Robert Bloch's Psycho Read Online Free Page A

a thing, one of these guys tried to mess with him. Little sissy boy, he’d just cry and curl up like a ball. You gotta be mean to deal with them.”
    â€œAnd strong,” Eleanor said, moving her body against his. “God, Myron, you’re so strong…”
    And then his hands were cupping her face, forcing her head to his, crushing his mouth on hers, and she let herself be pulled down, down onto the clean white sheets …
    *   *   *
    Several minutes later, he was still lying on top of her, the meanness gone out of him. Her womanly body, firm yet soft where it mattered, supported him the way that his bony wife’s never had, and she seemed to have no trouble breathing, even with his weight on her chest. She was as strong as he was, and that was saying something.
    He propped himself on his elbows and kissed her, as much from affection as from duty. Eleanor understood him in ways his wife never could, and he appreciated her, the way she allowed him to take out his meanness on her, the way she listened when he talked, told him what he needed to hear, gave him what he wanted when he wanted it.
    But now was the dangerous time, when he felt as vulnerable as he ever did, when she would suggest how good it would be if they were together all the time, when she would hint, and hint only, God bless her, that it was easier in these modern times to end a loveless marriage.
    What she didn’t understand, and what he’d tried to explain to her, was that once a man took a woman in the sight of God, he couldn’t put her away from him. The Bible said not to do that, and Myron didn’t have any intention of disobeying God’s laws. Sure, there was that commandment about adultery, but Myron thought that God surely knew what his marriage was like, how he and Marybelle hadn’t had relations in nine years, and that a man needed certain things.
    Myron had never been with a whore, but when, seven years earlier, he’d sensed that Eleanor Lindstrom’s needs were just as great as his own, he’d made an arrangement with Jesus. If he honored his marriage by staying with Marybelle, then Jesus would look the other way when he found ease with Eleanor. And he would honor that arrangement by working even harder to bring whatever justice he could to these truly evil men around whom he worked. Thank God that Eleanor, his secret lover, felt the same way about these satanic creatures that he did.
    But now that he had found ease and gotten that meanness out, it was time to part, before he said something to Eleanor that he’d regret and that might haunt him later. Just as he pushed himself off of her, there was a loud clunk from a dark corner, and Eleanor stiffened under him.
    â€œWhat was that?” she whispered. “Somebody there?”
    â€œRelax,” Myron said, getting to his feet. “Just a heat pipe—no door over there. Nobody’s here.”
    Eleanor sat up and readjusted her clothing. “Sometimes this place … at night, y’know?”
    â€œWhat?” Myron said, zipping up.
    â€œOh, the stories. As long as you’ve been here, you must have heard them.”
    â€œSure, I’ve heard them all, and I don’t believe a one. I’ve been all over this hospital, all hours of the day and night, and never saw or heard a thing that I couldn’t explain. No ghosts here.”
    Eleanor stood, smoothed down her dress, and ran a hand through Myron’s hair. “I wouldn’t even be afraid of ghosts, as long as you were around.”
    â€œWho needs ghosts when you’ve got a building full of devils,” Myron said. Eleanor started to laugh, and Myron looked at her. It was a hard look that told her he wasn’t joking, and her laughter stopped.
    *   *   *
    Three floors above, in the office of Dr. Isaac Goldberg, superintendent of the state hospital, an opera recording was playing on the console, and Dr.