This story, Bob tells me, first appeared in Mike Shayne magazine back in 1956 and hasn’t reappeared since 1957 so it probably isn’t known to many readers. “Yet,” he says, “I think it might interest buffs—since in it, I can now discover the germ of what later became Psycho.”
It was really all Roderick’s idea in the first place.
George Foster Pendleton would never have thought of it. He couldn’t have; he was much too dull and respectable. George Foster Pendleton, vacuum-cleaner salesman, aged forty-three, just wasn’t the type. He had been married to the same wife for fourteen years, lived in the same white house for an equal length of time, wore glasses when he wrote up orders, and was completely complacent about his receding hairline and advancing waistline.
Consequently, when his wife’s uncle died and left her an estate of some eighty-five thousand dollars after taxes, George didn’t make any real plans.
Oh, he was delighted, of course—any ten-thousand-a-year salesman would be—but that’s as far as it went. He and Ella decided to put in another bathroom on the first floor and buy a new Buick, keeping the old car for her to drive. The rest of the money could go into something safe, like a savings and loan, and the interest would take care of a few little luxuries now and then. After all, they had no children or close relatives to look after. George was out in the territory a few days every month, and often called on local sales prospects at night, so they’d never developed much of a social life. There was no reason to expand their style of living, and the money wasn’t quite enough to make him think of retiring.
So they figured things out, and after the first flurry of excitement and congratulations from the gang down at George’s office, people gradually forgot about the inheritance. After all, they weren’t really living any differently than before. George Foster Pendleton was a quiet man, not given to talking about his private affairs. In fact, he didn’t have any private affairs to talk about.
Then Roderick came up with his idea.
“Why not drive Ella crazy?”
George couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re the one who’s crazy,” George told him. “Why, I never heard of anything so ridiculous in all my life!”
Roderick just smiled at him and shook his head in that slow, funny way of his, as if he felt sorry for George. Of course, he did feel sorry for George, and maybe that’s why George thought of him as his best friend. Nobody seemed to have any use for Roderick, and Roderick didn’t give a damn about anyone else, apparently. But he liked George, and it was obvious he had been doing a lot of thinking about the future.
“You’re a fine one to talk about being ridiculous,” Roderick said. That quiet, almost inaudible way he had of speaking always carried a lot of conviction. George was handicapped as a salesman by his high, shrill voice, but Roderick seldom spoke above a whisper. He had the actor’s trick of deliberately underplaying his lines. And what he said usually made sense.
Now George sat in his five-dollar room at the Hotel LeMoyne and listened to his friend. Roderick had come to the office today just before George left on his monthly road trip, and decided to go along. As he’d fallen into the habit of doing this every once in a while, George thought nothing of it. But this time, apparently, he had a purpose in mind.
“If anyone is being ridiculous,” Roderick said, “it’s you. You’ve been selling those lousy cleaners since nineteen forty-six. Do you like your job? Are you ever going to get any higher in the company? Do you want to keep on in this crummy rut for an other twenty years?”
George opened his mouth to answer, but it was Roderick who spoke. “Don’t tell me,” he said. “I know the answers. And while we’re on the subject, here’s something else to think about. Do you really love Ella?”
George had been staring at the cracked mirror over the bureau. Now he turned on the bed and gazed at the wall. He didn’t want to look at himself, or Roderick, either.
“Why, she’s been a good wife to me. More than a wife—like a mother, almost.”
“Sure. You’ve told me all about that. That’s the real reason you married her, wasn’t it? Because she reminded you of your mother, and your mother had just died, and you were afraid of girls in the first place, but you had to have someone to take care of you.”
Damn that Roderick! George realized he never should have told him so much in the first place. He probably wouldn’t, except that Roderick had been his best—maybe his only—friend. He’d come along back in ’44, in the service, when George had been ready to go to pieces completely.
Even today, after all those years, George hated to remember the way he’d met Roderick. He didn’t like to think about the service, or going haywire there on the island and trying to strangle the sergeant, and ending up in the stockade. Even so, it might have been much worse, particularly after they stuck him in solitary, if he hadn’t met Roderick. Funny part of it was, Roderick had become his intimate friend, and heard everything about him long before George ever set eyes on him. Roderick had been down in solitary, too, and for the first month he was just a voice that George could talk to in the dark. It wasn’t what you’d call the best way in the world to develop a close friendship, but at the time it kept George from cracking up. He had someone to confide in at last, and pretty soon he was spilling his guts, his heart, his soul; telling things he hadn’t even known about himself until the words came out.
Oh, Roderick knew, at right. He knew the things George had carefully concealed from everyone—the kids back in school, the guys in the army, the gang at the office, the card-playing friends and neighbors, even Ella. Most especially Ella. There were lots of things George wouldn’t dream of telling Ella, any more than he would have told his mother, years ago.
Roderick was right about that. Ella did remind George of his mother. And when his mother died, he’d married Ella because she was big and took care of him, and the way it worked out it was she who made most of the decisions. As a child he’d been taught to be a good little boy. Now he was a good little salesman, a good little potbellied householder, a fetcher-home of Kleenex, a mower of lawns, a wiper of dishes, a wrapper of garbage. Twelve years of it since the war. And if it hadn’t been for Roderick, he never could have stood it.
Could he stand another twelve years of it? Or twenty, or thirty, or even more?
