Little Tramp (Prologue Crime)

by Gil Brewer

  He said nothing.

  “If you do, you’re crazy. This is business, and get that straight.” She paused, watching him, self-satisfaction mirrored in her eyes.

  “How do you mean?”

  “I told you in the car and you laughed, Gary.” She turned and walked across the room toward a doorway. He followed her, and she turned and moved back to him. “I said you kidnaped me—that’s what I meant.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t see anything. You don’t believe me. But you will.” She stood suddenly, giggled, straining not to. She held both hands over her mouth, trying to muffle the sound. As abruptly, she ceased, her eyes round, watching him. “Want to listen now?”

  “Where’s my jacket? I’m getting out of here.”

  She shook her head. “You’re not going any place.” And then she began talking smoothly, not loudly, just telling him, and he did not speak. “I said you kidnaped me, Gary, and that’s what I mean. It’s very simple, honestly. It took me a long time to figure it all out, but that’s often the way with simple things. And I picked you for the job. Isn’t that nice?”

  He did not speak.

  “It’s all planned, you know,” she said. “And I don’t expect you to do it for nothing, you goof. I know all about you. You’re a poor man, Gary. You want money badly. I made it my business to know these things. You want to marry that girl, though I can’t exactly see why. Do you really love her, Gary?”

  He said nothing.

  “And now you’ve lost your job. Only you’re going to be rich, and I’m going to get what I want. We’re going to hit the old man hard, as hard as I like. And I’ll be free!”

  He tried to believe she was joking. It was clear she wasn’t. She was as serious as hell, but it didn’t make any sense. “Hit the old man?”

  “Ransom, Gary. Ransom. I’m trying to explain—you don’t have any choice.”

  He cleared his throat, turned and went into the kitchen and stood by the sink. She thought this was fun. He knew something of the rich ones, how they’d done everything, seen everything—then went phhhhht! trying for something new.

  He looked at the bottle of gin, then walked back into the living room. The place was roughly furnished, with pale curtains nailed to unfinished walls. There was a small radio on a table beside the studio couch, and he saw his gray jacket lying in a wad on the floor. He also noticed a phone on a narrow shelf bracketed to the wall by the couch.

  “Don’t all men dream of kidnaping somebody like me?” she asked softly. “Don’t they?”

  “You can turn it off.”

  “I’m serious, Gary …”

  “Look, let’s forget the whole thing. All right?”

  “It’s too late,” she said. “And anyway, I wouldn’t forget it. I had it all planned, don’t you see? I was going to tell you first, get you to come along on it with me. But I saw you were too honest for that. You might’ve balked. It really wouldn’t’ve mattered, but this way’s better. No slip-ups.”

  “No slip-ups.”

  “You see, I’m home from college on vacation. From up in New England. Only tonight I left for summer school, back to New England, see? I took a cab for the airport in Tampa, only I went to your place, instead.”

  It began to grow a little tighter now. “My place?”

  “Yes. I waited for you a while, then went to that bar for a drink. I could see when you came home.” She giggled again. “Your car, Gary. It’s the kidnap car. What you pulled the snatch in. I think of everything.”

  It was too much. Blood surged into his shoulders, and he was wringing wet with sweat. He kept staring at her, trying to see some sign of the joke behind all this. There was no sign.

  “Where are we?” he asked. His voice was cautious now, quite.

  “Tarpon Lake. U. S. Nineteen. I rented this cabin—under another name, of course. By phone. There are some other cabins, but only a couple are occupied. You’re Howard Black, and I’m your wife, Ann.”

  He began to think hard. She was either crazy as hell, or the deadliest schemer he’d ever met up with. He wasn’t sure which he preferred. Then he remembered something, and the bewilderment that had begun to settle around his heart vanished.

  “Hell,” he said. “You can come off it now. It’s been a fine joke, only let’s forget it, all right? Why would you pull a stunt like this with the father you’ve got?” He wondered why he hadn’t thought of this before. “Your old man’s loaded, Arlene.”

  Her voice became strangely bitter. “I don’t get any of that money—and that’s why I’m doing this. Because he treats me like a little girl—somebody he can dictate to. You saw how he had you fired? He enjoyed that, Gary—he even told me about it.” She paused, and her eyes had hardened. “All my life I’ve been shipped around the world like a box of old shoes.” Her agitation was plain, and she spat out the next few words venomously. “I hate him! He’s a dirty son of a bitch!” She was breathing hard, eyes bright, her face thrust forward and white.

  The whole thing was unbelievable and yet he knew damned well she was telling the truth. But his mind couldn’t conceive it—it was too much. She was young, a kid—telling him she’d rigged up a scheme, with him in the middle.

  “You’ll never understand that part,” she went on. “It’s inside me—it’s always been there. My mother’s dead and my father buys my way. I can’t be me! Never could—never will, unless I do something. Well, I’ve done it. I’m taking what I can get. And you’re going to help me.”

  In small pieces all the former bewilderment returned, along with a new load of worry. He tried to keep his voice calm.

  “How old are you, Arlene?”

  She grinned abruptly. “Old enough.”

  “How old?”

