Devil Girls

by Ed Wood

  “The door is locked. It’ll give me plenty of time to get out of the window, the same way I got in. I got a rope and a hook I made years ago, for getting in and out of my window when I didn’t want Ma to know I was out. It’s been in the alley all this time. A rope and a window hook. It’s easy to climb once you get the knack. I got it under the pillow.” She pointed to the pillow, but Rhoda didn’t investigate any further. She went to the dresser and took out a soft blue nylon nightgown which she handed to Lila. Lila stripped immediately and let the soft folds drift down over her body. She sighed in ecstasy at the luxurious feeling. “Now that is nice . . .” she purred, then got in under the covers. She turned to look up at Rhoda. “You better get out of those clothes too. They stink.”

  “I know. I had a bad dream.”

  “Pot always ends up in bad dreams.”

  “I sweat them up pretty bad.”

  “And the M smoke didn’t help any. You ain’t gonna’ be able to wash the smell out, and you don’t dare take them to the cleaners. Put them in an ash can tomorrow—someplace away from here.”

  “Sure, Lila. Soon’s I go out lookin’ for Lark in the morning.” She shrugged off her clothes and stuffed them into a large paper bag she took from the closet. Rhoda took a long time in putting the Levi’s with the other things. “My only pair of Levi’s . . .”

  “So you’ll get another. I got some dough outta’ that guy I knocked over with the whiskey bottle. Hundred and twenty bucks and some change. Besides, wear a skirt for a while. It’s much easier to pull a skirt up then pull a pair of pants down.” She raised up on one elbow. “You never did tell me how you got dough for pot?”

  “I jazzed Rick and Lonnie . . .”

  “And Babs . . .”

  “Yeah,” blushed Rhoda.

  “So don’t be embarrassed. She’s pretty good. I been there before you. Just watch her, that’s all.”

  Rhoda slipped into a second nightie she took from the dresser drawer. It was pink, and it was nylon, but much older than the one she had given Lila. She slid under the covers beside Lila, then reached over and turned off the lamp. The smell of the bologna offended her nose, so she pushed the bucket where she had thrown the things further away from the bed.

  “Goodnight,” Rhoda whispered lightly, happily. She was honestly glad Lila was back. She thought at first she might lay awake the rest of the night, so that she would be ready if anyone tried to sneak up on them. But then she thought better of it. She was a light sleeper and she would awake, and she was sure Lila, with all her experience, would be just as light a sleeper. She would have to be, after what she had gone through these last months.

  Rhoda was just dozing as Lila’s soft voice cut through the fog of approaching sleep. “Rhoda?”

  “Yes?”

  “Something’s bothering me. I ain’t interested in you gettin’ to the joint where I was. And murder will put you there faster than you can blink an eye. Where did they kill the teacher?”

  “Some cabin in the desert.”

  “Did they clean it up real good?”

  “Just as soon as they came back to earth; down from flyin’ around on H. After the boys dumped her on the hospital lawn.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  The next morning, Thursday, came on as strong as a glassine of heroin. Dark clouds began to form in the sky around six, along with the faint sunrise. Within half an hour the lightning zig-zagged its way earthward accompanied by earth-shaking thunderclaps and rumbles. Then the rain hit in a sudden deluge. Reverend Steele prayed all would be clear by ten so that he could conduct the funeral services with the dignity he felt only sunlight could afford. But his prayers were not to be answered. If anything, the rain came down harder and the lightning show in the sky became more intensified.

  Considering Millie Long was Harriett Long’s only living relative, Reverend Steele was pleasantly surprised by the turn out for the interment. The school was well represented by Hal Carter, Miss O’Hara and several of the teachers who could be spared from their classrooms for a time. Then there were a few shopkeepers and their wives whom she had done business with and had become friendly. A few of the morbid curiosity seekers whom he generally found at funerals he’d conducted in the past were also present. They would be present no matter who was being laid away. He caught a glimpse of Rhoda Purdue, but she couldn’t have stayed long, because the next time he looked up, the girl was gone. Reverend Steele had felt from the beginning Rhoda knew more about the affair than she was letting on. But his thoughts were far from being any kind of proof.

