Free 1965 - The Way the Cookie Crumbles by James Hadley Chase Page A

everything I could to find Norena, but I had no luck. The search went on for over five years, then I gave up. I put her out of my mind.’ He frowned down at his hands. ‘It would have been fun watching her grow up. Now, it seems I have a grown-up daughter with her own ideas, her own way of life about which I know nothing.’ He looked up at Terrell who was now standing. ‘You don’t know anything about her, do you, Captain?’
    ‘Only what I’ve told you,’ Terrell said and took from his wallet the photograph of Ira Marsh that Edris had planted in Muriel’s bedroom. He put the photograph on the desk in front of Devon. ‘That’s your daughter. My congratulations. I’d say she’s worth the long wait.’
    Devon stared at the photograph.
    ‘Yes. how like her mother she is! What’s Edris’ address?’
    Terrell told him and gave him Edris’ telephone number.
    ‘Maybe you’d better telephone Edris first, Mr. Devon and let him know what you plan to do.’
    Devon stared at the photograph again.
    ‘What I plan to do? It’s obvious, isn’t it? I want Norena to come home.’
     
    * * *
     
    Algir recognized her at once from the photograph Edris had shown him. She was sitting on a wooden bench at the Seacombe bus terminal, her hands between her knees. She was motionless, staring at a patch of oil left by a departing bus.
    Although he was badly behind schedule, he stopped the car some yards from her and sitting back, he examined her. He knew from the photograph that she was attractive, but he hadn’t expected her to be so sensually exciting. As he continued to study her he saw by the hard set of her mouth and by the way she slouched on the bench that this was a teenager far in advance of her years who would look on a man his age as old and square whose good looks, charm and experience were as nothing compared with the brash vital energy of some young slob her own age.
    Algir was afraid of youth. He was jealous of their vitality and dismayed by their arrogance. His shield that covered his shallowness was his looks and his charm and these, he knew, cut no ice with the young. With an impatient shrug, he got out of the car and walked over to where the girl was sitting.
    ‘Hello, Ira,’ he said, pausing before her. ‘Have you been waiting long?’
    She stood up, her eyes travelling slowly from his shoes to his face, taking in every detail of his dress with a jeering contempt that angered him.
    ‘Too long. You’re late,’ she said, looking away from him.
    Any kind of criticism invariably sent Algir into a rage. His face flushing, he resisted the urge to slap her. Instead, he grunted, turned and walked to where the Buick was parked. He slid under the steering wheel. When she was seated beside him, he started the engine and drove away from the bus terminal, heading for Edris’ apartment block.
    She lit a cigarette, let smoke drift down her nostrils as she said, ‘I thought we were on a tight schedule. What happened to you then? Overslept?’
    ‘Relax with the mouth,’ Algir snapped. ‘When you’re with me, I do the talking, you listen. Right?’
    She cocked her head on one side and studied him.
    ‘I wouldn’t have thought you had much worth saying. Still, if it’ll oil your ego, I’ll give it a try.’
    The muscles in his face tightened.
    ‘Shut up! I don’t take that kind of talk from a brat like you!’
    ‘Is that right? Then who do you take it from?’
    ‘I said shut up, you bitch, unless you want me to shut you up!’
    ‘I thought that corny dialogue went out with Paul Muni. You go to the movies often?’
    His face dark with rage, he called her an obscene name. He had hoped to shock her into silence, but instead, she laughed with genuine amusement.
    ‘Oh, that’s fab!’ she said. ‘You’re right out of a museum!’
    Slightly increasing speed, he drove on, ignoring her and seething with rage. She studied his flushed face and the viciousness of his mouth and shrugged indifferently. She had never