‘He helped me out,’ she said. ‘You heard him say what happened, Noel. That dirty ape would have done anything. Suppose this man hadn’t been here? What would I have done?’
‘Ho, ho, ho,’ Jo-Jo said. He was lying flat out on his back, staring at the ceiling.
I looked at the guy and he looked at me.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Damn it.’
The girl took my arm and we moved toward the door.
It was a Lincoln sedan. The guy, Noel, walked ahead of us, his feet splatting in the mud. He got in under the wheel and slammed his door.
‘Don’t pay any attention,’ the girl said. ‘We maybe can’t take you far. But it’ll help, anyway. In this weather.’
‘Anything’ll help, believe me.’
She opened the door before I could reach it. She climbed in. I closed the door and opened the rear door.
‘Get in front,’ the guy said.
She pushed the front door open and I slammed the rear door and got in. She jigged over a little and I slammed the front door and we were off like a bull at a flag.
We struck the highway, slid a little, straightened out. ‘Noel,’ the girl said. ‘Stop the car again.’
I looked at her. She sure was a pip.
‘What?’
‘I said, “stop the car.” So he can take off his hat and coat. He’s all wet.’
The car slowed and came to a stop. The windows were closed, heater on, and you could smell the stale cigarette smoke. I remembered my cigarettes back there on the counter at Alf’s.
‘Throw ’em in back,’ she said. ‘Okay?’
I opened the door and stepped out into the night and took them off and tossed them in back, beside a couple of suitcases and a brief case on the seat. Then I got in and this time she didn’t shove away. In fact, she looked at me and smiled and snuggled down comfortable.
‘Is it all right now?’ the guy said, real evil.
She didn’t say anything.
He popped it to the floor and we roared off.
I sat there without saying anything for about a mile. Just waiting. It wasn’t just the cigarette smoke in this car, or the hot air from the heater, either. You could taste the trouble that had been going on between these two.
‘I hope you’re happy now, Noel.’
‘That’s enough.’
‘Just remember what I said.’
‘I told you, Vivian!’ He let it come out between his teeth. Not loud; just hard. ‘That’s enough. You hear?’
She sniffed. ‘Just remember.’
He tromped and he tromped. The car bucked and leveled off at eighty-three. We were flying. There wasn’t much wind, but you could see that rain and snow whipping up out there.
‘Thanks for the lift,’ I said. ‘It’s a rotten night. Not many’d stop in the highway tonight. Any night.’
‘One good turn deserves another,’ she said, grinning.
You could almost hear him grit his teeth. He was really hanging onto that wheel. I turned and looked at her, putting one arm across the back of the seat. She tipped her head, freeing a good lot of the thick dark hair where my arm squeezed. In the dash lights, there was a sheen on her long slim legs. She looked at me then, with one big brown eye. Then she began watching the road.
You could smell the whiskey in the car. It seemed to have impregnated the upholstery.
‘Going far?’ the man said.
‘Down the coast. St. Pete.’
He breathed heavily, hulked over the steering wheel. I couldn’t watch him very well without stretching. He made me nervous.
She laid one hand on my knee. ‘Honey. You got a cigarette?’
‘There’s a carton in the back seat, Vivian. You know that.’
She patted my knee. ‘You know? I’m glad you’re with us. Least, Noel’s not cursing.’
‘I’ll curse.’
She hitched up and turned and got on her knees on the seat, pawing back there. The dash lights were bright. I looked away.
‘On the floor, stupid.’
She came up with the carton and a bottle, turned and sat on my lap, slid off onto the seat and smiled at me again with that one big brown eye. ‘Bet you haven’t got a cigarette?’
I told her she was right.
She ripped open the carton and handed me a pack. ‘Care for a drink?’
‘Damn it, Vivian.’
She parked the fifth on my knee. I took it.
‘All right,’ the guy said. ‘All right.’
