Jim Thompson - A Hell of a Woman (Crime Masterworks)

I'D GOTTEN out of my car and was running for the porch when I saw her. She was peering through the curtains of the door, and a flash of lightning lit up the dark glass for an instant, framing her face like a picture. And it wasn't a pretty picture, by any means; she was about as far from being a raving beauty as I was. But something about it kind of got me. I tripped over a crack, and almost went sprawling. When I looked up again she was gone, and the curtains were motionless.

I limped on up the steps, set my sample case down and rang the bell. I stepped back from the door and waited, working up a big smile, taking a gander around the yard.

It was a big old-fashioned dwelling, a half-mile or so beyond the state university campus and the only house in that block. Judging by its appearance and location, I guessed that it had probably been a farmhouse at one time.

I punched the bell again. I held my finger on it, listening to its dimly shrill clatter inside the house. I pulled the screen open and began pounding on the door. You did things like that when you worked for Pay-E-Zee Stores. You got used to people who hid when they saw you coming.

The door flew open while I was still beating on it. I took one look at this dame and moved back fast. It wasn't the young one, the haunted-looking babe I'd seen peering through the curtains. This was an old biddy with a beak like a hawk and close-set, mean little eyes. She was about seventy-I don't know how anyone could have got that ugly in less than seventy years-but she looked plenty hale and hearty. She was carrying a heavy cane, and I got the impression that she was all ready to use it. On me.

"Sorry to disturb you," I said, quickly. "I'm Mr. Dillon, Pay-E-Zee Stores. I wonder if-"

"Go 'way," she snarled. "Get out of here! We don't buy from peddlers."

"You don't understand," I said. "Of course, we would like to open an account for you, but what I really stopped by for was some information. I understand you had a Pete Hendrickson working here for you. Did some yard work and so on. I wonder if you could tell me where I can find him."

She hesitated, squinting at me craftily. "He owes you some money, huh?" she said. "You want to find him an' make him pay."

"Not at all," I lied. "It's the other way around, in fact. We accidentally collected too much from him, and we want to-"

"I bet you do!" She let out with an ugly cackle. "I just bet you collected too much from that drunken, lazy bum! No one never got nothing from Pete Hendrickson but a lot of sass and excuses."

I grinned and shrugged. Usually, you had to do it the other way, because it's damned seldom that even a man's worst enemies will tip him off to a bill collector. But once in a while you find someone real low down, someone who just naturally likes to see a guy get it in the neck. And that's the way it was with this old witch.

"Mean and lazy," she said. "Wouldn't do nothing and wanted two prices for doing it. Sneaks off an' gets hisseif another job when he's supposed to be workin' for me. I told him he'd be sorry - "

She gave me Pete's address, also the name of his employer. It was a greenhouse out on Lake Drive, only a few blocks from where I was now, and he'd been working there about ten days. He hadn't made a payday yet, but he was just about due.

"He came whinin' and beggin' around here last night," she said. "Tryin' to borrow a few dollars until he could get his wages. I guess you know what I told him!"

"I can imagine," I said. "Now, as long as I'm here, I'd like to show you some very special items which-"

"Huh-uh! No, sir-ee!" She started to close the door.

"Just let me show them to you," I said, and I stooped down and flipped the sample case open. I laid the stuff out in the lid, talking fast, watching her face for an expression of interest. "What about this spread? Make you a very nice price on that. Or this toilet set? We're practically giving it away, lady. Well, some stockings? A shawl? Gloves? House slippers? If I don't have your size here, I can-"

"Huh-uh. Nope." She wagged her head firmly. "I got no money for such fol-de-rol, mister."

"You don't need any," I said. "Hardly any. Just a very small payment now on any or all of these items, and you can set your own terms on the balance. Take as long to pay as you like."

"I'll bet," she cackled. "Just like Pete Hendrickson, huh? You better go on, mister."

"What about the other lady?" I said. "That other young lady? I'm sure there's something here she'd like to have."

"Huh!" she grunted. "And how do you figger she'd pay for anything?"

"I figured she'd probably use money," I said. "But maybe she's got something better."

Iwas just being snotty, understand. Ididn't like her and I'd gotten everything out of her that I was going to get. So why be polite?

I started repacking the stuff, jamming it in any old whichway because that junk was hard to hurt. Then, she spoke again, and there was a sly wheedling note to her voice that brought my head up with a start.

"You like that niece o' mine, mister? You think she's pretty?"

"Why, yes," I said. "I thought she was a very attractive young lady."

"She minds good, too, mister. I tell her to do somethin' and she does it. No matter what."

I said that was swell or fine, or something of the kind. Whatever a guy does say in a situation like that. She pointed down at the sample case.

"That chest of silverware, mister. How much you gettin' on that?"

I opened the chest and showed it to her. I said I really hadn't intended to sell it; it was such a bargain I was saving it for myself. "Service for eight, lady, and every piece of it solid heavy-Sterling plate. We usually get seventy-five dollars for it, but we're closing out these last few sets at thirty-two ninety-five."

She nodded, grinning at me slyly. "You think my niece You think she could pay for it, mister? You could fix it up some way so's she could pay for it?"

"Why, I'm sure of it," I said. "I'll have to talk with her first, of course, but-"

"You let me talk to her first," she said. "You wait here."

She went away, leaving the door open. I lighted a cigarette, and waited. And, no, I'll swear to it on a stack of Bibles, I didn't have any idea of what the old gal was up to. I knew she was pretty low down, but I'd never known many people who weren't. I thought she was acting pretty goofy, but most of Pay-E-Zee's customers were goofs. People with good sense didn't trade with outfits like ours.

I waited, wincing a little when there was a sudden flash of lightning, wondering how many more goddamned days it was going to go on raining. It had been raining for almost three weeks straight, now, and what it had done to my job was murder. Sales way to hell down, collections way to hell off. You just can't do good door-to-door work in rainy weather-you can't get the people to open up. And with accounts like mine, a lot of day laborers and the like, it didn't do much good when they did open up. They'd been laid off on account of the weather. You could cuss them and threaten them, but you just couldn't get what they didn't have.

I was getting fifty a week salary,just about enough to run my car. My earnings had to come from commissions, and I hadn't been pulling down any. Oh, I was making something, sure, but not nearly enough to get by on. I'd kept going by doctoring my accounts, pocketing part of the collections and altering the account-cards accordingly. Right now I was in the hole for better than three hundred dollars, and if someone should squawk before I could square up