Well Now My Pretty

He regarded her, a little worried, a little puzzled.

"I will show, you how to do it. It is better and safer for the gun to remain unloaded."

"Then it would be useless. Load it!"

He slid the cartridges into the clip and then inserted the clip into the gun, pressing home the spring. Then he put on the safety catch.

"You will be careful . . . accidents can happen." He paused, looking at her slyly, then went on. "You haven't bought this gun from me, Mrs. Whiteside. That is understood? By rights, I shouldn't be selling guns."

"Yes, I understand." She took the gun from him with four extra cartridges and put them into her bag. Then she gave him one of the $500 bills she had transferred from her stocking top to her bag during the bus ride down town.

He regarded the bill, his eyebrows crawling to the top of his forehead. She watched him, feeling tense and a little frightened.

"I will give you change. So Mr. Whiteside is having some success . . . I am so pleased."

"He sold three cars recently. About time . . ." She relaxed and followed him into the shop.

"Well, success finally comes. We all have to work for it . . . some are luckier than others." He gave her three one-hundred-dollar bills. "You should get a permit for the gun. I expect you know that. The police . . ." He waved his hand.

"I know . . . I'll see about it. Thank you, Mr. Jacobs."

Out on the street, she stood hesitating, then she turned and walked briskly to the main street. She walked into the Plaza Hotel and into the Ladies' room. Here, she locked herself in a toilet, took the gun from her bag and, lifting her skirt, she pushed the gun down the front of her girdle. The touch of the cold steel made her shiver. She lowered her skirt, smoothed the cloth over the slight bulge, then, taking from her bag the extra cartridges, she lifted the flush lid and dropped them into the water. Then she left the toilet and the hotel.

She walked down the street, feeling the gun chafing against her skin. At the end of the street was a taxi rank. She headed towards it, then suddenly paused. She was right opposite Ashton's, the jewellers, and there was that gold watch beckoning to her. She hesitated for a long moment, then the thought of owning it overwhelmed her. She walked into the shop.

"Good morning, madame." The man behind the counter was tall, elderly and very refined. "Why, of course, it is Mrs. Whiteside. Your husband sold me a car last year. How is he?" As she stared blankly at him, he smiled, revealing plastic teeth. "I am Harold Marshall, Mrs. Whiteside. Your husband may have mentioned me."

This crummy town! Sheila thought. Like living in a fish bowl! She gave him a dazzling smile.

"Yes, of course. Mr. Marshall, it is our wedding anniversary next week. My husband wants me to have that gold watch . . . the one in the window."

"Now which one would that be?" Marshall said, going to the window and opening the grille.

She joined him and pointed.

"That one."

"Oh yes . . . it's quite the nicest design we have." He lifted the watch from its black-velvet bed. "It would make a splendid anniversary present. This is your first, I believe."

She wasn't listening, her eyes were on the watch.

"Let us try it on, Mrs. Whiteside."

She shivered as she felt the gold band grip her flesh. At last! Something she had longed for and dreamed about for months . . . now it was actually on her wrist!

"I'll take it."

He was slightly startled. She hadn't even asked the price! From what he had heard from the local gossip the Whitesides were always in debt.

"You couldn't do better, Mrs. Whiteside. I have a box."

"No, thank you. I'll wear it." She couldn't bear to be parted from the watch now she had it on.

"Of course. It is a self-winder. You will have no trouble, but if it gains a little bring it back. It will only need a small adjustment. You'll be happy with this for the rest of your life."

"I'm sure." She paused, staring fascinated at the watch, then, seeing he was becoming a little restless, she asked, "How much is it?"

He relaxed.

"One hundred and eighty dollars."

Well, she thought, I'm certainly spending money, and why not? Don't I own two and a half million dollars, but as she gave Marshall the second $500 bill, she thought of the little man waiting for her in the bungalow.

Then she became aware that Marshall was regarding the bill doubtfully.

"My husband made a killing at the Casino," she said hurriedly. "The first time he has ever won. Talk about luck! Two thousand dollars!"

Marshall smiled.

"Yes, indeed. You know, Mrs. Whiteside, although I admit I have often tried, I have never won a dollar at the Casino. I am very happy to hear Mr. Whiteside has been so fortunate."

"Yes."

He gave her change.

"Are you sure you don't want the box?"

"No, thank you . . . and thanks."