by Ed Wood
Lila leaned over to pick up both bed pillows. “These will muffle the shot.” She turned her eyes full on the old woman. “Ain’t ya gonna scream so’s I can enjoy your last seconds? Come on, old witch, scream for me.”
Mrs. Purdue stood steadfast, silent, as her eyes fastened with deep sadness upon what was once her loving child. Rhoda’s eyes narrowed as she looked nervously at each of them.
“Gimme the gun,” Lila demanded again.
But Rhoda switched the gun so it covered both women. “You’re not going to kill her, Lila!” Her voice shook nervously and the crotch of her panties became wet from the sudden, uncontrolled dribble from her kidneys. But she meant business with the gun.
“Are you outta’ your mind?”
“Get outta’ the window. Ma’s stayin’ here so you got time to get away.”
“I can’t take off until tonight. You know that.”
Rhoda shrugged. “You’re not killin’ Ma. Now beat it! Beat it while you got time. And Ma, I don’t want to hurt you. Don’t do anything to make me hurt you.”
“Punk, you’re as flaky as that tit eater, Babs. The minute you turn her loose she’s gonna call the fuzz. You’re gonna be in the lock-up right alongside of me.”
“Ma won’t say nothin’!” she snapped. “Now beat it!”
“What about tonight? The boat . . .” She caught herself. “The both of us? Our plans?”
“Take off!” Rhoda’s hands shook nervously. She was frightened but determined, and although Lila might at another time have tried to take the girl, the nervous trigger finger forced her to back down. She went to the window and climbed out.
Rhoda waited until Lila was gone before she spoke to the statue-like figure of her mother. “Is she sayin’ the truth, Ma? You won’t talk to the cops? Not until tomorrow? Give us time to get away?”
“Give me that gun, Rhoda!”
“I can’t . . . not now, Ma.”
“GIVE ME THAT GUN!”
“Ma,” she pleaded. “Ma. Listen to me . . . you don’t have to turn us in. You don’t have to say Lila was here. Let her go. It can’t hurt you none . . . no more. It can’t hurt you to let her go.”
The sadness overwhelmed Mrs. Purdue’s voice. She felt older than her years. Her entire life had collapsed before her eyes in a matter of moments. “Can’t hurt me anymore.” The tears twinkled in her tired old eyes. “Can’t hurt me anymore . . .” Then her voice rose to a screaming pitch. “How soon you have forgotten. LILA KILLED YOUR FATHER!” And with that outburst, Mrs Purdue dived at the gun. Both her hands gripped Rhoda’s hand which held the death-dealing instrument. But her move had been all wrong for safety. She had pulled the gun toward her and the muffled explosion came as the barrel embedded itself into her stomach flesh.
Mrs. Purdue’s eyes held a startled expression as a whisp of smoke drifted up across her face. She winced against the sudden, searing pain. Her eyes closed and she slipped silently to the floor.
Rhoda stood transfixed for another long moment as she held the gun limply in her hand. She let the instrument fall to the floor beside the old woman, then in a state of shock Rhoda bent down, over her.
“Ma! Ma! I didn’t mean it.” She looked horrified to the life-giving red fluid as it pumped out of her mother’s stomach. Then panic took over reason. Rhoda got up and raced out of the room.
Mrs. Purdue’s eyes fluttered open a few minutes later. She fought her mind out of her own state of shock and gripping her stomach tightly with one hand, she staggered to her feet, then made her way to the door.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Reverend Steele had conducted the late afternoon graveside services for Amos Hemp, then, mentally weary from the events of the past few days, he decided a walk in the early evening air might quiet his nerves. He’d had a few ideas he wanted to talk over with Sheriff Buck Rhodes, but the lawman had been away from his usual haunts all day. Sometime during the afternoon he’d visited Miss O’Hara at the hospital. The poor woman was in a horrible condition but the blessings of unconsciousness were merciful to her in relieving her of pain. There would be a surgeon somewhere in the world who, in time, could make her face once more presentable. It would take time.
There was little he could do for the two boys. Not enough left of them for the undertaker to work with. There could only be the few words over closed caskets as he had just done for Mr. Hemp who had no face. Narcotics had strange rewards.
