Read Online Davidian Report by Dorothy B. Hughes - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy B. Hughes
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watch Steve Wintress bleed. It wasn’t going to work. Haig couldn’t hear his heart thudding: Keep your fine manicured paws off Janni, keep your richness for the Feathers—keep away from Janni! Haig could hear only the question he spoke aloud, “What the hell’s she doing here?”
Haig said, “Perhaps Davidian will answer that.”
Davidian shouldn’t have made contact with her; he’d been warned to stay away from anyone out of his past. Steve asked bluntly, “Are you out here to ship them back to Berlin?”
Haig laughed, “They appear to be here legitimately.” He stopped laughing. “Unless they move into the wrong crowd.” The waiters were again tidying up the table. “Besides it’s not my business. I’m in a different racket now, as you would put it. My doctor advised a quieter job.”
Like hell. Somehow Steve managed a smile. “So you’re looking for Davidian to ask him about his income tax.”
Rube told the waiter, “I’ll have chocolate layer cake with my ice cream.”
“In a way.” Haig continued smoothly, “You might say I’m interested in the amount of money he’s made this year.”
Did Haig honestly believe that Davidian was opening up his engraving business in Los Angeles? It was the kind of maneuvering the department had found successful before; it might be tough to apprehend a guy for murder or wife-beating or subversive activities, but you could move in fast on income tax irregularities. You could use the threat to bargain for the report.
Haig was asking, “Do you get out here often?”
“No.” They couldn’t pin on him the coincidence of Davidian and Janni being in these parts.
“I find it a particularly interesting community. It has a heterology of its own but it isn’t as easy to be lost in it as it is in New York, for example, or Berlin or London. For a fairly simple reason. It doesn’t have the ancient warrens of those tired old cities. It is difficult to find a hiding place in a meadow or on the plains. Or in the wide sprawling spaces of Los Angeles. There’s too much daylight and not enough shadow.”
Steve said sardonically, “Then you won’t have much trouble in running down this Davidian.”
“Not much.” Haig was complacent. “This community has another aspect which is both peculiar and helpful. It is neighborly. Unlike New York, or Berlin or London, where there is, you might say, a psychotic revulsion against so much as recognizing a stranger, the good people here open their arms in welcome. Therefore, undue reticence creates conversation; it actually becomes suspect. And conversation ripples like a pebble in a pond, to the milkman and the breadman and the ice cream man, in the supermarket and the laundromat and the P.T.A. meeting. Whenever I see street after street of neat little white houses, or pink or green or yellow houses, I know that even the children playing on the walks will recognize the presence of a deviationist.”
He had it all tagged so neatly. Yet Davidian had hidden out for months now. Successfully. Perhaps Davidian himself had perceived the pattern, perhaps he was hiding in the open. The danger in this solution was obvious; the kids on the block would be singing about the nice new man instead of the nasty new man. You couldn’t win the way Haig had outlined it. And Haig could be right; he wouldn’t often be wrong.
An urgency to get back to Janni rode Steve’s nerves. She’d have to tell him where Davidian was; the F.B.I. had come too far. It wasn’t safe for any of them now.
3
It wasn’t easy to get away. He didn’t doubt this had been one of the purposes of Haig’s fancy dinner. To keep him from his job. He made his exit on a palpable excuse about business, insurance business, leaving the three of them at the table, still tied up with coffee and dessert and the check. He caught a cab discharging a couple outside the hotel, announced, “The Biltmore,” loudly, in case Haig had a man hanging around. There was no cab waiting
Haig said, “Perhaps Davidian will answer that.”
Davidian shouldn’t have made contact with her; he’d been warned to stay away from anyone out of his past. Steve asked bluntly, “Are you out here to ship them back to Berlin?”
Haig laughed, “They appear to be here legitimately.” He stopped laughing. “Unless they move into the wrong crowd.” The waiters were again tidying up the table. “Besides it’s not my business. I’m in a different racket now, as you would put it. My doctor advised a quieter job.”
Like hell. Somehow Steve managed a smile. “So you’re looking for Davidian to ask him about his income tax.”
Rube told the waiter, “I’ll have chocolate layer cake with my ice cream.”
“In a way.” Haig continued smoothly, “You might say I’m interested in the amount of money he’s made this year.”
Did Haig honestly believe that Davidian was opening up his engraving business in Los Angeles? It was the kind of maneuvering the department had found successful before; it might be tough to apprehend a guy for murder or wife-beating or subversive activities, but you could move in fast on income tax irregularities. You could use the threat to bargain for the report.
Haig was asking, “Do you get out here often?”
“No.” They couldn’t pin on him the coincidence of Davidian and Janni being in these parts.
“I find it a particularly interesting community. It has a heterology of its own but it isn’t as easy to be lost in it as it is in New York, for example, or Berlin or London. For a fairly simple reason. It doesn’t have the ancient warrens of those tired old cities. It is difficult to find a hiding place in a meadow or on the plains. Or in the wide sprawling spaces of Los Angeles. There’s too much daylight and not enough shadow.”
Steve said sardonically, “Then you won’t have much trouble in running down this Davidian.”
“Not much.” Haig was complacent. “This community has another aspect which is both peculiar and helpful. It is neighborly. Unlike New York, or Berlin or London, where there is, you might say, a psychotic revulsion against so much as recognizing a stranger, the good people here open their arms in welcome. Therefore, undue reticence creates conversation; it actually becomes suspect. And conversation ripples like a pebble in a pond, to the milkman and the breadman and the ice cream man, in the supermarket and the laundromat and the P.T.A. meeting. Whenever I see street after street of neat little white houses, or pink or green or yellow houses, I know that even the children playing on the walks will recognize the presence of a deviationist.”
He had it all tagged so neatly. Yet Davidian had hidden out for months now. Successfully. Perhaps Davidian himself had perceived the pattern, perhaps he was hiding in the open. The danger in this solution was obvious; the kids on the block would be singing about the nice new man instead of the nasty new man. You couldn’t win the way Haig had outlined it. And Haig could be right; he wouldn’t often be wrong.
An urgency to get back to Janni rode Steve’s nerves. She’d have to tell him where Davidian was; the F.B.I. had come too far. It wasn’t safe for any of them now.
3
It wasn’t easy to get away. He didn’t doubt this had been one of the purposes of Haig’s fancy dinner. To keep him from his job. He made his exit on a palpable excuse about business, insurance business, leaving the three of them at the table, still tied up with coffee and dessert and the check. He caught a cab discharging a couple outside the hotel, announced, “The Biltmore,” loudly, in case Haig had a man hanging around. There was no cab waiting
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