Koch shouldered his way out of the group. “Let’s go, you men with guns. We’ll spread out and comb the field.”
My mind raced as I watched them move. I thought of Rich crawling through the field while the men stalked him. “Wait a minute!” I shouted.
Two of the men stopped; the others looked over their shoulders, shrugged, and moved on. “You’re going after the wrong man!” I yelled again, standing on tiptoe.
More men stopped, and a few smiles broke out. Koch growled, “This is police business, young lady. Stay out of it.” He moved forward and the men followed.
I spoke to the crowd, not to Koch. “If it’s police business, why can’t the police handle it?” Someone laughed, and Koch’s group straggled to a halt. “I know nothing about police business, I only know Richard Farham was with me when this girl was killed.”
Koch broke into the mumble of the crowd. “The girl’s hysterical, men. Let’s go!”
“Do I sound hysterical?” I lowered my voice and spoke to those nearest me. “I’m telling you the truth. I went to the lieutenant an hour ago and wanted him to help me find this girl. Ask him what he did.”
“You had no proof!” Koch’s voice rose. “Where’s your proof?”
“Do I need proof? I was a victim.” I lowered my voice still more, and saw two men leave Koch’s group and come nearer. I could sense the shift in the crowd’s emotion. “In case any of you don’t know me, I’m Laura Crewes, the girl who was attacked Saturday night. And I say Richard Farham didn’t do it. Wouldn’t I know?”
“If he didn’t, who did?” crackled the brown-toothed man.
“You asked a good question, there.” I smiled at him. “Why don’t you ask the lieutenant? Ask him how he knew there was a body in that trailer, too.” I paused a moment, then raised my voice. “Is the woman here who called the police?”
Heads turned, but nobody spoke.
“Isn’t that a little unusual, Lieutenant? Someone calls the police and doesn’t wait for them to arrive?”
“Come on, you men!” yelled Koch. “He’ll be in the next county!”
Nobody moved, and I spoke again. “There are many unusual things about this. Ask the lieutenant how many killers stand quietly while the search for a body is getting warm. Ask him how many hide a body in their own houses. And you, ask yourselves why a detective would try to shoot a man before he started running. Ask him …” I lowered my voice, “Ask him why he came to Curtright City.”
“All right!” Koch shouldered his way forward and pushed his face so close to mine I could see the yellow film at the corners of his eyes. “You forgot what I told you about the cat,” he said softly. “You’re under arrest.”
“You’re being stupid, Koch.”
“And you’re being charged with inciting to riot.” He gripped my forearm. “The show’s over.”
I glanced at the sullen faces of the crowd. I had their sympathy, but I could expect no help against the law. I turned to Koch, and did what I’d always considered a childish, filthy gesture; I spat in his face. It ran down beside his nose and I jerked free and ran. I heard Koch shout, “Grab her!”
A different voice shouted, “Don’t touch her!” Then the brown-toothed man stepped in front of me with arms outstretched. I struggled against him, but he held my arms behind me and turned me to face Koch.
“That’s enough.” The voice belonged to Jules Curtright, a tone of quiet, unmistakable authority. The crowd was silent as he walked toward me, his brows low over dark eyes. He looked over my head at the man who held me. “Do you know who I am?”
“Naw.”
Jules smiled, and his voice was pleasant. “I’m Jules Curtright. Did you hear me say not to touch the girl?”
“Yeah, but the lieutenant—”
Crack! The back of Jules’ hand caught the man on the jaw. He staggered and I jumped aside. Jules stepped forward, his hand still raised, and chopped the edge of his palm below the man’s ear. He fell forward. Jules’ knee came up into his face and flipped him backward. The man sprawled and lay with his breath bubbling through mashed lips.
Jules caught my wrist. “Stay beside me.” Then he called, “Come here, Koch!”
Koch stepped forward and stood facing Jules. “Did you tell this mob to grab the girl?”
“She was trying to—”
Splat! Jules’ palm struck Koch’s cheek with a sound like a baker slapping bread dough. “Tell them nobody touches the girl.”
