Lepski reared back as if he had trodden on a viper.
‘Clues? Don’t tell me you’ve been visiting that whisky sodden old hag again?’
Carroll gave him a cold stare.
‘Mehitabel Bessinger is not a whisky sodden old hag! She is a brilliant, shrewd clairvoyant! Remember she gave you two vital clues to that killer last year, and you were stupid enough to ignore them! Remember?’
Lepski groaned, then dashed into the living room, jerked open the door of the liquor cabinet and found his, bottle of Cutty Sark missing. Muttering, he dragged his tie loose, crumpled it and flung it on the floor.
Carroll appeared in the doorway.
‘There are times, Lepski,’ she said coldly, ‘when I think you have been badly brought up.’
This was such an unexpected attack that Lepski gaped at her.
‘Stop acting like a spoilt child and listen to me,’ Carroll said.
‘My Cutty Sark! It’s gone!’
‘Never mind about that! Anyway, Lepski, you drink too much! Now, listen to me! Mehitabel has solved this sex maniac case. You want to solve it, don’t you? You want to become Chief of Police, don’t you?’
Lepski walked slowly to an armchair and sank into it.
He rested his head in his hands.
‘Yeah . . . yeah. So the old rum-dum has solved the case!’
‘You are not to call Mehitabel an old rum-dum. Now, listen. She looked into her crystal ball and she has given me three clues. She said first you must look for a blood red moon. Second, you must look for a black sky. Third, you must look for an orange beach. Then, and not before, you will find this maniac.’
Lepski lifted his head from his hands and gaped at his wife. ‘A blood red moon? A black sky? An orange beach?’
‘That’s what she said.’
Lepski released a whistle that could have stopped a train.
‘Did she give that out before or after she had emptied my bottle of Cutty Sark?’
‘Lepski! Pay attention! Mehitabel can be relied on! You now have three vital clues,’ Carroll said. ‘It’s up to your intelligence to use them.’
‘Yeah.’ Lepski sank back in his chair. ‘Sure. A blood red moon, huh? A black sky, huh? An orange beach, huh?’
He closed his eyes and made a noise like a bee trapped in a bottle. ‘That old hag certainly dishes it out, doesn’t she? I could do the same for a bottle of Cutty Sark.’ Then he stiffened and sniffed. ‘What’s burning?’
Carroll suppressed a scream and dashed into the kitchen.
Fearing the worst, Lepski moaned to himself. Then Carroll called, ‘Your dinner is ruined! It’s all your fault! You talk too much!’
Heavy footed, Lepski walked into the smoke-laden kitchen and stared at the burned mess in the pan.
‘No chicken in mushroom and cream sauce?’
‘After all the trouble I have taken!’ Carroll began opening a can of beans. ‘When will you learn to stop talking?’
‘Is that what we are going to eat?’ Lepski shouted, eyeing the can of beans. ‘How about that cold beef in the refrigerator? How about that?’
‘That’s for Sunday.’
‘Who the hell cares about Sunday? I’m starving!’
‘Don’t shout at me, Lepski.’ But she took the beef from the refrigerator. ‘Anyway, Lepski, you eat too much.’
‘Yeah. I’ve heard that before. So I eat too much. Who the hell cares?’
‘Remember the three clues I’ve given you,’ Carroll said as she began to cut up the meat. ‘I know they will solve the case.’
‘Sure . . . sure. Let’s eat for God’s sake!’
* * *
The time was 23.00.
Ken sat in a lounging chair, more than drunk. He had returned home after work, and was in such a state of panic, he couldn’t bring himself to cook a dinner. Any moment, he kept telling himself, there would be a ring at the bell, and Lepski would be there to quiz him about the missing button. He had taken a bottle of Scotch from the liquor cabinet, poured himself a big drink and had sat down to wait.
He would have to tell Lepski the whole sordid story. He was sure the story would leak. Then there was Boone. He was sure Boone would post the blackmailing letters. It was all very well for Karen to say she could handle her father, but he was sure Sternwood would get rid of him. Then there was Betty!
He took another drink.
