The Big Book of Reel Murders

by Stories That Inspired Great Crime Films (epub)

  * * *

  —

  I drove to the Marina a couple blocks away, and stopped at the edge of the Bay along with other cars in the parking space there. We stayed an hour, perhaps; talking and watching the Bay and the beautiful yellow-lighted expanse of the Bridge. I was tired, it was nice sitting there, and I enjoyed it.

  Ruth drove back with me on the floor in the rear as we passed the toll gate. In the garage, the big metal door closed. I opened the kitchen door, waited for Ruth to step past me, then followed her into the house. Entering the lighted living room, she stopped so suddenly I bumped into her; then I, too, saw Nova, sitting in the big easy chair near the window. “Evenin’,” he said, “I been waitin’ for you.”

  * * *

  —

  We just stood there, stunned and motionless, and Nova said, “All alike, these houses,” nodding at the back door. “All got one more door’n you can ever remember to lock. So I come in, even though I ain’t been invited. Got some news for you.”

  I walked on, then, toward the davenport, dead furious and terribly frightened at this malicious fat man who’d walked into my house. “Yeah?” I said.

  “I was s’posed to be on tonight,” he said, “out to the prison. Extra man on the first watch. Lot of extra duty lately, you know”—he grinned as though this were funny. “Most hideouts don’t last long, though,” he said complacently, “so I phoned the prison maybe ten minutes ago, just before time to leave. And sure enough, the sergeant says, ‘We don’t need you; Jarvis made it out tonight.’ ”

  I nodded slowly. “How?”

  Nova threw back his head, laughing silently. “How?” he said. “You don’t know how? Well, I’ll tell you somethin’. They don’t either, out to the prison.” He sat forward in his chair, glancing from one to the other of us, grinning. “Seems some guy got his car clouted tonight. At the Greenbrae intersection; just where you’d expect a con might come out on the highway from the prison. And when he tells the state cops how—guy took it with a wooden pistol; young guy in blue denims all dirtied up, needs a shave—the cops take the man right to the prison. And he picks out your brother’s photograph from a batch of them. That’s him all right, the guy says; I can tell from the eyes and the hair. Put a two, three day black beard on the picture, and that’s the man.”

  Nova shook his head. “Warden’s a slow man to give up a search, though. Anybody can clout a car wearin’ blue denims and needin’ a shave”—he stared at my clothes and face, then winked. “And the guy coulda made a mistake about the picture, though the wood pistol looks suspicious, like maybe a con carved it out. But the Warden kept the red light on just the same. Only now they had a state cop, radio-car man, pokin’ around where this car was clouted, and this cop brings in your brother’s ID card, all tore up. The pieces fit together like a jig-saw, and it didn’t fly over the walls by itself. So looks like your brother made it out; they don’t know how, but he sure as hell must have. Green light’s on again now, and I can go home and get some sleep.”

  “That’s good,” I said.

  “Yeah,” said Nova, “only I wouldn’t be able to sleep.” He leaned toward me. “I lie in bed and worry, Mr. Jarvis.”

  I knew he wanted me to say it, so I did. “About what?”

  * * *

  —

  “Money. Money, Mr. Jarvis. They’ll retire me soon, and I ain’t saved much. If I had few thousand dollars—I could go home and sleep, ’steada worryin’ about some escaped con. I tell you I met your brother the other day?” I didn’t bother answering, and he said, “Yep; looked just like you. Exactly like you, now I see you in a good light. Especially wearin’ those clothes you got on.” He slapped his knee, as though at a sudden hilarious notion. “Say!” he said. “If you was to’ve clouted some guy’s car tonight in that get-up—’stead of your brother, I mean—wouldn’t that’ve been funny! They’d figure it was your brother, figure he was out. And all the time he’d still be in the prison somewhere! And where would that be?” he said thoughtfully. Then he shrugged. “Only one place I’d want to be. Green light goes on, they come down off the walls in the industrial area; that’s where I’d want to be. Place quiets down for the night, over you go, and nothin’ to stop you.” He smiled. “Almost makes a man wish it did happen that way. Go out there, wait by the wall, and when he comes over, grab him. Chance for promotion and more money.” Again he laughed silently, shaking his head in amusement. “Just shows you the notions a man can get, sittin’ around thinkin’ and worryin’ about money, instead of just goin’ home and sleepin’.”

