Double Indemnity - James M. Cain [9]
"I've pretty well given that idea up."
"Well then, why don't we fix this thing up right now? I've pretty well outlined what we do for you—"
"I guess we might as well."
"Then if you'll sign these applications, you'll be protected until the new policies are issued, which will be in about a week, but there's no use your paying for a whole week's extra insurance. There's for the collision, fire, and theft, there's for the public liability—and if you don't mind sticking your name on these two, they're the agent's copies, and I keep them for my files."
"Here?"
"Right on the dotted line."
He was a big, blocky man, about my size, with glasses, and I played him exactly the way I figured to. As soon as I had the applications, I switched to accident insurance. He didn't seem much interested, so I made it pretty stiff. Phyllis cut in that the very idea of accident insurance made her shiver, and I kept on going. I didn't quit till I had hammered in every reason for taking out accident insurance that any agent ever thought of, and maybe a couple of reasons that no agent ever had thought of. He sat there drumming with his fingers on the arms of his chair, wishing I would go.
But what bothered me wasn't that. It was the witness that Phyllis brought out. I thought she would have some friend of the family in to dinner, maybe a woman, and just let her stay with us, there in the sitting room, after I showed up around seven-thirty. She didn't. She brought the stepdaughter in, a pretty girl, named Lola. Lola wanted to go, but Phyllis said she had to get the wool wound for a sweater she was knitting, and kept her there, winding it. I had to tie her in, with a gag now and then, to make sure she would remember what we were talking about, but the more I looked at her the less I liked it. Having to sit with her there, knowing all the time what we were going to do to her father, was one of the things I hadn't bargained for.
And next thing I knew, when I got up to go, I had let myself in for hauling her down to the boulevard, so she could go to a picture show. Her father had to go out again that night, and he was using the car, and that meant that unless I hauled her she would have to go down by bus. I didn't want to haul her. I didn't want to have anything to do with her. But when he kind of turned to me there was nothing I could do but offer, and she ran and got her hat and coat, and in a minute or two there we were, rolling down the hill.
"Mr. Huff?"
"Yes?"
"I'm not going to a picture show."
"No?"
"I'm meeting somebody. At the drugstore."
"Oh."
"Would you haul us both down?"
"Oh—sure."
"You won't mind?"
"No, not a bit."
"And you won't tell on me? There are reasons why I don't want them to know. At home."
"No, of course not."
We stopped at the drugstore, and she jumped out and in a minute came back with a young guy, with an Italian-looking face, pretty good-looking, that had been standing around outside. "Mr. Huff, this is Mr. Sachetti."
"How are you, Mr. Sachetti. Get in."
They got in, and kind of grinned at each other, and we rolled down Beachwood to the boulevard. "Where do you want me to set you down?"
"Oh, anywhere."
"Hollywood and Vine all right?"
"Swell."
I set them down there, and after she got out, she reached out her hand, and took mine, and thanked me, her eyes shining like stars. "It was darling of you to take us. Lean close, I'll tell you a secret."
"Yes?"
"If you hadn't taken us we'd have had to walk."
"How are you going to get back?"
"Walk."
"You want some money?"
"No, my father would kill me. I spent all my week's money. No, but thanks. And remember—don't tell on me."
"Hurry, you'll miss your light."
I drove home. Phyllis got there in about a half hour. She was humming a song out of a Nelson Eddy picture. "Did you like my sweater?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Isn't it a lovely color? I never wore old rose before. I think it's going to be really becoming to me."
"It's going to look all right."
"Where did you leave Lola?"
"On the boulevard."
"Where