Up a Winding Stair

by Dixon, H. Vernor

  “Seems to me they could swim away from the rocks and out to sea.”

  “No. This is really bad water in here with all the pressure in against the headland. You can’t buck that surge. It isn’t so much just drowning. The surf, you see, crushes you and tears you to pieces against the rocks.” After a moment he added, “So watch your step.”

  Clark stepped a few feet inland to be on the safe side, but Hibbard remained where he was. He had turned around, with his back toward Clark, and was looking out to sea, a forlorn figure with sagging shoulders and bent head. Clark looked up and saw that Faye was bent over her camera, probably adjusting the lens. No one else about. His eyes swung back to Hibbard and suddenly they were as cold and violent as the sea below. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind and all the deep frustration he had been feeling that day, yet actually he was not really thinking. His brain was as cold and clear as ice.

  He stepped sideways and threw one foot in front of Hibbard’s ankles, placed a hand on his back, and straight-armed him out into space. A split second and it was accomplished. Hibbard made no sound. His arms flailed wildly in the air and he simply fell straight down. He hit the slight slope of the cliff with one shoulder, bounced off, and crashed into the turbulent water. Faye screamed at that point, but Clark did not look up. Hibbard had disappeared under the foam and water, but a moment later he was back on the surface and trying to swim. The ocean surged in and Hibbard was lifted on the big comber, swept down the channel, and smashed along the face of the far rock. He was no longer struggling. He went under again and was seen but once more, borne along on another comber against the rocks, and then he was gone.

  Clark turned and looked at Faye. She had dropped the camera to the ground and her arms were hanging loosely. Her jaw, too, was slack and loose, and her eyes were dull and empty. Then she suddenly stiffened, lifted her head, and started screaming as if she would never stop.

  Clark cried, “He slipped and fell. I tried to catch him, but I missed.”

  Then he thought of where they were and started running. A state park. Rangers. It would be best for him to be the one to bring the rangers. He ran past Faye, who was still screaming, on down the headland and under the great old trees and into the trail through the chaparral, and as he ran he started to laugh and was laughing so hard he fell to the ground and rolled there laughing until it came to an end and he could get back to his feet. He dusted off his clothes and ran on down the trail, no longer laughing.

  He was thinking of how easy it had been to solve everything. And as far as Hibbard was concerned — What the hell, he thought, I did him a favor.

  Chapter Eight

  HIBBARD’S BODY was found on the beach below the mouth of the Carmel River two days later. The sheriff’s office had searched the shoreline and the Coast Guard had combed the surrounding seas, but no one actually expected to find anything in those turbulent waters until the sea itself was willing to let go. The searching parties were vastly relieved when a young woman, scared out of her wits, stumbled across the body half buried in the sand. The surf and the rocks had exacted their toll. Faye had extreme difficulty making the necessary identification.

  Clark had worked along in many helpful ways with the deputies and had made himself rather well liked in the sheriff’s department. There was, however, one deputy by the name of Scott, a middle-aged, florid-faced individual who had once been connected with the homicide detail of the San Francisco police, who was not altogether satisfied with the explanation of the “accident.” He demanded and got a coroner’s inquest, which was held in the courtroom at Monterey.

  The inquest was brief and simple. Clark’s story, that he had been reluctant to go farther out on the point and had done so only to forestall an argument, was substantiated by Faye. She also verified the story of Hibbard’s slipping from the rocks: “I was standing about thirty feet away adjusting my camera and had a clear view of the two men. Mr. Holt and Mr. Hicks were out there together, but were really about five feet apart. Mr. Holt had moved a little farther away from the edge. When Hib — I mean, when Mr. Hicks slipped, Mr. Holt was not close enough to grab him.” Later she admitted, “No, I didn’t exactly see him slip, I was looking down at my camera, but there could have been no other reason for him to fall. The implication that he may have been pushed is thoroughly impossible. Of that I am positive. Mr. Holt was standing too far away from him.” Nothing could change that simple story, or Clark’s, and the coroner was annoyed by the time wasted. The verdict was also simple: accidental death caused by falling into the sea.

