The Dead Stay Dumb

by James Hadley Chase

  Dillon said, “They don’t suspect you?”

  Joe shook his head. “Did I tell you they’re offering five grand reward for you guys?”

  Both Roxy and Dillon stiffened. “Five thousand bucks?” Roxy said unsteadily.

  “That’s right,” Joe said: “I guess they sure want you guys bad.”

  There was a heavy silence while the two turned it over. Joe went on, “I rigger to some people five grand would come very nice.”

  He got to his feet. “I gotta get back to Ma. She gets mad as hell if I don’t hang around when I’m up here. I’ll be seein’ you boys before I go.”

  He went away, his long thin legs moving stiffly through the grass.

  Roxy said in a low voice, “Did you get it?”

  Dillon clenched his fists. “He ain’t gettin’ another dime outta me,” he said. “The double-crossin’ rat.”

  “Listen, Nick, don’t do anythin’ foolish. If we don’t square this guy, he’s goin’ to squeal. He said as much, didn’t he?”

  “How the hell do we know they’re offerin’ a reward?” Dillon raved. “Suppose they ain’t lookin’ for us an’ this is a frame to skin me?”

  Roxy shook his head. He was nervous. “I’d hate to call his bluff,” he said. “We don’t stand much chance if the Feds come up here.”

  Dillon took his roll of money out of his pocket and thumbed it through. He had two thousand dollars and two fifty notes.

  Roxy watched him. “Maybe he’d take the two grand an’ call it square.”

  Dillon’s hand shook with fury. “We give him this dough an’ he can still turn us in,” he said.

  Roxy shook his head. “I guess he ain’t that low. I know Joe, he wouldn’t do that.”

  Dillon got to his feet. “I do the payin’ an’ save your hide,” he snarled. “Ain’t you got any dough?”

  Roxy looked uncomfortable. “Hell, Bud,” he said, “I ain’t gotta nickel. I’m in this with you…. Didn’t I tip you what was happenin’?”

  Dillon shrugged and walked towards the house. Joe saw them coming and came out walking to meet them.

  Dillon said slowly, “Listen. This five grand reward comes tough on a guy like you. We wouldn’t like you to lose by it.”

  Joe’s eyes glistened. “You got me wrong, Mister,” he said hastily. “I ain’t hankerin’ after the reward. I guess I’m glad to hide you guys up. I only said I’d lost the dough you gave me an’ was a bit short.”

  Dillon’s eyes hated him. “We figgered maybe two grand would set you up.”

  Dillon saw Joe hesitate. He saw the look of doubt in his eyes. He thought, the bastard’s going to turn it down. He went on hastily, “Two grand can buy plenty.”

  Joe said, “Sure, it’s mighty fine of you guys.” His long bony hand came out. Dillon gave him the small roll of notes. Joe counted them, his hand shaking a little. The greed in his eyes scared Roxy.

  Dillon watched him. “I expect some work for that,” he said, keeping the rage out of his voice with an effort. “Don’t go makin’ mistakes, will you? We got your ma an’ pa up here, Joe.”

  Joe’s eyes opened. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” he said quickly. “You’ve fixed me up fine…. The Feds won’t bother you if I can help it.”

  “You’d better see to that,” Dillon said viciously.

  “Sure, sure,” Joe said hastily, “I’ll see to that okay.” He seemed in a sudden hurry to leave. He ran towards his car and drove off rapidly down the dirt road.

  Ma Chester came out and stood on the stoop. Her face had a sly expression as she watched Joe drive away. Chrissie came round the side of the house, calling to Joe loudly. Joe didn’t look back.

  Chrissie said, “Why’s he gone like that? Ain’t he comin’ back?”

  Ma Chester stepped down and went over to her. Roxy heard her say, “Joe’s got business on… he’ll be along in a little while. You oughtta be mighty proud of your Joe, he’s a smart guy.”

  Her little pebbly eyes mocked the two as they stood watching her uneasily.

  * * *

  Dusk was falling. Dillon sat on the stoop. His eyes were watching the sun sinking behind the trees. He was seriously worried. One hundred bucks was all he had left. One hundred bucks was as useful as a horse’s tail.

