Double Indemnity

by James M. Cain

  I closed my eyes. I couldn't think of anything but Lola, a lot of cops around her, maybe beating her up, trying to make her spill something that she knew no more about than the man in the moon. Her face jumped in front of me and all of a sudden something hit it in the mouth, and it started to bleed.

  "Keyes."

  "Yeah?"

  "There was something. Now you speak of it."

  "I'm listening boy."

  "I killed Nirdlinger."

  Chapter 13

  He sat there staring at me. I had told him everything he needed to know, even about Lola. It seemed funny it had only taken about ten minutes. Then he got up. I grabbed him.

  "Keyes."

  "I've got to go, Huff."

  "See that they don't beat her."

  "I've got to go now. I'll be back after a while."

  "Keyes, if you let them beat her, I'll—kill you. You've got it all now. I've told you, and I've told you for one reason and one reason only. It's so they won't beat her. You've got to promise me that. You owe me that much. Keyes—"

  He shook my hand off and left.

  While I was telling him I hoped for some kind of peace when I got done. It had been bottled up in me a long time. I had been sleeping with it, dreaming about it, breathing with it. I didn't get any peace. The only thing I could think of was Lola, and how she was going to find out about it at last, and knew me for what I was.

  ***

  About three o'clock the orderly came in with the afternoon papers. They didn't have any of what I had told Keyes. But they had been digging into their files, after the morning story, and they had it about the first Mrs. Nirdlinger's death, and Nirdlinger's death, and now me being shot. A woman feature writer had got in out there and talked with Phyllis. It was she that called it the House of Death, and put in about those blood-red drapes. Once I saw that stuff I knew it wouldn't be long. That meant even a dumb cluck of a woman reporter could see there was something funny out there.

  It was half past eight that night before Keyes came back. He shooed out the nurse as soon as he came in the room, and then went out a minute. When he came back he had Norton with him, and a man named Keswick that was a corporation lawyer they called in on big cases, and Shapiro, the regular head of the legal department. They all stood around, and it was Norton that started to speak. "Huff."

  "Yes sir."

  "Have you told anybody about this?"

  "Nobody but Keyes."

  "Nobody else?"

  "Not a soul...God, no."

  "There have been no policemen here?"

  "They've been here. I saw them out in the hall. I guess it was me they were whispering about. The nurse wouldn't let them in."

  They all looked at each other. "Then I guess we can begin. Keyes, perhaps you had better explain it to him."

  Keyes opened his mouth to say something, but Keswick shut him up, and got Norton into a corner. Then they called Keyes over. Then they called Shapiro. I could catch a word, now and then. It was some kind of a proposition they were going to make me, and it was a question of whether they were all going to be witnesses. Keswick was for the proposition, but he didn't want anybody to be able to say he had been in on it. They finally settled it that Keyes would make it on his own personal responsibility, and the rest of them wouldn't be there. Then they all tip-toed out. They didn't even say good-bye. It was funny. They didn't act like I had played them or the company any particularly dirty trick. They acted like I was some kind of an animal that had an awful sore on his face, and they didn't even want to look at it.

  After they left Keyes sat down. "This is an awful thing you've done, Huff."

  "I know it."

  "I guess there's no need my saying more about that part."

  "No, no need."

  "I'm sorry. I've—kind of liked you, Huff."

  "I know. Same here."

  "I don't often like somebody. At my trade, you can't afford to. The whole human race looks—a little bit crooked."

  "I know. You trusted me, and I let you down."

  "Well—we won't talk about it."

  "There's nothing to say...Did you see her?"

  "Yes. I saw them all. Him, her, and the wife."

  "What did she say?"

  "Nothing...I didn't tell her, you see. I let her do the talking. She thinks Sachetti shot you."

  "For what?"

  "Jealousy."

  "Oh."

  "She's upset about you. But when she found out you weren't badly hurt, she—. Well, she—"

  "—Was glad of it."

  "In a way. She tried not to be. But she felt that it proved Sachetti loved her. She couldn't help it."

  "I see."

  "She was worried about you, though. She likes you."

  "Yeah, I know. She...likes me."

  "She was following you. She thought you were him. That was all there was to that."

  "I figured that out."

  "I talked to him."

  "Oh yeah, you told me. What was he doing there?"

  He did some more of his pounding around then. The night light over my head was the only light in the room. I could only half see him, but I could feel the bed shake when he marched.

  "Huff, there's a story."

  "Yeah? How do you mean?"

  "You just got yourself tangled up with an Irrawaddy cobra, that's all. That woman—it makes my blood run cold just to think of her. She's a pathological case, that's all. The worst I ever heard of."

  "A what?"

  "They've got a name for it. You ought to read more of this modern psychology, Huff. I do. I wouldn't tell Norton. He'd think I was going high-brow or something. I find it helpful though. There's plenty of stuff in my field where it's the only thing that explains what they do. It's depressing, but it clears up things."

  "I still don't get it."

  "You will...Sachetti wasn't in love with her."

  "No?"

