Girl Out Back - Charles Williams(7)

I looked at him quickly. He was still staring down at the
broom. Well, there was Sunday. I could tell him that was
when I’d been out there. Then I realized it was no use. Otis
knew I’d lied about Sumner Lake. But why was he trying to
tell me?
I made no reply. There appeared to be a shortage at the
moment.
“Uh, boss,” he went on hesitantly, “about that twelve
dollars a week you pay me. How much of that would you
say was for personal advice?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “You break it down.”
“Well, look. I won a prize once for minding my own
business. A whole new bedroom slipper—I think it was the
left one. You say the word and I’ll keep right on after the
other one.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “Spill it.”

“This Nunn is bad news. Believe me, boss. He’s hairy as
hell. This is a little out of my line, but I just figured you
might not know about him. He killed four men while he
was in the Sheriff’s office over there
“Oh,” I said. I saw it now. Otis thought I was making a
play for her. I sighed softly in relief. Well, it would look
that way. We’d been here alone when she came for the
motors, and then I’d taken off right after her. And she’d
been calling here for me.
“I guess that’s about all,” he said. “No offense intended.”
“Of course not,” I replied. “Thanks.”
Girl Out Back— 138
“Maybe I just got used to you. If something happens to
you, I got to go looking around for some other slave-driving
skinflint to exploit me.”
“I’d never forgive myself,” I agreed. I felt a lot better.
“Suppose you fell into some evil dive where they expected
you to work?”
“Sure,” he replied. You could see he was relieved, and
glad to be through with it. “Like I was telling the old lady
just this morning. Where else they got a pension plan that
you can retire and live free in the dog pound as soon as
you’re a hundred and five? I get this lump in my throat
every time I think about it.. . .”
We had it all settled without getting weepy about it. I
was to stay out of the sack with Mrs. Nunn. He went back
to sweeping. I checked yesterday’s receipts, made up the
deposit, and locked it in the safe. He’d given me a scare
there for a moment, but everything was fine. I knew,
though, that I was never going to feel entirely at ease until
I could clear out of here. Utterly harmless things would be
forever making me jumpy when I read the wrong meaning
into them. It’d happened twice so far this morning, and it
wasn’t nine o”clock. You had to be on guard all the time to
keep from giving yourself away. More than one badly
wanted man had been picked up by a cop who’d meant to
do nothing more than give him a parking ticket.
Fortunately, business was good, so I didn’t have too
much time on my hands. At ten I went over and made the
bank deposit and had a cup of coffee. When I returned a
local car salesman came in to talk about boats and try to
sell me a new station wagon.
I was up front alone just after eleven when the telephone
rang. Otis looked out the door of the shop, but went back
when he saw I was going to answer.
As soon as I picked up the receiver I was glad he had. It
was Jewel Nunn.
“Oh, how are you?” I asked, wishing she’d stop this.
Being killed by George Nunn would be carrying an alibi too
far.
“Are you busy?” she asked.
Girl Out Back— 139
“Well, fairly so.” If she thought I was going to drive down
to Hampstead she was crazy. “You running errands again
this morning?”
“No . . . I mean, nothing important. I just thought I’d give
you a ring while I was here at the drug store. There was
something I wanted to tell you. . . .”
“Sure,” I said. “Fire away.”
“I don’t think I ought to over the phone.”
“Hey,” I protested, “that’s not fair, getting my curiosity
all aroused. I wish I could get away, but I just don’t
see. . . .”
“Well, it’s not real important, anyway,” she said. “It’s just
about Mr. Cliffords. You remember . . .”
I went cold all over and I could feel a thousand needles
stabbing at my back. He couldn’t have been found yet;
even in water that warm his body wouldn’t float this soon.
What in hell did she mean?
“Cliffords?” I said, wondering if my voice was all right.
“Oh, yes, sure. The little man who reads comic books.
What’s he done?”
“It’s not anything much, really. And I don’t think I ought .
. .”
“Never mind about Cliffords,” I put in quickly. “I want to
see you. Can I, if I can get away?”
“Do you really want to?”
