Six Against the Yard Page 10

  ‘To congratulate you. You’re the first man that’s ever slugged me, and I never thought any man would ever have the guts. Congratulations, Eddie. And I apologise for doubting you.’

  ‘For doing what?’ I said. I was feeling a bit nuts. I couldn’t figure out what the hell Myrtle was doing.

  ‘For doubting you, my good man,’ she shouted. ‘Can’t you understand English?’

  ‘Not like the way you English talk it,’ I said.

  ‘Well, tell me this. Did you mean what you said when you asked me to marry you last night, or were you too damned drunk to know what you were saying? That’s a straight question, and I’d be obliged for a straight answer.’

  I stared at her. I’d thought at first I must be nuts; now I thought she must be.

  She took off her hat and slung it on to a chair, and gave a sort of hitch with her elbows to her skirt. I made sure she was going to slug me.

  ‘Well?’ she said.

  ‘Sure I meant it,’ I said hastily, before she could clip me.

  ‘Do you love me?’ she asked, and made a sort of movement with her feet. Her Oxfords looked bigger than ever.

  ‘Of course I love you, Myrtle,’ I said quickly. I thought she meant to let out at my shins any minute.

  ‘Then it’s all on again,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry I doubted you, Eddie. I sent a cable yesterday to ask about your ranch, and I’ve just had the answer. I thought you were a crook, and I find you’re only a mutt, or whatever you call a dumbbell in your language. I think I’d better marry you before you do something sillier still. You’re quite sure you didn’t want to marry me for my money, Eddie?’

  ‘Aw, hell! Forget it,’ I told her.

  ‘Very well, I will. And you’d better forget all I told you yesterday morning. I thought you were a crook pumping me, so I stuffed you up with a lot of nonsense. I haven’t got any money.’

  ‘Sure you haven’t,’ I said. I’d seen the wise look she shot at me and knew she was just trying me out. ‘What the hell? I’ve got plenty for two.’

  ‘Good!’ said Myrtle, kind of briskly. ‘Then stop looking as if you were trying to whistle and get up and kiss me, even if it hurts.’

  Well, I didn’t care which of us was nuts. I go up and clinched with her. I know a break when I see it.

  III

  So that’s how Myrtle and I got fixed up.

  You can bet I didn’t waste any time. Myrtle didn’t seem to want to waste any either. She was a quick worker, too. I will say that for Myrtle. The cable had put her properly to rights, and she was sure now I was a swell rancher and couldn’t be after her dough. So she put me wise about the special licences and all those fool things you have to have over here when you want to get spliced in a hurry, and in three days Myrtle Frumm was Mrs. Eddie Tuffun.

  And was she pleased? Well, it seemed like she was pretty near as pleased as me, and that’s saying plenty. I lent her a couple of hundred bucks in advance of the contract to fix her trousseau and told her she needn’t pay it back either, and that finished her. She knew I must be on the level to do that. I’d figured that was just how she would feel.

  I didn’t have to press her either. She was still pulling her stuff about being so darned poor you’d think she hardly knew where her next bucket of champagne was coming from.

  ‘You shall never say I married you under false pretences, Eddie,’ she’d say. ‘I know they attach a lot of importance to money in your country.’

  ‘That’s all right, Myrtle,’ I’d tell her. ‘I’ve got plenty for two.’

  ‘You’ll need it,’ she’d answer. ‘I’ve got extravagant tastes, like staying in first-class hotels; and I warn you that I’m going to gratify them.’

  ‘You’ll gratify ’em, all right, Baby,’ I’d say.

  ‘I’ve told you before not to call me ‘Baby,’’ she’d snap out on me. ‘It sounds ridiculous.’ Then she’d go on to tell me about her house and gardens, and what alterations she was going to make with my dough.

  I had a job not to smile. The way she talked you’d have thought it was a four-room bungalow, with a hired girl to do the work. Only she’d let out it was in London, and they don’t have bungalows in London. I wasn’t so green as all that.

  Anyways, it made one thing easy. On the morning we were spliced we went to see an attorney and made new wills. Only a couple of dozen words, leaving everything to each other.