  He got to his feet restlessly. This dump was driving him crazy. He looked around for Roxy, but could see no sign of him in the thickening dusk. It was still very close, and a faint hot breeze fanned his face.

  He wandered round the shack, glancing in the windows. He saw Ma Chester busy with a flat-iron. For a moment he stood looking at her, then his eyes shifted to old man Chester hunched up over the stove. Shrugging, he wandered on. The next window was a little higher, and he had to stretch to see in. One look made him stiffen to attention.

  Chrissie was moving about in the dim light of a flickering candle, undressing. She pulled her clothes off with difficulty, her fingers fumbling awkwardly with the buttons.

  Dillon remained there watching, until she blew the light out. A primitive animal feeling for her gripped him, so that he could only stay there staring into the blackness of the room. The sudden realization that he had been cooped up in this shack for so many days without a woman came upon him with paralysing violence.

  He was still standing there peering into the darkness when Roxy found him. Roxy said quietly, “What the hell you doin’ here?”

  Dillon started round. He looked at Roxy uneasily.

  “I’ve been lookin’ for you,” he said, his mind still far away with his thoughts.

  Roxy looked up at Chrissie’s window. His face hardened.

  “You didn’t think I was in with the kid?” he said softly.

  “Kid?” Dillon sneered. “She ain’t no kid… she’s a woman.”

  Roxy stretched out a hand and took Dillon’s coat front. “Lay off that, Dillon,” he said. “By God! Don’t you start anythin’ with that girl. She’s good an’ she’s simple…. I won’t stand for it.”

  An overwhelming rage mounted inside Dillon. He flung Roxy’s hand away. “Listen, you louse,” he said. “You do as I tell you…. If I want that broad, I’m havin’ her—get it? You ain’t stoppin’ me, or any goddam heel like you.”

  Roxy stood very still. “If that’s the way you feel…” he said.

  Dillon couldn’t quite see his face in the light, but he didn’t like the threat in Roxy’s voice.

  He suddenly saw the danger of making an enemy of Roxy and he retreated hastily. “Forget it, will you?” he said surlily. “I guess the heat’s worryin’ me. I guess I was crazy.”

  “Sure.” Roxy’s voice was relieved. “I know how it is. This place gives me the jitters. Suppose we take the heap and get into town?”

  Dillon nodded. “We’ll take the Thompson. I guess they won’t be lookin’ for us to drive in.” He was eager to get away. “An’ say, I guess we can check up on that punk Joe. Maybe we’ll hear somethin’.”

  Roxy said, “Let’s go…. We won’t tell the old woman.”

  They walked quickly over to the shed where the car was hidden and quietly pushed her out. Dillon went back to the shack, passed through the room where Ma Chester was working, nodded to her briefly and went into his own room. He picked up the Thompson, then, gently pushing the window up, he climbed out, dropping to the ground. He ran round quickly to where Roxy was waiting with the car.

  “I guess we’re nuts not to have done this before,” Dillon said, sitting beside Roxy. “Suppose we stick up a service station? We want some dough badly enough.”

  Roxy said, “Sure. Why not?”

  They drove on into the night. Dillon sat with the Thompson on his knees, his eyes searching the dark road ahead for the sign of a light. He was nervous, but it felt good to get away from that shack.

  After some time Roxy said, “Round the bend is one of those Conoco stations. We’ll drive up an’ get a tank full…. If there ain’t any excitement, we might surprise ’em.”

  Dillon nod
ded. “Yeah,” he said. “You do that.”

  Roxy slowed down, and they ran round the bend. The station was about a couple of hundred yards down the road. A big car was just pulling away, heading towards them. Dillon’s fingers tightened on the gun, but the car swept past.

  An attendant was going back into the office when he spotted their lights. He stopped and stood waiting at the petrol pump.

  Roxy drew up beside him. The attendant was a fair-haired youngster, his eyes heavy for want of sleep.

  “Give her ten,” Roxy said.

  Dillon pushed open the door and stepped into the road. The darkness and the shadow of the car hid him. He saw the office was empty.

  Roxy said, “Get a move on…. We ain’t got all night.”

  The attendant called, “It’s in, Mister.” He screwed the cap home and came round to Roxy.

  Roxy said, “Gotta paper I can look at?” He gave the boy a bill.

