Read A Hell of a Woman (Crime Masterworks) for Free Online Page B

everything, and threw the whole mess out into the garbage.
    I opened all the windows, and hung the bedding on the line. There was still plenty to be done; there always would be in that place. But I let it go at that. I was feeling sort of limp, what with all the worry and nerve strain I'd been through. Almost too tired to wonder who had bailed me out or why she'd done it.
    Maybe it would turn out to be a mistake after all.
    It got dark. I put the windows back down, and drew the shades. I hadn't eaten much of anything while I was in jail; I couldn't eat that slop. So now I was pretty hungry. But there wasn't a damned thing in the cupboard but coffee and half a pint of whiskey. I took the whiskey in to the lounge and had myself a slug.
    I leaned back, and put my feet up. I sipped and smoked, thinking about the way I'd been last night and how much better this was; thinking how a guy never knew when he was really well off, and maybe I hadn't done so bad for myself after all.
    I began to relax. I started wondering again.
    Now, who in the hell did I know…
    Who in the name of God could have…
    Someone was coming up the walk. Running, almost. Up the walk and the steps and across the porch. I jumped up and threw the door open.
    "Mona!" I said. "Mona, child. What is the-?"
    She half fell into my arms. Sobbing, out of breath. I kicked the door shut and carried her over to the lounge.
    "Baby," I said. "It's all right, baby. Old Dolly's got you, and-"
    "Oh, Dolly, Dolly!" She rocked back and forth, hugging me. "I was s-so afraid, so afraid you might not be here and… Don't let her get me, Dolly! Take me away! Help me to get away. I've got money, enough for both of us, Dolly! P-please, please, please-"
    "Wait! Wait a minute!" I said, and I shook her by the shoulders. "Slow down, now. I'll do anything I can, honey, but I've got to know-"
    "Take it, Dolly! You can have it all, but just take me with you."
    She jabbed her hands into the pockets of her faded, old coat. She pulled them out again and money tumbled into my lap, crumpled wads of fives and tens and twenties.
    "P-please, Dolly! Will you? Take the money and take me-"
    "Sure," I said. "You bet I will. But we got to get a few things straight first. You took this money from your aunt?"
    "Y-yes. This and the other, the money I gave to the man at the store. I d-didn't know what to think when you didn't come back. I knew something awful must have happened to you. You'd promised to come back, and I knew you wouldn't have broken your promise if you could help it. Anyone as g-good and nice as you were w-wouldn't-"
    Her voice faltered. Ipatted her hand, uncomfortably.
    "Yeah, sure," I said. "I just couldn't help it, see what I mean?"
    "S-so I looked your number up in the phone book, and I called here. I called and called. And f-finally, today, I called the store, and the man said…"
    The rest of it came out with a rush:
    Staples had given her the lowdown on me. She knew where the old woman kept her money. She'd tapped it for enough to get out, plus what she had here. Now, with what looked like five or six hundred dollars-and me just out from under one larceny rap-we were supposed to take off together. Live happily ever after, and so on.
    And I wanted to-I wanted her; and I was grateful as hell. But, hell, how could I?
    She was looking at me, pleading with her eyes. "D-don't you want to, Dolly? Was that why you said you were married-b-because you didn't really like me? I called and called here, and no one-"
    "No, I wasn't lying to you," I said. "My wife left me. She doesn't figure in the deal any more, so that part's swell. But…"
    "She'll kill me when she finds out, Dolly! She'll know I took it, and-" She began to cry again, a low helpless sobbing that cut through me like a knife. "It's a-all right, Dolly. I d-don't mean to rn-make you feel bad. I g-guess I should have known that you c-couldn't really I-like-"
    "Baby," I said. "Listen to me, honey. Like isn't the word for the way I feel