Al made three trips to the car, loaded, and every minute he was listening for someone to bang on the door and tell him to come out with his hands up.
Let them. He’d come out. He’d have Carolyn right in front of him and let them shoot if they wanted to.
He drank in deep gulps from a bottle on the kitchen table every time he passed it. When he was ready he put the bottle in his pocket and went upstairs again.
She was still staring with her big scared eyes. Let her be scared. She’d be worse scared before she was through. She looked like hell. Because of the way he had her tied out on the bed she looked as though she was all ready for him, but he wouldn’t have touched her if you paid him. She was dirty and lank and all she had left was those big eyes, watching him like he was something poisonous that crawled out of the woodwork.
He yanked the cords loose on her wrists and made her sit up. He tied her wrists again behind her and then loosed her feet. “Get up,” he said, and she got up. “Walk down the stairs,” he said, and she walked, and he went behind her turning off the lights.
In the dark downstairs he went and looked out the front windows, but there was nobody in sight. He took Carolyn by the arm and steered her through the kitchen to the back door. He opened it and stood peering and listening. The house next door was dark. The old man was gone to the mill and the old woman slept. He shoved Carolyn out onto the porch and down the steps.
She lunged ahead suddenly, wrenching out of his grasp, and went running away beside the house toward the street.
He caught her before she reached the front corner of the house. He knocked her down into a bed of dry rustling stalks that might have been flowers once, close up against the foundation. “You and your goddamned husband,” he said. “You and your goddamned husband.” He hit her and her body jerked back and forth under the blows. She rolled over on the narrow walk in front of him. He hauled her up to her feet, hitting her, shaking her. “I ought to beat your brains out,” he said, “and leave you here. He’s so goddamned anxious to find something.”
But he didn’t. He wasn’t quite ready yet. He forced her ahead of him to the garage and into the back of the car and she did not try again to get away. He thought she was about half conscious, the way she went limp when he tied her up like he had before. That was good. She wouldn’t make any trouble that way. He threw a blanket over her and then opened the garage doors. There was nobody in the alley when he drove away.
He didn’t know yet where he was going. But after he got out of South Flat he felt better. He headed for the edge of town and pretty soon he was out in the country on the unlighted roads that wound between little villages and past farms. He wandered for quite a while, driving slowly and thinking, now and then pausing to tilt the bottle to his mouth. There was something knocking at the back of his mind, something he wanted to remember.
When he finally did remember it he straightened up, finished the last drink in the bottle, and threw it out. The old sedan jumped like a rabbit. Al watched the dark November fields fly past him. He thought of the woman in the back seat and he thought of Ben Forbes and he smiled.
Hell, he thought, they can’t beat me. I’m unbeatable. I’m on top, all the way through.
eighteen
Early in the morning Ernie MacGrath and Bill Drumm went into South Flat from the west side. Detectives Connor and Postapak went in from the east. They asked questions in some of the places Ben had gone into before them, and in others that had not been open at night, particularly the corner groceries on the side streets. Shortly after ten Ernie went into a little Italian market three blocks south of Trumbull Avenue and one block over from Chance’s Run. When he came out again he was pretty sure he had it.
He sent Bill Drumm to talk to a Mr. Frescatti who lived around the corner and who had recently rented a house to a big blond man who bought bread and canned goods at the corner store and got very nasty if he was asked friendly questions about his personal affairs.
Ernie himself took the car and drove slowly up the street.
From here he had an unobstructed view of the rear of the four-room house at the end of the next street over. The window blinds were all drawn down. The garage doors were wide open and the garage was empty. When he moved to a little different angle he could see that the back door of the house itself was wide open too, swinging idly in the wind.
Ernie’s mouth tightened. He turned the car around and went back to the corner.
In fifteen minutes Packer and Captain Stepanak joined Ernie and Bill Drumm. They had Ben Forbes with them. Ernie had been watching the back of the house. Connor and Postapak had been watching the front. There was no sign of life. The back door swung to and fro in the cold gentle wind.
Packer was looking tired and annoyed. “I don’t think we have to worry about Guthrie being inside,” he said. “We questioned the beat patrolmen, and the one who was on duty last night remembered seeing a man answering Guthrie’s description several times in the last couple of weeks. He saw him last night coming out of a bar on Trumbull Avenue at about the same time Forbes was there, or a little after. He remembered Forbes very well. Then about twelve-thirty he saw a green sedan like Guthrie’s come tearing out of this street and head east on Trumbull.”
Stepanak squinted at the house and the empty garage. “I guess we might as well go in.”
Ernie looked at Ben Forbes. He was in the back seat of the car and he did not make any move to get out. He shook his head and put his face between his hands.
They signaled to Connor and Postapak and went in. And all the way Ernie’s heart was beating high up in his throat and his stomach was one sick apprehensive knot. He was expecting a body.
He almost cried with relief when they did not find one. He stood in the doorway of the little room with the rumpled bed and the quilt nailed over the window and he cursed Ben Forbes out loud.
Packer sighed. “Forbes scared him off, all right. From the looks of things, he took Mrs. Forbes and left in a hell of a hurry.”
