Pop. 1280

by Jim Thompson

  “Nothin’,” I said. “I mean, maybe we ought to show a little more respect for ol’ Tom, him bein’ dead and all. It just don’t seem quite fittin’ to low-rate the dead with a lot of dirty names.”

  “You mean I shouldn’t call the son-of-a-bitch a son-of-a-bitch?”

  “Well, now, it don’t sound real good, does it?” I said. “It don’t sound nice a-tall.”

  Rose said it sounded just fine to her, but if it bothered me she’d try to watch her tongue. “That son-of-a-bitch caused enough trouble while he was alive without fouling us up afterward. Anyway, I’d do anything to please you, sweetheart. Anything you want, darling.”

  “Then, why ain’t you doin’ it?” I said. “How come you still got your dress on?”

  “Goddam,” she said, looking down at herself. “Rip the goddam thing off, will you, honey?”

  I started ripping, and she started helping me with my clothes. And things were getting right to the most interesting point when the phone rang. Rose cussed and said to let the goddam thing go, but I said it might be Myra—which it was—so she stalked out in the kitchen and answered it.

  She talked quite a while. Or, rather, she listened to Myra talking. About all Rose got to say was a lot of well-I-declare’s and you-don’t-say-so’s and so on. Finally, she said, “Why, of course I’ll tell him, Myra, dear. Just as soon as he comes in from the field. And you and Lennie take care of your sweet selves until I see you again.”

  Rose slammed up the phone, and came back to where I was. I asked her what Myra wanted, and she said it could wait, goddam it. There were more important things to do right now.

  “Like what?” I said.

  “Like this,” she said. “This!”

  So we didn’t do no talking for quite a while.

  Not until afterwards, when we lay side by side, holding hands and breathing in long deep breaths. Then, finally, she turned around facing me, her head propped up on her elbow, and told me about Myra’s call.

  “Looks like a day for good news, honey. First, that son-of-a-bitch, Tom, gets killed, and now it looks like you’re a cinch to get re-elected.”

  “Yeah?” I said. “How’s that, baby?”

  “Sam Gaddis. The whole town’s talking about him. Why, do you know what he did, Nick?”

  “I ain’t got the slightest idea,” I said. “I always thought Sam was a mighty good man.”

  “He raped a little two-year-old nigger baby, that’s what!”

  “Mmmm? Male or female?” I said.

  “Female, I guess. I—ha, ha—Nick, you awful thing, you.” She laughed and gave me a squeeze. “But isn’t it terrible, honey! To think of a grown man screwing a poor innocent little baby! And that’s only one thing he did!”

  “Do tell,” I said. “Like which?”

  Rose said that Sam had also cheated a poor widow woman out of her life’s savings, and then he’d beat his own father to death with a stick of cordwood to keep him from talking about it.

  “And that’s only the beginning. Nick. Everyone’s saying that Sam broke into his grandma’s grave, and stole the gold teeth out of her mouth. Did you ever hear of such a thing? And he killed his wife and fed her corpse to the hogs. And—”

  “Now, wait a minute,” I said. “Sam Gaddis has never been married.”

  “You mean you just never saw his wife. He was married before he came here, and he fed her to the hogs before anyone could find out about her.”

  “Aw, come on, now,” I said. “Just when is Sam supposed to have done all these things?”

  Rose hesitated and said, well, she didn’t know when exactly. But, by God, she knew he’d done ’em.

  “People wouldn’t just make up stories like that. They couldn’t!”

  “Couldn’t they?”

  “Why, of course not, honey! Anyway, most of the stories came right from Mrs. Robert Lee Jefferson, according to Myra. Her own husband told them to her, and you know Robert Lee Jefferson wouldn’t lie.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It don’t seem like he would now, does it?”

  And I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Or maybe doing the opposite. Because it was really pretty god-danged sad, now, wasn’t it? It was a god-danged sorry state of affairs.

  Of course, it was all to the good for me. I’d thrown the bait to Robert Lee Jefferson, and he’d bit on it. He’d done just what I expected him to do—gone around, asking people what the stories about Sam were. Which had started them to asking other people. And before long, there were plenty of answers; the kind of stinking dirty dirt that people can always create for themselves when there ain’t none for real.

