Shock Treatment (7 page)

I pushed open the window, climbed out into the darkness of the verandah and then gently closed the window behind me
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CHAPTER IV

I

AT half-past eight the following morning I called the girl at Glyn Camp who relayed my telephone messages when I was out on my rounds.

“I’ll be leaving in a few minutes, Doris,” I said to her. “My first call will be at Mr Hamish’s place. I’ll be there around nine-thirty. If anything comes in between then and quarter-past ten, call me there, will you?”

She said she would.

It was essential to my plan that Doris should know I was with Hamish at nine-thirty. I was pretty sure that Delaney would try to turn on the TV set before the Dempsey film began. As the time-switch clock prevented the current getting into the set, the set wouldn’t work. He would think it had packed up, and he was certain to yell for me.

Doris, the telephone girl, would get the message and would pass it on to me while I was with Hamish. I would tell Hamish that Delaney wanted me to call on him. I would thus establish the reason why I had gone to Blue Jay cabin and why I happened to be the first to find his body. It was essential that I should be the first there as I had to set the scene before I called Doc Mallard and the Sheriff.

I had a cold empty feeling inside me as I locked up the cabin and got into the truck.

I drove fast down the mountain road until I reached the spot where I could see Delaney’s cabin in the far distance.

The time was now ten minutes to nine. I lit a cigarette with hands that were far from steady, and I stared down at the distant cabin.

There was no sign of any life out there, although the garage doors stood open, which was a hopeful sign. Would Gilda go to Glyn Camp? Would I have to make a mad race down to the cabin to make the remote control unit safe? It would take me about seven minutes to reach the cabin. I could wait until twenty minutes past nine, but no longer.

The next ten minutes were the longest I have ever lived through. I sat in the truck, my hands like ice, sweat on my face and my heart thumping.

I kept looking at my watch, wondering what was happening in the cabin, wondering if Gilda was getting ready to go down to Glyn Camp or if she had decided not to go.

Then suddenly I saw Gilda moving across to the garage.

I jumped to my feet.

She was going to Glyn Camp!

After a long pause, the Buick came out of the garage and drove down the tarmac to the gate. There, I lost sight of it, but I had no doubt that she was on her way to Glyn Camp as she usually did on a Friday morning, and she wouldn’t return before midday.

I looked towards the cabin. There was no sign of Delaney. I looked at my watch. The time was now a quarter-past nine. In less than half an hour, he would be dead.

On the way up to Hamish’s cabin, I tried not to think of Delaney, but I kept wondering what he was doing: if he had discovered yet that his set wasn’t working; if he was already talking to Doris on the telephone, telling her to get me over to his place right away.

I reached Hamish’s cabin at two minutes to half-past nine.

Mrs Hamish told me to go on in. She said I would find her husband in his workroom.

I went to his workroom which was at the rear of the cabin.

Hamish, a big man with a red jovial face, was sitting on the edge of his desk, the telephone receiver against his ear.

He looked up as I came in and nodded to me.

“He’s here now,” he said into the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Hold on, will you?” To me, he said, “Here’s a call for you, Regan.”

I guessed it would be Doris, calling to say Delaney wanted me to come over and fix his set. The whole plan was working like clockwork. It was uncanny: every move was coming out right for me.

“Thanks,” I said and took the receiver from him.

“I’ve just got to fix something,” he said. “I’ll be right back,” and he went out of the room.

When he had gone, I said, “Is that you, Doris?”

Then I got a shock that turned me rigid.

“Terry . . .  it’s me.”

It was Gilda!

“Gilda? Where are you?”

“I’m at your place. I found the key under the mat and I asked your girl where I could find you. She told me where you were.”

“But why are you at my place?”

“I’ve left him, Terry.”

I felt as if someone had slugged me under my heart.

“Left him? What do you mean? You said you would never leave him!”

“We had a horrible scene last night and another this morning. I can’t face any more of it, Terry. I’ve left him for good. I came here to talk to you about it. I’m going to ask him for a divorce.”