“Christ,” said Ernie, “Ben might as well have toured the neighborhood in a loudspeaker truck.”
“Yeah,” said Packer. “Well, it’s done. And at least Guthrie didn’t kill her.”
“Not here, anyway,” said Ernie, feeling furious and depressed.
Packer nodded toward the outside. “You’d better go tell him.”
Ernie went out and walked back to the car. He said to Ben, “It’s all right. He took her with him.”
Ben’s head fell forward and his shoulders sagged. Ernie thought he had fainted. But in a minute he said: “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
Ernie’s anger subsided. “Apparently he came into the bar right after you had the row with the fellow. He couldn’t have helped hearing about it.”
“Now what?” said Ben in a low voice to himself. “Oh, God, now what?”
Ernie did not know, and so he did not say anything.
In a little while Packer came back with Bill Drumm. Two uniformed officers had arrived to mount guard on the house for Captain Stepanak until the crime-lab technicians got through. Connor and Postapak would continue with routine questioning in the neighborhood. Bill Drumm took the car back downtown. Ernie rode with Packer and Ben Forbes.
On the way Packer said, “The FBI and the Sheriff’s Office should be notified.”
Ben, who had sat like a huddled statue in the back seat, straightened up. “Why?”
“Because Guthrie has probably taken your wife outside our jurisdiction.”
“No,” said Ben in a sharp toneless voice. “I don’t want anybody more called in. I’m not going to do anything more. Nothing at all. I’ve endangered her enough. I’m going to wait.”
“For what?”
“He’ll get in touch with me.”
Packer nodded. “That’s true. And probably pretty fast. He was supposed to contact you again tomorrow night, wasn’t he?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think he’ll wait that long now.”
>
Ben said, “No. Everything’s upset now.”
“Well, I doubt if he’ll harm your wife until he’s talked to you again. If he’d been going to do that he’d have done it last night, when he was angry and scared, getting ready to run.”
Ben laughed. “How much would you like to bet on that?”
“I think it’s a reasonable assumption.”
“With a man like Guthrie how can you assume anything reasonable? He may be killing her now, this minute. He may have killed her last night along the road and thrown her body in a ditch. He may do anything.”
Ernie thought Ben was right but he didn’t say so. With a professional committing a crime in cold blood for the pure gain of money you could hazard a pretty good guess. With an amateur on an emotional kick you were lost. They did what they did and that was that.
Ben said, “And it’s my fault. I decided what to do and then I couldn’t do it.”
“Just the same,” said Packer, “he still wants his wife back and your wife, alive, is still his best hope of getting her. Also you were pretty obviously on your own last night; so as far as he knows, there is no law involved.”
“It looked as though he took all the food in the joint with him,” Ernie said. “He must mean to hole up with her somewhere else.”
“All right,” Ben said. “I’ll hope.”
His voice was very bitter.
They got out in the police garage and went upstairs to Harbacher’s office. Ben sat down and stared bleakly at the floor. Poor bastard, Ernie thought. He was breaking his neck trying to save her. And the hell of it is now that he isn’t really responsible any more, able to make the right decisions. But he has to make them. It’s his wife.
Harbacher was talking to him. “I agree with Chief Packer that Guthrie will contact you as soon as he can safely get to a telephone, probably tonight. Possibly even before. I think there is very little we can do until he does contact you. However, there are some preparations we can make.”
Ben shook his head. “I had one remote chance and I bungled it. Now there’s nothing more to do. I’ll talk to him when he calls. I’ll beg him. I’ll offer him everything I have, and if he won’t listen—”
He lifted his hands and let them drop again.
Ernie was tired. He had had only two and a half hours of sleep last night. He was still burning with honest anger at the way things had been balled up in South Flat. He lost his temper and talked out of turn.
“That’s fine,” he said. “You screw everything up and now you’re going to cry on Guthrie’s shoulder. That’ll help Carolyn a lot.”
Ben stared at him with eyes like two pieces of dull glass. Packer and Harbacher stood by and let Ernie talk.
“You’ll beg him. You’ll offer him. He doesn’t want that, he wants Lorene, and the minute you tell him you can’t deliver her he doesn’t have any more reason for keeping Carolyn alive.”
Ben said, “What’s the use of telling him I can?”
“Well, in the first place, Lorene’s a woman. If she was a money ransom, a pack of bills, she could be delivered in a lot of ways, but a woman has to be met someplace. If you make him believe you’re bringing her, he’ll have to arrange a meeting. That could give us a chance to catch him.” Ernie fairly stamped his feet. “Christ, man. What have you got to lose now? You loused up one chance but you might have another. Are you going to louse that up too?”
Ben said, “You don’t have to be so goddamned self-righteous. Suppose it was Ivy instead of Carolyn?”
“I have supposed that. But it’s still true, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“All right. What are you going to do about it?”
They glared at each other.
Ben shrugged and looked away. “You’re right, Ernie. I haven’t anything to lose now. I’ll do what you say.”
“Good,” said Harbacher, stepping in. “I’ll tell you what we want. We would like you to go home and stay by the telephone, and we would like permission to tap your line and install a tape recorder.”