  Clark glanced toward Scott on his way out of the courtroom. The deputy was watching him and Faye with a narrowed, knowing look and a bland smile. Clark felt chilled, but then laughed at his sudden fear. The case was closed.

  He drove Faye to the Lodge in his car, a silent drive until they had passed through the hill gate. Faye sighed, took a black lace handkerchief from a black purse, and daubed at her dry eyes. She was also wearing a black dress and hat and veil, all products of a frenzied shopping tour that Faye had enjoyed to the full. The fact that she had had everyone’s undivided attention without even trying had been pleasant.

  But she cast her cow eyes at Clark and said, “What a shame, really. Right in the prime of his life.”

  Clark grunted, “Yeah.”

  “He was such a darling, actually. Like Daddy always used to say, a true gentleman. I can’t say that the world is a better place for his loss. It’s truly a great tragedy. I doubt if I will ever really get over it.” She frowned then and said thoughtfully, “I’ll have to get that camera fixed.”

  “Hmmmmm?”

  “The camera I had on the point that day. I dropped it and broke the shutter. One of my best, too. I’ll have to get it fixed.”

  “Oh, yes, that.”

  Clark parked the car in front of the Lodge, lifted his knee up on the seat so she couldn’t get too close to him, and asked, “What are your plans right now? I mean today.”

  “Oh, I thought maybe we’d have dinner here and then — ”

  He interrupted. “That’s what I thought. Look, you can’t do it that way. This isn’t your home. You live in San Francisco. You’re supposed to be in mourning.”

  She stared at him with amazement. “But of course I’m in mourning. Do you think I like wearing black?”

  “I know. I know. But you can’t hang around here. Hell’s bells, this is a resort area, a place to have fun. You stick out like a sore thumb in those widow’s weeds.”

  “Weeds!” she cried. “Just let me tell you how much — ”

  “Now, Faye, please. You know what I mean. The two of us — ”

  Her eyes softened and she whispered, “The two of us. Yes. I’ve been thinking, darling. I just couldn’t help myself. Maybe it was Providence that took a hand in our problems. I can’t help but think that, some ways. Providence. Now there is nothing in our way. Nothing. Is it horrible of me to say that? I don’t feel that it is. And I can’t help but think, can I?”

  “No, of course not. But things like that we have to keep to ourselves. I’ve been doing a little thinking, too. We can’t be seen together, at least for a while. You understand that.”

  She did, but she didn’t like it. She heaved a great sigh and said, “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I know I am. And it wouldn’t be proper for you to stay around here. The best thing is for you to go back home right now, today. There is nothing else to keep you here. I imagine, too, you’ll have a lot of legal affairs to wind up in the city.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Scads.”

  “That will keep you occupied.” Then he smiled and handed a piece of candy to baby. “Naturally, I don’t like thinking of you being alone during this trying time, so I’ll run up and see you the first moment I can get away.”

  She beamed at him. “You will, honestly?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I’m so glad. I have plenty of room, you know.”

  “Sure.”

&n
bsp; “Twenty-eight rooms, to be exact.”

  “What are you running, a hotel?”

  “Oh, no. But it’s an excellent location for an apartment house. I’ve had all kinds of offers. I don’t know, though. I kind of like the house.”

  “Sure, sure. Now, look. You run along.”

  She leaned over his knee and asked breathlessly, “Do you love me?”

  Clark looked nervously around, saw that they were unobserved, and nodded. “You know that.”

  “We’ve come through a terrible tragedy together, unmarred and unscarred. But it could have affected our love. I don’t think tragedy shares very well. But you do love me?”

  He swallowed and said, “I love you.”

  She closed her eyes, smiled blissfully, and got out of the car. Clark drove away immediately.