  She snickered. “What are you worried about?” She slapped one hand against her right thigh, slid it up and snapped the edge of her black panties. “Big enough, too—for when you’re interested, sweetheart.”

  Gray dawn began to filter in through the screen door, paling the light in the room. He glanced outside and the sky through the pines beyond the lake was rimmed with pinks and yellows. Already there was a change in the air, a subtle warmth that was seen more than felt. He couldn’t condition himself to the belief that she wasn’t joking.

  He heard his voice, very cautious, feeling her out.

  “I’d better take you home, have your father call in the family doctor. What you’re saying just doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense, but I suppose it is startling.”

  He moved toward her, then paused. That was no good, either. She wanted him to touch her. And standing there, looking at her, he also saw the cabin become progressively brighter with morning, and birds sang down along the lake.

  He felt ill; his head was splitting now. There was a slight curl to her lip and her eyes were defiant. And he began to feel the deadly earnestness, the absolute seriousness in her.

  “It’s going to be fun,” she said. “You’ll catch on after a while.”

  Abruptly, the whole thing burst inside him. He reached her in one stride, grasped her shoulders, speaking loudly into her face. “You’re lying!” he said. “Damn you—” The words were there, but they refused to come. He felt a little crazy, and she began twisting in his grip, finally yanked herself free.

  “You better sit down and think,” she said, breathing heavily. “I meant every word I said. I don’t give a good damn what you think.” She whirled and started toward the bedroom. “I’m going to take a dip.” She hesitated, and looked back at him. “By the way,” she said. “Nobody’d ever believe this was my plan, Gary. And you wouldn’t expect me to be fool enough to admit such a thing.” Her voice leveled, and she spoke very softly. “And don’t you be a fool—don’t try to run out on me, because I won’t let you. Not now.”

  “You’re going to stop me?”

  She nodded. “That’s right. I can stop you without doing anything at all. You ever try anything now and I promi
se you all hell will bust loose. I’d say you lied, and I’d be believed—not you. Only it would be worse than just that. Losing your Dolores would be the least of the matter. Because they’re sure as hell looking for me right now. I’ve vanished, and that bartender will remember us together—and how we went off in your car. You’ve kidnaped me, and that’s the way it is. So, go ahead—try something. Go to the police and see what happens. Call them; there’s a phone, and it works. You’ll be so deep behind steel bars you’ll never get out. Because you’ve kidnaped me and raped me—done all sorts of interesting things to me. You begin to get it yet? You know the penalty for rape in this state? Well, figure out what the penalty for kidnaping is, George.”

  She meant it. She meant every crazy word of it.

  SIX

  SHE STOOD there smirking slyly. “You’re trapped, dad.

  There’s nothing you can do.”

  Again he forced himself to keep his voice calm. “Have you any idea how screwy this is? You think you can get away with something like this?”

  “I know I can.”

  There was nothing he could say. It would be like talking to a shell. He didn’t want to believe it, but there it was. Go ahead and call her bluff, Dunn.

  “Well?” she said.

  He turned and strode out of the cabin, letting the screen door slam with a smash. He came off the porch. Drifting fingers of fog combed the country, sifting across the waters of the lake, and the sun was a lazy red ball swinging above distant cypress trees, shooting blazing fingers of light in long burning slants across the morning. He walked swiftly around the side to where the car was parked. The keys were gone from the ignition, and all he could think right then was that he had to get out of here and talk to somebody—he wanted to see Doll.

  “Gary!”

  Arlene hurried around the side of the cabin, then halted a few feet from the car. The burning sunlight haloed the edges of her yellow hair, planed redly along the smooth flesh of her thighs.

  He came out of the car and went over to her.

  “Where are my keys?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  Something went out of him. She stood there for a moment, smirking again, then turned and walked swiftly back to the cabin, her buttocks swinging.

  Back at the car, he slumped on the edge of the seat with the door open. Heat from the morning sun was already scalding the metal, turning the interior warm. He wanted a cigarette, found none in his pockets, searched the seats, then opened the glove compartment and came up with a small.32 Savage automatic. He held it in his sweating hand, staring. She must have put it there, but why? At first, the feel of the gun put thoughts into his head, but he discarded them. What the hell good would it do? He returned the gun to the compartment, closed the lid, and went back to the cabin.

  Arlene was standing on the pier, wearing a two-piece black bathing suit, looking out across the lake, her back to him.

  He went inside and headed for the phone. He could call Doll, and with the thought came a kind of relief. He still wasn’t sure that mixed-up kid out there was telling the truth. He thought of the police. He pictured himself trying to explain all of this to them, and he knew he’d be held while they checked the story. And he knew what would happen—if she was telling the truth. It would be as she’d said. Franklin Harper had money. He was well known and respected. His daughter would scream implications. It would be fine.

  Instinct warned him against doing anything like calling the police. He could probably get the car going without ignition keys, but again there was the chance that she’d flip and take action before he was able to do anything. It would be too easy a sacrifice. Turn himself in with this tale, and he’d be sunk.

