Free Nothing More than Murder by Jim Thompson

I?”
    “Nothin’,” he mumbled, turning around to the projectors. “I was just wondering.”
     
    A hundred miles up the road I stopped at a restaurant for a bite to eat, and called Carol from a booth phone. She must have been waiting right by the phone because she answered right away.
    “I’m coming in,” I said. “Will I get to see you?”
    She said, “No. I’m leaving right away.”
    That was right. It was what she was supposed to say.
    “Get your baggage taken care of?”
    “Not all of it,” she said. “I’ll send for the rest later.”
    That was right, too.
    “Did you get in touch with that party you spoke about?”
    “Yes. And she’s going to be very helpful.”
    “Well, have a good trip,” I said. “And be careful.”
    “I will be. You be careful,” she said.
    We said good-bye and hung up.

13
    T he car was running pretty hot by the time I got to the city, and I had good reason to take it to a garage. I told them I wanted the radiator back-flushed, a grease job, and an oil change. They were rushed, since it was Saturday, and they wouldn’t promise to get the work done before nine that night. I groused a little about it, but I left the car.
    Of course, if I’d started back home right away I couldn’t have got there ahead of Carol. But I didn’t want to be on the road when things popped. I wanted to be able to prove where I was.
    I bought two photoelectric cells at the theatrical equipment house, and dropped them into the first trash can I passed. It was just like throwing twelve bucks away, but it couldn’t be helped. I’d left the two I’d lifted from the show in the car, and there was no way I could explain the extras. And, anyway, what was twelve bucks?
    I could prove that I’d had to come into the city, and that I’d actually bought the cells. Twelve dollars was pretty cheap for that.
    I ate dinner at a restaurant on film row, and walked around awhile, restless, not knowing what to do with myself. All the exchanges except Hap Chance’s had been closed since noon, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to kill any time with him. On the other hand, a sharpie like that might be just the kind to use for an alibi.
    I stopped across the street from his place, trying to decide whether to drop in on him, and he looked out and saw me. He got up, dimmed the lights and drew the shades. I was thinking, What the hell? when he opened the door and motioned.
    I crossed the street. “What’s up, Hap?” I said.
    “Pop in, laddie,” he said. “I’ll tell you in a sec.”
    He closed the door and locked it, and we went back to his desk. He brought out the whisky and a couple of glasses, and we both had a drink. He poured a second for himself.
    “Well, Hap?” I said.
    “I’ve got some information for you, old man. I wouldn’t care to have anyone know it came from me.”
    “All right,” I said. “Under the hat.”
    “You recall our conversation of a few days ago?”
    “Yes.”
    “What did you make of it?”
    “Why,” I said, “I hadn’t thought much about it. I supposed, maybe, you had a buyer for a house and you thought you might make a deal for mine.”
    “Nothing else?”
    “No.”
    He frowned slightly, shaking his head. “I suppose not. I didn’t give you a great deal to go on. Still, there at the last, when you forgot to buy paper on ‘Jep’—”
    “I don’t claim a perfect memory. What’s on your mind, Hap?”
    “You’re broke, laddie.”
    “What?” I said.
    “I say you’re stony. I’d have told you the other night, but I wasn’t too sure about my facts. At any rate, I don’t know that there’s anything you could have done about it.”
    “You haven’t told me anything yet,” I said. “What do you mean I’m broke?”
    “Sol Panzer’s moving in on you.”
    I laughed. “Nuts, Hap.”
    “All right, laddie.”
    “The town’s too small for Panzpalace. It isn’t a fourth big enough.”
    “It’s big enough,” said Hap. “It’s big enough if Sol says it