  Near the end of the service Buck Rhodes drove his sheriff’s car to the edge of the graveyard and stopped. He didn’t get out of the car, but he lit up a cigar and listened to Reverend Steele’s words and had to smile. All the pretty things he said about the deceased when he hardly knew her except as a passing acquaintance. Buck leaned back on his car seat and watched the undertaker and his assistant close the coffin lid. As many times, over the years, as he had seen that action done, it did little to stop the shudder which suddenly went through his body. To fully cope with the sensation he had to puff quickly on his cigar.

  Reverend Steele lowered his head in silent prayer for a long moment, and when he lifted it again, the service was over. The mourners got into automobiles and started off about their daily business. Life was to continue. Red-eyed from many tears, Millie was the last to turn away from the open grave and the closed casket. She stopped near Reverend Steele.

  “Thank you, Reverend Steele.”

  He took her small hand lightly in both of his. “These things are not easy, Miss Long. At times such as this you must be stronger than ever before. It is the only way we can survive. Do you understand?”

  She looked up, squarely into his eyes. Her voice was low but held a violence of tone Reverend Steele did not expect of the woman. “I only understand my sister is dead! Mutilated and murdered! AND I understand I am being victimized! AND I understand even Harriett’s memory is being violated! Who is to pay for these crimes? We all know the groups who are responsible. But who is to pay? The VICTIMS? It would seem so! Yes, Reverend Steele. I understand.” The tears flooded her eyes again as she turned away.

  Reverend Steele watched her as she walked hurriedly to Undertaker William’s car. The man held the door open for her until she was inside, then got in himself and closed the door. His assistant, who was already behind the wheel, drove the car off.

  The clergyman sighed and walked across to Buck’s police car. “Guess you’re elected to drive me back up town.”

  “Reckon as how I figured that might be the case, Hank. Want a cigar?”

  “Not just now, Buck.”

  “She give you a rough time there.”

  “She’s frightened, Buck, and well she has a right to be.”

  “I deputized Herb Tyler.”

  “The Fire Chief?”

  “Why not. He’s on the town’s payroll, ain’t he? What in hell else has he got to do unless there’s a fire, and how many of them do we have around here? I needed him to watch the Long place, my men have other duties to perform if this town’s going to live through this thing.”

  “Herb’s a good man.”

  “You oughta have a cigar. You look all keyed up.”

  “This kind of a funeral does that to me. You know how it is. Yeah, I’ll have one of your stogies.”

  “In the glove compartment.”

  Reverend Steele opened the glove compartment and took out a cigar, but his eyes also fell on the pint of whiskey secreted there. Buck looked at him, to the bottle, then back again. “Get’s cold at night sometimes,” he smiled, as the Reverend lit up.

  “I didn’t say anything, did I?” grinned the Reverend.

  “But you was thinkin’. Besides, in the car nobody can see I ain’t got a glass to pour it in.”

  The sheriff laughed hard at his own joke, then turned serious as he started the motor and then began the short drive back into town. “I got it fixed up for you to see you
r pride and joy of Lincoln Street.”

  “Jenny Rameriz?”

  “That’s who in hell you wanted to see ain’t it?”

  “When?”

  “Now, if you want.”

  “Let’s go.” Then a quick thought entered his mind. “Do I get to see her alone or are you going to bloodhound me?”

  “Nope! I won’t bloodhound you. Besides, she might tell you something she ain’t tellin’ anybody else.” His eyebrow cocked as he looked to the man beside him. “And you ain’t no priest, so what she tells you, you can damned well tell me.”

  Ten minutes later, Reverend Steele stood looking out through the barred window of a room in the courthouse which had been set aside for his meeting with Jenny Rameriz. And a moment or two later, Jenny was led up from the cellar that doubled as a juvenile detention room. The jailer who ushered her into the room left immediately and closed the door behind him. Reverend Steele turned to face her.

