Give Up the Body Read Online Free PDF Page B

as I spoke I could feel it coming down again, thick and heavy. I wanted to kick myself.
    Hilton said briefly, “No.”
    He might have said more but at that moment we heard a door slam loudly somewhere toward the rear of the house. Hilton and Willow got to their feet quickly, looking at one another in a startled, “What is it now?” fashion.
    Someone was running. Another door banged. And then Glory Martin was at the entrance to the living room. She stood there in the doorway, staring at us and panting, her lovely mouth sagging. She wore the black slack suit; water dripped from it and from her face and hair and off the tips of her fingers into little puddles on the polished hardwood of the floor.
    She was shaking. Her whole body shook so violently that it made her head wobble and caused her lower lip to quiver in a terrible way. She wasn’t drunk. I could see that. She was sober. Shocked, icily sober. She opened her mouth wider and her breath rattled in her throat.
    “He’s dead!” she shrieked. She took a step toward us. No one moved. There was no sound but the ringing echo of Glory’s voice. “He’s dead! Oh, God!”

V
    I HEARD A CHOKED sound beside me. It was Mrs. Willow. As I turned toward her she made a grab at the air with her puffy little hands and fell back on the davenport in a neat faint.
    Titus said, “Edna!” But none of us made a move toward her because at that moment Glory Martin went into hysterics. She began to scream incoherently and we all made a rush for her. All, that is, but young Frew. From the corner of my eye I saw him make a step toward us and then retreat to take his stand by the bar again.
    It was a jerky, unreal scene as if we were a bunch of poorly handled marionettes. Everyone got in everyone else’s way. Hilton, his mouth a straight, hard line, had to push tubby Titus aside to get at Glory. Hilton was no taller than she but he handled her as effectively as if he were a good six feet. He simply reached up and slapped her. His hand made a loud, cracking sound over Titus Willow’s loud breathing and Daisy’s bewildered sobbing. Glory’s terrible screams stopped as if Hilton had pushed a gag into her mouth. The wildness went out of her eyes and color rushed into her deathly pale face.
    She gasped, “You …” and crumpled. Hilton was there to catch her. He carried her easily and put her on the davenport, his movements as gentle and sure as a doctor’s. Willow began to flutter close by again and Hilton said:
    “Attend to Mrs. Willow, please.”
    I had been standing aside, letting Hilton handle Glory. And now I steered Daisy to a chair and pushed her into it. She was crying in that bewildered way as if the whole thing were just too much for her to cope with. I said, “Mr. Frew, come here.” I turned my head and looked at him. He made no move toward me. I remembered my training as a sergeant. “Damn it, stop that guzzling and help this girl!”
    Frew came, his mouth open in surprise. I moved away from Daisy toward Hilton and Glory. He was rubbing her wrists. He had a cushion under her so that her head was lower than the rest of her body. He still looked grimly efficient but there was a softness around his austere mouth that puzzled me. His touch was deft and extremely gentle. But Glory showed no signs of reacting.
    I said, “That’s not the way for her.” Hilton did not even glance at me, so I crossed the room to the bar, took the first bottle handy, and went back. Titus Willow had his wife revived and she was sitting, pale and unsmiling, looking ill.
    I uncapped the bottle and moved it in the direction of Glory’s lips. Hilton gave me a venomous look. “She doesn’t need …” He got no further. Glory’s eyes opened. She struggled up, the wildness in her eyes again. I stepped back as her swinging hand hit the bottle and nearly spilled it. Hilton put his hands on her shoulders and she fought weakly against him.
    “I saw him!” she screamed. “I saw him.” Her eyes were