Charles Williams - Girl Out Back

“I know it pretty well,” I said. “It’s part of the job, and then I fish a lot myself. You thinking of trying it?”

“I thought I might, when my vacation comes up. What do you think of Sumner Lake?”

I took a sip of my coffee. “Well, it’s usually a good bet.”

“Have you been up there recently?”

“Yes,” I said. “Just a few days ago, in fact. For once, though, it let me down. August is a bad month.”

“Oh? Well, I was thinking of early October. Thanks a lot. If I do make it, I’ll stop by and talk to you.”

“Sure,” I said. “Any time. Be glad to help.”

The canteloup tasted like asbestos pipe-insulation, but I went ahead and forced it down. I paid the bill and drove over to the store. What was he after, anyway? Was he checking on me? For some reason I couldn’t determine, I suddenly thought of that Russian policeman—what was his name?— who haunted Raskolnikov at every turn.

Nuts, it was merely a coincidence. He just happened to want to go fishing; that’s all.

Otis had already opened up and was sweeping down the showroom. He came over and leaned the broom against the showcase to light a cigarette.

“Little trick I picked up in the army,” he said. “You watch till you see some brass coming and then grab a broom and sweep like hell.”

“Anything happen yesterday?” I asked. “Anybody force his way in and buy something before you could stop him?”

“Oh, sure. Matter of fact, I kept the place open till you were clear out of sight. Sold a five-horse motor. For cash. It’s in the safe.”

“Good,” I said. My heart wasn’t in it this morning.

Otis was silent for a moment. He started to turn away, but then appeared to change his mind about it. He balanced the broom on his foot, watching it moodily.

“Oh, yes,” he said. “I almost forgot. That guy Nunn called up a couple of hours after you’d left.”

“Oh?”

He nodded, still looking at the broom. “Wanted to talk to you, but I told him you’d gone for the rest of the day. So then he wanted to know where.”

“What was on his mind?” I asked. I didn’t like this much.

“He was crying about the job we did on his motors, as near as I could tell. I tried to get him to let me in on what he thought was the matter with ’em, but he just said he jumped you about ’em when you stayed out there last week.”

I looked at him quickly. He was still staring down at the broom. Well, there was Sunday. I could tell him that was when I’d been out there. Then I realized it was no use. Otis knew I’d lied about Sumner Lake. But why was he trying to tell me?

I made no reply. There appeared to be a shortage at the moment.

“Uh, boss,” he went on hesitantly, “about that twelve dollars a week you pay me. How much of that would you say was for personal advice?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “You break it down.”

“Well, look. I won a prize once for minding my own business. A whole new bedroom slipper—I think it was the left one. You say the word and I’ll keep right on after the other one.”

“That’s all right,” I said. “Spill it.”

“This Nunn is bad news. Believe me, boss. He’s hairy as hell. This is a little out of my line, but I just figured you might not know about him. He killed four men while he was in the Sheriff’s office over there

“Oh,” I said. I saw it now. Otis thought I was making a play for her. I sighed softly in relief. Well, it would look that way. We’d been here alone when she came for the motors, and then I’d taken off right after her. And she’d been calling here for me.

“I guess that’s about all,” he said. “No offense intended.”

“Of course not,” I replied. “Thanks.”

“Maybe I just got used to you. If something happens to you, I got to go looking around for some other slave-driving skinflint to exploit me.”

“I’d never forgive myself,” I agreed. I felt a lot better. “Suppose you fell into some evil dive where they expected you to work?”

“Sure,” he replied. You could see he was relieved, and glad to be through with it. “Like I was telling the old lady just this morning. Where else they got a pension plan that you can retire and live free in the dog pound as soon as you’re a hundred and five? I get this lump in my throat every time I think about it.. . .”

We had it all settled without getting weepy about it. I was to stay out of the sack with Mrs. Nunn. He went back to sweeping. I checked yesterday’s receipts, made up the deposit, and locked it in the safe. He’d given me a scare there for a moment, but everything was fine. I knew, though, that I was never going to feel entirely at ease until I could clear out of here. Utterly harmless things would be forever making me jumpy when I read the wrong meaning into them. It’d happened twice so far this morning, and it wasn’t nine o”clock. You had to be on guard all the time to keep from giving yourself away. More than one badly wanted man had been picked up by a cop who’d meant to do nothing more than give him a parking ticket.

Fortunately, business was good, so I didn’t have too much time on my hands. At ten I went over and made the bank deposit and had a cup of coffee. When I returned a local car salesman came in to talk about boats and try to sell me a new station wagon.

I was up front alone just after eleven when the telephone rang. Otis looked out the door of the shop, but went back when he saw I was going to answer.

As soon as I picked up the receiver I was glad he had. It was Jewel Nunn.

“Oh, how are you?” I asked, wishing she’d stop this. Being killed by George Nunn would be carrying an alibi too far.

“Are you busy?” she asked.

“Well, fairly so.” If she thought I was going to drive down to Hampstead she was crazy. “You running errands again this morning?”

“No . . . I mean, nothing important. I just thought I’d give you a ring while I was here at the drug store. There was something I wanted to tell you. . . .”

“Sure,” I said. “Fire away.”

“I don’t think I ought to over the phone.”

“Hey,” I protested, “that’s not fair, getting my curiosity all aroused. I wish I could get away, but I just don’t see. . . .”

“Well, it’s not real important, anyway,” she said. “It’s just about Mr. Cliffords. You remember . . .”

I went cold all over and I could feel a thousand needles stabbing at my back. He couldn’t have been found yet; even in water that warm his body wouldn’t float this soon. What in hell did she mean?

“Cliffords?” I said, wondering if my voice was all right. “Oh, yes, sure. The little man who reads comic books. What’s he done?”

“It’s not anything much, really. And I don’t think I ought . . .”

“Never mind about Cliffords,” I put in quickly. “I want to see you. Can I, if I can get away?”

“Do you really want to?”

”Of course I do. Look. It may take me about an hour, but I’ll be there. At the same place?”

“All right,” she said softly. “Good-bye, Barney.”

“Good-bye” I hung up and took a deep breath. Relax, I thought. Don’t start walking up the walls. They couldn’t have found him this soon. And what if they have? It doesn’t make a bit of difference. Anyway, it’s just some silly thing she remembered about him.

I went back and leaned against a bench and watched Otis while he worked on a motor. Every minute was like ten. I wanted to yell at him to go on and get his lunch and hurry back. It was a quarter to twelve before he put down the tools and started scrubbing his hands.

He finally left. I prowled the showroom, unable to sit still. It was twelve fifteen when he came back. I stooged around for a few minutes and then announced boredly I’d go get something myself and stop in at the post-office on the way back. I was doing seventy-five when I passed the city limits.