  "He's known her. Five or six years. His father was a doctor. He had a sanatorium up in the Verdugo Hills about a quarter mile from this place where she was head nurse."

  "Oh yeah. I remember about that."

  "Sachetti met her up there. Then one time the old man had some tough luck. Three children died on him."

  The old creepy feeling began to go up my back. He went on. "They died of—"

  "—Pneumonia."

  "You heard about it?"

  "No. Go on."

  "Oh. You heard about the Arrowhead business."

  "Yes."

  "They died on him, and there was an awful time and the old man took the rap for it. Not with the police. They didn't find anything to concern them. But with the Department of Health and his clientele. It ruined him. He had to sell his place. Not long after that he died."

  "Pneumonia?"

  "No. He was quite old. But Sachetti thought there was something funny about it, and he couldn't shake it out of his mind about this woman. She was over there too much, and she seemed to take too much interest in the children up there. He had nothing to go on, except some kind of a hunch. You follow me?"

  "Go on."

  "He never did anything about it till the first Mrs. Nirdlinger died. It happened that one of those children was related to that Mrs. Nirdlinger, in such fashion that when that child died, Mrs. Nirdlinger became executrix for quite a lot of property the child was due to inherit. In fact, as soon as the legal end was cleared up, Mrs. Nirdlinger came into the property herself. Get that, Huff. That's the awful part. Just one of those children was mixed up with property."

  "How about the other two?"

  "Nothing. Those two children died just to cover the trail up a little. Think of that, Huff. This woman would even kill two extra children, just to get the one child that she wanted, and mix things up so it would look like one of those cases of negligence they sometimes have in those hospitals. I tell you, she's a pathological case."

  "Go on."

  "When the first Mrs. Nirdlinger died, Sachetti elected himself a one-man detect
ive agency to find out what it was all about. He wanted to clear his father for one thing, and the woman had become an obsession with him for another thing. I don't mean he fell for her. I mean he just had to know the truth about her."

  "Yeah, I can see that."

  "He kept up his work at the university, as well as he could, and then he made a chance to get in there, and talk with her. He already knew her, so when he went up there with some kind of a proposition to join a physicians'-and-nurses' association that was being formed, he figured she wouldn't think anything of it. But then something happened. He met this girl, and it was a case of love at first sight, and then his fine scheme to get at the truth about the wife went on the rocks. He didn't want to make the girl unhappy, and he really had nothing to go on, so he called it off. He didn't want to go to the house after what he suspected about the wife, so he began meeting the girl outside. Just one little thing happened, though, to make him think that maybe he had been right. The wife, as soon as she found out what was going on, began telling Lola cock-eyed stories about him, and got the father to forbid Lola to see him. There was no reason for that, except that maybe this woman didn't want anything named Sachetti within a mile of her, after what happened. Do you follow this?"

  "I follow it."

  "Then Nirdlinger got it. And suddenly Sachetti knew he had to go after this woman to mean it. He quit seeing Lola. He didn't even tell her why. He went up to this woman and began making love to her, as hard as he knew. That is, almost as hard as he knew. He figured, if it was her he was coming to see, she'd not forbid him to come, not at all. You see, she was Lola's guardian. But if Lola got married, the husband would be the guardian, and that would mix it all up on the property. You see—"

  "Lola was next."

  "That's it. After she got you out of the way for what you knew about her, Lola was next. Of course at this time Sachetti didn't know anything about you, but he did know about Lola, or was pretty sure he knew."

  "Go on."

  "That brings us down to last night. Lola followed him. That is, she followed his car when you took it. She was turning into the parking lot when you pulled out."

  "I saw the car."

  "Sachetti went home early. The wife chased him out. He went to his room and started to go to bed, but he couldn't shake it out of his mind that something was going on that night.

  For one thing, being chased out looked funny. For another thing, the wife had asked him earlier in the day a couple of things about Griffith Park, when they closed the roads down there for the night, and which roads they closed—things that could only mean she had something cooking in that park late at night sometime, he didn't know when. So instead of going to bed, he decided to go up to her house and keep an eye on her. He went out to get his car. When he found it gone, he almost fainted, because Lola had a key to it. Don't forget, he knew Lola was next."

  "Go on."

  "He grabbed a cab and went down to Griffith Park. He began walking around blind—he didn't have any idea what was up, or even when to look. He started at the wrong place—at the far end of the little glade. Then he heard the shot. He ran over, and he and Lola got to you about the same time. He thought Lola was shot. She thought he was shot. When Lola saw who it was, she thought Sachetti shot him, and she was putting on an act about it when the police got there."

  "I get it now."

  "That woman, that wife, is an out-and-out lunatic. Sachetti told me he found five cases, all before the three little children, where patients died under her while she was a nurse, two of them where she got property out of it."

  "All of pneumonia?"

  "Three. The older two were operative cases."

  "How did she do it?"

  "Sachetti never found out. He thinks she found out some way to do it with the serum, combining with another drug. He wishes he could get it out of her. He thinks it would be important."

  "Well?"

  "You're sunk, Huff."

  "I know it."

