Chapter 10
You should have seen my shop and living quarters after being gone three days. Dust was thick on everything. I wondered how it could gather so fast.
So I kept the shades down in the front and spent the morning cleaning up. Let the town simmer. If they were divided about me, why should I open? My living expenses were low. Sy Perkins had told me that morning, when he brought my car to me, that I should stay closed for a week. Let everyone go to Broken Tree for a haircut for a while and it would cool everybody off.
By noon I was hungry. So I fixed a salad and had a cheese sandwich with a can of beer. And I was just drying the last dishes when Sy came to the kitchen door.
I glanced at the clock as I unlocked the door. It was nearly one.
"Hi," I greeted, as Sy walked in. "I've been trying to clean up around here."
Sy nodded. "Since when did you start playing the stock market."
Panic hit me. I fought to keep my face blank. "Why?" I asked.
"Sharon Michaels just called. She said to tell you she wasn't going to buy that stock for you. It had just fallen."
I nodded. My belly was in knots. I had to get the hell out of there.
"Thanks, Sy," I said, trying to appear nonchalant. "I saw Sharon yesterday afternoon. She told me about her hobby of playing the stock market. She said that for ten dollars she could get me started on some mining stock. That it would be a good hobby for me. So I told her to go ahead."
Sy nodded and squinted at me.
I laughed. "Oh, I know it's silly. But all I've got is a radio here. She says it's fun to read the stock quotations every day. It's like playing the horses."
"Yeah. And it's a good way to lose your shirt. I'm glad you didn't get started. If you're smart, you won't."
"I probably won't," I told him. "But when you're all alone and lonely, you sometimes do silly things."
"Yeah." He headed for the door and opened it. He looked back. "Tim's looking after you, isn't he?"
"Yes. I'm to see him tonight."
"Well, you won't be lonesome as long as he's here."
"Yeah. I'll miss him when he goes back."
Sy went out the door and I closed it and locked it. I planted my back against it and ran my fingers through my hair.
So I had been indicted for murder. I had forgotten to ask Sy if Tim knew about it. But I was sure that Sharon would get to him somehow. But Tim had told me I couldn't get out on bail on a murder charge. So there was nothing he could do for me until the trial.
Fortunately my car was out back. I started toward the bedroom. Then I stopped. No, I couldn't take a bag with me. Someone might see me and tell the cops. They'd put out an alarm. I'd be a fugitive.
So, I had to go out with the clothes on my back, as though I were going for a drive or for a short run. I had to play it cool. I had to act as if I didn't have a care in the world.
I went to my closet. I had another seersucker dress. It was green. That should be casual enough.
Ten minutes later I was dressed and heading out the back door. I hadn't had time to shower or clean up much. But it was possible that a cop would be there any minute.
I locked the back door and sauntered casually to my car. I climbed in.
I backed slowly into the alley and curved left. Clem Purtle was coming down the alley toward me. I put it into low and started forward. He waved.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
I hit the brake. "I've got to go see about my laundry."
He cackled and turned his head to spit a stream of tobacco juice. He looked back at me. "Thought you was goin' up to see that Riley feller."
I shook my head and started slowly forward. "Not today," I told him
"When are you openin' up again?"
"I don't know. Mr. Riley said he would tell me when to."
He nodded. "Seems like he's runnin' things for you."
"He's my attorney," I told him. "So I have to do what he says."
Clem nodded as I pulled away. I drove slowly. Clem was probably watching me. I glanced into my mirror. He was.
I hit the cross street and turned right. I stopped at Main Street and looked both ways. There was no traffic. But Lon Hodges was coming down the walk on my right. He waved. I waved back.
Lon would remember seeing me. So I pulled slowly into the street and left and drove slowly to the next turn. But after the turn I stepped on it.
My old car didn't have the brakes that Tim's car had. So I had to take it easy. But I soon passed the turnoff where we had gone to Pete's place. I remembered it because of an old tree at the turnoff that had been split by lightning.
I glanced into the mirror. Nothing. I stepped down on the gas, since the road was straight ahead for a stretch.
Just before the next turn I saw the sign: The Hideaway.
Again I glanced into my mirror. Nothing. I wheeled left, hoping nobody would come roaring around the turn just below me.
