Read Online Crazybone by Bill Pronzini - Free Book Online

ahead, hands clasped in her lap, spine rigid.
    “Tell them to hurry,” she said. “I really need to get home before Frank does.”
    That was part of the reason, I thought as I left her, but not all of it. The sooner she got home, the sooner she could have another drink.
     
    Joan and Patty were gone when I returned to the pro shop. The lone occupant now, separating the day’s receipts into piles of cash and chits, was a muscular, sun-browned guy dressed in tan chamois slacks and an Emerald Hills polo shirt. He was about forty, with one of those handsome chiseled profiles that were assurances of box-office success among male film stars a generation ago. A thick mat of curly hair the color of pale ale topped him off to masculine perfection. Women like Joan and Patty would want to take lessons from him, all right, off the golf course as well as on it. He was the type of physical speciman who could have a different bed partner every night of the year if he wanted it that way. The question was whether or not he was that type.
    He had a polite smile for me as I came up to the counter. The neutral variety, without any of the disdain of the guy on the security desk. Point in his favor.
    “Help you, sir?”
    “You can if you’re Trevor Smith.”
    “Guilty. Don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.” Friendly, cheerful, no signs of either arrogance or conceit. Another point in his favor.
    “I’ve never been here before,” I said. When he’d had a look at the card I handed him, I added. “I represent Intercoastal Insurance—”
    That was as far as I got. His smile vanished, his face set hard and tight, and he said with a kind of simmering anger, “So you’re the one. Who told you to come sucking around here?”
    “Could be the same person who told you about me.”
    “No way. Whoever it was, I don’t care what they said. Sheila Hunter and I are friends, that’s all.”
    “Then maybe you have some idea why she’s so dead set against capitalizing on her husband’s insurance policy.”
    “If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s her business.”
    “And her daughter’s.”
    “Not yours or the insurance company’s, that’s the point. Why don’t you leave her alone? Her husband’s been dead less than two weeks, for Christ’s sake.”
    “I’m sorry about her loss,” I said. “But it doesn’t explain why she’s so afraid.”
    “Afraid? What’re you talking about?”
    “I think you know what I’m talking about, Mr. Smith. If you’ve seen her lately you couldn’t help but know.”
    He knew, all right, and it was bothering him; I could see it in his eyes. More between Sheila Hunter and him than a casual friendship, a casual affair?
    “She doesn’t want her past investigated,” I said. “Why? What’s she afraid I’ll find out?”
    “That’s bull,” Smith said. “You can’t make me believe she’s hiding anything about her past.”
    “I won’t try. But I believe she is. She’s been living a lie the past ten years, she and her husband both.”
    “What does that mean, a lie?”
    “She ever say anything to you about her life before they came to Greenwood? Where they lived, what they did?”
    No answer. But his silence was eloquent.
    “Does the word crazybone mean anything to you?”
    “Crazy— Now what the hell?”
    “It means something to her, something bad. Ask her about it. Ask her about her past.”
    “Why should I? Listen—”
    “I might be able to help her. I already know some of the truth and if I keep digging I’ll find out the rest. It’s going to come out one way or another.”
    He leaned forward across the counter so that his face was close to mine. I let him do it without giving ground. “Blackmail?” he said. “Is that your damn game?”
    “No, and don’t use that word to me again. I don’t like it.”
    “I don’t like you or what you’re doing to Sheila.”
    “Your prerogative. But all I’m trying to do, all I’m going to do, is my job. And all I want out of