Ed Lacy - Strip For Violence Страница 10

“I can't understand how Will could...”

“Thelma, your Will is probably a good faithful guy but... there's always a point where any man can be tempted, and Margrita is that point. Doesn't mean he doesn't still love you but.... How long have you been married?”

“Nineteen years. Nineteen lovely.... Oh, Will!” Fat tears started down her face.

“Like everything else, a marriage can get stale, married people get used to each other; the excitement of sex wears thin and... Look at yourself, Thelma, and at Will, you're both sloppy and...”

She really turned on the tears. I quickly poured her another shot, which she gulped down, held her head in her hands and started to bawl.

My nerves were so raw the sound of her crying gave me a grating chill. I took a fast shot myself, had to do something to stop her tears. I put my arms around her, placed her head on my shoulder. “Thelma, forget Will. After all, you're a pretty woman, warm and exciting.”

“You're being nice... Hal. I used to be sort of good-looking. Now I'm too plump.”

“Nuts, you're beautiful. Not pretty the way a hard-faced chorus girl is, but full of charm.”

“Mr.—Hal, you really think so?”

“You bet,” I said, not entirely lying. “Will takes you too much for granted. A clown like myself, who hasn't a wife, can appreciate a home, all you do to make a man happy. Only it's wrong for a woman to devote her whole life to a man, fall for that lord and master pitch. She must think of her own right to happiness....”

Thelma stopped crying, was listening to me, her hand warm and moist on top of mine. I slipped her a corny line of sweet talk and she was very quiet. Either my words or the three slugs of whisky she'd had, were working on her.

“... You see, you've let Will be the big I-am in your life, forgot your own right to happiness.” I suddenly kissed her on the mouth. Her lips were surprisingly alive and exciting.

For a moment she pulled away, then her arms tightened around my neck. I held her close with one arm, kissing her, as my other hand was probing inside her robe, sliding around her hot back to her bra. She whispered, “Hal, this is so crazy! We mustn't—”

“It isn't crazy if we both want to.”

“But... it's wrong to... Oh, Hal!”

My hand was caressing her great breasts, ringing the hard nipples. Her head fell back against the couch as she gently pushed my hand away, but her eyes were soft and willing.

For a moment my whole idea nearly backfired—for some reason her plumpness, the pillowy-bosom, got me on fire and I nearly went through with things—but sex was really the last thing on my mind. I mean, I had enough troubles without latching on to more. With an effort I stood up. “There, see what I mean, Thelma? I'm no Margrita, but I am somebody new and... you're willing. So don't blame Will. You've both been taking each other too much for granted, the star-dust has worn off, the...”

The door opened down the hall and a second later Will came in. He looked a little crocked. One of his eyes was shut and turning purple, he had a couple of skin-bruises on his face, and his uniform was dirty. Thelma jumped up and as she did so part of her white bra hung out of her robe, like a flag at half-mast.

“What the hell's going on here?” Will thundered.

“Nothing.”

“You—you've been with that woman!” Thelma wailed.

“You're a fine one to talk! I find you undressed and this shrimp...!”

I stepped over to his towering bulk, snapped, “Shut up! You and Thelma can straighten this out later. We got a lot of talking to do.”

“We sure have! I demand an...”

“Can the self-righteous slop.” I buried my right in his belly. He grunted, bent double as he slipped to the floor. Thelma ran over, knelt beside him, bawled, “You little thug! What are you doing to my Will?”

Trying to convince him the time for games is over. Yesterday you came into my office, handed me a cock-and-bull yarn about being 'curious' about a rock. I'm a peaceful guy, love the quiet, easy life... but since you've brought that rock to me, I've been punched and blackjacked, my office has become a shambles, my secretary has been murdered...”

Will stared up at me, his one good eye wide with fear. “That girl in the papers—thought I recognized her!”

“And she got it the hard way, beaten to death. Now stop the bunk and tell me the truth about this damn rock!”

“Will, tell him... tell him everything!” Thelma pleaded.

He got to his big feet, helped Thelma up, said in an offhand voice, “Fix yourself up, Thelma. Your... is loose.” He pointed to her bra. She gasped, ran out of the room.

“That little girl... dead,” Will whispered. “See, I never thought anything like that would come....”

“What about the rock?” I asked, shaking him.

“See, it was like I said, came through the window and all that. Only, when it hit the copper vase it split. Mean, what I gave you was only a sliver. The rock was about a half inch long, maybe a quarter of an inch thick. I kept the big piece, only now I ain't got it... they robbed me.”

