The Drowner Read Online Free PDF Page B

gone up there again. Get him on the phone if you can.”
    “First thing. He left three numbers to try the last time he called.” She started to turn to leave and then said, “Mr. Sam?”
    “Yes, Angie.”
    “I… I’m sorry about your friend.”
    “Thanks, Angie.”
    After she went out he wished, with a bitter amusement, he had given the blue bag to Angie. She would have hidden it, never opened it, never mentioned it. But, he wondered, why should I begin thinking of Lucille as less trustworthy? The choice was between the two of them, and Lucille was the brighter one, less likely to be tricked or trapped.
    The phone rang and Gus was on the line. As usual he was so guarded as to be almost incomprehensible. “Sam, I got a call from one of our friends and it looked just good enough to make it worth while running up here, and I’ve had a pretty interesting day. I think I can safely say it’s going to go our way, and the figure they’re trying to clear right now is just ten thousand over my compromise guess. The field men are making a strong presentation, yes I can safely say a strong presentation to come up with that one as a final, and it goes across the right desk tomorrow, so I think I should be here in a position to give them a yes on that basis. It should be the first order of business, and all set by ten a.m.”
    “Nice going, Gus.”
    “But the flaw in the ointment could be the ninety days. It could get slashed down to sixty, which might make a squeeze.”
    “Accept sixty if that’s the way they have to have it.”
    “That’s the only weak part of the presentation the way I see it, and some new friends here agree with me. There’s no hope of getting off a perpetual audit basis, and frankly I’d like to have it that way so we know where we stand from year to year, with every year filed away and closed so to speak.”
    “Suits me fine, boy.”
    “Say, a hell of a thing about Lucille. A hell of a thing and I felt actually and truly heartsick when I heard about it. A lovely little lady and a lot of laughs, and I extend my sympathy all the way down the line, Sam.”
    “Thanks, Gus.”
    “One of those things, I guess. One of the lumps in the road of life. We get this problem up here settled, and then you can go maybe on a cruise, get a change of scene and a new outlook.”
    “We’ll see. You phone me tomorrow when you have the final word.”
    “I look on the black side of things, the blackest side you might say, but tomorrow I think I will give you good news, Sam. Goodby.”

Three
     
    IN MAY the heat begins its five-month invasion of the flatlands and lake country of central Florida. There are breezes on the coasts, and summer tourists and packed beaches, but deep inland the country is emptied of all those who do not have to be there, and the survivors fortify themselves behind the busy rustle and clatter and cold clinical breath of the air-conditioning machines. It is a thick, wet, merciless, dispiriting heat, and those who endure it are like those who stay behind to guard a fortress, congratulating each other on their stamina, their sense of duty, and sneering at the ones who have fled. The high thunderstorms roll across the land, and after a brief illusion of coolness, everything settles back into the steamy silence. The insects and toads are in constant shrill chorus, and the birds make small random sounds. Tan fades because the direct sunlight is too much torment, and flesh is mottled with rash. People wrap a hand in a handkerchief before touching the door handle of a car. There is a stir of life in the early morning, and a mild resurgence after the sun goes down, but through the long days the streets of the small towns are a baking emptiness, the infrequent pedestrian moving slowly, his shoulders hunched against the weight of the sun, his eyes slitted against the unending glare. The owners of backyard swimming pools bring home cakes of ice to cool the pools to the point where it is possible to