By Jim Thompson
Occasionally a guy and lady love and hate one another in equivalent degree that they could neither remain jointly nor holiday aside. a few marriages can simply result in homicide and a few murders simply make the binds of affection and hatred greater. This booklet proves simply that.
First released 1949
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Joe Wilmot is a soft operator. He runs the image apartment in Stoneville and he understands tips to take care of each person, from the motion picture vendors and the union representatives to his projectionist and the punters. but if it involves dealing with his spouse, his mistress and a bogus assurance declare, it seems he isn't fairly as shrewdpermanent as he concept. An uncompromising and terrifying imaginative and prescient of small-town corruption and the romantic triangle from the writer of the hardest crime novels ever.
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Example text
That’s why they’d offered him two guns, and the important gun wasn’t the one he’d chosen, it was the one he’d touched and rejected. Well, that really iced the cupcake. All they had to do was pick him up—for anything at all, really—and he was finished. They’d match his prints to the prints on the Glock, and what could he possibly say? I touched the gun, but I went for the revolver instead, because automatics tend to jam, although this one evidently didn’t. And I didn’t want to shoot a governor with it, just some mope weeding his lawn, and I never did shoot anybody, so what difference does it make?
But if this worked, he’d have some breathing room. They’d find the car, with his rental papers in the glove box. They’d find the smashed-up phone, and they’d probably get a print off the pizza box, and what conclusion would they draw? That he’d switched cars? That he’d switched plates and kept the same old car? No, they’d almost certainly assume that he’d come to the airport because it was in fact an airport, with the intention of getting on a plane. And they’d have a tough time establishing unequivo- Hit and Run ■ 49 cally that he hadn’t somehow managed to slip through Security and do just that.
He stared at the phone as he might have stared at a talking dog. It was Dot, it could only be Dot. Nobody else had his cell number, and who else would have repeated the message and inserted damn the second time around? But how had Dot managed to turn herself into a robot? Then he remembered. A neat trick she’d discovered in one of the applications she ran on her computer. You highlighted a piece of text, pressed something or other, and the computer read the words aloud in a voice all its own.