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  It was sort of a nasty little trick to play on him, she thought. She unsnapped the white leather purse, held it so that Jay couldn’t help seeing it. She held open the red leather wallet, fingered off four hundreds and two fifties, crumpled them and handed them to him. “Here you are, Jay, dear,” she said casually.

  His hand shook as he snapped off the lighter. Hoarsely he said, “You certainly carry the cabbage—er—carry a great deal of money around with you.”

  The same small demon that had inspired her to show him the large wad of cash made her say, “Oh, money is the least of my worries. I could just as easily have loaned you five thousand—or fifty thousand.”

  When she said the last figure, he started as though a pin had been jabbed into him. Quickly he recovered control. “I don’t need quite that much,” he said, laughing. But his laugh was hollow.

  She was filled with secret amusement. The smell of money was to him like sunshine and rain to a growth of weeds. It expanded him, made him luxuriant.

  And she noted, as he pulled her roughly into his arms, that it gave him a new sense of mastery. She tilted her piquant face up and prepared herself to give a timeworn imitation of interest.

  It was as though a tiny fire, a strange fire never before experienced, burned deep inside her; growing, finally bursting through the cold artifice, shattering the layer of indifference.

  Never before had she experienced such a feeling.

  She pulled herself away from him, suddenly frightened of herself more than of him. Her cheeks were hot—partly with anger, because up until that moment she had been the dominant party, the superior being, amused at this tiresome little man. And suddenly he was dominant, his teeth glowing whitely in the darkness as he smiled at her, as he sensed her confusion.

  It was with shame that she heard her own disordered breathing, and she stilled it with enormous effort. Her voice sounded rusty and old as she said, “Don’t you think we ought to head back?”

  “Sure thing.” He started the motor, turned out into the road, and she heard him humming under his breath as he drove rapidly back toward the Court …

  Long after she was alone in her cabin she still walked restlessly back and forth, from the bureau to the bed, her hands clenched in fury. She fought to regain her feeling of power, of amused condescension. At this late date was she to fall into a sticky emotional trap like any schoolgirl?

  At last she lay exhausted on the bed, defeated, abject. She knew that this emotion which had struck her down was stronger than her will. She wanted nothing more than to be with Jay Kelso for every hour of every day. And it was impossible to think of his dying, to think of a world where he did not exist. After weeping, she laughed—softly and without humor.

  Jay Kelso felt that he was rapidly approaching the biggest opportunity of his life. He stood outside his cabin in the darkness, and fingered the crisp texture of the bills in his pockets. The taste of the liquor he had just drunk from the opened bottle was raw on the back of his tongue.

  Life had suddenly become very complicated. He had been almost completely discouraged about the Oliver woman. She had seemed so—so remote. And he had caught her looking at him from time to time as though he was some sort of a bug she found when she tipped up a flat rock. She had made him feel stupid and young.

  When he had given her the yarn about needing a few hundred, he had done so with the idea that she would brush him off, maybe laugh at him. She had an odd way of hurting his confidence. The willingness with which she had handed it over—in cash—had taken his breath away. And then, when she had said that about five thousand or fifty thousand, he had felt as though somebody had hit him in the pit of the stomach with a hammer.

  Yes, he had figured it wrong. The old biddy was a hell of a lot better heeled than he had suspected. And she had no reason to lie.

  Then, when he had kissed her, she had fallen apart—come all to pieces like a young kid. That was funny. His lips curled in slight distaste as he thought of the sagging looseness of the flesh under her chin. But to give her the benefit of the doubt, that was the only place she showed her age. Yes, she was all right. But compared to Serena—hell, it was like comparing a cube of sugar to a hundred gallons of honey. And he had all that dough on the hook, but good!

  He arched his chest and beat his clenched fist against his thigh. More dough than he had ever had a smell of before!

  The deal was to get hold of as much of it as possible. He knew that if he chiseled five thousand, he’d always think of the much larger amount he had left behind. What was five thousand? You couldn’t even live a year on that. No, there had to be a better way.