I was scarcely listening. Now she had left him, there was no reason for him to die! I looked at my watch. I had two minutes to save myself from becoming a murderer!

Two minutes!

“Stay where you are, Gilda,” I said. I had difficulty in controlling my voice. “I can’t talk now. I’ll be with you in an hour! Wait for me — do you understand?”

“But, Terry . . .”

I cut the connection, then feverishly dialled Delaney’s number. My hands were slippery with sweat. I was in a hell of a state.

As I listened to the burr-burr-burr on the line I again looked at my watch.

Fifty seconds!

I sat there, the receiver against my ear, my breath fast and heavy, listening to the bell ringing and slowly realizing that I was too late.

I let the bell ring until the hands of my watch crawled to a quarter to ten; then, very slowly, I replaced the receiver and got to my feet.

By now Delaney was dead and I had killed him!

There had been no need for him to have died! Gilda had freed herself by walking out on him — just as simply as that!

Well, it was done now. I had to think of myself. Panic flickered in my mind.

I heard Hamish coming, and I made an effort and pulled myself together. I moved quickly to his radiogram and began to fix the gadget I had brought with me. He joined me.

“If that really works,” he said, “it’s just what I have been looking for.”

I spent the next twenty minutes explaining and demonstrating how the gadget worked. I was so het up I didn’t know what I was saying, but Hamish was interested enough in the demonstration not to notice anything was wrong.

“It’s first rate,” he said finally. “I’ll give you a cheque right away.”

As he went to his desk I suddenly remembered that Delaney hadn’t called Doris and that put me on a spot. I had to tell Hamish I was going down to Delaney’s place. I had to have a reason if it came to an investigation why I happened to be the first to find his body.

Maybe Doris had forgotten to call me, although I knew this was unlikely.

“Can I use your phone?”

“Help yourself,” Hamish said as he searched in his desk drawer for his cheque book.

I called Doris.

“Has anything come in?”

“There was a lady asking for you. I gave her Mr Hamish’s number, but no one else has called.”

My heart began to pound. Was it possible that Delaney hadn’t tried to turn the set on before the fight film began? Was it even possible he hadn’t yet touched the remote control unit and was still alive?

“Did Mr Delaney call?”

“No.”

“Okay, I’ll call you later,” I said and hung up.

I was in a jam now. If Delaney was already dead, I didn’t dare go to his cabin for the next hour. If he were alive, I must stop him touching the remote control unit.

I didn’t hesitate. Hamish had written the cheque and had got up to examine the gadget I had fixed to the turntable. I dialled Delaney’s number. After listening to the unanswered ringing for several seconds, I hung up.

He must be dead, I thought, and I felt really bad.

Fortunately for me, Hamish was trying out the gadget and wasn’t paying me any attention; otherwise he would have seen the state I was in.

He waved to the cheque lying on his desk.

“There you are, Regan. You’re some salesman. This is the very thing.”

“I thought of you as soon as I saw it,” I said, putting the cheque into my wallet. “I must get down to Mr Delaney’s place now. I’ve just built him about the best set I’ve ever built, and I want to make sure he is satisfied.”

“What have you given him?”

I explained the set.

I had to spin out time. I didn’t dare get to Blue Jay cabin before a quarter to eleven. By then Delaney would have been dead an hour, and that should be good enough for an alibi.

“What sort of fellow is Delaney?” Hamish asked, sitting on the edge of his desk. “I looked in on him about a week ago, but he didn’t seem to welcome me. Do you know his wife?”

“I’ve met her,” I said cautiously.

“Some girl!” Hamish said, admiration in his voice. “What a body she’s got! It can’t be a lot of fun for her to be tied to a cripple.”

“That’s a fact.” I glanced at my watch. It was twenty minutes to eleven. “Is that the right time?” I nodded to his desk clock.

“Could be a little slow. I’d say it was close on twenty to eleven.”

“I must get going.”

“Well, thanks, Regan. If you find anything else you think I could use, let me know.”

I drove down to Blue Jay cabin at a moderate speed. My nerves were screwed up and my hands were clamped on the steering wheel in a knuckle-white grip. I kept wondering what I was going to find when I walked into the cabin. Would he be alive?

