by Jerry eBooks
As Benny put his handkerchief away, his eyes drifted over the park bench up on the knoll, fascinated. One of the paper-wrapped packages had been found right there, a leg. Matt Hurley, the park cop, had sworn no suspicious strangers had been in the park that day.
Benny leaned forward. The big shot had tossed his paper on the bench and was hailing a cab. Benny swooped, and grabbed the paper. He saw the package underneath it, snatched it up, and turned to give it back to the man. But the man was already in the cab. It moved away. Benny yelled, and stood there waving the package foolishly.
That was when he got the impact of the big shot’s glittering black eyes for the first time. The man was looking through the rear window of the taxi, the skin on his cheekbones drawn tight, his lips a white slash. His black eyes were like chips of hard coal behind which a fire blazed.
Benny couldn’t pull his gaze away from those hypnotic eyes until the man whipped around to the taxicab driver. Benny saw the driver shake his head and gestured at the streams of traffic on both sides. He couldn’t stop.
The eyes came back to Benny, burned through the window, burned into Benny’s scrawny little form, cataloguing every detail. Benny grabbed for his handkerchief. He was sniffling.
THE cab was lost in traffic, then.
Benny was left clutching the oblong package. He hefted it, licking his lips. There must be something pretty valuable in it. That’s why the black-eyed man had studied him; he wanted his package back.
It was heavier than it looked, pliable yet resistant. It was the size and shape of a roll of bologna. Benny couldn’t resist looking. He intended to stay right where he was, sure that the big shot would get out of the cab and hurry back here first chance. Just the same he couldn’t resist looking.
Benny pulled the string off one end, parted the paper. Then he stiffened and felt the hard seat of the park bench behind him catch his thighs, as his knees gave out. Every muscle in Benny’s skinny frame became a tight, twanging string. His hazel eyes glazed. His one look had told him he was holding one of those packages!
It was the bull voice of Matt Hurley, the park cop, that brought Benny awake. “Benny! Hey, you forgot your package!”
Benny skidded, shook his head, stopped. He saw that he was thirty feet from the bench where he’d found it. He’d been fleeing instinctively.
Hurley’s red-faced bulk plodded toward Benny. One massive, freckled paw shoved the package back into Benny’s hand. The other held the newspaper Hurley had picked up. He glared at the headlines.
“If I could just get my mitts on that guy!” Hurley burst out. “They say he’s a nut but I say different. He’s a guy we probably know, somebody right down in our neighborhood, somebody who hangs around the park, too. He could be anybody at all. He might even be you, Benny. He left one of those packages right here, under my nose. I’d just like to see him leave another one! What’s the matter, Benny? Sick?”
“Y-yeah!” Benny gurgled, his thin cheeks like ashes.
Hurley slapped Benny’s shoulder, “Better tell Doc Kunz to give you regular medicine, not any of that stuff he makes up himself. See you tomorrow, kid.”
Benny watched Hurley’s blue-coated back move off. He scuttled to a refuse can, caught himself. No! If the package were found here, Hurley surely would remember Benny had had one. For a second, Benny tried to get enough moisture into his mouth to yell after Hurley. Then he recalled Hurley’s words, He could be anybody, anybody at all. He might even be you, Benny.
Benny’s paper-thin soles slapped the sidewalk. He had to run. Hide. Get rid of it.
Yet he couldn’t get rid of it. He couldn’t drop it, throw it, not in this neighborhood. It was a magnet, sticking to him, sending its clammy coldness through the paper to paralyze his fingers. Benny fled to the only cover he could think of—his room.
He’d forgotten the black-eyed, black-mustached man. Suddenly he thought of him again, glanced back over his shoulder like a scrawny hound dog might glance at a can tied to his tail. Benny didn’t see the man. He decided the man wouldn’t be coming back after all. Why would anybody come back after this, if he’d once got rid of it?
But Benny was wrong. If he’d looked again, he’d have seen those black eyes hard on him, craftily waiting.
Benny took his usual route home. Six blocks from the park, he turned right, five blocks more, right again. Down an alley, past the warehouse—
That’s where Benny’s teeth chattered harder. Here, in this gloomy old building, was where Tessie’s torso had been found. There was a crowd around, though the homicide squad was gone.
