Once a Widow Read online

  “How long will we be there?” he asked cautiously.

  “Until September.”

  He was aghast. “Just us?”

  “Most of the time. Oh, perhaps we can have a few small parties. I’m tired of parties. All of my friends have met you now, and are simply burning with envy.” She kissed him passionately. “Won’t it be lovely?”

  “Yes,” he said dutifully.

  But it was deadly. By the end of the first two weeks he thought he’d go mad with boredom. He couldn’t get away from her. The mornings weren’t so bad, because he usually slept until almost noon, and she did not disturb him. At Erie Cliffs he found that she was an early riser and he sometimes pretended to be sleeping until she had dressed and left the bedroom. She did the shopping in the mornings, usually at the stores in Harbor City, sixteen miles away. This was fine with Richard. But she was always home in time for lunch and then it was nothing but talk, talk, talk until bedtime, and after. He felt trapped. He was sick of her. He admitted it. And there was no one else near the godforsaken place. Even the woman who came to clean the house twice a week was fat and spoke in a guttural Polish accent.

  The few times he had been free there had been no place for him to go, nothing to do, except for an afternoon in July when Karen had a dental appointment in Harbor City. Richard told her flatly that he did not feel like going with her. She had pouted, but when she saw that she could not persuade him, she gave him a curt smile and went alone. As soon as her white Cadillac had disappeared down the highway he took the yellow Corvette she’d given him for his birthday and drove to one of the public beaches east of Erie Cliffs. He picked up a girl there, a thin girl with metallic blond hair and red, red lips. It was easy, as usual, and the Corvette had helped, not that he needed the trim little sports car to complete his conquest. They wound up in a motel along the Marblehead road. The girl wasn’t much, but at least she was a change from Karen and well worth the few beers and hamburgers it cost him. She said she loved him and begged him to meet her the next day. He promised that he would, but forgot her as soon as he’d returned her to the beach; it seemed that her parents were very strict and funny about strange men bringing her to her home in Port Clinton.

  Karen was waiting for him, sulky because he’d gone away without her. He told her carelessly that he’d just gone for a drive around the island. Then he kissed her, stirred a pitcher of martinis and by the time they were ready to drive into Harbor City for dinner she was in a forgiving mood. Her cool fingers touched his cheek and she whispered in his ear that if he was a good boy she would welcome him to her bed when they returned to the house at Erie Cliffs. It almost ruined his dinner. And it was then that his plan for murder began to take form, even before he met and fell in love with Rose Ann Deegan.

  During the time at Erie Cliffs Richard Barry had noticed on several occasions that if Karen drank too many cocktails before lunch she would take a nap until late afternoon. And so, when it pleased his purpose, he saw that she consumed too much of whatever they were drinking that day—martinis, manhattans, old fashioneds, gin and tonics—and he pretended to drink with her. Then, after lunch, she would usually say apologetically, “Richard, I feel drowsy. I think I’ll take a little nap. Do you mind terribly?”

  “Of course not.” Sometimes he even kissed her, quite warmly. And she would totter to the bedroom. Then he would wash the dishes and dry them, clean up the kitchen. A dirty kitchen annoyed him, he didn’t know why, exactly. Maybe it was because his mother’s third floor flat in Sacramento had always been so littered and untidy, the beds unmade, the ashtrays overflowing and sticky unwashed dishes on the kitchen table. Then, after he was certain that Karen was asleep, he would take the Corvette and roam the countryside, thinking, thinking.

  It was on one of these afternoons that he stopped at a soft drink and ice cream drive-in for a Coke and saw Rose Ann Deegan for the first time. The girl who came out to his car was young, maybe twenty. Her small face held a fresh scrubbed look and her mouth curled little at the corners. She wore her black hair in a pony tail tied with a red ribbon, and a pale blue uniform hugged her slim waist, gently curving hips and tautly covered the swell of her breasts. She hooked a tray over the Corvette’s door, poised a pencil over a pad and said brightly, “Yes, sir?”

  “Double Coke, lots of ice.”