Koch’s head settled deep into the fat of his neck and for a moment I thought he’d attack Jules. Instead he tinned and growled to the crowd. “Okay, nobody touches the girl.”
He jerked open the door of the patrol car, heaved himself behind the wheel, and slammed the door behind him. He gunned the motor, put his head through the window, and barked, “Go home to bed and forget the search party! He’s gone by now!” His car sprayed gravel on the crowd as he roared from the court.
The trailer door swung open. I looked up to see the medical examiner step down, followed by two men with the stretcher. The crowd was hushed as they carried Ann’s body to the ambulance; some of the men took off their hats.
Jules pulled gently on my arm. “You can ride in my car.”
I almost said no, then I remembered that all our evidence was gone. “All right.”
When we were moving, Jules cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about Ann.”
“Oh? Did you know her?”
“Not well. But I understand she used to be a friend of yours.”
“That was years ago, before she met a man.” With an effort, I kept my voice casual. “Do you always know what happens in this town as soon as it happens?”
“Usually.” He glanced at me, his face sharp in the glow from the dashlights. “What’s on your mind?”
I ran my hand down my thigh and felt the bulge of the knife. “You knew where to find me. And you knew it was Ann, yet they didn’t lift the blanket.”
He leaned forward and flicked a switch. I heard the crackle of static. “Police radio,” he said.
“Oh,” I listened to the monotone voices. “Car four en route to Pelman road.” Then, ”Car six ready on route two-twenty.”
Jules flicked it off. “They’re sewing up the town with roadblocks.
He can’t get away.”
But I knew he could; that meant I’d have to reach the pumper’s shack. “Jules, this isn’t the way to my home.”
“I know. Saturday night you said you never changed dates in midevening.” He leaned back in the seat. “I’m holding you to your policy, thought we’d ride around.” He held out a cigaret and I took it. “Ace told me you checked on my alibi, Laurie. Are you satisfied?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He grinned as he lit my cigaret. “Simone was disappointed tonight, in case you’re wondering how that play turned out.”
“I wasn’t.” I drew deeply on the cigaret and wondered if he knew what else I’d done that night. “Jules, is it too late to go to your lodge?”
“The lodge?” Jules braked the car. “You want to go now?”
“Right now.” My throat was tight. “You said I wouldn’t need luggage.”
“No, but—” He shook his head and started turning around in a driveway. “Laurie, someday I’ll figure out how your mind works.”
When we neared the little all-night cafe, I asked Jules if he’d get me a couple of hamburgers to eat en route. After he’d gone in, I printed a note on the back of the receipt for my formal:
Koch took up a collection from my purse. Gone to Jules’ lodge to find more proof. Daddy will help you if you take this note to him. I’ll play it cool until you get there. L. C.
I ran down the highway and climbed a fence to get to the pumper’s shack. I rolled the note and stuck it in a crack inside the door. I ran back to the car and slid into the seat just as a police car stopped on the highway.
I watched it back up, red light flashing on the roof, blocking both lanes of traffic. They stoppe
d one car while I waited, flashed a light on the driver and into the back seat, searched the trunk, then waved it on. I hoped Rich wouldn’t try to reach our rendezvous now.
“Chow.” Jules dropped a sack in my lap and slid behind the wheel.
Just then one of the policemen shouted, “Here he comes!”
I turned to see the blue sedan bearing down on the police car. Twenty yards away it careened onto the gravel parking lot. I glimpsed Richard behind the wheel, lips stretched over his teeth in a savage grin. Gravel clattered on Jules’ car as Rich swerved back on the highway beyond the police car.
Helplessly I watched the two policemen draw their guns and fire. Richard’s car swerved to the right, then shot across to the left. It struck the ditch, bounced high in the air, landed rolling in a wheat field.
I clawed open the door and started running across the gravel lot. I reached the highway as the car made one last roll and bounced back to rest on its wheels. Jules shouted behind me and I ran faster. I heard a muffled boom and saw Richard’s car turn into a flower of yellow, licking flame.
Flames spread into the wheat field like a drop of red ink on a blotter. Thirty yards from the car I felt the heat burn my face. Inside the car, I saw a figure writhe, black against the flames, and heard a strange, inhuman whimper of pain.