“Hello, Benny,” said Doc Kunz. Benny jerked. The gaunt black shoestring of a doctor was at his elbow, slightly bleared blue eyes studying him professionally.
“What’s wrong, Benny?” Kunz asked. “Excitement too much for you?”
Benny’s lips worked. He almost blurted it out. He was reaching the point where he had to tell someone. “N-no! I’m okay, doc!” Benny blurted and ducked toward the sanctuary of his room.
“I’ll stop in and have a look at you after I see Mrs. Grady,” Kunz said.
“No! Don’t come near. I mean, okay, doc!”
BENNY ducked into the doorway of the tenement where he lived. He went up the first two flights fast, but on the third his chest began to hurt. He stopped, leaned against the narrow bannister, breathing jerkily at the musty, thick-hot air.
The black-eyed man was breathing rapidly, too. This sound was what sent Benny’s eyes skittering behind him.
A shriek tore at his vocal chords, never sounded. Benny couldn’t get it out. Then the black-eyed man was upon him, hand clamped over Benny’s mouth. The steel-strong fingers ground the bones of Benny’s jaw together, bruised Benny’s lips.
“Be quiet! Take me to your room. I’ll make you rich if you hold your tongue.” The man shook Benny a little, eyes glowing even in the shadows of the stairway. He took his hands away tentatively, grabbed Benny again. Benny would have melted onto the steps without support. The only thing with strength was his heart, thumping, thumping. He even dropped the package.
The black-eyed man scooped up the package, pushed Benny ahead. There was no sound from him. He might have slipped away, Benny thought, as he reeled up the last steps to his room, only he hadn’t. Benny could feel the man, back there. He could feel his eyes. Benny turned the knob of his door, tried to dive in and slam it.
The man was ready for him. He shoved Benny into the room, slammed the door himself, snicked the lock. Benny backed away from him, still unable to make more than little, squeaking sounds. He backed into the bed, fell on it.
Death reached for his throat. Benny saw the slender, strong fingers stretch and start for him. He saw the burning black eyes, the slashed lips under the black mustache. He scrounged back on the bed, hit the wall. He could go no farther. He felt his mouth opening, his tongue protruding, his eyes bulging even before the fingers touched him. He was choking himself, practically.
He felt his head get thick. Blackness swirled around him. Then those hands were on him. But they weren’t choking him. They were shaking him, jarring him back to consciousness. And the black-eyed man’s low voice was warning, “Quiet.” Benny saw why now. He heard the knocking on his door. He heard Doc Kunz’s voice insisting, “Let me in, Benny. I want to look at you.”
The black-eyed man caught Benny’s chin in his hand, turned Benny’s eyes up into his own. The whole strength of the man’s personality was in the onyx stare he centered on Benny. That stare held Benny transfixed, sucked the little strength out of him, bored in under his hide.
“Meet me in the park tonight at nine o’clock,” the man commanded softly. “I’ll be on the bench I sat on today. I’ll have money for you, a thousand dollars. That will be only the first payment. I’ll make you rich, understand?”
“Benny, let me in!” Doc Kunz roared. “Will you be there?” the black-eyed man hissed. “Do you want money?”
Benny heard a voice not at all like his own pant, “Ye
ah! Yeah, I’ll be there! Yeah, I want money! Yeah, yeah, yeah!” He realized vaguely that something stronger than himself had taken over, instinct. He was saying anything at all to gain respite, anything to get this blackeyed monster away.
The man hesitated, trying, it seemed, to peel back Benny’s skull and look inside it. Suddenly he grated his teeth like a man risking all on a long shot. “I’ll give you five thousand for the first payment!” he said harshly. “Nine o’clock. The park. Be there. No harm will come to you.”
The man looked about the room for another means of exit, scorned the fire escape window, strode to the door, unlocked it and pushed past Doc Kunz brazenly.
Kunz fell back in surprise. “I’ll be damned!” He turned to Benny as the man disappeared down the stairs. “How did you ever get him interested in your case, Benny?” Kunz demanded.
Benny croaked, “Him? Is he a d-d-doctor?”
“Why, he’s famous!” Kunz said. “Dr. Haswell Falik. He’s a psychiatrist. He—”
But Benny was blacking out now. The strain was over. The reaction set in . . .
