Free The Two Faces of January by Patricia Highsmith Page A

had told him he would purchase the tickets in the name of Colbert. Chester checked their luggage, and was not required to give a name, though he was asked which flight he was on. Chester said the Iraklion flight at 11:15 (the time had been set back a half hour, he had seen on a black board). Then Chester went out into the street with Colette. He wanted to take a little walk, to get out of the airline office, which was such a likely spot for the police to look for Chester MacFarland, he thought, though the airport itself was an even more likely spot.
    The time dragged. Chester checked an impulse to go by the American Express, as he had been doing twice daily, to see if he had any mail. He couldn’t claim Chester MacFarland’s letters now. And he couldn’t sign Chester MacFarland to any of the five or six thousand dollars’ worth of traveler’s checks in his suitcase. He wondered if Rydal Keener could come up with an idea as to how to get rid of them without taking a total loss?
    â€œDarling, look at those shoes!” Colette said, dragging him by the arm towards a shop window.
    Chester stared into a window full of reddish-brown shoes, all very pointed and arranged in concentric semicircles, so that they all seemed to be pointing at him. “Yes. Sure there’s time,” he said automatically to her question, and then he saw her dark-clad figure in the mink stole take a jolt, bend sideways, as the door resisted her.
    She came back opening her arms, her pocket-book swinging out. “Closed, the fools! They could’ve made a sale. Nine-thirty!” She was lively as a little bird.
    Chester was secretly glad the store had been closed. He steered her back towards the danger spot, the Olympia Airlines office.
    â€œThere he is,” said Colette, pointing with a hand sheathed in a light-grey suede glove. Then she waved.
    Rydal saw her, and gave them a wave back. He was walking towards them on the pavement, carrying a brown suitcase. He held up a finger, apparently wanting them to wait where they were, then disappeared into the Olympia office. People were getting out of taxis in front of the place now, and porters were bustling about with luggage.
    â€œHe’s going to get our tickets,” Chester said.
    â€œOh. Well, we’ve got to go in some time.” She tugged at his arm, then stopped, waiting for him to move. “Shouldn’t you give him some money for the tickets?”
    â€œGave him some last night for ours. In cash,” Chester said. “He’s buying his own.” Chester walked towards the airline office doors, his feet almost dragging.
    They found Rydal among a crowd of twenty or thirty people who were standing about beside their luggage in the office. Rydal greeted them with a lift of his head, and Chester and Colette made their way towards him, stepping around suitcases and laden porters.
    â€œGood morning,” Rydal said, and with a nod at Colette, “Mrs. Colbert.”
    â€œGood morning,” Colette said.
    Rydal glanced around at the people, then said to Chester, “They found him this morning around seven.”
    â€œYes?” asked Chester, his scalp tingling as if he had not been prepared at all. “How’d you hear?”
    â€œThere’s a radio in my hotel lobby. I waited for the nine o’clock news, and there it was.” He looked at Colette.
    His coolness was almost like contempt, Chester felt. No skin off his nose what had happened, of course, no skin at all. Yes, definitely, Rydal Keener had a cocky, top-dog manner. But now was no time to worry about it. After tomorrow noon, if the fellow asked five thousand dollars to disappear, fine, pay it, and say good-bye.
    â€œHere’s your ticket,” Rydal said, handing it to him.
    â€œWhere’s hers?” asked Chester.
    Rydal glanced around the babbling crowd, and said in a low voice, “I thought it was better to buy your wife’s and mine under