  In the morning he would send a hundred to the finance company and a hundred to Myra. That would shut both of them up. Give him time to think.

  Betty and Serena. Serena and Betty. What a mess! Now if Serena only had Betty’s money—or if Betty had Serena’s looks. The deal was to find some way of grabbing all of Betty Oliver’s money, and then marrying Serena.

  There was that marriage idea again! Must be getting soft in the head. But no getting around it. He wanted to marry Serena. The trouble was, the only sure way to get all of Betty’s money was to marry her. From the way the old biddy had reacted, she would be a pushover for marriage. Yeah. She’d grab the hook like a starving bass. Then where would he be? Tied to her apron strings for a couple of thousand years while Serena went off with somebody else. Maybe even with that Lawton punk. What’ll you have, Kelso—money or the gal? But why not both?

  Suddenly he stood very still and almost stopped breathing. The idea was vivid, startling and full of cold fear. Marry both of them! Marry Betty and fix her up with an—an unfortunate accident. Husband inherits. Widower, loaded with dough, marries young gal.

  For a moment a vision flashed across his mind. A neat little chair with straps on the arms, electrodes and a black cap to fit over his head.

  No, that would have to be avoided at all costs …

  Maybe his marrying Betty would put Serena off him for keeps? But then he’d have dough to help him forget. Forgetting was easy with money in the kick. And if he moved fast enough, talked fast enough after Betty was—was dead, he could probably rope Serena back into the fold. “Darling, I made a horrible mistake. It was you all along.” Something like that.

  Probably be a good idea to lay the groundwork before Betty died. But how would she die? Fall guys were better than accidents. How many fall guys were there around this dump? Just one. That Lawton guy.

  Kelso frowned in the darkness. With sudden resolution he strolled down toward the main building. It was so late that the floodlights were off. He knew that Jonas Bright, unable to sleep, often sat out there after the place was closed, thinking old-man thoughts, remembering, tasting the night.

  Jonas was in his usual chair. Kelso went up behind him, said softly, “Nice night.”

  The old man’s head jerked around. “Yep. Can’t you sleep either?”

  Kelso laughed. “Usually I can. Tonight, no.” He let a long period of silence go by. Then he said, “You know, pop, that Lawton is a funny guy.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I saw the son of a gun talking to himself yesterday. Is he a little bit nuts?”

  Jonas was quiet for so long that Jay thought he wasn’t going to answer. Finally the old man said, “Guess he had a bad time in the war. From a couple of little things he said, about prison camps and stuff like that, I shouldn’t wonder if he was in one of those head hospitals.”

  Kelso fought to keep the delight out of his voice. He said, “Yeah, that makes it a rough deal. They wouldn’t take me, you know. Bad teeth. I got a full set of choppers top and bottom. The rule says you got to have eight of your own teeth.”

  Jonas Bright grunted. Kelso turned the conversation onto the weather and then walked slowly away. When he was out of earshot of the old man, he quickened his steps.

  What a break! A psycho right on stage. His mind began sifting through the possible clues he could leave.
That Lawton was a powerful guy. It would have to look as though a powerful guy had done it. Snatch a couple of hairs out of her head and sneak them into Lawton’s quarters. Those torn khaki shorts of Lawton’s would be a good deal. Rip off a small hunk and wedge it into her dead hand like she had torn it off in a struggle.

  That ought to be enough. Too many clues would be bad, would make even the hick cops wonder about a frame.

  He reached toward the doorknob of his own cabin, then paused. Hell, this was too good to hang back on. Better use the speeding hours to talk the Oliver dish into that quick ceremony that would make Jay Kelso the legal heir.

  With quiet steps he went up the slope toward her cabin. All the cabins were dark. He glanced at the luminous dial of his wristwatch. A little after two. He knocked lightly.

  “Who is it?” she said softly.

  He made his voice hoarse. “Me, Betty. Jay. I want to talk to you.”