  She nodded, smiled, and returned to the open counter of the drive-in. Richard watched her with quickening pulse. She was just about the cutest babe he’d seen around here, he thought. When she returned with his drink he gave her his most friendly and engaging smile, turned on his full charm, which was considerable when he chose to exert it, and said, “Thank you.”

  She returned his smile, almost shyly. “You’re welcome. When you’re finished, just toot your horn.”

  “I’ll do that,” he said, as she moved away. She was certainly built, he thought appreciatively. Small, maybe, but he liked them that way. And she looked like class. “Hmmm,” he said softly to himself.

  Other cars drove in and as the girl served them, Richard sipped his Coke and watched her movements. When he had finished the drink he placed the glass on the tray, lit a cigarette and settled back to wait until the girl was free. Presently there was a lull and she moved to the counter. Richard gently sounded the horn and she came over instantly, as if she’d been expecting it. He placed a dollar bill on the tray and as she reached into a pocket of her uniform for change he smiled and said, “Keep it.”

  She pocketed the bill, said, “Thank you,” unhooked the tray and turned away.

  “Wait,” he said gently. “Please.”

  She paused and swung slowly, regarding him gravely. Her eyes were a soft brown and very clear.

  “How far is it to Sandusky?”

  “About twelve miles. You take the Bay Bridge.”

  “On this route?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thanks,” he said, still smiling. “What time are you off duty?”

  She smiled, too, but said, “I don’t think that concerns you.”

  “Don’t misunderstand, please,” Richard said quickly. “I’m on a vacation, all by myself. Frankly, I’m lonely. I hoped that maybe you could show me some of the sights around here.”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Why not? Give me one good reason.”

  She lifted small rounded shoulders. “I—I don’t know you.”

  “You will,” he said easily. “I’m not a bad guy, really.” He gazed at her earnestly and sincerely. “How about it?”

  “No, thank you. I—”

  A 1946 Ford sedan with a crew-cutted youth at the wheel drove in and stopped beside the Corvette. A plump blond girl wearing a white blouse and red shorts got out and the Ford zoomed away with a loud exhaust roar. The blonde said to the brunette, “You can take off now, Rose Ann, as soon as I change.” She walked swiftly toward the building.

  Richard Barry glanced at his wrist watch. Three o’clock. He grinned at the girl, who still stood uncertainly. “You’re off duty now,” he said. “Let me take you home.”

  She shook her head. “I have my own car.”

  “How about a ride, then?” He was about to suggest drinks and dinner, the works, but remembered that he should be back at the house before Karen woke up.

  “It’s kind of you, but I think not. Goodbye.” She turned, moved swiftly away, placed the tray on the counter and entered the building by a side door.

  Richard felt sudden anger, but controlled it. He drew on the cigarette and watched the building. The plump blonde came out wearing a pale blue uniform, went to the counter and picked up a pad and pencil. Two cars came in at the same time and the blonde became busy serving them, but Richard noticed that she kept watching him. He knew the reason; the little brunette had asked the blonde to let her know when he left. Well, he’d fool her, he thought grimly. He started the motor, swung out of the parking area and drove in the direction of Harbor City. If he’d guessed wrong as to the direction she would take, he’d watch in t
he other direction at three o’clock tomorrow.

  A half mile from the drive-in he turned off the road and stopped. In maybe five minutes he saw the car approaching in the rear-view mirror, an old convertible with the top down. As it passed he saw that it was a Plymouth and that the little brunette was driving it, her pony tail waving in the wind. He knew that she must have noticed the yellow Corvette at the side of the road, but she made no sign. He laughed softly, pulled out onto the road and followed her. This was a game he loved.

  On the fringe of Harbor City the Plymouth slowed and turned into a drive leading up to a big white house facing the lake and stopped. A sign on the front lawn read: Rooms by Day or Week. As Richard swung into the drive the girl was already out of the Plymouth and hurrying across the lawn toward the house, pretending to ignore the presence of the Corvette and Richard Barry. He saw that she was now wearing a sleeveless white dress and white low-heeled sandals. He got out of the car and started after her. “Wait,” he called. “Please wait a moment.”

