Heat of Night by Harry Whittington Read Free Book Online Page A

Little Red Riding Hood before she turns out to be Stella’s sister under the skin and devours him first.
    “It may be,” Hollister said. “But there are only two of us to be there.”
    “Fine,” Mrs. Harker said. “I’m glad you’re getting interested in some fine girl — ”
    “Interested is a mild word for what’s afflicting me,” Hollister said. He was in love with a girl half his age, a girl whose parents would rather see her dead than married to him, a girl that was begging him to take her and with whom he’d been the soul of honor. Me. Stella’s cast-off. Who was he kidding?
    “Wonderful. I always said you could be happy with some nice girl — if only she gave you half a chance.”
    “That’s enough, Reeva,” her husband’s voice was sharp. Mrs. Harker had always hated Stella. Harker didn’t mind as long as she kept her views in the kitchen.
    Hollister spoke to the butler. “I want dinner served on the closed terrace. A table for two — ”
    “With candles,” Mrs. Harker said.
    “I want the view,” Hollister admitted the view of this bay was new neither to him nor Dolores but there was always the chance that seeing it together would make it new for both of them. A man had to hope for something. He’d been planning to sell this place until he saw Dolores Venzino working in the Dead Bay branch office. Well, he’d had enough sentimental thoughts. He was thirty-six, this girl was nineteen, she was throwing herself at him and only one thing could come of it — and that might as well be tonight.
    He shivered, wondering why he hated himself.
    He went over each detail of the menu with Mrs. Harker, including wines, their temperature and the precise moment when Harker should serve them. He left nothing to chance. He never had in the last fifteen years.
    When he was sure the dinner would be what both of them would enjoy, and would make Dolores smile with pleasure, he walked into the oversized living room that opened upon a closed terrace with view of forest, bay and Gulf. Candles and moonlight would make it irresistibly lovely. The ideal setting for the moment when a girl learned the hard facts of life, he told himself coldly, trying to forget how terribly, how tenderly, he loved her. He felt his hands sweating.
    Going into the music library he chose records for three hours of uninterrupted background. Everything had to be right, something had to give. This girl was making an idiot of him: he could hear Stella’s distant laughter, taunting, full of contempt. Stella had made a sucker of him, this girl would too, give her time. She already had — wasn’t he a fool trying to control all his natural impulses? Well, he was tired playing the clown, tired believing in that goodness that always meant so much to him. He couldn’t go on, a walking zombie like this, trying to out-think the politicians and unable to think about anything except Dolores. This had to be the night.

6
    R OSA WAS CRYING as she washed out some clothes over a tub in the back yard. She couldn’t make her nose stop running.
    She swallowed, vision blurred. Her hand slipped on the scrub board and she uttered a blasphemy, quickly crossing herself. She needed an electric washer, that was what she needed, even the manual wringer type would be nice. There were reasons she never mentioned such a machine. No sense worrying Juan. If he knew she wanted an electric washer, it would worry him until he found some way to get it for her. And she knew what way he would find. He would go deeper into debt.
    And it might start him talking about going out in the Gulf in one of his rotting boats to find that treasure — this treasure would solve all their woes. Aiee. She’d been hearing about this treasure so long. Sometimes she even believed perhaps — truly if talking about a thing made it so …
    She sniffled and wiped her red raw knuckles across her nose leaving a trail of suds. She blew at it, sticking out her underlip.
    “Rosa.”
    She hadn’t