We drove along for a while, swapping the bottle. I was hitting it hard. She took enough, too. The guy, Noel, was just touching it now and then.
The whiskey got to me good. But I sat there, propped up, smoking cigarettes and letting the night stretch out. Thinking about Bess. She was a good wife, a wonderful girl. And my brother Albert was a twenty-four carat stinker.
Everything was sour inside me. He knew he would have got the money back, if he made the loan. I never welched yet. Knowing Albert, I should never have tried going clear to Chicago to ask him, figuring a personal talk might be better than a long-distance call.
‘Roy,’ he says. ‘You must learn to hoe your own row. I’d gladly help you if I thought it would really be helping you. But you seem to have forgotten that I warned you not to attempt this foolish motel business.’
And Bess down home, maybe even praying. Because if the highway didn’t come through by our place, as planned, we were sunk.
And that guy, Potter, at the bank. Hovering behind his desk in a kind of fat gray security. And the way his glasses glinted when he looked at me. ‘We’re sorry, Mister Nichols, but there’s nothing we can do. We’ve given you one extension, and you’re behind again. Another extension would only make matters worse for you in the long run. And as far as another loan of any kind is concerned, you must see the impossibility of that. You’ve got to make the effort to clear up your debt and meet future payments. The government stands behind you only so far, Nichols. You must do your share.’
‘You don’t understand, Mister Potter. Everything we own is in that motel!’
‘We understand perfectly. We handled your government loan. But remember, when you went into this motel business, we all were assured the new highway would come past your place of business. It seemed a safe risk. Now it’s all changed. They’ve suspended construction, pending the settlement on a new route. And that,’ he shook his head, glasses glinting, ‘put us all in a bad spot, indeed.’
‘But you—’
‘We have no choice, Nichols. Place yourself in our position. You’re extended far beyond your means now. Either you settle to the date, or we’ll be forced to—well, foreclose, to put it plainly. If I were you, I’d make every effort, Mister Nichols—every effort.’
‘But the highway may still come through.’
‘But when? When? And we can’t take that risk, don’t you see? Suppose you’re granted a year’s extension? And suppose it doesn’t come through? What then?’ The gentle pause, the clasped hands, the dull gleam of a fat gold ring. ‘Surely, you must comprehend. See, here—if we make a loan to you, and you can’t pay it—and there’s every indication you won’t be able to—what then? You’d be worse off than you are now. You’d lose your business, your investment—not only that, you’d have our personal loan to pay. And no way to pay. Of course, we could never make that loan. Never. I’m sorry, Mister Nichols. Very sorry, indeed.’
‘My name’s Vivian. Vivian Rise. This is Noel—’
‘Enough, Viv. Snow’s letting up. Just rain, now.’
‘Teece. That’s his last name. Isn’t that a sparkler?’
I told her my name. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘We’re going South.’
‘A good time for it. How far are you going?’
I glanced down and he had his hand gripped on her thigh, giving her a hell of a horse bite. She tried to stand it. But he kept right on till you could see tears in her eyes, and she was panting with the pain . . .
; ‘Have some more,’ he said sarcastically. ‘There’s another bottle back there.’
‘Sure.’
I was floating. I sat there, riding up and down with the bumps, with my eyes half-closed. Trying not to remember Bess, waiting there, running up to me when I got home, her eyes all bright, saying, ‘Did you get it? Did you get it?’
I held the bottle up and let it trickle down, warm.
‘It’s hard drinking it like that. We should have some chasers. Noel, why not stop and get some chasers?’
‘Crazy? We’ve wasted time already.’
Chapter 2
Water splashed and gurgled somewhere. There was an odor of fresh earth and grass and wet leaves.
‘Noel?’ I heard her say that. Then it was still again. I knew I was on the ground and half of me was in running water. I couldn’t move.
‘Noel?’
Then a long silence. I went away for a time, then slowly came back again.
‘No-o-eeeel!’
