cw.imarriedadeadman-第22章

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er　Hazzard；　sitting　there　by　it；　lingering　late　over　a　book。　The　others　gone　to　bed；　all　but　herself。　She　the　last　one　to　leave　him。　A　brief　kiss　on　his　forehead。
　〃Shall　I　lock　up　for　you？〃
　〃No；　you　run　along。　I　will；　in　a　moment〃
　〃You　won't　forget；　though？〃
　〃No；　I　won't　forget。〃　And　then　he'd　chuckled；　in　that　dry　way　of　his：　〃Don't　be　nervous；　I'm　well…protected　down　here。　There's　a　revolver　in　one　of　the　drawers　right　by　me　here。　We　keep　it　specially　for　burglars。　That　was　Mother's　idea；　once；　years　ago…and　there　hasn't　been　hide　nor　hair　of　one　in　all　the　time　since。〃
　She'd　laughed　at　this　melodramatic　drollery；　and　told　him　quite　truthfully　〃It　wasn't　prowlers　I　was　thinking　of；　but　a　sudden　rainstorm　in　the　middle　of　the　night　and　Mother's　best　drapes。〃
　She'd　laughed。　But　now　she　didn't。
　Now　she　knew　where　there　was　a　gun。
　You　crooked　your　finger　through。　You　pulled。　And　you　had　peace；　you　had　safety。
　They　stopped；　and　she　heard　the　car…door　beside　her　clack　open。　She　raised　her　eyes。　They　were　in　a　leafy　tunnel　of　the　street　trees。　She　recognized　the　symmetrical　formation　of　the　trees；　the　lawnslopes　on　either　side　of　them；　the　dim　contours　of　the　private　homes　in　the　background。　They　were　on　her　own　street；　but　further　over；　about　a　block　away　from　the　house。　He　was　being　tactful；　letting　her　out　at　a　great　enough　distance　from　her　own　door　to　be　inconspicuous。
　He　was　sitting　there；　waiting　for　her　to　take　the　hint　and　get　out。　She　looked　at　her　watch；　mechanically。　Not　even　eleven　yet。　It　must　have　been　around　ten　when　it　happened。　It　had　taken　them　forty　minutes　ing　back；　they'd　driven　slower　than　going　out。
　He'd　seen　her　do　it。　He　smiled　satirically。　〃Doesn't　take　long　to　marry；　does　it？〃
　It　doesn't　take　long　to　die；　either；　she　thought　smoulderingly。
　〃Don't　you…don't　you　want　me　to　e　with　you？〃　she　whispered。
　〃What　for？〃　he　said　insolently。　〃I　don't　want　you。　I　just　want　what　eventually…es　with　you。　You　go　upstairs　to　your　unsullied　little　bed。　（I　trust　it　is；　anyway。　With　this　Bill　in　the　house。）〃
　She　could　feel　heat　in　her　face。　But　nothing　much　mattered；　nothing　counted。　Except　that　the　gun　was　a　block　away；　and　he　was　here。　And　the　two　of　them　had　to　meet。
　〃Just　stay　put；〃　he　advised　her。　〃No　unexpected　little　trips　out　of　town；　now；　Patrice。　Unless　you　want　me　to　suddenly　step　forward　and　claim　paternity　of　the　child。　I　have　the　law　on　my　side；　now；　you　know。　I'll　go　straight　to　the　police。〃
　〃Well…will　you　wait　here　a　minute？　I'll…I'll　be　right　out。　I'll　get　you　some　money。　You　'11　need　some…until…until　we　get　together　again。〃
　〃Your　dowry？〃　he　said　ironically。　〃So　soon？　Well；　as　a　matter　of　fact；　I　don't。　Some　of　the　men　in　this　town　play　very　poor　cards。　Anyway；　why　give　me　what's　already　mine？　Piecemeal。　I　can　wait。　Don't　do　me　any　favors。〃
　She　stepped　down；　reluctantly。
　〃Where　can　I　reach　you；　in　case　I　have　to？〃
　〃I'll　be　around。　You'll　hear　from　me；　every　now　and　then。　Don't　be　afraid　of　losing　me。〃
　No；　it　had　to　be　tonight；　tonight；　she　kept　telling　herself　grimly。　Before　the　darkness　ended　and　the　daybreak　came。　If　she　waited；　she'd　lose　her　courage。　This　surgery　had　to　be　performed　at　once；　this　cancer　on　her　future　removed。
　No　matter　where　he　goes　in　this　city　tonight；　she　vowed；　I'll　track　him　down；　I'll　find　him；　and　I'll　put　an　end　to　him。　Even　if　I　have　to　destroy　my　own　self　doing　it。　Even　if　I　have　to　do　it　in　sight　of　a　hundred　people。
　The　car…door　swung　closed。　He　tipped　his　hat　satirically。
　〃Good　night；　Mrs。　Georgesson。　Pleasant　dreams　to　you。　Try　sleeping　on　a　piece　of　wedding…cake。　If　you　haven't　wedding…cake；　try　a　hunk　of　stale　bread。　You'll　be　just　as　crummy　either　way。〃
