I Would Rather Stay Poor

by James Hadley Chase

  Calvin’s smile widened. He looked very handsome and sure of himself as he looked towards her.

  ‘My dear girl, why on earth should I touch you?’ he asked. ‘You mustn’t be frightened of me.’

  Iris wasn’t deceived by this chilling charm. She backed away until she pressed against the steel wall of the deed boxes.

  ‘We’ll have to talk about this, won’t we?’ Calvin said. He stooped to pull a deed box towards him, then he sat on it. ‘You may think this is simple, but it isn’t. Nothing is ever simple.’ He took out a pack of cigarettes and shook a cigarette into his large hand. He lit the cigarette, squinting slightly through the smoke as he watched the girl’s white, frightened face. ‘Everyone is under the impression that Alice helped the mysterious Mr. Acres steal the payroll. She didn’t.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Does Travers think I am Johnny Acres?’

  Hypnotised by the quiet, deadly voice, Iris could only nod.

  ‘I thought he had got onto me,’ Calvin said. ‘He’s a bright boy… he’ll go far… with luck. You, of course, are working with him? You both imagine you are going to collect the reward, send me to the gas chamber, then live happily ever after. That’s the idea, isn’t it?’

  Iris didn’t say anything. She had a horrible feeling she was very close to a violent death. The sight of this fleshy-faced man as he sat calmly staring at her, knowing he had murdered Alice, knowing she was now trapped in the vault with him turned her sick with terror.

  ‘I don’t think it is going to work out that way,’ Calvin said. ‘As a matter of fact, I knew what you were up to. I knew you wanted a carbon of one of the bank letters to give to Travers. I knew you were suspicious about the typewriter. That yarn I told you that I had to go to ’Frisco was so much blah. I wanted to catch you red-handed… I have.’

  Still Iris couldn’t bring herself to say anything.

  ‘Well, now we know the facts: you’re spying for Travers and I am a bank robber, so let’s get down to negotiations,’ Calvin said, flicking ash from his cigarette. He glanced at his wrist watch. The time was twenty minutes past twelve. He wondered if Travers was expecting Iris. It would be awkward if Travers came over to see what was keeping her. There was still time, but he mustn’t waste it. ‘I think you can help me. I want to get this money out of Pittsville. You probably know the police are searching every car, checking all parcels and baggage that leaves here. It occurred to me that being the fiancée of the deputy sheriff, you could get the money out of Pittsville for me.’

  Iris drew in a long, shuddering breath.

  ‘You — you must be mad!’ she gasped.

  Calvin laughed.

  ‘Oh, come, be intelligent. I’m not mad. I’m an opportunist, and this is an opportunity. You are about the only person in this dreary town, apart from the police, who could take the money out safely. On Monday, I’ll fix it for you to go to ’Frisco on bank business. You’ll stay overnight. You will take with you a suitcase and in the suitcase will be the money. You will ask Travers to drive you to Downside Station. He’ll do it. With him as an escort, you’ll have no trouble getting the money out. You will leave the suitcase at the ’Frisco left-luggage office. You will give me the check. When I’m ready, I’ll leave here and collect the money. It’s not a bad idea, is it?’

  Iris was so astonished, she forgot her fear.

  ‘I wouldn’t help you if it’s the last thing I do! You must be mad to suggest such a thing!’

  ‘My dear girl,’ Calvin said patiently, ‘you’ll do it. You’ll have to do it. Let me explain: the woman everyone thinks was Alice: the one in the car with me was your mother.’

  Iris stiffened, staring at him.

  ‘Is it so hard to believe?’ Calvin asked. ‘Your mother was the one who started all this. It was her idea that she and I should steal the payroll. It happened this way…’

  Speaking slowly and deliberately, his eyes never leaving her white, frightened face, Calvin told her the whole story: how it was Kit’s idea that they should steal the payroll and how, together, they had planned to shift the blame onto Alice. ‘Once we had agreed to this idea,’ Calvin went on, ‘We had to decide what to do with Alice. It was Kit’s idea we should murder her. I was against it at first, but she persuaded me… she is very persuasive when she isn’t drunk. So between us, we killed her.’

