The Bedside Corpse by Stuart Friedman

Author:Stuart Friedman [Friedman, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440543296
Publisher: Prologue Books
Published: 2012-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER IX

ED HAD KNOWN SHE WOULD CALL AND that he’d be going back. And he did go back, often, in the weeks that followed. Mostly to her place, but occasionally to restaurants where she would sign the check. When he protested she’d shrug it off and look at him so sweetly that he’d feel squelched and would leave a tip bigger than anything he’d ever spent on whole dinners for himself and Edna. He never knew just how to act with her. She said she wanted him to be the boss; then she’d get in a bossy mood and start throwing her weight around. He’d tell her off, scared every time he did it that she’d throw him out. Sometimes she took it sweet as an angel, and would give him one of those melting, good-little-girl gazes that turned him inside out. At other times she’d stomp off and lock herself in the bedroom. Nothing would bring her out. He’d finally leave, half-hoping it was for good. But the next day at 5-A he wouldn’t be able to work. All he could put his mind to was Nora … and would she call? … wouldn’t she call? … now she’s getting out of bed … now she’s dressing … no, showering … then dressing, no, being dressed … maids helping her. What a sweet job that would be, getting that gorgeous, under-glass piece of stuff into her scanties.

Then the call would come, and that doll voice would be in his ear. “Ed, I was bad. I’m sorry … will you give me another chance? …” Would he! He’d give her his arms, his legs, his heart and head and lungs and liver. Damn, it was true, she’d created him. When he was with her he was living … when he was away from her he was dead. The look of her, the smell of her, the touch of her …

He started knocking ‘em dead on the phone at 5-A. Grim, he’d barrel into his spiels, thinking, for you, baby, for you. He had to make it, now. This was it. He knew where he was going. Right up into her league. Knock ‘em dead. Hang on. Don’t let the sucker slip off the line. Every buck counted. Everything focused on Nora. It didn’t happen, a girl like Nora … not once in a century. A guy didn’t get that kind of a break except maybe from Fate. You made good on it. You got up to her where you could say, baby, you want this? you want that? It’s yours. Me to you. Forget that dough your husband left you. Baby, you’re mine.

The only hell of it was if he got grim over the phone it hurt his spiel. A pitch had to roll, easy and strong and confident. Once the sucker felt you were panting, it was NG. His sales didn’t pick up. Far from it, just to be frank with himself. Sometimes he had to draw eating money. Other times he blew in too much on some present for her.

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