Where Is Janice Gantry? by John D. MacDonald Read Free Book Online Page B

Trespassing, No Deep Breathing. There is a barricade and a turnaround at the end. In the summer you can risk parking there and walking out along a narrowing sandpitto a good place to cast out into Horseshoe Pass after mackerel and blues. But if you try it in the winter season, you can find your car expensively ticketed.
    I hung well back and didn’t speed up until I saw the Renault turn left. When I made the turn the road was empty. No small ruby taillights. The road was straight for so far, I knew they had ducked off, and I would have had a lot of trouble learning where—had I not seen too much light coming out of Tom Earle’s office.
    I slowed down and as I went by, saw the two of them walking from the front door back toward Tom’s private office. Evidently they had just walked in and she had clicked on the additional light a moment before I saw it. The Renault was tucked close to the side of the building, its lights out. I used a motel drive for a U-turn and when I went by again I could see neither of them. I turned into the small parking area next to the Best Beach Bar, cut the lights and motor and wondered what the hell to do next. It had ceased being any of my business, and I should have gone home. If Sis got into any trouble, it would be Cal McAllen’s problem, not mine. I could think of no reason in the world for her to have taken Charlie right to the office. It bothered me.
    I got out and rubbed a thumbnail along the evening bristle on my jaw. I yearned for my dark porch, a tall drink, and the special timing of Miss Lee.
    But I kept remembering Tom’s office had two windows on the rear of the building. So I went back there, stepping on something that broke with a sharp snapping sound, then kicking an empty can a dozen feet—about as stealthy as a drunken actor falling into the drums. An unseen cat spoke irritably to me. A mosquito did slow rolls inside my ear.
    The blinds were down, the slats closed, but like most Venetian blinds the closure was less than perfect. From the first window I could see a section of the closed door and a segment of red leather couch and an edge of one of Tom’s framedpictures of himself receiving an award of some kind for civic virtue. The other window was better. I could see part of the shoulder of the sport shirt I had given Charlie, and I had a closeup of the back of his ear, so close that I was startled into backing away. I looked again, over his shoulder, and I saw a slice of Sis’s face. She was sitting at the desk, talking into Tom’s red telephone. He has a fixation about red, from T Bird and speedboat to his wife’s gaudy hair. But the reds he surrounds himself with make her look like gray carroty death.
    The windows were sealed shut. I could see the movement of her lips, but I could hear no sound. Charlie moved out of my range of vision and reappeared beside Sis, bending to whisper into her ear as she momentarily covered the mouthpiece.
    Many things dropped neatly into place all of a sudden. Charlie had been happy to sacrifice his freedom as some unknown service to Charity Weber. He had changed his mind in prison. He had to get hold of Charity. She would be the one who could clear him. He couldn’t risk phoning her. Sis could make the call and perhaps decoy Charity Weber into a situation where Charlie could get to her and talk to her. Once it was set up, he would have no more need for Sis’s services. Suddenly I remembered how very calm Charlie had seemed after he had gotten some rest. It wasn’t a very healthy calm. Suppose he was using Sis to decoy the woman into a situation where he could kill her. With his hands. He hadn’t wanted the gun. That would be nice. That would be very nice for everybody.
    So it wouldn’t hurt to follow the whole deal a little longer.
    I wanted to be in the car, ready to go. I started back toward my car. I had to pass once again behind the big new furniture store between the Best Beach Bar and the office.
    After I had gone forty feet