The Alcoholics by Jim Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

for all his airy geniality. They were old friends, acquaintances, at least, and he was an outsider, and… but surely they wouldn't turn him down. Fact was, they'd already promised to take care of him. They might have done it, hoping he'd refuse-as he had refused-but they had offered, and when he explained why he couldn't hit up the doctor for the time being…
    He walked more slowly, hearing the doctor's voice through the open door of a room ahead of him.
    "… all right, General; you just lie here for another hour… sit tight, too, Rufus. Don't do any stirring around for the next fifteen minutes…"
    "Yes, suh."
    "Get all that milk down you. Miss Baker, you put plenty of corn syrup in it?"
    "Yeth, Doctor."
    "Good. Good…"
    Jeff Sloan came parallel with the door and looked in. The old boy, the General, was stretched out on the bed with his eyes closed, while Doctor Murphy affixed a bandage to his right arm. Rufus, his body bared to the waist, was slumped forward in a chair, sipping from a glass which Nurse Baker held for him.
    The position of her body slightly hiked the white skirt of her uniform, and Sloan got a glimpse of creamy pink flesh. Then, the doctor had turned, and was looking at him with a mixture of emotions in which resignation predominated.
    "All right, Sloan. Still after a drink, eh?" "As a matter of fact," Jeff began coldly Had he said he wanted a drink? Hadn't he only wanted to discuss a strictly business proposition?
    "Well?" "As a matter of fact"-Jeff swallowed heavily-"yes." The doctor frowned. "I don't know how in the hell you're… But, okay. Got your keys with you, Miss Baker?"
    "Yeth, thir."
    "Get Mr. Sloan a drink, then. Give him-uh, well-two ounces, and check his reactions after he takes it. Check him very carefully, understand?"
    "Yeth, doctor."
    "And I'll see you in my office as soon as you're finished."
    "Y-yeth, thir."
    Jeff Sloan followed her up the hall, wondering how a trick as cute as this had been allowed to run around loose so long. He considered the possibility of arranging a date for a few days hence, after he was back in circulation. But, intriguing as the idea was, he couldn't really get his mind on it for the moment. He'd have to think about it later, after he'd had-.
    After he'd demonstrated a thing or two to Doc Murphy.
    He watched. fidgeting, while she unlocked the liquor closet and filled a two-ounce glass. He was so anxious for the drink that he almost forgot to simulate the symptoms which the whiskey was supposed to bring on.
    He gulped the drink, sighed with relief and shuddered happily. Then, aware suddenly that she was watching him. he remembered, and he staggered and brushed at his brow.
    Miss Baker's hand shot out, steadying him. She felt his pulse. She looked up into his face, looked quickly away again, and released his wrist. Turning, she re-locked the liquor closet.
    "Feeling all right, Mithter Thloan?"
    "Well, not all right-exactly, but-"
    "Perhapth you'd better lie down a while."
    "Well, uh, maybe I had at that."
    A trifle worriedly, he watched her round the corner of the hall and head down the stairs. She must have known; he'd have sworn for a moment that she was going to say something. And right at the moment-Murphy didn't have him bulled a bit, understand-but right at the moment..

7
    Seated in his office, his long legs hooked about the scuffed base of his swivel chair, Doctor Murphy slowly closed the double-entry ledger and shoved it into a drawer of his roll-top desk… Well, that, at least, had been one thing he was right about. There wasn't a chance of keeping open without the Van Twyne money-without the fifteen thousand, cash on the line, which only they could and would provide.
    He'd been right about that, but it was about the only thing he was right about. As for everything else, he seemed to be off on the wrong foot entirely.
    He'd missed a trick with Susan Kenfield, something damned important, obviously, or she wouldn't be covering it up.
    The General