A slow flush spread over his face. His lower lip drew back from beneath the protruding teeth.
"See you tonight, Pat," he said abruptly, and the door slammed behind him.
25
I called Rita Kennedy's office.
I heard the sharp intake of her breath as I identified myself.
"I've got some more of the forms ready," I said. "I wonder if you'd like me to bring them in today?"
"I-don't bother," she said. "Just forget about them. And leave your car at home. We'll send someone to pick it up in a day or two."
"Oh," I said. "You mean I'm fired?"
"I'm sorry, Pat. Your check will be drawn up as of the close of business last night. We're unable to keep a man like you on the payroll. That…that isn't any reflection on your work, you understand."
I understood. There'd been inquiries already and Rita had answered them truthfully. "A tall red-haired man? No, we have no one like that."
"When will I receive the check?" I asked.
"It'll be several days, I'm afraid. I wouldn't wait on it."
"I'm broke, Miss Kennedy," I said.
"Broke!" she said. "Oh, good lord!" And then the concern went out of her voice and it was as clipped and curt as it had been at our first meeting. "That's too bad, Pat. I've done all I can. Much more than I should have."
"I know," I said. "I appreciate it."
"Don't bother to thank me for it. Ever. I haven't really done anything. I can't be expected to remember everyone who ever worked for us."
"Of course not," I said. "Good-bye, Miss Kennedy."
"Pat."
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Why did you do it?"
"I didn't. But I'll never be able to convince anyone of the fact."
"Did it have something to do with Doc?"
"Something," I said. "But I don't know what."
There was a short disbelieving laugh, and then the click of the receiver. That ended me with Rita Kennedy. As far as she was concerned, I no longer existed.
It was too late, now, to turn to Myrtle Briscoe. I couldn't go to her now, with a rap for murder hanging over me.
I drove downtown, cruising slowly past the building where Eggleston had had his offices. There wasn't anything to see there, of course. It was just something to do, some way of killing part of the long day ahead of me. Perhaps the last day of freedom I'd have. If I'd had my way I'd have stayed at the house. But Doc had made it very clear that he didn't want me there before tonight, and going back would mean bringing on a showdown. I was going to have to face one very soon, but there was no sense in jumping toward it. If Doc was certain that I was going to be washed up, he'd be the first man to throw a bucket of water. He'd feel that he had to, regardless of what his plans had been for me.
I turned the corner and idled the car up the street. I didn't feel like seeing a show. I didn't want to go to the library. I didn't want a drink either, but I had to do something. Iran the car on a parking lot, waiting in it while the attendant parked another car.
He came hustling up to me, a big smile on his face. And then the smile froze, and I knew that that was the last place in town I should have come to.
"Yessir," he said, trying to keep his voice casual. "How long you going to be, sir?"
"Just long enough to get a tire fixed," I said. "You fix them, don't you?"
"Well-uh-" He hesitated, staring at me.
"Well, how about it?" I said irritably. "I haven't got all day."
"Uh-" Some of the suspicion went out of his face and a flush of anger replaced it. "I can get it fixed for you, mister. You leave your car here, and I can have someone come and fix it."
"Oh, hell," I said. "I've got no time for that routine. Where's a garage near here?"
"Y-you-you work for the state, mister?"
"Work for the state?" I snorted. "Would I be driving a wreck like this if I worked for the state? Now do you know where I can get a tire fixed or not?"
He shook his head. Not in answer to my question but to the one in his mind. I wasn't the same guy; he wasn't going to be a hero.
I said something under my breath about dumbbells, just loud enough for him to hear it.
A couple of cars drove in just then, and he didn't have a chance to say anything more and I didn't have to. He trotted off sullenly, and I drove away. Within the next ten minutes, I drove a good five miles away.
I picked a quiet residential street, brought the car down to a steady fifteen miles an hour, and turned the radio to catch the police calls. I drove and listened until noon, and nothing came over the air. They weren't looking for me. Yet.
Around noon I stopped at a drive-in and had a hamburger and a bottle of beer in the car. The check brought my nine dollars down to less than eight-fifty. It also started me to thinking again about that one hundred and fifty that Doc had appropriated.
The more I thought about it the more certain I became that he'd taken the money to keep me from running away. He'd never intended to open any bank account for me and he didn't now. And then something had happened, or was going to happen, that made it unsafe for me to have that money longer.
It couldn't have anything to do with Eggleston, since he couldn't have foreseen how I'd be involved in that. And the only thing impending was the Fanning Arnholt scheme. So, somehow, he must be intending to use me in that. I was going to be used, and not several weeks from now but tonight.
I grinned to myself, thinking of Madeline and Hardesty. This was going to spoil their plans. The thing was going to explode on them before they were ready for it, and they'd have to do their own dirty work, whatever it was, instead of dragging me in on it.
They weren't going to like that. Not a bit. Hardesty in particular, with the secure and respectable position he held in the city, was going to hate being caught with his neck out. There'd be a blow-up between him and Doc and Madeline. I might get enough to clear myself of Eggleston's murder.
I wondered how Doc was going to wind up the Arnholt scheme tonight, something that even I could see should take two or three weeks. And I remembered those rare out-of-character glimpses I'd had of him, as on my first night out of Sandstone, and I knew exactly how he was going to wind it up. I felt certain that this, if nothing else, would bring on a quarrel with Madeline and Hardesty.
Madeline…
I tried not to think about her. When I thought about her I hated myself because, well, I couldn't hate her. I couldn't, no matter what she'd done or might do, and I knew I never could.
Slowly, the afternoon passed. I drove around until three and had more beer at another drive-in. And then I did more driving, still sticking to the residential streets, and around five o'clock I stopped at a neighborhood bar and restaurant.
I sat down at the end of the bar and had a ham sandwich, potato salad and coffee. It was a small, sidestreet place and I was the only customer. My ankles ached from the day's almost steady driving. I decided to kill some of my remaining time there.