Free The Nothing Man by Jim Thompson Page B

garbage pail to its container. I filled my glass again and went to work on the living-room.
    I cleaned it up-two-fifteen.
    I cleaned up the bedroom-two thirty-five.
    I made a stab at cleaning the bathroom (that part of the house that I have made into a bathroom)-two fortythree.
    I had put a big pan of water on the kitchen stove and lighted a couple of burners under it. When it had heated, I carried it into the bathroom, climbed upon the ancient cast-iron stool, and, reaching upward and outward, dumped it into a five-gallon can that rested on a shelf near the ceiling.
    I undressed and stepped under the can. I pulled a rope and the water rained down from a nozzle in the bottom of the can.
    I put some clothes back on and mopped up the bathroom.
    I finished at seven minutes after three. And I had never been more wide awake in my life.
    Obviously it was time for stern measures. I took them- two full glasses, one behind the other.
    I went to sleep then. Or, I should say, I lost consciousness. I didn't come out of it until a little after seven when the phone started ringing.
    I sat up and looked at it. I mumbled what the hell and cut it out, for God's sake, and it went right on ringing. I rubbed my eyes and reached for the whisky. The bottle was empty, so I went out into the kitchen and opened another one. I came back into the living-room and sat down on the floor in front of the phone. I slugged down a few drinks, lighted a cigarette, and eased the receiver off the hook.
    I shouted "HELLO" at the top of my lungs.
    I heard a clatter at the other end of the line, then someone breathing heavily. The someone was Dave Randall.
    "Brownie… hello, hello, Brownie!"
    "Don't yell so loud," I said. "It hurts my ears, Colonel."
    "I hated like hell to bother you, Clint, but-can you come down for a while?"
    "Come down? You mean to work?"
    "Don't do it if you don't feel up to it, but I'm shorthanded as hell. I've got three people working out of the police station-our friend Stukey is really bearing down on this clean-up campaign-and what with Tom Judge off sick I-"
    "He's sick," I said. "I hope it's something serious?"
    "It will be," Dave promised, "when I get hold of him. His wife called in to the switchboard this morning before I got down. I've been trying to call him back, but I haven't been able to raise anyone at their place… How about it, Brownie? If you could just lend a hand for a couple of hours, just until some of the people in society and sports show up…"
    I let him wait while I took a drink. Then I said, "Well, I'll tell you, Colonel. I am a true-blue Courier man; I flinch from neither rain nor sleet nor Chamber of Commerce luncheons, but-"
    "Never mind. Sorry to have bothered you," he said. "Take it easy and-Oh, yes, Brownie? Are you still there?"
    "Yours to command, Colonel. Up to a point."
    "I thought you'd want to know. They've got a red-hot clue to the murderer."
    "So soon?" I said. "I think I'd better have a little talk with Mr. Stukey."
    "He isn't pulling anything this time, Clint. It's the real thing. You know how those Golden Eagle cottages sit up on posts? Don't have any real foundation under them?"
    "Y-No. I've never been around the island much."
    "Well, some guy was crawling around under them last night. The cops figure that he may have been hurt when he-when he was struggling with her and crawled under there to pull himself together. Or perhaps he was just too scared or drunk to know what he was doing. Anyway, it looks like he must have been there not too long after the murder."
    "Why does it look like that?"
    "Why? Well, because of the imprint of his body, his hands and knees. They picked up several almost perfect hand-prints."
    "How do they know they were made last night?"
    "Because there wouldn't be any imprints, otherwise. Last night was the first time it's rained in weeks. There's a little seepage under the cottages and-Look, Brownie, I can't talk any longer now. I'll call you back the first chance I