Soft Touch (1958)

Cover Soft Touch
After I put the station wagon in the garage, I ran hers in.
    I went into the kitchen. She could be in the house or she could be somewhere in the neighborhood acquiring her evening edge. There was no point in yelling. If she didn't feel like answering, she wouldn't answer. And say later she hadn't heard a thing.
    A man should like to come home at night. It had been a long time since I had looked forward to coming home. And this was the worst day of all. For the eight childless years I have
... been married to her, I have worked for her father, E. J. Malton of the E. J. Malton Construction Company—a little white-skinned man with a face like a trout and a voice like a French horn—one of those completely terrifying little men who combine arrogant stupidity with a devout conviction of their own infallibility.
    I didn't know then that this was the night Vince Biskay was going to show up out of the past, a tiger in the night, a tiger coming to call, offering the silky temptation of big violent money.
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