”Of course I do. Look. It may take me about an hour, but
I’ll be there. At the same place?”
“All right,” she said softly. “Good-bye, Barney.”
“Good-bye” I hung up and took a deep breath. Relax, I
thought. Don’t start walking up the walls. They couldn’t
have found him this soon. And what if they have? It doesn’t
make a bit of difference. Anyway, it’s just some silly thing
she remembered about him.
I went back and leaned against a bench and watched Otis
while he worked on a motor. Every minute was like ten. I
wanted to yell at him to go on and get his lunch and hurry
back. It was a quarter to twelve before he put down the
tools and started scrubbing his hands.
Girl Out Back— 140
He finally left. I prowled the showroom, unable to sit
still. It was twelve fifteen when he came back. I stooged
around for a few minutes and then announced boredly I’d
go get something myself and stop in at the post-office on
the way back. I was doing seventy-five when I passed the
city limits.
After I made the turn on to the road to Javier I met no
other cars. That was good, anyway. I hoped she hadn’t
given up and left. It had been nearer an hour and a half. I
swung into the ruts going off through the pines. Her car
was parked under one of the big trees by the little stream.
The door was open and she was sitting behind the wheel
dressed in something crisp and blue, facing outward with
her knees crossed. For one of the few times in my life I was
too tense and too hurried to give a well-made leg the
critical approval it deserved.
She smiled a little shyly and stood up. She was really
nice-looking, and it always helps when you’ve got good
material. I took both her hands in mine and said, “I don’t
know how you do it. You’re always even lovelier than I
remembered.”
“Now, Barney. Remember. . . .”
I smiled gently. “All right. I’ll try harder this time.”
“It is nice to see you again.”
“You’re not making it any easier,” I said chidingly. I
wanted to shout at her. When in hell was she going to get
to Cliffords?
She sat back down on the seat and slid over. I got under
the wheel and started to move toward her but she shook
her head, not too severely. Well, there always had to be a
certain amount of that. Oh, the devil with that. Who cared
a damn? How soon could I bring up the subject of Cliffords
myself, if I had to?
“We can just talk, can’t we?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “As long as I can look at you.” I put a finger
under her chin and turned her face toward me. “I bet
you’ve had a lot of experience doing that.”
“No.”
“Yes.” She smiled. “You do it too well.”
“Tell me what you’ve been doing since I saw you last.”
Girl Out Back— 141
“Not anything very interesting. ...” She stopped abruptly,
and then went on. “Mr. Cliffords! I almost forgot about
him.”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s right. What about him?”
She glanced down at her hands, a little abashed. “Barney
. . . I hope you won’t think I just used that for an excuse to .
. . to . . .”
I smiled at her. “Of course not, you lovely little goose.
But what about Cliffords?”
“It’s the craziest thing you ever heard of,” she said. “He’s
been arrested by the F.B.I.”
Girl Out Back— 142
Fourteen
Say something, I thought. Do something. Don’t just sit
here; she’s staring at you. Look, maybe she’s the one who’s
crazy. Maybe she dreams up things like that, and you’re
supposed to make some remark like, ”Well, I never. . . .”
We were in nine feet of water. At least nine feet, and he
lost consciousness, and was sinking to the bottom. . . .
“Arrested him:” I asked stupidly, “Why?”
“I told you it was crazy,” she said calmly. “You’ll never
believe it. You remember a man named Haig that held up a
bank, a year or so ago? He got away with a lot of money,
and then they lost him.”
A flight of jet planes roared around inside me, and any
moment they would fly out through the top of my head.
Maybe they would light up and spell out something.
“I think I read about it.” I could hear myself going on
with the conversation, and I sounded all right. “But what
did Cliffords have to do with that?”
“He had the money,” she explained with the serene logic
of the utter lunatic. “How he got it is kind of a long story,
but anyway they found it out and arrested him.”
“Let me get this straight,” I interrupted. “You mean the
F.B.I, told you they’d arrested . . .”
“No,” she said calmly. “Mr. Cliffords told me.”
