Free Dead Stay Dumb by James Hadley Chase

round the store putting some tinned food together. He shoved them roughly into a large paper carrier. “We're makin' a trip,” he said. “I'd hate to steal this stuff from you... see, I'll pay you for it.” He tossed three dollars on to the counter.
     Abe said nothing. He just wanted Dillon to go away. He kept thinking how he was to tell Rosey. She'd never forgive herself.
     Dillon picked up the carrier and walked over to the door. “Maybe, when I get the breaks, I'll remember you, Goldberg... then maybe I won't... you see.”
     He walked out into the night, tossed the carrier into the car and climbed in. He gave the key to Gurney. “State line, fast,” he said.
     Gurney started the engine and engaged the gears. They pulled out of Plattsville as the street clock struck two, and headed for the border.
     

PART TWO
         
      
     Myra swung her legs off the bed and sat up. The sun came through the open window, burning her feet. The cheap clock on the mantleboard indicated 8.10. She sat there, sniffing the crisp air, her firm white body naked. She fished about with her feet, hunting for her shoes. Finally, with a little gasp of annoyance, she went on hands and knees and dug them out from under the bed.
     She knelt there staring at the shoes. “By heck,” she said, “I'm getting a regular bum.” The shoes were just about handing in their checks. Two large cracks gaped like little mouths at her from the top, and the soles were as good as a sieve.
     She sat back on her heels, scratching her thigh, thinking. It wasn't from choice she was naked in bed. She just hadn't anything to wear.
     Three long weary weeks had crawled by since Butch had been knocked off. The cabin, hidden in the hills, was just held together by its paint. Dillon had been glad to move into it, and now he was in he just stuck.
     The last owner had been an Okie, who had taken his family with him on the futile search for work in the Californian invasion. He had left the cabin pretty well as it stood. Even the bedding had been left. That Okie had certainly been in a hurry to get away.
     Taking the car to the nearest small town, Dillon had got in enough stores to last for some time, and the three of them had dug themselves in. The cabin was lonely, off the beaten track, and they didn't see anyone from dawn to dusk.
     Dillon spent most of his time lying in bed, brooding. He got up around midday, had some food, and sat on the step of the cabin in the sun. He got on the other two's nerves. The work was shoved on to Myra. Gurney cut the wood and got the water, but he didn't do much else. He hung around the house, treading on Myra's heels, keeping his hands off her with an effort, and generally eating his head off with boredom.
     Myra was getting sick of it. She wasn't taking any chances in getting laid up, so she kept Gurney out of her room. This made Gurney sore as hell, but Myra's waspish temper stood between them like a wall.
     She got to her feet and put on the shoes, wriggling her toes inside them, feeling the rough boards through the soles. She splashed water into a tin bowl and began to wash. Slapping the water on her body, she rubbed herself briskly. All the time she was doing this her mind was busy. It was time to, shake these bums up a bit, she thought. Dillon would have to be handled carefully. Up to now he had ignored her. That irritated her. He just didn't know she was there. She thought he was a cold-blooded fish. She walked over to the stool where she had dropped her clothes. She turned them over, her nose wrinkling with disgust. Every damn garment was in holes. Even her dress was patched heavily under the arms.
     Pulling the dress over her head, she smoothed the creases with her hands. Then she walked into the living-room.
     Gurney was standing in the open doorway, fixing his belt. He nodded to her sourly. He