Rape Machine

by Randi Masters

  Clark obliged, fastening his mouth on one of Norma's nipples, kissing, sucking.

  Norma sighed, the sigh turning to words, "I have an idea! Peggy, while he's sucking one of my tits, you suck the other!"

  To Clark's surprise, Peggy knelt before the sofa, her head only inches from his while she fastened her red mouth on Norma's other nipple.

  "Both of you feel my pussy at the same time!"

  Having a helluva good time, giving orders, aren't you? he thought, but felt a new burst of excitement when he felt Peggy's slender hand brush against his own hand, felt her fingers occasionally touching his fingers as they both felt Norma's cunt, their forefingers side by side as they slipped in and out Norma's wet hole and then side by side as they both rubbed Norma's quivering clitoris. "Oh, Gawd!" Norma exclaimed. "I can't stand it!" She rose suddenly, tearing her body away from the pressure of mouths and fingers, began undressing. Peggy rose and stepped back from the couch. He removed his clothes and when they were both naked, Norma said, "Let's fuck dog-style!" She crawled onto the couch, kneeling there, waiting.

  Clark crawled onto the couch behind her, inching his stiff cock toward her cunt. After he pressed the knob in her slippery cunt lips, he looked up at Peggy and continued looking at her as he shoved all the way into Norma's cunt, feeling the roundness of her buttocks against his stomach. He began to fuck. Peggy watched with wide eyes. "Get closer!" Norma shouted. "Watch all of it!"

  Peggy knelt beside the couch and Clark began to fuck faster when the girl's face was only inches from his thrusting cock. "Feel me while he fucks me!"

  Norma shouted, her voice gurgled with her excitement, her buttocks heaving lustfully.

  Clark watched as the girl's slender hands moved to Norma's cunt and caressed. Occasionally her fingers brushed against the sliding length of his cock and he fucked faster and faster, spurting his come into Norma's pulsating cunt.

  * * *

  At the door of apartment 4C on the fourth floor, a woman in a stained housecoat informed them that George Schrader didn't live there. "Ask the landlady, Mrs. Lofland, on the first floor," she said. "Maybe she knows where he went."

  After Sid and Clark knocked on the door of the first floor apartment, after Sid had shown his identification and explained they were trying to find George Schrader, Mrs. Lofland said, "George died half a year ago."

  Clark grunted. He'd expected George Schrader would be the man they were seeking. At various times, up and down the flight of stairs in the apartment building, he had touched the .22 in his pocket. He had promised himself he would shoot the man as soon as Sid and he were certain he was the rapist. He glanced at Sid.

  The detective appeared unconcerned. He said, "Thank you, Mrs. Lofland. Sorry to bother you."

  Mrs. Lofland closed the door and went to the window to look out at the two men as they got into the car. "Delaware license plates," she muttered half to her husband on the couch, half to herself. "I wonder what that was all about ...?"

  "Policemen?" her husband asked. It was a hot day and he had taken off his shirt and undershirt. He scratched his hairy chest.

  "Looking for George. Did you hear me tell them he died half a year ago? I wanted to tell them they should be looking for that horrible Pawelski.

  Remember ... he had the apartment next to George's ? I don't know why George was so friendly with him ... always talking with him ... always drinking beer together ... "

  She went to the chair and sat so she faced her husband. She said: "Did George ever say anything about all those books on hypnotism?"

  "No."

  "Why should a man buy so many books about hypnotism? I always liked George but when Mary told me about those books, it almost made me afraid to talk to him ... afraid he'd hypnotize me.

  "I saw a hypnotist on the Ed Sullivan show once," her husband said sleepily.

  "Made a man get down on his hands and knees and bark like a dog. I never could understand why those books bothered you. Why should George make you get down on your hands and knees and bark like a dog?"

  Mrs. Lofland ran the tip of her tongue over her lips and studied her husband speculatively, wondering if she should say some of the strange thoughts in her mind ó deciding she wouldn't because her husband would scoff. She pulled the handkerchief from her skirt pocket and blew her nose.

  "Poor George ... he was such a nice man. And had such a nice job. They say he was an expert on that sub ... sub ... "

  "Subliminal TV," her husband said.

  "I could never understand that. Do you think that sub ... sub ... "

  "Subliminal."

  " ... Could make a person actually go out and buy a tube of toothpaste or whatever it was they were advertising?" She waited and when there was no response from her husband, answered her own question, "I don't see how something like that could make you buy something if you couldn't see it.

  They say you couldn't see that sub ... subliminal advertising."

  She went into the kitchen to get a glass of water, returned to her chair.

  She rocked slowly in the chair and the creaking sound of the rockers was the only sound in the room until she continued, "I tried to tell them George never took sleeping pills. He told me that once when I told him how much trouble I had sleeping and had to take a pill every night. How could he die from an overdose of sleeping pills if he wasn't in the habit of taking sleeping pills? If you ask me, I think that horrible Pawelski made him take those pills."

