Savage Night by Jim Thompson Read Free Book Online Page B

have to look him up,” I said. “You don’t think he’ll be home?”
    “Who knows what he’ll do?” She shrugged angrily. “He’ll probably stay away until they find out about you.”
    “I’m sorry,” I said. “I hate to have him put himself out on my account.”
    She gave me another of those thoughtful looks, her eyes narrowed behind the smoke. “Carl. It will be all right, won’t it? The sheriff—he—it’ll be all right?”
    “Why not?” I said.
    “You’re going to go to school here?”
    “It would be pretty foolish not to,” I said. “Wouldn’t it?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. Skip it!” She laughed, irritably. “I guess I’m kind of goofy this morning.”
    “It’s this town,” I said. “Sticking around a hole like this with nothing to do. You just weren’t built for it. You’ve got too much stuff for the place. I knew it the minute I saw you.”
    “Did you, honey?” She patted my hand.
    “I should think you could get some kind of singing job,” I said. “Something that would give you a better life.”
    “Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know,” she said. “If I had some clothes, the dough to look around with. Maybe I could, but I don’t know, Carl. I’ve been out of things so long. I don’t know whether I could work any more, even to get away from this.”
    I nodded. I took another step. It was probably unnecessary, but it wasn’t any trouble and it could save a lot.
    “You’re afraid, too, aren’t you,” I said, “that things might be made a little unpleasant for Jake Winroy’s wife?”
    “Afraid?” She frowned, puzzledly. “Why should—?”
    It had never occurred to her, apparently. And I could see it sink in on her now, sink and build and spread. It pushed the color out of her face, and her lips trembled.
    “B-but it wasn’t my fault. They can’t blame me, Carl! H-how could they—they wouldn’t blame me, would they, Carl?”
    “They shouldn’t,” I said. “I don’t suppose they would, if they knew how you felt.”
    “Carl! What can I—My God, honey, I don’t know why I didn’t see that—”
    I laughed softly. It was time to call a halt. Her imagination could talk a lot better to her than I could. “Gosh,” I said, “look at the time. Almost eleven o’clock, and we’re still fooling around with breakfast.”
    “But, Carl. I—”
    “Forget it.” I grinned at her. “What would I know about things like that? Now you run on to town.”
    I stood up and began clearing away the dishes. After a long moment she got up, too, but she didn’t make any move toward the door.
    I took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “It’s like I said,” I told her. “The town’s getting on your nerves. You ought to run into the city for the weekend.”
    She smiled weakly, still pale around the gills. “Run is right. I sure as hell couldn’t ride.”
    “Maybe you could,” I said. “You got any kinfolks there? Anyone you ever visit?”
    “Well, I have a sister over in the Bronx, but—”
    “She’d yes for you? Give you an alibi in case Jake tried to check up?”
    “Well, I don’t—Why should I—?” She frowned at me, blinking; and I thought maybe I’d figured her wrong or had crowded her too hard. Then she laughed softly, huskily. “Boy!” she said. “Did I say he was slick? But look, Carl. Won’t it look kind of funny if we both—?”
    “We won’t,” I said. “You let me figure it out.”
    “All right, Carl.” She nodded quickly. “You don’t—you won’t think I’m a tramp, will you? It’s just that—”
    “No,” I said. “You’re not a tramp.”
    “I’ll go along as long as I can with a person, but when I’m through, well, I’m through. I just don’t want any part of ’em any more. You understand Carl?”
    “I understand,” I said. “Now, beat it, will you? Or you stay here and I’ll clear out. It doesn’t look good for the two of us to be hanging around here alone.”
    “All right, honey. I’ll go right now.