Girl Out Back— 143
They tapped the frame then. All the little pieces turned
over and the picture was there entire, complete down to
the last brush stroke. Even as I felt myself going numb. I
had to admit there was a terrible sort of beauty about it
that was fascinating. Cliffords had sent me to the electric
chair, and the way he had done it was consistent and
utterly predictable if you knew him. He was proud of being
arrested by the F.B.I.
So I had heard a motor start.
“Tell me about it,” I said. It didn’t seem to make much
difference now, but it would be interesting to learn what
she was doing up there. I didn’t have anywhere to go,
anyway. Even thinking about trying to run was farcical.
“Could I have a cigarette?” she asked.
“Sure.”
We each took one, and I lit them.
She smiled at me with a kind of shy delight above the
flame of the lighter and said, “This is the funniest thing,
actually. I mean . . . I never really thought I’d ever get to
know you.”
“Know me?”
“Umh-umh. The first time you ever saw me was when I
came in to get those motors, I guess. But I’ve seen you lots.
Around Wardlow, I mean. I spend the night there once in a
while with this friend of mine—she’s really my second
cousin. And a friend of hers used to work for you. Barbara
Renfrew. She’s the prettiest thing, isn’t she?”
“I guess so,” I said. I was going back to being crazy
again. Nothing made any difference, really. Somehow
Barbara Renfrew had wandered into this chase sequence
and we were all going around like a clip out of a Laurel and
Hardy movie—Haig, the F.B.I., Cliffords, and somebody’s
second cousin. No, it was really two different stories. This
taffy-maned screwball had a girlish crush on me or
something, and wanted to get in line if I was no longer
laying Barbara Renfrew. No wonder the poor girl had quit,
I thought. Maybe they even thought Otis was sleeping with
me. Well, why not? He thought I was with her. This one, I
meant.
Girl Out Back— 144
“And I think your wife is absolutely gorgeous,” she went
on,
“When will she be back?”
I gave up then. The only thing to do was go back and
start over. Then, suddenly, my mind began to clear again
and I saw something I had overlooked before. At best, it
was the most tenuous wisp of hope imaginable, but I
reached out for it desperately. She had said she thought
Cliffords was a little off his trolley.
”Oh,” I said. “She’s supposed to be back some time this
week. But about Cliffords. When did he tell you all this?”
“Yesterday evening, up at his cabin.”
“And he’d already been arrested?”
“Yes. That’s right. And that’s when he told me why. I
mean, about the money.”
I stared at her unbelievingly. “You mean he was under
arrest at the time? And these F.B.I, men just stood there
and let him tell you all about it? I thought a prisoner wasn’t
allowed to talk to anybody but his lawyer. . . .” Here was
old Barney Blackstone again.
“No,” she replied. “There was only one F.B.I, man, and
he wasn’t really there. He’d hurt his leg when they were
out there digging up the money, and Mr. Cliffords was
making him a crutch.”
“Then you didn’t see him at all?”
“No. I was only there a few minutes.”
“Oh,” I said. “Cliffords just told you he was under arrest?
But he was wandering around alone.”
“That’s right, Barney. You see, he had to take the crutch
and some bandages out there where the F.B.I, man was
hurt. He couldn’t walk.”
“Oh,” I said again, frowning. “Well, I suppose. . . . Aw, I
don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I was thinking of what you told me about him. That he
was a little—you know. He might have just dreamed it up.
Or got it from one of those comic books.”
“No,” she said. “He was telling the truth, all right.”
Girl Out Back— 145
“How do you know he was?
“I saw the man’s coat there on the bed, when we went in
to wrap up the fish. And Mr. Cliffords showed me some of
the money, in a paper bag.”
Well, it was a good try, I thought. But it wouldn’t have
worked, anyway; she didn’t have to be able to prove it. Just
whisper it down a well. Roughly half the F.B.I, agents in
the State would be down there looking for Cliffords in
another few hours. The other half would be looking for me.
If they weren’t already.
“What were you doing up there?” I asked. We might as
well talk; that’s what we’d come out here for.
She puffed on the cigarette and tapped ashes out of the
window. “Well, sometimes when I do an errand for him I
take the stuff on up there, just for the boat ride and to get
away from that camp for a few minutes. And then, he pays
me.”
