The Black Lizard Big Book of Black Mask Stories

She walked slowly into the bedroom, delaying the pleasure. In the second drawer of the bureau, far in the back, was the savings account book, her bank’s name stamped in gold on the cover. She stretched out on the bed on her back, her silky hair a pool under her head. She looked and marveled at the neat, precise, miraculous little numbers the tellers had written into her book. Rustle of bills. Slap of the date stamp against the book. Scratch of pen. “Thank you, Miss Baran.”

And Dan thought he had been so clever about the money. The pout was always useful. “But, Dan, honey, see how sheer these are? They cost four dollars.” Actually they had cost a dollar eighty-three. Two seventeen for the little leather box which, when it held enough, was emptied for the bank deposit.

“Danny boy, this dress is an original. Two hundred and seventy-five. Yes, I know it’s cotton, but look at the lines, Dan. Look at the lines!” The dress cost twenty-nine ninety-eight.

And thus the neat little figures added up to a respectable total. It was funny to think of the term “respectable” and then remember how Dan had obtained the money.

It was time to back out. His nerves were shot. Much worse during the past four days. Unaccountably worse. He’d crack, and if a girl had booted him out before he cracked, then that girl wouldn’t be implicated in what might turn out to be a most unwholesome mess.

She tucked the little book tenderly away.

Within minutes the hot water was steaming the inside of the glass door to the coral and ivory shower stall. The water drummed on her small body, on her firm flesh.

She stood, her face uplifted, and in that moment she could have posed for a calendar presentation of an angel. There was a dedication about her, a look of silvery, hallowed beauty.

It was kiss-off day for Mayla Baran... Angel, to her friends... At the moment Mayla stepped out of her shower, Paul January crushed a mosquito against his cheek and suddenly tensed as he heard the crashing in the brush.

The moon of early evening had drifted under a cloud. He listened and the furtive noise stopped, continued with more caution. Paul frowned. Police would be carrying lights. He wondered if it were someone lost near the lakeshore.

The sudden silence was ominous. He listened, heard the night noises of the insects, the baying of a distant dog, the rustle and chuff of a faraway train, hooting its sorrow at the stars.

“Paul?” The voice was close, strained, cautious and very dear.

He spoke and then she was beside him. He could not see her. With his arms around her he could feel her tremble, the convulsive gasps of her breathing, the race and hammer of her heart.

“Oh, Paul,” she said softly. “They — they have been following me. A man named Krobey made them follow me. But I got away. I took the other road. The car is parked across the lake. I didn’t dare come here through Rockwarren. My darling, you’ve got to come back with me. It’s dangerous for you here. The newspapers have given it such a big play. Some policeman might find you here and shoot you before you could...”

“Before I could strangle him?”

“Come on with me. Bring the blanket. I know where you can stay in the city. It will be safer there. And I have a lot to tell you on the way.”

“Do we walk across the water?”

“Silly! I took a boat. I... I borrowed it.”

“Aha! Thief consorts with murderer. Now I can blackmail you, my proud beauty.”

“It’s really a safe place. Can I carry the little suitcase? It’s the home of the doctor I worked for. His wife and children are away for a few weeks. He trusts me. He didn’t ask any questions. He has a vacant room you can use.”

Together they blundered down to the lakeshore, had a moment of panic before they found the rowboat. She sat in the stern and he rowed, favoring his bandaged side. Halfway across the lake the moon came out from under the large cloud. Her face shone in the moonlight. Her lips were parted. She smiled at him and said, “This is silly. I’ve got so much to tell you. But you’ll have to stop looking at me or I won’t be able to say it right. Listen, Paul...”