“Who did?”

“Two big guys.” He lowered his voice to a whisper again. “See, I was up at this Margrita's apartment, had some drinks, she was... nice to me. Then suddenly she gets cold, gives me the gate. When I step outside, two guys jump me, knock me cold. When I came to, the rock is gone. Had it sewn in here.” He held up a torn part of his gray mailman's coat. “And it was worth ten grand. See, that's why I came to you, find out where it came from, if it was mine, if I could sell it and...”

“Take it slow. This little hunk of stone was worth ten grand?”

He nodded. “About a week after it hit this room, I got curious, took it to a jeweler on my route. He said he never saw one so big. Comes from Brazil, what they call a carbonado.”

“What the hell you talking about? What is a... carbonado?”

“It's a diamond, see?”

BOOK THREE

I

I sat or fell down on the nearest chair. Will sprawled on the couch, called out, “Thelma, bring some tea.” Then he saw the bottle, took a good hooker.

“Are you telling me a diamond...?”

“An industrial diamond, the jeweler called it.”

“... an industrial diamond worth ten thousand bucks came tearing into your living-room... just like that?” I asked.

“That's the truth, Hal.”

I ran over and grabbed him by the collar. “Stop handing me fairy tales! I want the truth, the...”

“I swear it!” Will gasped.

“Let him alone, what he said is the truth, all we know.” I turned and saw Thelma standing in the doorway. She sat down beside Will, opened his collar, stroked his face, said, “Tea is on, dear.” He buried his face in her hands, mumbled something, and began to sob.

I stood there, staring at the two of them with my mouth open. I knew they were telling me the truth, yet it didn't add up... made less sense than before.

“Look at your face, Will,” Thelma said, “how will you go to work tomorrow?”

“I'd better call up sick. I am sick, too, Thelma, a sick, frightened fool!”

“Aw, Will, you...”

I said, “Thelma, pack a bag—right now. Got any place in the country you two can go for a few days?”

“My sister has a cottage in Lakewood.”

“Can't stay away for a few days,” Will said. “Even if I called up sick, they might send an inspector around and if I wasn't home, lose my job....”

“You can both lose your lives if you don't get out of here! Get this through your dome, we're playing in the big leagues now. At the moment I may not know my can from a base on balls, but I'll find out. Meantime, we're dealing with a killer, and through chance you seem to be involved with him up to your ears. Thelma, get dressed, pack that bag!”

“But I have an icebox full of food...?” she said, thinking aloud.

“Stay here and it will be eaten at your wake!”

She fled to the bedroom. I heard her drag out a suitcase. Will said, “This all sounds like a bum movie, unreal....”

“Anita's body was damn real!”

“That poor child. But they have the stone now, they'll leave me alone.”

“How do you know? How do we know what the stone means? They slugged me, took the sliver, but that didn't stop them from giving me another going over, asking about money.... Will, you involved in any kind of mail fraud, a swindle with dough?”

He said indignantly, “I wouldn't tamper with a postal card! Twenty years I been a carrier, see, never lost a letter, or got a demerit for...”

“Skip it. Haul your ass to Lakewood, don't write or phone anybody. Don't come back till I write you there— care of general delivery.”

“What will we tell Thelma's sister?”

“Tell her you two are taking a second honeymoon—you can use one.”

“Say, what about you and Thelma? I saw...”

“Stop it, you've got nothing to worry about Call the P.O. and get going.”

He phoned the night clerk at the post office, said he had a strained ankle, then we went down—after Thelma came rushing back to water some damn plants—and I drove around the block slowly, didn't see anybody watching the house. Will had an old Chewy and I followed them down the West Side Highway. We were the only two cars for miles.

At the yacht basin I honked my horn, turned off for the parking lot. As I drove in I saw a couple of large characters leaning against a big Caddy and smoking cigarettes. They looked like goons. Maybe I was jittery, but I turned around and sped out.

They didn't follow me, but at the moment I was too tired to get into any more rough-and-tumble acts. And I didn't want my boat wrecked. I headed for a Times Square hotel, then got a better idea and started uptown. There was a little traffic on Broadway but I couldn't make out anybody tailing me. I cut over to Amsterdam Avenue, raced up to Louise's place.

It was after 4 a.m. and I had to ring the bell several times to get her up. When I gave her my name she opened the door a crack, then all the way, sleep vanishing from her eyes, as she said, “Hal, what a wonderful surprise!”

