Wild Town by Jim Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

Negro. It wasn’t because she was stupid, as Westbrook said. She was obviously smarter, and better educated, than most of the Hanlon’s white employees. Neither was it because of the aggressive arrogance which Bugs had found in so many Negros, and which had always made him so excruciatingly uncomfortable around them. They—that type of Negro—hit you in the face with their color. They drew a line, then despised you if you came over to their side and hated you if you stayed on your own. Rosalie Vara, on the other hand…well, Rosie was just herself. An exceptionally pretty and nice-mannered young woman who happened to be a Negro, and who saw no reason either to flaunt or conceal the fact.
    “Well”—she picked up her work bucket and cleaning equipment—“it looks like I’m all through, Mr. McKenna. Thanks again for the coffee.”
    “Not at all. Thank you, ” Bugs said. “Well, guess I’ll probably run into you later on tonight, huh?”
    “Yes, sir. ’Bye, now, Mr. McKenna.”
    She left, her small round hips swinging. A few minutes later, as Bugs was preparing to leave, Olin Westbrook pounded on the door.
    Bugs opened it. The manager pushed past him brusquely, seated himself, and pointed imperiously to a chair in front of him. “Sit down. Sit down, I said! I’ve got some things to say to you, and it’s going to take a little time.”
    “Well, sure, Ollie…” Bugs sat down. “What’s on your mind?”
    “I’ll tell you. But I’ve got a question to ask first. What do you think of me, personally, that is? Think I’m on the square? Got any kicks about the way I’ve treated you since you’ve been here?”
    “Why do you ask that?” Bugs looked at him frowning. “Has anyone said that—?”
    “Just answer me, dammit! You came here green as a gourd. Have I or have I not done everything that a man could do to put you on the right track and keep you there?”
    “You have. No one could have been more helpful, and I’ve tried to tell you how much I appreciate it. Now—”
    “Then you do owe me a favor? I helped you when you needed it, and I’m not out of line in asking you to help me now?”
    “That’s right.” Bugs nodded curiously. “Look, Ollie. Let’s lay it on the line. I’m going to be pretty short until payday, but you can have what I’ve got. And if there’s anything else that I—”
    “It’s something else. It’s Dudley—you know, the auditor. He’s my baby. I hired him over the old man’s objections. All right. Hanlon was right about him. In the last quarter, Dudley’s knocked down more than five thousand dollars. Between five and six—I can’t say exactly how much. I want you to get it back from him.”
    “Me?” Bugs gave a start. “Oh, you mean you want me to put him under arrest. Turn him over to the cops and file a complaint—”
    “No! I don’t mean that, because I can’t prove he’s stolen it. I know he has, understand. We’ve done just as much business this quarter as we did last, but we’ve got five or six thousand less to show for it. So—”
    “But—but how—” Bugs was beginning to see where the conversation was drifting, and it frightened him stiff. “But—”
    “What’s the difference how? There’s a thousand and one ways an auditor can knock down. He can’t do it in a place where there’s other auditors, a system of checks and rechecks. But—” Westbrook flung up his hand in exasperation. “Look. Hotel books are kept in pencil!—the transcript sheets, the cash sheets, everything. They have to be because they’re running accounts. New charges being added all the time. Erasures, and changes are taken as a matter of course. All right, then—just to give you one trick for knocking down. A guest checks in one night. He doesn’t leave until after our check-out period the following night, so naturally we charge him for two days. But in hours, he’s actually only been here one day, and by altering his folio and the cash