If he hadn’t removed the back of the set, he could not have electrocuted himself!
Here was my fatal slip!
My perfect murder plan had blown up in my face!
II
For a long, agonizing moment, I sat motionless, staring at the bottom screws. I knew Harmas was watching me. I realized he had been smart enough to have seen the screws were out of reach of anyone sitting in that big wheeled chair.
I had to do something.
I edged myself forward, and, by getting my feet off the footrest of the chair, onto the floor, I could just reach the screws by bending right forward. As I began to undo them, Harmas said sharply, “Hold it!”
The note in his voice sent a chill crawling up my spine, but I had myself under control. I looked over my shoulder at him.
He was on his feet and he was staring at the set.
“This is interesting,” he said. “Delaney was paralysed from the waist down. He couldn’t have reached those two screws.”
“Why not?”
“Look at the way you’re sitting. A paralysed man couldn’t sit like that.”
“He must have done,” I said, my voice was husky.
I was cursing myself for being such a fool as to put the lower two fixing screws in such a position, and not realizing that Delaney couldn’t have reached them. When I had taken the back off the set I had squatted down in front of the set: the only practical way of getting at the screws.
“Well, if he did take them out, he must have had arms like a gorilla,” Harmas said. “Here, let me have a try. Let me sit in the chair.”
I got up and stood back and watched him sit in the chair and try to reach the screws. It was only when he was right on the edge of the chair, his feet off the foot rest and leaning well forward that he could get at them.
He sat in the chair, brooding for some moments, then he said, “If I remember rightly, Delaney got the screwdriver from a storeroom somewhere. Do you know where the storeroom is?”
“Down the passage: first door on the right.”
“Let’s take a look.”
Remaining in the chair, he propelled himself out of the lounge, down the passage to the storeroom door. He opened the door and manoeuvred himself and the chair inside.
I stood watching him, thinking what a stupid fool I had been to imagine I had dreamed up the perfect murder plan!
“Where’s the toolbox kept?”
“Up on the top shelf. Delaney hooked it down with a walking stick. I found the tools on the floor.”
“Where’s the stick?”
I gave him the stick with its hooked handle.
He reached up, got the hook over the side of the toolbox and tipped the box off the shelf. It came down with a clatter, spilling the tools all over the floor.
He leaned forward to pick up the screwdriver, but he wasn’t within reaching distance of it. The chair, with its high wheels, made it impossible for him to pick up the tool.
He looked at me.
“You know this guy must have had indiarubber arms.”
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. To cover up, I lit a cigarette. I waited for his next move.
He got out of the chair and pushed it back into the lounge, humming gently under his breath.
I followed him and I felt pretty bad.
He sat down in one of the lounging chairs.
“I’d like to get the scene fixed in my mind,” he said. “You found him. When you walked into the room — what did you see?”
“The chair was within a few feet of the TV set and he was lying face down on the floor in front of the set. There was this screwdriver by his hand.”
“So he had fallen out of the chair onto the floor?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
“I saw the back was off the set, and I realized he had electrocuted himself. I pulled the mains plug out and then examined him to see if there was anything I could do to help him, but he was dead.”
“How did you know that?”
“He was turning stiff and he was cold.”
“You’re sure he was cold?”
“Yes: that’s how I knew he was dead.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I called Sheriff Jefferson and he came out with Doc Mallard. Doc said Delaney had died around nine fifteen.”
“He judged that from the rigor and the temperature of the body?”
“I guess so!”
“Okay.” He got to his feet. “I guess I’ve seen all I want here for the moment. Leave the set as it is, will you? I’ll want to take another look at it.” He walked over to the window and stared at the view. “It’s a damn funny thing, but Maddox never seems to be wrong. There’s something about this setup that doesn’t jell. You can see that for yourself. That guy, Maddox! Come the time when I prove him wrong!”
I didn’t say anything. My heart was beating sluggishly, and I felt scared.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to poke around a little.” He held out his hand. “I’ll be seeing you. Where can I contact you?”
I gave him my telephone number and watched him write it down on the back of an envelope.
I said, “You think there’s something wrong with the claim?”
He grinned cheerfully at me.
“You think about it. You know as much as I do. The guy was paralysed. He couldn’t have reached those screws. He couldn’t have picked up that screwdriver. He was stone cold when you found him, and yet he had been dead only for three hours on a hot day, after getting a boosted electric shock through him. He had taken out an insurance policy a few days before he died. By dying the way he did, his wife cashed in for five thousand bucks. Maybe it all happened the way it seems to have happened. I don’t know.” He tapped me gently on my chest. “We guys in the insurance racket are suspicious of anything that doesn’t jell. I’m going to dig around and see if I can find anything else that doesn’t jell. Then I’ll know if this claim is a phoney or not. Maybe I’m wasting my time, but ^ that’s what I’m getting paid for. Be seeing you,” and nodding, he walked down to his smart, sleek Packard.
I watched him drive away, then slowly I walked back into the lounge.
This was a bad start, I told myself, but it didn’t mean he could prove Delaney had been murdered. He would have to go a long way before he proved that. My plan hadn’t been one hundred per. cent foolproof, but at least, it hadn’t entirely come apart.
I sat for some minutes, smoking and thinking.
I saw that much depended on Harmas not finding out that Gilda and I were lovers. If he found that out, he would have the motive: the wife, the crippled husband, the lover and five thousand dollars of insurance money. It was the perfect setup for murder.
I had to warn Gilda again to stick to the story I had given her: that she had gone down to Glyn Camp, that, on the way, she had had a flat, and she had been delayed while she had changed the tyre.
I decided I would go down to Los Angeles and call her from a pay booth.
I drove into Los Angeles soon after four o’clock. I went to a pay booth and rang her number, but there was no answer. I guessed she was out looking for a job. I hung around, killing time and I kept ringing the number. It wasn’t until nearly seven that I got an answer.
I wasn’t taking any chances. For all I knew they might have already tapped her line.
“Gilda: don’t mention my name,” I said. “Listen carefully, I’m calling from a pay booth. The number is 55781. I want you to go out to a pay booth and call this number. I’ll be waiting. It’s urgent.”
“But why can’t we talk now?”
“Not on your line. Please hurry. Have you the number?”