  “I haven’t any money, Mr. Nova,” I said quietly. “Couple hundred dollars.”

  “Well,” he said, and put his hands on his knees, “money isn’t everything.”

  “All right, Nova,” I said. “What is?”

  * * *

  —

  “Friendship,” he said softly. “You know, I had the idea you folks was settin’ yourself above people. Had to force myself in here”—he smiled as though he’d made a joke—“ ’fore I even got to sit down in your livin’ room. ’Spect I was wrong about you, though. Hope so, anyway, ’cause I’m a friendly man. Nothin’ I like better than people droppin’ in on me, any time at all. Even now, for example; old lady’s asleep, and a house fallin’ down wouldn’t wake her. Yes, sir, if I had company drop in on me tonight, I wouldn’t even think of goin’ out.”

  I was staring at him, trying to fathom what he could be talking about.

  “Nothin’ll happen out at Quentin for an hour,” Nova said. “Leastways, I’m willin’ to gamble on that. So I’m goin’ home, and stay there—for thirty minutes. Company drops in on me. I’ll stay home. Her, I’m talkin’ about. You.” He pointed at Ruth. “Just a half hour’s company”—his eyes were shiny, and his tongue touched his lips—“while we get better acquainted. And I stay home, and glad to.”

  I was at him, right arm swinging as hard as I could throw it, and it stopped in mid-air, my fist smacking his meaty palm like a .22 rifle shot. Then he grabbed me, his immense arms wrapped around me, holding mine tight to his sides, and he lifted me off my feet without effort, squeezing me harder and harder, his mean little eyes grinning into mine. Ruth flailing at him. The pressure tightened, the pain flashing till I knew another fractional increase of pressure would crack my ribs. Then he simply arched his great chest and belly, stepping forward as he let go of me. I’m not a small man, and I’m strong, but I landed hard on the floor, and rolled twice from the force of that powerful beer-barrel of a body. “Thirty minutes.” Nova said, “to make up your mind.” Then he opened the door, stepped out, and was gone.

  Ruth was sitting on the davenport beside me some two or three minutes later, clutching my forearm. “Ben, calm down!” she was saying. “He won’t let you get near him with a poker, an iron bar, or anything else; you think he doesn’t know you’d want to try? Even if you did, you might kill him, and one thing you’re not going to do for Arnie is murder!”

  “Then I’ve got to warn Arnie; go over that wall again, and—”

  “Ben, Ben, you’re not thinking, you’re just wild! Right now Nova’s sitting at his window; you know he is. You couldn’t even open the garage door before he’d see you, and he’d be out there as fast as you would. Or just phone San Quentin.”

  I was on my feet shouting at her. “Are you trying to tell me there’s nothing to do! That we just sit here and let him go out and take Arnie!”

  * * *

  —

  She was shaking her head. “No,” she said. She reached up, and put a hand on my arm. “Ben, I hate that old man. If his hand touched mine, I couldn’t be comfortable till I’d washed it a dozen times. And anything more than that—” She just shook her head, eyes closing. Then she opened them, her face white. “But, Ben, it’s death for Arnie, the gas chamber, or…the worst half-hour I’ll ever live through. What right have I got to choose! Other women
have been through even worse, and survived! Oh, Ben, can I let Arnie go to the gas chamber?”

  * * *

  —

  “No!” I actually shouted it, staring down at her wild-eyed. “Ruth, no! That’s”—I couldn’t find the word—“wrong! It’s not possible to even think about! What do you think I am! Why, damn it, I love you!”

  Her hands were at her face, and she was whispering, “I couldn’t. I couldn’t have done it! But Arnie in the gas chamber…but I couldn’t have. Ben, I love you, too,” she said, hands still over her face. “I can’t help it, but I do; I wish I were dead.” Sitting down beside her, I held her close. After a time, she looked up at me. “What are we going to do?”

