‘Why aren’t you in bed?’ She was wearing a wrap and her feet were bare. Her face was pale and dark rings circled her eyes.
The time was a little after 01.00.
‘I have been waiting for you,’ I said, not moving.
She came to a chair opposite mine and sat down.
‘What did that old bitch have to say to you?’ she demanded.
I studied her. I could see she was only just controlling a fermenting rage.
‘Nothing of importance. She just said she was pleased with the way I was impersonating her son.’
‘Nothing else? Nothing about me?’
‘Nothing else.’
She drew in a deep breath, and her fists relaxed into hands.
‘That bastard Durant!’ She kept her voice low, but her rage made it tremble. ‘He told her to come! He wanted me watched while he was away! I have had to call off the priest. He was coming tomorrow. He can’t come while that old bitch is here!’
I didn’t say anything.
‘I don’t know when I’ll have the same opportunity,’ she went on, half talking to herself. ‘When Durant gets back, he is always around. What am I going to do?’
Still I said nothing.
She glared at me.
‘Don’t sit there like a goddamn dummy! You said you would help me! I must have proof that I married John!’
‘I’m here to do what I’m told,’ I said. ‘You tell me.’
‘If you want to earn two million dollars, you’ll have to do better than that!’ she exclaimed, her voice rising.
‘Can you rely on Mazzo?’
She looked startled.
‘Of course. What’s he to do with this?’
‘Are you sure? Are you sure he won’t give you away to Mrs. Harriet?’
She gave a sly little smile.
‘One time, perhaps, but not now.’
I didn’t have to have that spelt out. I guessed this sensual woman had seduced Mazzo. She had hooked him as she imagined she had hooked me.
The sight of her suddenly sickened me.
‘Let me think about it,’ I said, keeping my expression deadpan. ‘Maybe with Mazzo, we could find a solution.’
She regarded me suspiciously.
‘He’s useless. He hasn’t a brain in his head.’
That I knew, but I needed time, so I said, ‘He may not be so useless. I’ll think about it.’
‘You’d better do more than that! Anyway, there’s the will. That you will sign! I have contacted the priest. He is sending the will, witnessed by the two who witnessed the marriage certificate. It will arrive tomorrow. I’ll bring it to you tomorrow night to sign.’
‘Without the marriage certificate, the will will be useless,’ I said. If there was one thing I was not going to do was to forge John Merrill Ferguson’s signature to a will that would give this evil woman the right to claim his fortune.
I was suddenly aware that she was regarding me with an evil smile.
‘Of course! The solution! Now I understand why you said we could find the solution with Mazzo.’
I stiffened.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s a brilliant idea, Jerry! Of course! Mazzo! You weren’t sure if I would be shocked.’
I gaped at her, but a cold feeling crept up my spine.
‘Shocked?’ She laughed softly. ‘No, I’m not shocked Jerry. I have often wished that old bitch would drop dead. Of course! Mazzo! I felt sure you would find a solution.’
Jesus! I thought. What the hell is she babbling about?
‘Solution? I’m not with you.’ My voice was husky.
Again the evil little smile.
‘Mazzo will do anything for me. He will creep into that old bitch’s room when she’s asleep and put a pillow over her goddam face. I’ll be rid of her! I would then only have Durant to handle, and I know I can handle him.’ She got to her feet. ‘Thank you, Jerry. You won’t regret this. You’ll get your two million dollars. You’ve earned them.’
I was so horrified, words wouldn’t come. I watched her leave the room, watched the door close behind her.
Man! Was I in a state!
For several minutes, I sat still, panic stamping all possible thought. Then after a while, I forced myself to stand up, walk to the bathroom and throw cold water over my head.
Drying my face, I returned to the living room to pace up and down. My panic began to recede.
This woman was a dangerous lunatic! Suppose she did persuade Mazzo to murder the old lady? He was moronic. Sex and money might persuade him. Then suppose something went wrong? Suppose the doctor wasn’t satisfied? Suppose the police were called?
Loretta was so evil, if she were implicated, she could implicate me! She could tell the police it had been my idea! She would tell them I was her lover! Would they believe I had been kidnapped and held prisoner?
I had to escape from this evil house! I suddenly didn’t give a damn about the money I knew would now be waiting for me at the bank. I didn’t give a damn whether the old lady was murdered. I had to escape!
But how?
I went to the window and looked down into the grounds. Sure enough, two guards were patrolling. From the bedroom window, two more guards were standing in the shadows.
This was a set-up right out of a movie. It presented a challenge. With luck and care, I could reach the gates, then I would be away. I had the comforting thought that the guards wouldn’t shoot at me. They would chase me if they saw me, but they wouldn’t attempt to kill me. Until I had signed the final documents, my life, at least, was safe.
I made up my mind. I would try right now, and to hell with the consequences!
I went to the clothes closets. After searching, I found a track suit in dark blue and a pair of sneakers. It took me only a few moments to change into the track suit and put on the sneakers. I needed a weapon of some kind. I was determined to fight my way out if I had to.
I looked around, then went to the desk. I found a heavy, narrow silver paperweight that fitted perfectly across my knuckles. Going to the bathroom, I found a roll of elastic bandage. I bound the paperweight across my knuckles. A blow with that would stun any man.
Which way out?
I turned off the only light in the room, groped my way to the window and opened it. I looked down: a sheer drop of some fifty feet to flagstones. There was no way to climb down. I went into the bedroom and opened the window. Again there was no way to climb down.
Moving silently, I opened the living room door and peered into the long, dark corridor. There was a faint light coming up from the lobby. I crept to the head of the stairs and looked down.
A shadowy figure of a man sat in a chair by the front door. As I watched him, he gave off a faint snore. I didn’t hesitate. Moving fast, and as silently as a shadow, I went down the stairs, and moved into the main living room. The guard snored on. The room was in pitch darkness. I began to inch my way, like a blind man, my left hand advanced, making sure not to upset a lamp or an occasional table. It took me five, sweaty minutes to reach the french windows. I slid between the drapes and I could see the immaculate lawn, brightly lit by the moon. As I put my hand on the latch to open the french windows, I paused.
Was this house wired against burglars?