  Iris listened, petrified. At first, as his voice droned on, she refused to believe what he was saying, but as he went on and on, giving details, she suddenly realised that what he was saying was the truth.

  ‘So you see,’ Calvin concluded, dropping the butt of his cigarette on the floor and putting his foot on it, ‘you’ll have to co-operate. I don’t suppose you’d be happy to be the cause of your mother going to the gas chamber, would you?’

  Iris hid her face in her hands. She felt faint. The airlessness of the vault closed in on her. The horror of what she had listened to paralysed her.

  ‘Your mother is very unreliable,’ Calvin went on. ‘If I had known she was an alcoholic I wouldn’t have listened to her. When she’s drinking heavily, I can’t control her. All she thinks about is getting her hands on the money. It’s driving her crazy knowing it is right here in the vault and she can’t spend it. That’s why I’m asking you to help me. If you don’t take the money out of Pittsville, your mother is likely to do something that’ll land not only me but her in trouble… and I mean trouble.’

  ‘I won’t listen to any of this!’ Iris said wildly. ‘I don’t believe it! Kit would never do such a thing! Let me out of here!’

  She made a sudden dash past him to the vault door. He turned on the deed box and caught her wrist, stopping her. She screamed and struck at him, her fist caught his temple. He grabbed her other wrist and pulled her to him. He was on his feet now, his breathing came through his thick nostrils in short, hard snorts that horrified her. He was grinning at her, his eyes blazing with a crazy fire that turned her cold. She ceased to struggle and stood against him, staring at him. He touched her; his hand moving over her body, making her shudder, then his hand dropped away. There was a long pause, then slowly and reluctantly, he released her and moved away.

  ‘You’re very attractive,’ he said, ‘but I’d better not… I want your help. You’ve got to help me. If you don’t, your mother will go to the gas chamber. I promise you that.’

  Iris backed away.

  ‘I’ll do nothing for you,’ she said shakily.

  ‘You will,’ Calvin said. ‘You’ll either do what I say or your mother will die. Of course you will.’

  He stepped to the vault door and pulled it open.

  ‘Go ahead. I’m not stopping you. We’ll talk again over the week-end.’

  Iris went up the steps and into the bank. She snatched her coat from the hook and walked unsteadily to the bank door. She unlocked the door and went down the path into the deserted main street.

  Very sure of himself, Calvin watched her go.

  2

  Travers got back from Downside a little after six o’clock. He found the sheriff still at his desk, pawing through a mass of papers that lay before him.

  ‘Anything new?’ the sheriff asked, leaning back in his chair and reaching for his pipe.

  ‘I’ve been checking those Remingtons,’ Travers said and dropped into a chair. ‘Nothing so far. Easton’s gone off on a wild goose chase checking the roadhouses around the district. He seems to think Acres must have taken Alice some place, and a roadhouse seems as good a bet as anything.’

  The sheriff chewed his pipe.

  ‘Suppose they did go to a roadhouse: where does that get us?’

  Travers shrugged.

  ‘He’s clutching at straws. We’ve got to try everything. I guess. I’m pretty certain Acres is still here. I’m pretty certain the money is here too. Sooner or later, he’ll be tempted to make a false move, then we’ll have him. That’s police work.’ He dropped the match into the ash bowl. ‘Iris called you around mid-day,’ the sheriff said. ‘She wanted to know if you’d b
e free this afternoon.’ He grinned sympathetically. ‘I told her you were trying to earn an honest living.’

  ‘That’s a fact,’ Travers said, but his mind was immediately alert. He had told Iris they wouldn’t be able to spend the Saturday afternoon together so she couldn’t have telephoned for the reason the sheriff had given. This must mean she had discovered something. She would be home by now. He glanced at the telephone, but decided not to call her with the sheriff listening in. He pushed back his chair. ‘Anything you want me to do?’

  ‘Why not?’ the sheriff said and waved to the mass of papers on his desk. ‘All this wants going through… reports from the highway patrols.’ He took out his heavy gold watch, ‘I guess I’ll go home. You young fellows can stand the pace better than us old ’uns. If anything turns up, call me. Those pesky thrip are at my roses again.’

