The Man Who Stopped at Nothing (1951) Page 7

  “I supposed you saw it. You were leading this show. You must be blind. We’ve been circling it for the last hour. Besides, we aren’t looking for a house. We’re looking for Lattimore.”

  Torp favored Wilson with a snort of disgust, then grew thoughtful as he stared at the weather-stained structure back among the trees.. “You got pretty good eyes at that,” he said.

  Wilson was not in a cordial mood. “I can find my way down a street after dark,” he snapped.

  “It’s amazing the way that place blends with the trees. No wonder the State Police didn’t find it.”

  Torp’s spirits were rising. He laughed. “They didn’t have you along, Tom.”

  “You think it’s what we’re looking for?”

  “I don’t know, but we’ll find out, anyhow. Come on.”

  They moved in single file toward the house.

  “Here’s a door,” Wilson said ‘a few minutes later. “Shall we knock?”

  “Might be a good idea. It looks deserted, though. Here—let me.”

  Torp whaled his ham of a fist against the panel. The sound echoed into the house, out again, and off among the trees.

  The men waited. Nothing happened and Torp knocked again. A, minute passed.

  Ferguson said, “If anybody’s home, they’re asleep.”

  “Not after that racket,” Diehl observed. “Try the door, Mat.”

  Torp wrapped his fist around the knob and twisted. The door opened on creaking hinges. Another long minute ticked by.

  Wilson said, “Well, what are you waiting, for? Go on in.”

  “Don’t rush me—don’t rush me. Plenty of time. We found the place—that’s the main thing.”

  “Sure, but we can rot standing out here waiting for something to happen. Go on in.”

  “Maybe we better go for the police,” Ferguson suggested.

  “Not yet,” Torp said. “Come on. Here we go.”

  ONE BY one, they filed into the silent house, into a strange silent room. In one corner, an electric arc was traveling back and forth between two points on some fantastic machine. It threw a ghostly radiance over the room.

  For a long time the men remained silent, ready to jump and run at the least sound. If a mouse had suddenly scooted across the floor, it would have caused a panic.

  But no sound came until Torp’s hoarse whisper broke the silence. “Golly! Did you guys ever see such a joint?”

  “Looks like something out of a horror movie.”

  “Maybe that’s what it is. Maybe movie companies come up here to shoot pictures.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Well, to avoid publicity maybe.”

  Torp snorted, “Who ever heard of a movie outfit that didn’t want publicity?”

  “All the same, there’s something mighty unhealthy about this place. Something ghoulish.”

  Gradually courage arose in the group. They took careful steps forward, gentle steps calculated to leave a drowsy rodent peacefully sleeping.

  Dead quiet, until Wilson choked, “For God’s sake! Look!”

  “Look at what?”

  “There—on that table. A corpse! A body! It ain’t got no clothes on it!”

  “I’ll be doubly, damned!” Torp whispered fervently. “I think it’s Dorq Lattimore.”

  “I wonder if he’s alive.”

  “We better find—”

  Now Ferguson squalled, “Yipe! Look out! There on the floor. Another corpse.”

  “Holy-criyi,” Torp exclaimed. “What’s been going on here? The place looks like a slaughter house.” Torp turned and moved toward Ferguson’s find. This was a little less ghoulish, somehow. Possibly the blood and the signs of honest and wholesome death lent authenticity to the scene.

  TORP BENT down and examined the remains of Jan Limpus. “Wild looking character, and he’s sure dead. He was murdered or my name ain’t Torp.”

  Wilson had gained courage and was investigating the body on the table. He studied it for some moments and then laid his ear to its chest. He jerked himself erect.

  “Lattimore’s still alive. Come here! Help me!”

  They crowded around the table while Wilson went somewhere and brought back a glass of water. He raised Dorn Lattimore’s head and tried to pour the liquid down his throat, but failed.

  “He’s alive though. His heart’s beating; We’ve got to get him to a doctor.”

  “There’s been devilish things going on here,” Ferguson muttered darkly as he looked around the rpom.

  Torp had been standing back surveying the scene from under heavy brows. “Wait a minute,” he said.

  “Let’s talk this over. I think it’s time we had a conference. It ain’t a good thing to forget why we’re here.”

  “What are you talking about?” Wilson demanded. We’ve got a sick man on our hands.”

  “We may have something else. We may have a murderer.”

  Diehl spoke for the first time in quite a while. “You mean Lattimore? You think maybe he killed this man?”

  Torp shrugged. “It isn’t what I think. It’s how the police will take it. Now, after all, Dorn here was one of us. We don’t want him standing no trial for murder.”

  “If we don’t get him to a doctor,” Wilson snapped, “it will make no difference one way or another. He’s almost dead now.”