So that’s why she had had that other twenty.
“And George and I’d had a—well, a fight. He’d gone off
to town. That was a little while after I’d got back from
Exeter. I had to get away from the place or go crazy.
Maybe I was a little scared, too; he can be pretty mean
sometimes, and I didn’t want to be there when he came
back if I could help it. So, anyway, when it was late in the
afternoon and Mr. Cliffords still hadn’t come down to get
his glasses. . . .”
“Glasses?”
She nodded. “The poor old soul can’t read a word
without ‘em. He’d dropped his old ones and one of the
lenses had come out. He thought he had a spare set, but
when he went to look . . .”
I closed my eyes. They could kill you, but did they have to
do this first?
“. . . anyway, he found out he’d lost the spare ones so he
came down Monday morning and asked me if I’d pick him
up another set in Exeter. You remember, when I called you
that was where I was going. They have his prescription
there at the Berg Brothers.”
You had to admit it. Purely as a work of art it was
perfect. There wasn’t a flaw, or a superfluous brush stroke.
Girl Out Back— 146
It had all the cold and functional beauty of a cobra coiled
to strike.
“What did George think about it?” I asked.
“Oh, he doesn’t know about it yet. Unless he heard it in
town.”
I kept my face perfectly still. “You mean you didn’t tell
him?”
She shook her head. Her eyes were moody. “No. We had
a fight, like I told you. We haven’t spoken since”
Don’t hope yet, I thought. I was almost afraid to breathe.
“How about the other people you told? The ones who knew
him, I mean? I bet they were surprised to know he had that
money all the time.”
“The people in Hampstead wouldn’t know him,” she said.
“I haven’t told anybody but you.”
I was limp, and wanted to put my head and arms down
on the steering wheel and just rest. But what now? There
was no way I could stop her from telling somebody else,
and the instant she breathed one word of it anywhere in
this country swarming with F.B.I, agents. . . . Was I any
better off? It was just slower this way, prolonging the
agony. No. No, no, no. I had to turn her off some way. But
how? I couldn’t ask her not to say anything about it. She
wasn’t that stupid. She’d guess.
Well. I’d stopped Cliffords, hadn’t I?
Jesus Christ, no. Not that. Not ever again. . . . I’d rather
go on and get it over with. Not this kid. . . . She trusted me.
She practically followed me around because she thought I
was something special.
Well? Hadn’t Cliffords? Are you all right, Mr. Ward?
Stop it, I thought. I felt sick.
“Didn’t he come home at all last night?” I asked.
“Yes. But it was late.”
Then he didn’t even know she’d been up there at all.
Wait. . . . The warning bell was ringing in my mind. It was
something she’d said. “—to wrap up the fish.” That bass!
That big bass Cliffords had caught, the one I thought he’d
thrown back into the lake.
Girl Out Back— 147
“You said something a minute ago,” I prompted her.
“Something about a fish. What did that have to do with it?”
“Oh. It was a great big thing Mr. Cliffords had caught.
He insisted on me taking it. He said George might like to
have it mounted to put in the lunch-room.”
Well, we were back where we started.
“Didn’t George ask you where it came from?”
She shook her head. “I guess I wasn’t very nice. I didn’t
want to take him any fish. But I couldn’t hurt the old man’s
feelings. When I got down to the lake I threw it away.”
I couldn’t take much more. This yo-yo routine was too
rough.
There was something else that didn’t jibe, too, but maybe
it didn’t matter. Cliffords had said he’d phone her from the
jail to collect his stuff and sell some of it. But she’d just
been there. Why hadn’t he told her then; Probably didn’t
think of it until she’d gone, I thought.
“Does George know where you are now?” I asked. “I
mean, does he know you came to Hampstead?”
She shook her head. “He’s up the lake. Guiding for a
man.”
In other words, it was now or never. Nobody knew where
either of us was.
Why? I thought in agony. Why did they do it; Both of
them—Cliffords, and now this kid—cut you off at every
turn. You’d think they had spent a year studying the
precise moves to back you into a spot from which you could
not escape without killing them. They insisted on it; they
left you no choice at all.
