Read Online The Way Some People Die by Ross MacDonald - Free Book Online
Authors: Ross MacDonald
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floor.
“Please.” She was almost whimpering. “You’ve wakened Joe. He’ll kill me if he finds you.”
I opened the door. “Come along with me. Dalling’s waiting in his car.”
“I can’t. I daren’t.” She was breathing quickly, her sharp breasts rising and falling under the blouse.
“Will you be all right?”
“If you go now, please.” She leaned towards me, one hand on my shoulder pressing me backwards.
I reached for the screen door behind me, but it was already open. Galley cried: “Look out!”
The warning came too late. I was a sitting duck for the soft explosion of the sandbag against the back of my head.
CHAPTER
10 :
The argument began in my head
before I was fully conscious. Had Galley tried to save me, or set me up for Tarantine? In any case, I’d been a pushover. I was ashamed to open my eyes. I lay in my own darkness, face down on something hard, and endured the thudding pain at the base of my skull. The odor of some heavy mantrap perfume invaded my nostrils. After a while I began to wonder where it was coming from.
Something furry or feathery tickled my ear. I lifted one hand to brush it away, and the furry or feathery thing let out a small female yelp. I rolled over and sat up. Through ripples of pain distorting my vision like heat waves, I saw a woman standing above me, dimly silhouetted against the starlight.
“You startled me,” she said. “Thank heaven you’ve come to. Who are you, anyway?”
“Skip the questions, eh?” My head felt like an old tired baseball after batting practice. I braced one hand against the wall beside me, and got to my feet. The woman extendeda gloved hand to help me, but I disregarded it. I felt for my gun, which was gone, and my wallet, which wasn’t.
“I only asked you who you were,” she said in a hurt tone. “What happened to you?”
“I was sapped.” I leaned my back against the wall and tried to fix her faintly shimmering outline. After a while it came to rest. She was a large hippy woman in a dark suit. A dead fox crouched on her neck, its feathery tail hanging down.
“Sapped?” she repeated blankly.
“Sandbagged. Hit over the head.” My voice sounded nasty even to me, thin and dry and querulous.
“Goodness gracious, should I call the police?”
“No. Leave them out of it.”
“The hospital, then? Don’t you need some kind of first aid? Was it a robber?”
I felt the swelling at the base of my skull. “Forget it. Just go away and forget it.”
“Whoever you are, you’re not very nice.” She was a spoiled little girl, twenty years later. “I’ve a good mind to go away and leave you to your own devices.”
“I’ll try to bear up under it. Wait a minute, though. How did you get here?” There was no car in the road.
“I was driving past and I saw you lying here and I wasn’t going to come back and then I thought I should. I left my car and walked back. Now I’m sorry I did, so there.”
But she didn’t mean it. Spoiled child or not, there was something I liked about the big dim woman. She had a nice warm prewar middle-western voice.
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“That’s all right. I imagine you don’t feel very good, poor man.” She was starting to mother me.
I turned to the door. The screen door was unhooked but the inner door was locked. I wrenched at the knob and got nowhere with it.
“Nobody answers,” she said behind me. “I tried knocking when you were unconscious. Did you lose your key?”
She seemed to think I lived there, and I let her go on thinking it. “I’ll be all right now,” I said. “I can get in the back door. Good night and thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” But she was unwilling to go.
I left her lingering hippily on the porch and went to the back of the house. The Packard was gone from the driveway. There were no lights behind any of the windows. The back door was locked, but it was equipped with a half-length window. I took off one of my shoes and used it
“Please.” She was almost whimpering. “You’ve wakened Joe. He’ll kill me if he finds you.”
I opened the door. “Come along with me. Dalling’s waiting in his car.”
“I can’t. I daren’t.” She was breathing quickly, her sharp breasts rising and falling under the blouse.
“Will you be all right?”
“If you go now, please.” She leaned towards me, one hand on my shoulder pressing me backwards.
I reached for the screen door behind me, but it was already open. Galley cried: “Look out!”
The warning came too late. I was a sitting duck for the soft explosion of the sandbag against the back of my head.
CHAPTER
10 :
The argument began in my head
before I was fully conscious. Had Galley tried to save me, or set me up for Tarantine? In any case, I’d been a pushover. I was ashamed to open my eyes. I lay in my own darkness, face down on something hard, and endured the thudding pain at the base of my skull. The odor of some heavy mantrap perfume invaded my nostrils. After a while I began to wonder where it was coming from.
Something furry or feathery tickled my ear. I lifted one hand to brush it away, and the furry or feathery thing let out a small female yelp. I rolled over and sat up. Through ripples of pain distorting my vision like heat waves, I saw a woman standing above me, dimly silhouetted against the starlight.
“You startled me,” she said. “Thank heaven you’ve come to. Who are you, anyway?”
“Skip the questions, eh?” My head felt like an old tired baseball after batting practice. I braced one hand against the wall beside me, and got to my feet. The woman extendeda gloved hand to help me, but I disregarded it. I felt for my gun, which was gone, and my wallet, which wasn’t.
“I only asked you who you were,” she said in a hurt tone. “What happened to you?”
“I was sapped.” I leaned my back against the wall and tried to fix her faintly shimmering outline. After a while it came to rest. She was a large hippy woman in a dark suit. A dead fox crouched on her neck, its feathery tail hanging down.
“Sapped?” she repeated blankly.
“Sandbagged. Hit over the head.” My voice sounded nasty even to me, thin and dry and querulous.
“Goodness gracious, should I call the police?”
“No. Leave them out of it.”
“The hospital, then? Don’t you need some kind of first aid? Was it a robber?”
I felt the swelling at the base of my skull. “Forget it. Just go away and forget it.”
“Whoever you are, you’re not very nice.” She was a spoiled little girl, twenty years later. “I’ve a good mind to go away and leave you to your own devices.”
“I’ll try to bear up under it. Wait a minute, though. How did you get here?” There was no car in the road.
“I was driving past and I saw you lying here and I wasn’t going to come back and then I thought I should. I left my car and walked back. Now I’m sorry I did, so there.”
But she didn’t mean it. Spoiled child or not, there was something I liked about the big dim woman. She had a nice warm prewar middle-western voice.
“I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“That’s all right. I imagine you don’t feel very good, poor man.” She was starting to mother me.
I turned to the door. The screen door was unhooked but the inner door was locked. I wrenched at the knob and got nowhere with it.
“Nobody answers,” she said behind me. “I tried knocking when you were unconscious. Did you lose your key?”
She seemed to think I lived there, and I let her go on thinking it. “I’ll be all right now,” I said. “I can get in the back door. Good night and thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” But she was unwilling to go.
I left her lingering hippily on the porch and went to the back of the house. The Packard was gone from the driveway. There were no lights behind any of the windows. The back door was locked, but it was equipped with a half-length window. I took off one of my shoes and used it
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