Girl on a Slay Ride

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Girl on a Slay Ride Page 12

by Louis Trimble


  Her breath was quick and rough in his ears. She caught his wrist and guided it inside her shirt, over her smooth, warm skin.

  “Cliff, darling, darling!”

  The floor was rough. He was scarcely aware of it.

  Graef said from across the room, “How’s your chinook wind doing, Mallory?”

  The voice was like a lash of cold water. Mallory pushed Denise away and got to his feet. He walked to the stove and dipped his hands into the snow water on the stove and washed his face. He could hear Denise sobbing. She was still on the floor where he had left her.

  He heard Graef laugh, caught the mockery in the sound. He walked away, toward the door. He lifted the bar from the U-bolts and pulled the door open.

  A gust of moist, warm wind drove rain stingingly into his face. He could see the snow on the exposed portion of the porch. Except for the spots where their feet had pressed it down, the snow was almost gone.

  He said in a steady voice, “Another hour to wait.”

  Graef said, “Why don’t we have some fresh coffee before we go? Or is that asking too much, Mallory?”

  Mallory said, “I’ll make some coffee.”

  He heard Blalock rise from the floor. “I can hold the flashlight for you,” he said.

  His thin, high-pitched voice was clear and rational. He sounded rested and as relaxed as Graef.

  Mallory said, “Go ahead.”

  Blalock moved in the darkness. In a moment the yellowish, weak beam of the flashlight slid across the room. It touched Graef and Thoms seated against the wall with their hands bound and in their laps. Blalock giggled sharply. The light moved on.

  It touched Denise. She had got up, Mallory saw. She was at the other window, away from the stove. Her back was stiff, her head high. She did not turn around.

  Blalock giggled again. He moved the light toward the stove.

  Mallory went to the stove. He poured water into the coffeepot. He lifted the lid of the stove and prodded the fire into more activity before he stepped back toward the shelf where the supplies were laid out.

  “Turn the light this way,” Mallory said.

  Blalock came toward him, aiming the flashlight toward the shelf. Mallory located the sack of coffee and set it so that it was outlined by the dim light filtering through the window.

  He said, “Turn it off, Blalock. We need to save the batteries.”

  The room went dark. Blalock said, “Maybe the moon will be up by the time we’re ready to go.”

  “If the chinook blows the clouds away, it will,” Mallory said.

  He was nervous suddenly. After even the feeble light from the flash, the darkness seemed intense. He could not locate Graef and Thoms at all now. He could see Denise only because she was standing before a window. And he could make Blalock out only because the man was standing so close to him.

  Mallory moved a few feet away and quietly took the gun from his pocket. Blalock said, “You’re afraid you won’t get a chance to turn me over to the police, aren’t you, Mallory?”

  “I’m like Graef,” Mallory said. “I don’t want to take any chances.”

  Blalock giggled softly. He said. “I saw you and Mrs. Lawton talking. She was trying to persuade you to take the money and go away with her, wasn’t she?”

  Mallory said, “How could we? You’ve hidden the money again.”

  “But you could have found it,” Blalock said. “And with the gun, you and she might have got away from me. But you lost your chance. And now I’m going to take the money and get away from you.”

  His voice was perfectly rational, Mallory thought. And perfectly sincere. Mallory said, “Sorry, but no.”

  “But I will,” Blalock argued. “Because I’m smarter than you. I’m smarter than any of you—even Graef. I’ve just stayed this long because it was too hard to travel in all that snow and I was tired. But I’m rested now and the snow’s almost gone.”

  Mallory lifted the gun slightly. “We’ll all be going in less than an hour,” he said.

  “I just didn’t want you to count too much on turning me and the money over to the police,” Blalock said.

  Mallory didn’t answer. Blalock moved slightly. “I think the water’s boiling.” The flashlight came on, the beam touching the shelf of supplies. Blalock reached out and picked up the sack of coffee. The light went out. “One handful, Mallory?”

  “That’ll be enough,” Mallory said.

  Blalock moved toward the stove. “Why didn’t you take up Mrs. Lawton’s proposition?” he asked.