  He knew well enough that it could work exactly as she had it planned. And in his mind, now, with the alcohol beginning to wear off, the hungover sickness in his body and mind, the whole thing assumed gigantic proportions. He’d been too close to hell too many times not to recognize the furnace when he was inside walking on the burning grate.

  Ransom … hit her old man for ransom.

  He forced himself to calm down. There had to be some way out of this for him, no matter what happened to that kid.

  He called Doll.

  “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.” Her voice was lazy with sleep, and he heard her yawn. “Where’ve you been? I don’t remember seeing you around lately. ‘Bye.”

  “Wait—Doll!”

  “For what?”

  “I’m in a jam—will you just listen for a minute?” He realized then that he’d have to tell her about losing the job, too.

  “You’re drunk,” she said. “I can tell.”

  He pictured her to himself, the thick black hair mussed and jumbled with sleep, shoulder-tossed and beautiful. Only right now, there was something nasty in her tone.

  “I said I’m in a jam.”

  “That so?”

  He glanced through the screen door, down toward the lake. Arlene was in the water, splashing around off the end of the pier.

  “Arvin isn’t home from work yet,” she said. “But Grandma’s asleep. I don’t want to wake her up. Don’t bother to call back.”

  “Doll, wait!”

  He had shouted. He cursed himself for that, looking again down toward the lake. Arlene was pulling herself up onto the pier. Arvin was Doll’s brother, and he hoped he wouldn’t be coming in just then.

  “You’ve got to listen,” he said, speaking rapidly. “I’ve lost my job.”

  “I see.”

  “That’s not the point. It’s more than that.” And suddenly he started talking. He began at the beginning and told her everything. He knew it sounded jumbled, maybe even incoherent, because he was trying desperately to get it all across to her before Arlene returned to the cabin. He told her where he was and how he’d tried to get away, but the keys weren’t in the car. “It’s a mess,” he said. “The girl’s a wild one, Doll—she doesn’t seem to realize. You can’t reach her. You can’t get to her at all.”

  “Really wild, huh?”

  “She’s going to be hard to handle.”

  “But you’re handling her all right, right?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Gary, you’re drunk. For God’s sake. This is a laugh. A pretty little girl’s keeping you prisoner. You expect me to believe a yarn like that? I haven’t seen anything of you—and you’ve been out with this—this whatever she is.”

  “Doll, listen—there’s not much time—”

  “You listen,” she said. “You got fired from your job. So you get drunk and shack up with some—some—You must be drunk to call me at a time like this, telling me these things.”

  “Doll.”

  “I think you’d better sleep it off. No doubt that’ll be fun.”

  “You’ve got to listen!”

  “I don’t have to do anything.”

  He didn’t know what to say. She’d made up her mind. He knew how hopeless it was to argue with her when she reached a certain point. He realized he’d gone about it all wrong. But he had expected her to understand. Only how could she believe a thing like that?

  “I’m going to hang up, Gary. I’m very tired. I had a rough night.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Never mind. It was a rough night, that’s all. You didn’t show up.”

  He tried to read merely the usual argumentative ring to her tone, but it wasn’t there. She was plenty serious and she didn’t believe him.

  “It was all a bit too much to hope for, wasn’t it, Gary? You told me once, I remember, how you had a delightful knack for getting into jams.”

  He wanted to explain, but he felt helpless. He knew he had to be careful, because the very thought of losing Doll now, over something like this, was the most terrible sensation he’d ever experienced. Her imagination was working overtime, and there was loaded evidence that he was passing her a foul line.

  Every God-damned thing was wrong.

  “Doll, for Chri
st’s sake—I’m not lying to you.”

  Her tone was emotionless, which only made it worse, and what she said sent the blood surging into his head and shoulders.

  “I need my rest, Gary. The boss wants to see me early tonight. He’s cooking up something about this Miami flier, with a salary raise.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve told you before. I wasn’t going to take the job down there. The new club’s opened. I might just as well go on down there now.”

  “You can’t,” he snapped.

  “Can’t I, though?”

  There was nothing he could do. He wasn’t sure whether she was just trying to hurt him, or whether she actually meant what she said. Either way, it was bad. Then he heard Arlene call loudly from the porch.

  “Gary? Hey, honey—where are you?”

  He slapped his hand over the phone mouthpiece. He was too late.

  “She wants you, darling,” Doll said nastily. “You better go to her.”

  “Doll, don’t believe—”

  She hung up. He heard Arlene crossing the porch on bare feet. Quickly, he hung up and shoved the phone back on the shelf, lay down on the couch. He was breathing hard, his mind whirling.

  “Gary?”

  “Yeah.”

  She came inside, stood in the partially opened doorway, looking at him.

  “Thought for a minute you’d run away,” she said. “But you’re not that dumb, are you, after all?”

  He did not look at her.

  “Don’t you feel well, Gary?”

  “I feel fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine.”

  “To hell with you.”

  “All right. I have something to show you.”

  Still he did not look at her. He heard the bare feet come across the room and pause by the couch, and a paper rustled. He glanced up then and she was smiling down at him. She was holding a newspaper in her hands.

  He sat up fast.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “I snitched it.”

  “What?”

  “I stole it off the back porch of a cabin a few doors down. See!”