There was just the chance he had been sitting on the verandah and hadn’t bothered to answer the telephone. There was just a chance he had forgotten the fight film was showing.

I did something I hadn’t done for as long as I could remember. I began to pray. I prayed that when I walked into the cabin, I would find him there — alive.

II

As I stopped the truck before the gate leading up to Blue Jay cabin, the mail van came up the road and pulled up beside me.

Hank Fletcher, the Glyn Camp postman, grinned cheerfully through the open van window and waved two letters at me.

“Going up to see Mr Delaney?” he said. “Will you save me the walk and take these letters?”

This was a stroke of luck. Here was another witness of the exact time I had arrived at Blue Jay cabin. I went over to him.

“Sure,” I said, taking the letters. I looked at my watch. “Have you the right time on you, Hank?”

“It’s five after eleven, and that’s dead right.”

He waved to me and drove away down the road.

I glanced at the two letters he had given me. They were both for Delaney. I crammed them into my hip pocket, then opened the gate and drove the truck through, got out, shut the gate, then drove up to the cabin.

I was now breathing like an old man with asthma and my heart was thumping.

Was Delaney dead? I kept asking myself. Had I killed him?

I got off the truck and stood looking at the silent, deserted verandah. He wasn’t there, and that looked bad. I walked slowly up the steps.

The door leading into the lounge stood open. I paused. Across the lounge I could see the screen of the TV set, like a white eye that glared at me.

I moved forward, and then stopped abruptly.

Delaney was lying on the floor, his hands hiding his face.

No one could lie like that unless he was dead. There was a horrible rigidness about him that told me he must be dead.

I stood in the doorway, looking down at him, and I felt scared and sick.

I had done this thing. I had killed him.

Slowly, I moved into the lounge. I realized the danger I was now in. If I made one slip, I too would die. I had to go through with my plan. I was certain it was fool proof. All I had to do was to carry it out step by step and I must be safe.

Moving around his rigid body, I turned off the main’s switch, then I disconnected the plug from the mains to the set.

I bent over him and put my fingers on the back of his neck. I had to force myself to do it, but I had to be absolutely sure he was dead. The touch of his cold skin against my hot fingers told me as nothing else could that he was dead, and he had been dead some little time.

Crossing to the door, leading onto the verandah, I shut it, then I went back to the TV set, unscrewed the fastening screws and removed the back of the set.

I stripped out the time-switch clock and the wires from the remote control unit and reconnected them in their correct position.

I worked fast, and the whole job took under five minutes. Then I took the clock out to my truck and hid it under the driving seat. I got a length of flex and, returning to the lounge, I replaced the mains lead that I had cut the previous night.

I went out of the room and to the storeroom and hunted around until I found a tool box. This was on the top shelf, and I nearly missed it. In it I found two screwdrivers: one insulated and the other all steel. I took the all steel one and returned to the lounge. I placed the screwdriver on the floor close to Delaney’s right hand.

Then I worked on the remote control unit. I put back the insulated rubber caps and the rubber back.

I then turned the TV set so that its open back faced Delaney’s body.

I stood back and surveyed the scene.

It looked convincing enough to me except for an empty glass, lying on the carpet near Delaney. This seemed out of place. I guessed he had been drinking when he had died.

I picked up the glass. I didn’t want any confusion at the inquest. It had to be kept as simple as possible. If Joe Strickland suspected that Delaney was a drunk, he might probe deeper than I wanted him to.

I took the glass into the kitchen, washed it and dried it, taking care I held it in the cloth so I wouldn’t leave any fingerprints on it. I put the glass in the kitchen cupboard.

I returned to the lounge. All this had taken under ten minutes. It was time to call Sheriff Jefferson.

Before I picked up the receiver, I took one more look at the scene.

It looked convincing.

Delaney lay before the set, its back off and facing him, the screwdriver lay near his hand. Anyone coming on the scene who had no reason to doubt the setup would naturally come to the conclusion that he had been electrocuted while trying to find a fault in his set.