Read Online The Doomsters by Ross MacDonald - Free Book Online

when he smiled. He turned his full smile on Zinnie.
    I said to the deputy: “That wouldn’t be Jerry Hallman.”
    “Naw. It’s some doctor from town.”
    “Grantland?”
    “I guess that’s his name.” He squinted at me sideways. “What kind of detective work do you do? Divorce?”
    “I have.”
    “Which one in the family hired you, anyway?”
    I didn’t want to go into that, so I gave him a wise look and drifted away. Dr. Grantland and Zinnie were climbing the front steps. As she passed him in the doorway, Zinnie looked up into his face. She inclined her body so that her breast touched his arm. He put the same arm around her shoulders, turned her away from him, and propelled her into the house.
    Without going out of my way to make a lot of noise, I mounted the veranda and approached the screen door. A carefully modulated male voice was saying:
    “You’re acting like a wild woman. You don’t have to be so conspicuous.”
    “I want to be. I want everyone to know.”
    “Including Jerry?”
    “Especially him.” Zinnie added illogically: “Anyway, he isn’t here.”
    “He soon will be. I passed him on the way out. You should have seen the look he gave me.”
    “He hates anybody to pass him.”
    “No, there was more to it than that. Are you sure you haven’t told him about us?”
    “I wouldn’t tell him the time of day.”
    “What’s this about wanting everybody to know then?”
    “I didn’t mean anything. Except that I love you.”
    “Be quiet. Don’t even say it. You could throw everything away, just when I’ve got it practically made.”
    “Tell me.”
    “I’ll tell you afterwards. Or perhaps I won’t tell you at all. It’s working out, and that’s all you need to know. Anyway, it will work out, if you can act like a sensible human being.”
    “Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”
    “Then remember who you are, and who I am. I’m thinking about Martha. You should be, too.”
    “Yes. I forget her sometimes, when I’m with you. Thank you for reminding me, Charlie.”
    “Not Charlie. Doctor. Call me doctor.”
    “Yes, Doctor.” She made the word sound erotic. “Kiss me once, Doctor. It’s been a long time.”
    Having won his point, he became bland. “If you insist, Mrs. Hallman.”
    She moaned. I walked to the end of the veranda, feeling a little let down because Zinnie’s vivacity hadn’t been for me. I lit a consolatory cigarette.
    At the side of the house, childish laughter bubbled. I leaned on the railing and looked around the corner. Mildred and her niece were playing a game of catch with a tennisball. At least it was catch for Mildred, when Martha threw the ball anywhere near her. Mildred rolled the ball to the child, who scampered after it like a small utility in-fielder in fairy blue. For the first time since I’d met her, Mildred looked relaxed.
    A gray-haired woman in a flowered dress was watching them from a chaise longue in the shade. She called out:
    “Martha! You mustn’t get overtired. And keep your dress clean.”
    Mildred turned on the older woman: “Let her get dirty if she likes.”
    But the spell of the game was broken. Smiling a perverse little smile, the child picked up the ball and threw it over the picket fence that surrounded the lawn. It bounced out of sight among the orange trees.
    The woman on the chaise longue raised her voice again:
    “Now look what you’ve done, you naughty girl—you’ve gone and lost the ball.”
    “Naughty girl,” the child repeated shrilly, and began to chant: “Martha’s a naughty girl, Martha’s a naughty girl.”
    “You’re not, you’re a nice girl,” Mildred said. “The ball isn’t lost. I’ll find it.”
    She started for the gate in the picket fence. I opened my mouth to warn her not to go into the trees. But something was going on in the driveway behind me. Car wheels crunched in the ground, and slid to a stop. I turned and saw that it was a new lavender Cadillac with gold trim.
    The man who got