  She stopped and turned. She didn’t speak.

  He stood before her. “What’s the matter with you?” he said, smiling. “I’m not a white slaver, honest. Are you married, or something?”

  She said evenly, “I think you’d better go away.”

  He felt the anger again, but he smiled and said curiously, “But why?”

  “I don’t know you. What do you want?”

  He spread his hands. “Of course you don’t know me—you said that before. How can you know me if I don’t tell you who I am? All I want is to talk to you, and—” He broke off abruptly and turned away. “To hell with it.” He moved toward his car, watching her from the corner of one eye.

  He had his hand on the door latch when he heard her say softly, “I’m sorry.”

  He turned slowly, knowing that he had won, and went up to her. “That’s more like it. My name is Richard Barry. What’s yours?”

  “Rose Ann Deegan,” she said gravely. “What do you want?”

  “I told you.” He bowed and flourished an arm toward the Corvette. “Be my guest.”

  “No, thank you,” she said, but smiled and added, “Not today.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  She shook her head.

  “Look,” he said gently, “I know that men probably bother you a lot at the drive-in, and if I’m bothering you now, I’m sorry. I’ll go away if you say so. It’s just that I’m lonely, as I said, and I, well, I liked you the minute I saw you.” He grinned at her. “Do you want to see my credentials?” He produced his wallet from a hip pocket of his cord slacks, flipped the compartments with a thumb. “It’s all there—driver’s license, car registration, home address, blood type.” He pocketed the wallet, closed his eyes, lifted his head and said in a droning voice, “Richard Hotchkiss Barry, single, six-foot-one, one hundred and ninety pounds, hair black, eyes blue, occupation sales representative.” He opened his eyes, lowered his head, and displayed his white even teeth in an engaging grin. “And very lonely. Just call me Dick.”

  She laughed, and her eyes were friendly. “All right, Dick. But the answer is still ‘No.’”

  “Tomorrow, then—maybe?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

  She hesitated, and then said, “Maybe.”

  “Fine. I’ll pick you up at three.” He knew that this was not the time to press his advantage.

  “I’ll think about it.” She moved toward the house. “I have to go now.”

  That was the way it had started, the affair between Richard Barry and Rose Ann Deegan, although it was never an affair in the usual sense of the word. Rose Ann was a virgin, and she intended to retain that status until she married. She fell in love with Richard Barry, and he with her. It was a shattering, bewildering experience for him. For the first time in his life he really cared for another person, as a person. He found pleasure in merely being with her, talking to her. Very strange, indeed. Their relationship was not without passion, far from it, but Rose Ann firmly drew the line. They talked of visiting her parents in Dayton, Ohio, but Richard was evasive; he had only three weeks vacation and he wanted to spend all the time he could with Rose Ann, alone. Plenty of time to meet her parents. In September she would return to college, where she was majoring in home economics. Her job at the drive-in was a summer one, to help pay her tuition, because her father could not meet the full cost on his salary as a second assistant production manager in a Dayton foundry.

  Rose Ann, who would be twenty-one on her next birthday in October, believed completely that Richard Barry was what he’d told her he was—a salesman for a Cleveland manufacturer of marine motors, which explained why he’d picked the Lake Erie resort area for his vacation. Business with pleasure. It also explained why he could very seldom see Rose Ann in the evenings; he was entertaining a prospective customer, or making a contact. He was ambitious, he wanted to get ahead, make a lot of money. Rose Ann said she understood, that she was proud of him.

  Their trysts were limited to the two hours between three and five in the afternoon, because Richard could not depend upon his wife sleeping past five. Rose Ann returned to duty at seven in the evening and worked until midnight, or after, depending upon business. Only twice had Richard dared to sneak out in the evening. Both times Karen had complained of restlessness, which, in view of her habitual afternoon naps, was understandable, and Richard had persuaded her to take some sleeping capsules. When she was asleep, he’d picked up Rose Ann at the drive-in, but it had been unsatisfactory. He was jittery, thinking of the scene with Karen if she awakened and found him gone, and Rose Ann was tired from her night’s work. They kissed hastily and embraced, and he wondered wildly what in hell had happened to him.

