He Won't Need it Now by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online

lane once or twice. They got back to the mausoleum at last and Duffy tried the key. The lock turned all right with some heavy pressure from Duffy, and he forced the door back. The air was bad down there, and he stepped away from the open door.
     “That guy's going to have good company,” was all he said.
     He went to the back of the car and wrestled with the straps that held the trunk. Annabel stood, holding the flash steady. He got the straps off and then levered the trunk to the ground. It was heavy, but he managed to get it down without making any noise. Then he stood up and wiped off his palms with his handkerchief.
     “I guess I could do with a drink,” he said heavily.
     “There's a pint flask in the driving-pocket.”
     Duffy slipped round to the door pretty quick. He belted that pint hard. He thought it would be safer not to give Annabel any of it. Whisky seemed to take her in the wrong way. He didn't like to think of turning her down again.
     “I guess I can tackle anything now,” he said, putting the flask in his hip pocket.
     He took off his coat and undid his collar, pulling his tie loose. Then he walked over to the trunk and dragged it into the mausoleum. Annabel stood just outside the door, shining the flash. The beam jerked about. Her hand was shaking like a barman at work.
     Duffy got the trunk inside and then paused.
     “For God's sake gimme that light,” he said.
     She seemed glad to do so. “I'm going to be sick,” she said.
     “No you ain't,” he said sharply. “Go and sit in the car quick.”
     When she had gone he opened the trunk and turned it on its side. The mackintosh parcel was jammed tight and he had to pull at it. The sheet suddenly tore in his hand and he went over backwards. He landed against a shelf, and his hand touched a cold metal strip. He fingered it, then he snatched his hand away. It was a handle of a coffin. His face oozed water as if it had been squeezed.
     He went to the door and took a deep breath of the dank air, then he went back to the trunk. Savagely he pulled Cattley out, pulled away the cord, and jerked off the mackintosh sheet. Cattley sprawled at his feet. He didn't look at him. Dumping the sheet into the trunk, he pulled the trunk out of the crypt.
     The whisky was hitting him all ends up now, and he lurched as he walked. He went back to get the flash, but he still didn't look at Cattley. Then he pulled the door of the mausoleum shut and shot the lock.
     His shirt was sticking to his chest, and his legs were a little wobbly. Annabel called from the car, “Are you all right?”
     Duffy said he was fine, but that was because he was drunk. He didn't feel so good. He'd have liked to get so drunk right now that the whole of the evening could be washed out in sleep. He had had enough of it for one night.
     She came out of the car and stood near him.
     “What about the trunk?” she asked.
     “Back at the lodge, there's a tap and hose for filling cans. I noticed it when I went in. I'll take these things over and wash 'em up, then we can go home.”
     She sat on the running-board of the car and smoked a cigarette. She sat there the whole time with her eyes tight shut. She was so scared of being alone, that if it hadn't been for the cigarette between her lips she would have screamed and screamed.
     On his way back, Duffy called to her when he was some distance away. He didn't want to come on her suddenly.
     “It's okay,” he said, hoisting the trunk on to the grid again. “There ain't no mess now. Cattley's planted good, so I guess that lets you out.”
     She got into the Cadillac and drove slowly down to the gates. He walked beside the car.. Opening the gates, he looked cautiously up and down the road, but it was dark and deserted. He shut the gates when she had driven into the road