Talk of The Town Read Free

against it, and wondered how long she had been running along the ragged edge of a breakdown.
    Josie pushed through the curtains and looked questioningly at me.
    “Have you got any whisky?” I asked.
    “Whisky? No, sir, we ain’t got none—” She had taken another step nearer the desk, and now she could see Mrs. Langston on the floor. “Oh, good Lawd in Heaven—”
    “Shut up,” I said. “Bring me a glass. And a damp cloth.”
    I hurried out and brought in the two-suiter bag from the station wagon. There was a bottle in it. Josie came waddling back through the curtains. I poured some whisky into the glass, and knelt beside Mrs. Langston to bathe her face with the wet wash-cloth.
    “You reckon she goin’ to be all right?” Josie asked anxiously.
    “Of course,” I said. “She’s just fainted.” I felt her pulse. It was steady enough.
    “Ain’t you goin” to give her the whisky?”
    “Not till she can swallow it,” I said impatiently. “You want to strangle her? Where’s her husband?”
    “Husband?”
    “Mr. Langston,” I snapped. “Go and get him. Where is he?”
    She shook her head. “There ain’t no Mr. Langston. He’s dead.”
    “Oh,” I said.
    “You reckon we ought to call the doctor?” Josie asked.
    “I don’t think so,” I said. “Wait a minute.”
    Mrs. Langston stirred, and her eyes opened. I raised her with an arm round her shoulders, and held the whisky to her lips. She took a drink of it, and coughed, but kept it down. I handed the glass to Josie. “Get some water.”
    In a moment she was able to sit up. I helped her into one of the armchairs and gave her another drink, mixed with water. Some of the color had come back to her face.
    “Thank you,” she said shakily.
    I waved it off impatiently. “Do you know who he is?”
    “No,” she said.
    “You don’t have any idea at all?” She shook her head helplessly. “But you reported it to the police.”
    She nodded. “Several times.”
    There was no time to lose. I went over to the phone and dialed Operator. “Give me the Sheriffs office.” A man’s voice answered after the second ring, and I said, “I’d like to speak to the Sheriff—”
    “He’s not here. This is Magruder; what is it?”
    “I’m calling from the Magnolia Lodge,” I said. “It’s about the psycho that’s been calling Mrs. Langston. I think you’ve had a complaint on it—”
    “On the what?”
    “A psycho,” I repeated. “A nut. He’s been bothering Mrs. Langston, calling her on the phone—”
    “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said. “What about him?”
    “I think I can give you a lead, and if you work fast you may be able to nail him. He just hung up about two minutes ago—”
    “Hold if, friend. Not so fast. Who are you?”
    I took a deep breath. “My name’s Chatham. I’m staying at the motel, and I happened to be in the office here when the creep called this time. I listened to him—“
    “Why?”
    That might not be the stupidest question it would be possible for a police officer to ask, I thought, but it was close. I choked down a sarcastic reply. “Just to see if I could get a lead on where he was calling from—”
    “And he told you? That was nice of him.”
    I sighed. “No. I’m trying to tell you. I think I lucked into something that could help you—”
    “Yeah. Yeah. Sure. You got his prints over the phone.”
    “Then you’re not interested?”
    “Listen, friend,” he said coldly, “you think we got nothing to do but pussyfoot around looking for a drunk on a telephone jag? Tell Mrs. Langston if she don’t want to listen to this goof all she’s got to do is hang up.”
    “She can’t take much more of it,” I said.
    “She don’t have to answer, does she?”
    “A business phone?” I asked coldly.
    “I can’t help what kind of phone she got. But nobody’s ever been hurt over one of ‘em, believe me.”
    “I never thought of that,” I said. “I’ll tell her, and everything will be all right.” I