“You don’t have to put up with it, you know,” Roderick murmured, reading his thoughts. “You don’t have to be mommy’s boy any longer. This is your big chance, George. If you got rid of the house, you’d have over ninety thousand in cash. Suppose you settled down on one of those little islands in the Caribbean. There’s dozens of them, according to the travel guide I saw on your desk in the office today.”
“But Ella wouldn’t like that,” George protested. “She hates hot climates. That’s why we’ve never traveled south on vacations. Besides, what on earth could she do down there?”
“She wouldn’t be going,” Roderick answered patiently. “She’d stay here. That’s the whole point of it, George. You could live like a king there for a few hundred a month. Have a big house, all the servants you want. Plenty to drink. And the girls, George! You’ve heard about the girls. Every color under the sun. Why, you can even buy them down there, the way those old Southern planters used to buy slaves. Quadroons and octoroons and mulattoes—probably can’t even speak a word of English. But you wouldn’t have to worry about that. All you’d want is obedience, and you could have a whip to take care of that They’d have to do anything you wanted, because you’d be their master. You could even kill them if you liked. The way you’d like to kill Ella.”
“But I don’t want to kill Ella,” George said very quickly, and his voice was quite loud and shrill.
Roderick’s answering laugh was soft. “Don’t kid me,” he said. “I know you. You’d like to kill her, the same way you’d have liked to kill that sergeant back on the island, but you can’t because you’re chicken. And besides, it isn’t practical. Murder is no solution to this problem, George, but my way is. Drive Ella crazy.”
“Preposterous.”
“What’s preposterous about it? You want to get rid of her, don’t you? Get rid of your job, get rid of taking orders from a wife and a boss and every stinking customer with ninety bucks for a cleaner who thinks he can make you jump. And here’s your chance. The chance of a lifetime, George, sitting right in your lap.”
“But I can’t drive Ella insane.”
“Why not? Take a look around you, man. It’s being done every day. Ask the lawyers about the sons and daughters and in-laws of people who have money, and how they get the old folks put away in the asylum. Getting power of attorney from grandpa and grandma—things like that, Don’t you think a lot of them help the deal along a little? You can drive anyone crazy, George, if you plan.”
“Ella isn’t the type,” George insisted. “Besides, anything I did—don’t you think she’d know about it and see through it? Even if I tried, it wouldn’t work.”
“Who said anything about you trying?” Roderick drawled. He seemed very sure of himself, now. “That’s my department, George. Let me do it.”
“You? But—”
“I wouldn’t fool you. It’s not merely a beautiful gesture of friendship. I want those West Indies, too. We can go there together. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, George? The two of us down there, I mean, where we wouldn’t have to be afraid of what we did, what people would say or think? I could help you, George. I could help you get hold of some of those girls. Do you remember that book you read once, about the Roman Emperor, Tiberius—the one who had the villa on the island, and the orgies? You told me about some of those orgies, George. We could do it, you and I.”
George felt sweat oozing down the insides of his wrists. He sat up. “I don’t even want to think of such things,” he said. “Besides, what if you got caught?”
“I won’t get caught,” Roderick calmly assured him. “Don’t forget, Ella doesn’t even know me. I’ve steered clear of your friends all these years. I’m a free agent, George, and that’s our ace in the hole. You’ve always treated me like a poor relation, never introducing me or even mentioning my name. Oh, I’m not complaining. I understand. But now that little situation is going to come in handy. Let me think things out, work up a plan.”
George bit his upper lip. “Ella’s too sensible,” he said. “You’d never get her upset.”
Roderick laughed without making a sound. “Nobody is really ‘sensible,’ George. It’s just a false front, that’s all. Like the one you’ve built up.” He was suddenly quite serious again. “Think about it. How many people would believe you were capable of even talking to me the way you have just now, let alone of carrying out any such ideas? Would your boss believe it? Or Ella, even? Of course not! To the world, you’re just another middle-aged salesman, a Willy Loman type, only worse. A spineless, gutless, chicken-hearted, yellow-bellied coward. A weak-kneed sissy, a little panty-waist, a mommy’s boy, a—”
“Shut up!” George almost screamed the words, and then he was on his feet with his sweat-soaked hands balled into fists, ready to smash at the voice and the face, ready to kill...
And then he was back on the bed, breathing hoarsely, and Roderick was laughing at him without making a sound.
“You see? I knew the words to use, all right. In one minute I turned you into a potential murderer, didn’t I? You, the respectable suburban type who’s never gotten out of line since they shoved you into the stockade.
“Well, there are words for everyone, George. Words and phrases and ideas that can churn rage, trigger emotion, fill a person with incoherent, hysterical fear. Ella is no different. She’s a woman; there’s a lot of things she must be afraid of. We’ll find those things, George. We’ll press the right buttons until the bells ring. The bells in the belfry, George. The bats in the belfry—”
George made a noise in his throat. “Get out of here.”
“All right. But you think over what I’ve said. This is your big opportunity—our big opportunity. I’m not going to stand by and see you toss it away.” Then he was gone.
Alone in his room, George turned out the light and got ready for bed. He wondered if there was a threat hidden in Roderick’s last words, and that startled him. All his life George had been afraid of other people because they were violent, aggressive, cruel. At times he could sense the same tendencies in himself, but he always suppressed them. His mother had made him behave like a little gentleman. And except for that one terrible interlude in the service, he had always been a little gentleman. He’d kept out of trouble, kept away from people that could harm him.
