Read Online Find This Woman by Richard S. Prather - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Richard S. Prather
Ads: Link
"Wait there," then swung the big guy around, eased the hammer of the .38 down, and reversed the gun, then smashed the butt against his skull. I was climbing into the Mercury before he hit the ground, and I looked out the rear window as a patrol car behind a screen of people backed away from the building.
I looked at Colleen and her face was frightened. "Baby," I said, "you can either sit here and wait, or get me the hell out of here."
She'd already had the gears in low and she let out the clutch with a snap that threw my head back onto the cushions. Then she skidded around to the right and hit the road leading out to Highway 91.
I said, "That's a police car back there. If you don't stop, you're in trouble."
She didn't say anything. She bent over the wheel, staring straight ahead, and had the gears in high and the accelerator jammed to the floor boards, and I heard that sound which is like a power saw slowing when it cuts through too heavy timbers, as the siren behind us shivered high at its nerve-scraping peak and began whining down the scale.
Chapter Seven
COLLEEN raced to Highway 91, skidded to the right, and flew down the road, past the Flamingo and the Inferno and the Desert Inn, entering the traffic that was heavier now back on the main part of the Strip. We'd picked up a good head start on the sheriff's car, because the deputies had to wait for some of the people to get out of their way or else run over them, and then had paused momentarily by the two men who might have been dying for all they knew. But they'd come after us.
I asked Colleen, "The cops know your car?"
"No."
"From back there at the airport, then? Think they'd remember it?"
"I don't think so. There were other cars there. I doubt that they could have noticed the license number; all that was so fast."
The Thunderbird was up ahead on the right. I said, "Slow down. Pull into the Thunderbird and park on the left. Douse the lights."
She zoomed into the drive and parked as cars on the road began pulling over and stopping in obedience to the siren. All the clubs on the Strip have a lot of parking space, and there were probably two hundred cars or more around us. Even if the deputies had seen us turn in here, which was doubtful, it would be like looking for the proverbial needle. A few seconds after Colleen turned off the lights and killed the engine, the black car raced past on the road toward downtown Las Vegas.
We sat quietly for a while, then Colleen said, "What's it all about, Shell?"
She deserved some kind of explanation, but I kept it short and told her, "Honey, I'm on a case; I'm working. Somebody up here is anxious to kill me. It must have something to do with the case I'm on now, or it doesn't make sense. But that was my car back there at the airport. I left it there this afternoon, and Freddy must have gone out to pick it up for me, though I told him to stay the hell away from it. He just saw a chance to do me a little favor, and. . . That's the kind of guy he was."
She didn't say anything for a moment, then she said, "I thought fromâwhat you saidâthat it must have been Freddy. When you told me to leave I just sat there a while. I didn't know what to think, then I decided to follow you. I thought maybe you were walking back. Then my lights shined on you." She paused a moment. "Shell, that man on the ground. Was he dead?"
"I don't know. He might have been."
"I saw you hit the other man. That was pretty horrible."
I turned and looked at her. "Maybe so, Colleen. But what they or their friends did back there was pretty horrible, too."
"Oh," she said, and was quiet.
No official cars came in after us. Nothing much happened except that we sat quietly for seconds or minutes. I looked back toward the Thunderbird Hotel, on my right. Above the entrance the great neon bird glowed garishly, with its round red eye blinking, and fifteen or twenty people moved around in front of the lobby entrance, some of them going inside and some coming
I looked at Colleen and her face was frightened. "Baby," I said, "you can either sit here and wait, or get me the hell out of here."
She'd already had the gears in low and she let out the clutch with a snap that threw my head back onto the cushions. Then she skidded around to the right and hit the road leading out to Highway 91.
I said, "That's a police car back there. If you don't stop, you're in trouble."
She didn't say anything. She bent over the wheel, staring straight ahead, and had the gears in high and the accelerator jammed to the floor boards, and I heard that sound which is like a power saw slowing when it cuts through too heavy timbers, as the siren behind us shivered high at its nerve-scraping peak and began whining down the scale.
Chapter Seven
COLLEEN raced to Highway 91, skidded to the right, and flew down the road, past the Flamingo and the Inferno and the Desert Inn, entering the traffic that was heavier now back on the main part of the Strip. We'd picked up a good head start on the sheriff's car, because the deputies had to wait for some of the people to get out of their way or else run over them, and then had paused momentarily by the two men who might have been dying for all they knew. But they'd come after us.
I asked Colleen, "The cops know your car?"
"No."
"From back there at the airport, then? Think they'd remember it?"
"I don't think so. There were other cars there. I doubt that they could have noticed the license number; all that was so fast."
The Thunderbird was up ahead on the right. I said, "Slow down. Pull into the Thunderbird and park on the left. Douse the lights."
She zoomed into the drive and parked as cars on the road began pulling over and stopping in obedience to the siren. All the clubs on the Strip have a lot of parking space, and there were probably two hundred cars or more around us. Even if the deputies had seen us turn in here, which was doubtful, it would be like looking for the proverbial needle. A few seconds after Colleen turned off the lights and killed the engine, the black car raced past on the road toward downtown Las Vegas.
We sat quietly for a while, then Colleen said, "What's it all about, Shell?"
She deserved some kind of explanation, but I kept it short and told her, "Honey, I'm on a case; I'm working. Somebody up here is anxious to kill me. It must have something to do with the case I'm on now, or it doesn't make sense. But that was my car back there at the airport. I left it there this afternoon, and Freddy must have gone out to pick it up for me, though I told him to stay the hell away from it. He just saw a chance to do me a little favor, and. . . That's the kind of guy he was."
She didn't say anything for a moment, then she said, "I thought fromâwhat you saidâthat it must have been Freddy. When you told me to leave I just sat there a while. I didn't know what to think, then I decided to follow you. I thought maybe you were walking back. Then my lights shined on you." She paused a moment. "Shell, that man on the ground. Was he dead?"
"I don't know. He might have been."
"I saw you hit the other man. That was pretty horrible."
I turned and looked at her. "Maybe so, Colleen. But what they or their friends did back there was pretty horrible, too."
"Oh," she said, and was quiet.
No official cars came in after us. Nothing much happened except that we sat quietly for seconds or minutes. I looked back toward the Thunderbird Hotel, on my right. Above the entrance the great neon bird glowed garishly, with its round red eye blinking, and fifteen or twenty people moved around in front of the lobby entrance, some of them going inside and some coming
Similar Books
