Read Online Dread Journey by Dorothy B. Hughes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothy B. Hughes
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He had watched them as they passed through the club car on their way to the diner. None of them saw him; they were too busy laughing together. In the lead Leslie Augustin and the lovely Gratia Shawn. Following the two, Kitten and a tall, seedy-looking fellow who was obviously drunk.
Gratia had no business being with Augustin. Augustin was an arrogant young whipper-snapper who played the piano or drums and who mocked at a Spender motion-picture contract. Augustin was too well known. The petty gossip spies who crawled through the train would be checking up on the girl now.
Gratia wasn’t to be mentioned until she was introduced with proper fanfare by Vivien Spender. Now he’d have to go to Mike, see what she could do to silence the gossips before they could speak in print. His knuckles where white and hard. He wasn’t going to have his plans for the girl upset. Not if he had to buy off every one of the scavengers of rumor.
Kitten knew he didn’t want Gratia Shawn bandied around the Chief; she must have known. It was deliberate on her part, involving the girl with the adder-tongued Augustin and an unknown drunk. Mike would have to do something about it. He hadn’t suggested that Kitten keep Gratia undercover, he couldn’t very well do that. But he had counted on Kitten's natural meanness. The suggestion that she look out for the girl ordinarily would have been enough to keep Gratia a nonentity for the journey.
Kitten wouldn’t have been smart enough to think this up alone; Augustin must have had a hand in it. He’d warned Kitten before about Augustin’s sly malice; unfortunately the band leader was fashionable and Kitten thought more of the latest fad than of good advice. Kitten evidently had told Augustin how the wind blew from Fisherman’s Wharf. The papers began to trickle from Viv’s hand. She wouldn’t have told Augustin the whole story; she wouldn’t have dared. She’d have to withhold her ammunition until the psychological moment; her crook lawyer would insists on that.
It would be Augustin who would realize that flaunting Gratia openly would twist a knife in Spender. Not that Augustin had anything against Viv Spender; only that he enjoyed experimenting with knives. He’d break Augustin yet. There’d be a way; he’d find the way. The fair-haired boy was increasingly irritating.
That much of the picture was clear. The drunk with Kitten wasn’t. Kitten was usually too proud in her public appearances. Yet she’d been looking up at that fellow as if he were someone important. Where had she found him? And where had she and Gratia been for the past hours?
They’d been laughing. They’d walked by him as if he were a hardware salesman, without seeing him. He opened his hand and the confetti spilled to the carpet. He was ready to rise when he saw Mike winding through the aisle, skirting the long legs of someone on the couch by the entrance.
Mike saw Viv and she stopped in front of his chair. Her face had been sober when she appeared in the car. The brightness that came to it when she saw him wasn’t natural. It was as if she’d pressed a button forcing it to light.
She asked, “Whatever brought you in here, Boss?”
He flashed a good smile. “I came down with claustrophobia. Took a walk at Needles and had to jump on. Have a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m after food.” She started away but he stopped her by rising.
“How about joining me for dinner? Now that I’m here, I might as well try the diner.”
“You won’t like it,” she warned. “It’s full of people.”
“Tonight I like people. I’m observing them. Research.”
They could smile at each other because they’d known each other a long time, long enough that each could respect the other’s cloak of pretense. Mike wasn’t easy; maybe she knew what Kitten was up to, was trying to spare him. She didn’t want him to go into the diner; even now that he was urging her forward, she was hesitating.
He said, “I
He had watched them as they passed through the club car on their way to the diner. None of them saw him; they were too busy laughing together. In the lead Leslie Augustin and the lovely Gratia Shawn. Following the two, Kitten and a tall, seedy-looking fellow who was obviously drunk.
Gratia had no business being with Augustin. Augustin was an arrogant young whipper-snapper who played the piano or drums and who mocked at a Spender motion-picture contract. Augustin was too well known. The petty gossip spies who crawled through the train would be checking up on the girl now.
Gratia wasn’t to be mentioned until she was introduced with proper fanfare by Vivien Spender. Now he’d have to go to Mike, see what she could do to silence the gossips before they could speak in print. His knuckles where white and hard. He wasn’t going to have his plans for the girl upset. Not if he had to buy off every one of the scavengers of rumor.
Kitten knew he didn’t want Gratia Shawn bandied around the Chief; she must have known. It was deliberate on her part, involving the girl with the adder-tongued Augustin and an unknown drunk. Mike would have to do something about it. He hadn’t suggested that Kitten keep Gratia undercover, he couldn’t very well do that. But he had counted on Kitten's natural meanness. The suggestion that she look out for the girl ordinarily would have been enough to keep Gratia a nonentity for the journey.
Kitten wouldn’t have been smart enough to think this up alone; Augustin must have had a hand in it. He’d warned Kitten before about Augustin’s sly malice; unfortunately the band leader was fashionable and Kitten thought more of the latest fad than of good advice. Kitten evidently had told Augustin how the wind blew from Fisherman’s Wharf. The papers began to trickle from Viv’s hand. She wouldn’t have told Augustin the whole story; she wouldn’t have dared. She’d have to withhold her ammunition until the psychological moment; her crook lawyer would insists on that.
It would be Augustin who would realize that flaunting Gratia openly would twist a knife in Spender. Not that Augustin had anything against Viv Spender; only that he enjoyed experimenting with knives. He’d break Augustin yet. There’d be a way; he’d find the way. The fair-haired boy was increasingly irritating.
That much of the picture was clear. The drunk with Kitten wasn’t. Kitten was usually too proud in her public appearances. Yet she’d been looking up at that fellow as if he were someone important. Where had she found him? And where had she and Gratia been for the past hours?
They’d been laughing. They’d walked by him as if he were a hardware salesman, without seeing him. He opened his hand and the confetti spilled to the carpet. He was ready to rise when he saw Mike winding through the aisle, skirting the long legs of someone on the couch by the entrance.
Mike saw Viv and she stopped in front of his chair. Her face had been sober when she appeared in the car. The brightness that came to it when she saw him wasn’t natural. It was as if she’d pressed a button forcing it to light.
She asked, “Whatever brought you in here, Boss?”
He flashed a good smile. “I came down with claustrophobia. Took a walk at Needles and had to jump on. Have a drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m after food.” She started away but he stopped her by rising.
“How about joining me for dinner? Now that I’m here, I might as well try the diner.”
“You won’t like it,” she warned. “It’s full of people.”
“Tonight I like people. I’m observing them. Research.”
They could smile at each other because they’d known each other a long time, long enough that each could respect the other’s cloak of pretense. Mike wasn’t easy; maybe she knew what Kitten was up to, was trying to spare him. She didn’t want him to go into the diner; even now that he was urging her forward, she was hesitating.
He said, “I
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