Anson forced a laugh.
'In the sack with my local homework,' he said and winked. 'Anyway, according to the girl, this guy was in his fifties and fat ... that's something you aren't,' Frisbee said. 'I guess she was lucky to come out of it alive.'
When Frisbee had left, Anson went into the restaurant. So far then, he told himself, the maniac hadn't been found, but there were still lots of hours to get through before he killed Barlowe, and during those hours the maniac could be arrested. After lunch, Anson continued his routine calls. Around seven thirty, he drove out to the Barlowe house, and put his car in the garage. He rang the front door bell and the door was immediately opened by Meg.
He followed her into the sitting-room. In the light of the shaded lamp, he saw she looked pale and there were dark smudges under her eyes. She looked as if she had been sleeping badly.
'What's wrong?' he asked, taking her in his arms. 'You look tired. What's the matter?' She pushed him away.
'Wrong? You ask what's the matter?' She faced him angrily. 'This thing is on my mind! I can't sleep. How would you like to sleep in the same house with someone you are planning to murder? You ask what's wrong? Are you that insensitive?' Anson lifted his shoulders.
'You made your mind up to go ahead,' he said. 'You should have no regrets.'
She sat on the settee, her clenched fists resting on her knees. 'I can't believe it is going to happen tomorrow night!' 'It depends on you,' Anson said, sitting beside her. 'Can you get him out to Jason's Glen? The forecast is good ... it won't rain. If you can get him out there, then it's fixed.' Meg moved uneasily.
'Yes ... I'll get him out there,' she said. 'We are going to have dinner at the Court roadhouse. After, I'll make him take me to Jason's Glen.'
'I was out there last night,' Anson said. 'There's a telephone call box on the highway about half a mile from the glen.
I'll be waiting there. I want you to call me and let me know for
certain if you are coming. If something goes wrong, and he insists on returning home, I must know.'
He took from his wallet a scrap of paper which he gave to her. 'That's the number of the call box. I'll be waiting from ten o'clock onwards.'
She nodded, putting the paper in her bag.
'When you get to the glen,' Anson went on, 'stay in the car, but keep the windows down.'
Meg shuddered.
'I understand.'
'When I've got rid of him,' Anson said, staring into the fire, 'I'll have to work on you.' He reached out and put his hand over hers. At his touch she closed her eyes. 'You're going to get hurt, Meg. We daren't take any chances. You'll have to be brave about this ... you understand? You mustn't blame me. What I do to you will convince Maddox and the police you are in the clear. The doctor must be convinced that this isn't a faked attack.'
She felt a chill creep up her spine, but thinking of Sailor Hogan, she nodded.
'It's all right... I understand.'
'From the glen to the highway is about a quarter of a mile,' Anson said. 'You'll have to get down to the highway. He'll be in the driving seat. You won't be able to use the car. It may take some time before passing motorists see you. You must fake you're unconscious. Remember, you say nothing until you get flowers from me. If you get carnations, you'll know the maniac has been caught. If you get roses, you'll know he's still at large.' He took a folded paper from his wallet. 'Here is a description of a man I have made up. You'll use this if the maniac has been arrested. You understand all this?'
'Yes.'
'That's about it,' Anson said. 'Don't let them rattle you and don't say a word until you see my flowers. The doctor won't let the police worry you until he is sure you are good and ready.'
She looked at him, her eyes dark ringed and scared.
'You are sure this is going to work?' she asked. 'You're sure we'll get the money?'
'We'll get it,' Anson said. 'With this set-up we can't go wrong. You'll have the public's sympathy and Maddox will know if he tries to block your claim, it'll be bad publicity and he hates that. I'll work on the reporters. Yes ... we'll get the money all right.'
Meg, still thinking of Hogan, said, 'I can't believe it's going to happen.'
'In a couple of weeks^ you'll be worth fifty thousand dollars!' Anson said. 'We'll go away together! You, me and fifty thousand dollars!' He put his arm around her. 'Together with that kind of money, we'll take the sun out of the sky!'
'Yes.'
Meg broke away and went over to the fire.
Anson stood up.
'I mustn't forget the gun,' he said and crossed to the sideboard and took the wooden box from the drawer. From it, he took the gun and six cartridges.
Watching him with growing horror, Meg said, 'You'll have to leave now, John.' She felt she couldn't bear to have this cold-blooded planner of murder any longer in the room. 'Phil is coming back. He said he would be back by nine.'
Anson turned and stared at her; a surge of angry disappointment ran through him.
'I thought we were going to spend the night together. Why is he coming back?'
'He has given up his classes now he is going to Florida,' Meg lied. 'He is seeing this man he's doing the deal with, then he's coming home. You really must go, John. He mustn't see you as you go down the lane.'
A sudden cold suspicious expression came into Anson's eyes.
'You're not falling out of love with me, are you?'
'Of course not... but you take all this so calmly. I'm frightened. I'll do it with you, but I can't be so, so coldblooded about it as you are.'
'This man is nothing,' Anson said. 'Fifty thousand dollars will mean everything to us. I'm not being cold- blooded ... it is a matter of how much you want the money.'
'You must go ... look at the time.'
'I'll be waiting for your telephone call,' Anson said. 'Remember what I've told you. Ifil work.' He picked up the gun and put it in his pocket. 'Come here, Meg...'
She forced herself to go to him. His kisses made her feel physically ill and the feel of his hands as they moved down her back made her cringe.
She pushed away.
'You must go!'
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded and went out to his car.
She sank onto the settee, her hands to her face, shuddering.
Sailor Hogan came out of the kitchen where he had been listening to everything that had been said.
'Well, you nearly balled up everything,' he said, coming into the room. 'What's the matter with you? Why didn't you love the guy a little? He was wanting it. Now you've sent him away with a bee in his workbox.'
'I hate him!' Meg said. 'He terrifies me.'
'What's the matter with you? He's smart and he means business. He's quite a boy with his talk of taking the sun out of the sky ... I dig for that.'
Meg jumped up and put her arms around Hogan's thick muscular shoulders.
'Love me, Jerry,' she said, her lips lightly touching his thick coarse skin. 'Please love me.'
With a bored grimace, Hogan swung her down onto the settee.
At half past five on Friday evening, Anna Garvin pushed aside her typewriter, collected the papers on her desk and put them in one of her desk drawers.
'Time to go home, Mr. Anson,' she said as she got to her feet.
Anson regarded her as he leaned back in his desk chair. His desk was covered with papers which he had deliberately laid out to create an impression that he was busy.
