Free Build My Gallows High by Geoffrey Homes

was inside in one quick movement with the door closed. A key rattled in the lock. Footsteps crossed the room. A band of light grew under the door. He heard the sound of the telephone dial. Meta spoke:
    ‘Sorry to bother you,’ Meta’s voice said. ‘But I’m worried about Mr. Eels. He’s home, I know. Yet he doesn’t answer his phone.’
    Silence followed. Someone at the other end apparently was speaking.
    ‘I spoke to him not half an hour ago,’ Meta said, ‘I was to call him again. He said he’d wait there.’ Again silence. Then the woman’s low voice.’Please do. Thanks.’
    He heard her moving about the room. A cupboard opened. A glass clinked. She was pouring herself a drink. A good thing he put that bottle and glass away, he thought. The couch sighed as she sat on it. Presently the telephone bell shrilled and he heard her hurry to the desk.
    ‘Yes?’ her voice said. ‘What’s that? But—are you sure he isn’t there?’
    The person on the other end of the wire must have been very sure. ‘You went all through the apartment? Well—thank you. I’m sorry I bothered you. But I was worried. Goodnight.’
    The closet was small and very hot. Red downed his impulse to open the door. The thing to do was to wait. He pressed his face against the wall, listening. He heard her pacing nervously about, heard the clink of the glass. She must be puzzled, worried. She must be wondering what in hell had gone wrong. Perhaps she would light out for Eels’ apartment presently. That would be fine. That would give him another shot at her apartment.
    But she didn’t go out. After a bit she came back to the desk and he heard the click of the telephone dial.
    ‘Mr. Stefanos, please,’ Meta said.
    Red drew a deep breath and felt his nails bite into his palms.
    Meta’s fingers drummed impatiently on the desk top. She said something under her breath. Soon she spoke again into the phone.’Thank you. Tell him to call Meta Carson right away’
    She was putting the receiver in its cradle when Red opened the door.

Nine
    Lightning flared outside, filling the room with momentary brightness. The torn clouds spilled rain into the courtyard. Not until he stood beside her did Meta see him. ‘Come on,’ Red said. ‘I want to talk.’ Meta didn’t speak. Her lips parted and she put her hand over her mouth.
    He led her to the couch and pushed her down. Her handbag was on the coffee table. He opened it and dumped its contents out. A small automatic clattered on the wood. He pocketed it and dropped on the couch beside her.
    ‘We crossed you up, baby’ Red said.
    ‘You sons of bitches!’
    He flicked her mouth with his knuckles and then she was on him, clawing at him, slashing at his eyes with fingernails that were red daggers. His fingers dug into her right breast. She moaned and dropped her hands. Red relaxed his grip but kept one hand on her breast. ‘Nice,’ he said. She tried to pull her body away. ‘Now talk.’
    ‘No.’
    Her breast was small in his cupped hand. Very gradually he squeezed the firm, warm flesh. ‘Oh, God!’ she moaned.
    Red let her go, took a cigarette from the box on the table and lighted it. ‘We’ve plenty of time.’ He grinned at her, trying to look like a man who had all the time in the world, trying to hide the fact that he was listening for the sound of the buzzer that would announce Mr. Stefanos’ arrival. ‘Now tell me everything.’
    ‘You’re not Red Bailey’ Her voice was husky with fear.
    Things were going better than he had hoped. He nodded. ‘Right. I’m a ringer. So is the little guy. Mr. Eels was not as trusting as he seemed. He’s heart-broken though. You’ve brought his world down around his ears. But he’ll get over it. Disillusion is so much easier to take than death.’
    ‘What are you going to do to me?’
    ‘That depends.’
    ‘On what?’
    ‘Whether you cooperate.’
    ‘And if I do?’
    ‘Nothing happens to you. We’re not concerned with you or your part in it.