The man went on: “You better let me show you how to put it on right while I’m here, so you’ll know how it goes when the time comes.”
Vera started to say something, but her voice was blurred out as though she had stuck her head into a bag.
Suddenly she came too close to the window, moved inadvertently within that narrow segment of the room that the far corners of Janet Miller’s eyes could encompass. Her whole head had vanished. If the paralytic had been capable of sound, she would have screamed. Vera had what looked like a horse’s feed bag up over her entire face. A nozzle protruded from this and went down somewhere out of sight. Two round gogglelike disks for eyes.
A gas mask!
She shifted further back into the room, out of sight again. Her voice sounded clearly once more. She must have taken it off. “Whew! Stuffy. Are you sure it’ll work? I’m not in this to take any chances myself, you know.”
“They’re made to stand much worse stuff than you’re going to get tonight.”
“Where’ll I keep them? I don’t want him to find them before I’m ready for them. I’m afraid if I take them up to the room with me he’ll—”
Janet Miller heard the clang of the oven door being opened, pushed closed again. “Here’s a place he’ll never look into in a million years. Supper’s all cooked. I can just warm it on top of the stove. He never bothers with the kitchen much. I’ll come down and get them the last thing, after he’s asleep. Take the paper out with you.”
More crackle of paper, this time being smoothed and folded small, to fit into someone’s pocket.
The man’s voice said: “That’s that. Now have you got everything straight? Put the spare on the old lady. Don’t cross me up on that. We’re just laying ourselves wide open if you let her go with him. Don’t put your own on ahead of time — he’s liable to wake up and see you wearing it. Hold out as long as you can before you get into it; it won’t hurt you to get a little of the stuff in you. Remember you’ve got an inhalator squad to buck afterwards.
“Get rid of all the papers and rags stuffed under the windows before they get here. And when you phone the alarm, don’t speak over the phone. Your voice is liable to sound too strong. Just knock the receiver off and leave it that way; that’ll bring ’em. It’ll take a little longer, but what’ve you got to lose? You’re in a fade-out on the floor near the door, just couldn’t make it. But the most important thing of all is the masks. If they’re found around here afterwards, we’re cooked. Take hers and yours off before they get here, when you’re sure he’s finished, and lock ’em both in the rumble seat of the car, out in the garage. You won’t be using it after he’s gone. You don’t even know how to drive. In a day or two you phone the Ajax Garage — that’s my place — to come and get it, take it off your hands, sell it for you. I’ll take them out at my end, return them as soon as I can. No one’ll ever know the difference.”
“How long’ll I give him? I’ve heard of them pulling people through after working over ’em an hour, sometimes more. We want to make sure that don’t happen.”
“Just see that he soaks up enough, and you can bet all the oxygen in the world won’t pull him through. Watch his face. When that gets good and blue, all mottled, you got nothing more to worry about. You better lie low for about a month afterwards. Give them a chance to settle up the estate and all that. I’ll give you a ring in — say thirty days from tonight. Are you sure everything’s shaped up right?”
“Yeah. He’s insured up to his ears. All his stock’s been bought in my name. The business has been doing pretty good, and there are no other relatives to horn in. We’ll be set for life, Jimmy darling. That’s why I held out against doing it any other way but this. There wouldn’t’ve been any sense to it.”
“Where’s the old lady?” he asked unexpectedly.
“On the back porch where she always is.”
“Hey, she can hear us, can’t she? Let’s get out of here!”
She laughed callously. “Suppose she does? What can she do? Who can she tell? She can’t talk, she can’t write, she can’t even make signs.”
They didn’t even bother looking out at her to see whether she was dozing or awake.
“All right,” was the last thing he said. “Don’t get frightened now. Just keep your head about you, and everything’ll pan out. See you in a month.” They exchanged a kiss. A blood-red kiss of death.
Then they went out of the kitchen, back into the living-room. They opened the side door of that, came out into the hall. The front door opened and closed again and Janet Miller was left alone in the house — with her knowledge and the potential murderess of her son.
Vernon Miller was a genial, easy-going, goodhearted, unsuspicious sort of man, the kind that so often draws a woman like Vera to be his life partner. He was no easy mark, no sap. He was wary enough in business, in the outside world of men and affairs could even be implacable, hard-boiled, if the occasion warranted. The trouble was, he let his defenses down in the wrong place — laid himself wide open in the home.
Janet Miller heard his key in the door. He said “Hello, there!” to the house in general. Vera came down the stairs, and Janet Miller heard them exchange a kiss. A Judas kiss.
Then he came on out to the back porch, to see her, and the third component of her trinity, the sound of his voice, was vouchsafed her.
“Did you enjoy the sun?”
Her eyes.
“Want me to take you in now?”
Her terrible eyes.
“Look what I brought you.”
Her eyes, her terrible imploring eyes.
“Did you miss me? Glad I’m back? Is that why you’re looking at me like that?” He squatted down to the level of the chair, cupped his hand to his knees. “What’re you trying to tell me, darling?”
Her eyes, her haunted eyes.
“Shall I try for you? Blink them once for no, twice for yes.” This was an old established code between them, their only link. “Are you hungry?” No. “Are you chilly?” No. “Are you—”
Vera called out from the kitchen, interrupted them as if guessing what Janet was trying to do: “Don’t stay out there all night, Vern. I’m all ready for you.”
Her eyes, her despairing eyes.
He straightened up, shifted around behind the chair, out of her sight, and rolled her into the living-room ahead of him. Left her there for a minute while he went upstairs.
Even her only weapon, the use of her eyes, was blunted, for they almost always followed him around a room, in and out of doors, even on other nights when they had no terrible message to deliver, so how could he be expected to tell the difference tonight?
Vera finished setting the table. “All right, Vern,” she called up.
He came down again, hands freshly washed, guided her chair into the dining room, pushed it close up beside Vera at the table, sat down opposite them. Vera was the one who always fed her.
He opened his napkin, looked down, began to spoon soup.
Vera broke the brief preliminary silence. “She won’t open her mouth.”
She was trying to force a spoonful through Janet Miller’s clenched teeth. Janet Miller had retained just enough muscular control of her jaws still to be able to close or slightly relax her mouth, sufficiently to take food. It was tightly shut now.
He looked over at her and she blinked at him. Singly, three times. No, no, no.
“Don’t you feel well? Don’t you want any?”
“She’s just being stubborn,” Vera said. “She was perfectly all right all day.”
Yes, I was, thought Janet Miller harrowingly, until you let death into my son’s house.
She kept trying to force the spoon through. Janet Miller resisted it. It tilted and the soup splashed off. “Now look at that!” she exclaimed short-temperedly.