The Kidnapper

by Robert Bloch

  I drove slow and kept my eyes open. This was one time for sure when I wouldn’t take any chances. I began to sweat when I got close to the crossroads, but there was nobody in sight. Couple cars parked outside the tavern, but no cops.

  She trailed me a good half mile. I turned off, waiting until she could see me, and hit the other road that wound in around the side of the lake. It was dark and quiet. Just a piece of the moon was out. For a while we were passing cottages regular, with lights in the windows. Then they thinned out and the road went through woods. Nobody built around here because of the bluff on this side; they couldn’t get down to the water.

  I kept going, not doing more than twenty-five, and she came along slow behind me. Then I saw the little cutoff I wanted. It ran back through the trees to the water for maybe a block and a half, no more than that. And it was clear. I could see the fence at the edge.

  I stopped right where I’d turned off and waited for her to come up behind me. Then I got out and walked over.

  “Drive back about a quarter mile,” I told her. “Keep your motor running, but no lights, remember? I’m going up and look at that fence, see if this deal can be rigged to fool them. If it’s okay, I’ll run the car in. Then, the minute you see me moving, come along. I’ll jump out and get back here to be picked up. Won’t take more than a minute after I’m started.”

  “Yes, Steve.”

  “Quit shivering, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Just do like I say. And if you see anyone coming behind you or ahead of you, get those lights on and take off. They won’t chase you—not if they hear the splash. They’ll stop to find out what’s happening. Go back to the cottage and wait. Just wait. I’ll be there.”

  “No—”

  I kissed her. “Run along, now. Here goes.”

  I waited until she backed up, then walked down to the fence. I leaned against it; it was so rickety the boards almost came off in my hand. The water was black below, and I could see little white patches sticking up. Rocks. Everything was perfect.

  Then I walked back to the car and put Specs up on the seat. I unwrapped the blanket, but tried to keep from looking at his face and head. This was the bad part; driving down the last little stretch of road with him.

  But I had to do it. And like I told Mary, it would only take a minute.

  I opened the door and got ready. No need to go too fast. I should have brought a whiskey bottle or something, so they’d think he’d been drinking. But they probably would figure that anyway. No, this was good enough as it was.

  I started up. The motor sounded loud.

  Then I realized why. There was more than one motor going. I could hear another—two others. They came from the road. I looked in the mirror. Sure enough, there was Mary coming in the Olds, with the lights on. And that meant—

  That meant I couldn’t stop now. I jammed my foot down and the car rolled. I could see the fence coming up, and the car lurched, and for a minute Specs’ body wobbled and bounced against me.

  Then we were hitting, and I jumped clear. There was a crash, and the whole works went over. A wave splashed up and soaked me from head to foot.

  I looked back. The Olds was gone. But there was another car, and it was slowing down, getting ready to turn in. A light came sweeping along the road. In a second it would hit me.

  But I didn’t wait for it. I looked down, took a deep breath, and dived into the water.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I almost thought I wasn’t going to make it. I didn’t dare come too close to the shore, and I had to go slow so as not to make any noise.

  The two times I really was scared about was when boats came by, with outboard motors. I ducked underwater, then.

  The boats were headed over to the shore where the car had gone down. They could hear the noise.

  By the time I was far enough out so I figured it was safe to look back, I couldn’t see anything. There was a car parked there at the edge, and I saw two more come driving in, but that’s all. Nobody was shining any spotlights out over the water, so probably they hadn’t noticed me. That was good. It might still be all right, if they hadn’t. And if Mary got back safe.

  But I was tired. I wasn’t used to swimming such a long ways, and the last half-mile across that lake was murder. I had to make sure of coming out below our cottage, too. It was tough going, there in the dark, but every stroke took me farther away from Specs and closer to the dough. That’s what I kept telling myself.

  When I finally got in to where I could wade ashore, I just lay down in the shallows and panted until I got my breath back. I didn’t even have the strength to look up over the bank, see if the cottage lights were on.

  I don’t know how long it took me to swim back, or how long I rested. At last I felt good enough to stand up and take a look. The lights were on, all right, and there wasn’t any cars in the driveway. She’d made it.

  She’d made it, and I’d made it.

  That should have made me feel good. But I was just numb. Today had taken everything out of me. It was all I could do to drag myself up the bank, into the back yard, up the steps.

  The door was locked. I banged on it. She stuck her head around the corner of the shade, then opened up.

  “Darling, you’re all right!”

  “Sure. Nothing to it. They see you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Cops?”

  “No. I couldn’t see very good, but it looked like a light-colored car to me.”

  “State police have cream-colored sedans.” I brushed the wet hair out of my eyes. “Doesn’t matter, anyway. They’ll be there soon enough. Main thing is, if they didn’t see you or see me go over.”

  “You swam all the way back?”

  “Yeah. I’m beat.”

  “Get out of those wet clothes. I’ll fix you a drink.”

  “Good idea.”

  I went into the john and stripped. I ran water in the tub, climbed in, lay down. Then I closed my eyes.

  She was knocking on the door.

  “What’s the matter, Steve? What’s happened?”

