the garlic breath hadn't let go when his pal cracked me. I sat quietly in the chair. There wasn't a damned thing I could do. My mind went to all the times I'd seen it done in the movies. They did it fine there, and in books. The hero was always knocking hell out of three or four armed men. I even saw one movie where he took on eight at once. Franchot Tone, I think it was. I could lick hell out of eight Franchot Tones, armed or otherwise, but I couldn't do anything about the two toughs. Not without getting shot. I wanted to put off getting shot as long as possible. I closed my eyes. I thought, well, nobody will miss me, anyway.
CHAPTER NINE
I HEARD the car coming along the road. It was a few minutes I before sunrise and the sky was blue. I could sec the sky through the cracked window. There weren't any clouds. I had a funny feeling in my throat. I'd been close to death a lot of times before, but I'd never had so much time to think about it. I wished I'd made the break, shooting or no shooting. I would, anyway. The car came up in front of the shack. I heard the motor stop. I heard a woman's husky voice say: “Is he inside?”
“Yeah,” Pug said.
She came into the shack and stared at me, standing with a hand on her hip. The lantern and the cracked window made it light inside. Her hair was the colour of a bamboo fishpole, and she had on rouge and mascara, but underneath the paint her skin was good. She had on black slacks and a scarlet shirt and open sandals. She was beautiful. Pug scowled at me over her shoulder. Brother, I thought, this is the third-act curtain.
“So it's you,” she said.
I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.
She turned to Pug. “What's the idea of beating him up?” That question was like a kick in the belly. It knocked my wind out; I could hear it rush through my throat. She was going to play along with me. Pug said: “He had it coming.”
“You're going to have it coming,” she said. “He never told me he was a friend of yours until the last,” Pug said. The driver and the Armenian watched him. “You guys scram,” Pug said.
They went out. The Princess said to Pug: “We'll get another guy if you keep knocking off everybody who makes a grab for that redhead.”
“Get this,” Pug said. “Nobody grabs.”
“You get this. Another murder or two from you and they'll clamp down on the county.”
Pug looked thoughtful. I wondered if he'd told her about what happened at Papas's. “He's already done 'em,” I said. Pug scowled at me. She said “Yeah?” I told her about Caryle Waterman.
“Did you have to pick the richest guy in town?” she asked Pug.
“How'd I know he was in there?”
“You dope!”
“They won't pin it on me. I got an alibi.”
“A lot of good that'll do. The Governor won't care about that. He'll start a grand jury investigation and we'll have to close down. Then who'll pay you your dough on the first of every month? Not us. You'll probably have to take up bank robbing, or kidnapping, and then the G-men will grab you.” She was plenty sore. Pug didn't answer her. He stood scowling at me. He was wishing he'd shot me long ago. She said to him: “Now beat it.”
“All right.” He went to the door. “How'll you get back?”
“We'll ride, you damn fool. The walk'll do you good. It's only a couple of miles.” Pug said: “It's three miles.”
“All the more good it'll do you. Now beat it.”
“No.”
She slapped his face. It was a hard blow. His eyes got red with anger. Then he turned. “Okay.”
She laughed as he went out. She had liked hitting him. She went to the window. I got up and went to her.
“You shouldn't have done that,” I said.
“Why?”
“Now he'll have to kill me.”
“I don't get you.”
“No guy like Pug is going to stand for another man seeing a woman hit him. The slap was all right, but not my seeing it.”
“So what?”
“So he'll try to knock me off as soon as he dares.”
“Listen, honey,” she said. “You couldn't be in a worse spot than you were half an hour ago.”
That was true. I should bellyache about Pug. I looked out the window. The sun had come up. It looked like an orange. Pug and the others were walking across the field. She laughed.
“Those small time punks,” she said.
I stared at her. She looked pale in the light. I could see the curves of her shoulders and the rise of her breasts under the scarlet shirt. Her skin was white and soft-looking. She turned and looked at me. “Well...”
“Thanks.”
“I like big men,” she said.
