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Authors: James Hadley Chase
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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
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
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