High Sierra by W. R. Burnett

Author:W. R. Burnett [W. R. Burnett]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

26

It was hot in Los Angeles, and the air was full of dampness. The change in altitude and atmosphere had made Roy irritable; he sat at the wheel with his coat off, sweating.

“You want to stop at the same place?” he asked Marie.

“I don’t want to stop at all. I’ll stay with you till you get through.”

“I’m not supposed to see Mac till tonight. I got to go some place else. Business.”

“Yeah. Monkey business. Well, you’re not going to park me in no auto-court with Pard. I’ll go to a movie and you can look after Pard yourself.”

“All right,” said Roy. “Tell me where you want out and where I’ll see you later.”

“I want out right here and you’re not going to see m later.”

“O.K.” Roy reached into his pocket and took out a roll of bill. “Here. If you want to beat it, I’ll stake you you to a ticket to San Francisco.”

Marie began to cry as Roy drew up to the curb.

“I got money enough for the movie out of that last you gave me,” she said.

“Stop crying,” said Roy. “And stop trying to high-pressure me. It’s no use.” He sat waiting for her to get out. Marie glanced at him. His face was stony. She knew. Couldn’t wait to get rid of her. Just dying to hurry off Grandpa’s girl, the big dope! She bent over and kissed pard on the head.

“Pard loves me,” she said, as the little dog licked her cheek. Roy was so crazy about Pard, she thought this might soften him up a little, and it did.

He reached over and patted her on the shoulder.

“See you tonight?”

“Yeah.”

“Same court?”

“Yeah. I’ll take the bus out after the movie.”

“‘By, Marie. I’d take you along if I could.”

“‘By, Roy. Take good care of Pard.”

He drove off. He felt sorry for Marie, but it wasn’t his fault. He’d never tried to kid her, not for one minute. She was a swell kid and all that and she was nuts about him, but as far as he was concerned she could go to San Francisco this minute and he’d never turn a hair.

The farther south he drove, the damper it got. The sun was blotted out by the mist and a pale, wan, silvery light was over everything. A heavy sea-fog was rolling up the street where Velma lived, blotting out landmarks and making everything unfamiliar. He idled along, straining his eyes to find the house. He came to a dead end he’d never noticed before and, making a sharp U-turn, he almost collided with a yellow taxi which loomed up suddenly out the fog. Roy glanced in his rear-view mirror. The taxi turned at the dead end and followed him.

“Who’d tail me in a taxi?” said Roy. “What am I thinking about? The fog’s got me jittery.” He remembered Kranmer and wondered if the copper might be trying to find out something. Just a check-up, maybe. A crooked copper was a crooked copper. Turn you up in a minute after taking your dough.

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