WHEN Benny came to, there was a pleasant stupor in his limbs. He was in bed. Doc Kunz was bending over him. The doctor’s words came slowly, as from a great distance. He was questioning Benny. Benny answered with no trouble at all. He didn’t realize that the morphine Kunz had given him was responsible for his sense of ease and well being. He knew only that he was safe and sleepy. He told his story from beginning to end.
Benny heard Doc exclaim occasionally. He heard him mutter, too. But Benny didn’t pay much attention. Once, he looked up at Doc’s gaunt, cadaverous face, the lines of dissipation running from Doc’s nostrils to his lax lips, and thought vaguely that the doctor looked like a man who was smoking marijuana. The doc’s blue eyes weren’t a bit bleary now. The parchmentlike skin on his high cheekbones showed spots of color. His long arms flapped about him, the fingers twitching.
Benny heard the doc muttering, “Falik? The great Haswell Falik! The mind doctor gone the way of his patients. He’ll plead insanity, of course. The fool!” Benny saw the doc’s hollow eyes glow. Suddenly they were almost like those black eyes that could pin his heart to his ribs with just a look.
“He was going to take advantage of me!” Doc Kunz mumbled. Then he laughed loudly and long. He didn’t laugh at anything funny, though. He cackled. He took a bottle from his bag and drank deeply. Then he tramped from the room.
Benny let blissful drowsiness overcome him. He went to sleep, troubled only by the sudden wonder at how Dr. Falik could possibly have been going to take advantage of Doc Kunz. Kunz was a seedy slum doctor. Falik was a big-shot psychiatrist. Doc Kunz had recognized Falik, because Falik was famous. But Falik hadn’t even noticed Doc Kunz. So why or how could he take advantage of him?
When Benny awoke, Doc Kunz was beside him again. “Listen, Benny, I know everything. Everything, understand? You told it all while you were half-conscious. Don’t be afraid, Benny. You’ve got to help me catch Falik.”
Doc Kunz cackled at that and repeated, “Catch Falik! Ah, that’s good!”
Benny felt prickles between his shoulder blades, He shook his head groggily. The doc didn’t look like himself at all, didn’t sound like himself. Benny sat up, pulling the sheet around his thin chest.
“Look, Benny!” Doc Kunz shoved a newspaper onto Benny’s knees. “The arm you found in that package didn’t belong to Tessie Famette at all. It belonged to somebody else, another torso victim, Benny. Falik’s victim!”
Benny gazed at the newspaper, at a paragraph on an inside page which said, “Mr. and Mrs. Jason Devers today told the police that their daughter Jennifer, 22, has not been home for two days. Mr. Devers admitted that his daughter had been under the care of Dr. Haswell Falik, eminent psychiatrist. Dr. Falik insisted the girl was quite normal when she left his office, two days ago, but no trace of her can be found.”
Doc Kunz cackled, “Of course no trace of her was found. Falik killed her. Dissected her body, and started to get rid of it just like—Nevermind, that was the Devers’ girl’s arm you found, Benny, not Tessie Famette’s. Now tonight, Benny I want you to meet—”
“Falik?” Benny cried. “No! I won’t! I can’t! Doc, I’m too scared of him! He’ll get me, too!”
“No, he won’t Benny!” Doc said sharply. “Don’t worry. You’ll help catch him, that’s all.”
Benny shrank against his pillow. “No! I’m afraid. I’m going to tell the cops. I’m going to get Matt Hurley and—”
The doc chuckled, “I’ve already talked to Hurley, Benny! He’ll be right on hand, don’t think he won’t. He’s going to be in the park. When Falik tries to—”
“Tries to kill me!” Benny burst. “Is that it? You’re going to use me as bait!”
“Easy, now, Benny,” Doc soothed. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. Hurley won’t let anything happen. He’ll be right there. He’ll catch Falik red-handed. That’s what we want, don’t we? Benny, you want Falik caught, don’t you?”
Benny sniffled. “I don’t care! I’m scared! Once I look at his eyes, Doc, I—”
“Pshaw! Don’t look at them, then. You’re afraid Falik will hypnotize you? Nonsense!” Doc Kunz snorted. “I’m a doctor, too, Benny. Falik uses hypnotism, sure, but no one can hypnotize you if you resist them. They can’t do it with one look, either. Don’t be afraid of that, Benny. Hurley and I will be close. All you have to do is go with Falik, do what he wants you to do. He’ll lead us to the rest of the Devers girl’s body.”