  When he had gone, Travers reached for the telephone. He called the rooming-house. Miss Pearson came on the line. When Travers asked for Iris, Miss Pearson said she wasn’t in. She was the only one at home.

  ‘She’ll be back soon,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell her you called.’

  Travers thanked her and hung up. He wondered where Iris had got to, then shrugging, he settled down to work. It wasn’t until he turned on the desk light that he realised the time was now half past seven and he had had no word from Iris. He called the rooming-house again. This time it was Kit who answered.

  ‘Iris has gone to bed,’ she said curtly. ‘She had a headache.’

  ‘She’s not ill?’ Travers asked sharply.

  ‘She has a headache,’ Kit said and hung up.

  Kit had been to a movie at Downside. During the day, she had been depressed and had a premonition that something bad was going to happen. As soon as she had supervised the lunch for the old couple, she had changed and had driven to Downside where an Alfred Hitchcock film was showing. She felt she had to escape from the house. Although the film was up to Hitchcock’s usual standard, it failed to hold her and she had to force herself to sit in the darkness, knowing that if she returned home, the feeling of depression would be there to haunt her. Finally, when the film finished, she went into the gathering dusk and crossed to a bar near where she had parked her car. She drank two double whiskies. Her tension slightly relieved, she got in the car and drove home.

  She arrived back just after half past six. When she had put the car in the garage, she went into the kitchen to see that Flo had the supper in hand, then satisfied, she went up to her room.

  She found Calvin sprawled in an armchair, the ashtray on the table by his side crammed with butts. He stared at her, his blue eyes glittering.

  ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he snarled. ‘I’ve been waiting and waiting… where have you been?’

  She closed the door and walked over to the dressing-table. Sitting down, she began to tidy her hair.

  ‘When I want you in my room, I’ll invite you,’ she said, not looking at him. ‘Get out!’

  ‘Where’s Iris?’

  She paused, comb in hand and turned to stare at him.

  ‘I haven’t seen her. Why?’

  Calvin rubbed his hand over his face.

  ‘She knows.’

  The comb slipped out of Kit’s hand. It clattered on the polished boards.

  ‘Knows? Knows what?’

  ‘She knows you and I killed Alice.’

  ‘You killed her! I didn’t!’ Kit said, her voice going shrill. She jumped to her feet. ‘How does she know?’

  Calvin lit another cigarette. His hands were unsteady.

  ‘I caught her in the vault. She had found the payroll. I had to stop her mouth… either that or I’d have had to kill her. I told her you and I had pulled the robbery and you are as guilty as I am. That was the only way to stop her running to her boy-friend.’

  Kit got slowly to her feet. She walked to the window and stood looking out at the distant hills, her arms tightly folded across her breasts.

  Calvin watched her, feeling uneasy. You never knew with an alcoholic. She might blow her top, he thought.

  ‘It’s all right,’ he went on, his voice soothing. ‘She’s not going to give us away. I’ve talked her into seeing sense.’

  ‘Get out of here!’ Kit said in a low violent voice. ‘Get out or I’ll kill you!’

  ‘Now don’t start that nonsense,’ Calvin said irritably. ‘You and I are in this mess together. We’ve…’ He stopped short as she suddenly spun around and made a quick dash to the chest of drawers. He was startled how quickly she moved, but already tense, he was on his feet in a flash and had crossed the room as she wrenched open the drawer. As her hand dipped into the drawer, he caught hold of her wrist. He had a glimpse of the gun as he jerked her away. She struck at him. He caught her flying fist and flung her from him. As he scooped up the gun, she threw herself at him, panting, her eyes glittering, her face chalk-white. Again he shoved her off. She was helpless against his great strength and she went sprawling on the floor. Taking the gun, he backed to the door.

  ‘Cut it out!’ he snarled.

  She lifted herself up on her arm, her white face was ugly with hate.

  ‘Give me that gun!’ she said, but she didn’t attempt to get to her feet.

  ‘Shut up!’ Calvin said furiously. ‘Having you around is enough to drive anyone nuts.’ He slid the gun into his hip-pocket. ‘Get up and stop looking at me like that! Go on… get up!’