  “But I think we better agree first to tell everybody we found him out in the woods.”

  Wilson frowned. “I can’t figure you out, Torp. You know you hated Dorn’s guts. Always have. What’s behind all this sudden concern for his welfare? If he killed a man, it’s up to the law to decide what happens.”

  Torp grew expansive. “Now let’s take it easy. That’s not the way we should feel about it. I liked Dorn. I always did.”

  “I think I get it now,” Wilson said. “You’ve got it all figured out. All the money Lattimore has is the insurance due his wife. If he’s tried and goes to the chair for murder, she can’t collect. That means you whistle for your money.”

  “We’d all whistle,” Torp said.

  “I knew I was right. And if he draws a jail term, you still can’t collect.”

  “Well, we got to think of our own interests.”

  THORP WAS suddenly the target of cold looks from all directions.

  Diehl asked,- “Mat, how much did Dorn owe you?.”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “More than five-hundred dollars?”

  “I said it was none of your business.”

  “Couldn’t have been much more. All you did was add a room to his house.”

  “Cut this out,” Wilson barked. “Help me with Lattimore. See if you can find some blankets or something. We’ve got to wrap him up and carry him to the car. Then get him to town and bring the police back to this place.”

  It took half an hour to get back to the road and over an hour to drive back to Stonegate. They debated stopping off to find a doctor on the way, but thinking of possible time lost in the hunt, they voted to continue into town.

  There they drove into the emergency ramp of the Stonegate hospital and Wilson breathed easier. “That’s all we can do,” he said, “except call the police and send them to that weird hideout. I’ll take care of it.”

  Late that-afternoon, a pair of State Troopers called on Tom Wilson.

  “We located the place, but something must have happened. We found it burned to the ground. Lucky the woods was wet or we’d have had a forest fire on our hands. All we found in the way of a body was a few charred bones.”

  Later Wilson called on Matthew Torp. Wilson said, “I don’t like you any more, Mat. I don’t think any of the other boys do, either.”

  “What the hell’s the matter with you? All I tried to do was protect our interests.”

  “The police tell me there was a fire. That place burned down.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Uh-huh. And as I remember it, you hung behind when we left. I wondered what you were up to.”

/>   “You’re imagining things.”

  “I don’t think so. And something else. It was all a waste of time, Mat. Trying to cover up evidence. All unnecessary.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I’ll tell you. Dorn Lattimore died ten minutes ago. Never regained consciousness.”

  DORN LATTIMORE stood in the middle of a burned-out house. Wisps of smoke crawled lazily upward from the ruins about him. But Dorn didn’t”care. He knew something had happened, but he didn’t care what nor how. He had only one thought in mind.

  He closed his eyes, concentrated, and opened them to the sound of rattling silver. He grinned, walked up to a table and said “Hello.”

  Sally whirled up from her chair. “Darling!”

  Dorn’s grin deepened. “Looks as though I finally made it, angel—made it for keeps. That damn laboratory burned down. I’ve got a hunch Limpus will give up now.”

  “Limpus has passed through the veil. Oh, darling! I’m so, glad to see you. I’ll get you a cup of coffee and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “Gosh—I want to kiss you,” Dorn said. “I never wanted to kiss anyone so badly in all my life.”

  “Go ahead-—I’ll try—”

  DORN SHOOK his head impatiently. “Let’s not go into that. And the hell with coffee. I want a drink. Have you ever had a drink, or do you live on java?”

  “Anything you say, darling.”

  They went to a cocktail lounge and took two Martinis off a passing waiter tray. They sat in a secluded corner and Dorn lifted his glass. “To you, angel.”

  “To you, darling.”

  They drank.

  “Let me tell you about Limpus. Just as he brought you back to life in that laboratory, he fell and broke his neck or something on the edge of the table. He passed through the veil immediately and I had a bad time with him.”

  “Wbat did he do?”

  “Nothing, really. His instincts died fast. But he was still odious, so I sent him away.”

  “Where did you send him?”

  “Oh, far far away. It will take him a long time to get back. I’ve a feeling we’ve seen the last of him.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel bad. Now, it’s just you and me.”

  “You and me,” Sally said dreamily. Then she looked up at Dorn with a strange light in Her eyes.

  “Dorn.”

  “Yes, angel.”

  “Kiss me.”

  “Huh?”

  “I said kiss me.”

  “Well, all right, but—”

  The next thing he said was, “Holy smoke.” A little while later he said, “Holy smoke,” again.

  Finally, they came up for air.

  “I liked that,” Sally said. “I liked it a lot. I can’t understand how I’ve been so stupid, so—so half dead.”

  Dorn glanced down at the empty cocktail glasses. “Do you suppose…?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  He took her close into his arms. “Darling, how do people get married on this plane?”