And Roderick had helped. He’d gotten out of the army at the same time George did, settled down in the same city. Of course, he didn’t really settle down, inasmuch as he had no wife or family and never kept a regular job. Still, he seemed to get by all right. In spite of his hand-to-mouth existence, he dressed as well as George did. And he was taller and leaner and darker and looked a good ten years younger. It often occurred to George that Roderick lived off women—he seemed to be that type, always hinting of sexual conquests. But be never volunteered any information about himself. “What you don’t know won’t hurt you,” he’d say.
And George was satisfied with the arrangement, because as a result he could talk about himself. Roderick was the sounding board, the confessional booth, the one person who could really understand.
He’d drop in at the office from time to time when George was free, and sometimes he’d ride along with him for a day when George went out of town, or in the evenings when he called on prospects. After a few perfunctory overtures, George stopped trying to get Roderick to meet his wife. And he’d never mentioned Roderick to her—mainly because of the circumstances of their having been in the stockade together, and George had never dared tell Ella about that. So Ella didn’t know about Roderick, and somehow this made everything quite exciting. Once, when Ella had gone down to Memphis for her mother’s funeral, Roderick consented to move in with George at the house for two days. They got violently and disastrously drunk together, but on the third morning Roderick left.
It was all very clandestine, almost like having a mistress. Only without the messy part. The messy part was no good, though it might be different if you were on one of those islands and nobody could see you or stop you and you owned those girls body and soul; then you could have a whip, a long black whip with little pointed silver spikes at the end, and the spikes would tear the soft flesh and you would make the girls dance and little red ribbons would twine around the naked bodies and then—
But that was Roderick’s doing, putting such thoughts into his head! And suddenly George knew he was afraid of Roderick. Roderick, always so soft-voiced and calm and understanding; always ready to listen and offer advice and ask nothing in return. George had never realized until now that Roderick was as cruel as all the rest.
Now he had to face the fact. And he wondered how he could have escaped the truth all these years. Roderick had been in the stockade for a crime of violence, too. But the difference was that Roderick wasn’t repentant. Repentance wasn’t in him—only defiance and hatred, and the terrible strength that comes of being untouched and untouchable. It seemed as though nothing could move him or hurt him. He bowed to no conventions. He went where he pleased, did what he pleased. And apparently there was a streak of perversity in him; obviously he hated Ella and wanted George to get rid of her. If George had listened to him tonight…
The little vacuum-cleaner salesman fell asleep in his sagging bed, his mind firmly made up. He was finished with Roderick. He wouldn’t see him any more, wouldn’t listen to any of his wild schemes. He wanted no part of such plans. From now on he’d go his way alone. He and Ella would be safe and happy together…
During the next few days, George often thought of what he’d say to Roderick when he turned up, but Roderick left him alone. Maybe he’d figured out the situation for himself and realized he’d gone too far.
Anyway, George completed his trip, returned home, kissed Ella, helped supervise the installation of the second bathroom, and finished up his paperwork at the office.
Being on the road had left him feeling pretty tired, but there came a time when he just had to catch up with his prospect list here in town, so he finally spent an evening making calls. Since he was just plain fagged out, he violated one of his rules and stopped for a quick drink before he began his rounds. After the first call he had another, as a reward for making a sale, and from then on things went easier. George knew he had no head for alcohol, but just this once a few drinks helped. He got through his customer list in a sort of pleasant fog, and when he was done he had several more fast shots in a tavern near the house. By the time he put the car in the garage, he was feeling no pain.
He wondered vaguely if Ella would be waiting up to bawl him out She didn’t like him to drink. Well, perhaps she’d be asleep by now. He hoped so, as he went up the walk and started to unlock the door.
Before he could tum the key the door opened and Ella was in his arms. “Thank goodness you’re here!” she cried. She was crying, George realized, and then he noticed that all the lights in the house were on.
“Hey, what’s the matter? What’s all this about?”
She began to gurgle. “The face, in the window—”
Alcohol plays funny tricks, and for a moment George wanted to laugh. Something about the melodramatic phrase, and the way Ella’s jowls quivered when she uttered it, was almost painfully amusing. But Ella wasn’t joking. She was frightened. She quivered against him like a big blob of Jell-o.
’’I had this awful headache—you know the kind I get—and I was just sitting in the front room watching TV with the lights off. I guess I must have been dozing a little, when all of a sudden I got this feeling, like somebody was watching me. So I looked up, and there in the window was this awful face. It was like one of those terrible rubber masks the kids wear for Halloween—all green and grinning. And I could see hands clawing at the window, trying to open it and get in!”
“Take it easy now,” George soothed, holding her. “Then what happened?”
Gradually he got it out of her. She had screamed and turned on the big overhead light, and the face had disappeared. So she’d turned on all the lights and gone around locking the doors and windows After that she’d just waited.
“Maybe we ought to call the police,” she said. “I thought I’d tell you about it first.”
George nodded. “Sensible idea. Probably was just what you thought—some kid playing a trick.” He was quite sober now, and thoughtful. “Which window did you see this through, the big one? Here, let me get a flashlight from the garage. I’m going to look for footprints.”
He got the flashlight, and when Ella refused to accompany him, walked across the lawn himself. The flower bed beneath the window was damp from a recent rain, but there were no footprints.
When George told Ella about it, she seemed puzzled. “I can’t understand it,” she said.
