A wasteland of strangers by Bill Pronzini
Authors: Bill Pronzini
Tags: City and Town Life, Strangers
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high-and-mighty mouth for her. Women. Lousy, lying bitches. Better not hit me anymore, Earle, L«von't stand for you hitting me anymore. Yeah? But I'm supposed to stand for her spreading her legs for every big bastard comes along. Well, I had enough, too. Man can only take so much—
Here she comes. Damn little Jap car of hers sounds like a washing machine, hear it coming half a mile away. I hate that crappy Jap car. Why the hell wouldn't she listen to me and buy American like I told her? Push that friggin' car off a cliff someday. Yeah, and maybe with her in it.
I went into the living room and stood there so she'd see me soon as she walked in. She almost dropped the grocery sack she was carrying. Her eyes got wide and scared. Good. I liked that. I liked it just fine.
"Earle," she said.
"Didn't expect to see me, did you?"
"Well, you said you might be home for lunch—"
"But you took a chance I wouldn't be."
"A chance? I don't know what—"
"You know what, all right. You know what."
"Earle, please don't be mad."
"How was it, baby? Huh?"
"How was what? Safeway? That's where I've been, I had to pick up a few things—"
"I know what you picked up. That big, ugly bastard and his horse cock, that's what you went out and picked up."
"Oh God! I swear I was at Safeway. Go down and ask Sally Smith, she was my checker, she'll tell you—"
"Lie to me, you mean. All you bitches lie for each other. You think I don't know how it is?"
"I've never cheated on you, Earle. Never, not even once. Listen to me, honey, please—"
"I'm through listening, you damn cheap little whore."
"Stop it! Stop it!"
I stopped it, all right. I stopped it with my fist smack in her lying mouth.
George Petrie
THE WAY OUT occurred to me right after lunch. At least that was when I was first conscious of it. It may have been there all along, planted days ago or even longer, hidden and growing under all the pressures piling up and rotting inside my head like a compost heap. Taking seed and finally poking up like a little green shoot into the light.
When I saw it I was thinking again about the stranger, John Faith. I hadn't thought about much else all day, hadn't done much work. Every time the doors opened I expected it to be him. He hadn't showed yet, but he didn't have to walk in waving a gun during business hours. He could be cleverer than that. Usually I arrive each morning half an hour before Fred and Arlene, enter through the rear door from the parking lot; it wouldn't be difficult for Faith to find that out, lie in wait for me some morning. Or worse, come right to the house and take me hostage there. Either way, he could force me to let him into the bank, empty the vault when the time lock released, shut me inside, and be long gone by the time anyone found me.
Did he have any idea how much cash we keep on hand for a smalltown bank? Quite a lot. Must be around $200,000 in the vault right now. Some of the bills are marked, and we keep a record of the serial numbers; we also have one of those indelible red-dye packets. But if Faith is a professional thief, he'll know ways to avoid traps like that. All that money, $200,000 in cash—his to spend, free and clear.
Unless somebody else took it first.
And there it was, the way out: Unless / took it first.
The idea is absolutely terrifying. But it also excites me. Dangerous ... yet not any more so than taking the seven thousand. And not any more frightening than the prison sentence I'm already facing. It's my one and only chance at escape, freedom, the brass ring. No more Ramona, no more Pomo, no more worries. And $200,000 in tax-free, spendable cash!
But if I did dare to take it, where would I go? You can travel anywhere in the world on that much money, to someplace that doesn't have an extradition treaty with the U.S. All you need is a passport. And I don't have one. Forever dreaming of far-off, exotic places, but I'd never been to any of them, couldn't afford it on my salary. I've never been
Here she comes. Damn little Jap car of hers sounds like a washing machine, hear it coming half a mile away. I hate that crappy Jap car. Why the hell wouldn't she listen to me and buy American like I told her? Push that friggin' car off a cliff someday. Yeah, and maybe with her in it.
I went into the living room and stood there so she'd see me soon as she walked in. She almost dropped the grocery sack she was carrying. Her eyes got wide and scared. Good. I liked that. I liked it just fine.
"Earle," she said.
"Didn't expect to see me, did you?"
"Well, you said you might be home for lunch—"
"But you took a chance I wouldn't be."
"A chance? I don't know what—"
"You know what, all right. You know what."
"Earle, please don't be mad."
"How was it, baby? Huh?"
"How was what? Safeway? That's where I've been, I had to pick up a few things—"
"I know what you picked up. That big, ugly bastard and his horse cock, that's what you went out and picked up."
"Oh God! I swear I was at Safeway. Go down and ask Sally Smith, she was my checker, she'll tell you—"
"Lie to me, you mean. All you bitches lie for each other. You think I don't know how it is?"
"I've never cheated on you, Earle. Never, not even once. Listen to me, honey, please—"
"I'm through listening, you damn cheap little whore."
"Stop it! Stop it!"
I stopped it, all right. I stopped it with my fist smack in her lying mouth.
George Petrie
THE WAY OUT occurred to me right after lunch. At least that was when I was first conscious of it. It may have been there all along, planted days ago or even longer, hidden and growing under all the pressures piling up and rotting inside my head like a compost heap. Taking seed and finally poking up like a little green shoot into the light.
When I saw it I was thinking again about the stranger, John Faith. I hadn't thought about much else all day, hadn't done much work. Every time the doors opened I expected it to be him. He hadn't showed yet, but he didn't have to walk in waving a gun during business hours. He could be cleverer than that. Usually I arrive each morning half an hour before Fred and Arlene, enter through the rear door from the parking lot; it wouldn't be difficult for Faith to find that out, lie in wait for me some morning. Or worse, come right to the house and take me hostage there. Either way, he could force me to let him into the bank, empty the vault when the time lock released, shut me inside, and be long gone by the time anyone found me.
Did he have any idea how much cash we keep on hand for a smalltown bank? Quite a lot. Must be around $200,000 in the vault right now. Some of the bills are marked, and we keep a record of the serial numbers; we also have one of those indelible red-dye packets. But if Faith is a professional thief, he'll know ways to avoid traps like that. All that money, $200,000 in cash—his to spend, free and clear.
Unless somebody else took it first.
And there it was, the way out: Unless / took it first.
The idea is absolutely terrifying. But it also excites me. Dangerous ... yet not any more so than taking the seven thousand. And not any more frightening than the prison sentence I'm already facing. It's my one and only chance at escape, freedom, the brass ring. No more Ramona, no more Pomo, no more worries. And $200,000 in tax-free, spendable cash!
But if I did dare to take it, where would I go? You can travel anywhere in the world on that much money, to someplace that doesn't have an extradition treaty with the U.S. All you need is a passport. And I don't have one. Forever dreaming of far-off, exotic places, but I'd never been to any of them, couldn't afford it on my salary. I've never been
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