Talk of The Town Read Free Page A

hung up, burning.

2
    I turned back to her. Josie had returned to work. She pushed a hand up through the dark hair with that weary gesture she had, and she was still too pale. One of these days she was going to come apart like a dropped plate.
    “They ever do anything about it at all?” I asked.
    “The first time or two. They sent a deputy out to talk to me. But I’m not sure they even believe me.”
    That’s about it, I thought; it was a pretty even bet.
    “He bother any other women, do you know?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Then the horror came back into her eyes for a moment, and she cried, “Why does he do it?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Why do they jump out of the shrubbery in a park without their clothes on? But they’re nearly always harmless.”
    It occurred to me I was almost as silly as that clown Magruder. Harmless? Well, in any physical sense they were.
    She glanced up at me. “Why did you ask me to answer him?”
    I shrugged. “Force of habit. I used to be a cop.”
    “Oh,” she said. “You wanted to keep him talking, is that it?”
    “Sure. That’s your only connection with him, and once he hangs up he might as well be in another universe. The longer he spews, the more chance there is he’ll say something that’ll give you a lead. Or that you’ll hear something else in the background.”
    She looked at me with quickened interest “And did you hear something?”
    That’s right. He was calling from a box. That doesn’t mean much, of course; they nearly always do. But this one was in a beer joint or a restaurant, and I think it could be identified—”
    “How?” she asked wonderingly. “I mean, how did you find out?”
    “Dumb luck,” I said. “You play for the breaks, and sometimes you get one. Most of those booths have fans in ‘em, you know; this one did, and the fan had a bad bearing. It was just noisy enough to hear. And I heard a jukebox start up.”
    I stopped, thinking about it. This guy was off his rocker, but still he was smart enough to hang up when that music started. Well, it didn’t mean anything. A sexual psychopath didn’t necessarily have to be stupid; he was just unbalanced.
    She frowned. “Then they might have caught him? I mean, if they had listened to you?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “With luck, and enough men to cover all the places in town within a few minutes—” Her County police force was none of my business. And they could have been swamped and shorthanded. Police forces usually were.
    “You say you were a policeman?” she asked. “Then you aren’t any more?”
    “No,” I said.
    I put the whisky back in the bag and closed it. The room key was on the desk where she’d dropped it. I put it in my pocket. She stood up. Instead of helping her, I watched to see how she handled it. She was still a little shaky, but apparently all right.
    “Thank you for everything, Mr. Chatham,” she said.
    “How many times have you fainted lately?”
    She smiled ruefully. “It was so ridiculous. I think this was only the second time in my life. But why?”
    “You ought to see a doctor. You need a check-up.”
    “That’s silly. I’m perfectly healthy.”
    “You’re running on your reserve tanks now. And when they’re empty you’re going to crash. You don’t weigh a hundred pounds.”
    “A hundred and ten. You don’t know your own strength.”
    “Okay,” I said. It was none of my business.
    I went out and lifted the other bag from the station wagon. No. 12 was across in the opposite wing. It was in the corner, and there were three doors between it and the end; fifteen rooms altogether. As I put down the cases and fished in my pocket for the key, I turned and looked back across the bleak area baking in the sun. A twenty by forty foot swimming pool right there, I thought, visualizing it: flagstones, deck-chairs, umbrellas, shrubs, grass—It screamed for grass. It was a shame. I went on in.
    The room was nicely furnished