Beggarman, Thief by Irwin Shaw

Author:Irwin Shaw
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub, pdf
Tags: Contemporary Fiction, Literature & Fiction, Thriller & Suspense
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 1978-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 2

He did not talk to his uncle for almost two months after the telephone call from Chicago.

When he got to New York he went directly to Alice Larkin’s office. He must have looked pretty awful after his days on the road, because she gasped as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her when he came into her cubicle. He had had almost nothing to eat in days and had done his sleeping in truck cabs; he needed a shave, his collar was frayed, his pants were stained with grease from helping a driver change a tire on the big semitrailer outside Pittsburgh; and he had forty-five cents in his pocket.

But after the first shock, Miss Larkin seemed happy to see him and insisted on buying him lunch downstairs even before he could tell her what he was there for.

After he had eaten and was feeling like a human being again he had told her just about everything. He tried to make it sound unimportant, and joke about it, because he didn’t want that nice girl to think he was an overgrown crybaby. She was easy to talk to, looking across the table at him intently through her glasses, her small, pink-cheeked face alert, as he explained why he had left Indianapolis and about the warrant for his arrest and the division of the estate, everything.

She didn’t interrupt him as he poured it all out, just sighed or shook her head every once in a while in sympathy and indignation.

“Now,” she said, when he had finished, “what’re you going to do?”

“Well, I told you, the other time I was here,” he said, “I sort of have the feeling that I’d like to look up the people who knew my father and get an idea of what he seemed like to them—you know—different people, different times of his life. I knew him less than three years.” He was speaking earnestly now, not trying to sound ironic or grown up. “I feel as though there’s a great big hole in my head—where my father ought to be—and I want to fill it as much as I can. I guess it sounds kind of foolish to you …”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, “not at all.”

“I told you I had a list of people …” He took his wallet out of his pocket and put the worn, creased sheet of paper with the names written on it onto the table. “The magazine seems to be able to find just about anybody they want to,” he said, “and I thought, if it wasn’t too much trouble for you, maybe in your spare time …”

“Of course,” Miss Larkin said, “we’re not as omniscient as you might …” She stopped when she saw the puzzled look on his face. “I mean as all-knowing as you might think, but we’re pretty good at hunting down people.” She looked at the list. “This is bound to take some time and there’s no guaranteeing I can turn them all up, but …” She looked at him curiously.

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