  Myrtle never stalled at the idea. ‘My dear man, of course,’ she said, when I kind of delicately suggested it. ‘You needn’t beat about the bush. I should expect it in any case. As for my few sticks, you’re welcome to them; but I’m certainly not going to lose that ranch of yours the first time you get in the way of a motor-bus.’ That was Myrtle all over. She certainly had a raw way of putting things.

  You’d think that after I’d got things all fixed like that the way I wanted them, I’d be feeling pretty good. But I don’t know. Every time I had to kiss Myrtle, it seemed to get kind of harder. I tried good and plenty to give her the works as if I meant it, and it seemed like she couldn’t tell the difference. I guess she couldn’t too, at that. So I got away with it all right.

  But I don’t know. On the morning we were to get married, before we went to the attorney’s, I began to wish I hadn’t hit on the racket at all. I looked round my bedroom, with its narrow bed, and it didn’t seem as if living with Myrtle was going to be worth all the dough in the world. I threw a couple of drinks into me and it wasn’t so bad. I began feeling pretty high. I thought maybe I could get her dough into my own name, and then we could live apart. I’d give her a pretty good alimony too. It would be worth it.

  Well, anyways, we got the wills signed and left them with the attorney for safe keeping. And then we got married. That was all there was about it. One minute we were married, the minute before we weren’t. I felt like I was in a dream.

  When we came out of the marriage office we looked at each other.

  ‘What you say we have a drink, Myrtle?’ I said.

  ‘You look as if you needed one,’ said Myrtle.

  We went back to her rooms and had a couple of slugs. That made me feel better, and I managed to kiss Myrtle kind of fierce, like they enjoy it.

  I might have known Myrtle would be different. ‘Cut out the rough stuff, Eddie,’ she said. ‘You’ve socked me once, my lad, and that’s going to last you for the rest of your life. If there’s any more socking to be done, I’ll do it.’

  Well, that made me feel a bit sore, so when Myrtle told me to get busy and help her pack her things I was all set for trouble.

  ‘Pack your things hell,’ I said. ‘What do you want to pack your things for? We’re staying right here.’

  ‘Nothing of the sort,’ she said. ‘What do you imagine? We’re going on our honeymoon.’

  ‘Honeymoon hell,’ I said. ‘We’re staying right here. I’ve brought my grips, haven’t I?’

  Well, would you believe it but Myrtle just took no notice at all. She just went on packing.

  ‘Take it easy, baby,’ I said. ‘Take it easy, can’t you? What’s the big idea, anyways?’

  She looked up for a minute. ‘I told you. We’re going on our honeymoon. We’re going to Slocum-on-the-Marsh. I’ve written for rooms there. We’re catching the three-ten train. I’ve ordered the taxi.—Now, then, Eddie, put that bottle down. You’ve had quite enough to drink already, and you know you can’t carry your liquor. I’m not going to arrive at Slocum with a drunk husband.’

  I threw the bottle at the fireplace, and it broke. It was a waste of good liquor, but I felt that way.

  ‘And I’m not going to arrive at Slocum at all,’ I told her, and I didn’t whisper it either.

  From the way Myrtle acted, you’d have said she hadn’t even heard.

  Hell, what’s the use? We went to Slocum.

  There were twenty-seven people in Slocum while we were there, and twenty-six of them were dead. The twenty-seventh was Myrtle.

  By the time our honeymoon was o
ver there were twenty-eight dead, because I was dead three times over. Myrtle liked walking. There wasn’t any need to walk, because there was nothing to see but more marsh after you’d walked there; but that didn’t matter to Myrtle. And it wasn’t any use to say I’d got a sore heel, because … oh, hell.

  The only ten minutes I enjoyed out of our fortnight at Slocum was when a guy beat me up for making a pass at him. He looked like he weighed about thirty pounds more than me and it was all muscle. He pretty near banged my head off. For the finish he knocked me ten feet into the marsh. Then he pulled me out, just to knock me in again. It was swell.

  But Myrtle didn’t like me fighting, and I’d figured out already that I’d got to do what she wanted for a while at any rate; and that stood for not doing what she didn’t want.