  “Sure. It’s in the office. I’ll get it for you.”

  Roxy opened the door of the car and got out. “I’ll come in with you,” he said. “I guess I could stretch my legs.”

  He followed the attendant into the office. Dillon walked quietly behind them and waited just outside the door.

  The attendant went to the till and rang the drawer open. Dillon walked in and rammed the Thompson into his back. “Take it easy,” he said.

  The attend ant looked over his shoulder and gasped. He tossed his arms above his head. Roxy stepped past him and emptied the till. There wasn’t much there.

  “This all there is?” Roxy demanded.

  The attendant was utterly terrified. He nodded his head. “Sure… That’s all… Mister… honest, it is.”

  Roxy grunted. “Like bashin’ a kid’s money-box,” he said.

  Dillon took the attendant by the arm and spun him round. He shoved him into a chair. “Know who I am?” he demanded. “I’m Dillon… the guy the cops are after.”

  The boy’s face was blank. “I don’t know you, boss,” he said with a gulp.

  “Didn’t you know there’s a big reward out for me?”

  The boy shook his head.

  “Where’s that paper?” Dillon snarled.

  Roxy had already found it and was looking through it. Finally he tossed it down. “Not a word,” he said.

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Dillon raved. “It was a frame to skin me.” He pointed furiously to the door. “Get out!” he shouted at Roxy. “Get in the car an’ wait.”

  Roxy gave him a quick look, then he went out into the darkness and climbed into the car. As he settled himself he heard a sudden terrified scream. He put his hand on the car door, then hesitated. His hand fell to his side.

  Dillon came running out. His face was like stone. “Get goin’,” he snapped.

  “What was that?” Roxy asked uneasily, as he engaged his gears.

  “What you think?” Dillon snarled from the darkness. “Think I could let that punk run around and yap his head off?”

  Roxy said nothing. He moved a little way away from Dillon. He said at last, “I guess we’d better get back.”

  “Get back nothin’,” Dillon said, his voice gritty. “I’m goin’ to see Joe. Keep her goin’.”

  They reached Joe’s place after a long run. The road carried little traffic, and the cars that swept passed them didn’t bother them.

  At Joe’s, Dillon got out quickly. “You stay here,” he said, “I’ll handle this bastard. Sound your horn if anythin’ starts.”

  Roxy opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it. He sat still, watching the road.

  A light still burned in Joe’s room. Dillon walked quietly up the path. He tried the door, but it was locked. He rapped on the door with his knuckles. Roxy could hear him from the car. After a pause, Joe came. He stood in the open doorway, his mouth hanging slack.

  Dillon moved the Thompson so he could see it. “Get inside,” he said through his teeth.

  Joe fell back, his eyes glued to the gun. He couldn’t say a word.

  Dillon forced him into the room and shut the door. “I’m on to you, you double-crossing sonofabitch,” he said. “Hand over that dough.”

  Joe fumbled in his pocket and brought out the roll. He said in a quavering voice, “You got me wrong…. I know you’ve got me wrong.”

  Dillon snatched it from him. “Where’s the rest of it?” he demanded. “You know, the thousand you said you lost?”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “I did lose it,” he gasped. “I don’t get this… what’s it all about… ain’t you stayin’ at Ma’s no more?”

  Dillon said, “Give me the rest of the dough or I’ll blast you… My finger is itching…. Snap to it!”

  The Thompson was pointing at Joe’s vest. He gave a strangled gasp. “I’ll get it for you, Mister…” he whined. “Don’t you shoot… I’ll get it.”

  He stumbled over to the table and took another roll of notes from the drawer. Dillon made him count it. “I got the car—” Joe began explaining.

  Dillon cut him short. “Come on out,’ he said. “I still got somethin’ for you to do. You play ball, an’ you’ll come outta this okay, but you gotta watch your step.”

  Joe went with him to the car. Roxy stared, but didn’t move. Dillon pushed Joe into the back of the car, then he said to Roxy in a low voice, “Get to the river… quick.” He got in beside Joe, and Roxy sent the car shooting forward.

  They rode in silence for a mile or so, then Joe said, “Where… where you takin’ me?” He was suddenly uneasy.