  Mallory said, “No one said she made me a proposition.”

  He couldn’t see the stove now; Blalock was blocking his view. But he heard the lid of the coffeepot rattle and he heard the sack of coffee rustle.

  “But she did,” Blalock said. “She’s willing to try anything to avoid being caught by her husband.”

  Mallory heard Blalock set the coffeepot off the stove and onto the bench. He could smell the sharp fragrance of freshly boiled coffee.

  Blalock said, “I suppose I could take her with me. But I really don’t think I want her that bad. Even I can buy a lot of women for less than fifty thousand dollars.”

  Denise screamed an incoherent curse at Blalock. Mallory looked in her direction. He heard Blalock giggle. The coffee sack rustled sharply. Mallory glanced back at Blalock. He saw movement from the dark blur that marked the man’s position. He lifted the gun.

  He swore as a handful of coffee stung his face. The grains filled his eyes. He heard Blalock coming for him and he lashed out with the gun barrel. He went off balance with the force of his swing. He tried to catch himself, to dodge to one side as Blalock’s foot scraped on the floor behind him.

  Mallory felt the bitter bite of the flashlight against the back of his neck. He went to his knees. The gun slipped from his fingers and clattered to the floor. He groped blindly for it. Blalock’s foot scraped again. Mallory barely felt the second blow. He smelled the acrid stench left by the rodents as his face struck the floor.

  He thought, Blalock will get the gun and kill us all.

  Then it didn’t really matter. Nothing mattered. He felt a warm, gentle cocoon of darkness wrap itself around him. He wanted only to burrow deeper into it and to sleep.

  Chapter XIX

  MALLORY opened his eyes. He remembered the gun and he ran the flat of his hand over the dirty floor. There was nothing there but rodents’ litter. He pushed himself to his knees. The stove draft was open in front and flickering light splashed out. The room came slowly into focus.

  Even before he looked, he knew that Graef and Thoms were gone. He could feel the emptiness. He knew before he really looked that Denise was gone too.

  He caught the edge of the shelf and pulled himself to his feet. His head throbbed. He could feel the stiffness of drying blood on his neck. He looked carefully toward the window. He saw the splash of moonlight outside and he could hear the warm wind whipping against the window, but the rain had stopped. Broken clouds scudded across the sky, letting the moonlight through in full force so that he could see the trail at the foot of the steps. The snow was almost gone.

  He heard the movement on the porch. He felt along the shelf and closed his fingers over the handle of his hunting knife lying there. The door bumped open. Denise was framed in the moonlight. She carried a panful of water. She kicked the door shut and came on into the room.

  Mallory said, “I thought you’d gone too.”

  She set the pan on the stove. “I went for water to wash your head.” Her voice was withdrawn. “Blalock gave you a nasty cut.”

  Mallory lifted the pan from the stove and took a deep drink. The water was icy, chilling his teeth and mouth.

  He set the pan back. He said, “How long have Graef and Thoms been gone?”

  “About an hour,” she said. She moved, and he could see her face in the flickering light from the open draft.

  There was a large discoloration high on one cheek.

  Mallory said, “You tried to stop
them?”

  She touched her cheek. “They must have been working to untie one another all the time you and Blalock were talking. Thoms got up less than five minutes after Blalock ran away. I was trying to wake you, and he hit me and knocked me away.”

  “Why?” Mallory demanded. He put his finger in the water. It was still icy to the touch.

  “He said he was going to kick you to death. But Graef stopped him. He told Thoms to hurry up, that they’d take care of us later.”

  Mallory had his cigarettes out. He held one in his hand, unlighted. He repeated, “Take care of us later? What did he mean by that?”

  “I don’t know,” Denise said. The withdrawal was still in her voice. “It was all hazy after Thoms hit me. I could hear them leave but I couldn’t do anything for the longest time. Then it got better, and I built up the fire. Then I tried to wake you up. I couldn’t so I went for some water.”

  Mallory saw the coffeepot still on the shelf. He put it on the stovetop to heat. He tried the water in the pan again. The chill was gone; it was lukewarm.

