I Was Jack Mortimer (Pushkin Collection) by Alexander Lernet-Holenia Read Free Book Online Page B

incredible that, after driving like a madman for two hours with the dead man through the whole town, he should now be sitting with the girls, drinking and smoking; or, to be more precise, with his spirits raised by the music and the alcohol, he could momentarily no longer dissociate the deed of the stranger and his own flight from the consequences that were bound to follow. Since he hadn’t observed the actual murder and indeed hadn’t even seen the murderer, he was pretty sure that as soon as the crime was discovered it’d be put at his door, so that in the end he began to feel as though he had in fact perpetrated it himself. And had he really been the murderer, in all probability he wouldn’t have been behaving any differently from the wayhe was now. He’d just be sitting with the two girls, smoking and drinking. One knows how often criminals, after committing a crime, seek the company of women simply in order to forget.
    The brunette may well have tried to engage him in small talk a couple of times, and he might have replied without thinking, but just then she repeated something to which he had apparently not responded. “There’s something on your sleeve,” he heard her repeat.
    He glanced down. She had got hold of the right-hand sleeve of his coat and was looking at the material. There were a couple of dark stains at the bottom edge.
    It was dried blood.
    He shuddered. “Get out of here!” a voice cried within him. “Now! Immediately!”
    “Oh,” he said with apparent unconcern, though haltingly, “it’s… it’s nothing. Just some… p-paint. Th-that’s all it is.” He pretended to look at it and at the same time felt sweat break out on his forehead. He stood up. “I-I’ll…” he stuttered , “I must… wash it off with some water…”
    “Come with me,” she said, “I’ll do it for you.” And she, too, was about to get up. “There’s bound to be some warm water in the kitchen…”
    “No,” he said. “Thanks all the same. Don’t worry. I’ll… I’ll be back in just a second…”
    “But it’s no trouble,” she interjected.
    “Just don’t worry!” he said. He had already taken a fewsteps from the table, but came back and without a word picked up his cap, which he had left behind.
    The girl looked at him in amazement.
    He ignored her, reached into his pocket, tossed a couple of coins on a table as he passed, and made for the exit. He almost ran the last few steps. He indicated to a waiter, who had suddenly appeared in front of him, where he had thrown the money. As he did so he could see the brunette still staring at him goggle-eyed. Next moment he was out on the street.
    Rain glistened in the light of the street lamps.
    He ran to the right and turned the corner.
    A man was standing by his cab, and had his hand next to the steering wheel as he kept honking the horn for all he was worth.
    “Cabby!” he shouted as Sponer rounded the corner.
    Sponer was at his side in a flash.
    “What the hell do you think you’re doing!” he hissed, and yanked the man’s hand away from the horn.
    “You weren’t here!” the man yelled back. “You think I like standing out in the rain? Metternichgasse, number nine!” and he reached for the door handle as if to get in.
    Sponer jumped in and turned on the engine.
    “The door won’t open!” the man shouted. Instead of answering, Sponer engaged second gear, put his foot down and sped off.
    The man tumbled back and swore after him.
    *
    Driving at speed along Wiedner Hauptstrasse, Sponer lifted up his arm to have a look at the stains on the sleeve.
    “Dammit!” he swore.
    At Paulanerkirche he turned left.
    Not to have noticed the blood! Perhaps there were more stains on his suit and collar. He turned the mirror and looked. As the street lights flashed past, he saw only his white face with its dilated eyes, almost dark blue, lighting up and dimming at intervals.
    He didn’t even notice that he had crossed Alleegasse. At the Schwarzenberg