Devil Girls

by Ed Wood

  “It only proved out our suspicions. What’d you promise her for the information?”

  “That things would go easier for her.”

  “That will be hard to make come true. There’s only one punishment for murder handed out by Judge Gibbons.”

  “She wasn’t worried about court or her punishment. She wanted to make sure it would be easier for her while she waited . . . I’ll have to send Doc Gibbons over to see her.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jockey and Chief hid in the shadows of a warehouse on the dock as they looked out over the dark waters of the Gulf beyond. There were many well-lighted yachts in the harbor; some big, some small, and some form of music issued from nearly all of them.

  “Hard to find,” muttered Chief.

  “Ain’t gonna be easy. But I know what his boat looks like. All we gotta do is get close enough so’s I can lamp it.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Swim if we have to.”

  “No swim! Me desert Indian, not water Indian.”

  Jockey laughed lightly. “Guess we’ll have to find a boat in that case.”

  “Where?”

  “Some of the guys always tie up at the end of the pier when they come into town. Wouldn’t surprise me none if we find what we want right there.”

  “Ugh,” muttered Chief harshly, then followed Jockey’s footsteps, keeping in the deep shadows, towards the end of the pier.

  It was as Jockey had surmised. Several small dinghies with outboard motors were tied to various pilings below the pier. He motioned for Chief to wait where he was, then climbed down a rickety ladder to the water level catwalk. For some minutes he went about opening gas tanks and testing the level of gas in them. Finally he was satisfied when he withdrew a completely wet forefinger from one. “I got a full one,” he called in a harsh whisper to the chief. “Come on down.”

  The ladder nearly gave way under Chief’s excessive weight as he descended, but the water level catwalk had enough spring to give with the weight. Chief made sure, however, of his footing with each step he took, until he stood near Jockey, who was trying to untie a knot in the fat mooring rope. Chief, quickly sensing the little man’s problem, took the rope in both hands and with one quick jerk, tore the hemp in two. Jockey gave him a pat on the back approvingly, then got into the boat and moved to the outboard motor in the stern where he started adjusting the lanyard around the motor wheel.

  Chief looked to the skimpy boat, then took much more care in getting into it, and even so, his weight sunk the gunnels dangerously close to the water line. He eased his way to the center seat so that the boat was more evenly distributed around him.

  Jockey had felt sure they were both in for a cold saltwater bath when he saw the bow dip, but he breathed easier as the boat levelled off with Chief in the middle and sitting, frightened, frozen to the spot. The little man grabbed the lanyard tightly and gave it a swift, snapping pull. The motor exploded into sudden life and the dark waters churned up under the keel and the propeller. Satisfied the motor was delivering properly, he turned the bow toward the yachts and fishing boats far out in the harbor, where nestled among a group of fishing boats rested the solid black trawler, The Phantom.

  Lark had named his boat well. Its dull ebony finish could glide by coastguard vessels within a few hundred yards at night and not be seen. Many were the times it had appeared on radar screens, yet could not be seen with the naked eye or telescope; it blended so well with the black waters and moonless nights. By the same token, Lark never made narco trips during moonlit nights. On such nights, the black Phantom stood out as a giant bird of prey against the lighter sky.

  Throughout the evening Lark had been nervous due to the gang’s uncalled-for activities. If it hadn’t been for the fact he had already designated to his superiors where and when the drop would be, he would have called off the whole thing, hoisted anchor and sailed elsewhere along the coast. But he was also fearful his superiors would get the impression he couldn’t handle his end of things—a bunch of snotty-nosed kids.

  His eyes pressed across the fan tail towards the shore line for a time, then he would change their direction towards the open sea and back again. Over and over he repeated the operation. If a ship, large or small, came anywhere close to his position, he tensed up and came forward in his chair, his hand hanging close to the deck beside him where he had a submachine gun loaded and ready for use. He would settle back when the boat had gone, but the tension never completely left him. All his orders were carried out through his second, Claude, who made frequent trips to the bridge to report or to get further orders.