  She got slowly to her feet and crossed to a chair and sat down. She ran her fingers through her hair in a desperate, despairing gesture.

  ‘Has Iris been in at all?’ Calvin demanded. ‘She left the bank at half past twelve. Did she come home?’

  Kit shook her head.

  ‘Wait here,’ Calvin said, and went down the stairs to Iris’s room. He knocked on the door. Getting no answer, he turned the handle and looked into the room which was empty. He went to the closet and opened it. A quick look inside, a quick look in the drawers of the chest told him she hadn’t taken her clothes. Where was she?

  Had she decided to tell Travers? She hadn’t been home now for six hours. What was she doing?

  He went back to Kit’s room. Kit was still sitting motionless, her head buried in her hands.

  ‘I don’t know where she is,’ Calvin said, ‘but if Travers telephones tell him she had a headache and has gone to bed. I’ve got to talk to her before she sees him unless she’s seeing him now.’

  Kit didn’t look up. After staring at her for a few seconds, Calvin shrugged and went to his room. He closed the door, then taking the gun from his hip-pocket he was about to put it in a drawer of the chest when he had second thoughts.

  He was very uneasy. Had Iris decided to give him away? He thought it was unlikely, but she was young and the decision might have been too much for her. Well, if she had told Travers and if they tried to arrest him, they would have a job on their hands. He wouldn’t be taken alive. He wasn’t going to spend weeks in jail and then be taken like an animal to be slaughtered. He put the gun back in his hip-pocket. If Travers started something, he’d land up with a bellyfull of lead.

  He washed his face and hands. The time was now close on seven-fifteen. He forced himself to sit down. He lit a cigarette and tried to relax, but he was too tense. He immediately got to his feet and began to prowl around the room.

  He heard Kit go downstairs. He waited a moment, then went out and leaned over the banister rail. He heard Kit talking to Flo. He rested his thick arms on the banister rail and listened.

  Suddenly he heard the telephone bell ring. The sound sent a wave of hot blood up his spine. There was a delay, then he heard Kit say, ‘Iris has gone to bed. She has a headache.’ There was a pause, then she said, ‘She has a headache,’ and he heard the receiver drop back on its cradle.

  He drew in a long, slow breath of relief. That would be Travers. At least Iris hadn’t contacted him. But where was she?

  As he looked down the two flights of stairs into the hall, he suddenly saw Iris. She came
in silently, took off her coat and hung it on the hall rack, then slowly she began to mount the stairs.

  Calvin drew back. He listened. When he heard her enter her room, he moved quickly and quietly down the stairs and paused outside her door. He could hear Flo saying good night. He heard the click of the back door as Flo left. He still waited. He heard Kit begin to put the finishing touches to the dinner, then he gently turned the door handle and entered Iris’s room.

  Iris was standing, her back to him, looking out of the window. She glanced over her shoulder as he came in and she stiffened. She turned swiftly to face him.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, her voice shaky. He could see she had been crying. Her face was white and drawn. ‘I don’t want you in here!’

  He closed the door and leaned against it.

  ‘Have you made up your mind what you are going to do?’ he asked. ‘Kit knows. I told her. Our lives are in your hands. Are you going to help us?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Iris said. ‘I must talk to Kit. Please go away.’

  Calvin studied her, then he nodded.

  ‘Yes… you talk to her, but remember this: she’s as guilty as I am. Give me away and you give her away. Just remember that.’

  He went out of the room and back to his own room.

  At eight o’clock, the dinner bell sounded, and Calvin went downstairs. The meal was set on hot plates on the sideboard. Neither Iris nor Kit made an appearance. Calvin served the old couple, chatting to them, telling them that Iris had a headache, probably due to the change in her work, and all the time he talked, he listened for sounds that would tell him what was happening upstairs, but he heard nothing.

  In her room Kit took from the closet a bottle of whisky and poured herself a stiff drink. She drank the whisky, then poured another drink. She lit a cigarette and then moved to the armchair and sat down, still holding the bottle of whisky. As she began to relax and as she was deciding to have another drink, the door opened and Iris came in.

  CHAPTER SIX

  1