A Shroud for Jesso Read Online Free PDF Page B

first thing Jesso saw about the man was his eyes. They glittered like the buttons upstairs.
    He lay on the cot, face up, and he was mumbling without ever moving his lips.
    “He’s sick,” Jesso said. “Has he seen a doctor?”
    The old woman made a motion with her mouth, turned, and went back up the stairs.
    The man on the cot was lying as before. His bony head looked white and his hair started far back.
    “You Joseph Snell?”
    His eyes blinked and he started to chatter.
    “Look pal. I’m not getting a word of this,” Jesso said.
    “They can’t wait,” the man was saying. “Can’t much longer. I told him. Kator knows it.”
    “You’re Snell, all right.” Jesso leaned closer. “You wanna glass of water?”
    “But you gotta have both. I got it, I got it. Honeywell—You were sixteen, my village queen—” he started to sing.
    Jesso picked up the milk bottle at the foot of the bed and sloshed the liquid around. It was water.
    “Here, take some.” He held the man up by the neck, forced the bottle through the man’s teeth, and poured. Snell started to drink. His eyes focused suddenly and he sat up. He spat out the water and pushed the bottle away.
    “Did you hear?” he said. “A beauty. Man, such a beauty!”
    “Yeah, what a kid.”
    “What a prom,” said Snell, and he shook his head. Then he slumped back again and stared. “Honeywell,” he said.
    “I know. Certainly.” Jesso put the bottle down.
    “Honeywell high! Honeywell high!” The man sounded excited.
    “Look, Snell—”
    “Honeywell high, Honeywell high!”
    “Sure, what a team. Good old Honeywell High.”
    “Good old Honeywell High,” said the man, and his sick eyes weren’t looking at anything.
    Jesso tried to get through once more, but he had to give up. He went up the stairs into the kitchen, and left the trap door open. In the room with the sewing machine he found Bonetti and his daughter.
    “Take him some coffee,” he said. They stared at him. “Take him some coffee.”
    He watched the woman take a cup of the stuff to the kitchen and left. There weren’t any customers in the front; just the buttons with the sick glitter.
    He took his time driving back to Manhattan. The job had taken barely half a day. Kator could wait. And Snell, he wasn’t going anywhere with that fever. The noon traffic was heavy across the bridge, but Jesso hardly noticed. He thought of Gluck once, good old anxious Gluck with the convention smile, biting his fingernails, hardly able to wait for Jesso to throw the job and give Gluck his chance to make his move. All by the code, too. “You goofed, Jesso, and out you go. We can’t afford dead wood,” or some fine phrase like that. Gluck had a surprise coming.
    But the thought didn’t give Jesso any real kick. He kept crawling with the traffic, not minding it, because right then he didn’t feel like going anywhere fast. Maybe a drink would pick him up. Maybe a short trip South and to hell with Gluck and his schemes. Or a woman, if he had a real woman.
    He stopped the car in the Fifties and walked across the street to the bar.
    There was a lot of carved oak and antlers and brass-buttoned leather. Aside from that, the place was almost empty. The barkeep was eating a corned-beef sandwich, and when he saw Jesso he took one more bite and reached back for the bottle of Scotch.
    “Been out of town?” he said through a mouthful. Then he pushed Jesso’s double across the bar.
    Jesso paid and sat down.
    “Where’s the cool, beautiful blonde?” said the barkeep.
    “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”
    “Lynn, wasn’t it?” The barkeep took another bite. “Been here a few times. Nary a drop she had, just looked. You two busted?”
    “You will. Any minute now,” Jesso said. He took his glass and went to a table. He sat down and watched the fat shine of the sunlight where it hit one end of the oak bar. At first he thought about Lynn, because the bar-keep had mentioned her and because she used to come