  Joey was waiting for Clark at home, in the living room. He had taken off his shoes and was stretched out full length on an oversize couch. Ever since the day of the picnic he had very little to say and had been unusually preoccupied. He watched Clark narrowly as he came into the room and paused before the couch. Clark looked at him, but did not quite catch his eyes.

  Joey propped himself up on an elbow and asked, “How’d it go?”

  Clark shrugged. “O.K.”

  “They have you on the stand?”

  “For a few minutes, yes. There wasn’t much to it.”

  “Accidental death?”

  Clark then looked sharply and coldly into his eyes. “What else?”

  “I was just askin’. Sometimes them coroners get queer ideas.”

  “Not this one.”

  “Yeah.” Joey dropped again to his back and clasped his hands behind his head. “Couple ugly things bein’ said around this place. I got a sniff of a rumor over in the caddy house just this mornin’.”

  “That so?”

  “You been seen around with Faye. And people say she wanted to dump this Hibbard but couldn’t. So it was very obligin’ of him to take a header off into that channel. That’s what I hear. So watch your step, kid.”

  Clark remembered when Hibbard had told him the same thing and looked away. “The case is closed, Joey.”

  “Yeah, yeah. That ain’t what I mean. I mean you could louse yourself up with the people here.”

  “I know that, so I made Faye go back to the city for a while. Otherwise, she’d be camping on my doorstep.”

  “You made up your mind about this one?”

  Clark stuck his hands in his pockets and paced back and forth on the floor before the couch. “That’s right. Cripes, I can’t keep going on this way year in and year out, always on the move, never sure of yourself, always knowing someday some sucker will blow his top and come running with a gun.”

  “It ain’t happened yet.”

  “But it can. Thompson was after my hide in L.A. No, thanks. I’ve had enough.”

  “You’re gonna marry her.”

  “Hell, yes! I’ll be set for life, Joey.”

  “You meana tell me you can spend your life with that cow?”

  “Don’t be a fool. Me, I’m going to be a milkman for a while. You have no idea how stupid that woman is. It’s incredible. And she’s crazy about me. So all I have to do is the milking. And you’re going to help.”

  Joey pushed himself up, then sat erect, finally interested. “Let’s hear it.”

  “All right. I know right now she’ll do anything I say. She has a certain animal caution, but if I work it right she’ll never be suspicious. The thing for us to do is set up a corporation of some kind, strictly legal, maybe in real estate. Then I get her to pour in as many dollars as I can talk out of her. We’ll even try to make a profit, if we can. But the big thing is that comes the day I walk out on her, under the community-property laws of this state, I will own fifty per cent of that corporation and will be able to cash it out for that.” He thought of it and grinned with satisfaction and winked at Joey. “Fifty per cent of a possible couple of million wouldn’t be bad, sweetheart.”

  Joey was impressed. “Yeah. Wouldn’t that be somethin’! But won’t it look phony if it’s all her dough?”

  “It won’t be all hers. That’s the beautiful part. You and I will put in money, too, just as much as we can. We’ll also take it out as often as we can and keep putting it back in. Keep it looking fluid, you see, buying, selling, investing, and keeping it moving all the time. Of course, it won’t be that simple — ”

  “Nothin’ is.”

  “ — but we can learn the gimmicks. What do you think?”

  Joey returned his grin. “Yeah. I didn’t know you’d been thinkin’ that far ahead. If you can get her to do it — ”

  “I’m sure of that.”

  “O.K. You got it made. I’ll go along.”

  “There’s one thing: It should be started right now. The company should be on record long before I marry her.”

  “I can see that. Smart timin’.”

  “I’ll find me an attorney tomorrow and start the ball rolling. You pass the word around that I’m interested in real-estate development here on the Peninsula, but only big tracts of land for building subdivisions. The bigger, the better. You know how to do that.”

  “Yeah. Confidentially. Gets around faster that way.”

  They laughed together and their old rapport was again solidly established.

