Black Friday Read Free Page B

the alley. He said, "I can't stand it, Charley. I just can't stand it, that's all."
"Let's hurry it up," Charley said.
Hart moved faster.
"Please, Charley--" Paul was groaning and sobbing. "Give me a break, will you?"
Charley had no reply for that. They were going rather fast down the alley. They heard the whistles again. As they came toward the end of the alley Charley said they ought to turn toward the right so they could get back to Tulpehocken. Paul was begging Charley to get him to a hospital. Hart was wondering if it would be a good idea to let go of Paul's legs and gamble on a sprint. Then they were at the end of the alley and turning into another alley.
"Let's hold it," Charley said. He was breathing heavily, taxed from supporting half of Paul's weight with one arm.
They listened for more whistles. They didn't hear anything.
"At least get me back to the house," Paul said.
"That's what we're trying to do," Charley said. "Do you think you can walk?"
Paul groaned.
"Give it a try," Charley said. "Let go of his legs, mister. Let's see if we can get him to stand."
Paul was groaning and telling them how bad it was as they got his feet on the ground and then lifted him upright. His knees gave way and they tried it again. On the fifth try they had him standing.
Charley said, "You're all right, Paul."
Paul looked at Hart and said, "I'll be talking with you later. You can think about that."
"Should I let it get me?" Hart asked.
Paul didn't answer. Charley gestured with the revolver and said, "You help him. I'll walk in back."
They walked slowly. Paul began to groan again. They went down this second alley, crossed a narrow street and they were in another alley. Then still another and they came out on Morton. They started to walk up Morton and Charley changed his mind and said they better use the alley and the back entrance. They went back into the alley going parallel with Morton Street. As they walked up the alley, Hart was counting the houses. When they came to the seventh house, Charley said that was it. He told Hart to walk up the steps and knock five times on the back door.
Hart went up the steps and saw dim lights coming from the front of the house. He knocked five times. As he waited for a response he wondered if it would be a good idea to leap off the back porch and gamble on the darkness of the alley. He turned and looked at Charley and saw the high polish of the revolver.
The door opened. A fat woman with fluffy platinum blonde hair looked at Hart and was still looking at him when Charley said, "Come on down here, Frieda. I want you to give Paul a hand."
"What's the matter with Paul?" the fat woman wanted to know.
Hart was wondering what the chances were of grabbing the fat woman and getting her in front of him as a shield, then ducking in, closing the door, racing through the house and going out through the front door. He decided it wasn't a good idea. It was too complicated. He decided to hang around for a while. Maybe an easier opening would show itself.
Charley was up the steps now, telling him to enter the house. He heard the footsteps of Frieda and Paul, very careful and slow against the creaking wood. They were in the kitchen. Charley turned on the light. It was a small neat kitchen with an old-fashioned stove and an old-fashioned ice box. Footsteps came from the front of the house and Hart heard voices. He studied two men as they came into the kitchen. They were strongly built tall men and they wore dark worsted suits, well cut and smartly styled. One of them was good-looking.
They looked at Hart.
The good-looking one said, "What do you call this?"
"I call it aggravation," Charley said.
" You call it aggravation," Hart said.
"Look, Charley," the good-looking one said, "we don't need this."
"We won't need it later," Charley said. "Right now we need it. We need it here."
"I could use a smoke," Hart said.
Frieda was helping Paul into another room. The blackhaired man who was not good-looking took a pack of