Wild Read Online Free Page B

neighbors fit in?” I said.
    “Damned if I’ll tell you anything else.”
    “You’re damned, then.” I reached out and took a handful of his soaked hair and wrenched his head back, then rolled the knuckles of my right fist roughly against his jaw. I didn’t have the stomach to hit him again.
    “He was giving her a raw deal,” he gasped. “She’s always trying to do right by him. Come on, let go.”
    I let go. He waved an arm around, indicating the trailer, then said, “Look how he takes care of her.”
    “Concerned about that, eh?”
    He clamped his lips tightly together.
    “You answer the telephone, too?” I said.
    “I don’t get you.”
    I let that ride. I wasn’t sure about his voice, whether he’d been the one who answered the phone here when I called.
    “How’s he giving her a raw deal?”
    Something came over his face. He spoke softly. “Do what you like, I’m not saying anything else till I know who the hell you are.”
    I took out a card and held it in front of his eyes. He read it, reached for it. I put it away. It jarred him slightly.
    “What’s happened to her?”
    I said, “How’s he giving her a raw deal?”
    “With that pig.”
    “What pig?”
    “His sister-in-law. Ivor doesn’t even know—wouldn’t believe it, anyway.”
    I lit a cigarette and stared at him. The cigarette tasted rotten. I went over by the sink, turned on the faucet and let it extinguish the ember. I popped the garbage can lid with my toe, and dropped the butt inside. There was nothing in the can but a half dozen or so paper airplanes. Some were crumpled as if they’d been hurriedly picked up.
    “What’s happened?” he said. “Can’t you tell me what’s happened? Something must’ve happened.”
    “Where does Hendrix hang out?” I said.
    “Mostly down on First Street, in town. He bums around with a guy named Lager—Joe Lager. They’re drinking buddies.”
    “Who else does he know?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “His sister-in-law married?”
    He nodded. “A lush. A nympho and a lush.”
    Outside the dog whined mournfully.
    “Get up and get out of here,” I said.
    He looked at me, puzzled. I took his shotgun out of the sink, turned and tossed it at him. He was half up. He caught it, sat down, then came to his feet.
    “Okay,” I said. “Out you go.”
    He walked past me and out of the door. I went over and picked up my slicker, shook it, got it on, flipped the wall switch. I stepped outside, closed and locked the door. He stood there watching me in the fine rain. I pocketed the key.
    The hound’s ears lifted and he sniffed at the air. His coat was plastered with mud and he was nervous. Abruptly, he turned and galloped for the cement block house.
    In the gray light of early darkness, the dog leaped scratching at the closed door of the cement house.
    “Come on, Buck—Buck!” Gamba called hoarsely.
    The hound turned and looked at him, and for some reason my heart pulled into my throat. The hound had been taught to obey. Finally, it whined along the ground toward its master, keening with clenched teeth.
    Vince Gamba turned and walked off toward the lake. He moved over a low knoll. The hound bellied after him. They vanished into the woods.
    I could hear him talking to the hound in a low voice, then the world was a wet silence again.
    I wondered if he knew about the body. I wondered if he could be the “person” Ivor had refused to name. I wondered what she would do when I told her Carl was dead. I wondered what Haddock was thinking. I wondered what Asa Crafford would tell me.
    Did the four hundred thousand tie in? Would it be smart for me to try and crack this thing on my own? Were the gods laughing?
    I went back inside the trailer and phoned Hoagy Stills, an old friend, a ballistics expert with the lab crew of the department. He might know some inside dope on the Laketown job. He might tell me. He was at his home, but sleeping. He worked nights and his wife wouldn’t wake him. I thanked her