Somebody was thrashing around. It sounded like a giant with boots on, wading in a crisp brush pile. The rain had stopped. There was a moon now, shedding white on pale trees and hillside as I opened my eyes. I tried to see the road. It was hidden. I didn’t dare move. We were in some sort of a gully. I lifted an arm. I turned my head. It hurt.
Something stabbed cruelly into my back. I turned, rolling away from the icy water. I was soaked. I was lying on a car door. There was no sign of the car, the girl, or the man.
Only her voice, some distance away. ‘Noel.’
Shivering, I closed my eyes tight, remembering Bess like a kind of sob. Remembering all of it. And then this crazy ride with these two crazy people. Fear washed through me, and I lay there, listening, scared to stand up and look.
Finally I got to my knees. I seemed to be all right. My neck hurt, and my right arm. I glanced at my hand, and saw the blood. I flexed my fingers. They worked.
I moved my shoulders. They hurt, too. When I put weight on my right knee, something stabbed me in the ankle. In the moonlight, I saw the big sliver of glass sticking into my ankle, through the sock. It was like a knife blade, only much broader.
I yanked it out. It hurt and the blood was warm, running into my shoe. I moved my foot and it was all right. It hadn’t cut anything that counted. It would have to stop bleeding by itself. My teeth were all there and I could see and hear and move everything.
Except the little finger on my left hand. That was broken and if I touched it, it was bad.
‘Mister Nichols?’
I didn’t say anything. I got on my knees again, looking around, trying to find the car. Her voice had come from some distance away. Somebody kept thrashing in the brush.
A suitcase and what looked like my topcoat were lying near the door. I looked at the door and it had been torn neatly from the body. Then I saw the other suitcase and I started to get up and saw the brief case.
I kept on looking at that. The clasp was tom open and some kind of wispy scarf was tied to the handle. Only that wasn’t what made me look.
It was the neatly bound packets of unmistakable money. I touched them, picked one up and saw the thousand-dollar bill, and put it down.
It was like being hit over the head.
‘Mister Nichols?’
I started laughing. Maybe it was the whiskey. I needed money; not a whole lot, compared to this. But plenty for me. And right here was all the money in the world.
‘Are you hurt bad?’ I asked.
‘No. Only my knee. See?’
‘Where’d all the blood come from?’
‘I don’t know. My hand’s cut—look at my dress. It’s ripped to pieces.’ She began to look kind of funny.
‘Are you all right?’
‘What’ll we do?’ She started away. I caught her and held her. She fought for a minute, then stopped.
‘Now, for gosh sakes. You’re all right.’
She turned and ran in the other direction. Her dress sure was a mess. She stumbled in circles all around between the trees. I got it then. She was looking for that brief case. She ran into the open by the stream where I had been. She splashed into the water and out and jumped over the car door.
I went on over there and held her again. ‘You’re all right. Now, where is he?’
‘Down there. Over the edge. He’s dead. I saw him . . . No. Don’t go down there.’
She ripped away from me. She had seen the brief case. She went to it, landing on her knees, kind of looking back at me over her shoulder, her hair flopping around.
She shoveled that money back in. The clasp wouldn’t work. She got the scarf off the handle and wrapped the scarf around the case and tied it tight.
I went over and dragged her up. She held the brief case, pulling away from me.
‘Where is he?’
She pointed in the direction of a bent pine sapling. I turned and walked over there, the blood squashing in my shoe. I came past the pine tree and saw skid marks.
I stopped at the abrupt edge just in time. The car was down there. Not too far, about fifteen feet, lying crumpled on its side, smashed to junk, in a rocky glen with the water splashing and sparkling in the moonlight.
The guy was spread out on the rocks, his feet jammed in the car by the steering wheel. The bright moonlight showed blood all over his face and his suitcoat was gone and his left arm had two elbows. He was more than just dead. He was a mess.
‘We’d better get an ambulance.’