  He said, “Why didn’t you go after Blalock?”

  Denise dropped a piece of cloth into the pan of water. He recognized it as part of her shirt. She lifted the cloth and squeezed it half dry. She went up to Mallory and began to wash the back of his head gently.

  She said, “I wanted to, Cliff. But I couldn’t.”

  “Because of what he said about you?”

  She said, “Why should I care what a madman thinks of me?” She took the rag away from Mallory’s head and dipped it in the water again.

  “Oh, hell,” she said abruptly. “You know why I stayed, Cliff.”

  “Don’t pull that ‘you love me’ stuff again,” Mallory said savagely. “You’ve taken me in with it too many times already.”

  “It could be true,” Denise said in a low voice. She pressed the rag to his head again. “That looks cleaner.”

  “It’s fine,” Mallory said. He lifted the coffeepot from the stove and poured two cups. “We’ll drink this and go.”

  Denise took a cigarette from her jacket pocket. She lit it and inhaled deeply. She said angrily, “Why did I stay, then? Why didn’t I try to catch Blalock with all that money?”

  “Because you added up all the possibilities and decided I was your best bet.”

  He heard her breath catch. She said in a low voice, “Do you really believe that?”

  “What difference does it make?” Mallory demanded. “What difference does any of it make now? They’re gone and the money’s gone.” He turned sharply. “The briefcase?”

  “Graef took it. I heard him tell Thoms to be sure not to leave it behind.”

  Mallory took a deep gulp of the coffee. It scalded the inside of his mouth, but he scarcely noticed the burning. “Then the same thing holds as before,” he said. “If I can’t catch up with them, I’m going to the police.”

  “And then you’ll want me for a witness?”

  Mallory said, “That’s up to you.”

  “I’m supposed to decide if forty thousand dollars worth of bonds is more valuable than my life?”

  “You’re supposed to decide if you want to run and hide or stay and fight,” Mallory said.

  “I don’t fight very well, do I, Cliff?” Her voice was low again.

  “You do well enough when you’re backed into a corner,” Mallory said.

  She said, “That’s when rats fight, isn’t it—when they’re backed into a corner. Otherwise they run.”

  Mallory felt a surge of pity. He said harshly, “Let’s get out of here.”

  • • •

  The trail was muddy and the mud deepened as they dropped lower down the slope of the mountain. Once they stopped to rest and Mallory saw the moonlight shining on the water of the Strait. He turned the feeble flashlight beam on the trail at his feet.

  He said, “The way these tracks look, they’re still an hour ahead of us. We’ll never catch them.”

  Denise said, “While I was with them, Graef kept talking about a boat he had waiting in some cove.” Her voice was cooly impersonal.

  Mallory remembered a remark of Graef’s. “To take them to Canada,” he said. “They’ll be on their way now. Our only chance is to find the police and get them to act. They can alert the Mounties.”

  Denise said, “Graef and Thoms won’t go anywhere without the money.”

  Mallory said, “No, of course not. The bonds aren’t enough for them. Maybe they haven’t found Blalock yet. Let’s get moving.”

  A short distance on the trail pitched steeply. It broke suddenly out of the timber and onto a narrow forest road. Mallory stopped and turned on the flashlight. He examined damp grass that grew on the crown of the road.

  “They all came this way,” he said. “And went down the road. If I remember right, it leads to the state highway.”

  Denise walked behind him, not speaking.

  Mallory could see the highway after they had gone some distance. A car flashed down it, splashing light over the blacktop. He hurried his steps.

  Another car appeared. He threw up an arm as it turned sharply into the forest road and the headlights Struck him in the face. The car growled toward them in second gear.

  Mallory turned and caught Denise’s arm. He pulled her to the side of the road, toward the trees bordering it.

  He heard the car stop. He turned, and saw the gun resting on the sill of a rear window. He could see Blalock behind Graef. Thoms was in the front seat. A stranger was behind the wheel.

  Graef said, “Come in, you two, and join old friends.”

