The Big Bite by Charles Williams(4)

”Are you going to be here very long, Mr. Harlan?” ‘she
asked. “Two weeks,” I replied. “Maybe a little less.”
“And you’re out at that same cabin where you were
before?”
“I will be,” I said. “Right now I’m at the Enders Hotel. The
friend of mine that owns the shack is mailing me a key. It’ll
probably be here today.”
“Well, I do hope I’ll see you again while you’re here,” she
said.
The Big Bite — 61
I stood up on cue. “It’s been nice meeting you,” I said
earnestly. “I probably won’t come to town much, but if
you’re out that way drop in and go fishing with me. Heh,
heh.”
She smiled, the way you would at a meat-head who wasn’t
too bright, and came to the door with me. She held out her
hand very graciously. I took it. The brown eyes looked up at
me from about the level of my shoulder. Brother! I thought.
I simpered like a clown and said good-by three times,
standing on one foot; then the other, gave her another poorbut-
honest pitch about how nice it was of her to let me call,
and finally backed out the door like a high school kid
escaping from the stage after winning a scholarship in the
essay contest. She’d call Tallant all right the minute the
door was closed, but they’d just have a good laugh. was
utterly harmless.

The Big Bite by Charles Williams(3)

‘’Private Investigator Slain,” the second page story led off.
“The body of Winton L. Purvis, 38, private detective and
former insurance investigator, was discovered early this
afternoon in his apartment at 10325 Can line Street. He
was apparently struck on the head with terrific force by
some heavy object, though no trace of the murder weapon
was found at the scene. Police are as yet without clue as to
the identity of the assailant, but are convinced he is a large
man of great physical strength.”
There wasn’t much more. Apparently it had broken just in
time to get the bare essential facts in the last edition;
there’d be more tomorrow. But there was enough here to
start it rolling—the address and the fact they were looking
for a big man. I hoped that cabby wasn’t sitting behind his
wheel somewhere in the city as I was, leafing through the
paper.
Well, the ball had to bounce—one way or the other. But I
couldn’t sit here and waste time. I switched on the ignition
and rolled out into the river of traffic. Mrs. Cannon, here I
come.
The Big Bite — 41
5
Wayles . . .

The Big Bite by Charles Williams(2)

It was a walk-up. I went up two steps at a time, meeting
no one in the halls or on the stairs, but hearing snatches of
what sounded like the same television program on all three
floors. Number 303 was the first one on the right at the
The Big Bite — 22
head of the stairs. I touched the bell and Purvis opened the
door almost immediately. He nodded, but said nothing until
I had come inside and the door was closed.
It was a small living-room. Directly across from the door
was a window which presumably looked out on the street,
but the blind was drawn all the way down. At the left was an
open door going into the bedroom, while on the right, just
opposite it, another opened into a small dinette. The livingroom
was fitted with the usual landlord-tan wallpaper and
the beat-up odds and ends of shabby furniture that would
come with a furnished deadfall in this neighborhood, so
dreary and like a thousand others that Purvis’s things stood
out and hit you right in the eye the moment you walked in.
There were five or six framed copies of paintings of girls in
ballet costumes, the same pictures you sometimes see in the
anterooms of doctors’ offices. Some arty, horse-faced girl I
got stuck with once at a party told me who the painter was
that did them, but I couldn’t remember now. Dago was all I
could think of, but that wasn’t it. There were some more
pictures in one big frame over a desk at the right, beside
the doorway going into the dinette, but these were
photographs. They were all signed, and they were, all of
ballet dancers. There must have been a dozen of them. An
aficionado, I thought, remembering that way he had of
describing things with his hands and what he had said

The Big Bite by Charles Williams(1)

1
They said it was going to be as good as ever, but it wasn’t.
You could see that by the end of the first week of practice.
They’d stuck it back on, all right, and it looked like a leg,
but something was gone. McGilvray, who’s probably the
best T-formation quarterback that ever lived, was handing
the ball off a half stride ahead of me. We’d played together
two years in college and five in the pros, so he knew where I
was supposed to be. I did too, but I wasn’t getting there.
About the tenth time they unpiled the beef off us after the
fumble he spat out some topsoil and said, “We’re just a little
rusty yet, Harlan. Maybe I’m leading you too much.”
“It could be, dear,” I said. I knew better.
The next time he handed the ball off to me where I was,
instead of where I was supposed to be, and two rookies
smeared me back of the line. Not the Cleveland Browns;
just rookies trying out. It went on that way. When they ran
off the pictures looking for the missed blocking