“Neither can I,” George answered. “If it was a kid, he’d probably have run off when you spotted him, instead of waiting to smooth out his tracks. On the other hand, if it was a prowler, he’d cover up his traces. But a prowler wouldn’t have let you see him in the first place.” He paused. “You’re sure about what you saw?”
Ella frowned. “Well…it was only for a second, you know, and the room was so dark. But there was this big green face, like a mask, and it had those long teeth...” Her voice trailed away.
“Nobody tried the doors or windows? You didn’t hear any sounds?”
“No. There was just this face.” She blinked. “I told you about my headache, and how I was dozing off, watching that late movie. It was all sort of like a nightmare.”
“I see.” George nodded. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe it was a nightmare?”
Ella didn’t answer.
“How’s the head? Still aching? Better take a couple of aspirins and go up to bed. You just had a bad dream, dear. Come on, let’s go to bed and forget about it, shall we?”
So they went to bed.
Maybe Ella forgot about it and maybe she didn’t, but George wasn’t forgetting. He knew. Roderick must be starting to carry out his plan. And this would only be the beginning...
It was only the beginning, and after that things moved fast. The next afternoon, George was sitting in the office all alone when Ella called him from the house. She sounded very excited.
“George, did you tell the plumbers to come back?”
“Why no, dear, of course not.”
“Well, Mr. Thornton is here, and he said they got a call to come over and rip everything out again. I don’t understand it, and I’ve been trying to explain that it’s some kind of mistake and—”
Ella sounded very upset now, and George tried to calm her down. “Better put him on, dear. I’ll talk to him.”
So Ella put Mr. Thornton on and George told him not to bother, there was a mixup somewhere. And when Mr. Thornton got mad and said there was no mixup, he’d taken the call himself, George just cut him off and got Ella back on the wire.
“It’s all taken care of now,” he assured her. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll be home early.”
“Maybe you’d better get something to eat downtown,” Ella said. “I’ve got such an awful headache, and I want to lie down for a while.”
“You go ahead,” George said. “I’ll manage.”
So George managed, but if Ella lay down, she didn’t get very much rest.
George found that out when he got home. She was quivering, her voice and body trembling.
“Somebody’s trying to play a trick on us,” she told him. “The doorbell’s been ringing all afternoon. First it was Gimbel’s delivery truck. With refrigerators.”
“I didn’t order a refrigerator,” George said.
“I know you didn’t, and neither did I.” Ella was trying to hold back the tears. “But somebody did. And not just one. They had four of them.”
“Four?”
“That’s not the worst of it. Some man from Kelly’s called and asked when I was going to move. They’d gotten an order for a van…”
“Let me get this straight.” George paced the floor. “How did they get the order?”
“Over the phone,” Ella said. “Just the way Mr. Thornton did. That’s why I thought at first you might have called.” She was sniffling now, and George made her sit down.
“So you said,” George told her. “But I asked Mr. Thornton about that. He happened to take that particular call himself. And he was quite positive the caller was a woman.”
“A woman?”
“Yes.” George sat down next to Ella and took her band. “He claimed he recognized your voice.”
“But George, that’s impossible! Why, I never even used the phone once today. I was lying down with my headache and—”
George shook his head. “I believe you, dear. But who else could it be? What other woman would know that Thornton was the plumber who put in our bathroom? Did you mention his name to anyone?”
“No, of course not. At least, I don’t remember.” Ella was pale. “Oh, I’m so upset I can’t think straight.” She put her hands up to her forehead. “My head feels like its splitting wide open. I can’t stand it...” She stared at George. “Where are you going?”
“I’m calling Dr. Vinson.”
“But I’m not sick. I don’t need a doctor.”
“He’ll give you a sedative, something for that head of yours. Now just calm down and relax.”
So Dr. Vinson came over, and he did give Ella a sedative. She didn’t mention anything about the calls, so he only went through a routine examination.
But afterward, when she was asleep upstairs, George took Dr. Vinson aside and told him the story—including the part about the face in the window.
“What do you think, Doc?” he asked. “I’ve heard about such things happening when women start going through change of life. Maybe—”
Dr. Vinson nodded. “Better have her call my office for an appointment later in the week,” he said. “We’ll see that she gets a complete checkup. Meanwhile, don’t let yourself get upset. It could be somebody’s idea of a practical joke, you know.”
George nodded, but he wasn’t reassured.
The part that really bothered him was the business about Ella’s voice being recognized over the phone.
Next morning he left early, and Ella was still asleep. Down at the office he called Gimbel’s and then Kelly’s. After much confusion, he was able to locate the clerks who had taken the orders. Both insisted they had talked to a woman.
So George called Dr. Vinson and told him so.
No sooner had he hung up than Ella was on the phone. She could scarcely speak.
A man had come from the Humane Society with a Great Dane. A West Side furrier, somebody Ella had never heard of, drove up with samples of mink coats—mink coats in July! A travel agency had kept calling, insisting that she had asked for information about a flight around the world. Her head was killing her; she didn’t know what to do; she wanted George to phone the police and—
She broke off in the middle of her hysterical account, and George quickly asked what was happening. A moment later he realized he could have spared himself the question. The sound of what was happening was clearly audible over the wire: he recognized the hideous wailing.
“Fire engines!” Ella gasped. “Somebody called the Fire Department!”
“I’ll be right home,” George said, hanging up quickly.
