Recoil by Jim Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

the few original contacts, and I’ve used this place to get more. But I’ve had to depend on people like, well, our friend Hardesty to steer me. Being dependent upon anyone in a game of this kind has serious disadvantages.”
    “Yes,” I said. “I can see that it would.”
    He stretched lazily and stood up, frowning absently at the small clock on the writing table. “Well, I’ll run along now. I didn’t mean to stay so long, but I thought I’d put your mind at rest about a few things.”
    And on that seemingly commonplace remark, Dr. Ronald Luther, ex-professor of psychology turned lobbyist, left the room.
    Henry brought in my dinner and cleaned up the mess on the carpet. I ate, unpacked the clothes that had come from the store, and tried to read a while. I couldn’t. I went to bed; sleep wouldn’t come.

10
    D oc came in the next morning while I was finishing my coffee, and sat down on the bed. He asked me if I’d slept well, and said the new suit looked nice on me. I made the proper replies. Not much was said after that until we reached the capitol.
    We were starting up the long steps of the main entrance when he cleared his throat, with a trace of embarrassment, and spoke.
    “I know you’re as anxious to avoid unfavorable impressions as I am. If Mrs. Luther should visit your room again, it might be best to leave the door open.”
    “What?” I said, and turned in my tracks and looked at him. “But, Doc—”
    I didn’t finish the sentence, although it was an effort to choke it off. The look of stubborn embarrassment on his face stopped me. He’d convinced himself all over again that Lila couldn’t be at fault. She couldn’t, so someone else had to be. That was that.
    “All right, Doc,” I said. “I’ll remember that.”
    “Fine,” he said, obviously relieved. “Do you think you can find your way home all right tonight? I don’t know when I’ll be leaving and of course you don’t know your hours yet.”
    I told him I’d be all right by myself; he hurried off. Seething inside, I walked on toward the highway department.
    It was on the main floor of the building, and occupied an entire wing. A long counter, facing the entrance door stretched the length of it. A series of cages similar to those in banks fronted on the counter.
    It was nine o’clock when I arrived, but no one was there. Finally, at a quarter after nine, an auto-license clerk entered his cage and pointed out Fleming’s office to me.
    I went down the aisle to a door at the end. It opened into a reception room with an immense executive-type desk and a white-leather upholstered lounge with matching chairs. I knocked on a door marked “Private” and tried the knob. I sat down in one of the chairs and lighted a cigarette.
    The nearest ash tray stood by the desk. I’d got up to move it over by me when the door behind me opened and a woman bustled in breathlessly. She was about fifty, trim, sharp-featured.
    “What are you doing here?” she demanded. And before I could answer, she had pushed around me and was trying the drawers of the desk.
    “Anything missing?” I said.
    “What do you want?”
    “I was supposed to see Mr. Fleming about a job,” I said. “I’m Patrick Cosgrove.”
    She gave me a tight-lipped smile. “I’m Mr. Fleming’s secretary. I don’t remember his mentioning your name.”
    “Senator Burkman spoke to him about it.”
    “Oh,” her face cleared, “Burkman! Well, that accounts for it. It probably slipped his mind.”
    “When will Mr. Fleming be in?” I asked.
    “I’m not sure that he can see you when he does come in. Oh, well, drop back in an hour or so if you like. I’ll see what I can do.”
    I thanked her and left, far from happy with the situation. I thought I’d better talk things over with Doc before I went back to Fleming’s office, and I went down to the restaurant, hoping to catch him there.
    He wasn’t there and neither was Burkman. I was on the point of leaving when Hardesty hailed