His life had come to a standstill. It was in ruins!
Then he heard the doorbell ring.
Lepski!
He got unsteadily to his feet. The end of his road, he told himself.
He walked from the living room, into the lobby, and bracing himself, he opened the front door.
Karen said, ‘Let me in quick. No one has seen me,’ and she pushed by him as he hastily shut the front door.
He stared at her.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘Man! Have you been drinking!’ Karen said, and hip-swished into the living room.
She was wearing a tight-fitting, emerald green frock.
Her breasts pointed at him as he stood in the doorway, bewildered and trying to focus.
‘What is it? Why are you here?’
‘Look.’ She held out her hand. In her palm was a golf ball button.
Ken peered.
‘That’s what you want, isn’t it?’ she said, smiling at him.
‘I told you I would fix it.’
Ken came into the room. The sight of the button, lying on her palm, slightly sobered him.
‘Where did it come from?’
She laughed.
‘No problem. I went to Levine’s shop. They were busy. I cut the button off one of his jackets, then I walked out. They didn’t even notice me. No problem. They’ll think the button fell off. Pleased?’
Ken reached for the button. He suddenly felt ten years younger.
Her fingers closed over the button as she continued to smile at him.
‘Where’s your bedroom, Ken? Let’s celebrate,’ and with a quick movement, she was out of her dress, standing, naked before him. ‘A button for a screw,’ she said. ‘Fair enough?’
Ken looked at her.
Just for a brief moment he reminded himself this was Betty’s home as well as his. The bed was Betty’s as well as his. The Scotch destroyed these reminders. He saw only this beautiful, sensually built body.
Catching hold of her, he guided her along the corridor to the bedroom.
five
The sound of persistent ringing on his front door bell brought Ken abruptly awake. As he sat up, what felt like a hammer crashed inside his head. He groaned, clutching his head in his hands. He threw off the sheets as the ringing of the bell persisted, swung his feet onto the bedside mat, still holding his head, his eyes shut.
The bell continued to ring, driving hot wires through his head.
God! he thought, I must have been good and drunk last night! Who the hell is this? What’s the time?
He forced his eyes to open. Sunshine was streaming into the room. His eyes went to the bedside clock. 08.15!
As he staggered to his feet, his head expanded and contracted and again he released a groan.
Goddamn that bell!
He found he was naked. He reached for and put on his dressing gown.
‘What’s the excitement about?’ Karen asked from the bed.
He spun around and stared at her. She was sitting up, naked, and blinking in the sunshine.
A wave of horror ran through him. Last night came into focus. He now remembered she had given him the button and they had gone to bed together. He had been far too drunk to remember what happened, but he could guess.
What the hell was happening to him? To have taken this little bitch into Betty’s bed! The horror of doing such a thing sobered him.
‘Someone’s at the door,’ he said feverishly. ‘Get out of sight!’
‘Poor Kenny,’ Karen jeered as she slid out of bed. ‘Always in a panic.’
He went
unsteadily down the corridor and jerked open the front door. Standing on the doorstep was Lepski, with Max Jacoby behind him.
Ken stared at them. The hammer inside his head increased its blows. He was suddenly wildly angry.
‘What the hell do you want?’ he shouted.
Lepski looked him over. Boy! he thought, has this creep had a night out!
‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Brandon,’ he said in his cold cop voice. ‘I want to talk more about those golf ball buttons.’
Ken fought down his fury. He had to be careful. In a milder voice, he said, ‘I was going to call you this morning. I’ve found the buttons. Look I’m late. I overslept. I have to get to work.’
Lepski squinted at him.
‘You found them?’
‘They were in my wife’s button box. I looked and found them.’
Lepski made a suggestive move forward.
‘Can I see them, Mr. Brandon?’
Ken stepped back, wondering where Karen was. He led the two detectives into the living room, went to the button box, then remembered he had left the buttons in his jacket pocket.
‘Wait!’ he said, and went to the bedroom. Karen was out of sight. He guessed she would be in the bathroom. He snatched up his jacket which was lying on a chair as Lepski came to the doorway.
