Free The Grifters by Jim Thompson Page A
Authors: Jim Thompson
of her shoes, began flinging her clothes from her; leaving them in a trail behind her as she hurried toward the bathroom. She closed its door. Kneeling, she went down in front of the toilet as though it were an altar, and a great sob shook her body.
Weeping hysterically, laughing and crying, she began to vomit.
Lucky …
Got off easy …
Boy, am I lucky!
10
At a few minutes before noon, Moira Langtry came out of the arched door of the hospital and crossed the street to the parking lot. She'd risen unusually early that day in order to turn herself out with extra care, and the result was all that she could have hoped for. She was a brunette dream, a fragrant sultry-eyed vision of loveliness. The nurses had looked after her enviously as she tripped down the corridor. The doctors and interns had almost drooled, their eyes lingering on the delicate shivering of her breasts and the sensual swing of her rounded little hips.
Women almost always disliked Moira. She was glad that they did, taking it as a compliment and returning their dislike. Men, of course, were invariably drawn to her, a reaction which she expected and cultivated but was emotionally cold to. Very rarely did they appeal to her. Roy Dillon was one of the rare ones who did. In her own way, she had been faithful to him during the three years of their acquaintance.
Roy was fun. Roy stirred her. Man-wise, he was the luxury which she had clutched to herself no more than a half-dozen times in her life. Six men out of the hundreds who had had her body.
If she could put him to practical use, fine. She hoped and believed she could do just that. If not, she still wanted him, and she did not intend to have him taken from her. It wasn't, of course, that she absolutely couldn't do without him; women who got that way over a man were strictly for the movies. But she simply couldn't afford such a loss, its clear threat to her security.
When things reached the point where she couldn't hold a man, then she was finished. She might as well do a high brodie out of the nearest window.
So today she had risen early, knocking herself out to be a knockout. Thinking that by arriving at the hospital at an off-hour, she could see Roy alone for a change and tease his appetite for what he had been missing. It was highly necessary, she felt. Particularly with his mother working against her, and throwing that cute little nurse at him.
And today, after all the trouble she'd gone to, his damned snotty mother was there. It was almost as though Mrs. Dillon had read her mind, intuitively suspecting her visit to the hospital and busting her goddamned pants to be there at the same time.
Smoldering, Moira reached the parking lot. The pimply-faced attendant hastened to open the door of her car, and as she climbed into it, she rewarded him with a look at her legs.
She drove off the lot, breathing heavily, wishing that she could get Lilly Dillon alone in a good dark alley. The more she thought about her recent visit the angrier she became.
That's what you got for trying to be nice to people! You tried to be nice to 'em and they made you look like a fool!
" Please don't tell me that I can't really be Roy's mother, Mrs. Langtry. I'm rather tired of hearing it ."
" Sorry! I didn 't mean it, of course. You 're about fifty, Mrs. Dillon?"
" Just about, dear. Just about your own age ."
" I think I'd better leave!"
" I can give you a lift, if you like. It's only a Chrysler convertible, but it probably beats riding a bus ."
" Thanks! I have my bicycle with me ."
" Lilly. Mrs. Langtry drives a Cadillac ."
" Not really! But don't you think they're rather common, Mrs. Langtry? I know they're a very good car, but it seems like every overdressed hustler you see these days is driving a Cadillac ."
Moira's hands tightened on the wheel of the car.
She told herself that she could cheerfully kill Mrs. Dillon. She could strangle her with her bare hands.
At her apartment house, she turned the Cadillac over
Weeping hysterically, laughing and crying, she began to vomit.
Lucky …
Got off easy …
Boy, am I lucky!
10
At a few minutes before noon, Moira Langtry came out of the arched door of the hospital and crossed the street to the parking lot. She'd risen unusually early that day in order to turn herself out with extra care, and the result was all that she could have hoped for. She was a brunette dream, a fragrant sultry-eyed vision of loveliness. The nurses had looked after her enviously as she tripped down the corridor. The doctors and interns had almost drooled, their eyes lingering on the delicate shivering of her breasts and the sensual swing of her rounded little hips.
Women almost always disliked Moira. She was glad that they did, taking it as a compliment and returning their dislike. Men, of course, were invariably drawn to her, a reaction which she expected and cultivated but was emotionally cold to. Very rarely did they appeal to her. Roy Dillon was one of the rare ones who did. In her own way, she had been faithful to him during the three years of their acquaintance.
Roy was fun. Roy stirred her. Man-wise, he was the luxury which she had clutched to herself no more than a half-dozen times in her life. Six men out of the hundreds who had had her body.
If she could put him to practical use, fine. She hoped and believed she could do just that. If not, she still wanted him, and she did not intend to have him taken from her. It wasn't, of course, that she absolutely couldn't do without him; women who got that way over a man were strictly for the movies. But she simply couldn't afford such a loss, its clear threat to her security.
When things reached the point where she couldn't hold a man, then she was finished. She might as well do a high brodie out of the nearest window.
So today she had risen early, knocking herself out to be a knockout. Thinking that by arriving at the hospital at an off-hour, she could see Roy alone for a change and tease his appetite for what he had been missing. It was highly necessary, she felt. Particularly with his mother working against her, and throwing that cute little nurse at him.
And today, after all the trouble she'd gone to, his damned snotty mother was there. It was almost as though Mrs. Dillon had read her mind, intuitively suspecting her visit to the hospital and busting her goddamned pants to be there at the same time.
Smoldering, Moira reached the parking lot. The pimply-faced attendant hastened to open the door of her car, and as she climbed into it, she rewarded him with a look at her legs.
She drove off the lot, breathing heavily, wishing that she could get Lilly Dillon alone in a good dark alley. The more she thought about her recent visit the angrier she became.
That's what you got for trying to be nice to people! You tried to be nice to 'em and they made you look like a fool!
" Please don't tell me that I can't really be Roy's mother, Mrs. Langtry. I'm rather tired of hearing it ."
" Sorry! I didn 't mean it, of course. You 're about fifty, Mrs. Dillon?"
" Just about, dear. Just about your own age ."
" I think I'd better leave!"
" I can give you a lift, if you like. It's only a Chrysler convertible, but it probably beats riding a bus ."
" Thanks! I have my bicycle with me ."
" Lilly. Mrs. Langtry drives a Cadillac ."
" Not really! But don't you think they're rather common, Mrs. Langtry? I know they're a very good car, but it seems like every overdressed hustler you see these days is driving a Cadillac ."
Moira's hands tightened on the wheel of the car.
She told herself that she could cheerfully kill Mrs. Dillon. She could strangle her with her bare hands.
At her apartment house, she turned the Cadillac over
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