Free Savage Night by Jim Thompson Page A

if The Man was a little leery of me, if he did have an ace in the hole—little old man Kendall would be his boy. It would have to be him or someone like him.
    I kicked it around in my mind, pulling myself first one way then the other…Whatever he was, Kendall was a long way from being stupid. He wouldn’t do the job himself, assuming that it was something that an amateur could handle. He wouldn’t work with me as an accomplice. He’d handle his end without doing a thing that could be pinned on him. And if I didn’t handle mine, if I fell down on the job or screwed it up…
    I didn’t like to think about it. Because if I fell down or screwed it up, I’d never live to fumble another one. Maybe I wouldn’t, anyway, but I’d have a chance. I’d done the vanishing act before, and I’d stayed hidden for more than six years. But with Kendall keeping tabs on me—if he was —with him tipping off The Man the moment I went sour on the deal or it went sour on me…
    Huh-uh. The Man didn’t take excuses. He didn’t let you quit. I wouldn’t run far enough to work up a sweat.
    I bought another ale. So what if it was that way? I’d agreed to do the job, and as long as I did it I’d be all right. Since that was the way things stood, what difference did it make about Kendall?
    It made plenty. It showed that The Man didn’t trust me—and it wasn’t good when The Man didn’t trust you. It was either that or he was leery of the job—and that wasn’t good either. The Man didn’t operate on hunches. If he was leery, he had good reason to be.
    I wondered what he’d say if I asked him point-blank about Kendall. And I didn’t need to wonder long about it; I was through wondering almost before I began.
    He’d laugh it off. He’d put his arm around my shoulder and tell me how much he liked me…and that would be the beginning of a damned fast end. He’d have to get rid of me. He’d be afraid not to. Afraid I might be getting panicky or worrying about a double-cross.
    I finished my ale, and started out of the bar. Just as I reached the door, Fay Winroy came in.
    “Oh, there you are, hon—” she caught herself. “I thought you might be over here. The sher—there’s someone at the house to see you.”
    She drew me outside, lowering her voice. “It’s the sheriff, honey. Maybe you’d better go on over by yourself, and I’ll stay here for a drink.”
    “All right,” I said. “Thanks for hunting me up.”
    “Carl”—she looked at me anxiously—“are you sure that everything’s all right? Is there anything that—?”
    “Not a thing,” I said. “Why?”
    “Nothing. No reason. He said it was all right, but—”
    “Yeah?” I said.
    “He acts so funny about it, Carl. So…so awfully funny—”

7
    H e was waiting for me in the living room. When I came in, he eased himself up out of his chair a few inches, as though he was planning on shaking hands. Then, he let himself down again, and I sat down across from him.
    “I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” I said. “I’ve been down at the bakery lining up a part-time job.”
    “Uh-hah,” he nodded. “Miss Ruth told me she thought you might be there, but you was already gone when I stopped by. Got you a job, eh?”
    “Yes, sir,” I said. “I haven’t started to work yet, but—”
    “Uh-hah. You’re plannin’ on staying here, then? Going to school and all.”
    “Why, yes,” I said. “That’s why I came here.”
    “Uh-hah, sure,” he drawled again. “Well, I hope it works out all right. We got a nice little town here. Nice little college. We’d like to keep it that way.”
    I frowned at him, looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t particularly like it here, sheriff,” I said. “In fact, I wish I’d never seen your town or your college. But now that I’m here I plan on staying. And if you can think of any reason why I shouldn’t, perhaps you’d better tell me.”
    He swallowed heavily. He wasn’t used to being talked to that way.