Miss Callaghan Comes To Grief

The driver closed the drawer regretfully. “No, I ain't sure, but he always had the best girls; and she's a honey, ain't she?”

Phillips looked at Franklin. “You're wrong, Franky. Some of these girls had a bad time. Raven's girls had a terrible time. It's hick?minded to group them all together.”

“Who's this Raven you're talkin' about?” Franklin wanted to know.

Phillips exchanged glances with the driver. “So you don't know Raven?” he said. “Well, well! Where've you been all this time?”

Franklin sat down. “Okay, okay, I'll buy it, just so long as you'll stop this sissy talk about whores. Tell me.”

Phillips reached for a cigarette. “Raven was quite a boy,” he said, setting himself comfortably. “He came to this town about a year ago. As a matter of fact, one of our crowd, working on the old rag, first got on to him. It was odd how it started. Damned odd. If old Poison's wife hadn't gone off the rails, maybe Raven would still be operating right now. It happened this way....”

PART ONE

1

June 3rd, 11.45 p.m.

“TAKE ME OUT for a little drive, Gerry darling,” Mrs. Poison said as the music stopped.

Hamsley looked at the big bulk of wrinkled flesh and was appalled.

“It's such a very, very hot night, isn't it?” she went on, walking across the ballroom floor. “It'll be nice out in the car”she gave his arm a little pat“with you.”

Hamsley wiped his face with his handkerchief. “Yes, Mrs. Poison,” he said.

He knew what was coming. He'd seen it coming for the last week. He had a sick feeling inside him as he followed her steady march across the floor. He could see people looking at him and smiling to each other.

As he went past the band the conductor said something he didn't hear. He knew what it was, and it made him sicker than ever. At the door he tried to persuade her to stay. It was like pushing the sea back with his hands.

It was dark outside, cool after the heat of the ballroom. They stood on the top step, trying to pierce the darkness.

Mrs. Poison put her hand on his arm. He could feel her trembling. “Isn't it wonderful?” she said. “My, my, it makes me feel young again.”

Automatically he said, “Don't talk such nonsense. You're a young woman.” She and the other old women paid him to say things like that.

“You mustn't tell untruths. I'm not young, Gerry, but I'm not old. I'm in the best years of my life.”

Hamsley shuddered.

Out of the darkness a two?seater slid up to them. The young mechanic got out quickly and stood holding open the door. Hamsley felt completely trapped. She'd arranged everything.

The mechanic winked at him and made a sign with his hand. Hamsley climbed in beside Mrs. Poison, ignoring him. He could have wept with shame.

He said desperately, “It's cold out here. You sure you won't catch cold? Maybe we ought to get back.”

“Oh no!” She gave a giggling little laugh. “It's cold now. But we'll be warm soon.”

There, she had said it. He knew beyond any doubt now. His hand shook as he engaged the gears and let the clutch in with a jerk. “Where shall we go?” he said, driving the car slowly into the road.

“Go straight. I'll tell you.” She leant against him. He could feel her soft hot body pressing into his shoulder.

He drove down the road for a couple of miles, then she told him to turn off to the left. He could hear the tyres bite into the dirt road, and the trees overhead blotted out the sky.

She said suddenly in a hoarse voice, “Stop.”

He pretended not to hear. His foot pressed down on the accelerator.

She said in his ear, “Gerry darling, I said stop. I want to talk to you.” At the same time she reached forward and turned the ignition key. The car slid to a standstill.

Hamsley stared into the night, holding the wheel tightly in his hands.

Neither of them said anything for a moment.

“Gerry darling, you're a lovely looking boy,” Mrs. Poison said. Her hand touched his.

Hamsley moved away from her. “I'm glad you think so, Mrs. Poison,” he said. “I guess it's pretty kind of you to think that.”

He could feel her quick breath on his face. “Yes, Gerry, you're the handsomest boy I've ever seen. I don't know what Mr. Poison would say, but I could be very kind to you.”

Hamsley shuddered again. “Why, Mrs. Poison, I guess you're always giving me things. I guess you couldn't do any more.”

“There's one thing I haven't given you, Gerry.” Out of the darkness her voice sounded horribly harsh.

“Gerry, I'm crazy about you. I'm mad about you.”

She put out her hands and caught his head, pulling him towards her. She began to kiss him furiously. Her wet mouth made him want to retch. He suddenly pushed her away, his hands loathing the feel of her breasts.

He said, “No. I'm taking you back. I'mI'm not going to break up your home.”

She came at him again. “Don't be a fool!” she said harshly. “Come heredon't talk!”

He pushed her back more violently so that she thudded against the side of the car. He could see her staring eyes in the dashlight. She sat there heaving and panting, looking as if she could kill him. Then her mouth opened and a thin, reedy scream came out of the slack cavity that went through his head like red?hot wires.

He fumbled with the door?handle, pushed the door open, and got out of the car. He didn't say anything. He just wanted to get away from her. So he ran into the darkness, leaving her still screaming.

2

June 4th, 5.10 p.m.

JAY ELLINGER sat behind his battered desk and scribbled on his blotter. His hat rested on the back of his head and a cigarette dangled from his lips. His completed copy lay in a wire basket by his hand, and he was through for the day. He had nothing further to do, but he made no effort to leave the office. He just sat there scribbling and smoking.

The house phone buzzed and he looked at it without interest. “You're lucky, laddybuck,” he said, reaching out. “Two minutes, and you'd've missed me.” He scooped the receiver to his ear. A girl said, “Mr. Henry wants to see you.” Jay made a face. “Tell him I've gone home,” he said hastily.

“Mr. Henry said if you'd gone home I was to ring you.

“What's the trouble? Is there a big fire or somethin'?”

“You'd better come. Mr. Henry sounds awful mad.” She hung up.

Jay pushed his chair back and got up. Henry was the editor of the St. Louis Banner. He was a good guy to work for and he didn't often get mad.

As he walked upstairs to Henry's office Jay searched his mind to find any reason why he might be called on the mat, but he couldn't think of a thing. There was that little business about the extra expenses last week, but surely Henry wasn't going to crib about that. Maybe he was getting sore about the way Jay belted Mendetta in the Rayson trial, but then he'd passed the copy himself.

He shook his head. “Well, well, let's see what's bitin' the old guy.”