I had to do something. I couldn’t sit here all day trying to
make up my mind.
“Barney,” she said quietly, “I get afraid of him when he’s
like he was last night. He thinks there’s something
between us. We know there’s not, but . . .”
But there could be. She might as well have said it.
Then, suddenly, I got it. The whole thing solved itself at
once. Of course I couldn’t do anything to her, even if I
were able to bring myself to do it. There was another
reason. Nunn suspected us; so did Otis. If anything
Girl Out Back— 148
happened to her, the police would pick me up for
questioning within hours.
But if you merely turned it around, it fell right into place
for me. It was made to order. All I had to do was get her
out of the country. Today. Now, before she had a chance to
speak to one other living person. Run away with her. Sure,
they’d know we had gone together, but that just made it
better. Wouldn’t that answer all Ramsey’s questions at
once, if he had any? I didn’t know anything about Haig’s
money; all I’d been doing was chasing some other man’s
wife.
I turned and gave her a long, somber look. “Do you mean
that?”
“What, Barney?”
“About being afraid of him?”
“I don’t know really. But . . .
“You’ve got to leave him,” I said. “We’re going away
together.”
She stared. “We—we can’t do that.”
I caught both her arms. “Today,” I said harshly. “You’re
not going back there at all. If he ever hurt you I’d kill him.”
“Barney, you’re squeezing my arms . . .”
I turned them loose and dropped my head contritely. “I’m
sorry,” I said. I took a deep breath and exhaled it shakily,
still looking down at my hands clenched in my lap. “I—I’ve
got to tell you something, Jewel. You’ve never been out of
my mind since that first minute I saw you. Wait. . . . I know
how crazy it sounds. Of course it’s been only a little over a
week. But don’t you see? Time has no meaning any more. It
would be the same in five minutes, or a thousand years.”
“Barney . . .”
“Let me finish, please. I’ve got to tell you this. I see you
everywhere I turn. I lie awake at night seeing you. I pass
women on the street that are tall, or have eyes almost that
same . . .” gray, I thought, “. . . sea-mist shade of gray, or a
little gesture of the hand, or a line somewhere, or one
random fragment of grace that reminds me of you, and
then you’re all around me. It’s so terribly real I could
almost reach out and touch you. Do you know what that’s
like, or how long you can stand it?”
Girl Out Back— 149
I glanced up at her then. I was in, all right. You could see
it in the hushed and tremulous expression and the softness
of the eyes as she studied my face. From here on it was
only a mopping-up operation.
“I love you, Jewel,” I said. I kissed her, and her arms
went up about my neck, clinging fiercely. I kissed the
closed eyelids, and moved my lips across her cheek to
whisper in her ear, “Darling, darling. Oh, darling. . . .”
* * *
“But, Barney, we’ve got to take time to think. This is all so
fast.”
“There’s nothing to think about. We’re going away this
afternoon. Look. We’ll go to Florida. We can both get
divorces there, and we’ll be married. I’ve got some money
of my own, and I’ll get a job. You’ll be out of that swamp,
where you can wear decent clothes, and be around
people.”
She stirred a little in my arms. “All right, Barney. I know
it’s wrong, but I guess I can’t help it either. I’ll go with you
anywhere.”
You’re wonderful.”
“Do you want me to meet you in Sanport? I could take
the bus.”
“No,” I said. “I don’t want to be away from you that long.
We’ll go together. We’ll go back to town and I’ll cash a
check, and put my stuff in the car.”
She pushed a little away from me and glanced up. “But
I’ll have to pack. . . .”
“I don’t want you to take anything. I want to buy you
everything new. And choose it all myself.”
“But there are some pieces of jewelry my mother gave
me. And pictures. Things I’ve got to take.”
I thought swiftly. She probably wouldn’t leave without
the usual flotsam and sentimental rubbish women always
clung to with such mulish perversity. At least, not without
an argument that would take longer than going after them.
“You’re sure he’s up the lake?” I asked. “There’s no use
having a nasty scene or maybe a fight.”
