"yourlifeismine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barton Gary)

honey.

She was so sweet and pretty, that something all choked up in my throat; and instead of
just sitting there in the booth behind you, I downed a quick double rye at the bar before I
went back to listen to what she was telling you.

I guess that was why I didn't hear all she said, but I had a good idea of what it was going
to be. So I kept listening, and I kept thinking how funny it was that she should meet you on
the first night I picked you up.

She told you her name was Betty Stanton and that her brother had disappeared. His name was
Wayne, she told you, Wayne Stanton, and she gave you some photographs and a good description of
him. But you didn't know who he was, then. You didn't know that until much later.

You told Betty Stanton that you would do your best to help her find her brother, and I heard
your shoes scuff the floor beneath your table. I got out of my booth and left the place, then. I
didn't want you to see me. I wanted to wait for you outside.

I felt a little sorry for Betty Stanton, but I guess I was grinning a little. You weren't
going to find Wayne Stanton, Johnnie Dale!


I followed you every night after that. Every night? Hell! I was on your tail day and night! From
the time you left your bachelor apartment in the morning, till you went home to bed, ten or
twelve or sometimes sixteen hours later.

I ate breakfast at the same counter with you in that little place near headquarters, and
lunch and dinner, and coffee at midnight. I was standing outside a cigar store when you went
in for cigarettes, and I'd be playing the juke box in a bar when you dropped in for a beer.

I just want you to know how close I was to you all the time. I had a hundred chances to
kill you. It would have been so easy. But I couldn't do it yet. I had to keep waiting, waiting,
waiting--

You were on the Century Trust Co. case. You remember that, of course. But perhaps there are
some things about it you don't know. You see, I know all about that job, too. I should. I was in
on it.

Nickie Morielli's outfit pulled that job, you know. Two bank clerks were burned down during
the robbery. Too bad bank clerks always try to be heroes; they should know better. There were
five of us in on it--Nickie, three boys he had just brought in from Chicago, and myself. The
heist went off O.K., but we were a little slow somewhere along the line and had to scatter when
the alarm went off.

The three Chicago boys got too close to a Tommy gun when a police prowl car screamed up in
front of the bank as they were getting away. Or trying to. And they'll never see Chicago again
--or any other town this side of hell.

But I did get away. I don't know exactly how I did it. I only remember that I started run-
ning in circles almost, frantically, desperately, and everywhere I turned there were cops. Cops!