They Won't Believe Me Page #5

- I guess so.

- Fine.

This man will make out

the accident report.

Save you from going to the inquest.

We'll have to have

your name and address.

Lawrence Ballantine, box 43.

RFD 6, Tulare.

- Age?

- 34.

- Profession?

- Broker.

- What's next?

- His wife's name.

Greta Ballantine.

Tell us in your own way

just what happened.

I don't remember.

Just tell us what you know.

Well, we were traveling north.

And fast.

The truck swerved.

And tried to cut inside.

That jibes with the truck driver story.

He blew a tire.

Who was driving?

I was.

You sure it wasn't your wife driving?

Yes, I'm sure.

Why?

The way her body was, it looked

like she was at the wheel.

Of course we couldn't tell much.

Everything was burned.

She was burned?

This is about all that was left.

We found it wedged in the door.

Um. Where was I?

You sure your wife was driving?

Yes, I'm sure.

Greta was in the passenger seat.

Well that's that. Have him sign it.

Is that all?

As far as I know.

When can I leave?

Well, that's up to the doc. Good luck.

I cleared the first barrier easily.

Greta was on the record

as a brass wedding ring and

a handful of charred bones.

Now I had to keep her there

to get the money.

There was only one possible slip-up.

Greta could have left the ranch.

One person would know.

Thomason.

Gee whiz, I didn't expect

to see you, Mr. Ballantine.

Hey there. You look kind of shaky.

You been out to the ranch?

No. But I reckon

everything's been all right.

Even with her gone.

Gone? What you mean, gone?

- Now now. Take it easy.

- You saw her leave?

Look, I think you got her worse

than you know, Mr. Ballantine.

Why don't you sit down for a minute?

Not that I blame you for being upset.

She was a fine woman.

It seems untimely.

Her being killed like that.

So I guess it happened real quick.

Yeah... it did.

Real quick.

Is your truck here?

Why, sure. All fixed up. Ready to go.

- Come on. I'll drive you up.

- No. I want to go alone.

Naw naw. You'll need

somebody to fix some food.

And tie things up a bit.

- Just wait till I lock the store.

- I want to go now.

All right.

Nobody'll bother with the store.

Leave me alone!

There was one more possibility.

Her friend.

She might've gone to him for comfort.

But he was gone.

And then.

All at once, I knew where she was.

When I woke the next morning,

I didn't know where I was.

It was like waking up after a fever.

Everything was mixed up and unreal.

I called out for Greta.

When she didn't answer,

I got up to look for her.

Then I remembered.

Fate had dealt the ones

from the bottom of the deck.

But I'd evened things up.

I had the money.

The funniest thing was...

how well it turned out.

The ashes were shipped east

and buried there as Greta's.

The coroner's jury turned in a

verdict of accidental death.

And nobody bothered at all about Verna.

I got a loan against the estate.

And went to South America.

But the gayer the city,

the worse I felt.

Lima, Rio, Buenos Aires.

I kept looking for a quieter place.

Trinidad, Costa Rica. Finally, Jamaica.

I stayed almost a month in Kingston.

Eating alone, swimming

alone, walking alone.

Feeling like one of the

seabirds I used to see

flying over the beach at dusk, crying.

There is only one place I like.

By some rocks.

A sea pool of dark green water.

I'd watch it for hours,

remembering another pool.

Gradually, I began to feel

that it might be for me

what the other had been for Greta.

Then one day, at lunch in the hotel,

fate opened a brand-new deck of cards.

Attention, please. Attention.

Our automobile will leave the hotel

in 15 minutes. 15 minutes.

I must request you not to be late.

As some of you, especially you younger

folks seem to have a habit of doing.

Uh. Oh. Not that I blame you.

Hello, Larry.

What are you doing here?

Seeing the Caribbean.

16 days for $270.

I just wanted to say

I was sorry to hear about Greta.

Thanks.

If there's anything I can do to...

There isn't.

Well... All right.

Goodbye.

- Charlie?

- Yes, sir.

What does a guy do around

here when he's bored?

Have you tried horseback riding, sir?

I'm sick of horses.

What about deep-sea fishing?

I've been.

There's golf or tennis.

A pineapple juice, please.

- Alone?

- Temporarily.

I guess I was pretty rude this noon.

Mm-hmm.

I'm sorry.

It's all right. I think I understand.

You have a date for dinner?

I'm meeting with some friends.

Well, that's too bad.

Maybe we could have lunch

tomorrow if you're free.

- I think it can be arranged.

- Well.

After lunch the next day, things

seem to arrange themselves.

Janice left her tour.

Each day, we cruised offshore

from daybreak to dusk.

We trolled for sailfish in the

clear green waters off Kingston.

I think it was a sort of compensation

for what we'd lost in New York.

I didn't know then, relaxed

and happy in the sun,

that I wasn't the fisherman.

I was the bait.

When her vacation ended, we flew

back to Los Angeles together.

We arrived in the morning.

I expected to be upset

coming home again.

But I wasn't.

I felt warming grateful,

walking arm in arm with Janice.

She had to report to her office

in Hollywood.

I had a room in my club downtown.

But we'd arranged to meet

that evening at her hotel.

At seven.

I got there early, feeling like a

high school boy on his first date.

- That'll be 45 cents.

- That'll be fine.

- Need anything else?

- No Thanks.

- Miss Janice Bell, please.

- 127.

- Shall I announce you?

- No. She's expecting me.

Straight down the corridor

and to your right.

Thanks.

Can I help you?

Never mind.

Come in.

Sorry to bother you.

But it couldn't wait.

It's all right. I'm not busy till seven.

Did you find him in Kingston?

Wondering about the big hotel

like a lost soul.

Did he suspect anything?

I pretended I was on one of those

Caribbean tours that stop overnight.

I'm surprised I could

persuade him to come back.

It was touch and go

until the last minute.

I don't wonder.

In fact, I'm surprised you got

them to leave Verna at all.

Verna wasn't with him.

Not with him? Where was she?

I don't know. And I don't think he does.

That's incredible.

I'd have bet $100,000

she went with him.

Who confirmed Greta's death?

A detective went up from Los Angeles.

He examined the station wagon.

Talked to the truck driver.

Double checked the police record.

And reported

it was definitely an accident.

In an odd way, I'm almost glad.

You're not

falling in love with him again?

Would it be so wrong

if he hadn't done anything?

My dear, I can assure

you he's done something.

Two women don't vanish

on the same day just accidentally.

We've eliminated Mrs. Ballantine.

But there is still Verna.

She probably just left town.

I don't think so.

He had $72 coming. Almost 2 weeks pay.

I know Verna.

She had never let it go.

That was one below the belt.

And for a minute,

it had me on the ropes.

Hanging on in a kind of groggy panic.

Then I began to think.

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