Pale Gray for Guilt by John D. MacDonald Page A
Authors: John D. MacDonald
Tags: Fiction, General, Suspense, Thrillers, Mystery & Detective, Private Investigators, Detective and Mystery Stories, Political, Hard-Boiled, Fort Lauderdale (Fla.), McGee; Travis (Fictitious character), Private investigators - Florida - Fort Lauderdale
Ads: Link
"Evenin'." It gave me a violent start and when I whirled, I could see from the glint in his faded old eyes that he enjoyed the effect.
In the days before age hunched him and withered him, he could have been nearly my size. His sallow jaws were covered with long gray stubble, and his head was bald except for a sparse white tonsure. He wore torn, stained khaki pants with a narrow length of hemp line for a belt, and an old gray twill work shirt. His feet were broad and. bare, and standing near him was like standing near a bear cage, but with a slight spice of kerosene amid the thickness of the odor.
I gestured toward the dog run. "Red Walkers?"
"Got some Walker in 'em. I don't sell no dogs this time of year. Got just one bitch carryin' but she got loose on me just the wrong time, so God knows what she'll drop."
"Mister Carbee, I didn't come by to look at dogs. I came on a business matter."
"Waste of time. I don't buy a thing except supplies in town and send for the rest out of the Sears."
"I'm not selling anything."
"They say that and I ask them to set, and it turns out they are after all."
"It isn't like that this time."
"Then, you come set on the stoop."
"Thank you. My name is McGee." When we had climbed the steep steps and were seated, Carbee in a rocker and me in an old kitchen chair that had several generations of different shades of paint showing, I said, "I just bought the Bannon place on the river from the widow."
"Did you, now? I seen her once and him twice. Heard he kilt himself last Sunday morning when he found he'd lost the place. Great big old boy he was. Him and that Tyler Nigra come on me one morning drifting on the bay. Year ago maybe. Heavy fog, and me out too deep to pole and the ingin deader'n King Tut. That Tyler knows ingins like he invented them. Spring thing busted on the little arm for the gas feed, and that Tyler fixed it temporary with a little piece of rubber, got it running good. That Bannon wouldn't take a thing for it. Neighborly. Couldn't been too much longer after that Tyler quit him. Heard Tyler is working at the motorsyckle place in town. Anywhere there's ingins he's got a job of work. Maybe Bannon knowed and maybe he didn't that when Tyler quit him, it was because no Nigra with sense like Tyler's got is going to stay in the middle of any white man's fussing. If you're going to run that place, Mr. McGee,, the first thing you better do is get Tyler back, that is if you're peaceful with everybody."
"I'm not going to run it, Mr. Carbee. I bought it as an investment."
"Lease it off to somebody to run?"
"No. Just let it sit."
I let him ponder that one, and at last he said, "Excuse me, but it don't make good sense, unless you got it for the land value alone. The buildings are worth more than the land."
"It depends on who wants the land."
He nodded. "And how bad."
"Mr. Carbee, I've been checking land ownership at the courthouse. You own the two-hundred-acre piece that starts at my east boundary"
"Could be."
"Ever thought of selling it?"
"I've sold a little land now and again. I've got maybe seventeen, eighteen hundred acres left, scattered around the east county, and except for this hundred right here, my home place, I imagine it would all be for sale if the price was right. You thinking of making an offer? If so, you better come up with the best you can do right off, because I don't dicker. Man names a price, I say Yes or I say No, and that's it."
"Best offer, eh? I better tell you, Mr. Carbee, that I would be gambling on being able to pick up other parcels too, and gambling on being able to do it while my chance of resale is still good, resale of the whole two sections. And I'll tell you right now that if everything does work out, I'll make a nice profit, but if it doesn't, I'll have some working capital tied up until I can find some way of getting it back out. The best I can offer on an immediate sale-provided the title is clear of course-would be five hundred an acre."
He
In the days before age hunched him and withered him, he could have been nearly my size. His sallow jaws were covered with long gray stubble, and his head was bald except for a sparse white tonsure. He wore torn, stained khaki pants with a narrow length of hemp line for a belt, and an old gray twill work shirt. His feet were broad and. bare, and standing near him was like standing near a bear cage, but with a slight spice of kerosene amid the thickness of the odor.
I gestured toward the dog run. "Red Walkers?"
"Got some Walker in 'em. I don't sell no dogs this time of year. Got just one bitch carryin' but she got loose on me just the wrong time, so God knows what she'll drop."
"Mister Carbee, I didn't come by to look at dogs. I came on a business matter."
"Waste of time. I don't buy a thing except supplies in town and send for the rest out of the Sears."
"I'm not selling anything."
"They say that and I ask them to set, and it turns out they are after all."
"It isn't like that this time."
"Then, you come set on the stoop."
"Thank you. My name is McGee." When we had climbed the steep steps and were seated, Carbee in a rocker and me in an old kitchen chair that had several generations of different shades of paint showing, I said, "I just bought the Bannon place on the river from the widow."
"Did you, now? I seen her once and him twice. Heard he kilt himself last Sunday morning when he found he'd lost the place. Great big old boy he was. Him and that Tyler Nigra come on me one morning drifting on the bay. Year ago maybe. Heavy fog, and me out too deep to pole and the ingin deader'n King Tut. That Tyler knows ingins like he invented them. Spring thing busted on the little arm for the gas feed, and that Tyler fixed it temporary with a little piece of rubber, got it running good. That Bannon wouldn't take a thing for it. Neighborly. Couldn't been too much longer after that Tyler quit him. Heard Tyler is working at the motorsyckle place in town. Anywhere there's ingins he's got a job of work. Maybe Bannon knowed and maybe he didn't that when Tyler quit him, it was because no Nigra with sense like Tyler's got is going to stay in the middle of any white man's fussing. If you're going to run that place, Mr. McGee,, the first thing you better do is get Tyler back, that is if you're peaceful with everybody."
"I'm not going to run it, Mr. Carbee. I bought it as an investment."
"Lease it off to somebody to run?"
"No. Just let it sit."
I let him ponder that one, and at last he said, "Excuse me, but it don't make good sense, unless you got it for the land value alone. The buildings are worth more than the land."
"It depends on who wants the land."
He nodded. "And how bad."
"Mr. Carbee, I've been checking land ownership at the courthouse. You own the two-hundred-acre piece that starts at my east boundary"
"Could be."
"Ever thought of selling it?"
"I've sold a little land now and again. I've got maybe seventeen, eighteen hundred acres left, scattered around the east county, and except for this hundred right here, my home place, I imagine it would all be for sale if the price was right. You thinking of making an offer? If so, you better come up with the best you can do right off, because I don't dicker. Man names a price, I say Yes or I say No, and that's it."
"Best offer, eh? I better tell you, Mr. Carbee, that I would be gambling on being able to pick up other parcels too, and gambling on being able to do it while my chance of resale is still good, resale of the whole two sections. And I'll tell you right now that if everything does work out, I'll make a nice profit, but if it doesn't, I'll have some working capital tied up until I can find some way of getting it back out. The best I can offer on an immediate sale-provided the title is clear of course-would be five hundred an acre."
He
Similar Books