  Clark got busy at once, conferred with a local attorney, and learned that a limited-partnership arrangement would be best for what he had in mind. He also learned, through sly, judicious questioning, that any investment Faye would make in the deal would have to be in the two names of Mr. and Mrs. Holt for him to share under the community-property laws of the state. He believed he could handle that without difficulty. Joey, too, was busy passing the word around that the wealthy Mr. Holt was interested in speculating in Peninsula properties. Real-estate people began telephoning and dropping by the house in an unending stream. Offerings of all sorts piled up on the library desk, and in no time at all it was widely known, or assumed, that Clark Holt was a heavy plunger about to sink millions in local property. His personal stock soared in the area and his credit, though unused, was almost unlimited.

  He had not seen Ione, but she called one night to tell him that she was going to the city the following morning on a shopping tour and asked if he would like to go along. He suggested that they fly up in his plane and she accepted. It was a raw, cold, windy day and the plane bounced and skipped about on the short flight. Because of heavy traffic, they were not able to get into the San Francisco field and had to land at the Oakland Airport across the bay. They took a taxi across the bridge and into the city, arriving in front of the St. Francis Hotel an hour-later than Ione had expected.

  “Not so good,” she said. “I have a lot of things to get for Mother, too. Now I’ll have to rush. I don’t think you’ll enjoy it very much.”

  Clark grinned at her. “You didn’t really think I intended going shopping with you, did you? I can’t stand tagging along with a woman while she’s bouncing from store to store.”

  “You sound experienced.”

  “Look. You run along and I’ll meet you in the lobby at five-thirty. How would that be?”

  “All right.”

  “Then we can have dinner somewhere here and fly on back.”

  “Thank you, sir. I was conniving for that.”

  She touched her cool fingertips to his cheek, then turned away to hurry down the street. He stayed where he was for a moment, watching the sway of her hips and the way the mink coat rippled about the beautiful lines of her body. He noticed, too, that more than one man’s head swiveled about to watch her progress. Then he got into a taxi and gave the driver Faye’s address.

  He had expected something larger than usual, so he was not at all surprised when he got out of the cab in front of Faye’s home on Pacific Street. It was a square brick building of three stories, with old-fashioned bay windows on the two lower floors, a semicircular driveway curving to the Georgetown entran
ce, and a lawn and small gardens in front and on the sides. It sat on a corner, otherwise surrounded by apartment houses, with the hill falling off steeply in back and a wonderful view of the Golden Gate, the bridge, and the Marin hills beyond. Clark could easily understand why it would be an extremely valuable piece of property for a large apartment building.

  The butler, who had been on the picnic, recognized him and ushered him in with a smile. The butler took his topcoat and hat, then led him through a large, overly furnished living room into a combination library and barroom. Three walls were crowded with books, but the fourth wall contained an elaborate bar, or rather two bars on either side of the fireplace, in which logs were smoldering. Though it had an old, musty odor and reeked of alcohol, it was a comfortable room and pleasant.

  When the butler left, Clark stood at a long library table and glanced idly through some magazines. His mind, however, was busy elsewhere, calculating the value of the land and wondering how to get it in his name.

  Faye took a rather long time coming down from upstairs, but when she did arrive she swept into the library as if going to a fire and threw herself into Clark’s arms. She smothered him with kisses and mumbled over and over, “My darling, darling boy.” She was wearing red silk hostess pajamas that were almost diaphanous, with a low V neck. She was also wearing a mass of bracelets on her arms, a scarf about her neck, and a tiny ribbon in her hair. Clark thought she looked like a burlesque queen between acts.

  She fixed a double drink for herself at the bar, though it was only eleven in the morning, then drew Clark down to her side on a deep leather couch.

  “It’s been simply ghastly,” she told him. “I’d no idea how many friends Hibbard had, poor soul, and all of them had to drop by and call on me. It’s been frightfully taxing on my nerves.”

  Clark commented dryly, “I can imagine.”

  “Then, too,” she sighed, “I always feel he’s about somewhere, though I’ve had every single possession of his removed from the house. It’s really amazing how much a person collects. I’d no idea.”