  She rocked some more and went on: "I told them that horrible Pawelski took George's portable TV. I saw him carrying it down the hall. But ... they didn't seem concerned at all." Her lips compressed with memory of how the policeman had remained so indifferent when she told him about the stolen TV after George's body was found. "George spent a lot of time working on that TV. Mary knew. She cleaned his room every week and she said he was always working on it ... worked on it for months. Do you think he put a sub ... subliminal in that portable TV?"

  When her husband did not answer, she said, "I don't see why? Why should George put a subliminal in a portable TV to make people buy toothpaste and things like that?"

  She realized her husband was asleep. She closed her eyes and her thoughts drifted to Mary. Poor sweet little Mary. Such a shy and pretty girl. Cleaned all the apartments better than anyone they ever had before or since. It had certainly been a shock when Mary became pregnant.

  On the outskirts of Harrisburg, Sid said, "See what police work is? A lot of footwork, dull routines, dead ends everywhere."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  As Sid reached his desk, the phone rang.

  "Lieutenant Weinman."

  "Sid, this is Frank Nash at the state hospital. We finished questioning the Kessler girl. It was quite a job but me managed to get some answers. Ready to write them down "

  Sid hooked a foot around the leg of his chair, rolled it away from his desk, and dropped in it while he grabbed his pen and notebook. "Shoot."

  "Debbie Kessler was raped by an expert hypnotist. For the record, he also raped one of her friends at the tennis courts, a girl named Judy. The man was driving a Ford. The Kessler girl described him as ugly ... short ... fat. The same height as herself ... which would be about five feet, five inches. Her guess on his weight is a hundred and eighty pounds. Black hair, dark eyes. A round nose. Scars on his face. Get all that?"

  "Got it."

  "I asked the Kessler girl if she knew what make of car the man was driving and she said it was a Ford 'just like Elmer's.' So ... perhaps you can find out from her parents who this Elmer is and then find out the style and year of car."

  "Right."

  "That's about all we have for you. This girl was definitely hypnotized and he must be an expert hypnotist ... judging from the way we had to dig so deep. From what the girl said, he apparently has a trick of carrying a portable TV and getting his victims to look at it to distract them while he hypnotizes them."

  "The TV ties in. A kid ne
ar the tennis courts saw a man with a TV."

  "Good."

  "That all?"

  "That's all we have to offer. I won't hold you long ... I know you have work to do. But I just heard on the news they found Katherine Elsinger's body. Do you think it might be the same man?"

  "I don't know. I was in Harrisburg checking a lead. I haven't had time to check on the Elsinger case."

  "When you catch the man, bring him here to the state hospital. He must be criminally insane. We'll have him committed until the trial. As you know, we have a special ward for the criminally insane. We can give him some special treatment."

  Sid felt a chill at the tone of voice when he said special treatment. He said, "Okay. Thanks." He hung up the phone, glanced at Clark standing before his desk. "And sometimes you turn a corner and there it is right in front of you. Have a seat. I've got some things to do and then maybe we'll take another ride."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  "Where are we going?" Clark asked. He knew Sid was excited and the excitement was contagious ó his own heart beating faster, his nerves tingling.

  "They found Katherine Elsinger's body. Someone raped her and killed her.

  Tied weights to her ankles and dropped her in the bay. Whatever he used to hold her down came loose because all the wires slipped off her ankles or broke, leaving only the marks. If this is our baby, he's all grown up now ... grown up to bigger games."

  They were on the Kennedy Memorial Highway, heading south. Clark watched the speedometer needle climb to 75. It didn't seem fast enough. It was a four-lane highway and he estimated they could do 80 or 90 with no trouble.

  He resisted the urge to ask Sid to go faster and said, "Did the doctor at the hospital give you a description of the man?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Tell me."

  "So you can use that gun in your pocket as soon as you see him? Next time you carry a gun, buy looser clothing so the bulge won't be so obvious."

  "Are you going to tell me what he looks like?"

  "Ugly. Short. Fat. Five foot five. Hundred and eighty pounds. Black hair.

  Dark eyes. Round nose. Scars on his face. Promise me you won't shoot the first fat man you see."

  "I promise."

  "They found the woman's body near Chesapeake City. Her body is in the morgue there so we'll take a look at it and talk with the local sheriff."

  Clark watched the road and the flash of green hills on either side of the road. He slipped his hand in his pocket and felt the butt of the gun ...

  "This case doesn't fit in the pattern, does it?" he asked. "We could be wasting our time ... "

  "It fits in two ways. Katherine Elsinger is from this area which seems to be our baby's favorite hunting grounds."

  "So he might have kidnapped her and taken her down to the bay?"

  "Right. He tried to hide the body. Maybe that means he's smart enough to know he's been hitting too often around here and wants to move on to new hunting grounds. And there's something else that fits the pattern."