I kissed her, feeling her warm body through the flimsy nightgown. There was a faint odor of whisky on her lips, her eye was still dark, but she'd washed the phony eyebrows off, making her look older. “I'm so glad you came back,” she whispered. “Why didn't you call? I've been waiting for...”

I closed her mouth with a kiss. “Sorry, honey, but I've been busy, busy. I'm dead tired.” I snapped off the lights, locked the door carefully, undressed in the dark. I still had jerko's Luger in my pocket. I slipped it under the pillow as her arms pulled me onto her naked waiting body.

It seemed a second later when she was shaking me, saying, “Darling, it's six, I have to get up.”

“Can't you take the day off?” I asked, my voice lazy with sleep. The hard early light made her room look drab, mean... the harsh meanness of living on the edge of poverty.

“Let's not start that argument again. I'd make you a whopping big breakfast, except I'm out of coffee.”

“Get you some,” I said, hating to leave that soft bed. I threw back the sheet and the thin blanket into a messy bundle at the foot of the bed, got up. With two hours' sleep I felt much better. “We'll eat, then I'll drive you downtown.”

She smiled at me oddly. “Too late now. Tried to wake you at five-thirty, but couldn't get you up.”

I kissed her, not quite understanding what she was saying. She stroked my face, asked, “Hal, you're not sorry you came back?”

“What you talking about?”

“I don't know, that first time was so great... I don't want it spoiled.”

“Stop it Nobody bats a 1.000 all the time, so...”

“Then it wasn't so good this time!” she said with a hurt cry.

“Honey, I came in here in the middle of the night dead tired. Sure, I'd like to sleep the rest of the day, waking now and then to find you beside me but.... What the hell are we talking about?” I kissed her again and shuffled off to the bathroom.

Her underthings were hanging on the towel racks and the bathroom stunk of stale washing smells. I stuck my head and shoulders under the cold shower, got wide awake. I knew what she meant—in time this crummy joint could take the romantic veneer off anything. There wasn't any towel in sight, so I dried myself with one of her slips.

When I opened the door, Louise rushed by me, giggling: she was in a good mood again. Dressing, I stuck the Luger in my belt, called out, “Be back in a few minutes.”

“There's a delicatessen down on Amsterdam that should be open. I'll be dressed by the time you return....” Her voice was lost in the sound of the shower.

I found the delicatessen, bought a couple pounds of coffee, cream, bread, and coffee cake. As an added thought, I asked for half a dozen cans of frozen orange juice and the sleepy-looking counter man said, “You're my first customer of the day. The others should buy an order like this.”

“Yeah, I'm the early bird, or the worm, or something,” I said, picking up the big bag of groceries. It was going to be a clear, sunny day. I felt rested, ready to step.

I sprinted up the stairs to Louise's apartment, pushed the door open and put the bag on the table. She was still in the shower. I got a drink of water, said, “Come on, thought you were in such a big hurry, baby?”

She didn't hear me over the sound of the water. I took the stuff out of the bag, put the cream and juice in her little icebox. “You'll be late—might as well take the day off,” I said, pushing the bathroom door open.

The shower was running but the bathroom was empty. I stepped back into the room, snapped on the fight There were wet tracks on the floor, leading to the door.... But Louise would hardly leave the shower and go visiting a neighbor... even to borrow a towel. Of course she....

I glanced at the bed and there in the bundle of sheets and blanket I saw it—the two red splotches: one was the awful red of her dyed hair and a little farther down the sheet was the very bright red of blood.

I ran over to the bed and pulled the sheet away from her. Her body was still wet and there was a terrible look of fear on her face... and her throat was sliced from ear to ear—one long slit.

For a long moment I stood there, dazed. Still in a trance, I walked over to the bathroom, shut off the shower. It didn't matter, my fingerprints were all over the place. The delicatessen man would remember me and my big order. And Louise's boyfriend would be overanxious to tell the cops about me. All I could think of was one thing—I didn't want the cops to pick me up now—not till I settled two scores with some murdering bastard!

I followed the wet footsteps to the door—vaguely thinking it had all happened so recently the water hadn't even dried. Hell, I hadn't been out of the apartment more than ten minutes. Somebody had knocked, rung the bell, and Louise—thinking it was me—had left the tub and opened the door to her murderer....

The ringing of the phone cut the chilling silence of the room. I knew who it would be before lifting the receiver. The goddamn mocking voice, speaking through crumpled paper or something, asked, “Well, wiseguy, ready to play it smart?”