Read The Grifters for Free Online Page B

Roy!" She squeezed his hand fiercely. "You don't seem to be sick. No fever or- Where do you hurt? Did someone hurt you?"
    He didn't hurt. There had been no pain since the day of his slugging. But…
    "Hit…" he mumbled. "Three days ago…"
    "Three days ago? How? Where were you hit? What-Wait a minute, darling! Just wait until mother makes a phone call, and then-"
    In what was record time for the Grosvenor-Carlton, she got an outside line. She spoke over the phone, her voice cracking like a whip.
    "… Lilly Dillon, doctor. I work for Justus Amusement Company out of Baltimore, and- What? Don't you brush me off, buster! Don't tell me you never heard of me! If I have to have Bobojustus call you-! Well, all right then. Let's see how fast you can get over here!"
    She slammed down the receiver, and turned back to Roy.
    The doctor came, out of breath and looking a little sullen; then, forgetting his wounded dignity, as his eyes drank in Lilly.
    "So sorry if I was abrupt, Mrs. Dillon. Now, don't tell me this strapping young man can be your son!"
    "Never mind that." Lilly chopped off his flattery. "Do something for him. I think he's in a pretty bad way.
    "Well, now. Let's just see."
    He moved past her, looked down at the pale figure on the bed. Abruptly, his light manner washed away, and his hand moved quickly; testing Roy's heart, probing for pulse and blood pressure.
    "How long has he been like this, Mrs. Dillon?"- curtly, not turning to look at her.
    "I don't know. He was in bed when I came in about an hour ago. We talked and he seemed to be all right, except that he kept getting weaker and-"
    "I'll bet he did! Any history of ulcers?"
    "No. I mean, I'm not sure. I haven't seen him in seven years, and- What's the matter with him, doctor?"
    "Do you know whether he's been in any kind of accident during the last few days? Anything that might have injured him internally?"
    "No…" She corrected herself again. "Well, yes, he was! He was trying to tell me about it. Three days ago, he was hit in the stomach-some barroom drunk, I suppose…"
    "Any vomiting afterward? Coffee-colored?" The doctor yanked down the sheet, nodding grimly at sight of the bruise. "Well?"
    "I don't know…"
    "What's his blood-type? Do you know that?"
    "No. I-"
    He dropped the sheet, and picked up the phone. As he summoned an ambulance, breaking the hotel's outside call record for the second time that day, he stared at Lilly with a kind of worried reproach.
    He hung up the phone. "I wish you'd known his blood type," he said. "If I could have got some blood into him now, instead of having to wait until he's typed…
    "Is it… He'll be all right, won't he?"
    "We'll do all we can. Oxygen will help some."
    "But will he be all right?"
    "His blood-pressure is under a hundred, Mrs. Dillon. He's had an internal hemorrhage."
    "Stop it!" She wanted to scream at him. "I asked you a question! I asked you if-"
    "I'm sorry," he said evenly. "The answer is no. I don't think he can live until he gets to the hospital."
    Lilly swayed. She got hold of herself; drawing herself straight, making her voice firm. And she spoke to the doctor very quietly.
    "My son will be all right," she said. "If he isn't, I'll have you killed."

7
    Carol Roberg arrived at the hospital at five in the afternoon, an hour before the beginning of her shift. The mere thought of being late to work terrified her, and, by coming so early, she could get a bargain-priced meal in the employee's cafeteria before going on duty. That was very important to Carol-a good meal at a low price. Even when she wasn't hungry, which was seldom, even in America where no one seemed ever to be hungry, she was always subtly worried about when she would eat again.
    Her white nurse's uniform was so stiffly starched that it gave off little pops and crackles as she hurried down the marble corridor. Cut overlong, in the European fashion, it made her look like a child dressed in its mother's clothes; and the skirt and cuffs flared upward