  Around ten-thirty, Claude made his way up the ship’s ladder in an angry mood. “Boss, that sister of Lila’s ain’t cooperatin’ one damned bit.”

  Lark looked to the man with hard eyes. “What’s the matter with her?”

  “Who knows? Can’t even get her to talk. She just sits around sulkin’. Words go in one ear and out the other like she don’t give a goddamn about nothin’.”

  “Okay. Send Lila up here.” Claude started off but stopped as Lark called him back. “And get your wet suit on. I’m sendin’ you down now.”

  Claude looked to his wristwatch. “It’s only ten-thirty. You ain’t figurin’ on gettin’ the stuff ’til midnight.”

  “So I changed my mind.”

  “So I get ready.” Claude shrugged and left the bridge.

  Below decks he found Lila sitting alone in the small kitchen with a double shot of whiskey in front of her. “You and that sister of yours have a fight?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Boss don’t like it.”

  “She’s damned lucky I haven’t tossed her over the side.”

  “Boss don’t want no trouble aboard. He wants to see you, and right now.”

  Lila slugged down the whiskey then walked slowly through the short corridor, then climbed to the deck. She looked up to Lark on the bridge above her. “You want me?”

  “Come up here. I don’t want to be shouting all over the harbor.”

  Lila took hold of the ladder and climbed up. A moment later she stood beside Lark. “So?”

  “What’s eating your sister?”

  “She’s got troubles. Me!”

  “I don’t want trouble aboard my ship.”

  “There won’t be any. Only reason she’s here is because she ain’t got no place else to go. The old lady knows she was in on the kill last night.”

  “And the old lady will squawk on her as she did you?”

  “Sure. Only I’m going to Mexico with you. She finds her own way out of town. When I give an order I want it obeyed, no matter who it is.”

  “You’re a rough one, Lila.”

  “I told her to lay the old lady out. She turned the gun on me.”

  “Well look. I need her to carry some of the stuff ashore. Leave her in one piece until after that, then I don’t care what you do with her.”

  “Sure,” said Lila coldly.

  “Soon’s you talk to her, get your girls ready. I’m pushing the drop forward. Claude’s gone to get the stuff now.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I’ve got a false keel in the bow. It’s all in waterproof bags in the keel.” He beamed in pride. “Claude will bring it up.”

  Lila nodded her approval and went down the ladder again to the deck where she encountered two of her girls looking out over the water toward the dark horizon. “Either of you see Rhoda?”

  The girls turned toward her as one said. “Yeah, she went into the toilet on the starboard side.”

  Lila slapped the girl a vicious blow across the mouth. “That’s for bein’ a wiseguy.” And she stormed off along the starboard deck while the girl frantically rubbed the pain from the side of her face.

  As Lila put her hand out to grab the knob, Rhoda pushed open the head door from the inside. “I’ve been lookin’ for you, punk,” said Lila.

  “You want to kill me?”

  “I ain’t got
time. Look, Lark don’t like the way you been actin’. So now pull yourself together. You got a job to do, and by Christ I’m gonna see that you do it.”

  “Take me with you, Lila. Take me to Mexico with you.”

  “Are you kiddin’? It’s only lucky Lark is takin’ me. You beat it on back. Maybe Ma won’t turn you in.”

  “She don’t have to. I shot Ma!”

  The surprise of the statement rocked Lila. “You did what?”

  “Just after you left. I shot Ma!” The tears came to her eyes quickly. “I shot her dead.”

  Lila took a marijuana cigarette and a match from her pocket. She put it between her sister’s lips. “For that, maybe even I can forgive you. Here. Take some of this.” She held the match out for the younger girl to light up.