  And it made me kind of sad, you know? Really downright sad. I couldn’t help wishing that Robert Lee hadn’t taken the bait, and started asking questions. Which, in turn, had started piling up the dirt around a fine man like Sam Gaddis.

  Yes, sir, I really sort of wished things hadn’t worked out this way. Even if it did ruin Sam and get me re-elected, which it was just about certain to do.

  Unless something went wrong…

  11

  It rained during the night, and I slept pretty good like I almost always do when it rains. Along about ten the next morning, when I was having a little second breakfast because I hadn’t eaten much the first time but a few eggs and some pancakes and sausage, Rose Hauck called.

  She’d been trying to reach me for quite a while, but hadn’t been able to because of Myra’s gossiping about Sam Gaddis. Myra talked to her for a couple of minutes, and then passed the phone to me.

  “I’m afraid something’s happened to Tom, Nick,” Rose told me—just as if she didn’t know what had happened to him. “His horse came home without him this morning.”

  “Is that a fact?” I said. “You think maybe I should go out and start looking for him?”

  “Well, I just don’t know, Nick,” she hesitated. “If Tom is all right, he might be pretty mad if I sent the sheriff after him.”

  I said that was for sure, all right. Tom didn’t like anyone butting in on his affairs. “Maybe he holed up somewhere on account of the rain,” I said. “Maybe he’s waitin’ for it to dry up a little before he starts home.”

  “I’ll bet that’s it,” she said, making her voice relieved. “He probably didn’t have cover for the mare so he sent her home by herself.”

  “That’s probably the way it was, all right,” I said. “After all, he didn’t tell you he was coming home last night, did he?”

  “No, no, he didn’t. He never tells me how long he’s going to be gone.”

  “Well, don’t worry none about it,” I said. “Not yet, anyways. If Tom ain’t home by tomorrow, why then I’ll start lookin’ for him.”

  Myra was making wild faces and motions, as if to say, what is it all about? I passed her the phone and there was some more jibber-jabbering, and she wound up asking Rose to come have supper with us. “Now, you just must come, dear, because I’ve got all kinds of news to tell you. You can get a ride in with the mailman about four, and I’ll have Nick drive you home afterward.”

  She hung up, shaking her head and murmuring, “Poor Rose. That poor, dear, sweet woman.”

  I said, “Why, Rose ain’t poor, honey. That’s a right good farm her and Tom has.”

  “Oh, shut up!” she said. “If you’d have been half a man, you’d have done something about Tom Hauck long ago! Put him in jail where he belongs instead of leaving him free to beat up that poor little helpless wife of his!”

  “Why, I couldn’t do that,” I said. “I couldn’t interfere between a man and his wife.”

  “No, you couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything! Because you’re not half a man!”

  “Well, now I don’t know about that,” I said. “I ain’t saying you’re wrong, but I sure ain’t saying—”

  “Oh, shut up!” she said again. “Lennie’s more of a man than you are. Aren’t you, Lennie, darling?”—she smiled at him—“you’re Myra’s brave strong man, aren’t you? Not an old cowardly ca
lf like Nick.”

  Lennie slobbered out a laugh, pointing a finger at me. “Cowardly calf, cowardly calf! Sheriff Nick’s a cowardly calf!”

  I looked at him, and he stopped laughing and pointing. He turned real quiet, and kind of pale.

  I looked at Myra, and her smile stiffened and faded. And she was almost as pale and silent as Lennie.

  “N-Nick—” She broke the long silence with a trembly laugh. “W-What’s the matter?”

  “Matter?” I said.

  “The way you’re looking. Like you were about to kill Lennie and me both. I—I never saw you look that way before.”

  I forced a laugh, making it sound easy and stupid. “Me? Me kill someone? Aw, now!”

  “But—but you—”

  “I guess maybe I was thinking about the election. Thinking maybe it wasn’t a very good idea to be pokin’ fun at me with the election comin’ up.”

