"She was too anxious for the job to ask questions, and I slid over it. I told her I was hiring her for a friend. I told her I'd give her the exact address after we got here. I slid over it that way. She didn't know a thing until we got on the bus!"
"She called from somewhere! Or maybe she wrote! Her landlady-"
"I tell you, she didn't, Joe! She did not! I was with her every minute."
"But Appleton-"
"Don't you see, Joe? It's someone else. It's another woman. It must be."
"Oh," I said. "Oh-"
My knees were about to give way under me. I wobbled over to the lounge and sat down.
"You're sure about everything, Carol? Elizabeth got away all right?"
"Yes."
"And the woman? No one saw you, heard you, when-"
"No," said Carol. "We were all alone. We-she knew what was coming, right at the last, but there wasn't anything she could do. No one would hear her. I was stronger than she was. She didn't even try to fight. She-"
"Carol," I said. "For God's sake. You don't need to draw me a picture."
"I was just trying to tell you, Joe. Everything's all right. There's nothing to be afraid of."
The funny, intent look went out of her eyes. She turned them in toward the bridge of her nose and pursed out her lower lip. And then she blew upward at the little wisp of hair that had fallen over her forehead.
That got me, just like it always had. All at once we were right back where we'd been that Sunday afternoon when she'd come into my room in her made-over clothes, and I'd felt so damned sorry for her I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"Come here, Carol," I said; and she came there, over to the lounge.
I gave her a grin and squeezed her hand, and after a minute she slid close to me.
"I'm sorry," I said. "That Appleton guy got me rattled. You know how you'd feel if you had a piece of news like that thrown at you."
"Yes," she said. "I'd know."
"I meant to tell you I was going into the city but I didn't have a chance. I had to leave in a hurry."
"Did you?"
"Yes, I did."
"Why?"
"Business. I could tell you, but you wouldn't understand."
"Oh."
"All right, 'oh,' then," I said. "It's the truth. God, Carol, I'm out in front in this deal! I can't stop and explain every time I turn around. I've got to do what I think's best."
"I know."
"Well, then?"
She hesitated, then turned and looked squarely at me. Or as squarely as she could with those eyes of hers.
"Will you answer me one question, Joe?"
"Certainly, I will."
"And tell the truth? Wait a minute, Joe! I didn't mean to insult you. But I've just got to know."
"All right, shoot," I said.
"Is there something wrong at the show?"
I shook my head. I couldn't find my voice right then.
"You're not-that's the truth, Joe?"
"Of course, it's the truth. What are you driving at? What could be wrong?"
"I don't know," she said. "But there is something wrong. There's something wrong somewhere, and you're afraid to tell me about it. That's what-wwhat I c-can't stand. Your being afraid of me."
"Aw, hell," I said, trying to put my arm around her. "Why would I be afraid of you?"
"It's no good asking each other questions, Joe." She brushed at her eyes. "What we need is answers. We're in this together, but we're pulling different ways. You don't trust me."
"It don't-doesn't-look like you trusted me a hell of a lot, either."
"I love you, Joe. Sometimes you love a person so much you can't trust them. It's for their own good that you don't."
"Well," I said. "I don't know what you want me to say."
"I-I guess there isn't much to say."
I jumped to my feet and headed for the kitchen. And I didn't stop or look around when she called me. Things had been coming at me too fast; I didn't have anything left to fight with. I had to do something quick or I knew I'd be yelling the truth at her. You're goddam right I'm afraid! You 'd think I pulled you into this to get Elizabeth and me out of a hole! You think I'd sell anyone out! You-
I got the cupboard door open and reached down the whisky bottle. I raised it, turning around, and she was standing in the doorway watching me.
The whisky never reached my mouth. I couldn't get it that high. It trickled out on my shirt front, and then the bottle dropped from my hand to the floor. And I followed it.
Instantly she was at my side, lifting me. And sick and dizzy as I was, the one thought that filled my mind was how much strength she had. I weigh around two hundred, but she hoisted me up and got me over to the table as easily as if I'd been a child.
"Joe, darling-What do you want me to do, Joe?"
"I'm sick." I kept repeating it. "I'm sick, Carol."
"Do you want me to get a doctor?"
"No!" No, I didn't want a doctor. He might give me something to knock me out, and I'd start raving.
"I'm just awfully tired and weak," I said. "Running around too much. Not eating. Got a chill-"
She put a hand to my forehead. "You've got a fever, too."
"I'd better go to bed," I said. "I get in bed and I'll be all right."
"All right, Joe."
She started to lift me again, but I held back. "We can't go on staying here alone, Carol. We'll have to have someone come in."
"Do you want me to call Mr. Chance?"
"Jesus, no! I mean I may be in bed several days. We want someone who can be around all the time. Get Mrs. Reverend Whitcomb. Take the car and go after her. She'll do anything to get a few square meals."
She got up slowly, kind of hanging back. "Couldn't I just call her, Joe?"
"How would she get over here? The Whitcombs don't have a car. Now, go on and go after her before it gets any later."
"But-but I don't drive very well. I don't like to drive after dark."
"You drive good enough. You drove all the way home from Wheat City after dark, didn't you?"
"All right," she said. "I'll go right away."
After she'd gone, I went on sitting at the table for a few minutes, thinking or trying to; something tickling my mind. Something important. But the idea wouldn't come. I was too tired.
I don't know what time it was when she and Mrs. Whitcomb got back. I was already in bed and asleep.
Back in reform school, once, some big-shot lawyer talked to us at chapel, and he made the statement that nature hated a crime. "Nature abhors a crime," was the way he put it.
At the time, it struck me as being just some more of the grapefruit they were always squeezing out to us. It seemed to me that for a guy that had nature against him, he was doing pretty well. But now, twenty-five years later almost, I was beginning to see what he meant.
We'd planned everything perfectly. By all the laws of logic nothing could go wrong. And, yet-well, why say it?
On top of everything else I was afraid I was losing my nut.
I woke up early the next morning and tiptoed into the bathroom. I got a drink of water at the sink, and stood staring out the window. And there was the garage, just as big as day. Yeah, it was there. The old barn with the cupola that had been made over into a garage. I saw it just as I had seen it for ten years. I don't know. Maybe the eye holds images that don't go away, that don't ever really go away. Maybe the average guy is so stuck on himself that everything he sees becomes important, and he won't give it up, not to himself, until he's past seeing and past remembering.
I don't know.
All I know is that I almost let out a yell that they could have heard over in the next county.
I had to put my hand over my mouth to hold it back. I got back into bed, shivering, and finally dozed off again. But it wasn't good sleep. Not sound, I mean. I kept dreaming that Elizabeth was in the room with me. And it was like I was looking back or ahead on something that had happened.