And he went right home. The trucks were gone by the time he arrived, but a lieutenant was still there, and a detective from the Police Department. Ella was trying to explain the situation to them, and it was a lucky thing George was on hand to straighten things out. He had Ella go upstairs, and then he told the men the story.
“Please,” he said. “Don’t press any charges. If there’s any expense, anything like a fine, I’ll be glad to pay it. My wife is under doctor’s care—she’s going to have a complete examination later in the week This is all very embarrassing, but I’m sure we can straighten things out…”
The men were quite sympathetic. They promised to let him know what the costs would be, and the detective gave George his card and told him to keep in touch in case there was anything he could do.
Then George got on the phone and squared things with the Humane Society, the furrier, and the travel agency. After that he went up to Ella’s bedroom, where he found her lying on the bed with all the shades pulled down. He offered to fix her something to eat, but she said she wasn’t hungry.
“Something’s happening,” she told him. “Somebody’s trying to harm us. I’m frightened.”
“Nonsense.” George forced a smile, “Besides, we’ve got protection now.” And then, to cheer her up, he told her that the detective had promised to put a watch on the house and tap the telephone.
“If there’s anybody pulling any funny business, we’ll catch him,” George reassured her. “All you have to do is rest. By the way, Dr. Vinson said it would be a good idea if you stopped in for a checkup towards the end of the week. Why not call him for an appointment?’’
Ella sat up. “You told him?’’
“I had to, dear. After all, he’s your doctor. He’s in a position to help if—”
“If what?”
“Nothing.”
“George. Look at me.” He didn’t, but she went on. “Do you think I made those calls? Do you?’’
“I never said so. It’s just that Thornton claims he recognized your voice. Why would he want to lie about a thing like that?’’
“I don’t know. But he’s lying. He must be! I never called him, George. I swear it! And I didn’t call anyone this morning. Why, I was in bed until almost noon. That sedative made me so dopey I couldn’t think straight.”
George was silent.
“Well, aren’t you going to say something?”
“I believe you, dear. Now, try and get some rest.”
“But I can’t rest now. I’m not tired. I want to talk to you.”
“Sorry, I’ve got to get back to the office and clean up my desk. Don’t forget, I’m leaving town again tomorrow.”
“But you can’t go now. You can’t leave me alone like this!”
“Only for three days. You know, Pittsville and Bakerton. I’ll be back by Saturday.” George tried to sound cheerful. “Anyway, the police will keep an eye on the house, so you needn’t worry about prowlers.”
“George, I—”
“We’ll talk about it again tonight. Right now, I’ve got a job to attend to, remember?”
So George left her weeping softly on the bed and went back to his office. But he didn’t pay much attention to his job.
Roderick was waiting for him when he came in.
The other salesmen were out that afternoon, and there was no one else near the hot, stuffy little back-room cubicle George used for an office. He and Roderick were all alone, and Roderick spoke very softly. George was glad of that, at least, because he wouldn’t have wanted anyone to hear the things Roderick told him. Nor, for that matter, would he have cared to have been overheard himself.
The moment he saw Roderick he almost shouted, “So it was you, after all!”
Roderick shrugged. “Who else?”
“But I told you I didn’t want any part of it, and I meant it!”
“Nonsense, George. You don’t know what you mean, or what you really want.” Roderick smiled and leaned forward. “You talked to this Dr. Vinson and to the detective. Did you mention my name?”
“No, I didn’t, but—”
“You see? That proves it. You must have realized who was responsible, but you kept silent. You wanted the scheme to work. And it is working, isn’t it? I have everything all planned.”
In spite of himself, George had to ask the question. “How did you manage to imitate her voice?”
“Simple. I’ve called her on the phone several times—wrong number, you know, or pretending to be a telephone solicitor. I heard enough to be able to fake it. She’s got one of those whiney voices, George. Like this. “I think I’ll lie down for a while. My head is killing me.” It was uncanny to hear Ella’ s voice issuing from those sardonically curled lips.
George’s heart began to pound. “You—you said you had plans,” he murmured.
Roderick nodded. “That’s right. You’re going out of town for a few days, I believe?”
“Yes. Tomorrow.”
“Good. Everything will be arranged.”
“What do you intend to do?”
“Maybe you’d better not ask that question, George. Maybe you ought to keep out of this completely. Just leave everything to me.” Roderick cocked his head to one side. “Remember, what you don’t know won’t hurt you.”
George sat down, then stood up again hastily. “Roderick, I want you to stop this! Lay off, do you hear me?”
Roderick smiled.
“Do you hear me?” George repeated. He was trembling now.
“I heard you,” Roderick said. “But you’re upset now, George. You aren’t thinking straight. Stop worrying about Ella. She won’t really come to any harm. They’ll take quite good care of her where she’s going. And you and I will take good care of ourselves where we’re going. That’s what you want to concentrate on, George. The Caribbean. The Caribbean, with ninety thousand dollars in our pockets. A little boat, maybe, and those long, moonlit tropical nights. Think about the girls, George—those nice, slim young girls. They aren’t fat and blubbery, always whining and complaining about headaches and telling you not to touch them. They like to be touched, George. They like to be touched, and held, and caressed, and—”
“Stop it! It’s no use. I’ve changed my mind.”
“Too late, George. You can’t stop it now.” Roderick was very casual, but very firm. “Besides, you don’t really want to stop. It’s only that you’re afraid. Well, don’t be. I promise you won’t be involved in this at all. Just give me three days. Three days, while you’re gone—that’s all I need.”
