'All right,' I said. 'I'm waiting.'
'This'-he gasped-'this won't get you anywhere, Pat.'
'Talk.'
'Don't talk,' said a voice behind me, and something hard and round and cold pressed against the back of my neck. 'Betcha I'll shoot if you don't get up from there, honey. Betcha.'
23
I dropped the glass and stood up, my hands raised. I turned around. She was grinning that cute crinkled grin, and her brown eyes were dancing with gay good humor.
'Whatsa matter, baby? Aren't ums glad to see mama?'
'God!' I said 'God Almighty!'
'Poor, poor baby. So sweet and trusting and obliging with Madeline… and all for a little petting. He didn't even get to sleep with her.'
'No,' I said. 'I didn't. I've got that to be thankful for at least.'
'Tsk, tsk,' she said, grinning again. 'Sour grapes, don't you think so, Bill?'
'Very sour,' said Hardesty.
He had risen from the floor and kicked the glass into the fireplace, and now he moved over to her side and put his arm around her.
She leaned against him, her crisp brown hair brushing against his neck. She took his hand into one of hers and raised it up and pressed it tightly against her breast.
'There,' she said, comfortably. 'Hold the gun, will you, Bill? It makes my li'l fingers tired.'
Hardesty took the gun and dropped it into his pocket. 'We won't need that,' he said. 'Pat's ready to listen to reason, aren't you, Pat?'
'Reason,' I said. 'Reason.'
'I'm sorry, boy,' he said, and he sounded like he meant it. 'Some things you can only do the hard way and this is one of them. You've never had a chance. You've been licked from the start.'
'So I see,' I said, dully.
'Doc knows you've been seeing Madeline. You were supposed to see her. You were bound to see that something was wrong, to be disturbed about it. It was Madeline's job to keep you from taking any action. Let you take it out in talk, more or less.'
'Never mind,' I said. 'I understand. I guess I've understood from the beginning. I just wouldn't let myself believe it was true.'
Madeline's grin faded. 'I didn't want to hurt you, Pat. I didn't want you to get hurt. I told you to see me before you did anything, and you promised you would. If you'd kept that promise, this wouldn't have happened.'
'I don't think you'd better say any more,' I said. 'I'm afraid if you keep on talking to me I'll try to kill you, and nothing will stop me but being killed. You don't want that. Yet. It would spoil your plans.'
Hardesty shook his head, sympathetically. 'We are sorry, Pat, believe me. I hope there's no hard feelings?'
'Over her?' I laughed shortly. 'All right, I'm going now.'
'Like another drink first?'
'No,' I said and I started for the door.
Madeline's voice stopped me.
'Wait, Pat! No, wait, this is business!… Bill, maybe we should tell him, now. That car, I'm worried about that. Doc shouldn't have bought it so soon.'
'You mean the one for-for Pat's birthday?' Hardesty made a gesture of disgust. 'Of course, he shouldn't have, but you know Doc. He's always got to be a jump ahead of everyone else, even if he jumps in the ditch.'
'But this is different. He wouldn't go in for gestures at a time like this. I've got a feeling that-'
'Nonsense. This Arnholt deal breaks tomorrow night. It'll take him at least a month to wind it up, follow it through the legislature and collect. How could he-he-'
Their eyes met, and he jerked his head at me. She nodded slowly.
'I suppose you're right. We'll be in a terrible spot if you aren't.'
'Of course, I'm right,' said Hardesty. 'Pat, I don't want to seem discourteous, but perhaps..
I heard a suppressed laugh as I went out the door… I drank a great deal of whiskey that night, and the more I drank the more sober I became. Around midnight, when the stuff was virtually running out my ears, I went into the bathroom and vomited for what seemed like
hours. When it was all out of me, I started drinking again and I kept on until I fell asleep.
In this fine house I went to bed drunk, with my clothes on, for the first time in my life.
24
A long hot and cold shower and a close shave did wonders toward pulling me together. Afterwards, I had one short drink and got the morning paper from beneath the door.
Eggleston's picture and a half-column story about him were on the front page. Since the dead man had not been robbed, it was believed that:.. the private detective, long a familiar figure in divorce court proceedings, may have unearthed secrets which someone- probably a client-felt it unsafe for him to know. 'I'm almost certain that our tall red-haired stranger and the murderer are the same man,' Det. Lt. Rube Hastings declared. 'Probably he only intended to throw a scare into Eggleston. Judging by his actions, I'd say that was what he had in mind. He walked up to the office, fearing perhaps that the elevator operator might want to accompany an after-hours caller. But he didn't mind being seen by the operator, as he would have if he'd contemplated murder.
'Something made him decide that he'd have to kill Eggleston, or perhaps he lost his temper. Then he realized that he'd have to get the body out of the building. The time of death could be approximated, and his presence in the building could be established. The only solution was to remove the body and hide it.
'The facts that the murderer apparently was well acquainted with Eggleston and feared identification prove that he is a local man who intends to remain here,' according to Hastings. He was unable to explain why a permanent resident of the city was driving a car with an out- of-state license, but…
He wouldn't be unable to explain very long. Not if he was only half as bright as this story made him out to be. This was Capital City. There were hundreds of cars here with official license plates, the white plates with the square S at each end. That cop last night had only got a glimpse of my plates, and he'd put them down as belonging to some other state. But he wouldn't be long in changing his mind, having it changed by Det. Lt. Hastings.
I got the wallet out of my trousers and counted the money it contained. Only nine dollars, but there was a hundred and fifty more in the drawer of my writing desk. Doc had said it would be right there until he could get time to go to the bank with me.
A hundred and fifty-nine dollars. I could travel quite a ways on that if I had to.
I took a look at the clock, scooped up the clothes I had worn the night before and put them in the closet. The elevator operator had
said I was wearing a dark suit-it was blue-black shoes-they were tan-and a gray hat-correct. I laid out a brown hat, a light gray suit, and
brown-and-white oxfords.
I finished dressing and picked up the paper again. Another front-page picture and story caught my eye:
PHALANX LEADER SPEAKS TONIGHT
