“I have it.”
“I’ll be waiting,” and I hung up.
I waited in the pay booth, smoking and sweating in the stuffy atmosphere for ten minutes. Then the bell rang and I lifted the receiver.
“Gilda?”
“Yes. What is all this, Terry? What is happening?”
“The insurance people are probing as I thought they would,” I said. “They don’t appear satisfied the way he died. We’ve got to be careful. I think they are watching you, Gilda. Now listen...”
“Terry! What are you talking about? Why should I care if they are watching me? I’ve done nothing to be ashamed of! You’re keeping something from me! I’ve had that feeling ever since he died. I must know what it is!”
“It’s just that we’ve got to be careful they don’t find out about us, Gilda... that’s all.”
“I must see you, Terry!”
“No! I have an idea they are watching you. If they see us together, it will be the give away. We can’t meet yet.”
“I’m going to see you, Terry! I’m going to see you tonight!”
“They may be watching you, Gilda,” I said. “If they see us together...”
“Where are you now?”
“The drugstore on Figuroa and Florence.”
“Wait for me outside. I’ll be along in the Buick in about an hour’s time.”
“But listen, Gilda...”
“Oh, it’ll be all right,” she said impatiently. “I’ll make sure no one is following me,” and she hung up.
It was a long wait.
A little before half-past seven, I left the drugstore and stood in the shadows. It was dark now. I wanted to go home, but I had an idea that if I didn’t meet her now, she would come to my cabin and I knew that could be fatal.
Ten minutes later, the Buick Estate Wagon edged to the kerb. I ran across, opened the door and slid in beside her. She forced the Buick back into the stream of traffic and drove on down the busy thoroughfare.
Neither of us said anything.
After a few moments, I looked back at the line of headlights behind us.
“No one is following us,” Gilda said. “I made sure.”
“They’re experts...”
“No one is following us!”
There was a curt snap to her voice I hadn’t heard before, and I looked quickly at her.
In the lights of the passing street lamps, she looked pale and her expression set. She stared ahead, driving well, moving the big car through the gaps in the traffic, her foot touching the gas pedal every now and then to shoot us forward, ahead of the car in front of us.
We drove like that for twenty minutes or so, then we were clear of Los Angeles and we were heading into the open country, along the fast highway.
Still we said nothing.
Another twenty minutes driving brought us to a side road. She pulled off the highway onto the road, accelerated, driving fast, climbing the steep hill, and then, in a few minutes, she pulled onto one of those laybys, constructed specially for courting couples or for tourists who wish to see Los Angeles from the heights.
As she set the parking brake, I looked back down the long, twisting road, but there was no sign of any car coming up, only the gleam of many headlights far below as the traffic pounded out of Los Angeles.
Gilda turned in the driving seat and looked directly at me.
“Why are you so frightened, Terry?”
“I’m not frightened,” I said carefully. “I’m anxious. This insurance claim was a mistake. The agent of the company has examined the set. He seems to think there is something suspicious about the claim.”
“Why should he think that?”
“Some business about it being difficult for your husband to have taken the back off the set. It doesn’t seem he could have reached the bottom fixing screws from his chair.”
“I told you: I am quite sure he didn’t take the tack off the set. It was something he would never do. It was you who said he did it.”
“Of course he took it off! When I got there, the back was off...”
“I think the best thing I can do,” she said, not looking at me, “is to tell Mr Macklin to withdraw the claim. I can manage without the money. I’ll sell everything. There should be just enough to settle his bills.”
I stiffened.
“You mustn’t withdraw the claim now!”
“Why not?”
“Once a claim is lodged, it has to go through, otherwise the insurance company will suspect fraud. They’ll think you have withdrawn the claim because you have lost your nerve. If you withdraw the claim now, they are certain to tell the Los Angeles police.”
“Why should I care if they tell the police? I’ve got nothing to hide!”
“But you have! They could find out about us!”
“And what if they do?”
I drew in a long, slow breath. I thrust my fists between my knees, squeezing them hard.
“We’ve been over all that before, Gilda. We have got to be careful.”
“Is that why you asked me to call you from a pay booth?”
“Yes. I don’t trust these insurance agents. They may have tapped your line.”
She swung around and stared at me, her eyes glittering.
“Tell me the truth!”
“What do you mean?”
“It wasn’t an accident, was it? You’ve been trying to cover up something. You’ve got to tell me!”
I started to say it was an accident, then I stopped. All of a sudden, I felt I couldn’t lie to her. I loved her. You can’t lie to a woman who means as much as Gilda meant to me. I knew it was a fatal thing to do, but I just couldn’t keep it to myself any longer.
“No, Gilda: it wasn’t an accident.” I began to shake. “I killed him.”
She caught her breath in a quick gasp and moved away from me.
“You killed him?”
“I must have been out of my mind,” I said. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you being tied to him for the rest of his days. I couldn’t bear the thought of you never being mine so long as he was alive — so I killed him.”
She sat motionless. I could hear her quick, uneven breathing.
“I did it because I love you, Gilda,” I said. “With any luck, they won’t find out I’m hoping in a few months we can go away and start a new life together.”
She hunched her shoulders as if she were feeling cold.
“How did you do it?”
I told her.
I didn’t hold anything back. I told her the whole sordid tale.
She sat in the corner of the car, her hands in her lap, motionless, staring out into the moonlit night, her big forget-me-not blue eyes wide and expressionless.
“If only that insurance claim hadn’t been put in,” I said, “I would have had nothing to worry about. But now... I don’t know. I think Harmas suspects something. That’s why we mustn’t see each other until the claim is settled.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Her voice was flat and cold.
“I want you to stick to the story you told Jefferson,” I said. “That’s all I want you to do. Harmas may question you. If he gets the slightest suspicion that we have been lovers, we shall be in trouble. We must keep away from each other until they have settled the claim.”
“You mean you will be in trouble, don’t you? If I tell them the truth, there is no trouble for me.”
She was right, of course, but I just looked at her, not saying anything.
“All right: I’ll lie for you. I’ll stick to the story.” She sat for several seconds staring through the windshield. Then she said quietly, “Would you mind walking back? You’ll be able to get a lift on the highway. I would rather go back alone.”
My heart gave a little lurch.
“This is not going to make any difference to your feelings for me, Gilda? I love you. I need you now more than ever before.”