“I won’t go!” George shouted. “I won’t leave her! I’ll go to the police!”
“And just what will you tell them?” Roderick paused to let the question sink in. “Oh, that would be a fine idea, wouldn’t it, going to the police? Not on your life, George. You’re going out of town like a good little boy. Because this is a job for a bad little boy—like me.”
He was laughing at George now, and George knew it. Any further protest on his part would be useless, Still, he might have tried to do something about it if the boss hadn’t come in through the side entrance at that very moment Roderick stood up, crossed the room, slipped out the door and was gone.
And George, staring after him, realized that his last chance had gone with him.
Things seemed a little bit better that evening. Ella had had no further disturbances during the rest of the day, and as a result she was considerably calmer. By the time they had finished a makeshift supper and got ready for bed, both of them felt a trifle more reconciled to the coming separation.
Ella said she had phoned Dr. Vinson and made an appointment for Friday afternoon, two days hence. George, for his part, promised to call her faithfully every evening he was away.
“And if you need me, I’ll drive right back,” he told her. “I won’t be much more than a hundred miles away any time during the trip. Come on now, I’ll finish packing and we can get some sleep.”
So they left it at that. And the next morning, George was up and on the road long before Ella awakened.
He had a fairly easy day of it in Pittsville and finished his calls long before he had anticipated. Perhaps that’s why he started to worry; he had nothing else to occupy his mind.
What was it Roderick had said? What you don’t know won’t hurt you?
Well, that wasn’t true. Not knowing was the worst part of it. Not knowing and suspecting. Roderick had told him he had everything planned. George believed that, all right. And Roderick had told him he wouldn’t actually harm Ella. This part George wasn’t certain about; he didn’t know whether he could believe it or not. Roderick couldn’t be trusted. He’d proved it by the way he’d gone ahead with the scheme despite George’s protests. There was no telling what he might be capable of doing. After all, what did George know about the man? He might already be guilty of far greater crimes than the one he proposed.
George thought of Roderick with a knife, a gun, or even his bare hands... And then he thought of those same bare hands ripping away a dress, fastening themselves like hungry mouths on naked flesh. And he saw his face, like the face of one of those fiends in that old copy of Paradise Lost with the Doré etchings, the one his mother had owned.
The thought made his hands tremble, made his voice quaver. But he forced himself to be calm as he dialed the long-distance operator from his hotel room, put through the call to the house. And then he heard Ella’s voice, and everything was all right.
Everything was fine.
Yes, she could hear him. And no, nothing had happened. Nothing at all. Apparently, whoever had been playing those tricks had decided to stop. She’d been cleaning house all day. And how did he feel?
“Fine, just fine,” George said. And meant it. His relief was tremendously exhilarating. He hung up, suddenly jubilant. Ella was undisturbed, and that meant Roderick had been scared off after all.
George went down to the bar for a few drinks. It was still early, and he felt like celebrating. He struck up a conversation with a leather-goods salesman from Des Moines, and they hit a few of the local spots. Eventually his companion picked up a girl and wandered off. George continued on alone for quite a time, blacking out pleasantly every now and then, but always remaining under control; he liked the good feeling that came with knowing he was under control and would always behave like a little gentleman. He had the right to celebrate because he had won a victory.
Roderick had told the truth in a way; for a while George had been tempted to let the scheme go through. But he had changed his mind in time, and Roderick must have known he meant it. Now Ella was safe, and he was safe, and they’d be happy together. Ninety thousand dollars and an island in the West Indies—what a pipe dream! George Foster Pendleton wasn’t that kind of a person. And now it was time to find the hotel, find his room, find the keyhole, find the bed, find the whirling darkness and the deep peace that waited within it.
The next morning George had a hangover, and he was feeling pretty rocky as he drove to Bakerton. He made a few calls around noon, but just couldn’t seem to hit the ball. So in the afternoon he decided to call it quits, because he still had Friday to finish up there.
He went back to his room intending to take a late afternoon nap, but he slept right straight through. He didn’t wake up to eat supper or call Ella or anything.
When he woke up the next morning, he was surprised to find that Ella had apparently called him several times; he had slept right through the rings. But he felt good, and he was out making the rounds by nine.
He called Ella immediately after supper. Her voice was relaxed and reassuring.
“Did you go to the doctor today?” he asked.
She had seen Dr. Vinson, she told him, and everything was fine. He had checked her over thoroughly—cardiograph, blood tests, even head x-rays. There was nothing wrong. He’d given her a few pills for her headaches, that was all.
“Any other disturbances?” George asked.
“No. It’s been very quiet here.” Ella sounded quite calm. “When are you coming in tomorrow?”
“Around noon, I hope. Right after lunch.”
“Right after lunch,” Ella repeated. “I’ll see you then.”
“Good night,” George said, and hung up.
He felt very happy, and yet there was something bothering him. He didn’t quite know what it was, but there was an uneasy feeling, a feeling of having forgotten an important message. Like when he was a boy and his mother sent him to the store for groceries, and he couldn’t remember one of the items on the list
George sat there, holding the phone in his hand, and then he jumped when he heard the tapping on the door.
He got up and opened it and Roderick came into the room. He was smiling gaily.
“Always stay at the best hotel in town, don’t you?” he said. “Knew I’d find you here.”
