A Bullet for Cinderella JOHN D. MACDONALD A FAWCETT GOLD MEDAL BOOK Fawcett Publications, Inc., Greenwich, Conn. Member of American Book Publishers Council, Inc. All characters in this book are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Copyright 1955 by John D. MacDonald All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof. Printed in the United States of America [Transcriber's Note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] CAME THE DARK.... They lay on their sides, facing each other. In the half-light of the cave he could see the sheen of her eyes, the slow curve of her waist. "So we wait," she said. "And we'll have to be very careful," he answered. "He likes the night. He even likes us right now, waiting for us to come out, to give him the pleasure of killing us. Killing ... that's really his only pleasure." She rolled onto her back. Her voice was soft. "We're going to make it," she said. "We've got the money, and we'll get the car and then there's Buenos Aires, Paris and...." They were quiet for a while until suddenly he heard her breath begin to quicken. She turned toward him and he pulled her close. There was time.... ONE A steady April rain was soaking the earth. It hadn't been bad to drive through until dusk came. In the half-light it was hard to see the road. The rain was heavy enough to reflect my headlights back against the wind-shield. My mileage on the speedometer told me I couldn't be very far from Hillston. When I saw the motel sign ahead on the right I slowed down. It looked fairly new. I turned in. The parking area was paved with those round brown pebbles that crunch under the tires. I parked as close to the office as I could get and ran from the car into the office. A woman with the bright cold eyes and thin sharp movements of a water bird rented me a room far back from the highway sound. She said the place was just four miles from the Hillston city limits. Once I saw the room I decided that it would do. It would be a good place to stay while I did what had to be done in Hillston. I stretched out on the bed and wondered if I had been smart to use my right name on the motel register. But if I could find the money, there would be no one to say that I was the one who had taken it. And using my right name wouldn't make any difference at all.