Then strong arms caught me from behind and Jules’ voice yelled in my ear. “Too late, Laurie!”
I turned and clawed at his face, but his arms held me like steel cables. He carried me kicking back to his car and held me against him for what seemed like half an hour. Then his voice was gentle in my ear. “You can’t do anything, Laurie. Look.”
I quit struggling and turned. A dozen men were beating out the last of the flames. Richard’s car was a black shadow in the center of a smoking perimeter. I smelled burning rubber and the sweet, horrible odor of burned flesh. Nothing moved inside the car. My knees went rubbery and I felt Jules’ hand on my back, guiding me firmly into his car.
For an hour he held the car at eighty with his hands relaxed on the wheel. When he finally spoke his voice was idly curious. “Did you love him?”
I’d grown used to the empty ache in my chest; suddenly it blossomed again and filled my throat. I spoke with effort. “There wasn’t time. I was just beginning to know what kind of man he was.”
“Mmmmm. I’m still going to the lodge, you know.”
“Yes?” For an hour I hadn’t noticed where we were going. Now I forced the memory of Richard deep into my mind. “So I see.”
Jules leaned back and dropped his hand to my knee. “No reason to change our plans, now that the case is officially closed. It’s obvious Richard did it, used Ann as an alibi, then killed her so she couldn’t disprove it.”
I wriggled my toes inside my shoes to keep from striking his hand. “You said the case was closed, Jules. Let’s leave it that way.”
“And in your mind.”
“Closed, Jules. Absolutely closed.”
“Good.” He grinned and squeezed my knee. “Now we can enjoy ourselves.”
I looked at him and wondered if he really thought I could forget so quickly. He was so handsome, so inhumanly sure of himself, so insulated by the power of money that he’d never learned to sense the feelings of others. That was his blind spot, and my best weapon. He’d never expect a woman not to find him irresistable.
I noticed how his hand lay on the wheel, so relaxed, yet fully in control. Was that the hand that ripped off my clothes? I thought it might be, and I hated him suddenly with a depth and violence that made my mouth dry and poured strength into my aching body. But I couldn’t let him see the hate—not until I found my proof.
I felt his hand move higher on my leg and thought: In just ten seconds I will begin my act. I began counting as I did when I used to bait a fishhook or dab iodine on a cut. If I really loved him, what would I do? Open my legs and clutch his hand? Or tell him to stop the car and let’s get this thing done? No, that would be out of character.
Nine … ten. I brushed my palm lightly across his wrist and pushed gently at his hand. “Wait, Jules, until we get to the lodge.”
He smiled and put his hand on the wheel. I felt the car surge forward and watched the needle move up to hover between ninety and one hundred. So far, so good.
The village on the lake shore was dark when we arrived. Jules got the operator of the boat dock out of bed. The gaunt young man yawned, stretched a narrow chin covered with red stubble, and told Jules his inboard was out of the water getting a new cylinder block.
“Then get me an outboard,” said Jules. “I want it ready when I get back with the groceries. Wait here, Laurie.”
I stood on the pier and watched the young man fasten clamps in silence. After several minutes he squinted up at me. “So you’re cousin Jules’ new girl friend.”
“Cousin Jules? Are you a Curtright?”
“Most of us here are. This is where the Curtrights first settled.”
He plugged in the hoses leading to the tank. “My brother’s the town marshal, my daddy’s the sheriff, my uncle runs the grocery and hardware, I got a cousin runs a bar, and I got this here boat dock.” His voice had held a note of pride; suddenly it went flat. “And cousin Jules owns the whole works.”
“Oh?” This-sounded like Curtright City in miniature; I could expect no help here.
“Yeah, he don’t trust nobody but a Curtright.” He chuckled and tipped the propeller into the water. “Figgers whatever we steal he’ll get back sooner or later. Probably right, too. He’s sharp as a fishhook and don’t let go any easier.” He stood up and held out his hand. “Get aboard, chick.”
I took his hand and stepped in, feeling the boat roll beneath my feet. His hand went under my armpit and squeezed my breast. The other hand gripped my thigh. I drew back my arm and swung my hand against his bristled jaw as hard as the rocking boat would let me.
