The Moth by Cain James M

Author:Cain, James M. [Cain, James M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Crime, Literary, Classics
ISBN: 9781453291627
Google: Nr9xDpiq-pQC
Amazon: B004BYOMGY
Goodreads: 17239531
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 1948-01-01T08:00:00+00:00

18

FOR THREE DAYS I sat around the Midnight Mission in Los Angeles, washing dishes for my grub and sleeping in their main dormitory. But it kept worrying me, spending nights with other guys. I was afraid I might talk in my sleep. I picked up a buck or two on some parking lot and moved to a little hotel over on Sixth Street, fifty cents a night and no questions asked. For the first time since I’d been on the road I signed in under my own name, because I wanted it in black and white I was in California, not Nevada. I kept talking to the clerk like he must remember me, and saying how glad I was to be back in Los Angeles from up in Fresno. It turned out he was new there. But then something happened that helped quite a lot. A guy came downstairs, carrying a vacuum cleaner, and telling how well he’d cleaned the upper halls, and the clerk said fine, he’d mark him paid right now. So he did. It was just an old-fashioned register, where guys signed their names, or F.D. Roosevelt, or whatever, with their address, if they had one. On the right-hand side was the room number, and beside this was marked “pd.” Soon as I handed over my fifty cents I was marked “pd.” But if this guy was working for his bed, and all they did about it was mark him “pd.” too, that meant there was no cross-check on cash, and that meant, if a name was there, a few days back, this clerk wouldn’t know if the face behind the name had been there or not. I watched my chance, then went to the register and began turning pages. I found July 10, the day we held up the station. The page was full up, solid. I looked at July 9. It was full. But on July 8 there was a blank line. I picked up the pen and wrote “Jack Dillon, City.” Then beside that I wrote a room number, and then with my thumb I smudged it. Then beside it I wrote “pd. pd. pd. pd.” All that time I watched the clerk. He went right on with what he was doing. I went up to my room, lay down, and felt better. It wasn’t much of an alibi, but it was some kind of alibi.

I felt better, but not much better. By day, I tramped around to every garage, shop, and filling station I could find, trying to land a job, and now and then picking up a buck fixing flats. If things had been bad before, they were as bad now as they could get. By night I worked on my clothes with spot remover, then pressed them under the mattress, trying to get myself in some kind of shape in case a chance would come. But it all spelled Skid Row, and sooner or later I knew Hosey would come along, or I’d bump into him in some soup kitchen, and what that would lead to I didn’t know.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.