He moved on until the saloons were more frequent and the smells more plentiful. Then in the deep shadows of an alley, across from the Purdue delicatessen, he saw Herb Tyler’s car, so he walked to it.
“Still at it, I see, Herb.”
Herb nodded his head. “Thought you’d be tied up on old Amos’ funeral half the night.”
“Because of the body’s condition and the incident itself, the family decided not to hold a wake. I admit I advised it, but it is much better this way.”
“Our little town’s become a hellion, Hank.”
“So it would appear. Have you heard from Buck lately?”
“Yeah. He’s back at the office. Called me a while back. Told me to stay on here until he could send over a relief man. He left Harry, my regular, out at the mine cabin for the night. Doesn’t want anybody nosing around until he can finish up the investigation in the daylight. You want to talk with him?” Herb indicated his car radio.
“I did earlier. It’ll wait. He has more important things on his mind just now, I’m sure.” Reverend Steele looked across to the delicatessen. “Lila would be a fool to come back here.”
“And I’d say you’re right. Just the younger kid and folks buying things. That’s the way it’s been yesterday and today. Say, you know, if I had a daughter that stayed out like that kid, cussin’ the way she does, I’d kick her ass all over the sidewalk, not just slap her across the puss once.”
Reverend Steele flushed. “You saw that, huh?”
“Couldn’t help it. I don’t know how you took her sass as long as you did.” Then before he could add to his observations, he looked directly through the windshield, across to the delicatessen. “The old lady looks like she’s coming out.”
The clergyman looked across the street. “Excuse me, Herb,” and he moved out quickly to confront Mrs. Purdue as she turned the key in the delicatessen front door with her right hand. Her left hand clutched her side tightly, over a heavy coat she had put on to cover the blood.
“Good evening, Mrs. Purdue,” Reverend Steele greeted, tipping his hat.
Mrs. Purdue gave the clergyman a brief, saddened look, then without speaking she turned and went off down the street, staggering into the darkness. Reverend Steele thought about going after her for a moment, but after she had gone around the far corner, he changed his mind and recrossed the street to Herb’s car. “Get Buck on that thing, Herb.”
Buck’s car sped into the dirty street with siren blaring moments after he received Steele’s call for assistance. The inhabitants of the street scurried from their holes like lice from a beaten mattress. Their eyes watched nervously as Buck swung quickly out of his side door and Reverend Steele, with Herb, crossed to join him. “What do you think it’s all about Hank?”
“I don’t know, Buck. That’s why I thought you’d better get out here. There’s something mighty wrong when Mrs. Purdue acts as she did. She looked bad, real bad, Buck. Staggered off that way,” he pointed to the corner.
“No tellin’ which way she went once she got ’round that there corner.” He turned to look to the store. “Let’s take a look inside.”
“She’s locked the door.”
“I got a pass key for every joint in the town. Come on!”
Herb put his hand lightly on Buck’s shoulder. “How about a search warrant? Nothing wrong . . . old lady Purdue can get mighty huffy. She might not like us going in there.”
“When’s a search warrant ever stopped me from doing what I set out to do Herb? Come on!”
Herb shrugged, then with Reverend St
eele, he followed Buck to his car where he took out a pass key, then the three men made their way to the delicatessen and entered.
The bright lights inside reflected against fresh blood spots on the floor as they trailed toward the stairway. Buck leaned over and scraped his finger lightly across the sticky fluid. “Blood alright,” he remarked. Then he stood up and looked to the back stairway. They started for it.
Rhoda’s room proved their suspicions. Buck picked up the pistol with a handkerchief and handed it to Herb who carefully secreted it into his pocket.
“Somebody’s been hurt badly,” clucked the reverend, “and it’s my guess that somebody was Mrs. Purdue.”
“If it is,” sighed Buck, “she’s runnin’ mighty low on blood, judgin’ from the size of that spot there.”
Herb walked the window, attracted by the hook affixed there. “What’s this thing?” He pulled up the rope ladder.