  Jenny was not a pretty girl. Even with heavy make-up she would look like an ordinary plain jane. Her shape left much to be desired and the formless prison dress added yet one more disadvantage to her appearance. It was quite apparent, because of her plainness she had had to fight twice as hard to be accepted as any other more fortunately endowed girl. Wide-spaced teeth gave her feigned smile even more truth to the lie it related. “Glad to see you, Preacher!”

  “Are you, Jenny?”

  “Well, sure! From the old street. A friendly face and all. Gets lonesome down in the cellar with only old Rance the jailer to talk to.”

  “Want to sit down?”

  “Why not?” She looked to the square table and two wooden chairs in the center of the room. “Which side do I take?”

  “Any one you want.”

  “Okay. Right here on my side. That’s where the prisoners always sit in movies. The one nearest the cellblock door. Now ain’t that funny, Preacher? I’m doin’ just like in the movies.” She pulled out the wooden chair and plonked into it.

  Reverend Steele took the chair opposite her and sat down. “Got a cigarette?” she asked, and the Reverend reached into his pocket.

  “I thought you might like one.” He handed her one cigarette from the pack and lit it for her.

  “Now that’s what I call, good, good, good! I didn’t have no money to get any and old Rance wouldn’t spring. Wouldn’t take my word that my old man will bring me some bread later.” She laughed. “Old Rance still thinks bread is something you eat.” She laughed harder. “Man, how can anybody be that dumb?”

  “Rance is an old man.” Then he added slowly, “But don’t try to put one over on him. He’s a tough nut to crack when he wants to be.”

  “Ahh,” she shrugged. “I ain’t gonna pull nothin’ on him. I’m a good little girl and maybe I get less time.”

  “You did shoot Mr. Hemp?”

  “So?”

  “We’ll get nowhere with you answering my questions with another question.”

  “Then stop askin’ damned fool questions and let’s just talk over old times and how you want me to join your sewin’ circle, or whatever it is you wanted me to join. Tell you what, Padre. You get me out of here an’ I’ll join anythin’ you want.”

  “Why, Jenny? Why did you do it?”

  She puffed generously on the cigarette then let the smoke drift out of her mouth and back in through her nostrils. “Ahh, I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know!” exploded the clergyman, then recaptured his poise. “You kill a man, an old man, and you don’t know why? Jenny . . . perhaps you don’t realize the seriousness of your actions.”

  “I know the old fart is dead and I killed him. What more do I have to know. I ain’t the first girl my age that’s gone to prison for doin’ the same thing, and I won’t be the last.”

  “God be with us, but it’s true.”

  “Your damned tootin’ it’s true.” She came forward in her chair and blew the smoke dangerously close to Reverend Steele’s face. “Look, Holy Joe. He caught me at his cash register. What else could I do but shoot him? And with his own gun. Maybe if he didn’t have the gun in the cash drawer I mighta’ just run. But the gun was there and the next thing I knew I was blowin’ his head off.”

  “You needed money so badly you had to kill for it?” The girl went into a sulky silence and Reverend Steele repeated himself. “You needed money so badly you had to kill for it?”

  “Ahh, leave me alone.” She leaned across the table again. “The old fart lived long enough anyway.”

  “How long one lives is up to God alone to decide.”

  “So God decided! And I was the character who put him on the heavenly train.” Suddenly she viciously pushed the left sleeve of her dress high up toward the shoulder. There were dozens of tiny red puncture marks, as if from an extremely sharp needle, clearly visible on her forearm. “See them tracks? It takes a lotta’ gold to keep the supply of H up with my demand.”

  “You’re on heroin, Jenny?”

  “Them tracks ain’t from visitin’ the blood bank. An’ I ain’t tellin’ you somethin’ the fuzz don’t already know. You should of seen them around here early this morning when I needed a shot. I screamed and hollered so loud they thought I was dyin’. They got a real helpful doc around here. He fixed me right up.” She pulled her sleeve back into place and settled in the chair again. “Now go on . . . beat it . . . leave me alone.”

  “Jenny, for a long time it’s going to be very difficult for YOU to be left ALONE. You have a tough road to travel, and you’re going to need a friend or two to walk along it with you . . . that is if you’re going to go the distance.”