  The trouble was that doing what Myrtle wanted and not doing what she didn’t want, seemed like there wasn’t going to be room in my life for anything else. When I could give Myrtle the slip, I used to go and sit in the marsh and think about it. It looked like hell then, being ordered around by a fat dame for the rest of my life. I couldn’t figure out where I’d slipped up, either. Maybe I hadn’t had a break at all, or maybe the racket had been lousy from the start.

  Then I’d go back to the bar and have three-four drinks, and it didn’t look so bad after all. I’d gone out after the dough, and I’d got it. That was the big idea. I saw then that I’d had a lucky break. It was just I didn’t know how to handle it. I’d be able to fix Myrtle to rights when I was ready. I just wasn’t ready yet, that was all.

  I didn’t like to ask Myrtle much more about her mansion and grounds (they call a big house a mansion over here). She acted kind of queer sometimes when I did. I saw she’d got the economy-bug like lots of these rich guys. You have to be awful rich before you begin to worry over spending a couple of dimes. I’ve seen rich guys that way before. So I just pretended to agree with Myrtle when she kept saying we must economise, and thought what I’d do with her dough once I’d got my hooks on it.

  I thought a good bit about Myrtle’s mansion, too. I betted it was swell. I betted she had a butler too at that. I even worried whether I’d have to say ‘whisky and soda’ to him instead of ‘highball’ every time I wanted a drink. By the day we were to leave Slocum and go to the mansion I was like a jazz-drummer in a Harlem speakeasy on Thanksgiving Night. Well, a guy doesn’t step into a mansion of his own and order his own butler to bring him a couple of highballs (and make it snappy) for the first time every day of his life, does he? I’ll say he doesn’t.

  Well we got away from Slocum, and was I glad to see the end of that place? Myrtle told me to fix our bill, and I still had a good few bucks left to buy the tickets to London. I figured I’d better go on handing them out till we were safe in the mansion. After that it wouldn’t matter.

  At London Myrtle gave the address to the taxi-driver, and I followed her in so quick you might have thought I was afraid of being left behind. Myrtle took up plenty of room on the seat, but I crowded her a bit more still. I took her hand too. I guess I came pretty near to being fond of Myrtle just then.

  ‘Ah,’ she said, leaning back, ‘this is nice, Eddie. It isn’t often I drive home in a taxi.’

  ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Taxis run you to a lot of dough.’

  ‘A really good hotel once a year, that’s my only weakness,’ said Myrtle, sounding sort of pleased with herself. ‘You won’t find me an extravagant wife, Eddie.’

  I gave her hand a squeeze. It was like squeezing a raw chop. ‘That’s all right,’ I said. ‘Just you wait till we start hitting it up. Say, Myrtle, how far is it to this mansion of yours?’

  ‘Oh, a fair ride. I hope you’re not going to be disappointed in my little house, Eddie. It’s hardly the sort of thing you’ve been used to.’

  I had to hide a smile. ‘Don’t worry, Myrtle,’ I said. ‘I guess I can make it do. Somewheres near Oxford Street, did you say it was?’ That was about the only swell street I knew in London.

  ‘Oh, no. A long way,’ Myrtle said. ‘Now don’t ask any more questions. Wait and you’ll see.’

  Well, I did wait, and it seemed like I was waiting a long time. The taxi went on and on. Sometimes Myrtle told me the names of the districts we went through. ‘This is Fulham,’ she’d say. Or, ‘That’s Putney Town Hall.’ I thought they must have their railway depots a long way from the swell parts in London, but it didn’t look like the parts we kept driving through were getting any sweller.

  At last we turned out of a long street into a little one where the houses were joined together in pairs instead of standing alone. The taxi stopped in front of one. It had about six feet of garden in front of it, and on the front gate was ‘Rapallo.’ When the taxi drew up, the hired help came bouncing out on the steps. She didn’t wear a nice black dress and a white cap with streamers, like you see on the movies. She wore a sort of pink overall, and she looked like hell.

  ‘Ah, there’s Kate,’ said Myrtle.

  I looked at her. ‘Say, Myrtle,’ I said, ‘what the hell are we stopping here for?’

  ‘What do you think we’re stopping here for, my dear man?’ said Myrtle. ‘This is where I live.’

  Well, could you beat that?