Buck crossed to take the knotted rope in his hand. “Unless I miss my guess, that’s the way Lila has been getting in and out of this room so unseen. The alley is blocked on the street side and ties into a building on the next street. She goes through a door or windows in the building, then who can tell how she winds her way back to the streets, or the desert.”
“She said if she ever got the chance she’d get even with the old lady,” reflected Herb.
“And chances are nobody heard the shot or it would have been reported by now,” determined Buck.
“No one but Mrs. Purdue and those in the room,” said Reverend Sleele.
“Couldn’t have been the young girl,” remembered Herb. “She lit out of here more than half an hour ago. I got the exact time on my notes in the car.”
“Herb,” ordered Buck. “Get on your radio. Have my deputy Bob cruise the south part of town. And have him tell Doc Gibbons to stand by in case I need him right quick.”
Herb silently turned on his heels and walked quickly out of the room.
“Buck,” said Reverend Steele when Herb was gone. “It hit me last night the same as it has hit me tonight. I’m talking about the lack of juveniles, especially the girls, on the street tonight. They were gone last night, and we know now what happened. Tonight is beginning to hold the same feeling, the same atmosphere.”
“I hadn’t noticed it, but then I haven’t been on the streets all day. But, we’re not doing any good up here. Let’s go down and have a look around. I saw Jockey in the crowd when we came up, and if anybody knows anything about anything, it will be Jockey.”
Jockey and Chief were standing just outside the front door of the delicatessen as Buck and Reverend Steele approached them. “Is somebody hurt?” asked Jockey, honestly concerned.
“It is possible,” reflected Reverend Steele.
“Jockey, do you get the feelin’ all ain’t right on the street tonight?” questioned Buck as he lit a cigar.
Jockey nodded his head. “Same’s last night, Sheriff. The kids are gone again.”
“Then you have noticed it.” stated Reverend Steele.
“Who could help it?”
Buck let a cloud of smoke trail off into the breeze. “Any rumbles of what they might be up to?”
He shook his head. “I guess I’m usually the first to grab onto a rumble, Sheriff, but I ain’t heard one word on this one, or the one last night, if that’s what it was. You can bet one thing. It’s too quiet tonight for a healthy climate.”
Buck and the Reverend turned to walk off as Chief drew Jockey out of earshot of the crowd.
“Party,” uttered the giant Indian.
Jockey looked to his cook with deep concern. “You hear somethin’ Chief?”
The big man shrugged his broad shoulders. “Don’t know what good I hear. Hear girl get in jalopy, tell boy must get back quick. Party on boat. Tonight. No boys.”
Jockey’s face became elated. He snapped his fingers as realization gained a foothold in his brain. “You got it, Chief . . . Lark . . . that lousy crumbum bastard Lark. Come on! We gotta find the boat he came in on.”
“You think lousy crumbum bastard Lark come here on boat?”
“How else do you suppose he brings in that stuff he peddles? It don’t swim in from down Mexico way.”
“We’ll get the cops!”
“First we make sure,” said Jockey, and started off quickly down the street, with Chief following, in the direction of the docks beyond the red-light district. Momentarily it appeared Chief would stop when they passed Buck and Reverend Steele at the police car, but he continued on as Jockey had previously directed.
“We’re reasonably sure Lila is in the area,” said the sheriff. “And we know she used to be leader of the Chicks before she got sent up. And all the Chicks have took off for the tall timbers tonight . . .”
“I’d hazard a guess, Buck, that Mrs. Purdue may have found out their plans. Lila wouldn’t have risked a shot in that old barn they call home, unless she was forced into it.”
“Well, let’s figure it out, padre. What would be such an important plan as to risk that shot!” Buck’s words had not formed a question. “So we can put a few things together. Miss Long was killed because she overheard about a shipment of dope. Miss O’Hara is in bad shape because, at least on the face of it, she caught a coupla’ boys puffin’ pot on the school grounds. Probably Lonnie and Rick from her earlier description. Then Lonnie and Rick are blown to bits with what they thought was their fix candle . . .”
“I didn’t know that, Buck!” interrupted the Reverend in complete surprise.
“Nobody does. Except we cops and the killer. Anyway, it all leads to one thing . . .”
“Dope,” said Reverend Steele knowingly.
