Read Online The Big Bite by Charles Williams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Charles Williams
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showroom and go into the office. She had nice legs.
Well, there'd be others working in the place. I turned the glasses oh it every few minutes, in the meantime keeping a sharp lookout over the nearer end of the square. Most of the stores were open now. More people were on the walks, and it was becoming more difficult to look them all over as they moved along.
My sweeping gaze stopped abruptly, and I came to sharp attention. What I had seen was a Chevrolet convertible coming along the street on the south side of the square. There was a man in it, a man who had wide shoulders and was bareheaded. His hair was dark, or so it seemed in the brief instant he was in view. I snatched at the glasses, but in the time I was putting them up to my eyes he swung into an alley and disappeared. I watched the mouth of the alley, very alert now. No one came out. He could have been the one, I thought. The convertible was significant. I waited while minutes dragged by, but there was no sign of him.
Maybe there was parking back there for employees of the stores along that side of the square. I studied the area. The alley was in the middle of the block, with the J. C. Penney store on one side of it and a shoe repair shop on the other. Adjoining the Penney store on the east, toward me, was a barbershop and then a small jewelry store. On the west side of the alley, beyond the shoe place, was a sporting goods store and next to that a dry-cleaners. I went up the line, glancing at the doorways. They were all open now except the dry-cleaning place and the sporting goods store. I couldn’t see anybody inside, however, except some girls in Penney’s. I swung back, watching the sidewalk. Then I stopped suddenly. The door of the sporting goods store was open now. Somebody must have come in from the rear. I grabbed the glasses and focused on it.
There was no one visible, but I could see for several feet back inside the doorway with every detail hard and clear. There was a showcase on the right and I could even make out the rows of bass plugs on a glass shelf inside it. The glasses shook a little. I steadied them on the window sill and looked again. Behind the showcase were some shelves of stock, among which I could make out boxes that probably contained reels and some flatter ones which looked like the type flylines came in. Nobody came in sight.
I muttered impatiently and looked away. I couldn’t waste all day on a wild guess; I had the rest of the square to cover. I gave it a good going-over and saw no likely-looking prospects. In a moment I was back staring at the front of the sporting goods store again. Something on the glass showcase caught my eye. It was rounded and black, and partly cut off by the door frame. I looked at it again and grunted softly to myself. It was the end of a telephone handset.
Well, I could eliminate this bird and quit worrying about him. Taking the glasses down, I looked at the sign above the door. Tallant’s, it said. I stood up and reached for the telephone book on the little stand in the corner. Looking up the number, I lifted the telephone down and got into position again with the glasses propped across the window sill. The phone cord was just long enough to reach.
“Would you get me 2279?” I said, when the man at the desk answered.
“Just a minute, please.”
I heard him dialing, and then the phone ringing at the other end. I waited, keeping the glasses zeroed in on the area above the showcase. He came into view and lifted the handset. He was a tall man with tremendous shoulders, and he had short-cropped dark hair. I exhaled softly.
“Hello. Tallant’s Sporting Goods,” he said.
It was an odd sensation, watching his lips move at the same time I was listening to his voice on the receiver.
“Hope you weren’t busy,” I said. “I just wondered if you had any reports on how the bass are hitting out at Swanson Lake.”
“Been pretty good the last few days, I hear,” he replied. “But mostly on live
Well, there'd be others working in the place. I turned the glasses oh it every few minutes, in the meantime keeping a sharp lookout over the nearer end of the square. Most of the stores were open now. More people were on the walks, and it was becoming more difficult to look them all over as they moved along.
My sweeping gaze stopped abruptly, and I came to sharp attention. What I had seen was a Chevrolet convertible coming along the street on the south side of the square. There was a man in it, a man who had wide shoulders and was bareheaded. His hair was dark, or so it seemed in the brief instant he was in view. I snatched at the glasses, but in the time I was putting them up to my eyes he swung into an alley and disappeared. I watched the mouth of the alley, very alert now. No one came out. He could have been the one, I thought. The convertible was significant. I waited while minutes dragged by, but there was no sign of him.
Maybe there was parking back there for employees of the stores along that side of the square. I studied the area. The alley was in the middle of the block, with the J. C. Penney store on one side of it and a shoe repair shop on the other. Adjoining the Penney store on the east, toward me, was a barbershop and then a small jewelry store. On the west side of the alley, beyond the shoe place, was a sporting goods store and next to that a dry-cleaners. I went up the line, glancing at the doorways. They were all open now except the dry-cleaning place and the sporting goods store. I couldn’t see anybody inside, however, except some girls in Penney’s. I swung back, watching the sidewalk. Then I stopped suddenly. The door of the sporting goods store was open now. Somebody must have come in from the rear. I grabbed the glasses and focused on it.
There was no one visible, but I could see for several feet back inside the doorway with every detail hard and clear. There was a showcase on the right and I could even make out the rows of bass plugs on a glass shelf inside it. The glasses shook a little. I steadied them on the window sill and looked again. Behind the showcase were some shelves of stock, among which I could make out boxes that probably contained reels and some flatter ones which looked like the type flylines came in. Nobody came in sight.
I muttered impatiently and looked away. I couldn’t waste all day on a wild guess; I had the rest of the square to cover. I gave it a good going-over and saw no likely-looking prospects. In a moment I was back staring at the front of the sporting goods store again. Something on the glass showcase caught my eye. It was rounded and black, and partly cut off by the door frame. I looked at it again and grunted softly to myself. It was the end of a telephone handset.
Well, I could eliminate this bird and quit worrying about him. Taking the glasses down, I looked at the sign above the door. Tallant’s, it said. I stood up and reached for the telephone book on the little stand in the corner. Looking up the number, I lifted the telephone down and got into position again with the glasses propped across the window sill. The phone cord was just long enough to reach.
“Would you get me 2279?” I said, when the man at the desk answered.
“Just a minute, please.”
I heard him dialing, and then the phone ringing at the other end. I waited, keeping the glasses zeroed in on the area above the showcase. He came into view and lifted the handset. He was a tall man with tremendous shoulders, and he had short-cropped dark hair. I exhaled softly.
“Hello. Tallant’s Sporting Goods,” he said.
It was an odd sensation, watching his lips move at the same time I was listening to his voice on the receiver.
“Hope you weren’t busy,” I said. “I just wondered if you had any reports on how the bass are hitting out at Swanson Lake.”
“Been pretty good the last few days, I hear,” he replied. “But mostly on live
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