In the past, a gang of prowling teenagers, five brutal, lusty, swaggering youths, captured and brutally attacked young Barbara. Vengeance was the only pathway left open to her protector, even if it took him years to work out the finer details ... to locate a wife of each of the five evil defilers. To stalk those wives and time his own attack correctly so all the degradation could be returned to its rightful shame place. Caron, in the park near her apartment. Laurel ... next, on the deserted horse-path, under the bushes. Grace . , . the taunting teaser who wanted to dance through the trees. Betty ... hanging by her wrists. Alice ... ready and waiting for his every torment. But the husbands had discovered the plot, and joined together in an attempt to locate the stalker. Only Laurel had special needs of her own, and only the attacker could satisfy her raging lusts, so she, too, tracked him down for wanton reasons ... even as the pistol exploded...
CHAPTER ONE
IT WAS A DARK DEED PERFORMED IN DARKNESS. Of course, Caron Love should not have been alone in the darkness; but she was. She should have taken a cab or at least waited for the bus.
But she was preoccupied, annoyed with herself for not going to six spades on that last hand. Tara's expression of polite disgust when she saw Caron's hand had been embarrassing.
So, at ten minutes to one that morning, Caron was walking boldly down Blueside Avenue, Blueside Park looming silent on one side and totally deserted King's Drive on the other. Only the rhythmic clicking of her heels broke the dead silence.
That the man could come upon her so silently was an even stranger aspect. Later, she felt that, if nothing more, she should have sensed his presence. But she did not. Her first realization of his proximity came with his command:
"Don't scream, lady."
It was an unnecessary order. Caron was frozen. She remained frozen while he expertly wrapped his arms around her, one circling her waist, the other over her mouth. As he dragged her, she began to fight. She struggled against the soft, gloved palm that cut off her screams. She tried to dig her heels into the grass.
But the issue was never in doubt. She would be taken where he wanted her to go and he would do with her as he pleased
And this came about.
When that was over, half an hour later, and she sat naked in the grass sobbing in the weirdly unemotional manner of those who have been abused and are accepting the abuse because there is no way of rejection, she went into the third phase of the terrible adventure.
The first phase had been the accosting. This would always remain somewhat of a blur in her memory. The second phase was the actual attack. This she strove later to explain to Laurel Payne, her only really close friend.
The third phase was a mixing and merging of many emotions: The experience is over. He's gone and I'm still alive and not injured. I am thankjul. Ironically, at the moment, she-likened the experience to a visit to the dentist. The dread upon entering his office. The fear while climbing into the chair. The tenseness. Then the dentist smiling: "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Of course the man in the park hadn't smiled and asked any comforting questions. But the answer, if he had asked, was in her mind-
In comparison to what she'd expected, that hadn't been so bad.
But as she sat there naked and sobbing, these thoughts were but vague impressions flashing through her mind. There were more immediate matters; gathering up her clothing from the various places he'd put them and digging the knots out of her dress.
Then there was the going home; walking into the apartment; facing Frank.
The shameful confession:
"I walked home from Grace's. Along the park. A man dragged me in among the trees. Frank was raped.'"
The letting go. The collapse into his arms. Frank's face above her as she lay on the bed. Its mixture of concern and savageness reflecting both his love for her and his battle with his own ripping emotions.
And then blessed sleep, but with the shameful, unbidden thought preceding:
Why did I walk in and crack up? That wasn't a terrible thing. That wasn't much different, really, than being in bed with Frank.
Why did I even tell him?
But she had told him.
The next morning, she regretted telling him even more, not because she'd wanted to hide anything from Frank, but because in telling him she lost control of the situation.
She wanted, that morning upon awakening, to lie back and calmly consider the situation; where the attack left her; to lay out for herself, a sensible procedure.
But they were both in it now and she was forced to debate with Frank.
"Darling please, not the police."
This angered him. "Caron! Are you out of your mind? Do you think I'll let a man drag you into the park and rape you and get away?"
"But the publicity! The shame!"
"The hell with that! Are we decent citizens or not? Are we going to let this degenerate hit another woman, and another, just because we're too chicken-hearted to say anything?"
"I'm well aware of our civic duty, and my answer should be, "No, we're not,' but I can't give you that answer. I'm afraid. And I'd think you would be, too. Think of the people at your office; you're with them all day and they'll look at you and you'll know what they're thinking."
Frank was determined man with a straight jawline advertising that determination. "I'm willing to face that. They're adults too, and they'll sympathize with us."
"Yes, your real friends, but what about the others? The nasty-minded ones, darling? They'll smirk behind their hands and make their jokes. They'll imply that this wasn't rape. They'll...."
"Caron!"
