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make much difference who found me first, the lynch mob or the law. The
net result would be the same. Nelly would give me the ten minutes I d
asked for. Then the dark road down which Joe had staggered would begin
to fill with lights. It was up to me to make those ten minutes count. I
wished I knew what to do.
Sally s voice was small again.  Don t look like that, Hi. Would a drink
do any good? I ve some upstairs in that little silver flask you gave me.
I looked at her.  Thanks. I d rather have a cup of hot coffee. But I
haven t the time. So let it go.
 Whatever you say.
 So you tore up your contract, eh?
Sally bobbed her head.  Uh huh. I m an ex-motion picture actress.
I said,  I m glad.
 So am I, Sally said.
The silence grew between us. The drone of the insects and the thunk
thunk of the frogs was beginning to get on my nerves. I was lonesome for
the noise and bustle of Hollywood and Vine, the mad rush of eight cars
abreast in Cuahenga Pass, a leather-lunged newsboy yelling,  Waddaya
read? Get your evening paper! , the shrill toot of a policeman s whistle,
the awed voice of an Iowa tourist standing in front of Grauman s Chinese
Theatre, saying,  Oh, migawd. Look, Effie. There in that cement. There s
Greta Garbo s footprints and Monty Woottey s beard.
I wondered why I had ever wanted to come back to Elfers County, to any
92 DAY KEENE
rural community. The boy had been out of the country. Now the country
was out of the boy. As far as I was concerned, the wide open spaces were
strictly for the cows and the birds.
Sally swallowed something in her throat.  Now, if you weren t in this
mess and I wasn t mad at you, we could have children.
The package of Murads was still on the kitchen table. I lit one. The
Turkish tobacco smelled good. It tasted better.  That s it, I said.  That s
it.
 That s what? Sally puzzled.
I told her.  What all this is about. Look. You want to stay here until the
sheriff gets here?
Sally shook her head.  No. I want to go with you.
I opened the screen door for her.  Then let s drive down the road a way
before the bloodhounds catch us. I want to talk to an old storekeeper named
Levy.
Sally walked ahead of me to the rented car.  He knows who killed your
friend Paul?
I thought a moment, then shook my head.  No. I doubt if Levy knows
that.
Sally s eyes filled with tears.  Then why waste time, Hi? Why don t we
just drive on? To New Orleans, anywhere. Those awful men who were in
the square are going to lynch you if they catch you. I know. They told me
so.
I realized I was breathing hard.  Yeah. I know.
Sally had snatched up her purse before leaving the kitchen.  We ve plen-
ty of money. Enough to take a boat to Central or South America. She took
a familiar-looking wallet out of her purse.  There s almost fifteen thousand
dollars in your wallet.
 Where did you get that? I asked her.
She said,  Under the pillow on the bed you used. When I made up the
bed this morning.
I tried to think. Putting my wallet under my pillow was an old habit of
mine. When I d come back from town, drunk, after my quarrel with Paul,
I must have followed the old pattern by putting my wallet in its right place.
It hadn t been in the coat I d thrown into the bushes after the hooded and
masked men had beaten me. That meant my own money hadn t been used
to frame me. Someone had wanted me to die so damn bad they d risked
eight grand of their own. And, according to May s story, there had been
exactly eight thousand dollars in Paul s safe.
Sally said,  We could go to Buenos Aires. I shook my head at her.  No,
THE PASSION MURDERS 93
running never gets a man anything but winded. I knew that a long time ago,
but it just came back to me.
Sally s voice was small again.  But what are you going to do, Hi?
I started the rented car.  I m going to talk to old man Levy.
 But you said he doesn t know who killed your friend.
 I doubt if he does.
 Then what good will talking to him do?
I drove out of the yard.  Because if I m right about this thing, old man
Levy can back me up as to why Paul was murdered. Aware that I was driv-
ing without lights, I switched them on, then switched them off again, in
case some eager beaver, anxious to be the first man on the rope, should
have stumbled on the bright idea that I might go back to the home place.
There was plenty of moonlight to drive by.
 Why? Sally asked.
I drove a little faster.  Uh uh. You see, if what I m thinking is so, my
coming back to Elfers in disgrace and quarreling with Paul yesterday after-
noon was the luckiest possible break for the person who killed him. When
I hit town he was desperate and he jumped at the chance of killing Paul and
blaming it on me.
Sally persisted.  But Paul was fine. He was real. He was genuine. I could
tell that in the few times I met him. Why should anyone want to kill Paul?
I told her.  Because in addition to the things you named, despite his bum
foot, Paul was all man. When he played he played for keeps. He believed
in the sanctity of marriage. He was also a crack shot. And, if I m right,
about six or seven months ago the man who killed him started to dig his
own grave. With a Hollywood spade.
Sally s eyes grew round in the moonlight filtering into the car.  Oh, she
said.  I think I see what you mean.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SHORTLY BEFORE MIDNIGHT, there was an electrical storm. There
was a lot of lightning and some thunder. But no rain fell. Still driving with-
out lights, I turned into Paul Mason s drive and sat a moment looking out
at the night.
Paul had built on top of a hill. From where I sat, I could see all of Elfers
and most of the surrounding countryside. And as far as I could see, the
roads radiating from Elfers and the fields and hills between them were pin-
pricked with bobbing lights. The boys wanted me, bad.
I lit a cigarette, cupping the match flame in both hands. Then I trans-
ferred my attention to the house. It was dark but I thought I could see some-
94 DAY KEENE
thing white, possibly May in a white negligee, on the porch. It was May,
sitting in the porch glider. Her cigarette glowed in the dark once, twice,
three times, possibly some prearranged signal. I put my head to the win-
dow and sucked my cigarette back at her, hoping three times was the
answer. It seemed to be. At least, no lights came on.
I got out of the car. As I did, the phone inside the house rang and the
something in white got up off the glider and floated into the house. I
crunched up the gravel drive to the porch. The phone stopped ringing. May
said:
 I see, Sheriff White. You think you have Hi bottled up in the O Hara
slough. Fine. I hope you don t take him alive. I hope one of the boys shoots
him right between the eyes. For what he did to poor Paul. May seemed
puzzled.  No. I don t know anyone named Cassida or Hass. I never heard
Paul mention the names. You found them in the kitchen of the Shannon
place? Oh, I see. You think they work for the racketeer who ran Hi out of
Los Angeles. And one of them is dead? May seemed pleased.  Another
murder on Hi s conscience. Well, thanks for calling, sheriff. Do call me
back when you get him. I won t be able to sleep a wink until you do.
A receiver clicked into a cradle. The glowing tip of a cigarette floated
back through the dark living room to the porch. I opened the screen door.
May said,  You shouldn t have come tonight, honey. Just let one of these
small-town cats put two and two together and we d both go to the chair.
She crossed the porch to me.  But I m glad you did. She slid her arms
around my neck in the dark. Her body pressed close to mine. There was
nothing under the white negligee but May. She pulled my head down and
kissed me. Then, beating at my chest, trying to get out of my arms, she
screamed,  My God. You re Hi Shannon.
I held her a moment longer.  Who were you expecting, baby? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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