Girl Out Back— 150
She nodded. “He’s fishing with some man. It’ll only take
me a few minutes to pack what I want to take. Do you want
me to meet you here?”
“I’ll go with you,” I said.
“You don’t have to.”
“From now on,” I said, “you go nowhere without me, you
tawny-haired angel.” At least, not till we got out of this
country. “And, besides, we could leave your car there.”
“All right,” she said.
She drove fast. I stayed close behind her. We met no one
at all on the road, but after we made the turn-off and were
down in the bottom almost to the camp we had to pull over
for a car that was coming out. There was a man in it alone,
and he wore a long-visored fishing cap. I frowned, not
caring much for it. But she should know whether or not
that was the man he was guiding, and she continued on. I
followed.
We came around the last bend and into the clearing. It
was quiet and deserted except for a late model Ford
parked near the cabins. She stopped, and I turned around
so I’d be headed out toward the highway.
When we got out I nodded toward the Ford. “Is that his
car? The man he’s fishing with?”
She looked doubtful. “I’m not sure. There were two
different men, and one of them went out alone. I don’t
remember which was which.”
“Well, we’re here. Let’s get started.”
We walked over to the lunch-room. It was open, except
for the screen door.
“I locked up when I left,” she said.
Well, it couldn’t be helped. If we ran into him, it was
going to be a lot more awkward on account of my being
with her, but that was the way it bounced. I had to be sure
she hadn’t talked to anybody. I opened the screen and we
went in. The room was empty. He could be in back, I
thought, but presumably he would have heard us by this
time and come out. She hesitated, and I knew she didn’t
like the idea of going in to see, but I couldn’t help her
there. It was bad enough this way, but if he came in and
Girl Out Back— 151
found the two of us in their bedroom the whole thing was
apt to turn hairy in large quantities.
He didn’t strike me at all as the well-we-might-as-well-becivilized
type.
“It’s so quiet,” she said.
I’d noticed that, and usually liked more noise myself. I
was about to say something when the screen door opened
quietly behind us and he came in. God alone knew where
he’d been. Under the best of circumstances his face wasn’t
anything you’d need in your dreams unless you wanted to
grate a coconut, but now there was a frozen savagery
about it I didn’t like at all.
He didn’t say anything. He leaned against the door jamb
and looked dangerous. He was good at it.
She was behind me. “I’m leaving, George,” she said.
Nothing moved except his lips. “You figure you’ll be
better off with glamor-boy here?
“I’m going away,” she said. “That’s the only thing that
matters, isn’t it?”
“Get a place with a back door,” he said. “So you can both
keep in practice.”
“Look, Nunn,” I broke in. “There hasn’t been . . .”
“Shut up,” he said. I’ll get to you in a minute.”
“Go pack your bag,” I told her. “You’ve told him you’re
leaving. That’s all that’s necessary.”
She turned and went through the doorway behind the
counter. He started to come toward me. I was blocking his
way at the opening between the counter and showcase.
“She’s afraid of you,” I said. “Stay out of there and leave
her alone.”
I could see he didn’t have a gun. He wore nothing except
a pair of dungarees and a sweaty T-shirt. He looked like
something carved out of knotty wood.
“You forget whose place this is?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “But why don’t you stop acting like an idiot.
All she’s doing is leaving. It happens every day.”
“Yeah. It does with you around, sport.”
Girl Out Back— 152
He made no move to swing at me, or go past. Instead he
stepped down the counter and leaned over it. When he
straightened he had a hunting knife in his hand. It had a
thin and wicked blade about eight inches long.
He started back toward me. “You want to see what a man
looks like standing in his own guts?”
He meant it. He wasn’t the bluffing kind. I backed up a
step. There was nothing under the counter or in the
showcase I could hold him off with. I didn’t like it at all any
more. About one more step backward and I’d be in that
hallway on the other side of the door, and in the close
quarters there I was going to have knife in me somewhere
no matter what I did.