"I'm sorry, but that's the way I feel." Tears came again and as he stood glaring at her she reached to touch him, putting entreaty into the gesture. "Frank, please understand. I was the one who was raped! Not you!"
He turned away and stood looking out the window. "I think that was unfair. You're implying I have no regard for your feelings and it's not true. You know it's not true."
"Of course, but...."
She could find no more words; But actually, this made little difference. Words would not help her. Just as the man in the park had had his way with her, Frank would also have his way.
It struck her, wildly, at that moment that this realization somehow defined what she was and what she had always been. All during her life, someone had had his way with her.
Her father, with a jaw greatly like Frank's. He had always told her what to do and how to do it. After her father's death, Uncle William had had his way in shaping her to his ideas of what she should be.
Silence fell between them there in the bedroom, Frank grimly waiting, as always, for Caron to agree that he was right.
Muted by her own misery, she struggled with the silence and then gave aimless voice to her mind.
"I sat there in that terrible darkness, glad that I was still alive. I was thankful that I hadn't been mutilated."
Frank whirled. "Are you telling me you were actually grateful to that slinking degenerate? You were thanking him for not killing you?"
Hysteria came close to the surface. "I don't know! I don't know! Perhaps I was! While I sat there trying to take the knots out of my dress."
The affect of that on Frank was plain. He stiffened visibly and then walked slowly toward the bed, his whole being obviously jarred.
"What did you say?'
"While I was sitting there, I thought...."
He gestured impatiently. "No, no. You said something else, about your dress."
"When he took my clothes off, he tied a lot of knots in my dress."
"Wasn't that pretty silly thing to do?"
The question itself was not as strange as Frank's manner in asking it. He was such a iron-willed man that Caron couldn't help seeing the change in him. It was as though he was pleading for reassurance-demanding that the attacker had done something illogical by tying knots in her dress.
But Frank didn't wait for her answer. He turned back to the window, hiding his face, and the silence again descended.
When he returned to stand beside her and look down into her face, there had been another change. He had softened. He laid a gentle hand on her head.
"I do understand, honey. You would have to bear the brunt of exposure. I can't agree it's the right thing to do, but at least I'll think it over. We don't have to decide this very minute to leave the police out of it. I do understand."
He went to the closet door and took a necktie off the rack. He pulled it around his neck. Without looking at her, he asked, "Are you all right?"
"Yes, I'm quite all right."
Then, his effort at casualness was almost painful. He went to the mirror and worked at a four-in-hand knot as though it were the day's most difficult and important task.
"You'll drop around and see Doctor Peel?"
"Yes." Sensing his pain, she tried to help him. "I have a physical coming up, a routine physical."
"I was just thinking..."
"What, darling?"
"About old Doc Spencer. He isn't so far away. Two hours on the train."
Old Doc Spencer had been Caron's family physician. He'd tended her as a child and a growing girl. He still practiced in Ludlow, two hours out from the city. But when she married Frank, they'd gotten a younger, local doctor here in town.
Doctor Peel. In his middle thirties. A good man, but young and handsome. Doc Spencer, old and plodding and understanding.
Caron saw the hurt behind Frank's words and she warmed to him. "I would like to see Doc. It's been quite a while. I'll arrange to run up to Ludlow tomorrow."
He turned brusquely. "I'll get to work. I might as well. You rest today. Try to sleep."
"I will."
He bent to kiss her with all the tenderness he was capable of. It wasn't much but that didn't reflect on Frank. His armor against sentimentality had always been thick.
Alone, Caron lay totally relaxed in body, but with her mind struggling. She wanted to talk to someone she could confide in. There were things to get off her chest.
So she thought of the only person in her life who met the necessary specifications.
Laurel Payne.
But should she talk to even Laurel in this situation? Would it be fair to Frank? She struggled with the problem and decided it would be all right, because what she told Laurel would remain confidential. No worry on that score.
And her need was very great
Eventually, she picked up the phone and dialed. When she put it down she was truly relaxed. Laurel would be over in half an hour.
Laurel Payne, tall blonde, exquisitely beautiful and magnetically sophisticated, had been Laurel Turner. A college friend, she'd met Jim Paynn through Caron, there in the city, after Caron married Frank Lovell.
Jim and Frank had grown up together in Winston, a town some ten miles from Caron's native Ludlow. Both towns were on the perimeters of the city where so many young people came in search of opportunities the small towns did not afford.
There were many of their own generation whom Frank and Caron knew in the city; young men and worn-men who had come there in pursuit of opportunity. There were Mike and Grace Bevins, who traveled in the same circle. There was Tom Weathers, who married Alice Vance, a city girl Caron had never really liked very well, but who was also in the immediate circle.
Others of the old teen-age crowd were around, but they had formed other groups.
