Man On The Run by Charles Williams Page A

it was obvious by now that somebody was hiding me.
    “Any person knowing Foley’s whereabouts and withholding the information is a guilty of harboring a fugitive,” he went on. “This is a serious offense.”
    At the next stop a man sat down beside me. I kept my attention on the paper, conscious that he was looking at it too. “Some bunch of cops,” he said. “Whole police force can’t find one dumb sailor.”
    “Maybe he’s left town,” I said.
    “Naah. Probably walkin’ around on the street right now. Whatta you suppose they’d do if they ever run up against a real smart cookie like Willie Sutton or somebody?”
    “I don’t know,” I muttered. I wished he’d shut up. I turned to the comics and let him read them. Apparently he never had looked at me. I got off the bus at the Comet Boat Company and crossed to the other side of Denton. It was five minutes of five.
    There was a parking lot inside the fence at the Shiloh Tool Company, and I could see about thirty cars in it. Since we hadn’t seen her get off a bus this morning there was a possibility she drove to work. If she did, I’d be out of luck. But at least I could spot the car, and tomorrow Suzy might be able to follow it. At five a whistle blew, and men came pouring out of the Shiloh plant, but none of the office staff emerged.
    They came out at five-thirty. Some of them headed for their cars around at the side. In a moment I saw. her. She came on out to the sidewalk. She had on a lightweight cloth coat and was carrying the large alligator bag. When she reached the corner, she stopped, waited for the light, and came over on this side. She was going to catch the bus at the stop in front of the coffee shop.
    I walked down that way behind her. There were five or six other people waiting, and a bus was coming now. It was already well loaded, but it pulled to the curb and the doors opened. She got on. I was last in line, and for an instant I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it. Then the driver yelled for everybody to move back, and I got aboard.
    She was just beyond me, standing in the aisle and holding onto the bar. I could see more room at the rear, and squeezed past her, through the other standees. She didn’t even look around. I went all the way back. I could see the dark head without any difficulty.
    The bus went through the downtown section, and she almost caught me by surprise when she got off. I stepped down just as the doors were closing and picked her up again in the throngs hurrying along the sidewalk.
    She went in the Second Avenue entrance of Waldman’s, the city’s largest department store. It was nearly six p.m. now, and the street lights were on. I picked her up again inside and stayed close behind her in the crowd. It occurred to me a professional would probably wince at the crude tailing I was doing, but she never once looked around, so it was all right. She went up an escalator to the second floor and stopped at the hosiery counter. I moved over to another aisle, staying behind her, and pretended interest in perfume while she bought a pair of nylons. She gave the clerk a charge-a-plate. The clerk stamped it on the slip, returned it. and put the stockings in a small bag.
    She crossed to the other end of the floor and went into the women’s lounge. I moved back to where I could watch the doorway without being conspicuous, and found a chair and an ashtray. I lighted a cigarette. Some ten minutes went by. I began to worry. There might be another exit; maybe she’d spotted me, and had gone in there to give me the slip. Then, when I’d almost given up hope, she came out. She took the escalator back to the ground floor and went out the Butler Street entrance. It was six-thirty now, and darkness had fallen, but the streets were still crowded.
    In the next block she stopped at a newsstand and bought a magazine, then entered a restaurant. It was on a corner, with large plate glass windows on both sides. I could see her without going in