An Air That Kills Read Free Page A

stroke of luck. By Harry’s standards, fate had. The luck was Thelma.
    â€œShe probably didn’t give him the message,” Turee said. “Perhaps she suddenly decided to go to a movie or something and Galloway’s still sitting there waiting for you to turn up.”
    Harry shook his head. “Thelma wouldn’t do a thing like that.”
    â€œNot on purpose, of course.”
    â€œNot accidentally, either. Thelma’s got a wonderful mem­ory.”
    â€œOh?”
    â€œThat girl’s never forgotten a thing in her life.”
    â€œWell, all right, all right. It just seemed the logical explana­tion, that’s all.”
    It was midnight by this time, and Bill Winslow, who couldn’t hold his liquor but would die trying, had reached the point of saturation. The excess fluid was seeping out of his eyes in the form of tears.
    â€œPoor old Galloway, sitting down there on his can, sitting on his poor old lonely can, while we’re up here lapping up his liquor and having a swell time. It’s not cricket. Fellows, I ask you, is that cricket?”
    Turee scowled at him across the room. “For God’s sake, stop blubbering, will you? I’m trying to think.”
    â€œPoor old Galloway. Not cricket. Here we are having a swell time and there he sits on his poor old . . .”
    â€œHepburn, see if you can haul him off to bed.”
    Hepburn put his hands under Winslow’s armpits and pulled him to his feet. “Come on, Billy-boy. Let’s go beddy-­bye.”
    â€œI don’t want to go to bed. I want to stay down here and have a swell time with you fellows.”
    â€œLook, Billy-boy, we’re not having a swell time.”
    â€œY’aren’t?”
    â€œNo. So let’s get moving. Where’d you leave your suit­case?”
    â€œI don’t know.”
    â€œI put it upstairs with mine, in the room next to Gallo­way’s,” Turee said.
    â€œI don’t want to go to bed. I’m sad.”
    â€œSo I see.”
    Winslow tried to brush the moisture off his cheeks with his forearm. “I keep thinking about poor old Galloway and poor little Princess Margaret.”
    â€œHow did Princess Margaret get into this?”
    â€œOught to marry somebody, have kids, be happy. Every­body should be happy.”
    â€œCertainly.”
    â€œI’m happy.”
    â€œSure you are.”
    â€œI’m having a swell time with you fellows, aren’t I?”
    â€œNot for long, Billy-boy. Come on.”
    With the tears still spouting from his eyes, Winslow shuf­fled across the room and began to ascend the staircase on all fours like a trained dog going up a ladder. Halfway up he collapsed and Hepburn had to drag him the rest of the way.
    Turee got up and put another log on the fire and kicked it impatiently with his foot. “Well, what do we do now?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Harry said gloomily. “This isn’t like Ron, to keep people waiting.”
    â€œHe might have had an accident.”
    â€œHe’s a good driver. He’s got a real bug on safety, seat belts and everything.”
    â€œEven good drivers occasionally have accidents. The point is, since there’s no phone here, if something happened we’d have no way of finding out unless Esther sent a telegram to Wiarton and it was delivered out here.”
    â€œEsther would be too upset to think of doing that.”
    â€œAll right, here’s another theory: Galloway never left home. He suffered an attack of indigestion, perhaps, and decided not to come.”
    â€œNow that’s more like,” Harry said with enthusiasm. “Last time I saw him he was complaining about his stomach. I gave him a couple of those new ulcer capsules my firm’s putting out.”
    â€œGalloway hasn’t got an ulcer.”
    â€œHe may have. The capsules worked like a charm.”
    Turee turned away with an expression of