  Chapter XX

  GRAEF hadn’t lied when he said he had everything planned out, Mallory thought. Within ten minutes after Graef put him in the car, he was aboard a boat moored in a small, well-hidden cove on the south shore of the Strait. Ten minutes more and they were well into the open water of the Strait itself.

  The boat was a twenty-six footer. It stank of dampness and bad maintenance. Mallory lay in one of the two bunks that formed two sides of a triangle forward. Denise lay beside him. Their cheeks touched where the bunks met near the bow.

  Mallory could see past the man at the controls to where Graef and Thoms sat on a padded bench. Blalock was on the floor at Thoms’ feet. The skipper was no one Mallory had ever seen before. He was middleaged, wiry, with graying hair and the weathered skin of a man who spends a lot of time at sea. Mallory wondered what his usual line of work might be.

  Denise said softly in Mallory’s ear, “Why did they tie Blalock up like that and us like this?”

  Mallory lifted his head so that he could see the rope Thoms had used on him. Thoms had crossed Mallory’s arms over his belly and looped two strands of rope not too tightly about his wrists. He had done the same to Denise. Their legs were not tied at all. Blalock, on the other hand, was trussed up as tightly as a turkey meant for roasting.

  Mallory said, “Maybe it’s because we’re predictable and Blalock isn’t. Graef can amuse himself by sitting there and watching us and guessing what we’ll do. And we’re too far away to hurt him. Blalock isn’t.”

  Her voice shook. “I have a feeling there’s more to it than that, Cliff. Graef doesn’t do anything without some plan in mind.”

  Graef said mockingly, “Plotting something, you two?”

  “Just wondering why we get better treatment than Blalock,” Mallory said.

  Graef said, “That’s simple enough. It doesn’t matter if Blalock has rope marks on him. Everyone knows that he was—shall we say—stolen? But the same isn’t true of you and Mrs. Lawton. If either of you were to be found with rope marks, there might be some doubt raised in the minds of the police.”

  Mallory felt the rush of Denise’s breath. It was sour with fear. He said, “Found how?”

  “Why,” Graef said pleasantly, “found dead, of course. That is, Mrs. Lawton will be found. She and Blalock together. But you will have disappeared. You and the securities and the ransom money, Mallory.”

 
; Mallory said, “What do you expect to gain from all this rigmarole?”

  Graef laughed softly. “It’s very simple, Mallory. There’s evidence at the campsite that you and Mrs. Lawton were together there—and that Blalock was there too. When the police fit that evidence into the pattern of finding Mrs. Lawton and Blalock dead together and you missing, they will assume that you killed them both, took the money and the bonds, and disappeared. What else can they think?”

  Mallory remained silent. He could feel the throb of the motor through the hard bunk. It was a sad-looking tub, he thought, but the motor had a sweet, smooth sound, and it sent them through the water at surprising speed. He wondered about a man who found it necessary to have so many horses inside a beat-up hull.

  Beside him, Denise whispered, “Is there anything we can do, Cliff?”

  The boat began to roll sharply as they moved away from the protection of the shore. The motion brought Denise’s mouth against Mallory’s cheek. She held her lips there as if seeking comfort.

  “How touching,” Graef said.

  Mallory said to Denise, “There isn’t much left to do.” He raised his voice. “If I’m to disappear, Graef, why worry about rope marks on me?”

  Graef said, “Even the best-laid plans go awry, Mallory. You’re going skin-diving, with an anchor for company. But your body could conceivably be found. If it is, there must be no sign of anything out of the ordinary on it. Surely you can understand that?”

  Mallory ignored him. He was watching Thoms fight the growing motion of the boat. Thoms rose suddenly and went aft.

  Graef said, “Relax, Nick. If anyone was following us, they couldn’t catch Ole’s boat.”

  The man at the wheel grinned. He had sharp blue eyes. He said, “I can outrun most anything in these waters.”

  “You see, Nick,” Graef said.

  “I don’t like the looks of that fog coming in,” Thoms complained.

  “We’ll go right through it and out the other side,” Ole said. “It looks clear over in the islands.”

 

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