Double Indemnity - James M. Cain [19]
We got him over to the track the train went out on, and dropped him. I cut the harness off and slipped it in my pocket. I put the lighted cigar within a foot or two of him. I threw one crutch over him and the other beside the track.
"Where's the car?"
"There. Couldn't you see it?"
I looked, and there it was, right where it was supposed to be, on the dirt road.
"We're done. Let's go."
We ran over and climbed in and she started the motor, threw in the gear. "Oh my—his hat!"
I took that hat and sailed it out the window, on the tracks. "It's O.K., a hat can roll,—get going!"
She started up. We passed the factories. We came to a street.
On Sunset she went through a light. "Watch that stuff, can't you, Phyllis? If you're stopped now, with me in the car, we're sunk."
"Can I drive with that thing going on?"
She meant the car radio. I had turned it on. It was to be part of my alibi, for the time I was out of the house, that I knocked off work for a while and listened to the radio. I had to know what was coming in that night. I had to know more than I could find out by reading the programs in the papers. "I've got to have it, you know that—"
"Let me alone, let me drive!"
She hit a zone, and must have been doing seventy. I clenched my teeth, and kept quiet. When we came to a vacant lot I threw out the rope. About a mile further on I threw out the handle. Going by a curb drain I shot the glasses into it. Then I happened to look down and saw her shoes. They were scarred from the tracks ballast.
"What did you carry him for? Why didn't you let me—"
"Where were you? Where were you?"
"I was there. I was waiting—"
"Did I know that? Could I just sit there, with that in the car?"
"I was trying to see where you were. I couldn't see—"
"Let me alone, let me drive!"
"Your shoes—"
I choked it back. In a second or two, she started up again. She raved like a lunatic. She raved and she kept on raving, about him, about me, about anything that came in her head. Every now and then I'd snap. There we were, after what we had done, snarling at each other like a couple of animals, and neither one of us could stop. It was like somebody had shot us full of some kind of dope. "Phyllis, cut this out. We've got to talk, and it may be our last chance."
"Talk then! Who's stopping you?"
"First then: You don't know anything about this insurance policy. You—"
"How many times do you have to say that?"
"I'm only telling you—"
"You've already told me till I'm sick of hearing you."
"Next, the inquest. You bring—"
"I bring a minister, I know that, I bring a minister to take charge of the body, how many times have I got to listen to that—are you going to let me drive?"
"O.K., then. Drive."
"Is Belle home?"
"How do I know? No!"
"And Lola's out?"
"Didn't I tell you?"
"Then you'll have to stop at the drugstore. To get a pint of ice cream or something. To have witnesses you drove straight home from the station. You got to say something to fix the time and the date. You—"
"Get out! Get out! I'll go insane!"
"I can't get out. I've got to get to my car! Do you know what that means, if I take time to walk? I can't complete my alibi! I—"
"I said get out!"
"Drive on, or I'll sock you."
When she got to my car she stopped and I got out. We didn't kiss. We didn't even say good-bye. I got out of her car, got in mine, started, and drove home.
When I got home I looked at the clock. It was 10:25. I opened the bell box of the telephone. The card was still there. I closed the box and dropped the card in my pocket. I went in the kitchen and looked at the doorbell. That card was still there. I dropped it in my pocket. I went upstairs, ripped off my clothes, and got into pajamas and slippers: I cut the bandage off my foot. I went down, shoved the bandage and cards into the fireplace, with a newspaper, and lit it. I watched it burn. Then I went to the telephone and started to dial. I still had one callback to get, to round out the late part of my alibi. I felt