The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume Six Read Free Page A

arm.
    “Oh, I’m sorry! Pardon me.”
    “That’s all right.” She was a straight-haired brunette with rather thin lips and cool eyes. But she was pretty, damned pretty. Her clothes were not like those Alice wore, but she did have a style of her own.
    She ordered a drink, and he ignored her. After a minute, she got up and went to the ladies’ room. The bartender strolled over. “Speaking of babes,” he said, “there’s a cute one. Should be about ready, too. She’s fresh out of boyfriends.”
    “Her? How come?”
    The bartender shrugged. “Runs with some fast company sometimes. Her boyfriend tried to make a quick buck with a gun and got killed. Chafey. Maybe you read about it.”
    “Chafey?” Fordyce looked puzzled, although inside he was jumping. “Don’t recall the name.” He hesitated. “Introduce me?”
    “You don’t need it. Just buy her a drink.” Then the bartender grinned. “But if you go home with her, take your own bottle and pour the drinks yourself. And don’t pass out.”
    “You mean she’d roll me?”
    “I didn’t say that, chum. I didn’t say anything. But you look like a good guy. Just take care of yourself. After all,” he added, “a guy can have a good time without making a sucker of himself.”
    The girl returned then and sat down on her stool. He waited out her drink, and as she was finishing it, he turned. “How about having one with me? I feel I owe it to you after bumping you like that.”
    She smiled quickly. “Oh, that’s all right! Yes, I’ll drink with you.”
    Her name was Gracie Turk. She had been divorced several years ago. They talked about dance bands, movies, swimming. She liked to drink, she admitted, but usually did her drinking at home.
    “I’d like that,” he said. “Why don’t we pick up a bottle and go there?”
    She hesitated, then smiled. “All right, let’s go.” Fordyce glanced back as he went out. The bartender grinned and made a circle of his thumb and forefinger.
    Not tonight, Fordyce told himself. Whatever happens, not tonight. He will remember this. They got the bottle and went to her apartment. It was small, cheaply furnished with pretensions toward elegance. Bored, he still managed to seem interested and mixed the drinks himself. He let her see that he had money on him and, suddenly, recalled that he was expecting a business call at night.
    “From back East, you know,” he said by way of explanation.
    He left, but with a date for the following evening. An hour later, he called back and canceled the date. His call had come, he said, and he would be out of town.
             
    H E MADE HIS PLANS with utmost care. He drove out of town and deliberately wound along dusty roads for several hours, letting his car gather dust. In town, at the same time, he carefully chose a spot at which to dispose of the body.
    At eight, he drove around and parked his car near the entrance to the alley behind the girl’s apartment. There was a light in the window, so he went into the front entrance, hoping desperately that he would meet no one. Luck was with him, and he reached her door safely. It was around a corner in a corridor off the main hall. At the end was a door to the back stairs.
    He tapped lightly and then heard the sound of heels. The door was opened, and Gracie Turk stepped back in surprise.
    “Al!” That was the name he had given her. “I thought you were out of town?”
    “Missed my train, and I just had a wild idea you might not have gone out.”
    “Come in!” She stepped back. “I was just fixing something to eat. Want a sandwich? Or a drink?”
    He closed the door behind him and looked at her shoulders and the back of her head. That coldness was in the pit of his stomach again. His mouth felt dry, and the palms of his hands were wet. He kept wiping them off, as if they were already—He shook himself and accepted the drink she had fixed for him.
    She smiled quickly, but her eyes seemed cold. “Well, drink up! There’s more