I bounced across an unpaved parking lot and stopped near the front entrance. I climbed out and went inside. As I opened the door the smell of stale beer and sweat rushed out to greet me. I went on inside. It was dark as a bat cave. So I stood just inside the door, getting accustomed to the gloom.
I finally saw a scarred and battered bar running down the wall to my left. Beat-up stools, held together by wire, marched down the room in front of the bar. There was a big juke box at the rear. And there were booths on the right.
The bartender was a big brute with a bald head and a red face and cleft chin. He was heading toward the rear.
I stood there for a moment, wondering if I should take a stool. But I decided against it. Ladies are served in a booth.
So I headed for a booth halfway back, and sat down facing the door. I felt like a damn fool. What was I going to say? That I had heard the place was full of spies, and I wanted to join up?
The bartender came lumbering up from the rear. I glanced up at him as I opened my purse.
"Hi," I greeted.
He nodded and said nothing. His face was as grim as a prison wall.
I tried to play it cool. I pulled a cigarette and put it to my lips, wondering if he would light it. He didn't. He just kept standing there staring at me. J had to do something.
So I said, "You sure look cheerful. Did your mother-in-law move in this morning?"
He broke into a grin and shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."
He pulled a book of matches from his shirt pocket and struck one. He held it to my cigarette.
"Thanks," I murmured.
"You're new around here, aren't you?"
"Yes and no. I've been in Slocum for a little over a month. I'm surprised you haven't been up to see me."
He grinned again. "Say, aren't you the barber up there?"
I nodded and blew smoke at him.
"They've sure given you a rough time, from what I hear."
"Yeah," I agreed. "Damn rough. And now the D.A. is chasing me again."
"What do you mean?"
"You might say I'm running for my life," I told him. He nodded. "Want something to drink?"
"Yes. A martini, very dry."
He turned and went back behind the bar and went to work. I forced myself to stare straight ahead. But I knew he was watching me.
I finally turned and looked over at him. "Where does this road go to?"
"Depends on where you want to go," he told me.
"No place in particular. I just want to put as much mileage between me and this county as I can and as soon as I can."
"What are you driving?"
"Not much. It's ten years old. It won't do over fifty wide open."
"You got a lawyer?"
"Yes."
"Does he know you're running?"
"No."
He came around the bar with my drink. He set it on the table.
"You're a damn fool to run without telling your lawyer. Hell, you won't get a hundred miles before they nab you. Then you'll get an even rougher ride for running."
I nodded and picked up my drink.
"Did anyone see you leave up there?"
"Yes."
"Did they see which way you were going?"
"Yes. But I told one of them I was going to get my laundry. That was just down the grade. So I did nothing suspicious."
"Yeah.. But if you don't show up, the cops will come roaring down the grade here after you. Is your car out front?"
"Yes."
He shoved out a big hand. "Give me your keys. I'll put it out behind."
"Why?"
"Don't argue. Give me your keys. Quick."
I opened my purse and fished out my keys. He grabbed them and half-ran to the door.
I worked on my drink and cigarette and stared at the front door. I wondered why he had offered to hide my car.
I heard my car's engine roar. Then all was still again except for some machinery chugging away behind the bar.
I heard a screen door slam out back. I heard his heavy footsteps. He came up to me and dropped my keys on the table.
"What should I do?" I asked. "Call my lawyer?"
"Who you got?"
"Tim Riley."
He nodded. "Heard he was in town. Good lawyer, I hear, too."
"He specializes in criminal law."
"Yeah. He got a friend of mine off a few years back."
"So should I call him?"
He shook his head. "You can't get bail on a murder rap.
"So what should I do? Yon say I shouldn't ran."
"I dunno. We'll figure something out." Tires screeched outside. There was a flash of Mack as a car pulled in.
He grabbed my arm with one hand and the drink with the other. "Get your purse. Hurry."
He hustled me through a doorway and kicked it shut. You couldn't see a foot ahead of you. He shoved me to the left and I put out my hand. I was going through a doorway.
"Stay quiet," he ordered.
I heard a door click shut. Then I heard glass clinking together. I wondered what he was doing.
I heard his footsteps. A door squeaked back. "Hi," he yelled.
I put my ear to the door and stood there shaking. "Hi, Adolph," another voice said. "What are you boys having?" Adolph asked. "Nothing. We're looking for a woman."
