Read Online 1981 - Hand Me a Fig Leaf by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online
Authors: James Hadley Chase
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sitting-room.
"Have a drink on the house," she said and went to a built-in refrigerator. "Scotch?"
"Only if you'll join me."
"I prefer gin." As she made the drinks, she went on, "You'll like the food here. Don't eat anywhere else. Our cook is really fancy." She handed me the drink, waved hers at me and drank. She sighed, then again smiled at me. "At this time of the day, I need a drink. My dad doesn't approve."
"Every hard-working soul needs a drink at eleven thirty in the morning," I said and sampled the Scotch. It was smooth and good.
"They tell me you are a private eye," she said. "We don't get any excitement in this dump. Is it true you are looking for Johnny Jackson?"
Feeling this might turn into a long session, I sat down and waved her to the other chair.
“I’ll just freshen this," she said and waved her little bottom at me as she bent to the refrigerator. I was startled to see her glass was empty. She refilled, then sat down. "Is it right about Johnny Jackson?"
"Yes."
"Wasn't it a terrible thing that old man Jackson shot himself?"
"These things happen."
"Yes, I suppose. Old people haven't much to live for, have they?"
"Some have, some haven't."
She gulped down half her drink.
"I'd hate to be old."
"Well, it comes. Did you know Johnny Jackson?"
"I went to school with him." She gave me a knowing look, then giggled. "I miss him. All the girls were after him, but be didn't care for any of them, except me."
If Johnny Jackson had gone missing six years ago, she would have been around sixteen. Well, if she wasn't kidding me, boys and girls in a hick town like Searle started sex early.
"From what I hear," I said, "Johnny didn't care for girls."
"That's right. That's absolutely right. He was the kind who only went with one girl. . . that was me."
She finished the drink. "Do you think you'll find him?"
"I don't know. I hope so. That's my job."
She leaned forward, her pretty face now flushed by the gin. "I want you to. I miss him."
"From what I've been told he went off six years ago. That's a long time for a pretty girl like you to remember a kid and still miss him."
"He was special. He wasn't like the other slobs here. He had brains: I'm willing to bet he's now a big success somewhere, making lots of money. She sighed. "I dream he'll come back and take me away from this god-awful dump." She stared at the empty glass, her face downcast.
"Did he ever talk about leaving?"
She shook her head.
"He never talked about himself. He never talked about his grandpa."
"What did he talk about then?"
Her eyes shifted.
"Well, you know. We were kids. Sometimes he'd talk about love or how tough the world is for kids. I could listen to him for hours." She looked furtively at the refrigerator. "I guess I'll freshen this." She waved her glass.
"Let it rest, Peggy. Gin isn't good for nice little girls: not too much of it."
She made a face at me.
"What makes you think I'm nice?" She got up and poured another slug of gin into her glass. "No one else does in this god-awful dump."
"Why not?"
She was now more than high. She sneered.
"They'll tell you. The only decent kid ever in this gossip-ridden shit-hole was Johnny."
"Did you and Johnny have a thing together?"
"Why don't you say it? I wanted to but Johnny said real love wasn't like that, and that came when marriage came." She tossed off her drink, staggered a little, let the glass slip out of her hand to drop on the carpet, then, looking wildly at me, she said, a sob in her voice, "That's why I want him found! I want him to come back here and marry me! Find him! Hear me!" and, turning, she lurched out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
By the time I had washed and unpacked, it was time for lunch and I was hungry. I went down to the restaurant. There were around a dozen couples, mostly men, already eating. Everyone looked at me as I came in: some of them gave me a smile, others just nodded. I was sure everyone in the big airy room knew I was an operator
"Have a drink on the house," she said and went to a built-in refrigerator. "Scotch?"
"Only if you'll join me."
"I prefer gin." As she made the drinks, she went on, "You'll like the food here. Don't eat anywhere else. Our cook is really fancy." She handed me the drink, waved hers at me and drank. She sighed, then again smiled at me. "At this time of the day, I need a drink. My dad doesn't approve."
"Every hard-working soul needs a drink at eleven thirty in the morning," I said and sampled the Scotch. It was smooth and good.
"They tell me you are a private eye," she said. "We don't get any excitement in this dump. Is it true you are looking for Johnny Jackson?"
Feeling this might turn into a long session, I sat down and waved her to the other chair.
“I’ll just freshen this," she said and waved her little bottom at me as she bent to the refrigerator. I was startled to see her glass was empty. She refilled, then sat down. "Is it right about Johnny Jackson?"
"Yes."
"Wasn't it a terrible thing that old man Jackson shot himself?"
"These things happen."
"Yes, I suppose. Old people haven't much to live for, have they?"
"Some have, some haven't."
She gulped down half her drink.
"I'd hate to be old."
"Well, it comes. Did you know Johnny Jackson?"
"I went to school with him." She gave me a knowing look, then giggled. "I miss him. All the girls were after him, but be didn't care for any of them, except me."
If Johnny Jackson had gone missing six years ago, she would have been around sixteen. Well, if she wasn't kidding me, boys and girls in a hick town like Searle started sex early.
"From what I hear," I said, "Johnny didn't care for girls."
"That's right. That's absolutely right. He was the kind who only went with one girl. . . that was me."
She finished the drink. "Do you think you'll find him?"
"I don't know. I hope so. That's my job."
She leaned forward, her pretty face now flushed by the gin. "I want you to. I miss him."
"From what I've been told he went off six years ago. That's a long time for a pretty girl like you to remember a kid and still miss him."
"He was special. He wasn't like the other slobs here. He had brains: I'm willing to bet he's now a big success somewhere, making lots of money. She sighed. "I dream he'll come back and take me away from this god-awful dump." She stared at the empty glass, her face downcast.
"Did he ever talk about leaving?"
She shook her head.
"He never talked about himself. He never talked about his grandpa."
"What did he talk about then?"
Her eyes shifted.
"Well, you know. We were kids. Sometimes he'd talk about love or how tough the world is for kids. I could listen to him for hours." She looked furtively at the refrigerator. "I guess I'll freshen this." She waved her glass.
"Let it rest, Peggy. Gin isn't good for nice little girls: not too much of it."
She made a face at me.
"What makes you think I'm nice?" She got up and poured another slug of gin into her glass. "No one else does in this god-awful dump."
"Why not?"
She was now more than high. She sneered.
"They'll tell you. The only decent kid ever in this gossip-ridden shit-hole was Johnny."
"Did you and Johnny have a thing together?"
"Why don't you say it? I wanted to but Johnny said real love wasn't like that, and that came when marriage came." She tossed off her drink, staggered a little, let the glass slip out of her hand to drop on the carpet, then, looking wildly at me, she said, a sob in her voice, "That's why I want him found! I want him to come back here and marry me! Find him! Hear me!" and, turning, she lurched out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
By the time I had washed and unpacked, it was time for lunch and I was hungry. I went down to the restaurant. There were around a dozen couples, mostly men, already eating. Everyone looked at me as I came in: some of them gave me a smile, others just nodded. I was sure everyone in the big airy room knew I was an operator
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