The Deadly Desire (1959) by Robert Colby

The Deadly Desire (1959) by Robert Colby

Author:Robert Colby [Colby, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781440537332
Publisher: F+W Media
Published: 2012-12-14T22:00:00+00:00


four

As soon as Laura had gone, Royce made himself a drink and began to pace the living room. He knew from Laura’s reaction to the note, from Erickson’s face when he went out the door, the subtle frictions were over. The real trouble, the violent purpose of some twisted plan was fused. He had to stop Star Osborne. But how? How! Warnings, threats, insults were pebbles against that fortress of determination.

He stood still in the center of the room. He looked around him. His eyes came to rest on the little hall that led to the bedroom. He set down the drink and went to the front door, opened it. He listened. He closed the door and hurried into the bedroom. The light was dim but it would have to do. He bent over the dresser and began searching among the expensive scented garments.

In a bottom drawer he came across a purse, opened it. There was a finely tooled, handsome wallet. It was crammed with currency — large bills. There was a driver’s license bearing her name and other identification, all with a Cleveland address. He studied the wallet and recognized what was supposed to be a secret compartment. In it was a newspaper clipping, Cleveland dateline. He took it to the light and began to read with astonishment.

He was folding the clipping and putting it in his pocket when he heard the sounds. There was a rhythmic pounding and splintering which seemed to come from under the building. He tried to place it, understand its meaning. Distant and muffled, it throbbed beneath him. Quickly he returned the wallet to the purse and the purse to the drawer, closing it. He looked and everything was in order.

He went swiftly to the living room and turned down the radio. There was a single thud which now reached him clearly, then a clatter of metal. All sound ceased. He found his drink and sipped at it a while, thinking about the clipping. Then he heard raised voices and went out the door to the beach.

Standing just behind a corner of the building, Royce got the picture in a glance — the wreck of the boat, the strange expectant look of Star Osborne, Erickson, shoulders bunched, advancing on Humphrey with a quiet and deadly stealth while Humphrey stood tall and waiting, arms loose at his sides.

“Don’t try it, Bruce,” said Humphrey. “You’d only get hurt and we’d both be sorry. This tramp isn’t worth it.”

Erickson crept upon him without reply. At that moment, Royce was thinking that there was nothing more violent than the weld of friendship broken and turned to hatred. The force of hate had subjective heat which gathered power from the very personal elements which had produced its opposite.

Erickson seemed confused when he came within striking distance of Humphrey. Because Humphrey made all his crouching caution seem ridiculous. He merely stood unguarded and waiting, making his unprotected stance a testimony to the foolishness of such a battle, the rebuke of maturity.



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