“I’ve rotted in the city too long, my young friend. I’m just like all the others.”
He snorted.
“Now listen. What can we do besides bandy words and guess? What’ve we got? If it all fits, and it may not, it started some time back when I ran over this girl, Angela Stein. Her death evidently triggered some character into action. We don’t know exactly why just yet, and may never know. He had a go at me, and missed. Later, he began using the telephone. He spooked me half out of my wits. He’s hipped on this automobile business, probably could have killed me easily when I first got out of the hospital and was out of action. On the other hand, it wouldn’t be so neat here, with people living close by.
“I’m playing by ear, of course, but plans changed. My friends were threatened, he had a go at you and Louise. This time he scored. I got cagey and he nearly got me. He scored again. Riley may have something definite, but we haven’t got a single clue I know of that’s worth a damn.”
Henry finished his cigarette. “You’re bright and cheerful this evening.”
“You make something out of it, then.”
His restlessness exploded into another pacing spree. “I’ve found out a few things, Mark. Kind of upsetting.”
“Let me in on it.”
“Louise was married—before.”
I wasn’t surprised. “You find that out when you went up to Spokane?”
He nodded. “I guess she came down here into Idaho for a divorce, that’s what Riley said. Her ex-husband was here in Layton the night she—got killed.”
“Ho-ho! I can see Riley landing on that information.”
“Yeah, he did. But the ex was drinking it up at a local joint, and the way it looks, he couldn’t have done it, anyway.”
I could picture the fierce lieutenant badgering witnesses, bartenders and waitresses. And if he’d uncovered anything, the Spokanite would be in jail. I’d seen nothing in the papers.
“Was this ex-husband seeing Louise?”
“So what if he was? It wouldn’t matter now—”
“Easy—”
He halted in front of me. “Okay, I was dumb. I guess I always have been, about girls.”
“It’s a common failing. You’re young.”
The pacing continued. Sometimes it got on my nerves. However, it might be better than letting it boil around in your guts, like it was doing in mine. “One thing we can do,” I said. “If you’re willing.”
“Oh?”
“Check out a few people, as we planned before.”
He stopped walking. “Like who?”
“Vently and Ben Cook, perchance.”
“And Marie Goddard?”
“Damn it, she was in the car with Fay and me.”
“That would kind of eliminate her, all right.”
Maybe I was talking around him. As upset as he obviously was, this observation would come as no shock.
“Okay,” he said. “Who first?”
“Chester Vently might do.”
He considered. “Mark, until you get better, maybe we better skip it.”
“Damn it, you said you’d find the guy that killed Louise if it took ten years. Remember?”
“Okay! But it’s dangerous—”
“So is just plain living. Our remote ancestors were used to it—we’re not.”
He shrugged.
“What about this Vently creep? You’ve been going to meetings and so on.”
Henry snorted. “He’s afraid of his own shadow!”
“Could be. Where does he work? What does he do?”
“Oh, nothing much that I know of. He sold a book of poems—”
“Goody for him. Henry, you’ve been around the printing business for several years. Be practical.”
“Okay—” His loyalty to the Jollies persisted, amazingly.
“Where does he live?”
“Exham Apartments.”
“Fancy layout. Rents around a hundred a month.”
“You mean he might be in something shady?”
I sighed. “I’m just curious. In our own weak and amateurish way, we might, as they say, uncover something. When did he hit the scene poetic?”
“Oh—over a year ago. From back east someplace.”
“That’s his story, probably. What else you know about him?”
“He exercises a lot, takes vitamin pills.”
“Naturally. This Snark gal is pretty possessive around him. Anything there?”
“Oh—that’s just club stuff—”
“Could be. She’d make quite a catch. Some of these arty old gals aren’t immune to a little romance…”
Henry shook his head. “Maybe he’s got a rich aunt or something. Or some shares of stock.”
“Perchance. Has he got a car?”
“Yeah. A Corvette.”
“They don’t give those things away, either.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Now—maybe we ought to look Chester’s place over.”
“You mean—break in?”
“Call it slip or sneak. Sounds better. Doesn’t malfeasance ring better on the ear than stealing?”
“You’re really sharp tonight—” He squirmed. “How?”
“You can find out when he’s not at home—I think you mentioned he gads a lot. Maybe a window open or something. If I remember right, those Exham Apartments are spread out over a hillside south of town, what they call ranch style.”
He had a cigarette. He didn’t like the idea. He had a good job, a good reputation around town. His employers were known to be fussy about their help, and Henry had been spread out in the paper considerably already. But his girl had been run over and killed—and maybe I’d planted the idea firmly enough.
“Oh—I got it,” he said. “Some of next month’s Jasmine proofs are ready. I could drive out there with them—he’s one of the associate editors…”
“Now you’re perking.”
He felt better. A bit of candy coating on an enter-and-search violation.
“When I get on my feet again, I’ll help you.”
“Yeah. When’ll that be?”
“Schiller isn’t sure. He’s coming by in the morning. I can walk, but he told me to stay put for a while.”
He shook his head. “You sure surprised everybody—including me!”