“Go ahead,” said Ben. “What do you want me to say to Guthrie?”
“I can’t write out the words for you. But try and convince him that you’ve talked Lorene into seeing him, that you understand there’s no other way to get Mrs. Forbes back. Don’t let him suspect that you have any contact with us or that you know about the house in South Flat. Don’t ask him where he’s taken her, for instance. Let him do the talking.”
“I’m just to promise him anything he wants.”
“Promising isn’t enough, you’ve got to make him believe it. Otherwise he’ll smell a trap and the whole thing will be off.”
Ben said, “I’ll try.”
Harbacher looked at him doubtfully. Then he went on to other things. “MacGrath and Drumm will go with you. They’ll stay with you in case Guthrie should try to contact you in person or make any attempt on your life. I don’t think either thing is likely, but you never know. We’ll also arrange for stakeouts at both ends of Lister Road.”
Packer said, “Mrs. Guthrie ought to be under guard too. And she might have some idea where he would go.”
Harbacher nodded. “Get over and talk to her. And make sure she doesn’t decide to run out. We’re likely to need her.” He glanced at Ernie. “One of us will be out in a little while. If anything breaks in the meantime you know what to do.”
Ernie said, “I’ll find you.” He turned to Ben. “Come on, let’s get moving.”
Ben got up and went with him. Packer and Harbacher both watched him go as though they were not happy about the prospects. Ernie was not either.
Bill Drumm was waiting downstairs. Ernie drove Ben’s car and Bill followed in the cruiser, which he would leave out of sight at Pettit’s, so as not to advertise their presence.
Ben Forbes sat silently beside Ernie. It was a gray cold day, and before they had gone three blocks it began to rain. Ernie drove mechanically. He was tired, but he could keep going as long as he had to. He didn’t talk to Ben. He didn’t know what to say.
Abruptly Ben said, “I’m sorry, Ernie. I didn’t give you a very fair break.”
“Forget it.”
“You could have caught him if I’d told you. Carolyn would be safe now.”
Ernie said uncomfortably, “That’s not certain. We might have had a better chance than you, but you never know how a deal like this will go.”
Ben shook his head.
“Listen,” Ernie said. “Forget what’s been done and think about what you’re going to do. She’s still alive and there’s still hope.”
Ben said, very quietly, “I told you I’d do whatever you think best.”
Ernie let it drop.
They reached the house. Ernie put the car in the garage and they plowed through the rain to the back door. A few minutes later Bill Drumm joined them. Inside the place was cold and so dreary in the gray light that it gave Ernie the creeps.
Ben sat down in the living room close to the hall. Ernie turned the furnace up and went out in the kitchen with Bill to fix some coffee and sandwiches. When he came back Ben was asleep in the chair, his face so gaunt and lined in repose that Ernie was shocked by it. He threw a blanket over him, and then he and Bill Drumm sat and drank coffee and ate sandwiches and listened for the phone. And all Ernie could think about was Carolyn, only her face looked like Ivy’s.
A couple of men arrived with the tape recorder and went about setting it up in the bedroom. Shortly after that Packer came, and then Mike Vinson from the local FBI office right on his heels. He talked to Ben Forbes and Packer and then went away again. Following its usual custom, the FBI would respect Ben’s request to hold off until Ben had made contact with Guthrie and done what he could to secure Carolyn’s release. Only when she was free or they were sure she was dead would they go all out after Guthrie. Packer would keep them informed. At this point they could not do any more than was already being done.
Packer had not been able to get any information out of
Lorene. “Either she doesn’t know anything or she’s scared too witless to tell it,” he said. “I think it’s both.”
The Kratich house was under twenty-four-hour guard and a permanent plant had been established in Lorene’s vacated apartment. The Sheriff’s Office had been notified and a description of Guthrie’s car had been sent out with a request to report it if seen but under no circumstances to interfere with it. They did not want Carolyn Forbes killed over a traffic ticket.
Everything had now been done that could be done until they were given something new to work on.
They all sat down with Ben Forbes and waited for the phone to ring.
nineteen
Lorene Guthrie was sitting, too. She was waiting for Al to come and kill her.
The Kratich house was big and old, with huge boxy rooms and ugly woodwork and windows that came down almost to the floor. It was well kept up. Vern and his older brother Nick saw to that. They both lived there, Vern because he was a bachelor and Nick because he was a widower. There was another brother and a couple of sisters, but they were all married and had their own homes. Lorene had met the family, but she had never had much to do with them. It had all been Vern and her.
Now she was in their house, almost as if she was already married to Vern. And all of a sudden none of it was real. Not even Vern.
It was like when you were little and you were out in the back yard playing you were a princess and the dog was your magician and you could have anything in the world you wanted, and then Pa would yell out the back door for you to come and do something and you were just yourself with your dirty bare feet. Everything had been going along so nice and happy and she had almost forgotten about Al, and then Mr. Forbes came that night and everything turned around and got ugly again. And there it was, the reality. She was still Al’s wife, and Al wasn’t going to let her get away.
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