He Won't Need it Now by James Hadley Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

down the corners of his mouth. Duffy thought he was just movie-tough.
     The little guy said, “He's here at last.”
     Duffy shut the door and leant against it. “If I'd known you were coming,” he said, “I'd been here sooner.”
     The little guy said, “Did you hear that? The bright boy said if he'd known we were coming, he'd been here sooner.”
     The other two said nothing.
     Duffy said, “Now you're here, what's it all about?”
     “He wants to know what's it all about,” the little guy said again.
     Duffy slowly closed his fists. “Must you repeat everything I say?” he asked. “Can't these two birds understand what I say?”
     The little guy eased himself back in his chair. “You understand him, don't you, Clive?” he said to the youth.
     “Clive?” Duffy was getting annoyed. “That's the name for a daffodil, ain't it?”.
     The youth sat up. “Listen, you long stick of ”
     The little guy giggled. “How do you think of such things?” he said.
     “What is this?” Duffy demanded. He looked across at the tough bird by the window.
     “Come on, come on,” the little guy said, suddenly looking bleak again. “Give it up.”
     “Give what up, for God's sake?” Duffy demanded.
     “Did you hear him, Clive, he wants to know what to give up?”
     The youth called Clive slouched out of his chair. He stood over the little guy, his face viciously angry. “You won't get anywhere with this stuff,” he said. “Turn Joe loose on him.”
     The big bird on the corner took a step forward. He seemed to be holding himself in with difficulty. The little guy waved his hand at him. “Not so fast,” he said, “we ain't got to get rough with this lug.”
     Duffy thought they were all screwy, and he wished he hadn't socked that pint away. Clive stood away from the little guy and glared at Duffy.
     The little guy looked at Duffy with stony eyes. “Get wise, bright boy,” he said. “We've come for the camera.”
     Duffy pushed his hat to the back of his head and blew out his cheeks. So that was it, he thought. He wandered over to the wagon and picked up a bottle of Scotch. “You gentlemen want any of this?” he asked.
     Clive had a gun in his hand. Duffy looked at it surprised, then he said to the little guy, “Tell that fairy to put his rod away, he might hurt someone.”
     The little guy said, “I should care. What's it to me?”
     Duffy said very sharply, “Tell that punk to put his popgun down, or I'll do it for him, and smack his ears down.”
     Clive made a high whinny sound like a horse. He looked as though he was going to have some sort of a fit. He stood there, his face white, and his eyes dark with hate. Duffy went a little cold at the sight of him.
     The little guy said, “Put it away.”
     The youth turned his head slowly and looked at the little guy. “I'm going to pop him...” he said shrilly, all his words tumbling out of his mouth in a bunch.
     “I said, put it away.” The little guy was quite shocked that he had to speak twice.
     Clive hesitated, blinked, then pushed the gun into his hip pocket. He stood undecided, his hands fluttering at his coat. Then quite suddenly, he began to cry. His face puckered up like a little indiarubber mask that someone had squeezed. He sat himself on a chair and covered his face with his thin bony hands and cried.
     The little guy sighed. He said to Duffy, “See, you've upset him now.”
     Duffy threw his hat on the settee and ran his fingers through his hair.
     The big tough came over from the window and patted Clive's head. He didn't say anything, but just patted the youth quite heavily on his head.
     The little guy shifted uncomfortably. “Aw, I didn't mean anything,” he said. “We ain't supposed