The Supreme Getaway & Other Tales From the Pulps by George Allan England

Author:George Allan England [England, George Allan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-07-16T04:00:00+00:00

IV.

Brodbine drove the dead woman home. He felt secure, exultant. “The old man’s safe enough,” thought he. “He’s sharper than I thought, but he won’t dare snitch. He’s sewed up, tight. He couldn’t prove anything, anyhow, I guess a half-cracked old mutt like him wouldn’t have much weight against Honest Pete, if it came to a showdown. But it won’t come to a showdown!”

Then he thought of Dr. Abercrombie, the coroner. Also of fat old Gilkey, the Chief of Police, who must be notified. Hmmm. . . . Yes, those were certainly obstacles. But what were obstacles made for, except to be overcome?

“I guess I can get away with ’em,” thought Tony the Scratcher. “A little bull goes a long way, in these tank-towns.”

“There ought to be no real difficulty,” decided Brodbine the Banker. “The word of a man in my position carries weight.”

The man who was two men drove back home and into the garage. He was glad of the slashing rain that would very soon blur his tire-tracks where they turned from the street into the driveway. Blur them so that, by morning, nobody would be able to see he had taken the car out, that night. On the gravel driveway, the tracks wouldn’t show, anyway. So far, so good.

As he got within his own purlieus, Tony the Scratcher retreated into the background and Brodbine the Banker assumed dominance. It was mostly Brodbine who carried the dead woman into the house, via the back door. Yet it was the sinuous strength of Tony’s underworld days that hunched the limp body over his shoulder and got it upstairs.

Brodbine laid his dead wife down on the floor, and pulled all the shades in her room and his own. Then he went after the suitcases. He hung his coat and hat on the hall-rack, carried the cases upstairs and unpacked them, working by gas-jets turned low. As he replaced everything, and put the cases back in their respective closets, he hardly glanced at the body. In the long ago, he had seen too many such, for one more to stir his pulses. Beside, what joy was his that Lil was dead!

“Now for the big smash!” said he, at length, and began operations with the murdered woman.

He got her fur coat off, and her hat, and put them where they belonged. The limp neck of the woman, her lax hands, wax-colored face and dully accusing eyes made slight impression on him. He knew now that he hated her; had hated her for a good while. Knew that he had feared her, too, and that this was one of life’s most free and happy hours. He drew down her eyelids, however. That dull vacancy of seeming reproach was unpleasant.

He undressed the body, and examined the wound. This was on the left side, about two inches below the axilla. The woman must have had her arm drawn back, when the shot had been fired.

“Not very much blood,” he noted. “I wish there had been more.

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.