Then something slid past my side, just under my right
arm. It was a .45 automatic. I grabbed it from her hand and
leveled it at him. Instead of stopping, he lunged at me, and
I knew the chamber wasn’t armed. It was his gun, of
course, and if she had armed it we’d have heard her. There
wasn’t time. I swung it at the side of his head and was
lucky enough to connect. He fell into me like a bum tackle,
rolled off, and fell to the floor. She cried out behind me.
“Get back,” I snapped at her.
Instead, she came on past me, stepped over his legs, and
went around the counter. She sat down on one of the stools
and put her face down in her arms. She was just weak and
sick.
I bent over him and felt his head where the trickle of
blood showed on his scalp above the left ear. There was no
fracture. He groaned and stirred his legs. I picked up the
knife and tossed it back on the shelf under the counter.
Straightening up, I pulled the slide of the gun back to arm
it. A cartridge flew out. I looked down at him and shook my
head. He was a rough type. It took guts to charge a gun
you knew was ready to shoot.
“He have any more guns around here?” I asked.
She sat up. Her face was pale and very still. I supposed
as a way to break up house-keeping in the old urbane
manner this could stand a little polishing. I’d had enough
of it myself; I’d never cared much for these muscle
routines.
Girl Out Back— 153
“Two,” she said. “A rifle and a shotgun.”
“Maybe you’d better bring ’em out.”
They were a 30.30 and a Model 12 shotgun. I went down
and threw them in the lake off the end of the float. It was a
shame to treat good guns like that, but this thing was sour
now for fair. They’d probably have been able to kiss it off
with nothing but a double order of frozen silence all
around if she’d been alone; but after that humiliation he’d
kill either or both of us if he could.
I went back. She was coming out the screen door with
her overnight bag. When I looked inside he was moving.
He had his head and shoulders against the wall and was
trying to inch his way up. A bright thread of blood ran
down the corded neck and into his T-shirt. He looked at
me, but said nothing. I turned and went out. She was
putting her bag in the car. I looked back at him before I let
the screen door slam, and he was on his feet, weakly
clutching the end of the counter and vomiting.
I was getting behind the wheel when I heard the door
slam again. He walked unsteadily toward us as I reached
for the starter, and stopped about ten feet away, staring at
both of us.
It didn’t seem to be a situation that called for a great
deal in the way of conversation. I pressed the starter and
we drove on out of the bottom.
Girl Out Back— 154
Fifteen
I stopped once and threw the .45 out into the timber at the
side of the road.
“Thanks,” I said. “I’m sorry it had to be that messy.”
“It’s all right,” she said. She was looking a little better
now, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Neither did I.
I thought swiftly as I gunned the car back toward
Hampstead and the highway. It has to be done just right
now, and in as natural a way as possible. If we were
running away together, we wouldn’t flaunt the fact all over
town. We’d meet somewhere and simply go, knowing it
would be a matter of public knowledge within hours,
anyway. And I could not let her talk to anybody, anybody at
all under any circumstances, until we were away from
here. The only thing to do was take her home and leave her
there while I cashed the check and made the last trip to
the shop.
She didn’t have to be seen going in. The three houses
along that street were old ones that went in for privacy.
They were on big lots, heavily planted, with a fenced alley
at the rear. I could take her in that way. No, I thought.
Why be silly about it? Overdoing the cloak-and-dagger
would be carrying it too far in the other direction. We’d
merely drive right into the garage and go out through the
side door and into the kitchen. It was only four or five
steps, and could be seen only from the house directly
Girl Out Back— 155
across the street. If Mrs. Macklin happened to be looking
out the window at just that moment, who cared? We were
merely being clandestine, not furtive. It’d give her a
chance to sound “Boots and Saddles” after we were gone,
and harry on the pack.
I made the turn on to the highway. Jewel put a hand on
mine on the steering wheel and moved a little closer. She
glanced up and smiled faintly. “It won’t take long, will it,
Barney? I mean, before we can start?”
”No,” I said. “An hour or two, at the most. You won’t
mind waiting for me at the house, will you?”
She shook her head. “That will be all right.”
I swung off the main drag in the outskirts of town and
circled to get on Minden at the outer end. The house was
the second from the corner on Underhill, a short side
street that intersected it. I made the turn into Underhill,
and then swung into the driveway. The garage door was
open. I went on in.