“Awww …” he said.
My arm was tingling all the way to the shoulder. “Now that you’ve helped me, get out!”
“Okay, okay, you ain’t interested.” He climbed onto the pier and squatted at the edge rubbing his jaw. He laughed weakly and plucked at a splinter in the dock. “You gonna tell cousin Jules?”
“I don’t know.” I sat down and pulled my skirt over my knees. “Would he fire you?”
“Fire me?” He laughed. “He couldn’t afford to. I’ve seen too many of you come and go.” His lip curled. “You’re all alike, too. Treat a guy mean when he’s broke; treat him like a king when he’s rich. You know why I’m still here? I see a lot and I always got the same answer, Jules went to the island by himself. That’s why!”
Footsteps pounded on the dock and he jumped up. “There she sets, Mister Curtright, just like you ordered.”
Jules stepped in, and set down a paper bag. “Push us off.”
A minute later we were sweeping across the lake; Jules, a big, dark shape in the rear with the wake fanning out behind him. I turned to the front and tried to enjoy the wind in my face, but I kept thinking of what was ahead.
My first look inside the lodge took my breath. I’d expected something crude, but I’d overlooked the gargantuan scale of Curtright concepts. The rectangular central room was twice the size of Jules’ vast office; animal heads cast long shadows along walls broken by a half-dozen doors. But it was dated, tarnished luxury. I felt as though I’d walked into a theatre left over from the plush, pre-TV days. “Don’t you have servants, Jules?”
“They leave when I arrive.” He took my arm and escorted me across the room. “We’re the only ones here.”
Inside a bedroom the size of a tennis court, I stood and felt awkward while Jules opened windows and let in the brisk smell of the lake. He turned down the oversized bed. He flicked the lights on and then opened a closet and waved at racks of clothing. “Help yourself. I’ll put away the food.”
I didn’t move until the door closed behind him. It was subtle as a burlesque bump; I was supposed to be stripped and in bed
when he returned. I undressed slowly, my movements calm and deliberate. Reluctantly I tore the tape from my leg, unstrapped the knife, and shoved it between the mattress and the springs.
When I opened the closet, the racks spoke softly of Eileen’s presence. There were the frilly, transparent garments in the blacks and blues that had always drawn eyes to her hair. In the pocket of a terrycloth robe, I found a pair of black panties labeled: Wednesday. All seven pairs were now accounted for.
But Eileen hadn’t been the only visitor. The racks were gay with Ann’s bright greens and reds: pajamas, print dresses, shorts and halters, and shoes. Ann, it seemed, had come often.
I found other clothing, neither Ann’s nor Eileen’s, all sizes. I took down a set of black silk pajamas with elastic in ankles and wrists. As I slipped them on, I wondered who had worn them and what had happened to her. I turned off the light, lay on the bed to wait for Jules.
My breath came in shallow gasps and my limbs were like sticks joined by rusty hinges. I thought of Jules and felt the slow churning in my stomach. I couldn’t do it. Maybe Eileen and Ann and Simone were stronger; or maybe they loved him. But I didn’t, and I couldn’t make love to a man I hated. I knew I would claw and spit and kick … and get sick. I’d have to stall until Richard came.
Then a thought hit me like a fist in the stomach. Richard is dead. Nobody knows I’m here. My note would flutter in the door of the pumper’s shack until it turned yellow. How could I have put myself so completely in Jules’ hands. It must have been the shock of Richard’s death.
But I could still phone. There’d be other lodges along the lake. I’d take the boat—no, Jules had removed the oars and motor and locked them in a shed. I hadn’t thought about it then; now I knew his reason.
So I’d walk. I jumped out of bed, found moccasins in the closet, and started to put on a robe. Then I decided the black pajamas were perfect for the dark. It would be simple to follow the lake shore to the next lodge.
After thirty minutes I knew it wasn’t simple. I’d moved steadily along the rocky, five-foot slope between water and high water line. My ankles ached from turning on rocks, and the sweat-sodden pajamas clung to me like a second skin.
The Anatomy of Violence Page 14