“I’m Percy the poet, and don’t know it—”
He started to answer when we heard footfalls on the ramp between my hideout and the Hillview. It was Cable. I think Henry recognized the stride, too. The knock came loudly.
“It’s open,” I said. Henry had come in that way. My front door was locked and so were the windows. I’m a light sleeper, but one mistake and I might be sleeping for a long time.
“Heard old Hen go by a while ago,” he said, smirking, closing the door against the stink of smog. It didn’t help much, because Cable had an odor all his own. It reminded me of creosote. He wore his work coveralls.
“You can drop the ‘Hen’ business,” Dee said bristling.
The mousy redhead grinned his silly grin and sat down, crossing his legs. “Sorry, Hen-ry! Hey, what’re we all so edgy about?”
“What the hell do you suppose?”
The gold tooth vanished. “I was just going to try to inject a slice of humor. I know it’s bad. Real bad. Two good Jolly members, gone—just like that.” He snapped his fingers. His nails were dirty, too. But that was probably an occupational hazard.
And why in hell had I ever asked him to repair my radio? He’d taken that as an open invitation to come by any old time.
“You weren’t at the meeting,” I said casually.
He slapped his knee. “Hey, that reminds me! Old Mark holding out on us—walking and driving…”
“Yeah,” Henry said.
“Ah—sorry! I got a service call up at Austin.”
I knew all about that, naturally. Austin was seven miles up the Snake River, on the Washington shore.
“I couldn’t find the address up there,�
� he went on. “But I got regular customers out that way, so it turned out all right.”
I felt a little cheap. After all, this was the guy’s living. I’d wanted a look at the Jollies with their poetic pants down, and I’d got it. Had Cable come back in time to loosen a nut or two, pull a cotter pin?
I’d have to find out—but not from him. There’d been a wide, wide river and nine or ten miles of road between him and the clubhouse, but how far is that nowadays? Everything but the brakes could have been done earlier in the evening, possibly before Fay and I had driven off.
I decided he’d do as well as the next on our list of probables. And maybe we were barking at the wrong moon entirely. Obviously, we had to get something more definite. But just where and how to get it escaped me at the moment. Evidently it had been escaping Riley, too.
“Hey—I got some beer over at the diggin’s,” Cable suggested.
“Not tonight, Lewis,” I said.
“I don’t feel so hot, either,” Henry said.
Cable stood up, grinning. “Maybe some other time.”
I nodded and he turned to Henry. “Sorry, old buddy. About Louise, and everything.”
“Oh—thanks, Cable.”
“You got any radios or things that need fixing—”
“No!”
Cable backed off, his grin turning cold. I was surprised at Henry’s abruptness.
“Hey—I meant it friendly, Henry. No charge—”
Henry flushed. “I’m—upset, Lewis. Skip it.”
The redhead shot me an inquiring look, shrugged and went out the door.
“You didn’t have to be rude,” I said.
Henry lunged to his feet. “I don’t feel good, Mark. I’m sorry! Christ! I wish this damned mess was over with—”
“We’re all riding thin,” I said.
When Henry was gone I locked the back door and had another smoke. I, too, was tired and disgusted. My legs ached. 37,002 now. Another traffic fatality, another slab in the cemetery, which should bear this epitaph:
Planted here through
the Heroic Efforts of
MARK JASON,
alias Percy the Poet, who is still living.
Cozy thoughts on a miserable foggy night.
I decided it was time to go to bed.
CHAPTER NINE
I got as far as pajamas and robe and decided to have another smoke before turning in. I needed one of the pain-killers Schiller had left on his last visit, but I’d got by so far without them. Anyway, I wanted to sleep with one eye open, ready to move. This fiend might quit using automobiles.
My phone hadn’t been plugged in since I’d returned from the hospital, denying him the chance to gloat. He’d missed me twice. Third time and all that old superstition, you know…
I was considering a cold beer then I heard a car pull up out front. This was unusual, because as I explained before, most of my visitors came from down below.
All thoughts of a cold beer vanished as something else cold inched along my spine. I had no rifles or pistols handy, no bombs or bayonets, either.
A car door slammed, feet scuffed the gravel at the edge of the road. Now the feet moved onto my front porch.
I eased out of my wheelchair and ambled stiffly into the parlor. I hadn’t made up my mind what to do about this invader when knuckles touched the door.
“Who is it?” My voice was raspy.
“Me—Marie…”
I exhaled, stood there numbly a few seconds, getting used to the idea.
“Hold it,” I said.
I unlatched the door and in she came, all bundled up in a shorty coat, smelling wintry and wonderful. “Well,” she said, looking around. “This is cozy.”
“My etchings are in the living room.”
She giggled, giving me one of those high-voltage smiles. Those lips I had come so near tasting at the hospital were now even more pouty and alluring.
We moved into my lair, and I was glad I’d cleaned it out. A subconscious wish this would happen?
“Mark, I called several times.” She eased onto my daveno, fluffing her hair. She wore a plaid skirt and another one of those loose, long-sleeved sweaters. The skin along the nape of my neck began crawling—not from fear. I took her coat and hung it up.
“My phone’s been unplugged,” I said, showing her the outlet in the wall.