  “Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “Please, Betty. It’s important. Don’t show a light when you open the door.”

  There was a long period of silence. Then her latch clicked softly and the door opened. He slipped through, reached for her, pulled her gently against him.

  “Oh, Betty,” he said.

  “You shouldn’t have come here,” she whispered.

  Ben Lawton was putting new washers in the faucets of Cabin 5 when Serena Bright walked dully in with clean sheets, pillowcases and towels. He looked up, saw her face, desolated and ravaged by tears, and his heart went out to her.

  She had been badly fooled by Kelso, but that didn’t make it any less bitter for her. He had a sudden appreciation of the agonies she must have to go through when she took fresh linens to Cabin 11, now shared for these past ten days by Jay Kelso and his bride.

  But it was time that Serena snapped out of it, he thought. The girl couldn’t go on this way forever. And that marriage escapade certainly must have given Serena some idea of the sort of man she had been dealing with.

  Ben grinned up at her, straightened up and said, “Well, maybe she’ll be a mother to him.”

  A weak, sad smile touched Serena’s lips. “I thought so at first, Ben. But have you looked at the darn woman? She’s dropped fifteen years. Now I know what they mean by the ‘radiant bride.’ Ben, I can’t understand how it happened so—so quickly.”

  “He probably got a look at her financial statement.”

  “But he really isn’t that way, Ben. That woman must have some hold over him.”

  He put the wrench down, wiped his hands on the sides of his shorts, went over to her and took her by the wrists.

  “Honey,” he said, “I’ve never talked this way to you before. I’ve kept my past to myself. I’m working here to get back some measure of mental stability. But before the war, I was successful in a rough, tough business in New York City. Kelso comes from around that area. I cased him the minute I saw him. His type are a dime a dozen up there. Amateur sharpies. Hangers-on.

  “But you can’t condemn them. They come up out of the city slums, and they get their training battling for nickels when they’re six years old. Life makes them unscrupulous, selfish—and the smarter ones pick up a sugar coating of the mannerisms and dress they see in the movies. Kelso is one of the smarter ones, but that doesn’t make him a more noble human being. His life and his instincts are on an animal level.

  “You are a nice gal, Rena. It would be a shame if, this early in your life, you threw away everything you have to offer on a citizen with the sweet instincts of a rooting hog.”

  “But, he told me—”

  “Serena, he told you the things he thought you wanted to hear. And if I don’t miss my bet, he wants to have his cake and eat it, too. He married the Oliver woman because he was running short of money. Now you watch him. When he gets a chance, he’ll feed you some more sweet talk just to keep you around. Maybe he’ll milk her of as much money as he can and try to talk you into running off with him.”

  Her eyes were suddenly angry. “He won’t get anywhere, not after this!”

  “That’s what I wanted you to say, Rena. I think you got through this without being hurt too bad. And it probably taught you something. You’re a sweet gal, believe me.”

  Still holding her wrists, he leaned forward, and kissed her lightly. He let go of her wrists, and she came into his arms, young, fresh, eager.

  He held her away, his hands on her shoulders. “Hey,” he said, “don’t you understand about rebound?”

  In a wondering tone she said, “And you’ve been around all the time! Right under my nose.”

  “Hey, hold it! I don’t help anybody do their forgetting. Once you get rid of the weeping look, then we’ll see if I hold the same attractions.”

  “I’m not doing any more weeping, Benjamin,” she said.

  “Good. Will you go out with me sometime?”

  “Of course, Ben. When?”

  “Exactly one month from today. Okay?”

  She frowned. “Hard to get, huh? I can wait. One month from today.”

  After Jay Kelso had heard Serena’s and Ben’s voices, and had looked in at the open door of Cabin 5 without being observed, he had walked in anger up to Cabin 11, wondering if he had waited too long.