“But what—”
“Just thought I ought to take a run over,” Roderick said “You’re coming back tomorrow, and I figured you’d better be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?”
Roderick stood in front of the mirror and cocked his head. “I’ve been working hard,” he told George. “But it’s paid off. Like I told you, all I needed was three days.”
George opened his mouth, but Roderick wasn’t to be interrupted.
“While you’ve been snoozing away here, I’ve been up and doing.” He chuckled. “No rest for the wicked, you know. Let me give you a quick rundown. Wednesday, the day you left I made a few calls in the evening. The first one was to the savings and loan people—they’re open Wednesday nights until nine, you know. I did the Ella impersonation and told them I wanted my money out as soon as I could get it. Talked to old Higgins himself. When he asked why, I told him I was planning on getting a divorce and going to Cuba.”
Roderick nodded to himself and continued, “Then I went around to the house and did the mask routine again. Ella was in the kitchen, drinking a glass of milk before she got ready for bed. When she saw me I thought she was going to jump right out of her skin. She ran for the telephone, and I guess she called the police. I didn’t wait around to find out.
“Yesterday I figured it might be best to keep away from the house, so I went through the telephone gag again. I talked to Higgins once more and told him I needed the money at once, because you were deathly ill and had to have an operation on your brain. That was a neat touch, wasn’t it?
“Then I talked to the bank, and after that I phoned a few stores and had them promise to make deliveries this morning. Just a few odds and ends—a piano, and two trombones from the Music Mart, and seventy-five dozen roses from the florist. Oh yes, as a final touch, I called Phelps Brothers and told them I wanted to stop in and look at a casket because I anticipated a death in the family.”
Roderick giggled over that one, almost like a naughty little boy. But his eyes were serious as he continued.
“Finally, I called that old goat, Dr. Vinson, and told him I wanted to cancel my appointment. He couldn’t quite figure out why until I told him I was leaving for Europe on a midnight flight. He wanted to know if you were going and I said no, it was a big surprise because I was going to have a baby over there, and you weren’t the father.
“After that, I went out to the house—but I was very careful, you understand, in case any cops should happen to be around. Lucky for me I’d anticipated them, because not only was there a prowl car parked down the street, but when I sneaked back through the alley and looked in the kitchen window, I could see this detective talking to Ella in the hall. So I got out of there. But it wasn’t necessary to do any more. I could see that. Ella looked like the wrath of God. I don’t imagine she’d had any sleep for two nights. And by today, word must have gotten around. Old Higgins in saving and loan will do his share of talking. So will Doc Vinson, and some of the others. And your wife will keep insisting to the police that she saw this face. Now all you have to do is go back and wrap everything up in one neat package.”
“What do you mean?” George asked.
“I imagine they’ll all be calling you. Your only job is to give the right answers. Tell them that Ella has talked about taking a lot of crazy trips. Tell them she wants to hide her money in the house. Tell Doc Vinson she’s afraid he wants to poison her, or attack her, or something. You ever hear about paranoid delusions? That’s when people get the idea that everybody’s persecuting them. Built up a yarn like that. You know what to tell Ella; she’s so confused now that she’ll go for anything you say. Mix her up a little more. Ask her about things she’s told you, like trading in the Buick for a Cadillac. She’ll deny she ever said anything like that, and then you drop the subject and bring up something else. A day or two—with a few more looks through the window at the mask—and you’ll have her convinced she’s screwy. That’s the most important thing. Then you go to Vinson with a sob story, have her examined while she’s scared and woozy, and you’ve got it made.” Roderick laughed. “If you could have seen her face…”
George shook his head in bewilderment. Why was Roderick lying to him? He’d talked to Ella Wednesday night and tonight, and she’d been quite normal. Nothing had happened, nothing at all. And yet here was Roderick, coming a hundred miles and boasting about all kinds of crazy stuff—
Crazy stuff.
Suddenly George knew.
Crazy stuff. A crazy scheme to drive someone crazy. It added up.
Roderick was the crazy one.
That was the answer, the real answer. He was more than cruel, more than childish, more than antisocial. The man was psychotic, criminally insane. And it was all a fantasy; he’d started to carry out his delusions, then halted. The rest of it took place only in his disordered imagination.
George didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to hear his voice. He wanted to tell him to go away, wanted to tell him be had just talked to Ella and she was okay, nothing had happened.
But he knew that he mustn’t. He couldn’t. Roderick would never accept such an answer. He was crazy, and he was dangerous. There had to be some other way of handling him.
All at once, George found the obvious solution.
“I’m all through here,” he said. “Thought I might drive back tonight. Want to ride along?”
Roderick nodded. “Why not?” Again the childish giggle. “I get it. You can’t wait, isn’t that it? Can’t wait to see the look on her fat foolish face. Well, go ahead. One good thing, you won’t have to look at it very much longer. They’re going to put her on ice. And we’ll have the sunshine. The sunshine, and the moonlight, and all the rest of it. The tropics are great stuff, George. You’re going to be happy there. I know you don’t like insects, but even they can come in handy. Take ants, for instance. Suppose one of these girls disobeys us, George. Well, we can tie her to a tree, see? Spread-eagle, sort of. Strip her naked and rub honey all over her. Then the ants come and…”
Roderick talked like that all during the drive back home. Sometimes he whispered and sometimes he giggled, and George got a splitting headache worse than anything Ella could ever have had. But still Roderick kept on talking. He was going to have Ella locked up. He was going to take George to the islands. Sometimes it even sounded as if he meant the island, the one where they’d been in the stockade. And he was going to do things to the girls the way the guards used to do things to the prisoners. It was crazy talk, crazy.
