Pattern of Murder. John Russell Fearn
Its weight made it slide down. He made a frantic grab at it in the dark, missed, and it thudded to the rubberoid at his feet.
The footsteps on the stairs stopped. After a pause they resumed again, becoming louder as the intruder returned slowly to the foyer. Terry gave a wild glance about him. He saw a dim figure. He did not wait to ask questions but lunged out with the extinguished torch he was gripping. Just in time the figure jerked back and he missed. He tripped over the fallen cash box and fell sprawling. The impact as he hit the floor snapped the torch into brilliance.
Cursing to himself he swung the beam round and it glared on to Vera Holdsworth, narrowing her eyes in the radiance. She was dressed just as she had been on leaving the cinema with Sid, in her light topcoat and silk scarf, her fluffy blonde hair uncovered.
“Well, if it isn’t Terry!” she commented cynically, as at length she was able to distinguish him.
He got to his feet and the girl glanced down as her foot caught against the cash box on the rubberoid. She stooped to pick the box up but Terry snatched it first.
“Get in that office!” he breathed. “Go on, damn you—get in!”
Vera hesitated, but a savage thrust of Terry’s hand sent her stumbling backwards through the doorway. She brought up sharp, gasping, as she struck the roll top desk. There was fear on her face now, and Terry thrilled to it. He hated this girl, hated her more than anybody on earth. He was convinced that she was somehow responsible for all the troubles that seemed to be besetting him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Terry demanded.
“That cuts both ways, doesn’t it?” Vera snapped back at him. “What’s going on in here? You’re— You’re a thief!” she cried. “You’ve stolen the cash box out of the safe!”
“I said: why are you here?”
“I came for my cigarette case.”
“You what?”
“Cigarette case! You deaf? I forgot it—left it in my uniform.”
Terry reflected over something; then he went to the safe door and closed it, spun the combination knob rapidly.
“You’re stealing money, aren’t you?” Vera asked, in vicious satisfaction. “Kind of thing you would do! You’ve even got rubber gloves on to prevent fingerprints!”
Terry picked up the cash box and jammed it inside his jacket once more. Then he went close to the girl.
“Listen to me, Vera....” His voice was quiet, deadly. “You’ve caught me red-handed, and I’m not mug enough to deny it—but if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never say a word.”
“Likely, isn’t it? Why, this is just the sort of chance I’ve been waiting for! To pay you for the way you hit me! I’ll tell the boss when he gets back tomorrow—”
“Oh, no you won’t! You see, nobody except you knows that I’ve come back here tonight. There’s not a single clue to prove that I’ve had anything to do with this burglary. You have a passkey to the building; you’re the head usherette with every opportunity to know the takings at the box office—and, if it comes to that, the combination of the safe. In a word, only one person is known to have come back here...you!”
Vera was silent, wrestling with the obvious truth.
“If you spill the beans and say you saw me, I’ll deny it,” Terry went on. “And you’ve no witnesses to prove what you say!”
“What you mean is, you’re going to let me take the blame for this in any case?” Vera demanded.
“No. If you keep your mouth shut you’ve nothing to be afraid of. I’ve fixed everything so it looks like an outside job.”
Vera bit her lip. Then, “what on earth did you want to steal the money for, anyway?”
“I’m not answerable to you for—”
Terry held up his hand sharply at a sudden commotion at the front doors. There was the sound of heavy feet, the crash of transport cases, and the unmusical strains of the latest rock ’n’ roll.
“Transport men,” Terry whispered, leaving a slight crack down the office door as he listened. “Not a word! You’re in this as much as I am—”
“But you’ve got the cash box. It’s my one chance to—”
Terry jumped, smothering the girl’s efforts to cry out. He clamped his hand with savage force over her mouth. He held on to her with savage tenacity as she fought and struggled. He only released her when the front doors had slammed and the men had gone. A moment or two afterwards there was the sound of their lorry grinding away up the street in first gear.
“Don’t try and get smart!” Terry snapped. “It won’t do you any good.... Now we’re going upstairs and get that cigarette case of yours.”
Using his torch, they went up the staircase together. He cast a light for her as she went into the staff room and across to the uniform she wore when on duty. In another moment she had brought the cigarette case into view. A powder compact, keys, and a wallet fell out onto the floor, mainly because Vera, flustered, whipped the uniform wrong way up in grabbing at it. Immediately she dived for the fallen articles, but Terry pushed her away.
“Just a minute!” he said slowly, turning the torch beam on the assortment. He stooped and picked up the wallet, looked inside it, and ran his thumb down a wad of notes. His eyes moved slowly to where Vera was standing, breathing hard.
“All right, it’s your wallet!” she snapped, tossing her head.
“Yes, my wallet. And about fifty pounds here! And you had the blasted nerve to call me a thief!” Terry’s voice mounted into fury. “Why, you cheap little liar, this money is mine, and the wallet! I thought some wide boy had done the stealing, although I couldn’t fathom how anybody else but you could have known how much money I’d got. You were the only one who did know: I took good care of that. I once thought it was you and then I decided you couldn’t be that rotten—I was wrong! Five of these notes have got pencilled initials in one corner; I marked them myself to know how much money I’d got.”
Vera said nothing, but she was breathing hard.
“Where’s the rest of it?” Terry blazed. Then as she did not answer he seized her arm and shook her violently. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“I...spent it.” Her reply was sullen, after a long interval. “All right, I admit I took it, after the horse had lost. It was when you were lying on the grass with your back to me. The wallet was sticking out of your hip pocket. I knew the money would only go to the bookie, and I could think of lots of better uses for it. I put the money down for a fur coat.... And what do you suppose you’re going to do about it?”
“Nothing,” Terry answered slowly. “Just nothing. In fact the position’s perfect. If anything makes certain you’ll keep your mouth shut, this does. In this cash box I’ve stolen there are about two hundred pounds—to make up for the two hundred you stole. I’ve got to pay that bookie, or take a beating, which I don’t intend to do. I can’t get back the money you’ve used, or prove anything. But, if the police find you’ve spent about one hundred and fifty quid on a fur coat and still have this fifty left they’ll ask a few questions, won’t they?”
Vera was silent. Terry hurled the wad of notes at her and they spewed in a shower at her feet.
“Take them, my bright one,” he sneered. “One lot of two hundred pounds is the same as another, far as I’m concerned. I’ve got all I want and a guarantee of your silence.... Incidentally, how do you intend to explain your fur coat to your mother and father?”
“I shan’t until the winter. Its actual price is about three hundred pounds. All I’ve done is put a down payment.... I’ll have thought of an excuse when the dark weather gets here. I’ll tell them I won a bet. They won’t be too fussy.”