Hell of a Woman, A by Thompson Jim

Author:Thompson, Jim [Thompson, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Crime, Fiction, Noir, Novel
ISBN: 9780679732518
Publisher: Mulholland Books / Little, Brown and Company
Published: 1954-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

…She was in her nightgown. She was all prettied up like I hadn’t seen her since I don’t know when; and she wasn’t more than a dozen feet away. Standing in the entrance to the little hall that led back to the bedroom.

Smiling at me, but sort of watchful. Kind of smile-frowning.

Joyce.

My wife.

13

I didn't think she’d seen the money. I wasn’t sure, but the lid of the sample case was up, you know, and it wasn’t likely that she would have.

I let it drop casually—the lid, I mean—and locked it. I said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I—” Her eyes flashed, but she held onto the smile—“I still had my key, Dolly.”

“So you had a key,” I said. “So suppose you had a nickel. You got to make a telephone call with it?”

“Please, Dolly. Don’t make it any harder for me than it is.”

“And you never made anything hard for me, did you?” I said. “You didn’t do your goddamned best to wreck this house before you left. You didn’t screw up every goddamned stitch of clothes I had. You didn’t—”

“I know. I’m sorry, Dolly. But I’ve thought things over, and if you’ll just listen to me—”

“Listen, hell,” I said. “Listening to dames like you is what’s put me where I am today.” And then I shrugged and said, “All right, spill it. I’m listening.”

I’d decided I’d better. Because maybe she had seen that dough, and anyway this was no time to get into a brawl. I had to live nice and quiet for the next few weeks. My nerves wouldn’t take anything else, and anything else—anything that might draw attention to me—just wasn’t safe.

She hesitated, looking at me, a little suspicious I guess of the sudden change. I said, “Well, come on. Give. Sit down and I’ll get us a drink.”

“I don’t think I want a drink.” She shook her head. “You’ve been drinking quite a bit, haven’t you, Dolly? There’s all kinds of bottles around and it looks like you slept in the bed with your shoes on. And—”

I was staring at her. Not saying anything, just staring. She cut off with the nagging fast, stretched her smile.

“Just listen to me, will you? I’m not back in the house an hour, and already I’m—you get us a drink, honey. Please.”

I got a bottle out of the cupboard, and a couple of glasses. I came back into the living room; and she was sitting in the same chair Pete had sat in. And, well, it gave me an awfully funny feeling.

I poured the drinks and handed her one. My hands shook, and I patted the lounge at my side. “Why so unsociable? Why not sit over here?”

“We-el. You really want me to?”

“What the hell? Sure.”

“Well—” She sat down on the lounge kind of crossways to me. “Well, here I am.”

“Yeah,” I said. “There you are, all right.”

“I—I guess it would be too much to hope…I guess I shouldn’t ask if you’re glad to see me.”

I let myself frown a little; thoughtful, you know.

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