by Held, Peter
The door opened. Carr edged into the room. "I heard what you said about me." He looked at Julie. His round face was flushed and twisted. It looked purple in the candlelight. "I thought I'd find you! You wouldn't go out with me —"
Julie pressed back against Joe, watching Carr as if he were something weird disguised as a man.
"You believe this liar, this impostor!" cried Carr. "You take his word ahead of mine!"
"It's not a matter of taking his word," said Julie. "He couldn't have done it. He wasn't there when it happened."
"He was there! He hit me on the head—all his life he's tried to get the best of me!" Carr looked from one to the other. "Julie—I'm about to pay you the most extreme compliment I can think of." Carr blew out his cheeks. "I want you to be Mrs. Carr Pendry. I want you to be my wife."
Julie laughed—a breathless half-hysterical titter.
"Well, Julie?" Carr was his most pompous self.
"You've got to wait your turn. Joe asked me first."
"Don't be funny," growled Carr. He took a gun from his coat pocket.
"Carr!" said Julie. "That's my gun! You took it out of my car! Give it to me this instant!"
And it seemed as if Carr were ready to obey. He leaned forward—but reconsidered. "No, Julie. Struve here thinks he can wriggle free."
"But he didn't do anything!"
"All his life he's worked against me. I'm going to show him it doesn't pay."
"How?" Joe asked.
Carr grinned, moved the automatic. "Tomorrow they'll find you two in here. You'll be shot— with this gun. Julie'll be holding the gun; you'll have a knife. They'll think that you started to cut her—and then she shot you."
"That's a nice idea," said Joe.
"Oh, I'm getting to be a connoisseur in these things," said Carr. "This'll be the third."
"The future governor of the state talking," said Joe.
Carr looked disturbed. "So what? Who's going to know?"
"First," said Joe, "there's yourself."
"I'm not going to tell," grinned Carr.
"Then there's the deputy sheriff in the cabin next door. He's catching it all on a tape recorder."
Carr was suddenly pale. "Deputy sheriff?"
"Certainly. His name is Clifford. You don't think Hartmann would let me run around loose, do you?"
Carr looked around the room. "This cabin isn't wired."
"The bug's behind the dresser, in case you're interested. The wire runs through the corner behind the molding."
Carr sidled across the room, the gun pointed at Joe. He pushed the dresser away from the wall, glanced behind it. "There's nothing here."
"Look on this side," said Joe.
Carr stepped around the front of the dresser. He shoved the dresser out from the other wall, glanced into the gap. Candlelight glinted on metal. Carr stared down at the microphone; it winked back up at him. He stood like a man en-
tranced. Julie reached out, gave Carr a push. He lurched into the gap behind the dresser, tried to brace himself with the hand holding the gun. Joe crushed the wrist across the corner of the dresser, wrenched away the gun.
Carr slowly pulled himself out of the gap.
"Just sit in that rocking chair," said Joe, "or I'll have to shoot you in the knee. And that hurts."
The door opened. Clifford, the deputy sheriff, came in behind a big .45. "Everybody sit or stand just exactly like they are."
"It's safe now," said Joe.
"I wasn't worried about safety," said Clifford. "I just wanted to get as much of that on tape as I could."
"And in the meantime," said Julie, "Carr cuts a couple more throats."
"You trying to tell me my business, young lady? Now you run across to the saloon and call the sheriff."
The rising sun shone in their faces.
"Five-thirty," said Julie. "We made good time." She patted the dashboard. "Good old Plymouth . . . And what are you grinning about?" she asked Joe.
"I'm just wondering how long before your father and mother will speak to me."
"They'll speak when I tell them to," said Julie. "I'm one day older than eighteen, and if nothing else in the world I'm going to pick my own husband."
A large sign arched over the road ahead of them. It read:
RENO CITY LIMITS
THE BIGGEST LITTLE CITY
IN THE WORLD
"Oh, Joe," said Julie, "I'm so happy."
Joe took her hand and kissed it. "I am, too."
"What'll we do first? Eat breakfast or get married?"
"Are you hungry?"
"Ravenous."
"Let's eat first, and then we won't have to get the judge out of bed."
They passed another sign:
ORANGE BLOSSOM CHAPEL MARRIAGES PERFORMED ANY HOUR OF
DAY OR NIGHT ONE HUNDRED YARDS ON THE RIGHT
"Oh, hell," said Joe. "Let's get married first. We can always eat."
