Free Judas Cat by Dorothy Salisbury Davis Page A

Addison Industries, and from the chimneys blue-green flames whipped into a murky sky.
    “They’re roaring now,” Alex said. “Look at them belch fire.”
    “I guess that’s good,” Joan said.
    Alex looked at her a second. “Go on and say it, honey. ‘It has to be’.”
    He drove around the county building a couple of times. There was a deputy sitting outside the jail. Alex parked the car near the alley and Joan slid over to the driver’s seat when he got out. He winked at her and laid his hand on hers on the steering wheel for a second, for reassurance, Joan thought. “Say a prayer, Joanie.” Yes, she would say a prayer. There were many things to pray for in this venture.
    Alex checked the trunk of the car first to be sure that it was unlocked. He walked past the building. The deputy was reading a magazine in the pale glow of the naked bulb over the door. The bugs and moths were thick as a cloud around the light and every once in a while the deputy slapped at one as it dropped down on him. Across the street the hollow sound of bowling balls striking pins came through the open windows, and from up the street a ways came the sound of traffic but at the moment he could not see a soul except the deputy. Alex turned up the alley and tried to hold himself to a casual pace. The windows were open on the ground floor of the building—barred windows. He was at the back of the jail. Only one window was lighted. Through it, he saw a man sitting on a bunk, reading. Apparently he was the only occupant. The other windows were darkened.
    There was a garbage can outside the jail door. From the angle of its lid, he figured that the night’s pick-up had not been made yet. The morgue was next to the jail, and beside the wide door there was a large metal box. He could feel his heart pounding faster and his hands were moist. There was only a latch on the box and Alex threw it and lifted the lid. The smell of formaldehyde made him catch his breath. In college he had had to give up biology on account of it.
    “Looking for something, buddy?” a soft voice drawled from the last cell window.
    He could see the face indistinctly against the bars. He felt that he had jumped six feet off the ground.
    “Sorry if I made you nervous,” the voice continued. “You must be pretty hard up, filching from the trash cans in this dump. What they give you on plates ain’t good enough for it.”
    “I’m looking for something,” Alex said. “For God’s sake, shut up.”
    “No kidding. Don’t let me interrupt.”
    Inside the box he found two well-wrapped bundles. There was no time to think, to weigh them. He took them both out and let the lid down slowly.
    “It’d be embarrassing,” the prisoner drawled, “if I started a ruckus on the bars in here, wouldn’t it?”
    “Yes, it would.”
    “Tell you what. I’m collecting from my friends to get me a decent lawyer.”
    Alex reached into his pocket and drew out the only bill he had. “Here. Go back to sleep and forget you saw me.”
    “It’s for a good cause. Take it off your income tax.”
    Alex picked up the bundles. He had to pass the jail windows again.
    “I wonder if I’ll remember your face. I don’t forget a kind one easy. My friends say I got a long memory. Hope you got what you were after, chum …”
    Amen to that, Alex thought. The fifty yards through the alley were the longest he had ever walked. He threw the bundles into the car trunk. Joan had the motor running when he climbed in beside her.
    “What a filthy smell,” she said, shifting the car into gear, “but you had luck.”
    “I hope it’s luck. Now we really need it. Do I smell very bad, Joan?”
    “Just medium bad.”
    It was Barnard himself who came to the door when Alex rang. He was in his shirt sleeves and came out on the steps, closing the door behind him. If he had been asked to guess his age, Alex would have put the veterinary at about fifty, although it was hard to tell by looking at him. He was large