Lepski saw at once that two people had been occupying the big bed. Both pillows were indented.
Taking the buttons from the jacket pocket, Ken moved forward, crowding Lepski back.
‘Here they are. Now for God’s sake, stop bothering me!’
Lepski counted the buttons, then as Ken continued to move forward, he allowed himself to be directed back to the living room.
‘They seem to be all here, Mr. Brandon,’ Lepski said.
‘I’d like to see the jacket again.’
Ken dashed back to the bedroom, snatched the jacket from the closet, then returned to the living room. He thrust the jacket at Lepski.
Lepski counted the buttons, found none missing and was baffled.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I hope I don’t have to trouble you again.’
‘I don’t see why you should. You’ve caused me enough trouble!’ Ken snapped.
Lepski gave him his wolfish smile.
‘This is a murder investigation, Mr. Brandon. Odd things happen. Do you mind if I take the jacket and the duplicate buttons? I won’t keep them long.’
‘Take them! I don’t want to see the jacket ever again! Throw it away!’ Ken exclaimed, nearly beside himself.
‘You’ll feel better after a strong coffee,’ Lepski said. ‘I’ll return the jacket,’ and nodding to Jacoby, he let himself out.
Ken slammed the front door and locked it, then he went back to the bedroom.
Karen was dressed and combing her hair before Betty’s mirror. The sight of her using Betty’s comb sickened him.
‘Your little pals satisfied?’ she asked.
‘I was drunk!’ Ken exploded. ‘I—’
‘All right, all right,’ Karen said and laughed. ‘Don’t vent your guilty conscience on me. You never stopped screwing me all night! I told you the reservoir would fill up.’
Ken felt like killing her. He went into the bathroom, slammed the door, shaved hurriedly. Not bothering to shower, he returned to the bedroom and flung on his clothes. He could hear Karen in the kitchen.
‘Want coffee?’ she called.
He put on his loafers, then went into the kitchen. She had just made a pot of coffee. She poured and sipped.
‘Hmm . . . nice. Have a cup?’
‘I want you out of here!’ he said violently.
‘Oh, do shut up!’ There was a snap in her voice. ‘You creeps with hot pants are all the same. Once you’ve had it, you turn into saints. You’d better get the bed fixed: telltale evidence,’ and she giggled. ‘Get everything to the laundry.’ She finished the coffee. ‘Don’t stand there like a constipated camel! Come on! I’ll help you.’
Ken suddenly remembered the cleaning woman would be arriving at 09.00. He hurried into the bedroom and stripped off the sheets and pillow slips. Using fresh sheets, they remade the bed. He bundled the soiled sheets together. ‘Let’s get out of here!’
‘Look out of the window, dope,’ she said. ‘How are you going to get me out without me being seen?’
Ken peered out of the window. His next door neighbour, a retired banker, was pottering in his garden. Ken stood for a moment, panic riding him. How the hell was he going to get Karen away without her being seen?
‘Relax,’ she said. ‘Come on! I’ll get in the back of the car, you put the sheets on top of me, then drive out. Let’s go.’
That’s what they did.
Sweating, Ken waved to his neighbour as he drove out of the garage and then onto the road. When he reached the highway, Karen emerged and sat on the back seat.
Not speaking, Ken finally pulled up outside the office.
‘You get started on the mail,’ Karen said, getting out of the car. ‘I’ll take the sheets to Chan’s.’
Ken felt helpless. Karen was so overpoweringly efficient. As she walked away, he unlocked the office door and collected the mail. He went into his office and sat down at his desk.
His head still throbbed. He was so sick of himself he just sat there, feeling waves of guilt running through him.
The telephone bell started up. Pulling himself together, he lifted the receiver.
‘Paradise Assurance Corporation. Can I help you?’
‘Ken?’
The sound of Betty’s voice was like a blow under his heart.
‘Hi, Betty!’ His voice was a croak.
‘Darling, Daddy’s sinking.’ Betty’s voice was unsteady. ‘The doctors now say there isn’t much hope. He keeps asking for you.’
