The Dreadful Lemon Sky by John D. MacDonald Page B

an airplane?"
    "No."
    "Come along. I just don't like to say some kinds of things in front of two people. All right?"
    She led me well away from the others, over to the far edge of the lot. One water oak had sent out a huge limb, parallel to the ground, the top of it almost as high as my shirt pocket. Joanna gave a little bounce and put her palms on the limb and floated up, turning in air to sit lightly. She patted the limb beside her. "Come into my tree, friend."
    I sat beside her. She took my hand and inspected it carefully, back and front.
    "Hmm. You've had an active past."
    "You could have said that in front of Meyer."
    "It's hard to say what I want to say in front of just one person. I mean it's so easy for you to get the wrong idea. I'll miss Carrie. But she is dead, right? And the world goes on. One thing I know from all this, maybe the same thing Carrie figured out, there's got to be more to living than sitting on your butt forty hours a week in an office and getting laid once in a while by the joker who signs your paycheck. I could retire, maybe. If I play it right. But what I want is more interesting work. Like what Carrie was doing."
    "What was she doing?"
    "Don't try to get cute, McGee. Listen, I knew that girl. There's four of us in the cottage now. Me and Betty Joller and Nat Weiss and Flossie Speck. So before she moved out and since, Carrie was supplying the cottage with free grass for her friends, like a paper bag this big half full. We must have two pounds left. Do I have to spell it out? What I wasn't told, I can guess. So it all fell apart for you people. She went to Lauderdale. Now you are here to put it back together again, right? So this is a job application. I'm very smart and I know how to keep my mouth shut."
    "I wouldn't say you know how to keep your mouth shut."
    "This one time I have to take the chance, or where am I? Outside, as usual."
    "Who do you think I represent?"
    "You are sitting in my tree playing stupid. You look smart and rough. You're in distribution after the crazy people bring it in. I want to be a crazy people because I need something weird to do, and the money is nice. I told Carrie she shouldn't be involved, and here am I asking to get involved. What did happen to Jack?"
    "Didn't Carrie tell you that?"
    "She said he got scared and probably grabbed his share and ran. But that doesn't…"
    "Doesn't what?"
    "Never mind. Skip it."
    "Did Harry know what was going on?"
    "Cowboy Harry? He's a jerk. How could he know what was going on? It takes him both hands to find his ass. Why did you come to see him anyway?"
    "To talk to him about Carrie."
    "Why would you want to talk to him about Carrie?"
    "You can keep your mouth shut?"
    "You know it!"
    "Just trying to get a line on who pushed Carrie in front of that truck."
    The color drained out of her face. She wiped her mouth and shuddered. "Come on, now!"
    "She was killed. I guess you could call it an occupational hazard, right? If you want to accept that kind of risk, maybe we can find something for you."
    "But who… who…"
    "The competition, probably."
    She looked down and plucked the orange dress away from her body. "I'm getting all hot and sticky. I better change. Don't go away, huh? I want to think this over, okay?"
    Joanna dropped lightly from the limb and went to the cottage, striding long, and disappeared inside. A lot of people had left. Some had gone into the cottage. Others were talking, by twos and threes. I saw Susan walking toward the Datsun, so I dropped down and got to the car just as she did. Her eyes were red, but she managed a smile.
    "I think Carrie would have liked it," she said.
    "I'm sure she would. Yesterday I walked off with her rings. I forgot to give them to you. And I left them on the boat. We could go get them now."
    She frowned and shook her head. "There's no hurry. I have to be here a few days anyway, Fred… Mr. Van Harn says."
    "Do you want me to go and pick up that package from Mr. Rucker?"
    "Oh, no, thanks. I