The Complete Crime Stories by James M. Cain Page A

patch of flesh, lovely smell, and brave, hissing spit.
    He called in a queer strained voice: “Yay!”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œCome back here a minute.”
    She ran back and stood in front of him. He wanted to say something; didn’t know what it was; then heard himself talking, in the same queer voice, about his hope there was no hard feelings about what he had said, back there in the mine, before they started out. She didn’t answer. She kept looking at him. And then, to his astonishment, she came up and put her arms around him. Then he said it. He pulled her to him, pushed his lips against hers for the first time, and the words came jerkily: “Listen. … The hell with going home. … Let’s not go home. … Let’s get married. … Let’s … be together.”
    She stayed near him, touched his face with her fingers, then looked away. “We can’t get married.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œWe got no money. You got no money. I got no money, nobody in a coal camp has got any money. … Gee, I’d love to be with you.”
    â€œMy old man would take us in.”
    â€œAnd your old lady would throw us out.”
    â€œAll right, never mind the married part. Let’s not go home tonight. Let’s stay up here, in one of these shacks.”
    â€œThey’ll be looking for us.”
    â€œLet them look.”
    â€œWe’d be awful cold and hungry.”
    â€œWe can build a fire, and I got two sandwiches left.”
    â€œâ€¦ All right.”
    They tried to say something else, but found themselves unexpectedly embarrassed. But then he began shaking her, his eyes shining. “Who says we can’t get married? Who says we got no money? Why, I’ll have a job! I’ll have a real job! I’ll have a company job!”
    â€œHow will you get a company job?”
    â€œThe haunt! Don’t you get it? I’ll prove to them miners that haunt is nothing but water! Then they can get that coal! Boy, will they give me a company job for doing that! Will they!”
    â€œGee. I bet they will.”
    â€œListen. Do you really mean it? About camping out tonight?”
    â€œI don’t want we should be separated, ever.”
    â€œKiss me again. Maybe we can catch a rabbit. Can you cook a rabbit?”
    â€œYes.”
    Inside, an astral miner picked up an astral bucket and sadly prepared to join the great army of unemployed.

Career in C Major
    1
    A ll this, that I’m going to tell you, started several years ago. You may have forgotten how things were then, but I won’t forget it so soon, and sometimes I think I’ll never forget it. I’m a contractor, junior partner in the Craig-Borland Engineering Company, and in my business there was nothing going on. In your business, I think there was a little going on, anyway enough to pay the office help provided they would take a ten per cent cut and forget about the Christmas bonus. But in my business, nothing. We sat for three years with our feet on our desks reading magazines, and after the secretaries left we filled in for a while by answering the telephone. Then we didn’t even do that, because the phone didn’t ring any more. We just sat there, and switched from the monthlies to the weeklies, because they came out oftener.
    It got so bad that when Craig, my partner, came into the office one day with a comical story about a guy that wanted a concrete chicken coop built, somewhere out in Connecticut, that we looked at each other shifty-eyed for a minute, and then without saying a word we put on our hats and walked over to Grand Central to take the train. We wanted that coop so bad we could hardly wait to talk to him. We built it on a cost-plus basis, and I don’t think there’s another one like it in the world. It’s insulated concrete, with electric heat control, automatic sewage disposal, accommodations for 5,000 birds, and all for $3,000, of which