  “Listen,” I said quietly, “Could you get on the phone, and talk to Nova? Lower your voice, get close to the phone, and sound upset, as though you’d been crying. Tell him—tell him you finally brought me around, that we had a big fight about it, but I had to say yes. Tell him—anything; just talk. Tell him you’ll be over in a few minutes; make it real, believe it yourself, sound upset and tearful. Just hold him there. Ruth, till I can get out of the garage, and past his house in the car. Give me all the time you can, then hang up, lock all the doors, and wait. Ruth, can you do that?”

  She nodded. “Ben, kiss me,” she said, and I did.

  I held her tight, and kissed her then, and I wished we were a long way from here. I wished anything but the way things were. Then we went out to the kitchen, and as I stepped into the garage, Ruth picked up the phone, leafing through the book.

  Once again I climbed that dark hill, and once again entered the prison as I had before, climbing down directly beside the furniture factory, and leaving my rope suspended from the wall; I had no time to waste. The area looked the same—silent, empty—and the bare earth at my feet in the light from the walls looked undisturbed. I actually had to kneel, my eyes only inches from the ground, as I hunted for the tiny circlet of screening. I couldn’t find it. Minutes passed, as I stumbled on my knees over that patch of earth between the high concrete wall and the factory.

  Finally I had to do it. “Arnie!” I called, in as loud and harsh a whisper as I dared. “Arnie!” I said it louder. “It’s Ben! Open up!” Then I drew a deep breath, and shouted it. “Arnie! It’s Ben!” Then I heard a sound, turned, and Arnie was heaving himself out of his shelter just behind me, eyes wide and questioning, his face white and washed-out looking under the black stubble. “We’ve got to leave!” I said. “Don’t ask any questions, but be ready for trouble!”

  He just nodded quickly, and jerked his chin at the rope hanging down the wall. I ran to it, and climbed it. Grasping a metal post on the wall top. I pulled myself to my feet, and a quiet voice in the darkness below me on the other side said, “All right, come down easy; I’ve got a gun on you.” And then I saw Nova, his bulky silhouette barely darker than the ground he stood on, and I knew it had been foolish to hope Ruth could fool him into stupidly waiting in his house, giving us the time we had needed. I pulled up my rope, Nova watching me from below, gun aimed at my belly, and I looped it around a guard rail, clattering and banging the hook against the metal. Then I tossed the hook and rope end over, and slid down, face to the wall. As my feet touched the ground, the gun muzzle pressed into my back and Nova said, “Hands on your head; and walk down the road slow.”

  I clasped my hands on my head, still facing the wall, and moaned. “My ankle, I can’t walk; it’s—”

  * * *

  —

  “Move!” Nova stepped up beside me, pulling at my shoulder, prying me from the wall, and Arnie, legs doubled up, hugging his knees, dropped from the wall he had climbed to the moment Nova spoke, onto Nova’s back, smashing him to the ground with such terrible force that I knew if he’d landed squarely it would have broken Nova’s neck. Arnie rolled, hugging his legs, then scrambled to his feet, and ran back. He snatched up the gun which had spun from Nova’s hand, and then, his feet straddling Nova’s body, Arnie leaned over him, the gun barrel aiming directly at Nova’s head. From the jerk of Arnie’s hand, I understood suddenly that he was tugging at the trigger, and I reached out, and yanked the gun from his hand.

  “Oh,” Arnie said, in a little sound of surprise and understanding, “the safety’s on; gimme that gun.”

  I said, “No; let’s get out of here,” and Arnie blinked, then nodded, and turned to pull down my rope, then pick up his from where he’d thrown it as he leaped.

  We couldn’t leave Nova there, and we took him under an arm, and dragged him to his feet, staggering toward the road with him, and the hill just beyond it. And astoundingly, this massive man began to walk, stumbling along, shaking his head, and beginning to mutter. Within half a dozen steps, he was wrenching his arms from ours, and I shoved the gun into his back, and we climbed the hill, then down the other side to our cars.

  * * *

  —

  I had Nova drive into my open garage in my car, with me in the back seat, the gun at his head. Arnie, following in Nova’s car, parked it at the curb, then came on into the garage. I pulled the garage door down, watching Nova, then turned to see Ruth standing in the kitchen doorway staring at us. Arnie hurried across the garage, stepped up into the kitchen, grabbed Ruth to him, and then stood, his back to me, holding her, squeezing her tight, his cheek against hers, and murmuring something. I couldn’t hear what—while Ruth stared at me over his shoulder, her eyes stricken and pleading for help. Herding Nova before me, I moved toward them, my mind hunting for words.