　The　car　sidled　past　her。　Her　eyes　fastened　on　the　rear　license…plate；　clove　to　it；　memorized　it；　even　as　it　went　skimming　past　It　dwindled。　The　red　tail…light　coursed　around　the　next　corner　and　disappeared。　But　it　seemed　to　hang　there　before　her　eyes；　like　a　ghost…plaque；　suspended　against　the　night；　for　long　minutes　after。
　
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　Then　that；　too；　dimmed　and　went　out。
　Somebody　was　walking　along　the　quiet　night　sidewalk；　very　close　by。　She　could　hear　the　chip…chipping　of　the　high　heels。　That　was　she。　The　trees　were　moving　by　her；　slowly　rearward。　Somebody　was　climbing　terraced　flagstone　steps。　She　could　hear　the　gritty　sound　of　the　ascending　tread。　That　was　she。　Somebody　was　standing　before　the　door　of　the　house　now。　She　could　see　the　darkling　reflection　in　the　glass　opposite　her。　It　moved　as　she　moved。　That　was　she。
　She　opened　her　handbag　and　felt　inside　it　for　her　doorkey。　Hers；　was　good。　The　key　they'd　given　her。　It　was　still　there。　For　some　reason　this　surprised　her。　Funny　to　e　home　like　this；　just　as　though　nothing　had　happened　to　you；　and　feel　for　your　key；　and　put　it　into　the　door；　and…and　go　into　the　house。　To　still　e　home　like　this；　and　still　go　into　the　house。
　I　have　to　go　in　here；　she　defended　herself。　My　baby's　asleep　in　this　house。　He's　asleep　upstairs　in　it；　right　now。　This　is　where　I　have　to　go；　there　isn't　any　other　place　for　me　to　go。
　She　remembered　how　she'd　had　to　lie；　earlier　tonight；　asking　Mother　Hazzard　to　mind　Hughie　for　her　while　she　visited　a　new　friend。　Father　had　been　at　a　business　meeting　and　Bill　had　been　out。
　She　put　on　the　lights　in　the　lower　hall。　She　closed　the　door。　Then　she　stood　there　a　minute；　her　breath　rising　and　falling；　her　back　supine　against　the　door。　It　was　so　quiet；　so　quiet　in　this　house。　People　sleeping；　people　who　trusted　you。　People　who　didn't　expect　you　to　bring　home　scandal　and　murder　to　them；　in　return　for　all　their　goodness　to　you。
　She　stood　there　immobile。　So　quiet；　so　still；　there　was　no　guessing　what　she　had　e　back　here　for；　what　she　had　e　back　here　to　do。
　Nothing　left。　Nothing。　No　home；　no　love；　even　no　child　any　more。　She'd　even　forfeited　that　prospective　love；　tarnished　it　for　a　later　day。　She'd　lose　him　too；　he'd　turn　against　her；　when　he　was　old　enough　to　know　this　about　her。
　He'd　done　all　this　to　her；　one　man。　It　wasn't　enough　that　he'd　done　it　once；　he'd　done　it　twice　now。　He'd　wrecked　two　lives　for　her。　He'd　smashed　up　the　poor　inoffensive　seventeen…year…old　simpleton　from　San　Francisco　who　had　had　the　bad　luck　to　stray　his　way。　Smashed　her　up；　and　wiped　his　feet　all　over　her　five…and…tencent…store　dreams；　and　spit　on　them。　And　now　he'd　smashed　up　the　cardboard　lady　they　called　Patrice。
　He　wouldn't　smash　up　anybody　more！
　A　tortured　grimace　disfigured　her　face　for　a　moment。　The　back　of　her　wrist　went　to　her　forehead；　clung　there。　An　inhalation　of　terrible　softness；　yet　terrible　resolve；　shook　her　entire　frame。　Then　she　tottered　on　the　bias　toward　the　library　entrance；　like　a　ic　drunk　lacking　in　sufficient　coordination　to　face　squarely　in　the　direction　in　which　he　is　hastening。
　She　put　on　the　big　reading…lamp　in　there；　center…table。
　She　went　deliberately　to　the　cellarette；　and　opened　that；　and　poured　some　brandy　and　downed　it。　It　seemed　to　blast　its　way　down　into　her；　but　she　quelled　it　with　a　resolute　effort。
　Ah；　yes；　you　needed　that　when　you　were　going　to　kill　a　man。
　She　went　looking　for　the　gun。　She　tried　the　table…drawers　first；　and　it　was　not　in　there。　Only　papers　and　things；　in　the　way。　But　he'd　said　there　was　one　in　here；　that　night；　and　there　must　be；　somewhere　in　this　room。　They　never　told　you　anything　that　was　untrue；　even　lightly；　he；　nor　Mother；　nor…nor　Bill　either　for　that　matter。　That　was　the　big　difference　between　them　and　her。　That　was　why　they　had　peace…and　she　had　none。