  As he was driving home from their second midnight meeting his plan for murder took sudden form. He’d been stupid not to think of it before. And he knew that he could not go on with Rose Ann, not like this. He wanted her badly. She was in all his thoughts. He was like a schoolboy in the throes of first love, which indeed it was for Richard Barry. Nothing in his life had prepared him for what was happening to him. With Rose Ann he was a different person, gentle, considerate, really happy for the first time in his life. It awed him that she loved him also, without guile or pretense. He was young, but he’d known many women, but none like Rose Ann.

  Richard’s love for Rose Ann did not change his character; it had merely added another facet to it. To him, unselfish love was something new. It troubled him a little, but he did not react as a normal man might have who had found himself hopelessly in love with a woman other than his wife. He never thought of divorce as a solution. That was for suckers. He wanted to continue to enjoy the life Karen had given him, but without Karen. He had decided that before he’d met Rose Ann, but she had fanned the flames. He still wanted Karen’s money, but he wanted Rose Ann, too. And time was running out. His “vacation” would soon be over, and he did not want to risk Rose Ann’s suspicion by inventing a reason for prolonging it. He’d lied to her too much already.

  Richard’s plan blossomed and bloomed. This was Thursday, he thought. He’d do it on Saturday, in the afternoon. He’d figured it all out, to the last detail, just as he had figured the jobs for Alex Kamin, except that this time he would not need the gun. He was glad, because for some odd reason he hated to think of using the magnum on Karen. It was hidden in the garage, and he must not forget to take it with him when he left Erie Cliffs after everything was over.

  He had told Rose Ann that he was staying at the Perry Hotel in Harbor City, and had taken a room in the hope that some afternoon she might accompany him there. He learned quickly that this was a vain hope, but kept the room for the short duration of his “vacation.” This was fortunate, because once Rose Ann had telephoned the hotel and left a message telling him not to pick her up at the drive-in because she had to work overtime. He called the hotel every morning, when Karen was out, to check on such things.

  On Friday afternoon he picked up Rose Ann and said immediately, “Honey, I’ve got to t
alk to you.”

  She smiled and patted his hand. “All right. Shoot.”

  “Not here. Let’s go to my room.”

  A small frown appeared between her smooth black brows. “Dick, please. We’ve been all over that.”

  “It’ll be all right, I promise. I’m tired of talking to you in the car, or in a joint with people all around. I just want to talk to you alone for once. It’s important.”

  She gazed at him gravely. “All right, Dick.”

  He drove quickly to the hotel.

  CHAPTER THREE

  When they were in his room he said, “Drink?”

  She shook her head and moved to the window. She was embarrassed and faintly uneasy, but pretending not to be. “What a lovely view of the lake,” she said.

  He phoned down for a double bourbon and soda and then went to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “I’ve got to go back to Cleveland in a few days,” he said.

  “I know. I’ve been thinking about it.”

  “I’ll be back, on week-ends.”

  “I—I hope so, Dick.” Rose Ann gazed out over the lake and listened to the pounding of her heart.

  “Do you love me?”

  “You know I do.”

  “When can we get married?”

  She moved beneath his hands, for just an instant. They had talked of marriage, obliquely, but he had never asked her directly like this. She trembled slightly and felt his steadying hands on her shoulders. “In the spring?” she said in a small faint voice, asking a question. “When I finish school?”

  “I can’t wait that long,” he said, knowing that he would have to wait at least that long. He couldn’t get married right away; it wouldn’t be smart. But he could be seeing Rose Ann, preparing her for the big house in Cleveland and all that went with it. She would forgive, him for deceiving her, for not telling her he was married when they first met. He had it all worked out; an unhappy marriage, his meeting Rose Ann, his love for her and his desire not to hurt her, the tragic accidental death of his wife. She would forgive him, after they were married.