"Thompson, Jim - Killer Inside Me, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Jim)

He didn't seem very excited. He didn't seem very sad. He was just businesslike, and somehow that made it worse.
"Sure, it's too bad," he said. "Don't tell me that again. I know all about how bad it is. He's dead and that's that, and what I'm interested in is her. . . . Well, do it then! Get on out here. We ain't going to let her die, get me? Not this way. I'm going to see that she burns."

7
It was almost three o'clock in the morning when I got through talking--answering questions, mostly--to Sheriff Maples and the county attorney, Howard Hendricks; and I guess you know I wasn't feeling so good. I was kind of sick to my stomach, and I felt, well, pretty damned sore, angry. Things shouldn't have turned out this way. It was just plumb unreasonable. It wasn't right.
I'd done everything I could to get rid of a couple of undesirable citizens in a neat no-kickbacks way. And here one of 'em was still alive; and purple hell was popping about the other one.
Leaving the courthouse, I drove to the Greek's place and got a cup of coffee that I didn't want. His boy had taken a part-time job in a filling station, and the old man wasn't sure whether it was a good thing or not. I promised to drop by and look in on the lad.
I didn't want to go home and answer a lot more questions from Amy. I hoped that if I stalled long enough, she'd give up and leave.
Johnnie Pappas, the Greek's boy, was working at Slim Murphy's place. He was around at the side of the station when I drove in, doing something to the motor of his hot rod. I got out of my car and he came toward me slowly, sort of watchfully, wiping his hands on a chunk of waste.
"Just heard about your new job, Johnnie," I said. "Congratulations."
"Yeah." He was tall, good-looking; not at all like his father. "Dad send you out here?"
"He told me you'd gone to work here," I said. "Anything wrong with that?"
"Well . . . You're up pretty late."
"Well," I laughed, "so are you. Now how about filling 'er up with gas and checking the oil?"
He got busy, and by the time he was through he'd pretty much lost his suspicions. "I'm sorry if I acted funny, Lou. Dad's been kind of nagging me--he just can't understand that a guy my age needs a little real dough of his own-- and I thought he was having you check up on me."
"You know me better than that, Johnnie."
"Sure, I do," he smiled, warmly. "I've got plenty of nagging from people, but no one but you ever really tried to help me. You're the only real friend I've ever had in this lousy town. Why do you do it, Lou? What's the percentage in bothering with a guy that everyone else is down on?"
"Oh, I don't know," I said. And I didn't. I didn't even know how I could stand here talking to him with the terrible load I had on my mind. "Maybe it's because I was a kid myself not so many years ago. Fathers are funny. The best ones get in your hair most."
"Yeah. Well . . ."
"What hours do you work, Johnnie?"
"Just midnight to seven, Saturdays and Sundays. Just enough to keep me in pocket money. Dad thinks I'll be too tired to go to school on Mondays, but I won't, Lou. I'll make it fine."
"Sure, you will," I said. "There's just one thing, Johnnie. Slim Murphy hasn't got a very good reputation. We've never proved that he was mixed up in any of these carstripping jobs, but . . ."
"I know." He kicked the gravel of the driveway, uncomfortably. "I won't get into any trouble, Lou."
"Good enough," I said. "That's a promise, and I know you don't break your promises."
I paid him with a twenty dollar bill, got my change and headed toward home. Wondering about myself. Shaking my head, as I drove. I hadn't put on an act. I was concerned and worried about the kid. Me, worried about his troubles.
The house was all dark when I got home, but it would be, whether Amy was there or not. So I didn't get my hopes too high. I figured that my standing her up would probably make her all the more determined to stay; that she was a cinch to crop up at the one time I didn't want any part of her. That's the way I figured it, and that's the way it was.
She was up in my bedroom in bed. And she'd filled two ashtrays with the cigarettes she'd smoked. And mad! I've never seen one little old girl so mad in my life.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off my boots; and for about the next twenty minutes I didn't say a word. I didn't get a chance. Finally, she began to slow up a little, and I tried to apologize.
"I'm sure sorry, honey, but I couldn't help it. I've had a lot of trouble tonight."
"I'll bet!"
"You want to hear about it or not? If you don't, just say so."
"Oh, go on! I've heard so many of your lies and excuses I may as well hear a few more."
I told her what had happened--that is, what was _supposed_ to have happened--and she could hardly hold herself in until I'd finished. The last word was hardly out of my mouth before she'd cut loose on me again.
"How could you be so stupid, Lou? How _could_ you do it? Getting yourself mixed up with some wretched prostitute and that awful Elmer Conway! Now, there'll be a big scandal and you'll probably lose your job, and--"
"Why?" I mumbled. "I didn't do anything."
"I want to know why you did it!"
"Well, it was kind of a favor, see? Chester Conway wanted me to see what I could do about getting Elmer out of this scrape, so--"
"Why did he have to come to you? Why do you always have to be doing favors for other people? You never do any for me!"
I didn't say anything for a minute. But I thought, _That's what you think, honey. I'm doing you a favor by not beating your head off_.
"Answer me, Lou Ford!"
"All right," I said. "I shouldn't have done it."
"You shouldn't have allowed that woman to stay in this county in the first place!"
"No," I nodded. "I shouldn't have."
"Well?"
"I'm not perfect," I snapped. "I make plenty of mistakes. How many times do you want me to say it?"
"Well! All I've got to say is . . ."
All she had to say would take her the rest of her life to finish; and I wasn't even halfway in the mood for it. I reached out and grabbed her by the crotch.
"Lou! You stop that!"
"Why?" I said.
"Y-you stop it!" She shivered. "You s-stop or . . . Oh _Lou!_"