The only thing that kept George going was the knowledge that it was crazy talk, and if anyone else heard it they’d realize the truth right away. All he had to do was get Roderick into town, stall him on some pretext or other, and call in the police. Of course Roderick would try to implicate George in the scheme, but bow could he? Looking back, George couldn’t remember any slip-up on his part; he hadn’t actually said or done anything out of line. No, it was all Roderick. And that was his salvation.
Still, cold sweat was trickling down his forehead by the time he pulled up in front of the house. It must have been close to midnight, but the front room lights were still burning. That meant Ella was up. Good.
“Wait here,” George told Roderick. “I’m just going in to tell her I’m home. Then I’ll put the car away.”
Roderick seemed to sense that something was phony. “I shouldn’t hang around,” he said. “What if the cops have a stake out?”
“Let me check on that,” George said. “I’ve got an idea. If the cops aren’t here, you could give her one more taste of the rubber mask. Then I can deny seeing it. Get the pitch?”
“Yes.” Roderick smiled. “Now you’re cooperating, George. Now you’re with it. Go ahead.”
So George got out of the car and walked up to the front door and opened it.
Ella was waiting for him. She did look tired, and she jumped when she saw him, but she was all right. Thank God for that, she was all right! And now he could tell her.
“Don’t say a word,” George whispered, closing the door. “I’ve got a lunatic out in the car there.”
“Would you mind repeating that?”
George looked around, and sure enough he recognized him. It was the detective he’d talked to after the fire alarm was turned in.
“What are you doing here this time of night?’’ George asked.
“Just checking up,” said the detective. “Now what’s all this you were saying about a lunatic?”
So George told him. George told him and he told Ella, and they both listened very quietly and calmly. George had to talk fast, because he didn’t want Roderick to get suspicious, and he stumbled over some of his words. Then he asked the detective to sneak out to the car with him before Roderick could get away, and the detective said he would. George warned him that Roderick was dangerous and asked him if he had a gun. The detective had a gun, all right, and George felt better.
They walked right out to the car together, and George yanked open the door.
But Roderick wasn’t there.
George couldn’t figure it out, and then he realized that Roderick might have been just crazy enough to pull his rubber mask trick without waiting, and he told the detective about that and made him look around under the front windows. The detective wasn’t very bright; he didn’t seem to understand about the mask part, so George showed him what he meant—how you could stand under the window on this board from the car and look in without leaving any footprints. The detective wanted to know what the mask looked like, but George couldn’t quite describe it, and then they were back at the car and the detective opened the glove compartment and pulled something out and asked George if this was the mask he meant.
Of course it was, and George explained that Roderick must have left it there. Then they were back inside the house and Ella was crying, and George didn’t want her to cry so he said there was nothing to be frightened about because Roderick was gone. And she didn’t have to be afraid if somebody played tricks on her like imitating her voice, because anyone could do that.
The detective asked him if he could, and of course he could do it perfectly. He was almost as good as Roderick, only he had such a splitting headache...
Maybe that’s why the doctor came, not Dr. Vinson, but a police doctor, and he made George tell everything all over again. Until George got mad and asked why were they talking to him, the man they should be looking for was Roderick.
It was crazy, that’s what it was. They were even crazier than Roderick, the way they carried on. There were more police now, and the detective was trying to tell him that he was the one who had made the calls and worn the mask. He, George! It was utterly ridiculous, and George explained how he had met Roderick on the island in solitary and how he looked like the fiend in the Doré book and everything, and how he was a bad boy.
But the detective said that George’s boss had heard him talking to himself in the office the other afternoon and called Ella to tell her, and that she had talked to the police. Then when George went on his trip they’d checked up on him and found he drove back to town the night he got drunk and also the night he said he was sleeping in his hotel room, and that he was the one who had done it all.
Of course they didn’t tell him this all at once—there was this trip to the station, and all those doctors who talked to him, and the lawyers and the judge. After a while, George stopped paying attention to them and to that nonsense about schizophrenia and split personalities. His head was splitting, and all he wanted to do was get them to find Roderick. Roderick was the one to blame. Roderick was the crazy one. They had to understand that.
But they didn’t understand that, and it was George whom they locked up. George Foster Pendleton, not George Roderick the naughty boy.
Still, George was smarter than they were, in the end. Because he found Roderick again. Even though he was locked up, he found Roderick. Or rather, Roderick found him, and came to visit.
He comes quite often, these days, moving in that quiet way of his and sneaking in when nobody’s around to see him. And he talks to George in that soft, almost inaudible voice of his when George sits in front of the mirror. George isn’t mad at him any more. He realizes now that Roderick is his best friend, and wants to help him.
Roderick still dreams about getting his hands on all that money and going away with George to the Caribbean. And he has a plan. This time there won’t be any slip-ups. He’ll get George out of here, even if he has to kill a guard to do it. And he’ll kill Ella, too, before he goes.
And then they’ll travel on down to the islands, just the two of them. And there’ll be girls, and whips gleaming in the moonlight…
Oh, George trusts Roderick now. He’s his only friend. And he often wonders just where he’d be without him.