Enough! (A Travesty and Ordo) Read Online Free PDF Page A

I can’t make allowances here and there,
what sort of fella would I be?”
    I could tell him what sort of fella he was,
but I didn’t. I merely sat there and glared at him and clutched the inscribed
handle of my pistol.
    “Now,” he said, and it seemed to me
that through his professional calm I detected just the slightest hint of
uneasiness. “Now, I think you’re being honest with me,” he said,
“and you really can’t raise any more money than this, and I think it just
wouldn’t be fair of me not to accept this nine
thousand dollars and call it square.”
    I relaxed somewhat, but my hand remained on my
gun. “All right/’ I said.
    He took out that envelope again and extended
it to me. “Here you are, my friend.”
    I finally released the gun, and used that hand
to take the envelope. Having peered at the negative and seen vaguely that it
was the right one, I said, “And this is the only copy, right? I shudder to
think what would happen if you suddenly came back with another one.”
    “Mr. Thorpe,” he said, “you
wrong me. There aren’t any more negatives, and there aren’t any more prints.
And once I put in a false report, I couldn’t very well go back and call myself
a liar, now, could I?”
    That made sense. “All right,” I
said.
    “Speaking of which,” he said,
withdrawing two larger envelopes from an inner pocket, “here’s the report
I won’t be turning in. You might want to keep it yourself. This other one’s the
report I will turn in, if you’d like to take a look at it.”
    I would, but I glanced through the truthful
one first. “Agitated manner…hurrying in a guilty fashion…
seeming nervous and upset…” This Edgarson wasn’t a subtle writer, but
he got his message across.
    The false report made for pleasanter reading.
Making sure which was which, I gave him back the false one and put the truthful
copy in one of my moneyless pockets.
    Edgarson signalled for the check, then said to
me, “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
    My hand strayed toward my pistol. “What
was that?”
    He did his air-patting gesture again.
“Nothing to get upset about,” he assured me. “You just happened
to mention you were in some sort of marital difficulty with your wife, so I’d
like to suggest you have a talk with one of the staff people at my agency. It’s
surprising sometimes just how—”
    “What?” I couldn’t believe it.
“You’re sitting there and hawking your goddam detective agency at
me?”
    Very earnestly he said, “You can’t do
better than Tobin-Global, Mr. Thorpe. Seventy-four years of reli—”
    “Stop talking,” I told him. “Do
us both a favor, Edgarson, and stop talking.”
    The waiter provided a welcome interruption by
showing up with the check. While Edgarson gathered pieces of my money with
which to pay it, the waiter gave me a look and said, “I get off at
three.”
    “Tell him,” I said.
    Edgarson paid, and the waiter went away, and I
said, “I want to come along with you when you turn in the report.”
    He frowned. “That might not be wise,
having the two of us seen together.”
    “I’ll wait outside. But I want to know
for sure you’ve gone straight to your agency and turned in that report.”
    Shrugging, he said, “If it will ease your
mind, Mr. Thorpe, come right ahead.”
    *
    Tobin-Global Investigations was in the Graybar Building, back of Grand Central. I rode up in the
elevator with Edgarson and paced the corridor while he went inside. He was gone
about three minutes, and then he came back, smiling, flashing his jacket pocket
where the envelope no longer protruded, saying, “All done, Mr. Thorpe.
It’s turned in and your worries are over.”
    “I have to be sure,” I said. “I
want to be able to sleep nights.”
    “Mr. Thorpe,” he said, “I’m not
any kind of trouble for you at all. Now, a man in my job has to turn in his
reports, and I just turned in mine, and I wouldn’t dare tell a different story
later. Not