Read Online 1981 - Hand Me a Fig Leaf by James Hadley Chase - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Hadley Chase
Ads: Link
Everyone here is sorry for him so they give Peggy a cover-up." Again he glanced at me. "What you call a fig-leaf. But recently, the word is out, she's hitting the bottle."
"I've heard she and Johnny were close."
"That's news to me. Johnny wasn't interested in girls. Anyway, Peggy would have been the last girl a guy like Johnny would tie up with. He was a serious kid."
"You knew him at school?"
"Oh, sure. I had no time for him. Okay, he was top of the school, but he was a loner." He began to drive up the narrow lane leading to Jackson's cabin. "He was an odd-bod. Some of the boys wanted to rough him up. I remember there was a gang that decided it was time to give him the treatment. I was one &them. We got him in a corner of the playground. The idea was to smear him with paint." He rubbed his chin. "We had this can of paint and a big brush. He stood quietly, facing us. He made no attempt to run away. He just stood there, looking at us." He shrugged. "I don't know, but it suddenly wasn't fun anymore. There was something about him that stopped us dead. We all suddenly lost interest or maybe we felt we were being stupid kids and he was grown-up. I can't explain it. There was this ,ready, unafraid look in his eyes that put him behind a high wall. We made the usual gang noises, then suddenly we all walked away. From then on, we left him alone."
He swung the car to a standstill outside the cabin.
"Well, here we are," he said and got out of the car.
Together, we walked to the front door and pushed it open. The blowflies had left. There was still the smell of decay. The only sound was the distant croaking of frogs.
"Did you check that old Jackson had a gun licence, Bill?" I asked as I stood looking around.
"Yup. He had a shotgun licence, but not for the Beretta."
"Did you check if Dr. Steed had a licence for the Beretta?"
"Yup. He didn't."
"Did you check if anyone in Searle owned a Beretta?"
"Yup. No one in Searle owns or has owned a Beretta."
I nodded approvingly.
"You're doing your homework."
"I want to work for Colonel Parnell."
"At the rate you are going, that's what you'll do. Now, let's take a good look around."
We spent the next hour and a half carefully searching the entire cabin. We came up with nothing: no letters, no bills, no photographs. As I looked into the empty drawers of the old bureau, it seemed to me someone had been here before us and had made a clean sweep of everything. I couldn't accept that old Jackson, who had lived here for years, hadn't kept some letter, some papers.
"Looks like we're too late, Bill," I said.
"That's what it looks like." He was kneeling by the bed, peering under it. "Something here."
Together we shoved the bed aside and found a good-sized hole in the floor, half covert d with a wooden lid. I moved aside the lid and stared into the empty hole.
I looked at Bill who was staring over my shoulder. "Maybe he kept money here," I said. "Did you check if he had a bank account at Searle?"
"Yup. He didn't."
I sat back on my heels.
"He must have made money and he couldn't have spent much. This hole could have been his bank, and someone found it."
Bill nodded.
"Makes sense."
I shrugged and stood up.
"We seem to be getting nowhere fast. I was hoping to find some letters or at least a photograph of Mitch and Johnny. Let's take a look at the old coot's clothes."
I opened the closet. There was only a spare pair of cut-down trousers and a shabby leather jerkin. I tried the pockets, but found nothing but dust.
"Lived rough, didn't he?" I said as I closed the closet door.
Bill grunted. He was staring at the opposite wall. The sun had slowly moved around to the back of the cabin and was now lighting the gloomy little room. I followed his gaze and saw the distinct marks of where a picture or a framed photograph had hung. It was only because of the sunlight that we saw it. The mark showed the frame had been around twelve inches long and six inches wide.
I stared as I thought, then I
"I've heard she and Johnny were close."
"That's news to me. Johnny wasn't interested in girls. Anyway, Peggy would have been the last girl a guy like Johnny would tie up with. He was a serious kid."
"You knew him at school?"
"Oh, sure. I had no time for him. Okay, he was top of the school, but he was a loner." He began to drive up the narrow lane leading to Jackson's cabin. "He was an odd-bod. Some of the boys wanted to rough him up. I remember there was a gang that decided it was time to give him the treatment. I was one &them. We got him in a corner of the playground. The idea was to smear him with paint." He rubbed his chin. "We had this can of paint and a big brush. He stood quietly, facing us. He made no attempt to run away. He just stood there, looking at us." He shrugged. "I don't know, but it suddenly wasn't fun anymore. There was something about him that stopped us dead. We all suddenly lost interest or maybe we felt we were being stupid kids and he was grown-up. I can't explain it. There was this ,ready, unafraid look in his eyes that put him behind a high wall. We made the usual gang noises, then suddenly we all walked away. From then on, we left him alone."
He swung the car to a standstill outside the cabin.
"Well, here we are," he said and got out of the car.
Together, we walked to the front door and pushed it open. The blowflies had left. There was still the smell of decay. The only sound was the distant croaking of frogs.
"Did you check that old Jackson had a gun licence, Bill?" I asked as I stood looking around.
"Yup. He had a shotgun licence, but not for the Beretta."
"Did you check if Dr. Steed had a licence for the Beretta?"
"Yup. He didn't."
"Did you check if anyone in Searle owned a Beretta?"
"Yup. No one in Searle owns or has owned a Beretta."
I nodded approvingly.
"You're doing your homework."
"I want to work for Colonel Parnell."
"At the rate you are going, that's what you'll do. Now, let's take a good look around."
We spent the next hour and a half carefully searching the entire cabin. We came up with nothing: no letters, no bills, no photographs. As I looked into the empty drawers of the old bureau, it seemed to me someone had been here before us and had made a clean sweep of everything. I couldn't accept that old Jackson, who had lived here for years, hadn't kept some letter, some papers.
"Looks like we're too late, Bill," I said.
"That's what it looks like." He was kneeling by the bed, peering under it. "Something here."
Together we shoved the bed aside and found a good-sized hole in the floor, half covert d with a wooden lid. I moved aside the lid and stared into the empty hole.
I looked at Bill who was staring over my shoulder. "Maybe he kept money here," I said. "Did you check if he had a bank account at Searle?"
"Yup. He didn't."
I sat back on my heels.
"He must have made money and he couldn't have spent much. This hole could have been his bank, and someone found it."
Bill nodded.
"Makes sense."
I shrugged and stood up.
"We seem to be getting nowhere fast. I was hoping to find some letters or at least a photograph of Mitch and Johnny. Let's take a look at the old coot's clothes."
I opened the closet. There was only a spare pair of cut-down trousers and a shabby leather jerkin. I tried the pockets, but found nothing but dust.
"Lived rough, didn't he?" I said as I closed the closet door.
Bill grunted. He was staring at the opposite wall. The sun had slowly moved around to the back of the cabin and was now lighting the gloomy little room. I followed his gaze and saw the distinct marks of where a picture or a framed photograph had hung. It was only because of the sunlight that we saw it. The mark showed the frame had been around twelve inches long and six inches wide.
I stared as I thought, then I
Similar Books
