Read Online The Two Faces of January by Patricia Highsmith - Free Book Online Page B

connected with me yet.” He looked at her as if he’d just made the most logical statement in the world. “MacFarland . . . well . . . We’ll have a new name Thursday, you and I. ” He waited for her to say something, and when she said nothing, he got up and started to take off his overcoat.
    â€œChester, I’m worried,” she said, like a child who wants its daddy to sit down by it again.
    â€œI know you are, dear, but you’ll feel better tomorrow. I promise you. Rydal’s getting tickets for us, I gave him the money, and all we have to do is to be at the terminal at ten o’clock.”
    She was silent, and Chester saw that her eyes were still open, staring into space ahead of her. Chester put on his pajamas—he’d had a bath in tepid water in the tiny tub before dinner—and touched up his face with his battery rotary razor. He had a heavy beard, and it was a double bed tonight. As he knocked the water out of his toothbrush, he said in a cheerful tone, “By the way, that fellow’s coming with us tomorrow. What do you think of that? I think he’ll be rather helpful.”
    â€œTo Crete?” Colette asked, lifting her head for the first time.
    â€œYes. I offered him the trip, if he wanted to go. He wouldn’t take a cent for what he’s done, or so he told me. He may be getting something from the thousand I’m paying his friend Niko. Anyway, he’s coming; and it has the added advantage,” Chester said in a lower voice, walking closer to Colette, but concentrating on drying his hands on a face towel, “that if we’re questioned at all by the police, Rydal can say he was with us all this afternoon and that we never saw that Greek agent, but—” Chester broke off, having realized that the alibi would be unnecessary after Thursday, when they were no longer the MacFarlands and had different passports.
    â€œDidn’t want any money from you. Isn’t that nice of him? See, your suspicions weren’t right at all,” Colette said, smiling. She was sitting up in bed hugging her knees now.
    â€œNo. Except—” Chester was beginning to think he was a fool, inviting a potential blackmailer—he was still a potential one—for no really good reason to stick with them. After Thursday, Chester could conceive of no possible service Rydal Keener could render. And why hadn’t Rydal pointed that out? He was a very intelligent young man, Chester was sure. He looked at his wife’s brightened face. All sign of tears was gone now. Chester moved towards his Scotch bottle on the bureau top. “Like a nightcap with me?”
    â€œNo, thanks. What I’d really like is a big glass of cold milk.”
    â€œWant me to try?” Chester put the bottle down and started for the telephone.
    â€œUm-m, no,” Colette said, shaking her head. She was staring in front of her again, and thinking of something else. “I hope he’s getting something out of that thousand.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I think he deserves it. He also needs it. Did you notice his shoes?”
    â€œYes, I noticed them.” Chester sipped his drink and frowned. “I just realized that we don’t really need him after Thursday. Not unless something happens that we can’t get the passports and we have to say our own were stolen or something like that. He offered to say he’d been with us all afternoon, you know.”
    Colette gave a faint laugh, no more than her breath against her upper lip, and Chester felt she had realized this minutes ago. Chester often felt that Colette’s brain was better than his, better in the sense of being more direct and therefore quicker.
    â€œWell, he speaks Greek, so that’s bound to be a help,” she said. “Besides, he’s a very nice fellow, you can see that.”
    â€œCan you? I hope so. Shall we turn the light out now?”
    â€œYes. He told me