　She　tried　Father　Hazzard's　desk　next。　The　number　of　drawers　and　cubicles　was　greater；　but　she　sought　them　all　out　one　by　one。　Something　glinted；　as　she　moved　a　heavy　business…ledger　aside；　in　the　bottommost　under…drawer；　and　there　it　lay；　thrust　in　at　the　back。
　She　took　it　out。　It's　inoffensive　look；　at　first；　was　almost　a　disappointment。　So　small；　to　do　so　great　a　thing。　To　take　away　a　life。　Burnished　nickel；　and　bone。　And　that　fluted　bulge　in　the　middle；　she　supposed；　was　where　its　hidden　powers　of　death　lay。　In　her　unfamiliarity；　she　pounded　at　its　back　with　the　heel　of　her　hand；　and　strained　at　it；　trying　to　get　it　open；　risking　a　premature　discharge；　hoping　only　that　if　she　kept　fingers　clear　of　the　trigger　she　would　avert　one。　Suddenly；　with　astonishing　ease　at　the　accidental　right　touch；　it　had　broken　downward；　it　slanted　open。　Round　black　chambers；　empty。
　She　rummaged　in　the　drawer　some　more。　She　found　the　same　small　cardboard　box；　half…noted　in　her　previous　search；　that　she　had　hastily　cast　aside。　Inside；　cotton…wool；　as　if　to　hold　some　very　perishable　medicinal　capsule。　But　instead；　steel…jacketed；　snub…nosed；　the　cartridges。　Only　five　of　them。
　She　pressed　them　home；　one　by　one；　into　the　pits　they　were　meant　for。　One　chamber　remained　empty。
　She　closed　the　gun。
　She　wondered　if　it　would　fit　into　her　handbag。　She　tried　it　spadewise；　the　flat　side　up；　and　it　went　in。
　She　closed　the　handbag；　and　took　it　with　her；　and　went　out　of　the　room；　went　out　to　the　back　of　the　hall。
　She　took　out　the　classified　directory；　looked　under　〃Garages。〃
　He　might　leave　it　out　in　the　streets　overnight。　But　she　didn't　think　he　would。　He　was　the　kind　who　prized　his　cars　and　his　hats　and　his　watches。　He　was　the　kind　of　man　prized　everything　but　his　women。
　The　garages　were　alphabetized；　and　she　began　calling　them　alphabetically。
　〃Have　you　a　New　York　car　there　for　the　night；　license　09231？〃
　At　the　third　place　the　night　attendant　came　back　and　said：　〃Yes；　we　have。　It　was　just　brought　in　a　few　minutes　ago。〃
　〃Mr。　Georgesson？〃
　〃Yeah；　that's　right。　What　about　it；　lady？　Whaddya　want　from　us？〃
　〃I…I　was　out　in　it　just　now。　The　young　man　just　brought　me　home　in　it。　And　I　find　I　left　something　with　him。　I　have　to　get　hold　of　him。　Please；　it's　important。　Will　you　tell　me　where　I　can　reach　him？〃
　〃We　ain't　supposed　to　do　that；　lady。〃
　〃But　I　can't　get　in。　He　has　my　doorkey；　don't　you　understand？〃
　〃Whyn'tcha　ring　your　doorbell？〃　the　gruff　voice　answered。
　〃You　fool！〃　she　exploded；　her　fury　lending　her　plausible　eloquence。　〃I　wasn't　supposed　to　be　out　with　him　in　the　first　place！　I　don't　want　to　attract　any　attention。　I　can't　ring　the　doorbell！〃
　〃I　getcha；　lady；〃　the　voice　jeered；　with　that　particular　degree　of　greasiness　she'd　known　it　would　have；　〃I　getcha。〃　And　a　double　tongue…click　was　given　for　punctuation。　〃Wait'll　I　check　up。〃
　He　left。　He　got　on　again；　said：　〃He's　been　keeping　his　car　with　us　for　some　time　now。　The　address　on　our　records　is　110　Decatur　Road。　I　don't　know　if　that's　still…〃
　But　she'd　hung　up。
　
　
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　She　used　her　own　key　to　unlock　the　garage…door。　The　little　roadster　that　Bill　habitually　used　was　out；　but　the　big　car；　the　sedan；　was　in　there。　She　backed　it　out。　Then　she　got　out　a　moment；　went　back　to　refasten　the　garage…door。
　There　was　the　same　feeling　of　unreality　about　this　as　before；　a　sort　of　dream…fantasy；　a　state　of　somnambulism；　yet　with　over…all　awareness。　The　chip…chip　of　footsteps　along　the　cement　garage…driveway　that　were　someone　else's；　yet　were　her　own…sounding　from　under　her。　It　was　as　though　she　had　experienced　a　violent　personality　split；　and　one　of　her　selves；　aghast　and　helpless；　watc