Ken closed his eyes. To him, Betty’s father was like his own father. This news drove blood from his face.
‘I’ll be with you on the first plane out. Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.’
‘I’ve checked the planes. There’s one at 10.30. Can you make it?’
‘I’ll make it. I’ll rush home and pack a bag. I’ll be with you.’
‘Mary and Jack are coming. I’ll be at the airport to meet you. Bless you, darling,’ and Betty hung up.
Ken got unsteadily to his feet as Karen came in.
The sheets . . . then she stopped and stared at him.
‘What the hell’s the matter now?’
‘My father-in-law is dying,’ Ken said. ‘He’s asking for me. I have to go. I’ll try to get back on Monday.’
As he started for the door, Karen said, ‘Aren’t you forgetting our little pal, Lu? He’s coming today to collect ten thousand dollars.’
Ken stared wildly at her, then beside himself, he shouted, ‘To hell with him!’ and ran out to his car.
* * *
Fat Katey White sat on the sand before the smouldering fire, her breakfast chores finished. Most of the colony had gone off, either to swim or to hunt for a dollar. She liked this period when the colony was quiet. Before long, Lu Boone would leave his cabin and come for his breakfast.
Katey had put aside five sausages for him, and she planned to fry some bread. She regretted there were no eggs.
As she sat there, she thought of Lu. She heard him say to her: You’ll always be wanted. You have this thing. No one had ever said such a nice thing to her, she thought, sighing. She knew, of course, it wasn’t true, but corning from such a fantastic man, she moaned softly to herself with pleasure. Some men dug fat girls, she thought.
It just might be possible that Lu meant it! Just suppose he did mean it? Just suppose he invited her into his cabin!
Just suppose he made love to her! She closed her eyes.
Only once had a man taken her, and he had been drunk, but Katey still remembered that frightening, but wonderful moment when she came off.
She dreamed on, imagining herself in Lu’s strong arms.
‘Gone to sleep, Katey?’
She started an
d looked up. Chet Miscolo stood over her.
She liked Chet and she smiled.
‘Just dreaming. I’ll clear up in a minute.’
‘What were you dreaming about?’ He squatted down on his haunches.
‘Private dreams. Don’t you dream sometimes?’
‘Who doesn’t?’ He ran his fingers through his bush of hair. ‘I’m worried, Katey. It’s not going to help us being on T.V. I know for sure there was a camera man in that truck yesterday. That guy, Hamilton, is a mischief maker. We could be told to clear out . . . then where would we go?’
‘There are always places,’ Katey said complacently. She had become such a nomad she was happy to settle anywhere so .long as she had company, a decent fire to cook on and a supply of sausages and spaghetti. ‘What’s the time?’
‘Just after ten,’ Chet said. ‘We have been here two years, Katey. It’ll be tough if we have to leave.’
Katey wasn’t listening. In another few minutes Lu would be coming for his breakfast. She wanted to be alone with him.
‘Aren’t you going for a swim?’ Her voice a little too anxious.
Chet grinned.
‘Expecting company, Katey? Yeah, I’ll take a swim.’ He stood up. ‘Boone said he was leaving tomorrow.’
‘He told me. Maybe he’ll come back.’
Her expression of resigned despair touched Chet.
‘I expect he will,’ he said gently, knowing that by tomorrow, they would see the last of Lu Boone. ‘See you,’ and he ran off towards the sea.
Katey took the five sausages from the plastic bag and laid them, with loving care, in the pan which she put on the fire. Then she cut some slices of bread and using a little oil, she added the bread to the pan.
He could be out in a few minutes, she thought. Everything would be ready for him.
When the bread was crisp and golden and the sausages browned to perfection, and there was no sign of Lu, Katey began to get worried. She removed the pan off the fire.
Maybe, she thought, he was still sleeping. Then an idea occurred to her. She would take his breakfast to his cabin! He was probably dozing on his bed and he would welcome having his breakfast served in bed.
Her heart began to flutter. He just might invite her to stay while he ate.
1979 - You Must Be Kidding Page 10