The Criminal by Jim Thompson Page B

may-Bobbie! D-Don't …"

6
    DONALD SKYSMITH
    That was the morning after the Star's quarterly report came out, and it had been a honey. Circulation up thirty thousand over the previous quarter, advertising up forty three thousand lines. With a report like that under my belt, it was just about the last morning in the world I expected an ass-eating from the Captain. But he was already on the phone when I hit the office, and it wasn't to hand me a bouquet.
    He kept on talking to the operator after I picked up the receiver and said hello.
    "Now you're quite sure of that, miss," he was saying. "You're positive we still have a managing editor? Mr. Skysmith is still with us?"
    "Yes, sir," she giggled. "H-He's-tee, hee-he's on the wire now, sir."
    The stupid, silly bitch! Boy, maybe she thought that was an ass in her girdle, but she'd find out. It was pure mud from now on and I'd make her know it.
    "You're positive," the Captain said. "It isn't someone posing as Mr. Skysmith? He has all the proper credentials?"
    "No, sir. I mean, yes, sir. He's-hee, hee, hee…"
    The goddamned rotten stinking little bitch! Laughing at me because I was getting the razz and thinking she could get away with it. Thinking, by God, I'd take it from every goddamned pissant in the plant just because I had to take it from that goddamned dried-up, bastardly, son-of-a-bitching old Fascist.
    I made a fast shuffle through the clips on my desk, those from the opposition papers and those from ours. I couldn't see where we'd missed a thing. We had everything the opposition had, and we had it better and more of it.
    "Well," the Captain said, "as long as you're positive, miss. Don, how are you this fine morning?"
    How was I? How the hell would I be? "Fine, sir," I said, as the operator went off the wire. "How are you, Captain?"
    "Wonderful," he said. "I tell you, Don, there's nothing like this mountain air. You'll have to come up some time."
    "Thank you, sir," I said. "I'd like that very much." And I closed my eyes, thinking, oh, you son-of-a-bitch, you don't know just how much I'd like to .
    I could picture myself up there in that castle, creeping into his room with its big twelve-by-twelve bed. It would be loaded down with teletype flimsies and probably if you dug deep enough you'd turn up every whore west of the Mississippi. But to hell with them. I'd burn them all up together. I'd say, "I got something hot for you, Captain," and then out with the good old gasoline and a handful of matches, and-
    "Don," he said. "I've been very much worried about Teddy. How is she getting along?"
    "Wha-" I squeezed my eyes open, and unclenched my teeth. "Why, all right, I hope, Captain. The doctors aren't very committal, but they believe the malignancy was confined to the left breast. It's largely a matter, now, of wait and see."
    "Terrible." He clicked his tongue. "So young, so beautiful. A terrible, terrible thing."
    You bastard! Oh, you son-of-a-bitch!
    "Yes, sir," I said. "She's suffered a great deal."
    "Terrible," he repeated. "I think those things are always so much harder when one has young children."
    Whoremonger, filth-eater! Go on and turn the screws. Tickle that floozie. But one of these days, powie! A five-alarm fire …
    "Well," he went on, "I suppose the situation could be worse. At least you have the satisfaction of knowing you're doing everything possible. The very best doctors and surgeons, the finest care without stint. That's something to be grateful for, isn't it, Don?"
    "Yes, sir," I said. "Teddy and I are very grateful, Captain."
    "A lovely girl, Don. Fine and uncomplaining and courageous. The children would be lost without her."
    Monster, bastard, inhuman son-of-a-bitch. Keep it up! I'll reach right through the phone and grab you!
    "Let's see, what are you making now, Don? Twenty-five thousand, isn't it?"
    "Twenty-two fifty."
    "Not enough," he said. "Oh, that's not nearly enough, Don. Why, if I had someone like Teddy to work for- someone who depended on me