Davidian Report by Dorothy B. Hughes Read Free Book Online

send him running again?”
    He forced it on her, from across the room. “Will you tell him that?”
    She shrugged and she tightened the cheap kimono about her. Beneath it there was nothing but her body, the curves and planes that came alive in a man’s hands.
    “Tell him that. Let him know. It’s better for him to know.”
    She gave no response at all, only the width of her blank, black eyes. He didn’t know what she would do. She would decide. He turned on his heel. The old woman had the door open for him. There was a curse on her blanched lips.
    He wasn’t noiseless leaving the house; he defied its ugliness. At the front door he paused briefly before stepping out into the city. If a tail had caught up with him, it wasn’t visible. He went on down the hill to Pershing Square. He rode the trolley back to Hollywood, to his hotel. Blanking the memories from his mind, mocking at desire. A street girl; maybe she was selling movie tickets on Main Street and maybe she wasn’t. Maybe she was singing the little song again, dancing the dance. She had been fifteen when they first met, five—six years ago. He’d been too old for her then; he was too much older now.
    Reuben was stretched out on the bed, perusing the comic strips in the evening news. He said, “What do you think? We’re asked to a cocktail party.”
    “Who?”
    “Feather Talle. She’d called about a million times before I got in so I called her back. She was calling you but she asked me to come along.”
    Steve lay down on his own bed. “Forget it. Trolleys don’t run to her ritzy dump. Or buses. And I’m too old to hitch.”
    “She’s sending a car.” Rube was slyly triumphant. “Haig Armour’s car.”
    Steve frowned. He didn’t get it unless two and two were actually four and she was one of Haig’s little helpers.
    Rube continued. “She said Haig said he’d be delighted to pick us up. He’s invited too.”
    He would be. Haig and his damn car and damn driver.
    “How the hell did she find me?”
    “She said it was easy. She just started calling Hollywood hotels until she found this one.”
    “You go,” Steve decided. “Say you couldn’t find me.”
    “I couldn’t do that. It was you she wanted.”
    It wouldn’t hurt to go; wouldn’t hurt to find out for sure what Haig Armour expected to get out of him. He yawned, “Okay, you win. But you take on whats-her-name.”
    “Feather,” Rube admitted sadly.
    “My God.” He climbed off the bed. “I’ll take on the cocktails. What about your pals? Find them?”
    Reuben was embarrassed. “I found where they used to be. They’ve already shipped out.” He went on quickly. “I’m getting out of here, don’t worry about that, Steve. Only I’d sort of like to take in that cocktail party first.”
    Steve laughed. “I’m not trying to get rid of you.” Maybe there’d been pals, maybe not; maybe Reuben St. Clair was a dog on his heels. It was better to have him underfoot than to have to spy out a stranger. If he was just a soldier with no place to go, he’d come in handy to keep Schmidt’s boys out of the room. “You might as well stay on with me as long as you’re parked here. We don’t seem to get in each other’s way.”
    “You mean it?” The boy was appealingly grateful. “It’s a lot better kicks than being alone. I don’t like to make out alone. I wouldn’t want you to think I’m sponging. I was kind of rocky last night but I cashed a check today.” He darted to the jangling phone, said happily, “I sure thank you,” and into the phone, “Yeah, we’ll be right down.”
    It was Wilton again. In lobby light he looked like any human being. Not much different from Steve, same build, about the same height, same average face. Same deadpan. He stated, “The car’s around the corner,” and let them follow him. Haig wasn’t in it; Haig had gone on ahead to set the stage.
    He put them in the back seat, took his place at the wheel. He drove out Selma, there were lights