Read Online Scarlet Imperial by Dorothy B. Hughes - Free Book Online
Authors: Dorothy B. Hughes
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what you need. When I return from work.” It was right that she should be curious. She didn’t glance at him as she asked, “What did you do with Hester?”
He said, “I put him in the park.”
“No!” The exclamation came so quickly from her that his eyebrows winged. The man on the bench. Sitting there, unmoving, in the heavy rain. Hours after he’d—he’d been got rid of. Within her cold stabbed suddenly. Gavin wasn’t telling the truth. He hadn’t taken the man into the park. He hadn’t been out in the rain when he came up the service stairs.
She looked at the crust of toast on her plate. She said, “I don’t see how you could move him—with your shoulder.”
He didn’t respond and she had to lift her eyes to him. He was turning his coffee cup in his hand. He said, “It wasn’t he who shot me.”
This time the fear crawled into her eyes.
He still watched his coffee. He was speaking to himself and his face wasn’t pleasant. “I’d like to know who it was.”
She pushed back her chair. It didn’t scratch; Aunt Hortensia’s chairs were rubber-tipped, her linoleum highly waxed. But it sounded in the silence. She said, “I’m going to dress now. You go back to bed and I’ll bring you some clothes tonight.” She carried dishes to the sink. “You won’t be disturbed, the maid doesn’t come on Fridays. You’d better write down your size.”
She went quickly to her own room, closed the door. She’d have to go to the office now or pretend to go. He couldn’t leave the house without clothes. He couldn’t take the Imperial away. If he did, he’d have only a cake of soap. She didn’t believe he’d investigate the package. He trusted her.
She heard the door open this time and she swung to face it. He stood there, a paper memorandum in his hand. He started to speak but he broke the words. His eyes had become the flat blue disks. He said, “I’ve seen you before.”
She was silent, she remained there unmoving as he came across the room and stood in front of her. The paper drifted to the floor as his hands pushed back her hair roughly, framing her face. She didn’t flinch; her own eyes were steady. He said, “In HongKong.”
She put on a mask of bewilderment. Her lie was quiet. “I’ve never been in HongKong.” He dropped his hands. She stooped and picked up the paper before he could. He’d written his sizes on it.
He shook his head. “Maybe I’d better stay on my back today. I’m getting nerves. I apologize.” He went away.
She let her breath out slowly. She’d better dress; hide herself behind secretarial disguise. She put on a plain black wool, added a small strand of pearls. Only Towner knew they were real. Part of a treasure she had helped him recover. She pulled back her hair, netted it in a snood. She even put on the amber-rimmed glasses. The perfect secretary. Her small black hat, the black silk belted raincoat, rubber boots over her plain pumps, umbrella, purse.
Gavin Keane wouldn’t risk answering the phone today. Not with nerves. If Towner couldn’t reach her here, he’d call the office. He’d expect her to be at the office. She couldn’t let Towner come here anyway unless Gavin was gone. She wouldn’t risk Towner’s safety with someone like Gavin Keane.
Gavin was in the living room, looking down at the park, standing where he couldn’t be seen if someone were looking up. He turned at her entrance. He said, “I don’t like staying here.”
She suggested again, “Will you let me call the doctor?”
He said, “No.” It was definitely no. He came to her, handed her a fold of bills. “Better get brown.”
She put them into her handbag. “There’s food in the icebox.”
He walked with her to the front door, but he barred her from opening it. The cold touched her spine. She held her umbrella tight, as if it could become a weapon.
But he said only, “I want to see Bry. Tell him.”
She asked quickly, “Is it safe?”
He considered it. “Tell him
He said, “I put him in the park.”
“No!” The exclamation came so quickly from her that his eyebrows winged. The man on the bench. Sitting there, unmoving, in the heavy rain. Hours after he’d—he’d been got rid of. Within her cold stabbed suddenly. Gavin wasn’t telling the truth. He hadn’t taken the man into the park. He hadn’t been out in the rain when he came up the service stairs.
She looked at the crust of toast on her plate. She said, “I don’t see how you could move him—with your shoulder.”
He didn’t respond and she had to lift her eyes to him. He was turning his coffee cup in his hand. He said, “It wasn’t he who shot me.”
This time the fear crawled into her eyes.
He still watched his coffee. He was speaking to himself and his face wasn’t pleasant. “I’d like to know who it was.”
She pushed back her chair. It didn’t scratch; Aunt Hortensia’s chairs were rubber-tipped, her linoleum highly waxed. But it sounded in the silence. She said, “I’m going to dress now. You go back to bed and I’ll bring you some clothes tonight.” She carried dishes to the sink. “You won’t be disturbed, the maid doesn’t come on Fridays. You’d better write down your size.”
She went quickly to her own room, closed the door. She’d have to go to the office now or pretend to go. He couldn’t leave the house without clothes. He couldn’t take the Imperial away. If he did, he’d have only a cake of soap. She didn’t believe he’d investigate the package. He trusted her.
She heard the door open this time and she swung to face it. He stood there, a paper memorandum in his hand. He started to speak but he broke the words. His eyes had become the flat blue disks. He said, “I’ve seen you before.”
She was silent, she remained there unmoving as he came across the room and stood in front of her. The paper drifted to the floor as his hands pushed back her hair roughly, framing her face. She didn’t flinch; her own eyes were steady. He said, “In HongKong.”
She put on a mask of bewilderment. Her lie was quiet. “I’ve never been in HongKong.” He dropped his hands. She stooped and picked up the paper before he could. He’d written his sizes on it.
He shook his head. “Maybe I’d better stay on my back today. I’m getting nerves. I apologize.” He went away.
She let her breath out slowly. She’d better dress; hide herself behind secretarial disguise. She put on a plain black wool, added a small strand of pearls. Only Towner knew they were real. Part of a treasure she had helped him recover. She pulled back her hair, netted it in a snood. She even put on the amber-rimmed glasses. The perfect secretary. Her small black hat, the black silk belted raincoat, rubber boots over her plain pumps, umbrella, purse.
Gavin Keane wouldn’t risk answering the phone today. Not with nerves. If Towner couldn’t reach her here, he’d call the office. He’d expect her to be at the office. She couldn’t let Towner come here anyway unless Gavin was gone. She wouldn’t risk Towner’s safety with someone like Gavin Keane.
Gavin was in the living room, looking down at the park, standing where he couldn’t be seen if someone were looking up. He turned at her entrance. He said, “I don’t like staying here.”
She suggested again, “Will you let me call the doctor?”
He said, “No.” It was definitely no. He came to her, handed her a fold of bills. “Better get brown.”
She put them into her handbag. “There’s food in the icebox.”
He walked with her to the front door, but he barred her from opening it. The cold touched her spine. She held her umbrella tight, as if it could become a weapon.
But he said only, “I want to see Bry. Tell him.”
She asked quickly, “Is it safe?”
He considered it. “Tell him
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