“Right! Now we know it was meant to come up the coast by boat. But what boat? And what in hell have the kids to do with it, and more than that, where does Lila fit in, since she only got out of prison two nights ago?”
“Perhaps it is as you indicated before. Once, she was the leader of the Chicks, and it is a good possibility the Chicks are going to have something to do with transporting the stuff. Rhoda is a Chick. It wouldn’t be very hard for Lila to get anything out of Rhoda she wanted. I found out, last night, for certain, that Rhoda is a user.”
“I guessed as much.” He turned to look off in the direction of the Gulf, which could not be seen from where they stood. “But how to find out? There’s a lot of water out there. A million places for a small boat to row into and get away. It would take us days to search every boat, even if they did have a gang of kids on it. They won’t be yellin’ and screamin’ to let us know just where they’re at. And if we did hear some party sounds I’d bet you another five to one they’d be decoys on trespassed boats.”
“I’ve got an idea.”
“Spill it, Hank.”
“Can you arrange for me to see Jenny again? Right now?”
“It’s pretty late, but—sure I can arrange it. What have you got in mind?”
“Just a hunch so far.”
“And I’m gettin’ your hunch. She was a Chick?”
“She’s on the stuff.”
“You sure?”
“Certain. That morning she was still on the effects. But it wore off. Doc Gibbons told me this afternoon at the hospital that he had to fix her up this morning.” He paused briefly. “And she showed me her arm marks.”
“Why wasn’t I told?”
“You’ve been out all day.”
“Yeah! Yeah, that’s right. Okay, I’ll fix it up, but this time I go with you.”
“Of course.” Then he got a twinkle in his eye. “But why don’t you let me talk to her first? We got along quite well before, and I might be able to promise her a few things you couldn’t, and you wouldn’t be held accountable for.”
“That ain’t honest, Reverend.”
“Dope isn’t honest either,” said Reverend Steele solidly.
The two men got into the police car and while they drove to the court-house Buck put in his radio call to Judge Detler, who gave perm
ission for the interview but also cautioned Buck that anything she said could not be used as evidence against the girl unless her lawyer was present. Since Jenny had no lawyer and would most probably fall a burden of the state with the expense of a public defender, Buck said “Okay Judge. We’ll work it this way. Reverend Steele will make the interview and I’ll stay out of it altogether.”
When Buck hung up the radio-phone he looked back to his friend. “Okay Hank, it’s your show again.”
Jenny was sleepy-eyed as old Rance brought her into the room, then departed again. “What you want with me? I was sleepin’.”
“Very early for that, Jenny.”
“Might be on the outside. But in here, ain’t nothin’ to do but sleep. What you want anyway?”
“I want to know what the Chicks had on for tonight.”
“Clothes,” she snapped, then laughed.
“Make it easier or tougher on yourself.”
“How the hell do I know? I’m in here. They’re outside.”
Reverend Steele started to get up from his chair. “Okay, have it your way Jenny.”
She thought it over quickly. “Easier, you say?”
“Cooperation always makes things go easier in a courtroom.”
“You promise?”
“I promise to help you as much as I can.”
“Alright . . . but it ain’t a whole lot.”
A few minutes later, Reverend Steele joined Buck in the squad car outside the court-house. “What’d you find out?” asked Buck anxiously.
“Some things, but not enough. First of all, remember back to the fall and winter when you had that epidemic of shoplifting on your hands. It was the Chicks. They have specially built clothing for handling merchandise. Hidden pockets and seams that aren’t seams, things like that. Double skirts and hollow falsies . . .”
“And those hidden elements are so easily converted to the purpose of carrying narcotics . . .”
“Right. They pick it up usually at some innocent enough appearing teenage party, such as on a boat, the girls fill their clothing and bring it ashore to a dump. Who would suspect a bunch of teenagers, especially girls, leaving a party to be transporters of a major supply of narcotics? The boat, this time, is mostly my idea. Jenny didn’t know anything except that a boat was supposed to be on the way and it had been done that way before. But whose boat or where, she didn’t know. She couldn’t know anything about tonight’s action because she’s been in jail almost since the action started.”