The Spook Lights Affair by Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller

Author:Bill Pronzini & Marcia Muller [Pronzini, Bill & Muller, Marcia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781429997225
Publisher: Forge Books
Published: 2013-12-03T00:00:00+00:00

13

QUINCANNON

Bob Cantwell seemed to be in no hurry as he made his way along the sidewalk toward the late Matthew Drennan’s printing and photography building. He was dressed as Quincannon had last seen him, the heavy corduroy coat buttoned tightly around his scrawny frame, one hand thrust deeply into a pocket. In the other hand he carried what appeared to be a small lantern. He walked with his head down and his chin tucked into the coat collar, but even if he had been casting furtive glances to and fro, it wasn’t likely he’d have spied Quincannon in the shoemaker’s doorway; the number of pedestrians and passing conveyances provided plenty of screening.

Cantwell opened the gate to his hideout and entered the property without hesitation, as if he belonged there. He went straight back to the rear. As soon as he vanished from sight, Quincannon hurried across the cobblestones, dodging a lumberman’s wagon on the way. At the gate he paused for a few seconds, to make sure his quarry had had enough time to light his lantern and enter the building, then proceeded to the rear along the opposite wall from the one Cantwell had followed.

The yard was empty, the door closed. He eased the door open as silently as he could, stepped inside, and quickly shut it behind him. The faint sounds of Cantwell moving about in the office area reached his ears. Flickery light gleamed in the darkness ahead, more of it than there had been earlier: Cantwell had left the inner door open. The hanging lamp would have burned dry by this time, but the lantern he carried must have plenty of oil and a strong wick. There was enough illumination so that Quincannon could make his way slowly across the storage room without risking a collision with any of the clutter of photographic equipment.

He paused at the inner door and peeked around the edge of the jamb. Cantwell was in the office, his back to the window; he had set the lantern on the desk and was leaning close to it to study a paper of some sort that he must have brought with him. Quincannon stepped through the doorway, unholstering his Navy as he catfooted past the old printing press. He made no sounds to alert Cantwell to his presence; the lad continued his study without altering position. So stealthy was Quincannon’s progress that he was able to walk right up to the open office door.

“Hello, Bob. Remember me?”

Cantwell whirled so suddenly and with such terror misshaping his features that it might have been an exploding bomb rather than four quiet words that came from behind him. His eyes bugged when he recognized Quincannon and saw the pistol in his hand. He made a choked sound and backed up hastily, all of four steps until his shoulders struck the window glass.

“How … how did you find…”

“It wasn’t difficult. You’re not half as clever as you think you are.”

Cantwell’s gaze remained fixed on the Navy. “What do you want? What are you going to do?”

“One question at a time, lad.

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