The Long Wait Read Online Free PDF Page B

was just asking,” she said. “It’s hard to tell what a guy’s like these days and you look like you already had one hung on you.”
    â€œYou mean the head?”
    â€œThat and your jacket.”
    Pop shoved his plate back and picked up the last of his drink. “He got that from the cops, honey.”
    The smile waned away. “Cops?”
    â€œHis name is Johnny McBride.”
    That beautiful mouth made a curve that said a silent “Ohl” that became part of a frightened scrowl. “You mean ...”
    I took it up from there. “The police would like to prove that I killed somebody.”
    â€œBut ... they did!”
    â€œYou ought to speak to them and find out.”
    Her eyes went between me and Pop. He jerked his thumb at me. “Look at his fingers, Wendy.”
    I turned my hands over and let her have a peek at the smooth surfaces of my fingers. There was nothing ugly about them. A lot of hard work rigging oil derricks had taken away most of the discoloration and they would have looked just like fingers if they weren’t so slick.
    She was going to say something, but Pop beat her to it. “He’s crazy.”
    I pulled my hands back and picked up the butt. “You’d be surprised how sane I am.” My voice had a hard edge to it.
    Pop caught it the first time. “What do ya mean?” “Why’d you bring me here, Pop? There were plenty of places to eat in town.”
    He didn’t answer.
    â€œBefore you left you made a phone call. It was to blondie here. Why?”
    It caught him with his mouth open. He let it hang that way for a second before closing it sheepishly. “You was listening,” he accused me.
    â€œListening nuts. I’m guessing and I’m guessing right.”
    â€œYou’re right, Johnny. He called me.” I grinned at the blonde and let her throw the ball to the old duffer.
    â€œOkay, Johnny,” he said, “I called her. Now I’ll tell you why. I think you’re a plain damn fool for sticking around, but that’s your business and I’m not butting in there. Just the same, you park right out where everybody can see you and you’re asking for trouble. Wendy here owns a pretty big house and she’s going to take you in.”
    â€œThat all?” I asked.
    â€œThat’s all, Johnny.” He stopped and stared at his plate. “Can’t you tell me what’s biting you?”
    â€œNo. Nothing’s biting me.”
    â€œAh, I don’t know. A guy’s not much help when he’s old, I guess. When you was a little kid and used to hang around the station I was the guy who fixed your kites and took the knots outa your fishing line. Ever since you got into trouble I’ve worried myself sick over you. Come on, let’s get outta here.”
    And there it was, another piece of history that went back twenty years. Like most kids, I was supposed to have made the station a regular hangout. I bet I even used to know the schedules by heart. Now I could quit worrying about why the old guy was so damn friendly. It was nice to know those things, especially when I had never seen him before in my life.
    Wendy picked up her hat and purse, said so-long to Louie and the bar crowd, then joined us outside. There was only room for two in the front of the Ford, so I got in back and took it easy awhile. Nobody said anything until the car rolled in against the platform, then the old boy got out and told me to get up front.
    I said, “Sure, Pop.”
    He gave a tug at his mustache and glared at me. “And damnit, stop calling me ‘Pop’! You know my name as well as I do!”
    â€œOkay, Mr. Henderson.”
    â€œYou sure got fresh in five years, Johnny.” He stamped away, but got over his mad soon enough to turn around and wave.
    We waved back and he disappeared inside.
    The station was still empty.
    â€œWhere you staying, Johnny?”
    â€œHathaway