Free Night Walker by Donald Hamilton Page A

me.” Mrs. Parr looked at Elizabeth critically as she brought a tray into the room. “That’s a lovely robe, you’re wearing, dear; it’s a pity you seem to have got some lipstick on the sleeve. And I do love your hair like that; I think this modern style of whacking it all off short is most unattractive. In my day, her hair was considered to be a woman’s crowning glory....”

Chapter Seven
    The long Packard had to back up once to get around the circular drive, which had been laid out for vehicles of shorter wheelbase — no doubt originally for horse-drawn carriages. Then the big car made its deliberate way around the corner of the house and out of sight. Young turned from the window.
    “Does she always drive that hearse herself?” “
    “She had a chauffeur before the war, Larry told me. When he got drafted, she got somebody to teach her to drive, and liked it so much she never hired another.” Elizabeth swung about to face him. “Honey, what did she want? What did she say?”
    He was tired now, and he got back into bed and leaned back against the pillows before answering. “Why,” he said, “somehow she’d got herself talked into giving me a message from Bonita Decker, and she wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea, although I doubt it’s going to keep her awake nights. The kid apparently hasn’t given up hope. She wants to see me. She’s going to sail past this place twice a day waiting for me to give her the usual signal, afterwhich I’m supposed to sneak out and meet her at the usual place.”
    “A signal?” Elizabeth demanded. “What signal? What place?”
    Young said, “How the hell would I know? I don’t know the place, either; or the time. I suppose they had a standard time for meeting, since the old lady didn’t bother to mention it. You had no idea they had some system like that rigged up?”
    She shook her head. “I didn’t pay much attention to his comings and goings last summer, but I declare, I didn’t dream they—”
    “Well, it looks as if they had really been taking this affair seriously. Signals and secret meeting places! I wish I knew... Well, it doesn’t matter. I obviously can’t afford to meet her; that would be running this bluff into the ground. I may be able to fool an old lady who never saw Larry Wilson more than once a year; I’m sure as hell not going to get anywhere with a bright little girl who was in love with him, bandages or no bandages. And with the color hair she’s got, if she doesn’t get her signal pretty soon she’s going to get impatient and send somebody else or come barging in again herself... I think we’d better have Henshaw over here and hold a council of war, Elizabeth. This act is dying on us; we’d better wind it up before it folds completely. It’s time for Larry Wilson to go to Nassau for his convalescence, or visitthe Mayo Clinic for an operation, or something. We’ve established that the bastard’s still alive; now let’s get him the hell out of here.”
    She had turned to study her reflection in the mirror, in a preoccupied way. “All right, honey,” she said. “But can’t it wait until this afternoon? Bob said he’d be over.”
    “Oh, I suppose so.” He could not explain his sudden feeling of urgency; instinct was warning him that the game was up, the gag was wearing thin, the ship was sinking beneath him... He tried to put the last metaphor out of his mind, but it was like that; it was the well-remembered sensation of knowing that there were only so many seconds — in this case minutes, or maybe days — before the whole thing would go up with a bang and a hiss and a roar, taking him to hell with it if he had not vacated the premises by the time it happened. His mind was working swiftly and well. “Elizabeth,” he said, knowing what he had to do now. It was time to demonstrate that he was keeping all possibilities clearly in mind.
    She looked at him over her shoulder, clearly struck by something in his voice.