"In broad daylight? Hell, you must have hot rocks."
"We're not going to lay her," Another voice said. "If we find her, we'll throw her butt in jail."
"What for?"
"Murder. She killed Johnny Blake. The Grand Jury just indicted her this morning."
"Have you seen her?" the other voice asked.
"No," Adolph said. "Nobody's been in here since before noon. You know how it is-starvation all day and run my legs off all night."
"Yeah. But if you see anything of her, will you let us know?"
"Sure," Adolph said. "But why would she come in here?"
"She took off down the grade this way about a half-hour or so ago. She can't be very far ahead of us. We'll catch her."
"Thanks," the other voice said.
I heard the screen slam. A car's engine roared and then purred. Then all was quiet.
I finally heard the door squeak back. I pulled my door open a little.
"It's okay now," he told me. "Come on out. I'll fix you a fresh drink."
I went back to my booth and sat down. My cigarette was burning my fingers. I stubbed it out and lit another one.
He brought another drink over to me.
"That was close," I said.
"Yeah. But it's what I expected. You were seen heading down this way. They'll have roadblocks thrown up everywhere. Hell, you're boxed."
I nodded and dragged on my cigarette. I tried to look worried. But I said nothing. I knew the wheels were going around in his head. So I stayed clammed.
He turned and went back behind the bar. He began washing glasses. Again I forced myself to stare at the door. It might take a little time for something to trickle down through his thick head.
"Say," he finally said, "I've got an idea. I've got a friend who might hide you out."
I shook my head. "That's against the law. He could wind up in jail or worse for doing that."
He laughed. "He ain't worrying about the law any. But I don't know whether he'll take you in. I can call him if you want me to."
I bit my tongue and made myself stay silent for a moment. I glanced over at him and then stared again at the front door. I frowned and acted as if I were trying to decide what to do.
"Hell, you ain't got no choice," he finally exploded. "If the cops don't find you at the foot of the grade, they'll come on back up here. They'll probably be in here again in a half-hour or so."
"Well, you can hide me again, can't you?"
He shook his head. "I've got a license to protect. If they search the place and find you here, I'm out of business. You've got to get out of here and fast."
"Well then, why don't you turn me out into the brush?" I asked.
"Don't be cute. But you're puttin' me on the spot. Either you let me call Eddie, or I'm callin' the cops. I can tell them you just walked in."
Again I hesitated. I wanted to get him into a sweat.
"Well, what'll it be-Eddie or the cops?"
I looked over at him and let smoke dribble from my nose. I didn't know whether I looked like Mata Hari, but I was trying to do a damn good imitation of it.
"Okay, call your friend," I said, pitching my voice low. "But if he can't offer me anything better than the cops then I'll take the cops."
He nodded. "That's fair enough, I guess."
He headed toward the rear and opened a door and closed it behind him. I was tempted to go over and eavesdrop. But if he caught me doing that....
I was dumping my cigarette and lighting another when he came thudding over to me.
"Eddie will be here in a few minutes. But I can't have you sittin' out here. Come on. And bring your drink."
I slid from the booth and followed him through the rear doorway again. This time he turned on a light before kicking the door shut. He led me to the rear and opened the door on the right. He reached inside and there was a click.
"Downstairs," he told me.
I followed him down the stairs into musty gloom. Rats scurried around somewhere in the darkness.
"If you think I'm going to stay down here alone, you're nuts," I told him.
"Bon't get your butt boiling. It'll be okay."
I heard a door open. Again there was a click. Through the doorway I saw a lamp en a table.
"ta here and qakk," he said, "f've got to get back upstairs."
I went inside and he foHowed. It was a smaH living room.
"These are some rooms I use during the winter, if I get snowbound here. You'H be safe and comfortable here. There's a kitchen and a bedroom back there. So make yourself at home."
He turned and went out the door. He opened it again.
"I might be searched. So I've got to take precautions. But don't be scared. You'll be okay."
He closed the door again. I heard a rumbling sound. I wondered what it was.
I turned and went to the rear and through a doorway. I was in a short hall. To the left was a bath. To the right was a small kitchen. And straight ahead was a small bedroom.
