Dead Stay Dumb by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online

darkness.
     “Sure,” he said. “Butch in?”
     She shook her head. “He went down to the gym. He won't be so long, though.”
     “Lemme in, baby, I gotta talk to you.”
     “No—no, it's late, Nick. You can't come in now.”
     Gurney reached out his hands, taking her arms just above her elbows. “Get goin',” he said gently; “you don't want to be seen yappin' out here.”
     At his touch her resistance sagged. She let him push her back into the house. She broke away from him when they entered the room, standing with her back against the wall, her eyes fixed on him.
     “You gotta be careful,” she said. “He's coming back. You know him. He'll be right in on us; he comes so quietly. Not now, Nick, I'm scared he'll come.... Nick, please...”
     Gurney, his hat still at the back of his head, pulled her away from the wall. She struggled to get away from him until his mouth reached hers, then she clung to him, beating his shoulder-blades with the flat of her hands.
     Down the road Butch came, his great body throwing a bloated shadow that stumbled and lurched just ahead of him. He made no sound, walking in the grass. He kept his ear-cocked for motors. Butch had got to watch out for himself. Skirting the bend, he hastened his steps; he knew that he was nearly home. Walking, his head bent, he was puzzling about Dillon. Sankey also worried him. He'd got a lot of dough on Sankey. If Dillon didn't get that brawl rigged he was going to be down a lot—a hell of a lot too much.
     He silently padded up the mud path, pausing on the top step of the verandah to have a last smell of the night air. He didn't like it. It came hot and close to him. He thought maybe a storm would get up.
     Myra slid from the settee to the floor when Butch walked in. Gurney sat up, his face going a little green with his fright. Butch would break his back if he caught him in here.
     Myra hadn't any clothes on, except her shoes and stockings. She stood quite close to Gurney, her face set, and the first shock ebbing away. She said, “I was just going to bed.” Her voice was steady.
     Butch remained by the door. Something told him that things weren't right. “It's late,” he said, listening with his head on one side.
     Myra motioned Gurney to stay where he was. Gurney was sitting propped up on his elbow, one leg on the floor. Sweat ran down his face, making him look ghastly in the bright naked light.
     Butch moved forward a little, shutting the door.
     “Sankey all right?” Myra asked.
     “Yeah,” Butch said; he passed his hand over the top of his bald head. His eyes looked straight at Gurney. The two yellow clots bore into Gurney's brain. “Seems quiet here,” Butch went on.
     Myra stooped and picked up her dress. Butch heard the rustle of the material as she gathered it into a ring to slip over her head. “What you doin'?” he said sharply.
     Myra shook a little, the dress slipping out of her hands. “I told you I'm going to bed.” She began to walk heavily about the room, taking up the ironing-board and putting it against the wall. “Sankey going to win?” she asked, for something to say.
     “You're interested in that guy, ain't you?”
     Gurney's muscles began to ache, sitting like that. He was too scared to move. He just stayed there, his eyes fixed on Butch.
     “Why not?” Myra's knees were beginning to shake. The old geezer guessed there was something wrong, she thought. She walked carelessly over to the couch again and picked up her dress. Neither Gurney nor she looked at each other.
     Butch moved quickly. He almost trod on Gurney's foot as he went by. He snatched Myra's dress out of her hands. Myra skipped away and flattened herself against the wall. Her eyes sprang open wide.
     Butch felt the dress in his hands, then he put it to his nose.