  For the first time since they began their interview Jenny became very quiet, as if for the first time realization of her future was slowly taking effect. Her eyes lowered and her fingers nervously entwined through each other. She spoke through loose lips which twitched slightly but noticeably. Her words came out slowly in almost a monotone. “Don’t get the idea I’m scared. I ain’t never been scared in all my life,” she said to the table, then looked up again. She studied the clergyman’s face as she spoke again. “Do . . . do you think they’ll put me away for a long time?”

  Reverend Steele nodded. “Yes, Jenny! For a very long time.”

  “All my life I’ve been a loser! First I was born and my mother died having me. So I lost! Then Pa didn’t want nothin’ to do with me. He’d work a day and booze it up two. Ain’t that a loss? Grandma brought me up with a bamboo cane until she died. The old bitch was mean. Just plain mean. I spit on her grave at the funeral. The priest slapped me so hard I fell into her grave. Now ain’t that somethin’, preacher? Fallin’ in that grave scared hell outta’ me for a long time. I ran away. I was only eleven then. So when they caught me and brought me back, I got the cops’ summer camp for two months. Camp! Ha! A cat-o-nine-tails for supper every night. I lost again! A pound of ass a night and I don’t know how much blood!

  “Then Pa moved in with Ma’s sister, my aunt. That way he could work one day and likker it up three. They shacked up like they was married, but they never did see no preacher to make it legal. Aunt Flossy didn’t like me neither. The bitch! When she wasn’t workin’ she was in the sack with Pa or whoever happened to be handy. She kicked me out of the house most of them times, but there was a big keyhole. I watched until it bored me.” She suddenly became silent as she fought back tears. She nibbled nervously at her lower lip.

  Reverend Steele got up and moved to a water cooler. He drew a paper cup full and took it back to the girl. She took it in her hands but only sipped of the water then set it down upon the table. “When the other girls were datin’ and havin’ fun.” She shook her head. “Not me! I was shook off like I had the crud or somethin’. That’s when I lost most of the things school mighta’ give me. It just ain’t no fun bein’ alone all the time. Then one day I took a long look in the mirror and I got the shock of my life. I guess I really took a good look at myself for the first time . . . I saw an ugly creature starin�
� back at me . . . seein’ me as everybody else was seein’ me . . . an ugly creep. I cried a long time. I walked and I cried. But then I met some kids who didn’t care what I looked like, and there were ways of losin’ yourself and havin’ fun that I never heard of before.

  “In the beginnin’ I didn’t need any money.” She looked Reverend Steele straight in the eyes—hard. “That was in the beginnin’, with weed and bennies. Then those gimmicks did nothin’ for me. That’s the trouble once you get started on the fly gimmicks. You always need something stronger. The first few pops on the H I got for a little sacktime with the boys. Maybe I wasn’t good in the face, but the boys said I was good in bed.” She looked away again. “Then I needed bread and more bread. I was hooked on the stuff and nobody was givin’ me any for sacktime anymore. I had to pay. I didn’t have any gold and there was only one way to get it.” She indicated the room. “Now this. Here I am. For we who are about to die. I read that someplace, I forget where. Maybe in school, I don’t know.”

  She stopped abruptly. She drank the remainder of the water then crossed to the water tank. She crumpled the paper cup and tossed it listlessly into the waste basket. “I’m just a born loser!”

  Reverend Steele leaned back in his chair. He felt as if he had been dragged through a ringer. The girl had bared her soul to him and he felt much like a priest at the confessional. But he was no priest. He was not bound by the vows of the confessional. But he felt bound to inform the girl of that fact before she continued. He spoke softly. “I’m not a priest, Jenny. You know, anything you tell me . . . I am not bound to secrecy.”

  She turned slowly from the water cooler to face him. “That’s alright,” she said. “Everybody knows most of it anyway. Besides. When that old priest slapped me into Grandma’s grave I never went to church again for any reason. I guess I just ain’t got no religion.”

  “Do you want to tell me who was with you?”

  “I think I want to die.”