I went into the kitchen and started opening doors and drawers. Hell, that place was stocked like a grocery store with a liquor department. There was every kind of booze imaginable. I turned to the refrigerator. It was a combo. I opened the freezer drawer below. It was full of steaks and frozen goods and ice cubes. Enough to keep you going for a month. I opened the refrigerator. There was every kind of mix on the top shelf. Below was Oleo and beer.
I looked up at the ceiling, wondering where a whirring sound was coming from. Then I realized the place was air conditioned.
I went back into the living room. I looked around. It was nothing fancy. But there was a couch along one wall and a massive chair in one corner. Also a table with a radio on it.
I went over to the radio and glanced at the dial. I did a double-take. It had a police band on it and a short wave band.
I looked around the room again. What a hideaway this would make. Maybe that's why the saloon was called that.
I went to the front door and opened it. I stared at a blank wall or wood. He had shoved a cabinet or something across the door to hide it. I shoved against it. I'd have more chance if I shoved against the building.
I was trapped. I was a prisoner. I wondered, what now?
Panic hit me for a moment. But I fought it down. By now, probably, Tim would know that I was missing. So he'd organize a search party. And when he told Sharon I was missing, she might tell him where I had gone.
And then another thought hit me. Adolph didn't want to hide me there in case the place was searched. And then he put me up down in the basement and pulled a cabinet in front of the door. No cops would find me. So why had he called Eddie in?
I went into the kitchen and built a drink. I carried it back into the living room and sat down.
There was only one answer to it. He was holding me for Eddie, so Eddie could recruit me. For what, I didn't know. Adolph had said Eddie was not worrying about the law. That meant he was in something illegal. And Eddie wouldn't hide me just out of the goodness of his heart. He would expect something from me in return. The question was, what?
I got up and went over to turn on the radio. I jabbed at the button for the police band. And there it was. Cars were calling back and forth to each other, and reporting in, that they had found no trace of me yet. And I had to laugh at one cop who said it was damn funny how I could have evaporated so fast.
Their next step would be to search every building down the grade and on beyond. But that would take time. In time, however, they would come back to search The Hideaway.
I was so wrapped up listening to the police broadcast that I didn't notice the front door opening. So when I glanced toward the front, I jumped.
A small thin man in a dark suit stood there. His black hair looked like it had been painted on his head. He had a toothbrush mustache. And he had the hooded eyes of a lizard.
I noticed the wood wall behind him. We were both prisoners there.
He closed the door and went to the radio and turned it off. He looked at me.
"So what are you going to do now?"
Again I tried to play Mata Hari. So I merely shrugged and blew smoke at him.
"You haven't got a chance, you know," he told me.
I nodded but said nothing.
"Old man Blake has turned on the heat. That's why they're chasing you again. So you haven't got the chance of a popsicle in Hell."
I managed to stay cold and aloof. "So what's your pitch?" I asked.
"I don't have any. But the boss might have."
"Okay, so what do I have to do to see your boss? Put out?"
"Want to?"
"Try it," I told him, "and I'll slit you low down."
He nodded. "You look the type. What are you, a goddamn dyke?"
"That's none of your business," I said. "So what do I have to do to see your boss?"
"Just stay here and keep your mouth shut. There's plenty of food back there for you. You can have the radio if you keep it low. When you get sleepy, go on to bed. Can't get you out of here until after they close. So it may be three or four in the morning before I get you out of here."
"So where are you taking me?"
"That's none of your business."
"So you're going to haul me out of here to God knows where, and until I get there I won't know what I have to do to be hidden out."
"That's just about it. You don't have any choice."
I stood up. "I have a message for your boss. Tell him to go to hell."
He stared at me. "So what are you going to do?"
"Damfino. But I don't play that kind of odds. When you go back up, tell Adolph to call the cops to come and get me.
He nodded and headed toward the door. He opened it and turned to look back. "You mean that?"
"Damn right I do. Tell me where I'm going and what I have to do. Then I'll decide what I want to do."
He sneered. "Again I say you have no choice. You're going to be railroaded to the gas chamber. So you might as well throw in with us."
"Not until I know what I have to do."
He stared at me for a moment, looking even more like a sleepy lizard.
"Okay, I'll tell you," he finally said.
He hesitated and continued staring at me.
"Okay," I said, "what will I have to do?"
"Kill a man," he told me.