Read Online Suspension of Mercy by Patricia Highsmith - Free Book Online Page B

that sounds lovely. But I don’t know where I’m going to be. I’d better meet you at the station.”
    “But I’d drive down.”
    So Alicia proposed their meeting at the Eclair, the first place that came to her mind except the lobbies of a few large hotels where she would not be stopping.
    Her heart took a somersault as Edward walked through the pink-curtained door. He looked nervous before he saw her, then he started toward her with a smile.
    They spent a glorious day, lunching at the Angus Steak House, strolling along the downs, driving to the Plough Inn in Pyecombe for a cozy tea, then lolling in chairs in the late sun on the beach. Edward was sweet and good-natured, such a relief after Sydney. He didn’t mention Sydney, and neither did Alicia. She had been afraid Edward would, that he’d naturally suspect a bad quarrel. It gave Edward full marks in Alicia’s book that he didn’t try to pump a thing out of her.
    “Have you seen Inez and Carpie lately?” Alicia asked.
    “No. Not since the party.” Edward turned his eyes to her for an instant, smiling. He was driving then. “I don’t know them very well.”
    Alicia felt relieved at that. She didn’t want their mutual friends in London to know Edward had come down to Brighton to see her. No doubt Edward realized that, too. She sensed that he could be most discreet, if he had to be. As far as Alicia knew, she and Edward had no friends in common except Inez and Carpie, and they seemed to be only acquaintances. They were always having people they scarcely knew to their parties. Edward was certainly more U and better mannered than most of their guests. Edward’s fast driving was the only thing about him that made her uneasy, though she could tell he was a good driver. A fear of speed was one of her neuroses. Speed and airplanes. She simply couldn’t fly without getting into a state of terror, so she hadn’t attempted to take a plane since her last nightmarish flight to Paris when she was twenty.
    They had a dinner even more delicious than their lunch. It was wonderful to eat anything, anywhere, and not worry about the bill. Edward started off a little before 10 P.M. for London, and Alicia was genuinely sorry to see him go.

8
    A t ten o’clock the following Monday evening, Sydney was typing the last sentence of the second Whip synopsis, in which The Whip murdered, for a woman friend with whom he had no emotional involvement, the woman’s husband. The husband was an almost unmitigated cad—almost, because his sadism, selfishness, philandering, and alcoholism had to be relieved by some minor good qualities, or he could hardly be believed. At any rate, no one could possibly like the husband, and Sydney could foresee The Whip’s strangle-murder of him being cheered by man, woman, and child of the television audience. Of course, The Whip got off scot free and the wife, too, as The Whip had made her spend the weekend in a town sixty miles away. Sydney wrote:
       
    Monday 10:10 P.M.
    Alex, old pal,
    Here is another synopsis, packed with Whiplike action that should make Robin Hood look like a sitting duck. Don’t be downcast about that one rejection. We’ll lash them with Whip stories till they open their glassy eyes and see how good they are. Next year we should be writing these from our own island in Greece.
    Yours forever,
Syd
    Then, singing his own words to “After the Ball Is Over,” he went down to the kitchen with his empty cup and saucer, and treated himself to a scotch and soda. He was glad Alicia was out of the house for a while, because he felt her absence would give The Whip a chance.
    In fact, Alicia was dead. He had pushed her down the stairs the morning she had intended to leave. Her suitcase had fallen down the stairs with her, burst open, and there had been a mess on the living-room floor of scattered clothing, contents of handbag, Alicia sprawled with one shoe off, but no blood. Only a broken neck. Then Sydney had wrapped her in the red and