Have Gat—Will Travel Read Online Free Page A

minute he had read two or three lines that didn't interest me, the words Pam had written sounding strange in his gruff voice, then, "Divine time at the park. Both OW and JM asked me to the Junior-Senior Prom. Who'll I go with? OW, I think. He's a dream! But I don't think I'd even have gone to the picnic if I'd known anybody like CD would be there. I finally had to just ignore him, he was so fresh. I don't like older men anyway — and he's so hairy. Tomorrow I'll see OW and tell him I'll go with him." Sam paused. "That's all of it."
    "The OW must be Orin West. CD is Chuck Dorr."
    He said slowly, "You sure?"
    "Positive." I told him about the photo in the album.
    He said, "We haven't gone over it that close yet. It's getting tighter around Dorr, isn't it? How'd he impress you?"
    "He's a rough baby. Doesn't seem like a dim brain, though. If he's psycho, he acts pretty normal."
    "So did the mad killers Heirens and Robert Irwin. Looks as if we'll have to keep after the bunch, Shell. Do it the hard way."
    "What do you mean?"
    "Orin West just died. Never opened his mouth."
    It wasn't just Pam now, I was thinking; it was two nice kids. Sam interrupted my thoughts by saying almost the same thing, then, "Nobody knows yet if there were others before this. And there'll be more if we don't get him. This one worries me."
    That was the worst part, the frightening part. Even worse than the thought of Pam in the morgue was the thought of her killer, and others like him, walking the streets, meeting more Pams. They look like anybody else when they sit across from you in a restaurant or next to you in a darkened theater; they look like anybody else when they pass you on the street. You can't look behind their normal eyes into their abnormal minds to see the twisted desires, the strange, savage hungers.
    "We've got to get this one," Samson said. "And we haven't got enough. You know the rules of evidence, Shell. We've got to get him good or they dismiss the case."
    He talked a little longer. I knew what he wanted; he just didn't want to ask me, I could feel the hair move at the back of my neck, and my throat was a little drier when I said, "I like Dorr for it, too, Sam. He's either in it or knows about it. I'll try it again. I'll work on Dorr, and this time I'll really let him have it."
    "Well . . . go ahead, Shell. Tell him anything. If he's the one, he'll be like jelly inside by now. But it's got to be right, boy. He's got to bust wide open or we lose him — and he won't bust easy."
    "Yeah, Sam." My throat was good and dry. "I'll tell you the truth, pal. I'd like about a dozen big cops along."
    He chuckled softly. "You'll be all right, Shell."
    "Yeah," I said. "Sure." I hung up and walked back to the clubhouse.

    I really didn't want to go back in there at all. I stopped in front of the door, put the .38 into my coat pocket, and kept my hand on it as I rang the bell.
    Ratface looked out at me; I brushed past him and stopped just inside the room. Heads jerked around, eyes narrowed and I heard voices, "Well, he's askin' for it." Ratface started the ha-ha and the others took it up automatically.
    I grabbed Ratface and yanked him to me, damn near lifting him off his feet. I put my face close to his. "Listen, you little fleeper, bag your head. Chop it! I've had all of you I can take."
    His face got red and he put his hand on his hip.
    "Go ahead," I said. "I'll lay you over my knee and let your punk friends laugh at that."
    The door of the side room opened and Chuck was glaring at me. Even from where I stood I could see his jaw muscles bouncing around. The room got quiet. I shoved Ratface away from me hard enough to send him halfway across the room, then walked to Chuck, stopped near him where I could watch him and the kids at the same time.
    He said coldly, slowly, "I told you to blow, Slewfoot."
    "You told me a lot of things, friend."
    His eyes narrowed. Lipstick stained his mouth. In the room behind him I could see the blonde sitting on a