  She nodded her head quickly, and frowned at Lennie. “Of course, we’d never carry on like that in public. But—but probably it isn’t a good idea. Even if we were just joking.”

  I thanked her for her understandin’, and started for the door.

  She followed me for a step, still kind of anxious; shook up from the scare I’d accidently given her.

  “I don’t think you have to worry about getting elected, dear. Not with all the talk that’s going on about Sam Gaddis.”

  “Well, I never believe in takin’ chances,” I said. “I always figure a fella ought to lean over backwards and put his shoulder to the wheel, and not count his chickens until they’re hatched.”

  “Mrs. Robert Lee Jefferson said her husband said that you said you didn’t believe the stories about Sam Gaddis.”

  “I don’t. I don’t believe a god-danged word of ’em,” I said.

  “But—she also said that he said that you said you were going to speak up for Mr. Gaddis. She said that he said that you said you were going to be on the speakers’ platform with him come Sunday-week.”

  I told her she’d spoken the truth, and that was a fact. “You talk to her again, you tell her that when she said that Robert Lee said that I said I was going to speak up for Sam Gaddis, she was a thousand per cent right.”

  “You fool!—” She caught herself. “But Gaddis is running against you, dear. Why should you do anything for him?”

  “Now, that’s quite a question, ain’t it?” I said. “Yes, sir, that is quite a question. Reckon I’d tell you the answer if I didn’t figure you’d have so much fun cypherin’ it out.”

  “But—”

  “Reckon I’d better be rushing back to my office,” I said. “No tellin’ what’s been happening while I was away.”

  I went on down the stairs, pretending like I didn’t hear her when she called to me. I went in my office and sat down with my boots up on the desk. And I slanted my hat over my eyes, and kind of dozed for a little while.

  It was awfully peaceful. The mud was keeping most folks indoors, and the painters were taking the day off because of the wet, so there wasn’t a lot of slamming and banging and calling back and forth from them. A fella could really rest for a change, and catch up the sleep that he didn’t get at night.

  I rested and slept until noon, when I went upstairs for dinner.

  Myra had got over her scare, and was about back to normal. She looked at me and said she could see I’d had a very busy morning, and she hoped I wasn’t wearing myself out.

  “Well, I’m trying not to,” I said. “A fella like me, with the whole county depending on him for law and order, has got to watch out for his health. Which sort of reminds me. About me takin’ Rose Hauck home tonight—”

  “You’re going to do it!” Myra snapped. “You’re going to, so just don’t try to get out of it!”

  “But suppose Tom’s there? Suppose he’s mad about me bringin’ his wife home, an’—an’—”

  I squirmed, letting my eyes fall, but I could still see Myra glaring at me. At last she spoke, her voice shaky with hate and disgust.

  “You—you thing, you! You miserable excuse for a man! I’ll tell you this, Nick Corey! If Tom is there and you let him hurt Rose, I’ll make you the sorriest man in the county!”

  “Now, my goodness,” I said. “My goodness gracious! You don’t need to talk that way. I wouldn’t stand by an’ watch Rose get hurt.”

  “Well, you’d better not! That’s all I’ve got to say! You’d just better not!”

  I started eating, with Myra shooting me a suspicious look now and then. After a while, I looked up and said I’d just thought of something else about Rose. Suppose Tom came home, after I left and wouldn’t be around to protect her.

  “He’s bound to be pretty bad off,” I said. “Stayin’ away so long, he’ll probably be twice as drunk and mean as he usually is. Makes me plumb shiver to think what he might do to Rose.”

  “Well…” Myra hesitated, studying over what I’d said and not finding anything to fault me for. “Well, I don’t suppose it would look right for you to stay all night at the house. But—”

  “Naw, I couldn’t do that! I sure couldn’t do that,” I said. “Anyways, we don’t know for sure when Tom’s comin’ home. Might be gone, two, three days. All we know is he’s gonna be plenty hard to get along with when he does get back.”

  Myra fumed and frowned, and said I should have done something about Tom long ago, and Rose wouldn’t be in this position now. I said she was probably right, and it was just too bad we couldn’t think of some way to give Rose some protection.