  Before entering Cabin 11, he put on the mechanical smile that had become a habit with him. It was hard to conceal the distaste when he stepped in and Betty came prancing kittenishly toward him, put her arms tightly around his neck and whispered, “Ooo was gone so long, lover man.”

  “Yeah. Sure,” he said absently, untangling her arms, trying not to see the hurt look in her eyes. He dug back into an uncertain education to find the word he wanted. Oppressive—yes, that was it. This was an oppressive woman. No wonder that Oliver guy had kicked off. She had drowned the poor guy in melted sugar.

  If only she wouldn’t try to be twelve years old. It made her ridiculous. All this prancing and posturing and baby talk was turning his stomach. He felt as though he were being sucked down into a sticky pool.

  And those kid clothes she was buying. Bright halters and shorts and sandals. He was forced to admit that from the rear she looked like a slim young girl. But when you saw the face, it didn’t go with the getup. There were too many fine lines around her lavender eyes, too much fullness at her throat.

  Yes, it would have to be quick before he was smothered. It was like being married to a combination chorus line, Girl Scout troop and kindergarten. But at least she was liberal with her dough. She had said that pretty soon she’d have to make a trip to get more, that it was tied up in a trust that she could cancel and take in cash. He had hinted around about how much cash, and she had said that it was enough for the two of them to have everything they wanted for the rest of their lives. Cars, clothes, fun, nice places, cruises.

  The silk gabardine suit she had bought him was the nicest piece of goods he had ever owned. As though by mutual consent, they had never mentioned his mythical business in Jersey. It was as though she had known all along that he had been lying.

  Yes, it was time to have a quiet few words with Serena, and then to put the plan in motion. He suddenly realized that he would be deathly afraid to kill Betty. But he would get a great deal of satisfaction out of it just the same.

  Her heart sang her new name. Betty Kelso! Betty Kelso! She thought of herself as having been a barren winter landscape. And now the warm sun of spring had melted the frost.

  Never before was it like this. She had not known that she was capable of such feelings. How had she ever thought Jay was a cheap and amusing little man? No, Jay was the finest man she had ever known. He was sweet and dear and kind and wonderful. She wanted to dance and sing whenever she thought of him. She was upset when he was away from her, wonderfully happy when he was with her.

  Her past was a strange, horrible dream, full of things done by an entirely different person. That part of her life was definitely finished. She wondered if fate had saved her for this delectable happiness.

 
; And yet, with that thought came a superstitious awe. She knew that she had sinned against society—against the laws of the church, against the moral laws of civilization—and she was afraid. Afraid that, in retribution, this new happiness would be taken from her.

  No, that was impossible. She and Jay were the two happiest persons in the world. Her tracks had been so carefully covered that there was no chance of the authorities catching up with her, even if they did suspect any of the deaths.

  No, nothing could happen to spoil it. She felt warm, alive, vibrant—beyond anything she had ever felt before. She was sorry she hadn’t met Jay first instead of Albert Gordon. Then she smiled. That was silly. At the time she had married Albert Gordon, Jay Kelso had been, at the very most, four years old. But the difference in ages was unimportant. She felt younger than Jay. And she knew that this new love would keep her young.

  She walked to the door of Cabin 11 and looked down the narrow sloping street. There was that Serena girl. She smiled as she remembered how Jay had been going out with Serena before she, Betty, had come along. Now Jay knew how silly he had been.

  That old couple had moved out of Cabin 7 the day before. The girl went into the cabin laden with linens. Jay had gone down to buy cigarettes from the girl behind the counter. She saw him turning into the road, walking slowly, and her heart gave a great leap as it always did when she saw him again after a short absence.

  She stepped back out of the doorway, as she wanted to watch him without his knowing that she was doing so. She wanted to try to look at him as a third person, to see how wonderful he was. She looked through the Venetian blinds. He was coming near, nearer.

  Soon his arms would be around her.

  He paused, glanced toward her, though he could not see her of course, and then turned into Cabin 7. She frowned, then realized that he probably wanted to give that girl some instructions.