  Rhoda lit up and breathed deeply. “It was an accident. Just after you left she dived for me. We fought a little and the gun went off. She went down. Blood all over her. I didn’t mean it. But I did it. She just laid there on the floor near the bed. She was so still. I knew she was dead right there and then.”

  Lila grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. Accident or no accident. Guess that really makes us sisters again. Two of a kind, we are. I did in the old man and now you lay out the old lady.”

  “How can you be so cold about it?”

  “How else should I be? I wanted to do it all along. I’ll even forget you turning the gun on me. I’ll always wonder if you really would have used it on me. And maybe you would. You’re a killer now, and a killer has to kill.” She took the weed from Rhoda’s lips and inhaled deeply herself, then put it back between Rhoda’s lips again. “Well, it’s done. Why worry ourselves into an early grave alongside of them? Besides, what in hell good were they? What did they ever do for us except feed us tons of salami? Give either of them another fifty years and what could they have done for us? You damned well know what.” She let a broad grin pass across her features. “I think we did them a big favor by puttin’ them out of their misery.”

  Rhoda wiped the tears onto the arm of her cashmere sweater. “Maybe that’s the way you think, Lila. But something inside of me hurts . . . hurts bad . . .”

  Lila indicated the marijuana cigarette in Rhoda’s free hand. “Take another blast off that thing. You’ll lose all your hurts in a coupla’ minutes. In fact, take a couple of real quick blasts. That makes things seem not so bad even quicker.” She turned to the open deck again. “Wait here where I can find you. I gotta tell Lark that everything’s alright.” Then she made her way back midship again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Jockey cut his motor some distance from The Phantom as soon as he recognized the trawler as the quarry for which he looked. Chief still hung on to the gunnels for dear life, still frightened of making the slightest move and turning over the boat. However, as the motor died, he ventured to turn his head slightly in Jockey’s direction. “Gas gone?”

  “No Chief. And keep your voice down. Sound carries a long way over water. I cut the motor off for that reason. We’re gonna sneak up on that bunch. Maybe that way we got a chance of not gettin’ shot at.”

  “How boat go no gas motor?”

  “Arm power! See them oars by your feet?”

  Chief looked down toward his feet. “Oars?”

  “Them long heavy sticks!”

  “Uh! Chief see.”

  “Well, put them in the locks there on each side of the boat and row.”

  “Like canoe?”

  “That’s right. And don’t splash the water any more than you have to. We want to make like quiet . . . all quiet . . .”

  “Chief know.”

  A moment later, Jockey found to his pleasant surprise Chief handled the oars like an expert. The small boat cut the black waters smoothly and silently. “Head for the bow, Chief.”

  “Where that?”

  Jockey pointed. “Up that way. Where the anchor chain is.”

  Chief nodded. “Okay! No talk no more. Too close!”

  Jockey smiled appreciatively, then kept his eyes steadfast on The Phantom. He could make out two dark figures on the bridge but couldn’t tell who they were. However, since it was the bridge, he surmised one was Lark. He cursed the man under his breath. He knew he could immediately turn his little dinghy around and head for shore and the police, but the excitement of the chase caressed his better judgment into submission. The courage of a James Bond filled his entire frame. He could read future headlines bigger than he’d ever gotten for the races he had ridden and won. If only he could capture the smugglers single-handed; with Chief of course. “Bare hands against tommy guns,” he mused to himself, pleased with himself.

  He remained thus engrossed as Chief reached up to grab the anchor chain as their dinghy passed under it. Jockey shook his head to lose the daydream, but not the spirit of adventure. As silent as a cat he climbed hand over hand up the anchor chain until he planted his feet firmly on a small portion of the deck which extended beyond the guard rail. The little man ducked down behind the guard rail and siding as he watched Chief, belying his weight, climb the anchor chain with as much ease as he himself had done. But the deck extension was nowhere near wide enough to support Chief. The big Indian used it only to hoist himself over the railing. Jockey followed immediately after him, then they both froze in their tracks as they looked down the muzzle of Claude’s pistol.