  Dillon looked for Joe’s face in the darkness, saw the white outline and swung his fist. Roxy heard the soft spat as his fist crushed into Joe’s face. Joe gave a muffled groan and slid forward in his seat. He ducked his head, holding his hands over his nose.

  Dillon pulled his arms from his face slowly. He had to exert a little strength. Joe sobbed, “No… no….” Dillon said, “Here it is, you heel!” and swung his hand again.

  Roxy slowed down. He peered ahead until he saw the glitter of water in the moonlight, then he stopped the car. “This is it,” he said.

  Dillon got out of the car. He said to Roxy, “Get him out of there…. I don’t want to wash that heap again.”

  Joe gave a scream. Roxy put his arms round him and half dragged, half pulled him out of the car. Joe couldn’t stand. He put his legs down, but they folded up, so that he fell down in the road.

  Dillon said, “Move the car up a bit.”

  Roxy got in the car and moved it forward. Joe lay in the red circle of the tail-lamp. Complete and awful panic seized him. He suddenly lost control of his sphincter muscle. Dillon shot him with the Thompson. Just one harsh roar of the gun and Joe was nearly cut in two, the slugs, like a steel knife ripped across his chest, killing him instantly.

  Dillon said, “We gotta get him into the river.”

  Roxy leant out of the car. “I don’t like touchin’ him,” he said. “I guess I just hate touchin’ that guy.”

  “Get goin’…. We might get company pretty soon.” Even Dillon was slow off the mark. He put the Thompson in the car and they both walked slowly to Joe. They got him into the river. Standing on the bank, they watched the water close over him. The current was strong. They could see the rush of water in the moonlight. Joe would be taken care of for a little while.

  Dillon reached forward and washed his hands in the river. He wiped them dry on the grass.

  “I guess he ain’t goin’ to talk no more,” he said, staring out across the swiftly moving river.

  Roxy stood just behind him. In spite of the close night, he felt cold. His eyes were on Dillon’s back. He suddenly shivered a little.

  * * *

  The next two days drifted by. Both Roxy and Dillon were on edge. They did not talk about Joe, but he was on their minds all right. On the morning of the third day it came as a little stabbing shock when Ma Chester said during the morning meal, “Joe’s comin’ out today. He promised to bring me some stores. I guess he’ll be
along pretty soon.” There was a lot of pride in Ma’s voice when she said it.

  Roxy glanced up and looked across at Dillon. Then he pushed his plate away and got up. “Maybe he’ll bring a newspaper,” he said with difficulty.

  Ma Chester began clearing the table. “If Joe said he’d bring a newspaper, he’ll bring a newspaper. Joe is that sort of a guy. I always say you can rely on Joe.”

  A thin, mirthless smile went over Dillon’s face. He followed Roxy out into the open. They wandered away together.

  “Think the cops’ll come on out here?” Roxy said quietly.

  Dillon shook his head. “Don’t seem like Joe talked about this place…. We gotta keep an eye open, but I guess they won’t.”

  Roxy sat on the side of the well. He lit a cigarette. Dillon could see his hands shaking. “We’re takin’ an awful risk stayin’ here,” he said at last.

  Dillon put his foot on the edge of the well. “Where the hell else can we go?” he asked irritably.

  Roxy shrugged. He didn’t know. They remained there some little time discussing things but getting no farther, then impatiently Roxy got up. “I guess I’ll go an’ fix that fence. I’m almost through.”

  Dillon watched him go. When Roxy had disappeared round the side of the shack, Dillon saw Chrissie come out. She stood looking round for Roxy. Dillon kept his eyes off her face, and eyed her over from her neck down. A sudden tightness gripped him across his chest. He wandered slowly over to her, going slow so as not to startle her. She looked at him without interest.

  “I’m goin’ shootin’,” he said when he reached her. “Suppose you come along an’ watch.”

  Her face brightened a little. “I want Roxy,” she said. “Where’s Roxy?”

  Dillon said as patiently as he could, “Roxy’s fixin’ the old fence somewhere.” He took his gun from his holster and pretended to look at it. The gleaming barrel attracted Chrissie’s attention. She moved forward, peering at it.

  “Some gun, ain’t it?” Dillon said, showing it to her.