Микки Спиллейн: The Long Wait

Her voice was a soothing liquid washing away at the pain of it all. “If George Wilson was wanted, and if a certain doubly remarkable coincidence happened... first meeting a man who was so like him they couldn’t be told apart, and secondly having that man lose his memory in an accident... he certainly would take advantage of that situation, don’t you think? He could change identities and no one would be the wiser. Why, he even might have planned to kill this person and let the body be identified as himself until he actually discovered that there had been a memory loss.

“After that it would even be profitable to keep him alive. If the police ever did stumble on him they would have the wrong person entirely. It was such a profitable scheme that he died to keep this person alive. When you think of it, that one wasn’t a friend, but the worst enemy a man could have.”

It was too much for me. My teeth grated as I kept them together.

“That is,” she added, “if my supposition is true. Did you ever wonder why I let you make love to me? I thought I could tell. I’m still not too sure. But like you did me, I’ll give you every chance. Take off your clothes.”

I looked at her foolishly.

She meant it. The gun was still there on my stomach.

I took off my clothes.

“Johnny McBride had a scar exactly like that on his stomach,” she said.

I looked at it. Often I wondered how I had gotten it. She knew what I was thinking.

“It’s described in that army medical report in the envelope,” she said.

And she was right.

The pieces came flying back together. They were all there and not making much sense but there were enough of them so that I knew I would have it all some day. Little bits of jagged information. Things like the way I felt outside the Minnow house. Why a gun was so natural in my hand. It was too big to take all at once and I tried to put it out of my mind.

I dropped my head in my hands and pressed them against my face. Vera’s voice seemed to come from a long way off. “Now I’ll tell you why I did it, Johnny. I was never part of them. Gardiner told you to check those books and I saw you with them. I actually thought you did steal that money. You had bought this house and gave me ten thousand dollars to put away for us and wouldn’t say where you got it. It was a long time before I found out it represented everything you had ever saved.

“You see, Bob Minnow suspected something at the bank. He asked me privately to keep my eyes open and told me enough so that I had an idea what he was looking for. When I thought you were responsible for the theft and thought you did it to finance Servo, I went directly to Lenny to learn the truth for myself. Bob Minnow was shot in the meantime. I thought you did that too, but I still loved you. Lenny had you picked up at that vacation resort and had you hidden at your place. He gave me a choice... play along with him and let you get away, or turn you over to Lindsey. I didn’t know then that they planned to let you get away anyway.

“I did it, Johnny. I’m not sorry for what I did. I stayed with Lenny until I realized that he was under somebody else’s orders and did a little inquiring on my own. I checked on the bank and on Harlan and on Servo. During that time they found out what I was doing. I ran too.”

I saw the gun drop. It fell at her feet and landed on the skirt.

“I’ve been waiting, Johnny. Like you said, it’s been a long wait, but I knew you’d come back someday.”

There never had been any hardness about her. There was just beauty. And love. A crazy kind of love. A wonderful kind of love. It happened to me before and it was happening to me all over again. We were there in the bedroom stark naked with two guns on the floor shaking from an excitement that was bigger than the whole night put together.

She was smiling at me.

She said, “Johnny, empty out that envelope.”

My hand reached for it and it spilled all over the floor. It was filled with documents, but one was bigger than the rest. I could see what it said without picking it up. It was a marriage license issued to John McBride and Vera West and the date was a month before anything had happened.

“That’s how I knew about the scar,” she told me.

Her eyes were dancing.

I was hurting all over my body and inside my head. I was tired, dead tired.

But not that hurt and not that tired. We looked at the bed together. Her hand went out to the light.

I touched her. She was soft and warm. Beautiful. Mine.

“Leave the lights on,” I said.