“How do you expect girls to call with that kind of a gadget, huh?”
“I don’t. I expect them to come and see me.”
“Mmmmmm. I didn’t think you were so egotistical.”
“It’s a front. I’m really damn flattered you took the trouble.”
“Well, now. I dig that.”
“Good. How about a beer?”
“I dig that, too.”
I went out in the kitchenette, opened the refrigerator.
“How are the legs?” she called.
“Usable, but weak. How’re you feeling?”
“Lonesome, and—sexy.”
I nearly dropped the can I was puncturing. Finally I brought two of them out, handing her one. I sat down on the daveno, not too close. She smiled, her tongue flirty with the beer can.
“You’re really kind of shy, aren’t you, Percy?”
I grinned. “You could try me.”
She giggled. “Well, I will! I mean, if you don’t get skittish. Silent recitation! What a gasser…”
“Not too bad for spur of the moment.”
She drank daintily. “Mark, is it too awful to kid—so soon after Fay died?”
“Nope. I don’t think she’d be wanting us to wear black arm-bands.”
“Well, I feel better, really.”
“Did you get banged up any? I mean it doesn’t show, but—”
“I was lucky, Mark. I guess the way the car turned it snapped the door open—and I just fell out. I got a bruise on my head, that’s all.”
“What happened to the jive talk?”
She put the beer can down. “Gets kind of old after while, doesn’t it? Mark—I’ve got a confession. I came to see you because I wanted to, but there’s something else. I’m a little scared.”
A trickle of the old fear and hatred ran through me. “Did you get a phone call?”
Her large eyes widened. “Huh? How did you—”
“Listen, Marie. Something bad has been going on. Nothing in the papers, so far. Was the call—rough?”
She made a face. “Disgusting—but what is all this?”
I told her briefly what had been cooking. About the anonymous TT artist, about Henry and Fay and myself getting calls. She was sharp enough to figure out that the calls had spelled murder—and might again.
“Should I tell the police, Mark?”
“Yes. Everything about it. The time, and so on.” I had a smoke, and she didn’t. “It’s hard to catch a fiend like that, Marie. The phone company traced a few to phone booths—and that’s about all.”
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
“Have you told your family?”
“Well, not yet. I wanted to see you—”
I growled out a curse. “When did the call come in?”
“This morning, at home. Mom was downstairs.”
Madness and frustration began building inside me again. “Now, listen, Marie. This guy’s dangerous. He’s tried for me twice. Then he tried Henry and Louise Schmidt, and got her. It’s obvious he got Fay trying for me the second time. So you see, I’m poison. You shouldn’t even be here. This character hates me so bad he’ll do anything to tear me to pieces, and he doesn’t care who gets chewed up in the process. He’s got a car fixation, but it might not hold. Obviously a real gone and clever psycho. He’s found out we’re friendly, so he’s after you.”
She shivered, reaching for her can of beer. It was empty, so I went out and brought back two more. She took hers with a murmur of thanks.
“You really think I’m in danger—just being here?”
“I’m afraid so. What’d this character say?—if y
ou want to repeat it.”
She flushed. “Well, some I’d rather not. But the voice did make a threat. Said I’d get messed up if I hung around you. Something about the devil claiming his own—”
“That’s a little different—I hope you can forgive me for causing all this…”
“Mark, you didn’t cause anything! I wanted to come over—and I did.”
“You’re a brave girl. You said ‘the voice.’ Did it sound like anyone you know?”
She shivered. “No—too mechanical, I guess. Really.”
“It laughed?”
She nodded. We drank more beer, as my thoughts jumped like three jackrabbits going over a hill. Her eyes swung around on me. “Do we have to be scary all evening? I feel safe enough around you.”
“I could go into my Percy routine—” The beer was reaching me. “We could tell stories, read poems or work crossword puzzles.”
She giggled. “I know a better parlor game, Mark. More interesting—”
“Do I dig you?” I asked.
Her eyes said I did. I moved over beside her.
“Are you really dangerous, Percy?”
“I throw a mean couplet, I’m gone on the Spenserian Stanza…”
“Throw me something poetic, then.”
“Her lips so ripe and red and moist, I did so want to taste them while I lay abed—”
She laughed, moving them within striking range. “Methinks we were so rudely interrupted…”
“Not now, fair lass—not now!”
Warm, scented, eager. They enveloped me, giving even more than they’d promised. Shy retreat, then bold invitation. I had dreamed about those lips, and now I had them.
I had something else, too. Beneath her sweater.
Her tongue begged.
Pretty soon the scented sweater and black, lacy bra were on the floor. I turned out one lamp. Her tanned and untanned flesh contrasted delightfully. “You’re a nice, soft doll, Marie.”
“Oh, Mark! I’m not afraid, now.”
I played with her softness until it grew hard and hungry in several important places. Then I made love to those places in every way I could think of.
CHAPTER TEN
My plan to attend Fay’s funeral the next day was sidetracked by my doctor, who said I’d have to stay put a while or wind up in the hospital again. I phoned a florist and ordered a wreath.
I phoned Riley at the police station.
“Did Marie Goddard contact you?” I asked.
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