Meeting Evil by Thomas Berger Read Free Book Online Page B

Sharon’s money.”
    “Let me get settled first,” Richie gently complained. With some difficulty, given his tight jeans, he dug into the left-hand pocket and extracted a sheaf of paper money and then some coins. He offered the handful to John, who gestured toward Sharon.
    “Better count it,” Richie said, pushing it between the seat-backs. “I don’t trust anybody these days.”
    “It’s okay,” she said quickly.
    It seemed probable enough to John that Richie had not extorted money from her but instead had taken only enough to pay for the food, which furthermore was intended to serve as refreshment not exclusively for himself but for the whole group. In fact, he now asked Sharon, who was still clutching the bag, to help herself to the contents and pass the remainder up front.
    John had impatiently started the engine and was waiting for a break in the bumper-to-bumper traffic that inevitably appears from nowhere when you want to pull away from any curb anywhere in the world though all had been clear a moment earlier. He waved the bag away when, from the corner of his eye, he saw Richie offer it.
    “Where to, sir?” Richie asked his shoulder.
    “I’m driving myself home,” John said firmly. “Where I’m getting out and staying.” He felt like adding
And you won’t be invited in,
but he really found it difficult to be rude, so settled for, “Where you two go from there is
your
business.” But then he regretted saying that, which maybe would seem callous with respect to Sharon, whose fears might be unwarranted but were no less psychologically real. “No, I’ve changed my mind. I want to drop
you
off first.” He had turned to address Richie.
    Richie narrowed his eyes, but from the tone of his voice it seemed he might be joking. “So what have you two cooked up behind my back?” he asked. “If you want a little privacy, I can always look the other way.”
    “All right,” John said sourly.
    Richie was grinning. “I’m an understanding guy.”
    Sharon had moved forward until her anxious, pale, red-framedface was near their respective shoulders. “We’re not doing anything behind your back,” she said fearfully.
    Richie did not acknowledge her. He continued to grin at John. “You’re not as straitlaced as you want me to believe. You won’t turn down a piece of free tail. Hell, why should you?”
    John refused to participate in this banter. He was back to watching for a chance to pull the car out.
    Sharon tried again. “We’re not—”
    Richie said, “Shut your mouth.”
    John swung around. “Don’t talk to her that way. This is her car, remember?”
    “Yeah,” Richie said wryly. “They stole mine.”
    “It’s not
her
fault.”
    As usual Richie was quick to placate. “Anything you say, boss!” By now John was becoming accustomed to the deference habitually paid him by the man, who appeared to be the cowardly sort who would readily defer to other males but would bully women when they could get away with it.
    “I don’t have any designs on Sharon,” John said. He had a hunch that behind his back the traffic had now opened up, but he wanted to make this clear once and for all, lest Richie continue to make tasteless and embarrassing remarks. “She should have nothing to fear from either of us. That’s why I want to drop you off first.” He stared at Richie, who as always backed down.
    “You’re the doctor!”
    “Well, where to? Where do you live?”
    “I don’t want to put you to any bother like that. Just let me off at the nearest movie.”
    There was something basically feckless about the man and hence, to John, who was himself of the absolutely opposite character, something at least a bit likable—in spite ofall. “There aren’t any movies open at this time of day in the suburbs. It won’t be any bother to run you home.”
    “Hillsdale?” Richie asked skeptically.
    Hillsdale was fifteen miles away, making for a round trip of thirty, which in the morning traffic meant the