The Angry Dream
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She was even lovelier than my memory of her. I watched her as she walked into the room, admiring the smooth movement of her fine legs and the curves under the soft weave of her sweater.
She tossed her thick dark hair back and walked over to me.
“It’s been a long time, Al.” Her voice still had the husky breathless sound that made my ears burn.
I stepped close to her and put my hands on her waist. Her head went back, her eyes shining at me with bitterness and confusion and something else I couldn’t read. I drew her to me and felt the soft impact of her body and kissed her—her throat and then her lips. Her mouth opened and her body abandoned itself to mine, her fingernails digging at my back.
their early thirties in order to have worked at the bank before my father died, held down the positions they had. I had never before seen Jeannie Hayes. “I’m Jeannie,” she said. She moved toward me along the bar, tentatively. She rapped each stool with her fingertips as she moved along, looking directly at me. “I don’t believe I know you,” she said. “Do I know you?” There was a sheen of drying sweat on her face, her eyes clear and dark, her lips a tired pink. She moved in and stood close and
who’d take that money. I don’t care what they say!” She got up and came over to me. “He never took that money out of the bank vault. There’s something you don’t know about your home town—something nobody knows.” “Thanks,” I said. “Never mind.” She stepped in close and jammed the bills into my topcoat pocket. I tried to give them back to her. She shook her head, ran over to the bed, flung herself on it and began bawling. Then she stopped. “Go away,” she said softly. “I’ve told you all I know.
said before,” he went on, “I think you’d better hit the road. What I’ve told you was the truth. And I believe I was wrong, Al—I no longer think you killed Spash. But just the same, get out of my house.” There was a flat look to his eye. I turned and walked into the hall, opened the door. He stood in the living-room archway. “Sorry about this, Al. You go home and do a little thinking. I’ll do the same. If I can be of any help, just let me know. I don’t know exactly what you’re thinking, and
making a play for your girl—that’s why? And maybe because of a lot of other things, too.” “What girl?” “Noraine Temple.” “How do you know this?” “We know.” “Listen,” I said. “I didn’t do it. You’ve got to believe that. I didn’t! But something’s going on—and it scares the hell out of me. I can’t find Miss Temple.” Luckham moved lazily in his chair. “Tough,” he said. “Isn’t it tough?” Cole said. “I was at my place,” I went on. “I saw a man come down off the hill, so that much is true. But
the steps into the yard. In a little while a car’s engine started and drove away. The hound returned, flapping into the room, and I dubbed him “Bunk” for no particular reason. Between us, we got most of the dust off the leather couch in the small room across the hall where my father used to sit and scheme. I brought in the lamp and filled it, lit it and put the blankets on the couch. Then I turned the lamp out and took my shoes off and stretched out. It was cold. Tomorrow I would fix the stove.