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Wild (1958) by Gil Brewer

Wild (1958) by Gil Brewer

Author:Gil Brewer
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
ISBN: 9781440542510
Publisher: F+W Media, Inc.
Published: 2012-04-01T04:00:00+00:00


Leaving the parking area, I spotted the police car on open ground, shadowed against the paler waters of Tampa Bay. I knew then what Vagas had planned. Tail me and let me do the leading.

It irritated me plenty. I turned the lights off, set the gas pedal on the floor, and lost the car in the tangle of residential streets on my way to the Crafford address.

Maybe Steifer was driving.

SIXTEEN

ASA CRAFFORD’S EYES were big and hot. She still wore the filmy black shorty nightgown with the big red bows, and she still didn’t look sleepy.

“How is she?” I said.

“She’s fine. She’s so fine she isn’t even here.”

I shoved her out of the way and walked through into the hall. “Where did you have her?”

“Down there—the room off the end of the hall. Wait, Lee. I tell you she’s not here.”

I kept walking fast down the length of the hall. This was one great big beautiful God-damned night, this was. I reached the end of the hall. She ran along behind me. I turned into an unlighted room, found the wall switch, flipped it.

Across the room was a broad couch where somebody had been lying. A red woolen blanket was snarled off across the floor. There was a dent in a large yellow pillow where her head must have lain.

“Where is she?”

Asa Crafford eyed me, smiling. I took hold of her shoulders and shook her. Her breasts swung bobbling and her body gave sensuously with the pressure of my hands.

“I like it when you’re rough,” she said.

“Where is she!”

“I tried to sober her up. I let her sleep a while. Then I dragged her into the shower and turned it on full blast. She came around. I fed her black coffee, then dosed her with a Dexedrine bomb. It worked, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. She just wanted to get away.”

“So you let her.”

“Elk took her. He was hanging around when I had her in the shower, the bastard. ‘Need a towel?’ he said. I left him with her. Next thing I heard was the car, and he’d taken her away. The hell with both of them, darling.”

“Where would he take her?”

“How should I know?”

“This is great,” I said.

“Care for a drink?”

“Yes.”

She turned and walked back down the hall. I went after-her. She turned into the big front room.

“I’m over here. In case you’re interested.”

I stood there. The room was lighted softly around the baseboards. Her legs were long and white and smooth, swelling to lush thigh and hip and the ruffle of black gown with the red bows, then the breasts, the lips, the eyes. Soft slow blue jazz flowed like warm milk through the room from a record player. I went over and flipped the record arm off, then looked at her.

She stood with her back to me at the bar, pouring things from bottles into glasses that were damned near a foot tall.

“I like that music,” she said. It had been Duke Ellington’s Mood Indigo. “It reminds me of me.



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