  "Katherine Elsinger was last seen with an ugly, short fat man with a round nose?"

  "No. She wasn't last seen with anybody. That's the funny part. The night she disappeared ... As she was leaving the house, her mother asked her where she was going. Guess what Katherine said?"

  "That she had a date with an ugly, short fat man with a ó "

  "According to the files, her mother told the investigating officer that Katherine said, quote, I don't know where I'm going, unquote."

  Clark felt a chill on his back. "As if she'd been hypnotized and instructed to meet someone somewhere ... "

  "Exactly."

  "My God."

  "Clever little trick, huh? Just think ... if you were that good a hypnotist, you could see a broad almost anywhere. Hypnotize her, tell her to meet you ó"

  "What makes a guy turn into a rapist?" Clark asked suddenly. Immediately after asking the question, he realized it was a rather stupid question, but the thought had burst upon his lips.

  "What makes a thief, a bank robber, a murderer?" Sid hesitated while he passed a truck that rode with its left wheels on the center line, almost forcing them onto the median strip while they passed. When they were safely beyond the truck, he continued, "I heard a psychologist phrase it once as an 'extension of a normal sexual impulse.'"

  "Normal?"

  "Wait. That's wrong. He said, 'abnormal extension of a normal sexual impulse.' A normal sexual impulse is to dominate a woman and screw her.

  Right? I think what the psychologist meant was that sometimes the impulse is so strong or the urge to dominate is so strong, it turns into rape."

  "But that's like saying rape's a normal ó "

  "Not quite. He said abnormal extension of a normal impulse. He said something else too that might be true, might not, I never thought about it much. He said almost every man in the world is a potential rapist. Any man with a normal sex drive. What prevents most men from becoming rapists is ... well, the reasons are damned good ones. Common sense. Logic. Fear of discovery, fear of punishment. He said, almost any man could turn into a rapist if he knew he wouldn't be punished."

  "Jesus! That psychologist should see a psychiatrist !"

  Sid chuckled. "Maybe so."

  Clark watched the road ahead. In the silence between them, watching the road, he remembered Beatrice. And how he'd almost raped her. At Norma's apartment, he'd had the impulse to rape Peggy. While slipping his rod in and out of Norma, he'd had the tremendous urge to jump on Peggy, sink his rod deep into her ...

  Elaine ... at the office ... how many times had he wanted to screw her ... ?

  A thousand times. And since the act would have been completed in the presence of Elaine's unwillingness to go so far as sexual intercourse, the urge to screw her had, in a sense, been an urge to rape her. Logic and the fear of discovery and the fear of punishment had prevented him from forcing himself upon Elaine. Raping Elaine, he would have lost his job, his freedom, and one of the best wives in the world ...

  "Want to hear something funny ?" Sid asked.

  "I'm dying to hear something funny."

  "Remember you found that cigar butt at the tennis court where Debbie Kessler was raped when you were playing cops and robbers with me?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Did you hear about the girl found in that alley ? Raped and strangled ?"

  "I heard about it. Did you work on that case?"

  "They assigned it to another detective. It doesn't fit the pattern of our baby but ó "

  "It could have been the work of the hypnotist, couldn't it? If a criminal has a pattern, that doesn't mean he always sticks to the pattern, does it?"

  "Smart boy. That's what I wanted to tell you. Remember you found that cigar butt at the tennis court? And, even though they assigned the case of that girl in the alley to another detective, I went to the scene just for the hell of it and looked around. Guess what I found in the gutter between the alley where they found the body and the place where the girl worked? An empty cigar package. As if the rapist had smoked the last one and tossed the package in the gutter."

  "What kind of cigars ... ?"

  "Havana's."

  "I also found a cigar band at the tennis courts," Clark said. "I didn't tell you at the time because you said ó "

  "I know. I told you a cigar butt isn't a clue. A lot of guys smoke cigars."

  They were both silent for a long time. Finally Sid slapped the steering wheel with the palm of a hand, turned toward his companion, grinning. "Okay.

  I'll say it. Promise me you won't start shooting the first time you see a fat man smoking a cigar."

  "I promise."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Connie went to the window and raised one of the Venetian slats a fraction of an inch. She could see the main road and the railroad tracks on the other side of the road. As she watched, a train roared by. Even from the other side of the road, the noise was deafe
ning. She went to the bureau, lit a cigarette, and studied her naked body in the mirror. She went to her purse and counted the money she'd taken from Pawelski. Five thousand and twenty dollars. She walked across the room to the chair where Pawelski still sat, staring straight ahead. She waved her hand in front of his eyes but his eyes did not flicker. She looked with disgust at his hairy naked body. He was ugly ... but stronger than any man she'd had before.

  It had been a surprise getting the phone call from him. He'd asked her to come to Chesapeake City and at first she'd said no. Why in hell should she travel fifty miles just to suck his cock?