  But I didn’t find them. A man at gunpoint before me, Ruth in Arnie’s arms, all I could think of to say was, “Arnie,” and when he turned to look at me questioningly—I didn’t know how to tell him! All I could say was, “Arnie, it’s about Ruth and…me, Arnie, you’ll have to try to understand!” I stopped, because he was no longer listening. His head swung to Ruth, and, her face anguished, she could only nod; but that was enough. He turned and walked into the living room, his face averted, and we followed after; I motioned Nova to a chair, and he sat down.

  Arnie was standing, staring out the window at the dark empty street. When he turned back, he was smiling, and he glanced from Ruth to me. “I can understand it,” he said. “You’ve been here, together, and…” He shrugged, and said, “Well, I can understand it. Sure I can! And I won’t hold it against you. Either of you! I was gone, and…You’ve both done a lot for me! But now I’m out, and”—the smile was gone, and his voice was suddenly desperate—“Ruth, we’ll forget it! Forget it ever happened! I’ll never mention it! You’ll come along with me, and—”

  “Arnie!” I said, and he turned to stare at me. “You don’t understand,” I said, my voice begging him to try. “It’s not what you think. Arnie, we love each—”

  “Don’t say it!” He spat it out like a single word. “I don’t want to hear it”—he was shaking his head violently. “It’s not true! It can’t be. You only think—”

  “Arnie, Arnie,” I said desperately, “It is true. I’m sorry, we didn’t mean it, never intended it, we tried not to, but—”

  His hand was up, cutting me off, and now he walked toward Ruth, sitting on the davenport. He bent down to stare into her eyes. “You say it,” he said softly. “So far you’ve only nodded your head. But now I want to hear it from you, if you’ve got the nerve. You tell me you’ve ditched me! You tell me you didn’t have the simple guts and loyalty to stick with me; go ahead!” he shouted, the cords of his neck standing out. “Tell me!”

  Her eyes suffering, she said. “I can only tell you, Arnie, that I love Ben. And if it’ll help you, and I hope it will, that I didn’t love you, much as I liked you, and still do. We’d never have been married, Arnie, I know that now, and Ben had nothing to do with that. Even if I’d never met Ben, you and I could never—”

  He turned away from her. “Well, I’m glad,” he said quietly, conversationally, addressing no one in particular. “I’m
damn glad to know we’d never have been married. Because you’re a tramp,” he said, turning to Ruth again, “and I’m lucky to find it out now. Whoever happens to be around—that’s who appeals to you, as it turns out. I’m away, out of circulation, so whoever comes along suits you just as well.”

  I could have said something, I could have moved across the room, and shut him up, but I didn’t have the heart, and I knew Ruth would understand it.

  “Well, I wish you luck with her, pal,” he said to me. “I wish you luck with this two-bit—” He began to cry. “Ruth, please come with me,” he said in a low voice. “Ruth, I’ve counted on it”—his eyes squeezed shut, the tears running down his cheeks. “Ruth, you’ve got to. Oh, Lord”—he swung away toward the window, hiding his face—“I’m alone.”

  This was worse than anything I’d ever expected. I couldn’t stand it, and counting on Ruth to say so if Nova moved. I crossed the room, put an arm around Arnie’s shoulders, and said, “You’ve got to try to understan—”

  * * *

  —

  “No!”—he jerked away. “You took her away, damn you! You help me escape—take Ruthie away—that’s a fair trade, I suppose! Well, I just don’t want to understand.” He turned and walked past me, toward the hall. “I’m still dependent on you, Benny,” he said quietly. “I’m not allowed any pride. I’ve got to shave. I need clothes, and I need the key you’ve got for me.” And I nodded, told him where he could find what he needed, and gave him the key to the apartment we had rented. Then I sat down on the davenport beside Ruth, to sit watching Nova till Arnie was ready to go. Presently he walked out through the living room, shaved and dressed, wearing a suit of mine. He walked straight to the door, opened it, and walked out without looking at any of us, and my heart cried out for him, but there was nothing to say. A moment later we heard Nova’s car start up.