  “Oh.” I opened my eyes. “I guess I fell asleep here in the tub. I’ll be right out.”

  I got up and looked at myself in the mirror. Boy, was I a mess! It wasn’t that my face was still dirty or anything, and I’d shaved around noon—but my eyes were all red and sunk into my head. That’s what today had done to me. Today and all the other days of waiting and worrying. Well, it was over now.

  I put on my robe and walked out to the kitchen. Mary had helped herself to a drink, and now she poured a second one to keep me company. I watched her put it down. She’d changed, too—she knew how to drink now. Except that I noticed her hands trembled a little, and she poured another shot right away for herself.

  But what the hell. She deserved it. And so did I. I bought myself another drink, too. And another. The stuff was all right, but it didn’t work on me tonight. I was too tight, too nervous.

  All of a sudden I noticed a funny thing.

  We weren’t talking to each other.

  Neither of us had said a word for over twenty minutes—we just sat there and tossed it down.

  “Come on, honey, cheer up and say something. It’s all over now.”

  “No it isn’t.”

  “Sure. We made it. Like I said we would—you and me, together.” I lifted my glass.

  She started to lift hers, then put it down again. “Let’s hear the news,” she said. “Come on.”

  “What for?”

  “You know what for.”

  “Aw, forget it. Wait until morning.”

  “I can’t wait. I want to know.”

  She got up and went into the front room. It was a couple minutes past twelve, time for the broadcast, all right. The radio came on strong.

  “—no liquor found in the car, although police believe that Schumann had been drinking. The printing set found in the glove compartment has been positively identified as the one used to print the ransom note sent t
o the Warren family. Borger is certain that he saw the lights of another automobile disappear down the road at the moment Schumann’s car went over the bluff, and it is possible that accomplices escaped with the ransom money, none of which was discovered at the scene of the accident. In a statement issued just half an hour ago, however, Chief of Police Hoskins has this to say, quote: I am confident that the kidnapping was the work of one man. On the basis of the evidence, and of the letter received today by the Warren Family from the missing maid, Mary Adams, it seems certain that the entire crime was conceived and executed by Leo Schumann, in spite of his references to a partner in telephone conversations with Mr. Warren. This department, however, has no intention of relaxing its vigilance until the ransom money is found and the whereabouts of Shirley Mae Warren is discovered. Unquote. The Chief refused to comment on the possibilities of the Warren child being alive at this time. And that’s the latest news on the kidnapping at this moment. Time now for the news bulletins, but first—friends, the next time you suffer from acid indigestion, why not try—”

  I snapped it off.

  “Satisfied?” I said.

  “Oh, yes! That sounds good, doesn’t it, Steve? Except what this Borger said—he must be the one in the car behind me, don’t you think? But he told about the lights, and maybe they’ll check up.”

  “What can they check up on? Not tire tracks—I’ll bet a hundred cars have come by that stretch since then. Besides, you heard what that fathead chief of police had to say. We’re safe. You willing to drink to that now?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Come on, then.” We went out to the kitchen and I filled our glasses. “Down the hatch.”

  “You’re drinking a lot tonight, Steve.”

  “I need it. Rough day.”

  “Oh, I don’t care.” She got a smile on her face, at last. “It’s nice, the way it makes you feel. Only, remember the other time, when I drank too much and passed out? I don’t want you to pass out tonight, Steve.”

  “You don’t, huh?”

  “No.” She came over and sat in my lap. “I had a rough day, too. I need some more medicine, I guess.”

  “Try this.” I poured her another.

  “Thanks.” She gulped it down. “Only that’s not the kind I mean.”

  She put her hand inside the robe. I slapped it away. “Cut it out,” I said. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Well, I am.”

  “You.” I grunted. “You’re always in the mood.”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  “Sure.” Only I didn’t. Sitting there, with her on my lap, it suddenly came to me, and it was the truth. I didn’t want her. I’d had enough. She was too dumb, and too flighty; I’d had to watch her all week now, play up to her, keep her from messing up the details.

  “Just think, Steve, here we are, just like you promised! The two of us, with all that money. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful.”

  Like hell it was. I hadn’t gone through all this, taken all those crazy chances, even killed a man, sweated it out to get that dough, just to spend the rest of my life with her. Her and her goddam “medicine.” I was going into the big leagues now, with real money, real women. Not an overgrown kid you had to cuff around to get anything out of: a dumb female who, every time you looked at her, would remind you of all the grief and bad times you went through.

  “Steve, what’s wrong? You look so funny.”

  “Tired.”

  “Have another drink.”

  “All right.”

  “I’ll have one, too. Just one more itsy-bitsy one. And then, you know what we’re gonna do?”

  “Sure.”

  I had to think about it now, had to plan. And I was tired of thinking and planning. But here it was, starting all over again. I had to do it.

  And meanwhile, Mary mustn’t know. Keep her happy, that was the way. The only way.

  This time it was different. This time, the minute we got in there, she grabbed me in the dark. “Oh, darling, I couldn’t tell you this before, but I want you to know now, the way it made me feel because you did it, you killed a man for me, didn’t you, darling? That’s why I love you, because you’re strong and you aren’t afraid of anything, and—”

  Christ, she went on like that, panting and panting and half-laughing and half-crying like she was crazy. And all I could think about was Specs. When she said the part about killing a man, I could see Specs’ face in the dark. His face, staring at me, the blood running down it, the eyes popping.

