Recoil

'Went to a dentist one time to get a tooth pulled. Knew the one that needed pulling would hurt like hell, so I pointed out another one to him. Looks like you're about as smart as I was.'

I laughed. 'I'm not deliberately lying to you, Eggleston. There are people who would be hurt pretty badly if they knew I'd made an inquiry like this. I can't let them know that I have.'

'So?'

'About a month ago a certain party did me a very expensive favor. Since then I've received several others. I'd never met this party before, and I can't think of any way I could provide a return on the investment. Unless I've been insured.'

'Ask this party why he or she had done said favors?'

'Not a straight question. The implication was that they were pure philanthropy. That doesn't fit in with what I know about this party.'

He sat motionless, silent, staring down at his hands.

'I thought there might be some sort of underwriters' bureau that could give you the information,' I said. 'Without, of course, letting this party know that I'd asked.'

'Um,' he said. 'It'll cost you twenty dollars, Mr. Cosgrove.'

'That's reasonable,' I said, and I took out a twenty and laid it on the desk.

He lifted a foot slightly and dragged the bill under his heel.

'You're not insured, Mr. Cosgrove. Anything else?'

'Now, look,' I said. 'I paid for certain information-'

'Which you received, on very good authority. I've done a great deal of insurance work. No one has taken out a policy on you- providing you've told me the truth.'

'I've told it, but-'

'For one party to insure another, he must have what is known as an insurable interest. He must present reasonably good evidence that he has little or nothing more to gain by the insured's demise than he has by his continued existence. The insured's death must represent a sentimental loss, as in the case of husband and wife, a monetary one, or both. No one, it would appear, has an insurable interest in you…

Apparently he had little to do but sleep, and insurance was a hobby of his. He continued to talk for almost fifteen minutes, scarcely moving or altering the deep, soft monotone; covering every phase of the business that might possibly concern me.

At last he stopped, and I stood up.

'By the way, Mr. Cosgrove..

'Yes?'

'Anyone with the education which you ostensibly have should have known he wasn't insured. Anyone who gets around at all would know it.'

'Maybe I don't get around very much,' I said.

'My own thought.'

'From what I knew,' I said, 'I was pretty sure I wasn't insured, but I thought things might have changed recently.'

'Not that recently, Mr. Cosgrove. You're still a young man. You couldn't have been out of circulation very long.'

'Good-bye,' I said.

'Known the party about a month,' he droned. 'Did you a very great favor. And you're suspicious. Why don't you remove yourself from this party's vicinity? From the state, for that matter?'

I stopped and turned. He nodded drowsily.

'You can't leave, can you? So. Yes. You can't leave. I'm beginning to think you might have excellent grounds for your suspicions. Another twenty, please?'

I went back to the desk and laid a second bill on it. He raked it under his heel.

'How long were you in, Mr. Cosgrove?'

'Fifteen years of ten to life.'

'And you were unacquainted with the party who got your parole-bought it, shall we say?'

'That's right.'

'So are you, Mr. Cosgrove. You have good reason for alarm. A pardon could have been obtained as cheaply and easily. With a pardon you could have gone away-far out of your benefactor's periphery. He is not a philanthropist.'

'Good-bye,' I said.

'So.'

He nodded and seemed to fall asleep, and I left.

More information… which I didn't know how to use.

17

One of the worst things that prison does to a man is imbue him with the feeling that he is always in the wrong: that others may rightfully do what they will with him, while the things he does, through error or otherwise, are wholly inexcusable.

I felt that way about Doc, about the way he had seen Lila and me. I was certain by now that I was being forced to work against myself. I was sure that I owed him nothing, apologies included. Still, I did feel guilty. I did, and I couldn't help it.

I stayed away from the house until almost midnight that night, and got away early the next morning. By the evening of that day, some of my sense of guilt had worn off. I was still uneasy but I hoped, if he noticed the fact, he would attribute it to the business over the car.

I brought the subject up as soon as he stepped inside my room.

'Mmm,' he nodded, thoughtfully. 'I should have known that Myrtle would read the legal papers.'

'I appreciate it just the same,' I said.

'Don't mention it, Pat. We'll try to do better next year.'

He left after a quick drink with me. I flopped down on the bed, relieved, and hating myself for being relieved.

Willie came in to remove my dinner dishes, and I tried to tell myself that it was he, and not Doc, who had looked in on Lila and me. He would have been in the house while Doc would have had no reason to be there.

But I knew better than that. It had been Doc. He'd expected me to come there, because of the car. Probably he'd followed me from the sales lot. And when he'd seen Lila and me…

Why hadn't he reacted as he should, as the insanely jealous Doc I knew would have? Did he intend to settle with me later, when I was least expecting it? Or had he held off for purely practical reasons-because a blow-up would spoil the plan in which I played a part?

It could be either way or both. And it could be-I sat up on the bed, suddenly- it could be that Doc actually didn't care about his wife; that the jealousy was all an act!

I got up and paced the floor, excited, almost seeing the answer to the riddle.

It had been an act! Looking back now I could see the falsity of it; how badly it had been overplayed. Doc showing up, always at the most embarrassing moment. Lila haughtily dramatic, taunting him. Throwing whiskey in his face.

It had been rotten acting, but I had been taken in by it. I had been so impressed that I was afraid Doc might drop my parole. I'd told Hardesty that, hinted that I might skip out, and immediately the funny business had stopped. They didn't want me to leave. They'd wanted only to build Doc up in my mind as a certain type of person.

It all added up. Hardesty had told Doc howl felt, and Doc had told Lila to leave me alone. He'd followed me to the house the day before to reassure me in case Lila fell down on the job. And when he saw Lila apparently was doing more than all right he'd gone quietly away again.