Rainbow's End by James M. Cain Page B

it to her—in appreciation for what she’s done. I suggested the idea to him, and he didn’t even let me finish. ‘She’s got it coming,’ he kept saying. ‘Oh, brother, has she.’ It’s hers if it’s ever found—and if it’s not found, she’ll still be nicely rewarded. That’s one thing about Mr. Morgan. He always does it big. So...that winds, it up, I think. Jill can’t very well be held for stealing money that’s already hers.”
    That got a blank stare.
    â€œWell?” he asked Knight.
    â€œShe’s not charged, Mr. York.”
    â€œOK—but now she can’t be.”
    â€œListen, anyone can be!”
    â€œEasy does it.”
    That was Bledsoe who always wanted to shade things a little bit, “so we don’t meet these issues head-on.”
    No one mentioned holding us, and Knight got up. “They should do the autopsy tomorrow,” he said, “so we’ll be holding the inquest Tuesday. All three of you—Mr. Howell, Mrs. Howell, and Miss Kreeger—will be called as witnesses, so please make yourselves available to testify.” He put on his coat and started for the door. “We ready?” asked York, turning to Jill.
    â€œI guess so,” she told him, half turning to me.
    â€œI’m taking her in,” I said, reaching under her knees, as I had quite a few times, putting the other arm around her and lifting her up.
    â€œWell?” she smiled at York. “I don’t really have much choice. I have to do what Dave says.”
    â€œAll right,” he said rather grumpily.
    Knight nodded to everyone, then went out the front door, got in his car, and drove off. “We’ll let you know,” said Edgren, and he and Mantle left. Bledsoe looked at his watch, gave Jill a little pat, nodded to Mom, and left. The nurse and York left. I turned to Mom and said: “Be back,” but whether she heard me or not, I didn’t know, as she didn’t look at me.
    I carried Jill to the door and she opened it. When we were out, she pushed it shut. I carried her to my car which was parked beside the house. I opened the door and helped her climb in.
    â€œWell?” she asked when we’d turned onto route 60, headed for town. “Was I all right?”
    â€œPerfect,” I answered. “I was relieved that you left out what was said in the dark, that stuff you thought meant that she meant Shaw should kill you. I don’t think she did, but—”
    â€œI don’t think it—I know it. Don’t you know why I left it out?”
    â€œAll right, why did you?”
    â€œIt was because of you. She’s your mother, and I—”
    â€œYes? You what?” I asked as she stopped suddenly.
    â€œDon’t you know?”
    â€œNo, I don’t.”
    â€œThen it’s not up to me to tell you.”
    â€œWho’s it up to, then?”
    She didn’t answer, but hooked her hand in my arm and whispered: “Are we getting somewhere together or not?”
    â€œSo far as I’m concerned, we are.”
    â€œThen a woman sticks by her guy whether she likes his mother or not. I couldn’t talk against her.”
    â€œJill, I love you.”
    â€œAnd I love you.”
    She leaned back, still hanging onto my arm.
    We got to the hospital which looks out on the Muskingum but which also commands a view of the Ohio. I parked the car, but when I reached in for her legs to lift her out, she motioned me off and climbed out of the car herself. She caught my arm, limping a little, but turned to the terrace above the river, took a few steps, and stood there looking at it. Then, chugging through the twilight, we heard an engine laboring. There was the top of a tow, moving up the Ohio, its red light shining at us. It’s always a beautiful sight. We stood hand-in-hand looking at it. Then suddenly, in a somewhat different manner, she asked me: “Dave, did