Nothing In Her Way by Charles Williams(4)

Mrs. Goodwin called me the next morning around
seven-thirty. Would I come over and just talk to
Goodwin? He’d been up all night, waiting for a call from
Nothing in Her Way — 63
Caffery, and there hadn’t been any. Maybe I could help
her calm him down before he collapsed.
I went over in a hurry, knowing Charlie’d be there at
eight. Goodwin was on the telephone again, haggard
and hollow-eyed. He had the hotel at Ludley, but
Caffery had checked out. He put the phone back in its
cradle, let out a long, hopeless sigh, and put his head
down in his hands. He was whipped.
I was looking out the window when the mudspattered
car drove up in front of the house. I saw
Charlie get out, and put my hand on Goodwin’s
shoulder. “Say, is this your man?” I nodded toward the
street.
He came alive as if I’d prodded him with a highvoltage
cable. “Hell, yes,” he said excitedly, springing
up. “But you’ll have to get out of sight. We don’t want
to make him any more suspicious than he is now. I’ll
tell you. Go up there at the head of the stairs.”
I made it just as the doorbell rang. By peeking around
the corner of the landing, I could see them. Charlie was
wearing khaki pants and boots and a leather jacket
with mud on it, and he looked as if he hadn’t shaved for
three days or slept a week. His eyes were red, and
there were lines of weariness around his mouth.
Charlie was a perfectionist.

Nothing In Her Way by Charles Williams(3)

I set him down at the end of one of the work cars. We
were in shadow now, and I looked around again to be
sure no one had seen me. The moonlit plain was empty
except for Donnelly’s car. As I bent down to roll him
under the coupling between two cars he groaned and
tried to sit up.
“What the hell?” he mumbled. Then he looked up.
“Hey, you—”
“Remember me?” I asked, and swung. He didn’t see
the hand.
I massaged my hand and felt it for broken bones, then
got down and rolled him between the rails. I crawled
over the coupling and dragged him out on the other
side. We were between the trains now, in deep shadow.
Remembering the brakie, I squatted down on the
ballast and looked for the lantern. It was far up near
the front end.
I left him lying there and moved along the cars,
looking for an empty. The third boxcar had a door open.
I walked back and got him, letting his feet drag. The
floor of the car was chest high, and I was getting tired
now. I finally got him high enough and rolled him in. I
took a long breath and leaned against the door for a
moment, completely winded.

Nothing In Her Way by Charles Williams(2)

Lachlan was the junior member of the firm, both in
years and in seniority. He had been in residence on that
job in Central America, in charge, with a second in
command by the name of Goodwin. Of course, Dunbar
and my father had been there a dozen times or more,
but you can’t see everything, especially when you trust
the man who’s doing the job. And when the dam folded
up like water-soaked cardboard, they flew in in a
chartered plane. Police were waiting for them at the
airport.
Lachlan hadn’t sold any of the reinforcing steel. That
would have been too easy to spot. But with Goodwin in
charge of the concrete work, government inspectors for
sale, and native labor who didn’t know a mix

Nothing In Her Way by Charles Williams(1)

One
He looked as if he'd got lost from a conducted tour of
something.
I didn’t pay much attention to him when he came in,
except in the general way you notice there’s somebody
standing next to you in a bar. Unless it develops he’s
dead, or he has fingers growing on his ears, or he tips
your drink over, you probably never see him. He did it
that way, in a manner of speaking. I tipped his drink
over.
I wasn’t in any mood for an opening bid about the
weather. The track had gone from sloppy to heavy
during the afternoon and outside the rain was still
crying into the neon glow of Royal Street. It’d be soup
tomorrow, and unless you tabbed something going to
the post with an outboard motor you’d do just as well
sticking a pin in the program or betting horses with
pretty names. I’d dropped two hundred in the eighth
race when Berber Prince, a beautiful overlay at four to
one, just failed to last by a nose. I was feeling low.
It was one of those dim places, with a black mirror
behind the bar, and while it was doing a good business,
I hadn’t known it was that crowded. I’d just put my
drink down and was reaching for a cigarette when I felt
my elbow bump gently against something, and then I
heard the glass break as it went over the bar. I looked
Nothing in Her Way — 2