Patting her on the hand, I said, “Sit tight for just a
minute.”
I pulled down the garage door and let myself in at the
front of the house. Going on through, I unlocked the
kitchen door and stepped out to the garage again. She had
already got out and was standing there with her bag. I took
it and followed her in.
The curtains were drawn in the kitchen and the Venetian
blinds closed in the dining- and living-rooms. We went on
through to the living-room and I put down her bag.
She dropped her purse on the coffee table and turned. I
caught her to me and kissed the upraised lips and closed
eyes and then whispered rapturously against her ear,
“Darling, darling; it won t be long,” at the same time
reminding myself she probably wouldn’t want to get very
sweaty about it here, under the circumstances, and that
there was a lot to be done.
She surrendered to it for an instant, and then began
pushing me away, breathless and confused but radiantly
happy. “No, Barney. No. Let’s hurry and get started.”
“All right, sweet,” I said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
Girl Out Back— 156
She sat down on the sofa near the phonograph and took
a cigarette from her bag. I lit it for her. She smiled and
said, “It’s so wonderful it’s like a dream.”
I turned toward the stairs, and then stopped, struck by
an odd thought.
“Look,” I asked, “how did you know she was gone?”
She smilingly shook her head at me. “It was in the paper,
silly. Don’t you ever look at it?”
“Oh,” I said. I went on up the stairs. Well, there was that
to be said for having a rich wife; you could always read the
paper and find out what she was doing. I grabbed two of
my suitcases from the hall closet, took them into the
bedroom, and began throwing clothes into them. It
required less than a minute to see I was never going to get
more than a quarter of my personal gear into them. And I
needed the other bag for the money; it was the only one to
which I hadn’t lost the key.
Well, why not ship the trunk? I could put the money in
that other bag, throw away most of the useless rubbish
that was stored in it now, and pack it with things I wanted
to take. I could leave it on the kitchen porch and phone to
have it picked up and forwarded collect care Railway
Express in Miami. Right. That was it.
I picked up the other bag from the closet and hurried
down the stairs. She was still on the sofa. I made the circle
sign with the thumb and forefinger of my right hand and
said, “I’m gaining on it,” as I hurried on toward the
kitchen. She looked up and smiled, but remained where
she was.
Down in the den, I pulled the trunk away from the wall
and unlocked it. Just as I was about to throw the first of the
stuff out, I looked at my watch. I whistled. It was two
twenty. The bank closed in ten minutes. And I had to cash
that check. Sure, I had over a hundred thousand dollars
right here under my hand; but how would it look to the
F.B.I., in case they investigated, if I ran off like this without
bothering to withdraw any of the over fifteen hundred I
had in my personal current account? I couldn’t speak for
them, but I knew it would look damned suspicious to me.
I slammed the trunk shut and hurried back up the stairs.
“Have to get to the bank before it closes,” I called out to
Girl Out Back— 157
her from the door of the dining-room. “I’ll be back as soon
as I can, sweet.”
She smiled and waved. “Please hurry, darling.”
I went out the kitchen door and backed the car out of the
garage. Luck was with me and I found a parking place
right across the street from the bank.
I made a quick calculation of my balance and wrote out a
check for $1,540. Arthur Pressler gave it to me in fifties
and twenties, looked up once as if to ask me why I was
withdrawing my account, and then decided it wasn’t
efficient to indulge in such human foibles as curiosity. I
glanced at my watch and stopped in Joey’s for a quick cup
of coffee. He waited on me himself.
He was a fat and humorous man with six or seven long
hairs combed diagonally across a head as slick and shiny
on top as a steel roller bearing, and he was the best wing
shot I have ever seen. I’d hunted quail with him a lot.
“Hey, Barney,” he asked genially, “what’s with you and
these F.B.I, jokers?”
I just saved spilling the coffee. “Why?”
“A quiet type named Ramsey. He’s been in here twice
pumping me about you. Where you came from, how long
you been here, all that routine. You applied for a Federal
job?”