  “Let’s see,” I said. “I wonder maybe if we could get her a watchdog, or—”

  “You fool! Tom would kill it in a minute! He’s killed every dog they ever had!”

  “Mmm-hmm,” I said. “God-dang if I didn’t forget about that. Well, let’s see, now. I’d know of just the thing if Rose was a different kind of person. More nervy, you know, instead of so meek and mild. But that’s the way she is, so it just wouldn’t do no good.”

  “What wouldn’t do no good! What are you talking about now?”

  “Why, a gun,” I said. “You know, one of them things you shoot with. But it sure wouldn’t do no good with Rose, her bein’ scared of her own shadder, so—”

  “That’s it!” Myra cut in. “We’ll get her a gun! She ought to have one anyway, a woman alone as much as she is.”

  “But what good will it do?” I said. “Rose wouldn’t shoot no one to save her life.”

  “I’m not so sure about that—not if her life was at stake. At any rate, she could point it. Make that big brute of a husband keep away from her.”

  “Well, now, I just don’t know about that,” I said. “If you ask me—”

  “I’m not asking you! I’m taking Rose out to get a gun this very day, so just finish your dinner and shut up!”

  I finished eating, and went back down to my office. I rested and dozed some more, but not as good as I had in the morning. I was kind of puzzled with myself, you know, wondering why I’d wanted Rose Hauck to have a gun. Because, of course, I did want her to have one.

  I tried to tell myself that it was just for her own protection, just in case someone tried to bother her. But I knew that wasn’t my real reason. My real reason, I guessed, was something I hadn’t quite figured out yet. It was part of something else, some plan-wishes I had for Myra and Lennie—and I hadn’t quite figured out what they were either.

  Maybe it don’t seem to make sense for a fella to be doing things for a reason that he don’t know about. But I reckon I’ve been doing it most of my life. The reason I went to see Ken Lacey, for example, wasn’t the one I let on that it was. I’d done it because I had a plan for him—and you’ve seen what that plan was. But I didn’t know it at the time I’d called on him.

  I’d had kind of a goal, and I’d figured that a fella like Ken could be a lot of help in bringing it about. But just how I was going to use him I wasn’t even halfway sure.

  And it was the same situation now, with Rose and the gun. Al
l I knew was that they probably fitted into a plan for Myra and Lennie. But I didn’t have no real idea of what the plan was; I purely didn’t.

  Except that it was probably pretty unpleasant…

  Rose got to the courthouse around four o’clock that afternoon. I was on the lookout for her, and I got her in the office for a minute before she could go on upstairs.

  She was looking prettier than I’d ever seen her, which was really saying something. She said she’d slept like a goddam baby all night long, and she’d woke up laughing, thinking about that son-of-a-bitch of a Tom being dead out in the mud somewheres.

  “Did I do all right when I called up this morning, honey?” she whispered. “It sounded like I was really concerned about the dirty bastard?”

  “You did just fine,” I said. “And looky, baby…”

  I told her about the gun, how it would look like she was worried about Tom beating her up when he came back—which, you see, would prove she didn’t know he was dead. And she kind of hesitated for a second, giving me a quick frowny look, but she didn’t argue about it.

  “Whatever you say, Nick, honey. If you think it’s a good idea.”

  “Well, it was actually Myra’s,” I said. “I just about had to go along with it, or it would have looked like I knew Tom wasn’t coming back.”

  Rose nodded and said. “What the hell?”, dismissing the subject. “Maybe I can take a shot at you some time, if you’re not real nice to me.”

  “That time ain’t never gonna come,” I said. And I gave her a quick hug and a squeeze, and she went on up the stairs.

  She and Myra went out a little later to get the gun, and stayed out until after five.

  A few minutes before six, Myra called me, and I closed the office and went upstairs to supper.

  Myra did most of the talking, like she always did; shutting me up whenever I said anything. About all Rose did was agree with her, putting in a word now and then about how wonderful and smart Myra was. And that was the same as usual, too. We finished eating. Myra and Rose started clearing up the dishes. Lennie looked at me to see if I was watching him—which I was, only he didn’t know it—and then he made a sneak toward the door.