‘Good riddance. You take it easy,’ and she went away.
Soon after five o’clock, she came into my room and dropped the evening paper on the bed. She looked pale and bothered, and she gave me a long, uneasy stare before she went out.
As soon as she had shut the door, I grabbed the paper.
The guard had died without coming out of his coma.
The paragraph was small beside the war headlines, but the words hit me like a punch in the face.
The police were still looking for a youngish man with a scar on his face: an arrest was expected at any moment.
As soon as it was dark, I told myself, I would get out. The thought of staying in this box of a room was hard to take, but I knew I didn’t dare go onto the streets as long as it was light.
Leaving the room, I went down the stairs to the pay booth and called Rusty.
It was good to hear the sound of his hard, rough voice.
‘I’m in trouble, Rusty. Wil you come over to my place when it’s dark?’
‘Who do you imagine is going to keep the bar open if I do that?’ he growled.
I hadn’t thought of that.
‘Maybe I could come to you…’
‘How bad is the trouble?’
‘As bad as it can be.’
He must have picked up the panic in my voice for he said soothingly, ‘Keep your shirt on. I’l get Sam to handle it. When it’s dark, huh?’
‘Not before.’
‘Okay. I’ll be over,’ and he hung up.
I went back to my room and waited. It was a long wait, and I was in a pretty bad way by the time the sun went down over the bay and the lights went on in the honky-tonk bars and on the gambling ships. At least there now seemed safety out there in the growing darkness.
A little after nine o’clock I saw Rusty’s Oldsmobile come around the corner, and I went down the stairs and had the front door open as he came up the steps.
We climbed the three flights of stairs in silence. It was only when he was in my room and I had shut the door that the tension in me eased a little.
‘Thanks, Rusty, for coming.’
He sat on the bed, his fat, blue jowled face shiny with sweat, his eyes anxious.
‘What’s the trouble? That girl?’
‘Yes.’
I picked up the evening paper and gave it to him, pointing to the paragraph with a shaking finger.
He read it, his face screwed up, his expression blank.
Then he looked up and stared at me.
‘For Pete’s sake! You didn’t do it, did you?’
‘No, but she did. I must have been out of my mind. I wanted five thousand dol ars for her cure. She told me we could find the money in the casting director’s office. I fel for it. We went out there, broke in, but there was no money. The guard caught me. She was behind the desk, out of sight. She shot him.’ I sat on the upright chair and hid my face in my hands. ‘I was against the wal , with my back turned to him. Listen. Rusty, I swear I didn’t do it.’
He put the paper down, took out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, shook one out into his large hand and lit it.
‘So you’re in trouble. Wel , I warned you, didn’t I? I told you she’d be a load of grief to you.’
‘You told me.’
‘Wel ? What are you going to do?’
‘I want to get out of here. I want to go home.’
‘That’s about the first sensible thing you have said since I’ve known you.’ He put his hand inside his coat and took out a shabby wallet. ‘Here you are: as soon as I heard the state you were in, I raided the till.’
He offered me five twenty dollar bills.
‘I don’t want al that, Rusty.’
‘Take it and shut up.’
‘No. Al I want is my fare home. It’l be ten bucks. I’m not taking any more.’
He got to his feet, cramming the bills back into his wallet.
‘You’d bet er not travel from L.A. Station. They may have the joint pegged out. I’l drive you to
’Frisco. You can get a train from there.’
‘If they stop us and find me with you…’
‘Forget it! Come on: let’s go.’
He went to the door and started down the stairs. Picking up my suitcase, I followed him.
In the lobby, Carrie was waiting.
‘I’m going home, Carrie,’ I said.
Rusty moved on into the street, leaving us together.
‘Here.’ I offered her my last two five-dollar bins. ‘I want you to have these…’
She took one of the bills.
‘That’ll take care of the room, Mr. Jeff. You keep the rest. You’l need it. Good luck.’
‘I didn’t do it, Carrie. No mat er what they say, I didn’t do it.’
Her smile was weary as she patted my arm.
‘Good luck, Mr. Jeff.’
I went out into the darkness and got into the Oldsmobile. As I slammed the door, Rusty shot the car away from the kerb.
II
We had been driving for ten minutes or so in silence, when I said, ‘It’s a funny thing, Rusty, but al I can think of now is to get home. I’ve learned my lesson. If I get away with this mess, I’m going to start my studies again. I’m through with this kind of life — through with it for good.’
Rusty grunted.
‘It’s about time.’
‘You heard her sing. She had a voice in a mil ion. If only she hadn’t been a junky…’
‘If she hadn’t been a junky, you would never have met her. That’s the way it is. If you ever see her again, you run for your life.’
‘I’ll do that. I hope I’l never see her again.’
We reached San Francisco around three o’clock in the morning. Rusty parked by the station while I waited in the car, he went to check on the trains.
When he came back, I could see he was worried.
‘There’s a train to Hol and City just after eight: eight ten,’ he said. ‘There are two cops at the booking office. Maybe they aren’t looking for you, but they’re there. You can by-pass them. I bought your ticket.’
I took the ticket and put it in my wallet.
‘Thanks. You leave me now, Rusty. I’l go and sit in a cafe and wait. I’l pay you back. You’ve been a real pal to me.’
‘You go home and settle down to a job of work. I don’t want the money back. You keep clear of Los Angeles from now on. The way to pay me back is to settle down and do a real job of work.’
We sat side by side in his car, smoking, dozing and talking while the hours crept by.
A little after seven o’clock, Rusty said, ‘We have time for a coffee, then you can get off.’
We left the car and walked over to a coffee bar. We had coffee and doughnuts.
The time came when my train was due. I took Rusty’s hand in mine and squeezed it.
