[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

pulled in and gassed up. The attendant told me how to find
Cherrywood Drive.
It was southwest of the square, near the crest of a sloping hill
overlooking the town. Near the bottom the bungalows had a
housing-development look about them, but further up they were
bigger, on large, landscaped lots. Cherrywood Drive was only four
blocks long and there were just three houses in the last block, two.
of them on the left, or downhill side. I slowed, looking at the
numbers. The Cannon place would be the second one on the left,
the last house on the street. It was near the corner where
Cherrywood terminated in an intersecting street going downhill.
Beyond the intersecting street was a wqoded area, still
undeveloped. I liked the whole layout but I didn t want to take too
much time now in looking it over. If I goofed around out here until
she got a look at me out the window she probably wouldn t be  in
when I rang the buzzer.
The other two houses were white Colonial types with columns
and wide lawns and driveways. Directly across from the Cannon
house was a vacant lot, grown up with pines, however, rather than
weeds. I pulled the old Chevy to the curb on that side and walked
across the street. The Cannon house was newer, a long, low ranch
style built of light-colored brick with a sweeping, low-angled white
roof covered with broken quartz. It looked very western and a little
out of place among all these pines. It sat back from the street in a
large expanse of well-tended lawn, but there was no circular drive.
A flagstone walk bordered with some kind of low shrubs led to the
front door, and beyond it a wide concrete driveway went straight
back to the two-car garage adjoining the house on the far end.
Both doors of the garage were closed. That should mean she was
home.
It was hot now and I could feel perspiration beginning to break
out on my face. I went quickly up the walk. A colored man in a
straw hat was digging in the flower bed under the big picture
window in front. His shirt was plastered to his back with sweat.
Drapes were drawn across the window and I couldn t see in.
Remember, I told myself, you ve never seen her before in your life.
Sell her on it.
I rang the bell. The gardener straightened and brushed his wet
face with a hand, looking up at me.  You know if Mrs. Cannon s
home? I asked.
 Yassuh, I think so, he said. He went back to his work. I d just
started to reach for the bell again when the door opened. A young
The Big Bite  48
colored girl looked out at me indifferently. She was chewing gum
and held a broom in her left hand.
 Is Mrs. Cannon in? I asked.
 I ll find out, she said.  Who I say it is?
 Mr. Warren, I said, mumbling a little.
 Just a minute.
She disappeared, leaving the door ajar. It opened into a small
entry hall. There was a door at the left of that, going into the
living-room apparently, but I couldn t see much of it. I waited.
Maybe I shouldn t have said Warren, I thought. It might still sound
too much like Harlan. O Toole or Schutzbank or something would
have done better. But still it had to be within shooting distance; I
didn t want her to get the idea I was aware I might have to pitch
her a phony name to get in. That would ruin it all. Oh, hell, I
thought; it s been five months and she doesn t know I m within
two thousand miles.
The girl came back. Mrs. Cannon was in. I could wait in the
parlor. I followed her in through the entry hall and stood in the
living-room.  She ll be heah in a minute, she said, and went on
out through a door at the right rear, which seemed to lead into the
dining-room. As soon as she was gone, I looked swiftly around,
trying to get as good a picture of the layout as I could before Mrs.
Cannon got here.
Apparently there was no dog. That had been worrying me, but I
didn t see any signs of one. Certainly there wasn t one in the
house, or he d have been around to investigate by this time, and I
couldn t see any kennel in the patio behind the house. There was
another plate glass window at the rear of the living-room, fitted
with a gauzy drape which was closed now but was fairly
transparent with the bright sunlight behind it, The patio was
enclosed with a white-painted cinder block wall about four feet
high. Below it down the hillside was another wooded vacant lot.
Approaching the house from the rear would be a cinch. Getting in,
however, was going to be another matter.
I d noticed something when I first stepped into the entry hall,
but it hadn t actually registered until now. The house was air-
conditioned. I could feel the coolness penetrating my sweaty shirt.
It was fine after the sticky heat outside, but there was another
angle to it I didn t like at all. The doors and windows would be
tightly closed all the time it was turned on, so it wasn t going to be
merely a matter of unlatching a screen. It wasn t good. I glanced
swiftly around, studying the room.
The Big Bite  49
It was a long one. At the far end was a raised fireplace with a
copper hood. To the left of it was an open doorway which
apparently led into a study or library because I could see rows of
books along the wall and the front end of a mounted sailfish. At the
right was the hallway which went on through to the rest of the
house. Some chairs and a small sectional sofa were scattered [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]