She hurried over by me and I got a good look at her face. I never saw anybody so scared in all my life. ‘He’s dead. What good would an ambulance do? Come on—we’ve got to get out of here.’
I looked at her and I thought about that money and I knew she was working something; trying to. She turned and walked away from me toward the wooded hill and the road.
A car went by up there and for an instant she was silhouetted against the headlights’ glare through the trees. She looked back at me, then slipped and sat down.
I went over to her. She’d lost her shoes and her stockinged feet were muddy. She looked bad. ‘Don’t you see?’ she said. ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’
She tried to get up. I put my hand on top of her head and held her down.
‘Whose money?’
‘Mine. It’s my money.’
‘Awful lot of money for one woman to have. ‘What about him?’
‘Never mind about him. It’s my money, and we’ve got to get out of here before they find us.’
‘Thought you said that money was yours.’
‘It is.’
I held her down with my hand on top of her head. She was so mad, and scared too, you could feel it busting right up out of the top of her skull.
These crazy people. All that money. And Bess and me only needing a little. I wanted to crunch her head like a melon.
I was still bleary from the whiskey and my head was beginning to ache bad. But there was something else in my head besides the ache. I kept trying to ignore it.
‘It’s taken two and a half years to get that money. We’ve got to get away from here. Nichols, whatever your name is, you’ve got to help me.’
‘We’ll have to get the police.’
She tugged her head away from my hand and stood up. She was still hanging onto that brief case. She grabbed my arm with her other hand. There was a streak of blood down the side of her cheek.
‘It’s stolen money, isn’t it?’
‘No. And we can’t go to the police.’ She began to rock back and forth, trying to rock me with her, trying to make me understand something. Only she didn’t want to tell me about it. ‘We’re up the creek, Nichols.’
I kept trying to figure her. It looked like she was in a real mess.
I tried not to want any part of this. I started away from her. She came after me.
‘Please—listen!’
‘You’re not telling me a damned thing. Look, you two picked me up and fed me whiskey. I shouldn’t have taken it. But I got
my troubles, too. They’re big troubles to me. So now look what’s happened. I’m still drunk and I don’t even know you. And back there. Your boyfriend’s dead. How about that? I’m getting out of here.’
‘Don’t you see? If you hadn’t seen the money—then you’d have helped me.’
‘We’d go to the police. Like anybody else. You got to report an accident like this. There’s a dead man down there. Don’t you realize that?’
‘He doesn’t matter.’
‘Somebody was following you, weren’t they? We saw somebody in Valdosta and you’d just turned off the main southern route, too. Only you turned back, and we were followed. That’s why this happened.’
She looked as if she might cry. Well, why didn’t I call the police then? Why didn’t I do what I should have done?’
‘They’ll be back.’
‘You stole that money.’
‘You’re wrong, Nichols. You’ve got to believe me.’ She stood perfectly still and got her voice very calm and steady. ‘It won’t hurt you to help me. If you knew who Noel was, you’d understand that it doesn’t matter about him being dead.’
There was one thing: Her fear was real.
‘We’ll take the suitcases and get out of here. Down the road somewhere. Change clothes. His clothes’ll fit you.’
‘Oh, no.’
‘But you can’t go any place the way you are. Look at you. Mud—blood. Neither can I. We’ll clean up and get dressed. Then we’ll find the nearest town and you can help me get a hotel room.’
‘Lady, you’re nuts.’
She dropped the brief case then, and faced me. She put both hands on my arms and looked me in the eye. Straight.
‘Nichols,’ she said, ‘there’s absolutely no other way. He’s dead down there and I’m all alone. I’ll bet you can use some money. I’ve got plenty and I’ll pay you well. If you don’t help me, they’ll find me.’
‘Let them. This is too much for me.’
And I wanted it to be too much. But the sight of that money was like catching cold and knowing it would turn into pneumonia. If only that guy had lived, then I’d have an excuse.
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