Judge Me Not Read Online Free Page A

that, after marriage, Teed would settle down. Maybe Marcia’s coolness was the result of having guessed what her father dreamed.
    Powell Dennison shut the door of the small study and pointed to a box on the table. “Have a cigar, Teed.”
    “Never use them. Thought you knew that, Powell.”
    Powell gave him an enigmatic smile. “Take a look at the contents.”
    Teed looked at the open cigar box. One cigar was missing, and through the gap where it had been, he could see the green gleam of currency. He picked some more cigars out of the top row.
    “Don’t bother,” Powell said. “I counted it all and replaced it. Five thousand in cash. I went down this morning to get in a little work. It was on my desk, wrapped in brown paper. My name printed on it in pencil.”
    Teed grinned at him. “We’ve got them worried.”
    “It looks crude, but it’s pretty smooth, Teed. No proof. No receipts. No demands. I’m supposed to quietly pocket the dough. That puts me very gently on the hook.”
    Teed ran his thumb along the edge of the box. “It will be a pleasure to take them back.”
    “I thought you might enjoy it, Teed.”
    “I’ll go out in the morning.”
    “Fine,” said Powell in the tone that meant the subject was closed. He opened his desk drawer, took out a small package, gaily wrapped. “From the Dennisons,” he said gruffly.
    “Now, Powell. You didn’t have to …”
    “Have to? Listen to the man. Come on out where the girls can see you open it. Had your dinner?”
    “Not yet.”
    “Marcia’ll fix that. And I’ll fix a shaker of stingers—a personal shaker for you, Teed.”
    Because the dining room was more than grim, the Dennisons had a snack and Teed had a pickup dinner in the big light kitchen, the present, still wrapped, by his plate. Jake shouted from the next room and Marcia turned off the lights. Jake came in bearing the cake, the light of the candles shining on her smiling lips, dark glint of eyes. They sang in the traditional way and Teed gathered in his breath and whoofed at the thirty-one candles, seemingly getting them all until, when he had no breath left, one of them flicked back into pallid life. Marcia walked to the light switch again and they blinked at the sudden brightness. He opened the package. It was a silver lighter, a good one. He took the old battered one from his pocket, leaned forward in the chair, and flipped it into the metal wastebasket beside the sink.
    Marcia came to him where he sat and put a hand lightly on his shoulder and leaned over to kiss him lightly. “Happy birthday, Teed,” she said. Her lips were cool and soft.
    Jake had walked over to the other side of him. “Happy birthday, Teed,” she said, and her voice was shaky and something had gone wrong with her eyes. Her arm went strong around his neck and her lips came down on his, lipsthat felt swollen and seemed to pulse against his mouth. He knew at once that this kiss was wrong, that this kiss would spoil the mood so carefully constructed. He knew that he should force it to end without being too obvious about it, and her lips had parted against his and already the kiss had lasted too long, had become too intense.
    He forced her away gently, heard Marcia’s nervous laugh. Jake stood and looked down at him, with that wrongness still in her eyes.
    “Better put it to bed, Jake,” Powell said, with too much joviality in his tone. Marcia’s eyes were watchful.
    “Yes,” Jake said, never taking her eyes from Teed’s, “there’s school tomorrow, isn’t there? And there’s a hell of a lot of candles on that cake, isn’t there?”
    “Jake!” Powell said sharply.
    She walked with too much casualness, too much hipsway, to the kitchen door, standing for a moment, looking at them, posing in a way that was comic drama and pathos at the same time. “Good night, all,” she said, looking only at Teed.
    They were silent until the stair creak had ended, until her bedroom door had banged shut.
    Powell sighed. “A