Recoil

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Authors: Jim Thompson
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shoulders; and then she slid around in front, holding me tight around the waist.
    “I understand, Pat. Oh, I do understand, honey!”
    “I guess,” I said. “You understand too much.”
    “It’s all right, Pat. I don’t blame you. But—Oh, let’s just forget it!”
    “I made you afraid,” I said, “with what I did to that guy. You’re afraid I’ll do the same thing to Doc. What’s Doc to you, Madeline? What is he planning that makes you think I might try to kill him if I found it out?”
    She shook her head, stubbornly. “There’s nothing I can tell you, Pat,” she said. “Nothing. If you love me, you’ll have to believe that.”
    “All right,” I said.
    She gave me a final squeeze. “Betcha everything’s going to be all right,” she declared, brightly. “Betcha it will.”
    “Betcha,” I said.
    I knew she was crying the second the door closed behind me.

13
    H ardesty had a suite of offices on the top floor of the city’s tallest skyscraper. The legend on the series of doors leading to the reception room read:
    Hardesty & Hardesty
    Attorneys at Law
    and the receptionist, a querulous elderly woman with a suspicious stare, presided over a room as old fashioned as the building was new.
    I put my cigarette out, and folded my hands. After some fifteen minutes, Hardesty came out of his office.
    He nodded to me, tossing some papers on the receptionist’s desk.
    “I’ll be tied up the rest of the morning, Mrs. Smithson,” he told her. “Just make a note of any calls I have, will you?”
    “Tied up!” she exclaimed. “You’re supposed to be in court at eleven o’clock.”
    “Clark will handle it; nothing important,” he said. “Come right on in, Pat.”
    He closed the door on her disapproving grunt, an abashed smile on his darkly handsome face. “Friendly little thing, isn’t she?”
    “An old employee?” I said.
    “One of my grandfather’s.” He put a match to his cigarette and held it for mine. “He and my father were partners, in case you’re wondering about the firm name.”
    “That must make it one of the oldest law firms in the state.”
    “I think it is,” he nodded. “Quite an outfit, eh? When my father died, I planned on fancying things up a bit but you can see how far I got. I imagine if the other building we were in hadn’t been condemned I wouldn’t even have got us moved over here. Anyhow, stodginess is an asset with the kind of clientele we have.”
    “Yes,” I said. “I suppose it would be.”
    “Not quite what you expected, huh?” He gave me a shrewd glance. “You didn’t think an old and respectable law firm would be mixed up with a guy like Doc.”
    “Frankly, no,” I said. “Although I’m not being critical of Doc.”
    “Mmm. Of course not. Well, confidentially, Pat; I’m not involved with Doc a bit more than I can help. You know how it is. You want to swing a piece of business with the state, and the first thing you know you find Doc or someone like him in your path. And you either work with him or you don’t put your deal across.”
    I nodded noncommittally. The less I had to say about Doc, I felt, the better.
    “Let’s see, now. How long have you been out of Sandstone?”
    “Almost three weeks.”
    “And you’re pretty badly worried. Oh, don’t be afraid to say so, Pat.”
    “All right,” I said. “But it’s a pretty hard thing to put into words. The trouble is—is Mrs. Luther. She won’t leave me alone.”
    “Oh?”
    “She came back to my room the second night I was there, and she almost got me in very serious trouble with Doc. She’s followed the same line of conduct ever since. She does things that, well, look like hell.”
    “Mmm,” murmured Hardesty. “That’s embarrassing, all right, but I wouldn’t be too disturbed about it. Doc won’t blame you for it.”
    “He shouldn’t,” I said. “But he does. I can’t tell him it isn’t my fault. I can’t brush her off. I can’t let her go on. Whatever I do or don’t

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