briefcase.
‘No! Don’t touch it! Your fingerprints mustn’t be found on it.’
I took up the case. There was a clip lock on it: it was easy to open. I pressed down the catch and flicked back the flap over. I turned the case upside down and emptied its contents on the table.
I expected a cascade of money. I expected to see dozens and dozens of packets of currency bills.
Instead about thirty newspapers spilled out onto the table: old newspapers, some of them soiled, but just newspapers.
There was no money – just old, soiled newspapers!
II
I heard Nina catch her breath sharply.
I was too stunned to move. I could only stare at the newspapers, scarcely believing what I saw. Then the realisation came with the force of a sledge hammer blow.
‘We’re sunk,’ I said as I stared helplessly at Nina. ‘We really are sunk.’
Nina flicked through the newspapers as if hoping to find some of the money between the folds of the sheets, then she stared at me.
‘But what’s happened to it? Did someone steal it?’
‘No, the briefcase wasn’t out of my sight until I locked it in the trunk.’