  IV

  Now, I want you to get this plain. I never figured at the beginning to bump Myrtle off. I never have believed in bumping guys off unless you’ve got to, or dames either for that matter. It puts too much strain on a guy.

  But I hadn’t been Myrtle’s husband for a month before I began to see it was more than flesh and blood could stand. At that I might have stood it if we’d been living in a mansion and Myrtle had as much dough as I’d figured. But all she had was about two-three thousand bucks a year, and this one-horse little shack ‘Rapallo.’ It certainly was a tough break.

  As for Myrtle, you’d have thought she’d have been grateful to any guy that married her, with that dial of hers. But grateful hell! It seemed like she thought I ought to be down on my knees all the time being grateful to her for marrying me. It seemed like she thought she’d raised me up in the world, being associated with her. She was so pleased with herself she made me sorer than a split skull.

  And bossy! Say, it was a wonder she let me breathe without her permission. It was ‘Eddie, do this,’ and ‘Eddie, I’ve told you you’re not to do that,’ the whole time. And when I’d ask her who she thought she was ordering around, she’d say, ‘The meanest little skunk that ever came out of America, that’s who.’

  The reason she called me mean was when she began to suspicion that maybe I hadn’t got quite so much dough as I’d let on. I couldn’t hide it up, either. By the time we got to London I hadn’t much more than a dozen bucks left. Of course, I kept telling her I was expecting a draft any minute from home, but she was so darned mean she just didn’t believe me.

  After that she was always shooting off her mouth about her income only being enough for herself and not being able to keep an able-bodied husband in idleness, till I pretty near slugged her once or twice. But I don’t know. I’d slugged her once, and I kind of had the feeling that I’d better not try it again. No dame fights fair, and Myrtle always seemed like she might grab up the poker and sock me with that. Hell, that dame had me pretty nearly scared.

  So by the end of the month I’d figured out that I’d have to bump her off. There just wasn’t anything else to do.

  Of course I knew I could walk out on her, but where would I walk to? Besides, I didn’t see why I should have had all that trouble for nothing. Myrtle certainly owed me something, and that was the only way she was likely to pay it.

  Still, it wasn’t going to be so easy, at that. They’re liable to make quite a fuss here over the smallest case of assault if the guy craps out afterwards; and when a guy croaks, they don’t give any bail either. It’s not like it is back at home where you can put half a dozen guys on the spot in one evening, and only get a smile from the bulls; or if they do pull you in, just for the look of the thing, your attorney
only has to lodge a writ of habeas corpus to have you out again in ten minutes. No, they don’t give a guy much of a break over here.

  So I knew I’d got to be plenty careful; and when Myrtle wasn’t at me to chop up some wood or carry the coals to the kitchen or water the geraniums in the backyard or any other of the fool jobs she was always thinking up for me, I’d sit down and do some quiet figuring.

  The way it seemed to me was this: it had got to look like an accident.

  If it could be done that way, and the bulls didn’t get suspicious, there was no one else to worry. I knew that was an important thing, because I read up the dope about some of the big cases they’ve had over here and it often looked like the guy was going to get away with it till some relative of the victim comes snooping around and asking awkward questions and then goes off and tells the bulls that things don’t look too good. There was a guy called Seddon got his that way, and another guy called Crippen, and lots of other guys.

  When things don’t happen like that, it’s some darned fool little mistake the guy makes that puts the dicks wise to him. Maybe he contradicts himself, or can’t prove his alibi as well as he figured, or loses the check for the trunk he’s left at the depot containing the body of the guy he’s bumped off.

  Well, except for Kate, who’s too dumb to notice if anyone stole a pound of frankfurters out of her hand while she was putting them in her mouth, there’s no one to come snooping around after Myrtle; and I wasn’t going to do the job at all if it left any chance of making a mistake like the wise guys who get caught. I’d never bumped anyone off yet, and I certainly didn’t intend to fry for the first.

  That’s why I figured it must look like an accident, so neither the bulls nor the reporters would ever suspicion a thing.

  And another thing. It had to be an accident when I wasn’t anywhere around. These accidents don’t look so good when a guy and his wife go walking along the cliffs and the guy comes back without the wife. Even a Broadway cop would scratch his block over that.