Read Online A Touch of Death by Charles Williams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Williams
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they’d found his body.
“Mrs. Butler is believed to have fled in a blue 1953 Cadillac.”
“I don’t see any car,” she said, looking around. “How did you get here?”
“...sought in connection with the murder. Police in neighboring states have been alerted, and a description
of Mrs. Butler and the license number of the car...”
“Pickup truck,” I said. “Its in the shed.”
“...since the discovery of the body late yesterday, but no trace of the missing money has been found. Police are positive, however, that the apprehension of Mrs. Butler will clear up...”
The man had known the body’d been found, and that they were going to arrest her. He didn’t want her arrested. He still didn’t. Maybe this lost blonde wasn’t lost.
“Malenkov,” the radio said.
But she was going to get lost, and damned fast.
“—drink of water,” she was saying. She was smiling at me. She wanted to come into the house. She wanted to look around.
I smiled at her. “Sure, baby. But water? Look, I got bourbon.”
I was leaning in the window a little. I slid her skirt up.
“Thought I saw an ant on your stocking,” I said. I patted a handful of bare, pink-candy thigh. “Come on in, Blondie.”
The “You—” was as cold and deadly as a rifle shot. Then she got back into character. “Well! I must say!”
But the only thing she could do, under the circumstances, was go. She went.
I took a deep breath and watched the car go across the meadow and into the timber, and then I could hear it climbing the hill in second gear. It didn’t stop. I heard it die away in the distance.
He might be out there in the timber somewhere with his gun, or he might be still in town. Maybe he’d just sent her scouting. If that had been his car following us last night, he had finally figured out where we’d turned off, and he knew we had to be back in this country somewhere.
Well, there was a lot of it. They had plenty of places to look.
Unless, I thought coldly...Maybe she had seen through that old varsity fumble and knew I was just trying to get rid of her. Maybe she knew she had already found what she was looking for.
There was one way to find out. That was to stand out here in the open like a goof until he got back with the gun and shot a hole in my head. I went inside.
Madelon Butler had come out of the bedroom and was standing by the table where the bottle was. She turned and watched me.
“Could you hear the radio?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Why?”
“You’d better sit down. There at the end of the table,
where you can’t be seen from outside. And take a drink. You’re going to need it.”
She sat down. “What is it now?”
“They’ve found your husband’s body. And the police are looking for you.”
She poured the drink and smiled at me. “You do have a flair for melodrama, don’t you?”
“You think I’m lying?”
“Certainly. And who was this timely courier, bringing the news? An accomplice?”
I sat down where I could see out the door and across the meadow. “Look. See if you can get this through your supercilious head. You’re in a jam. One hell of a jam. Nobody brought any news. It was on the radio, in that car. The police are looking for you, for murder. And not only that, but the girl in the car was looking for you too.”
I told her about it.
She listened boredly until I had finished; then all she did was reach for her purse and take out a mirror and some make-up stuff. She splashed crimson onto her mouth. In spite of myself, I watched her. She was arrogant and conceited as hell, but when you looked away from her for a moment and then looked back you went through it all over again. You didn’t believe anybody
could be that beautiful.
“I’m ready to go back to town,” she said, “if you are.”
“Don’t you want to hear me waste my breath any more?”
“Frankly, no. I should think we’d about run through your repertoire.”
“You don’t believe any of it at
“Mrs. Butler is believed to have fled in a blue 1953 Cadillac.”
“I don’t see any car,” she said, looking around. “How did you get here?”
“...sought in connection with the murder. Police in neighboring states have been alerted, and a description
of Mrs. Butler and the license number of the car...”
“Pickup truck,” I said. “Its in the shed.”
“...since the discovery of the body late yesterday, but no trace of the missing money has been found. Police are positive, however, that the apprehension of Mrs. Butler will clear up...”
The man had known the body’d been found, and that they were going to arrest her. He didn’t want her arrested. He still didn’t. Maybe this lost blonde wasn’t lost.
“Malenkov,” the radio said.
But she was going to get lost, and damned fast.
“—drink of water,” she was saying. She was smiling at me. She wanted to come into the house. She wanted to look around.
I smiled at her. “Sure, baby. But water? Look, I got bourbon.”
I was leaning in the window a little. I slid her skirt up.
“Thought I saw an ant on your stocking,” I said. I patted a handful of bare, pink-candy thigh. “Come on in, Blondie.”
The “You—” was as cold and deadly as a rifle shot. Then she got back into character. “Well! I must say!”
But the only thing she could do, under the circumstances, was go. She went.
I took a deep breath and watched the car go across the meadow and into the timber, and then I could hear it climbing the hill in second gear. It didn’t stop. I heard it die away in the distance.
He might be out there in the timber somewhere with his gun, or he might be still in town. Maybe he’d just sent her scouting. If that had been his car following us last night, he had finally figured out where we’d turned off, and he knew we had to be back in this country somewhere.
Well, there was a lot of it. They had plenty of places to look.
Unless, I thought coldly...Maybe she had seen through that old varsity fumble and knew I was just trying to get rid of her. Maybe she knew she had already found what she was looking for.
There was one way to find out. That was to stand out here in the open like a goof until he got back with the gun and shot a hole in my head. I went inside.
Madelon Butler had come out of the bedroom and was standing by the table where the bottle was. She turned and watched me.
“Could you hear the radio?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Why?”
“You’d better sit down. There at the end of the table,
where you can’t be seen from outside. And take a drink. You’re going to need it.”
She sat down. “What is it now?”
“They’ve found your husband’s body. And the police are looking for you.”
She poured the drink and smiled at me. “You do have a flair for melodrama, don’t you?”
“You think I’m lying?”
“Certainly. And who was this timely courier, bringing the news? An accomplice?”
I sat down where I could see out the door and across the meadow. “Look. See if you can get this through your supercilious head. You’re in a jam. One hell of a jam. Nobody brought any news. It was on the radio, in that car. The police are looking for you, for murder. And not only that, but the girl in the car was looking for you too.”
I told her about it.
She listened boredly until I had finished; then all she did was reach for her purse and take out a mirror and some make-up stuff. She splashed crimson onto her mouth. In spite of myself, I watched her. She was arrogant and conceited as hell, but when you looked away from her for a moment and then looked back you went through it all over again. You didn’t believe anybody
could be that beautiful.
“I’m ready to go back to town,” she said, “if you are.”
“Don’t you want to hear me waste my breath any more?”
“Frankly, no. I should think we’d about run through your repertoire.”
“You don’t believe any of it at
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