  "We had it out this afternoon. Down at the company. I had the whip hand. There was no two ways about it. I called it long ago, even when Norton was still talking suicide."

  "You did that all right."

  "I persuaded them the case ought never to come to trial."

  "You can't hush it up."

  "We can't hush it up, we know that. But having it come out that an agent of this company committed murder is one thing. Having it plastered all over every paper in the country for the two weeks of a murder trial is something else."

  "I see."

  "You're to give me a statement. You're to give me a statement setting forth every detail of what you did, and have a notary attest it. You're to mail it to me, registered. You're to do that Thursday of next week, so I get it Friday."

  "Next Thursday."

  "That's right. In the meantime, we hold everything, about this last shooting, I mean, because you're in no condition to testify at a hearing. Now get this. There'll be a reservation for you, under a name I'll give you, on a steamer leaving San Pedro Thursday night for Balboa and points south. You take that steamer. Friday I get a statement and at once turn it over to the police. That's the first I knew about it. That's why Norton and his friends left just now. There's no witnesses to this. It's a deal between you and me, and if you ever try to call it on me I'll deny it, and I'll prove there was no such deal. I've taken care of that."

  "I won't try."

  "As soon as we notify the police, we post a reward for your capture. And listen, Huff, if you're ever caught, that reward will be paid, and you'll be tried, and if there's any way we can help it along, you're going to be hung. We don't want it brought to trail, but if it is brought to trial, we're going through with it to the hilt. Have you got that?"

  "I've got it."

  "Before you get on that boat, you'll have to hand to me the registry receipt for that statement. I've got to know I've got it."

  "What about her?"

  "Who?"

  "Phyllis?"

  "I've taken care of her."

  "There's just one thing, Keyes."

  "What is it?"

  "I still don't know about that girl, Lola. You say you hold everything. I guess that means you hold her and Sachetti, pending the hearing. The hearing that's not going to be held. Well, listen. I've got to know no harm comes to her. I've got to have your solemn word on that, or you'll get no statement, and the case will come to trial, and all the rest of it. I'll blow the whole ship out of water. Do you get that, Keyes? What about her?"

  "We hold Sachetti. He's consented to it."

  "Did you hear me? What about her?"

  "She's out."

  "She's—what?"

  "We bailed her out. It's a bailable offense. You didn't die, you see."

  "Does she know about me?"

  "No. I told you I told her nothing."

  He got up, looked at his watch, and tip-toed out in the hall. I closed my eyes. Then I felt somebody near me. I opened my eyes again. It was Lola.

  "Walter."

  "Yes. Hello, Lola."

  "I'm terribly sorry."

  "I'm all right."

  "I didn't know Nino knew about us. He must have found out. He didn't mean anything. But he's—hot-tempered."

  "You love him?"

  "...Yes."

  "I just wanted to know."

  "I'm sorry that you feel as you do."

  "It's all right."

  "Can I ask something? That I haven't any right to ask?"

  "What is it?"

  "That you do not prosecute. That you not appear against him. You don't have to, do you?"

  "I won't."

  "...Sometimes I almost love you, Walter."

  She sat looking at me, and all of a sudden she leaned over close. I turned my head away, quick. She looked hurt and sat there a long time. I didn't look at her. Some kind of peace came to me then at last. I knew I couldn't have her and never could have had her. I couldn't kiss the girl whose father I killed.

  W
hen she was at the door I said good-bye and wished her good luck, and then Keyes came back.

  "O.K. on the statement, Keyes."

  "It's the best way."

  "O.K. on everything. Thanks."

  "Don't thank me."

  "I feel that way."

  "You've got no reason to thank me." A funny look came in his eyes. "I don't think they're going to catch up with you, Huff. I think—well maybe I'm doing you a favor at that. Maybe you'd rather have it that way."

  Chapter 14

  What you've just read, if you've read it, is the statement. It took me five days to write it, but at last, on Thursday afternoon, I got it done. That was yesterday. I sent it out by the orderly to be registered, and around five o'clock Keyes dropped by for the receipt. It'll be more than he bargained for, but I wanted to put it all down. Maybe she'll see it some time, and not think so bad of me after she understands how it all was. Around seven o'clock I put on my clothes. I was weak, but I could walk. After a bite to eat I sent for a taxi and went down to the pier. I went to bed right away, and stayed there till early this afternoon. Then I couldn't stand it any longer, alone there in the stateroom, and went up on deck. I found my chair and sat there looking at the coast of Mexico, where we were going past it. But I had a funny feeling I wasn't going anywhere. I kept thinking about Keyes, and the look he had in his eye that day, and what he meant by what he said. Then, all of a sudden, I found out. I heard a little gasp beside me. Before I even looked I knew who it was. I turned to the next chair. It was Phyllis.

  "You."

  "Hello, Phyllis."

  "Your man Keyes—he's quite a matchmaker."

  "Oh yeah. He's romantic."

  I looked her over. Her face was drawn from the last time I had seen her, and there were little puckers around her eyes. She handed me something.

  "Did you see it?"

  "What is it?"

  "The ship's paper."

  "No, I didn't. I guess I'm not interested."