  “Lookin’ for more plate-glass windows?” he said.

  Chief’s big hands and arms went up over his head. He growled and was about to charge both man and gun, but Jockey put a heavy hand on his wide girth. “Not now, Chief. It ain’t worth gettin’ shot up for.”

  “Now that’s real smart of you, little man.”

  “You should be so smart.”

  Claude laughed cynically at Jockey, then without turning his head in that direction, he shouted to Lark. “Hey, Lark!”

  Lark, on the bridge, turned in his chair. “What do you want, Claude?” He could not see the action behind him, at the bow.

  “Look what came out of the water with me.”

  Lark looked lazily at Lila. “See what in hell’s goin’ on down there.”

  Lila moved to the bridge railing and looked to the bow, then she turned back to the man. “You better have a look. We got unexpected visitors aboard.”

  Lark got out of his chair and went to join Lila. His eyes opened wide at what he saw. “Keep that gun on them. I’ll be right down.”

  “They ain’t goin’ no place,” shouted Claude.

  Lark turned to Lila. “Keep an eye on the shoreline and the docks. You see lights of any kind, automobile, boats, even more dock lights than what’s on now, let me know.”

  “Sure, Lark.”

  Lark swiftly climbed down to the deck and made his way to the bow where he stood next to Claude. “I saw their boat above me when I was comin’ up with the stuff, so I came up on the other side and waited for them.”

  “That’s good work.”

  Claude narrowed his eyes. “I wonder who is gonna throw who out a window this time.”

  Chief growled. “I show.”

  Jockey again put a restrained hand on Chief’s belly. “Hold it, Chief. We ain’t got no window out here.”

  “Bright boy’s got a sense of humor,” sneered Claude. He cocked the pistol. “Say your prayers.”

  “Not here. Not yet,” said Lark. Then he put his hands defiantly on his hips. “First, you don’t like the idea of joining my business venture. Then here you are crashing a private party on my private property. What’s with you, Jockey? You got holes in your head since you retired?”

  “He WILL have holes in his head,” informed Claude.

  “You got a lot of witnesses round here tonight,” said Jockey factually.

  “Embarrassed at dying in front of an audience? From what I remember of your race days, you ought to be able to do a real good performance.”

  “Witnesses are witnesses,” smiled Jockey, but the smile was not one of pleasure.

 
; Lark frowned. “Hate to admit you’re right, but you are.”

  Claude snapped his eyes to Lark. “You ain’t thinkin’ of lettin’ them go?”

  “That would be silly, wouldn’t it Claude? Act your age.”

  “Then what do we do with them?”

  Lark began to pace back and forth behind Claude so that he did not interfere with Claude’s aim. When he had a plan in mind he stopped pacing and looked directly at the two captives. “First of all, it would take too much time to get all the kids off the ship in the little boat. Too many trips back and forth. I’m going to chance taking this tub to the dock, get the kids off and head out into the Gulf just as fast as we can make it.”

  “The fuzz’ll grab us for sure.”

  “If they were onto us, they’d be here now. My guess is Jockey hit onto a lucky guess. He knew my boat from a long time ago. But there isn’t any telling how long it will be before something else does give the cops a hint. I want that stuff ashore. It’s our necks if it isn’t at the drop tonight. We make one dash in, get the girls off and get out of there.”

  Claude wiggled the gun at Jockey and Chief. “What’s to keep them from makin’ a break for it once we’re on the dock?”

  Lark directed his gaze at Jockey. “Two very good reasons. If we start shooting, a stray bullet might hit one of those girls. And the other, I’d gun them down before they could move a foot. It’s human nature to want to live as long as possible. In their minds will always be the thought of a possible escape. The longer they are alive, the more chance they think they will have. I think the kids are the best reason they won’t try it, however. Jockey wouldn’t want any of them hurt—now would you Jockey?”