“What do you mean?”
“Ray surprised me last night. He showed me a pair of airline tickets for Paris. We’re set to fly in ten days. Our passports are still in order from last year’s trip. I couldn’t stand another trip with him, dear. I couldn’t live through it.”
“Did you think about—”
“Yes, but this is no time to talk about it,” she said. “I think I can get away tonight.”
“Where and when?”
She named a time and place. When she placed the receiver back in its cradle she was surprised that her hand did not tremble. So easy, she thought. She was deciding a man’s fate, planning the end of a man’s life, and her hand was as steady as a surgeon’s. It astonished her that questions of life and death could be so easily resolved.
She was a few minutes late that night. Bruce was waiting for her in front of a tavern on Randolph Avenue. As she approached, he stepped forward and took her arm.
“We can’t talk here,” he said. “I don’t think we should chance being seen together. We can drive around. My car’s across the street.”
He took Claibourne Drive out to the east end of town. She lit a cigarette with the dashboard lighter and smoked in silence. He asked her what she had decided.
“I tried not to think about it,” she told him. “Then last night he sprang this jaunt on me, this European tour. He’s planning on spending three weeks over there. I don’t think I could endure it.”
“So?”
“Well, I got this wild idea. I thought about what you said, about — about killing him...”
“Yes?”
She drew a breath, let it out slowly. “I think you’re right. We have to kill him. I’d never rest if I knew he was after us. I’d wake up terrified in the middle of the night. I know I would. So would you.”
He didn’t say anything. His eyes were on hers and he clasped her hands.
“I guess I’m a worrier. I’d worry about the police, too. Even if we managed to do what you said, to buy our way out of extradition. The things you read, I don’t know. I’d hate to feel like a hunted animal for the rest of my life. I’d rather have the police hunting me than Ray, but even so, I don’t think I’d like it.”
“So?”
She lit another cigarette. “It’s probably silly,” she said. “I thought there might be a way to keep them from looking for you, and to get rid of him at the same time. Last night it occurred to me that you’re about his build. About six-one, aren’t you?”
“Just about.”
“That’s what I thought. You’re younger, and you’re much better looking than he is, but you’re both about the same height and weight. And I thought — Oh, this is silly!”
“Keep going.”
“Oh, this is the kind of crazy thing you see on television. I don’t know what kind of a mind I must have to think of it. But I thought that you could leave a note. You’d go to sleep at your house, then get up in the middle of the night and leave a long note explaining how you stole jewelry from your company and lost the money gambling and kept stealing more money and getting in deeper and deeper until there’s no way out. And that you’re doing the only thing you can do, that you’ve decided, well, to commit suicide.”
“I thing I’m beginning to get it.”
Her eyes lowered. “It doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
“It sure does. You’re about as crazy as a fox. Then we kill Ray and make it appear to be me.”
She nodded. “I thought of a way we could do it. I can’t believe it’s really me saying all of this! I thought we could do it that same night. You would come over to the house and I would let you in. We could get Ray in his sleep. Press a pillow over his face or something like that. I don’t know. Then we could load him into your car and drive somewhere and...”
“And put him over a cliff.” His eyes were filled with frank admiration. “Beautiful, just beautiful.”
“Do you really think so?”
“It couldn’t be better. They’ll have a perfect note, in my handwriting. They’ll have my car over a cliff and a burned body in it. And they’ll have a good motive for suicide. You’re a wonder, honey.”
She managed a smile. “Then your company won’t be hunting you, will they?”
“Not me or their money. Gambled every penny away — that’ll throw ’em a curve. I haven’t bet more than two bucks on a horse in my life. But your sweetheart of a husband will be gone, and somebody might start wondering where he is. Oh, wait a minute...”
“What?”
“This gets better the more I think about it. He’ll take my place in the car and I’ll take his on that plane to Europe. We’re the same build, his passport is in good order, and the reservations are all made. We’ll use those tickets to take the Grand Tour, except that we won’t come back. Or if we do, we’ll wind up in some other city where nobody knows us, baby. We’ll have every bridge burned the minute we cross over. When are you scheduled to take that trip?”
She closed her eyes, thought it through. “A week from Friday,” she said. “We fly to New York in the morning, and then on to Paris the next afternoon.”
“Perfect. You can expect company Thursday night. Slip downstairs after he goes to bed and let me into the house. I’ll have the note written. We’ll take care of him and go straight to the airport. We won’t even have to come back to the house.”
“The money?”
“I’ll have it with me. You can do your packing Thursday so we’ll have everything ready, passports and all.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I always knew you were wonderful, Marcia. I didn’t realize you were a genius.”
“You really think it will work?”
He kissed her and she clung to him. He kissed her again, then grinned down at her. “I don’t see how it can miss,” he said.
The days crawled. They couldn’t risk seeing each other until Thursday night, but Bruce assured Marcia that it wouldn’t be long.
But it was long. Although she found herself far calmer than she had dared to expect, Marcia was still anxious, nervous about the way it might go.
Oh, it was long, very long. Bruce called Wednesday afternoon to make final plans. They arranged a signaling system. When Ray was sleeping soundly, she would slip out of bed and go downstairs. She would dial his phone number. He would have the note written, the money stowed in the trunk of his car. As soon as she called he would drive over to her house, and she would be waiting downstairs to let him in.
“Don’t worry about what happens then,” he said. “I’ll take care of the details.”
That night and the following day consumed at least a month of subjective time for her. She called him, finally, at twenty minutes of three Friday morning. He answered at once.
“I thought you weren’t going to call at all,” he said.
“He was up late, but he’s asleep now.”
“I’ll be right over.”
She waited downstairs at the front door, heard his car pull to a stop, had the door open for him before he could knock. He stepped quickly inside and closed the door.
“All set,” he said. “The note, everything.”
“The money?”
“It’s in the trunk, in an attaché case, packed to the brim.”
“Fine,” she said. “It’s been fun, darling.”
But Bruce never heard the last sentence. Just as her lips framed the words, a form moved behind him and a leather-covered sap arced downward, catching him deftly and decisively behind the right ear. He fell like a stone and never made a sound.
Ray Danahy straightened up. “Out cold,” he said. “Neat and sweet. Take a look outside and check the traffic. This is no time for nosy neighbors.”