“But, doc—”
“Now, Benny,” Doc Kunz frowned.
“You want to co-operate with the cops, don’t you? You don’t want Matt Hurley to think you’re protecting Falik?”
“No!”
“Good! That’s the stuff. Now, look. It’s only eight o’clock. Get your clothes on, but don’t leave here for about forty minutes. About a quarter to nine or a little earlier, go over to the park. Meet Falik and do everything he tells you. Got that?” Benny peered at Doc’s burning eyes, his gaunt, lined face. The doctor looked like a buzzard, like a leering old buzzard getting ready to pounce.
BENNY forced himself to nod. He understood all too well. He was bait. Doc said he and Matt Hurley would be nearby, but Benny chewed his lips and sniffled. Benny wouldn’t let tears come to his eyes while Doc was there, but when the black, stringy man left the room Benny hugged the sheet around himself tightly.
He fumbled with his clothing. It was hot and muggy, but he went to the closet and put on a blue turtleneck sweater that was slack around his toothpick neck.
He told himself he was okay. Hurley and Doc Kunz were on his side. He was already cleared so far as having had that package in his possession because Doc had told Hurley how it had happened. Hurley believed Doc. But would the big cop continue to believe Doc if Benny didn’t play his part tonight?
Benny trembled. He had to go through with it. If he didn’t show up, Hurley would figure Doc had been drunk and had spun a crazy story. Just the same, the cop would come back at Benny, drag him down to headquarters.
The minutes ticked away with maddening slowness, yet with haste, too. Benny couldn’t understand it; his old alarm clock dragged and hurried at the same time. Twenty minutes whispered by.
Another twenty.
“Suppose Falik comes here!” The words blurted out of Benny’s white lips, hung in the hot air in his tiny room, echoed off the walls. For two full minutes afterwards Benny was incapable of motion. The paroxysms of trembling shot down into his legs. He scampered for the door. He stopped, fingers on the knob, ears actually moving.
Someone was coming up the stairs. Benny’s nostrils quivered, but he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even sniffle.
The almost inaudible scrape of feet on the staircase were so light a mouse might be causing them. Only Benny knew it was no mouse. It was a human being, coming closer, coming toward the door, stopping outside, leaning his ear against the flimsy wood.
Ben
ny Kerr moved again as he had done when he’d fled from the park bench that afternoon, instinctively, without conscious volition. He ducked out the window and clambered down the fire escape. It wasn’t until he was in the alley behind the tenement building that he became conscious of his surroundings. It was black down there, a fearsome place to be caught.
Benny looked up, saw a shadow on the fire escape. He ran as he never had run before. At long last, the nervous energy found someplace to spend itself. Benny’s thin legs turned into driving pistons. The hard slap-slap of his feet was a tattoo on the cobbled alley. It was a sweet sound in Benny’s ears. For as energy surged through his limbs, he knew he was running as a champion sprinter. Nothing on two legs would catch him if he kept this up.
There was another thing, too. If Falik was chasing him, then Falik wasn’t in the park. Benny could run there and yell for Hurley and Doc. They’d jump out and pounce on Falik then, with no more laying traps. They’d grab the black-eyed man quick. Benny would see them with his own two eyes. He knew he’d never have nerve enough to enter his room again unless he did see Falik captured.
Benny passed the warehouse like a wraith. He went down an alley. Turn left. Left again.
Benny slackened a little, approached the park warily. Hurley and Doc Kunz would be hiding, somewhere, probably near the bench, where Benny was supposed to meet Falik. Benny’s eyes darted toward that bench. His senses reeled. Falik was there!
Benny couldn’t believe it, yet it was so. Falik was alone on the bench, waiting. Benny shook his head. Falik must have grabbed a taxi when he’d failed to catch Benny and hurried to the park. Benny wanted to cry. Now he’d have to go through with it after all.
He glanced fitfully about. If he could get just one glimpse of Matt Hurley’s bulk, he’d feel better. But Hurley was nowhere in sight. There were a couple of old men scattered about on the benches, some kids, but no Hurley.
“IT’S okay, Benny.” The voice came from nowhere. Benny jumped. It came again. “Don’t worry, Benny. I’m behind this tree.”