  Then, when we were on the bed, she was clawing at me and I couldn’t hear what she said, couldn’t do anything, because I was watching that face.

  So I pretended I’d passed out. After a while she lay down and went to sleep.

  I stayed awake and planned. Maybe it was all for the best, the way she’d acted. At least, she’d made up my mind for me, once and for all.

  It would be easy to kill her now.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I could have killed her while she slept, of course. That was my first idea, and it wasn’t smart. I figured it out and I saw the answer right away.

  If I killed her, and beat it, they’d find her. Sooner or later, no matter where I hid the body, they’d find her. And they’d know. Put two and two together. Specs dead and her dead. That would mean somebody was left, somebody with the money. Then they’d come looking for me.

  And the Racklins could furnish them with a good description, too.

  No, the smart way to play it would be to clear out of here with her. Go away, far enough away so nobody would know us. And then—maybe in a week, maybe in two weeks—a chance would come.

  After that, I’d be free. Free, with two hundred grand in my pocket.

  The minute I figured it out, I felt better. I felt so good I even was able to decide where we’d go, how we’d get there. And then I went to sleep.

  I went to sleep and to hell with all of it. To hell with Specs’ face, and Shirley Mae in the oil drum and to hell with Racklin’s blue eyes—they were like my old man’s eyes, I remembered that now—and to hell with everything that happened this past week.

  I slept.

  I slept until she shook me and shouted in my ear. “Steve, Steve, for God’s sake, wake up! They’re coming!”

  “Coming? Who’s coming?”

  “The police, the police, Steve, wake up!”

  I woke up all right. I was out of bed and across the room, digging into my coat pocket. “Where? Where?”

  “Oh, not outside! Not yet. But I was just listening to the radio, the news. The coroner says it wasn’t an accident—something about all that blood on the blanket, and Specs wasn’t bleeding in the water. I didn’t understand it very well, I got so scared—”

  “Take it slower. What’re you trying to tell me?”

  She could hardly talk, she was that excited. “Anyway, they figured out there must have been somebody in another car, and the Sheriff says they’re going to search the whole lake area—check up on all the cottages and places to see if they can find clues. Steve, they’re coming, we’ve got to do something—”

  “Damned right we do.” I grabbed her arm. “So don’t stand there and waste time talking. Get yourself packed. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.”

  I hit the john and shaved. It was a fast job, but I didn’t cut myself. I was calm. It was almost as though I’d expected something like this, and in a way I had. Nothing is as easy as it looks—there’s always a joker somewhere.

  And suppose they looked. We’d be out of here and on our way.

  Mary came in, putting on her makeup behind me.

  “You ready?”

  “I guess so. Steve, where are we going—Florida?”

  “Uh-uh. You heard what Racklin said. He was right, and we’re taking his advice, even though he didn’t know he was giving any. No Florida for us—not yet. What we’ll do is head for Chicago. Take a plane out of there. Trans-Canada Airlines for Montreal, Quebec; whichever leaves soonest. We’ll g
o up to Canada for a while until this thing cools down. That’s our best bet to be safe.”

  “Canada? But isn’t it cold up there?” Dumb broad, that was all she could think of. Canada was going to be plenty cold, for her.

  “It’s summertime,” I said. “Nice in those parts. We can take a boat up through the islands, maybe rent a cabin for a while.” That would be a good spot for what I had in mind; a nice backwoods cabin. I’d get her out in a boat, perhaps, make it look like a real accident if I had to.

  “I don’t want to go to Canada.”

  “All right. We’ll talk about it later. The big thing now is to get out of here. Where’s my coat?”

  “I’ll get it.”

  I went in and took the suitcases off the bed, carried them out to the car. I checked the gas and oil—better than half full. I made sure the trunk was locked, then stuck the keys in the ignition. After that, there was time for one more quick look around the garage. Everything was straight. I opened the garage door.

  Mary was still inside, sitting at the kitchen table. I called to her. “Come on, hurry up!”

  She came out, carrying my coat, and locked the door behind her. I grabbed it, put it on. She gave me the house keys and climbed in the front seat.

  I started to get in and she said, “Oh, Steve—I forgot my purse.”

  “Jesus Christ!” I ran up the steps. “All right, I’m getting it.” How stupid can you get, I asked myself.

  Yes, how stupid can you get?

  Because I reached in my pocket, for the keys, and I noticed something all of a sudden. My gun wasn’t there.

  “Mary! You got my gun?”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t hear me anyway, because of the engine. She’d started the car, and it was going down the drive.

  I turned and ran for it. She shot out of the driveway, going like a bat out of hell, and turned onto the road. She didn’t even look at me.

  For a minute I just stood there. Then I went back and opened the door and went inside the cottage. There was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do now except wait.

  Her purse wasn’t there, of course; that was just a gag. But I found something else. That’s what she’d been doing at the kitchen table—writing me a note. I sat down and read it.