Rex Stout - Alphabet Hicks

“Let go,” Hicks commanded. “I’m going to see what you were up to.”

“You are not!” She held on, tugging at him. “Give me — if you dare—”

Something hard and heavy came through the air and hit Hicks on the shoulder and staggered him. Swinging the beam of light, he saw Cooper, not ten feet away, straightening up with a second large rock clutched in his hand. Hurling Heather from him and leaping sidewise with one effort of all his muscles, he got the light on Cooper again just as he was letting the rock go. This time the missile caught him squarely in the chest and knocked the breath out of him. He faltered an instant, recovered, bounded forward, and landed on Cooper’s jaw just as he was coming up with another rock. The rock dropped to the ground with a soggy thud; Cooper, merely sinking in a heap, made no sound.

Hicks whirled with the light to Heather. She stood with one hand clutching her pajamas where they had been torn from her shoulder, unblinking against the light, her lips parted, like a wild thing in the woods.

“You hurt him,” she said harshly. “How much did you hurt him?”

“That’s a darned shame,” Hicks said sarcastically. He felt himself and took a deep breath and decided his ribs were intact. “He’ll survive. I might have got killed being romantic. I could have held you in my arms close to me and let the next one hit you.” He went and got her coat and held it behind her. “Put this on before you start sneezing.”

She let her arms go in and he pulled the coat around her and then flashed the light on her feet and saw that they were shod.

“Give me that light,” she demanded.

“When I get through with it. I’m going to see what it was you put in the brook. And don’t try any—”

“I didn’t put anything in the brook.”

“You had something in your hand. And you didn’t throw it in, you rolled up your pajamas and waded in. The most sensible thing you can do—”

“Listen.” She had his sleeve, was close to him, her face lifted to his. “Please listen! Will you listen to me?”

“Not all night.”

“What that was — what I put in the brook — it’s absolutely silly! It has nothing to do with anything!” She shook his arm. “You must believe me! It’s just simply absolutely nothing!”

“Okay, I’ll wade in and see if I can find nothing. I’ve already got one shoe full of water. And if you undertake anything like rock throwing, I’ll tear your pajamas into strings and tie you up, which is meant literally.”

“You’re a fine romantic, you are—”

Hicks pulled loose and stepped into the brook. A stone turned under his foot beneath the water. When he had recovered his balance he glanced over his shoulder at Heather, but apparently she intended no assault from the rear, so he went on. The water, nearly up to his knees, felt ice cold as it sloshed around his calves. Facing upstream, he got the light at the proper angle to make the bottom visible, and began the search. Bottom, consisting of brown rocks of various shapes and sizes, was all he saw. After some minutes he took bearings again from the big flat rock on the bank where she had previously left the flashlight, moved a few feet downstream and a little to the right, bent closer to the water for another/try, and saw a rock under the water of a different shape and color from any other. He peered at it. It was a rock — no, it was not a rock. He plunged his hand under the surface to feel it, and knew immediately, from its smoothness and circular edge, what it was — or rather, what they were; and in their middle, holding them down, was a heavy rock. He removed the rock, grasped the circular edge firmly, and came up with it.

An exclamation came from Heather.

Hicks waded back to the bank.

“You see?” Heather said through her teeth. “I told you it was nothing. You see?”

“I wouldn’t say that a dozen sonograph plates are simply absolutely nothing,” Hicks said dryly.

“It’s not a dozen, it’s eight,” Heather took a step. “Listen, Mr. Hicks. You were nice to me. I thought you liked me. Don’t you like me?”

“Sure, I’m crazy about you.”

“Don’t be like that. Please don’t. Give them to me. Or put them back where they were. Just put them back. Don’t you trust me? Do you think I’m a liar? I swear to you—”

“Save it,” Hicks said curtly. “We’re all going to catch pneumonia. Here’s the program. It’s a nice night for a concert — wait a minute.”

He put the light on Cooper, who was sitting on the ground staring blankly around.

“You, Cooper!” Hicks said. “George Cooper! Recognize the name?”

“Go to hell,” Cooper muttered. “Who are you?”

“He’s all right,” Hicks asserted. “Here’s the program. I’ll get him to the laboratory. I can manage without the light. You take it and go to the house and get the key to the office and bring it over. Then you can go back and go to bed.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Have a concert. Listen to these plates.”

“You are not!”

“I am.”

“I won’t get the key to the office.”

“Then I’ll wake Brager and get it from him.” Hicks patted her on the shoulder. “Use your head, dearie. You say you want these plates under a rock at the bottom of the brook, God knows why, but that’s what you want. Maybe after I listen to them I’ll put them back there. Maybe I won’t, but maybe I will. One thing sure, I’m not going to turn loose any of them before I hear what’s on them. As much as I like you. And you ought to put on some warm stockings. Take this light and go get the key.”

She took the light. “I’ll tell you one thing,” she said fiercely. “ I don’t like you. What about George? Why did you bring him back here? When you promised you wouldn’t?”

“I didn’t promise I wouldn’t. But I didn’t. He got away from me.”

“You’re lying!”

“All right, I’m lying. Which I am not. Ask him, but not now. Go get that key.”

She went. For a minute he watched the light bobbing along the path, then, stepping with care in the pitch dark, he moved toward the dim white blob that was Cooper’s face.

“What did you do with that candy?” he demanded.

“By God.” Cooper’s voice was a hoarse rumble. “So that’s who you are.”

“What did you do with it?”

“I ate it.”

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe it. You’d be as sick as a dog.”

“I am as sick as a dog.”

“Good. Get up. Can you stand up?”

“I don’t know.” Cooper made no movement. “Who are you, anyway?”

“My name is Hicks.”

“Hicks?” A pause. “Are you the one that pulled me away from her and pushed me in the house?”

“No.”

“What was his name?”

“I don’t know. Come on, get up. Here, grab my hand.”

“I’ll get up in a minute.” Cooper groaned. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me. Sometimes my head is as clear as a bell. Now it’s like — I don’t know. I wish to God I was dead. I thought I was dead. Did you ever think you were dead?”

“Often,” Hicks said.

“Often? I did once. I thought I was dead, and then there I was on a bed and I felt hungry. I never felt hungry like that before. I got up and looked around and found a box of candy in a drawer and sat down and ate it, and my head was as clear as a bell. I remembered everything. Everything! I drank too much. After Martha left me there in the restaurant, I began to drink. The reason I did that, I was getting up my nerve to go out there and have it out with Martha and Heather. I mean out here. We’re out here now. Aren’t we?”

“Sure we are,” Hicks said.