Read Online Elusive Mrs. Pollifax by Dorothy Gilman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Dorothy Gilman
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Debby would be staying the night with her.
Mrs. Pollifax set her alarm for a seven o’clock rising, determined to see that her young charge arrived at the airport on time; she wanted nothing to interfere with her new rendezvous in Tarnovo. She was pleased to note that at sight of a proper bathroom Debby made happy feminine sounds and dug out shampoo, soap and creams from her pack. It was possible, thought Mrs. Pollifax, that she would even wear a dress for the flight.
On this pleasant note Mrs. Pollifax fell asleep.
She awoke suddenly, with a rapidly beating heart. But this is growing tiresome, she thought, staring up at a man silhouetted beside her bed. He had half turned away from her and was holding an object up to the dim light from the window. He held it with one hand and with the other hand he stroked it. Eyes wide open now, Mrs. Pollifaxsaw that it was a knife he held. He was touching it, testing it, with a concentration that turned her cold.
He moved with infinite grace. His speed was incredible. Mrs. Pollifax barely had time to roll to the edge of the bed. As she dropped to the floor she heard the ugly ripping sound of the knife slicing the pillow where only a second before her head had lain. Then with a second swift movement he turned toward Debby’s bed.
Mrs. Pollifax screamed.
It was a small scream, but it was effective. In the other bed Debby sat upright and turned on the bedside light in one fluid, competent motion that amazed Mrs. Pollifax. The light showed her assailant half-crouched between the beds, his eyes blinking at the sudden light.
Debby didn’t scream. To Mrs. Pollifax’s astonishment she stood up in bed and with a wild shout threw herself at the man and carried him to the floor with her. It was the most surprising tackle that Mrs. Pollifax had ever seen. The young, she thought, must feel so very un-used.
She stumbled to her feet to help. As Debby and the man rolled out into the middle of the room she saw the knife flash in the man’s hand and abruptly he jumped to his feet. Debby clung to his legs. He viciously kicked away her grasp, brushed past Mrs. Pollifax, opened the door and fled.
Mrs. Pollifax had never seen him before. Since she was unlikely to see him again tonight she turned to Debby, who sat on the floor rocking back and forth in pain, her left hand cradled between her knees and blood streaming down her face from a scalp wound.
“Oh, my dear,” gasped Mrs. Pollifax after one glance at the bone pushing its way through the skin of Debby’s thumb and she hurried to the telephone. There she stopped, remembering that no one would understand her cry for help and that she’d already had a burglar the night before. She turned back. “Debby, we’re going to have to get you downstairs to the lobby,” she said fiercely.“Can you walk? Your scalp wound needs stitches, and your thumb needs a splint.”
“I’ll be okay,” Debby said in a dazed voice.
“Lean on me. And tell them you fell into a mirror, do you understand?”
“But he tried to kill me!” cried Debby.
Mrs. Pollifax nodded. “Yes,” she said, and for just a moment allowed herself to remember what it had felt like to be inches away from his knife. But what troubled her most of all in remembering was that the man had known Debby was in the room with her. There’d been no hesitation at all–and no light shown–before he’d turned from Mrs. Pollifax to the next bed.
He had planned to murder them both.
“I don’t think we can afford the police,” she explained. “Trust me, will you?” Releasing Debby she hurried into the bathroom. The mirror lining the sink was impossible to fall into, but there was a full-length mirror attached to the back of the door. Mrs. Pollifax grabbed Debby’s hairbrush and after several attacks succeeded in shattering the glass. “Let’s go,” she told Debby and they moved slowly out into the hall, a trail of blood taking shape behind them. The self-service elevator bore
Mrs. Pollifax set her alarm for a seven o’clock rising, determined to see that her young charge arrived at the airport on time; she wanted nothing to interfere with her new rendezvous in Tarnovo. She was pleased to note that at sight of a proper bathroom Debby made happy feminine sounds and dug out shampoo, soap and creams from her pack. It was possible, thought Mrs. Pollifax, that she would even wear a dress for the flight.
On this pleasant note Mrs. Pollifax fell asleep.
She awoke suddenly, with a rapidly beating heart. But this is growing tiresome, she thought, staring up at a man silhouetted beside her bed. He had half turned away from her and was holding an object up to the dim light from the window. He held it with one hand and with the other hand he stroked it. Eyes wide open now, Mrs. Pollifaxsaw that it was a knife he held. He was touching it, testing it, with a concentration that turned her cold.
He moved with infinite grace. His speed was incredible. Mrs. Pollifax barely had time to roll to the edge of the bed. As she dropped to the floor she heard the ugly ripping sound of the knife slicing the pillow where only a second before her head had lain. Then with a second swift movement he turned toward Debby’s bed.
Mrs. Pollifax screamed.
It was a small scream, but it was effective. In the other bed Debby sat upright and turned on the bedside light in one fluid, competent motion that amazed Mrs. Pollifax. The light showed her assailant half-crouched between the beds, his eyes blinking at the sudden light.
Debby didn’t scream. To Mrs. Pollifax’s astonishment she stood up in bed and with a wild shout threw herself at the man and carried him to the floor with her. It was the most surprising tackle that Mrs. Pollifax had ever seen. The young, she thought, must feel so very un-used.
She stumbled to her feet to help. As Debby and the man rolled out into the middle of the room she saw the knife flash in the man’s hand and abruptly he jumped to his feet. Debby clung to his legs. He viciously kicked away her grasp, brushed past Mrs. Pollifax, opened the door and fled.
Mrs. Pollifax had never seen him before. Since she was unlikely to see him again tonight she turned to Debby, who sat on the floor rocking back and forth in pain, her left hand cradled between her knees and blood streaming down her face from a scalp wound.
“Oh, my dear,” gasped Mrs. Pollifax after one glance at the bone pushing its way through the skin of Debby’s thumb and she hurried to the telephone. There she stopped, remembering that no one would understand her cry for help and that she’d already had a burglar the night before. She turned back. “Debby, we’re going to have to get you downstairs to the lobby,” she said fiercely.“Can you walk? Your scalp wound needs stitches, and your thumb needs a splint.”
“I’ll be okay,” Debby said in a dazed voice.
“Lean on me. And tell them you fell into a mirror, do you understand?”
“But he tried to kill me!” cried Debby.
Mrs. Pollifax nodded. “Yes,” she said, and for just a moment allowed herself to remember what it had felt like to be inches away from his knife. But what troubled her most of all in remembering was that the man had known Debby was in the room with her. There’d been no hesitation at all–and no light shown–before he’d turned from Mrs. Pollifax to the next bed.
He had planned to murder them both.
“I don’t think we can afford the police,” she explained. “Trust me, will you?” Releasing Debby she hurried into the bathroom. The mirror lining the sink was impossible to fall into, but there was a full-length mirror attached to the back of the door. Mrs. Pollifax grabbed Debby’s hairbrush and after several attacks succeeded in shattering the glass. “Let’s go,” she told Debby and they moved slowly out into the hall, a trail of blood taking shape behind them. The self-service elevator bore
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