  Sally wrinkled her snub nose in thought. “I don’t know. I, guess they just consider themselves married. I don’t know of any other way.”

  “Wonderful, darling. I’m tired. Let’s go back to the Belford Plaza. Sort of a honeymoon.”

  THE NEXT morning they had breakfast in bed and Sally didn’t bother to pull up the sheet. Neither did Dorn. After breakfast they got dressed and went to Paris. It was a heavenly trip with lots of liquor sitting oh tables on the sidewalk.

  They stayed at the Hotel de Paree that night. The following morning Dorn said, “Darling, I guess I’m beginning to get the swing of things on this plane, starting to conform. I want to go to my funeral.”

  “I think that would be very nice. I’d like to go myself.”

  “Then we’d better get started.” They arrived in Stonegate just as the procession was drawing up in front of the church. Mourners in black were getting out of the cars behind the flower van.

  “Lot’s of flowers,” Sally said. “It’s a lovely funeral.”’

  “Let’s go inside and have a last look at me.”

  They went into the church and walked up the aisle. The casket stood before the altar rail, a line of silent people passing before it.

  “Funny,” Dorn said. “I don’t see Vicky or the children.”

  “Maybe she’s late.”

  They, moved toward the casket, stepped close, looked down at the still head on the white satin.

  Dorn gasped. “Holy John! It’s not me. It’s Felix.”

  There was an audible sigh. “Yeah, it’s me. How are you, Dorn?”

  “Felix! What on earth! What-happened to you?”

  “I passed through the veil. If you’re looking for your own funeral, you’re too late. They buried you yesterday. It was a hurry-up job.”

  “But you—How did it happen?”

  “My conscience had a lot to do with it. That nine thousand dollars I stole from you. It began to get me. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “Then why didn’t you put it back? Nobody would have known the difference.”

  “It was too late. I wanted to get rich and I bought a lot of stock—worthless stock.”

  “That was silly. Why didn’t you get my advice? I’m pretty smart when it comes to the stock market.”

  Sally pulled his sleeve. “Really, Dorn—”

  “Oh, that’s right. He couldn’t very well. But worthless stock didn’t kill—”

  Felix smiled. “I went for a ride in the country. As I said, my conscience was bothering me. I wasn’t paying too much attention to the road. It wasn’t suicide exactly—just carelessness.”

  Dorn pointed a finger. “Who’s that?”

  FELIX turned and drew a girl into the foreground. She had been standing rearward, partially behind him. She had an exceptionally bright aura. Felix smiled. He brightened perceptibly as he looked at the girl.

  “This is Molly. She found me walking down the street in sort of a daze. She took me under her wing, so to speak.”

  The girl smiled. She looked at Dorn and then at Sally. “Have you; been here long?” she asked of the latter.

  “About four years,” Sally said. “And you?”

  “Not quite that long.”

  Felix was holding her arm with an air of possession. He looked at Dorn and winked. Dorn regarded him pensively.

  “Do you two have any plans?” Sally asked.

  “None except to get better acquainted,” Felix said, as he put an arm around Molly’s waist.

  “We’re planning on going to Florida,” Sally said.

  “That will be nice.”

  “Well,” Felix said, “guess we’ll be running along. Maybe we’ll see you around.”

  “Hope so.”

  They turned away. Felix hesitated. “Dorn—you aren’t sore about the nine thousand, are you?”

  “Of course not, old man. Think nothing of it. Nothing at all.”

  “Thanks. Thanks a lot.” Felix winked again. “Guess I’ll be getting on with my romance.” They moved toward the door.

  “Life was never like this,” Felix called back gaily. Then they went out into the street.

  Dorn stood silent, looking. after them. Finally he said; “Poor Felix. He hasn’t found out yet. He’s due for a surprise.”

  “You mean about instincts?”

  “What else? Felix wouldn’t have found out yet. He’s a very slow, worker with figures that walk around. His specialty was figures you put on paper.”

  “Do, you suppose we ought to tell them about.. Martinis?”

  .Dorn shook his head. “No Angel. For all we know, it might be a sin. You wouldn’t want to lead them astray, would you?”

  “Of course not.”

  Sally smiled and hugged Dorn’s arm. “Darling—let’s go to Florida. You visualize. Visualize a palm tree. That, ought to do it.”

  Dorm visualized as directed, but it landed them in a cozy booth in the Tropical Club nex
t to a potted palm.

  Sally smiled happily. “You missed, darling. You’ll have to try again.”

  “Okay. But let’s have a Martini first.”

  So they did.

  THE END

 

 

  Paul W. Fairman, The Man Who Stopped at Nothing (1951)

 

 

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