something, but she put her hand on my mouth.
‘It’s no good, Frank. Let’s begin again, and this time don’t let’s bluff. You know as well as I do you wouldn’t be doing a job like this if you could get anything better. What does he pay you - ten pounds? How do you think we could live as I want to live on ten pounds a week? We couldn’t.’
‘Well, all right, let’s begin again. It’s your turn to make a suggestion. What do we do?’
She flopped down on the settee, and her silk wrap fell open to the knees.
As I moved towards her, she said quietly, ‘What do we do, Frank? We kill him. There isn’t any other way.’
‘Let’s get this straight. You’ve got to cut that kind of talk right out with me. I’m not as soft in the head as all that. They hang you for murder. I’m not all that tired of life.’
‘They won’t know. They won’t even suspect us.’
I went over to the sideboard, hoisted up a bottle of Scotch, poured out two big slugs and carried them to the settee.
‘They always know.’
She took the whisky.
‘Not the way I’ve planned it.’
‘So you’ve already planned it? All right, tell me, and I’ll tell you where it goes wrong.’
‘It won’t go wrong.’
‘Go ahead and tell me.’
‘If you think it’s a good idea, will you help me, Frank?’
‘It won’t be a good idea, but tell me, and I’ll show you why it isn’t a good idea, and you’ll thank me because I’ll have saved your lovely neck for you.’
The green eyes suddenly glittered, and the soft, full mouth tightened.
‘You think I’m a fool, don’t you?’
‘Nothing like it, but a safe murder has got to be good, and I don’t think any woman can make it as good as it has to be, nor do I think any woman can stand up to the grilling from the police when they start in on her. You or any other woman.’
‘That sounds as if you think you could do better.’
‘Never mind what it sounds like. Tell me your idea. Let’s have a look at it.’
For a moment or so she hesitated.
‘You know that milkman leaves the milk on the gate.’
‘All right, hold it! Don’t tell me anymore. You’ve said enough. The milk on the gate: so that’s it. Now I know exactly what your idea is, and it won’t do. It won’t even start to do.’
‘How do you know?’ She was leaning forward, staring at me, her face suddenly white and set.
‘Because it sticks out a mile. Listen, I’ll tell you. To start off with, it doesn’t look bad. I admit that; it doesn’t look bad at all. The milk is left on the gate every morning where anyone could tamper with it. All they have to do is to squirt poison through the cardboard cap with a hypodermic. That’s the way you would do it because you have a hypodermic. I’ve seen it in the bathroom. Now, another thing I’ve noticed: you never have milk with your morning coffee, but he does. So it would be safe for you to poison his milk, and look wide-eyed with horror when the police arrive. You could also assure them you never have milk with your coffee, and they might believe it. But your only witness who’d support your story would be dead, and that is the beginning of your troubles.’
‘You’re just picking holes in the idea. I don’t see what’s wrong with it.’
‘There’s everything wrong with it. Now I know why you’ve been sending him threatening letters. You think that’ll give you an alibi. You think those notes will make the police think someone wants him out of the way, and after writing a number of notes, poisons him. Do you really think they’d believe it?’
She drank the whisky in two quick gulps, as if she needed it. Her hand was shaking.
‘Why shouldn’t they believe it?’
‘Because they’ve been trained never to believe anything that’s put before them. They may seem to believe it, but you can bet your sweet life they won’t do more than consider it as a possibility. First, they’ll start digging, and make no mistake about it, those boys dig deep.
‘It’s no good, Frank. Let’s begin again, and this time don’t let’s bluff. You know as well as I do you wouldn’t be doing a job like this if you could get anything better. What does he pay you - ten pounds? How do you think we could live as I want to live on ten pounds a week? We couldn’t.’
‘Well, all right, let’s begin again. It’s your turn to make a suggestion. What do we do?’
She flopped down on the settee, and her silk wrap fell open to the knees.
As I moved towards her, she said quietly, ‘What do we do, Frank? We kill him. There isn’t any other way.’
‘Let’s get this straight. You’ve got to cut that kind of talk right out with me. I’m not as soft in the head as all that. They hang you for murder. I’m not all that tired of life.’
‘They won’t know. They won’t even suspect us.’
I went over to the sideboard, hoisted up a bottle of Scotch, poured out two big slugs and carried them to the settee.
‘They always know.’
She took the whisky.
‘Not the way I’ve planned it.’
‘So you’ve already planned it? All right, tell me, and I’ll tell you where it goes wrong.’
‘It won’t go wrong.’
‘Go ahead and tell me.’
‘If you think it’s a good idea, will you help me, Frank?’
‘It won’t be a good idea, but tell me, and I’ll show you why it isn’t a good idea, and you’ll thank me because I’ll have saved your lovely neck for you.’
The green eyes suddenly glittered, and the soft, full mouth tightened.
‘You think I’m a fool, don’t you?’
‘Nothing like it, but a safe murder has got to be good, and I don’t think any woman can make it as good as it has to be, nor do I think any woman can stand up to the grilling from the police when they start in on her. You or any other woman.’
‘That sounds as if you think you could do better.’
‘Never mind what it sounds like. Tell me your idea. Let’s have a look at it.’
For a moment or so she hesitated.
‘You know that milkman leaves the milk on the gate.’
‘All right, hold it! Don’t tell me anymore. You’ve said enough. The milk on the gate: so that’s it. Now I know exactly what your idea is, and it won’t do. It won’t even start to do.’
‘How do you know?’ She was leaning forward, staring at me, her face suddenly white and set.
‘Because it sticks out a mile. Listen, I’ll tell you. To start off with, it doesn’t look bad. I admit that; it doesn’t look bad at all. The milk is left on the gate every morning where anyone could tamper with it. All they have to do is to squirt poison through the cardboard cap with a hypodermic. That’s the way you would do it because you have a hypodermic. I’ve seen it in the bathroom. Now, another thing I’ve noticed: you never have milk with your morning coffee, but he does. So it would be safe for you to poison his milk, and look wide-eyed with horror when the police arrive. You could also assure them you never have milk with your coffee, and they might believe it. But your only witness who’d support your story would be dead, and that is the beginning of your troubles.’
‘You’re just picking holes in the idea. I don’t see what’s wrong with it.’
‘There’s everything wrong with it. Now I know why you’ve been sending him threatening letters. You think that’ll give you an alibi. You think those notes will make the police think someone wants him out of the way, and after writing a number of notes, poisons him. Do you really think they’d believe it?’
She drank the whisky in two quick gulps, as if she needed it. Her hand was shaking.
‘Why shouldn’t they believe it?’
‘Because they’ve been trained never to believe anything that’s put before them. They may seem to believe it, but you can bet your sweet life they won’t do more than consider it as a possibility. First, they’ll start digging, and make no mistake about it, those boys dig deep.
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