I drove north and when I came across the George Washington Bridge, I parked and called him again. “This is baggy tweed, Mr. Logan. Sorry I couldn't keep our date.”
“What is this, a rib?”
“Oh no, this is on the level. For...”
He said, “I don't like this.”
I said quickly, afraid he'd get off the hook, “You see, I got scared. It's... eh... sort of dangerous for me to be in New Jersey. Process server after me.”
“Gotcha. This a divorce case?”
“Why... yes. Any objections?”
“Nope, long as you put the green on the line. How do we get together?”
“It's one-thirty. Have you a car?”
“It's been called that.”
“Suppose you come to New York, to my place in the Bronx? If you use the George Washington Bridge, shouldn't take you more than an hour to get there. Let's make it for three.”
“Right. What's the address?”
I gave him the address of the house in the Bronx, added, “My wife has been giving me a hard time, so if the shades are down, don't worry. Don't want her to know I'm living there. Just come around to the back door. I'll give you fifty dollars then, and another fifty by seven tonight, when you tell me who she's seeing for supper.”
“Got yourself a deal. Only, be there—this is a long ride, chum.”
“I'll be there. This means a great deal to me.”
I drove up to the Bronx, parked the car on the street side of the sagging fence and old foundation. There wasn't a soul on the street, the kids must have been in a neighborhood pool, or park. Walking around the block to the deserted house, I passed a woman wheeling a baby carriage—no one else in sight. I knew my luck was with me, I'd stumbled on the ideal spot for murder. It was two-twelve. My seersucker coat was wet with sweat and my mouth sandy dry. I had to walk three blocks before I found a candy store. A bottle of soda made me feel a little better, only I wished the soda had been a whisky bracer.
Walking back slowly, I turned into the alley as though I owned the place, sat on the back steps. I put my hand in my right pocket, made sure the safety was off the gun....
And waited.
The sky turned a grayish blue... as though it was all a blue wash on which a drop of black had been spilled. I wondered if I was losing my sight. I wanted to ask Logan, who was pacing up and down beside me, staring at my stomach every few minutes with a worried look.
But when I opened my mouth to ask him about the sky, the air was as thick as a huge marshmallow and all I could do was chew on it. It felt good whenever I was able to swallow a little of the air. It stunk a bit, too, a rotten, over-sweet smell.
Logan muttered—and it was amazing how clearly I could hear even the smallest sounds. “Hope your wife gets here soon. Almost an hour now. Cops will come any minute and unless she gets here first or...”
He suddenly stiffened, held out a hand for me to be quiet —which was comical—as we both heard a car stop out in the street with the weird scream of tortured rubber. I heard the sound of people running up the alley... then Elma came into focus and behind her I saw the frightened face of Alice.
Logan grabbed Elma as she came toward me, her face ugly with hysteria. He shook her, said something in her ear, glancing at Alice. I saw her lips move and she pushed him aside and knelt next to me. She was wearing a strapless summer dress and I noticed the creamy white of the rise of her breasts as she bent over me—in pleasant contrast to her tan shoulders. I'd never do that terra-cotta nude of her now. I'd never do a damn thing any more...
She moaned, “Oh Marsh... Marsh,” and tears rushed from those wonderful slant eyes. The lovely mouth, the fine body, the ideas and jokes we had in common... all the things I loved and thought would always be mine... the things I murdered to keep... and now was losing.
I had only one thing more to do—try to explain to Elma why I did it. But when I opened my mouth, the air came in thick as spongy rubber. I kept chewing on it, trying to talk.
I moved my jaws hard... I had to tell her! But when I swallowed to clear my throat, another chunk of the sticky air stopped up my mouth.
I knew then I wouldn't be able to explain things to her and that made me sad, hurt. I made one last effort to clear my throat, but the hunk of air in my mouth merely moved down to my Adam's apple and stuck there and I began to choke.
I must have blacked out while I was gagging, for when I opened my eyes again I thought the blue sky had fallen on us. There was a wall of dark blue behind Elma... and a streak of white. Then I knew I was looking at the legs of a lot of cops and the streak of white was merely the pants of the ambulance doc.
Keeping awake was a long effort. The air was still stuffing my mouth and I could hardly breathe. Elma was bending over me, her eyes the tenderest things I'd ever seen. I looked into those wonderful eyes... tried to tell her with my own why I'd done all this... the gamble I'd taken, the horrible crime I'd committed... all for our happiness.
Her big lips were moving but I didn't hear a sound. I swallowed a few times, barely moving the chunk of air clogging my throat. Then—as if an invisible door had been opened—I heard her say, “Marsh, and if what they say is true... that you shot Mac... it was all my fault! I—I brought all this misery to you.... But, darling, if you had only told me!” She began to weep again, her tears falling on my face like a caress.
My eyes smiled up at her, trying to say she'd given me the only happiness I'd ever known and I was grateful.
She sobbed. “Marsh, Marsh... if you had... told me!”
I pushed the chunk of air to one side of my mouth with my tongue. I moved my hand, trying to touch her face— and nearly fainted with the effort. With my eyes I wanted to say, “Elma, what difference would it have made if I had told you? Only make you upset. And this goddamn professional busybody, this Logan, would have got me—us—and there would be the scandal of a long trial and the chair waiting at the end of the line, the...”
Then she said it... how clear I heard her words!
“Marsh, sweet, you see.... I hired Logan. To make the old lady feel better. And if I'd known it was... you...” She looked up and Logan's ordinary face came into view as he whispered, “Sure, Mr. Jameson, I'd have kept my mouth shut. I'm only paid to find out things, not to do anything about it. Why... when you told me your name... why I stalled calling the cops... till Mrs. Jameson came.”
“Marsh, we have so much ahead of us. You must get well and somehow we'll fight this out and...” Elma's voice ended in a hopeless sob and her tears wet my eyes.
The crazy irony of the whole mess hit me. So Elma had hired Logan! Sweet Jesus—if I had known! He probably would have blackmailed us, but I'd still have Elma and the baby... our life.
I wanted to laugh, to cry.... Marsh Jameson the clever boy, and all the time life had been laying in ambush, laughing at me, waiting for this final twist of the knife in the back, this last kick in the groin fate had been saving up for me.
I opened my mouth wide to laugh and this big solid chunk of air slipped in. I tried to shove it out but it went down my throat like a cork in a bottle. I couldn't chew it. I began to choke, to gag.... I knew I was dying now.
I thought, Death, you miserable bastard, get away from me.... Death, sneaking up in the shape of a hard hunk of smelly air.
Elma's large mouth suddenly twisted open to form a grotesque circle and a scream came tearing out, a scream that seemed to cover me with sound, and I began drifting away on it. I tried to fight, like a swimmer bucking the tide.
The choking in my throat made an odd rattling sound. Elma screamed and screamed and the doctor in white bent over me, but her tears hit my eyes, seemed to dim things. It seemed as though I was falling through a telescope, Elma's Screaming face was growing smaller and more indistinct in the distance.
Her screams were growing heavier and heavier—around me, carrying me away on the sound. I was floating on the sound waves and then Elma's face became a blur and I was sinking in the waves... sinking and... sinking fast....
The End