Then too, there were the ones who had disappeared but who were still wondered about and commented on at times. Clete Watts was reputed to have gone with the CIA and was thus a thrilling mystery figure to be mentioned with pride. Also, the dramatic and star-crossed Windsor trip, Lee and Carl, the twins, and Barbara, their beautiful sister.
Of course, the Windsors had never really mixed with the crowd. Not that they were purposely aloof. They just didn't seem to fit easily. There was an aura of glamour about them, and their tragedy somehow added to this. Caron had always thought of Barbara as the most beautiful girl she'd ever seen. A lovely fragile blonde, Caron always remembered Barbara as floating instead of walking.
Lying there in bed, waiting for Laurel, Caron thought it strange that she should be remembering the Windsors, picking them out of her recollections. Of course, the drama involved made them excellent subjects for recollection.
Orphaned at an early age, the three Windsor children had been left a great deal of money and were under the guardianship of two mysterious uncles. They lived on what was actually an estate when compared with the other homes in and around Ludlow. A huge lawn separated it from the local world and the uncles separated themselves even more definitely. They entertained friends from the city and did not mix locally at all. Involved in some sort of wholesale jewelry business, they were always called "the diamond family," by way of local identification. The name Windsor was seldom used.
The uncles, however, did not extend their aloofness to their wards. The twins and Barbara attended public schools and were allowed to mix with the natives so long as they didn't bring them past the big lawn. They never really joined in because they could not reciprocate in the realm of hospitality.
Also, Barbara was considered snobbish by the other girls teen-agers being too young to realize that her remoteness was merely a defense against a situation she could do nothing about.
Then came the accident. One night, quite late, the three of them were coming home from somewhere and their sports car crashed into the high stone wall bordering Peterson's apple orchard west of Ludlow.
Rumor had been flying at school the next day but eventually certain facts became known. Carl was killed. Lee was frightfully mutilated. Barbara came off well, physically, but the shock incapacitated her mentally and emotionally, at least for a time.
And that was the end of the Windsor saga so far as the local people eve' knew The diamond family vanished almost overnight. They left no forwarding address.
Caron often wondered after that, what had happened to them. It was a little like not getting the last installment of a magazine serial.
But what she always remembered was Barbara's shimmering beauty. She always thought her own dark, warm attractiveness was shabby in comparison.
As she lay there, her mind drifted to Clete Watts. The CIA thing had been merely a rumor. Later, she'd heard that he'd been seen by someone at the big electronics factory just at the edge of the city That, too, might have beev an inaccuracy
Still waiting for the sound of the doorbell, she paused in her recollections to wonder about them. Under the circumstances, her mind should have been rooted in the present. Why was it wandering back among old ghosts? Then the bell sounded and she got up to answer it.
"You poor darling"
This was Laurel's exclamation of sympathy after Caron had poured out the story of her nightmare.
Laurel was remotely gorgeous as usual. She was perfectly groomed. Caron had never seen her otherwise. And as she sat there on the edge of the bed, it occurred to Caron that Laurel might have been the subconscious reason for her own meanderings into the past. Laurel's beauty was so like Barbara Windsor's. This was only a fleeing thought, pushed away by her compulsive need to talk.
"You're all right now, though?" Laurel asked. "Yes. I'm not injured."
"You told Frank."
"Yes."
"What was his reaction?"
"First, to rush right to the police. Then I think I changed his mind."
"You don't want to go to the police."
"I can't face the publicity, Laurel."
Laurel extended a quick hand. She was such a comfort. Nothing maudlin about Laurel. She was sharp and practical and as some of her not-quite-so close friends said, a little too broad-minded and sophisticated for her own good. At times, many thought she bordered on the vulgar.
But Caron knew better Laurel was a rock, and a girl couldn't have a finer or more sincere friend.
And so very wise and perceptive.
She demonstrated this wisdom and perception a few minutes later as she noted the trend of the conversation?
"Darling, are you sure you want to talk about this? The actual details, I mean? Perhaps it's better if you start forgetting them right away."
"No, I want to talk because everything was so strange." Caron smiled, and the smile made her look like a little girl in bed with a cold. "There was nothing at all like what I'd imagined getting raped would be like."
Laurels regal blue eyes seemed to darken. "I suppose every woman ever born has thought of being taken violently at one time or another.'
"I remember thinking about that as soon as I found out about men."
"Psychologists say there is a great deal of fascination in the idea for a lot of women. Do you remember what Alice Weathers said that night at bridge? The night she'd had 't little too much to drink?"
"Yes. She said that if she could be sure of not being injured, she'd like to be raped as an experience."
"She was joking-, of course, or thought she was. But there was probably more behind her words than martinis."
Caron's eyes grew vague "This man appeared from nowhere, actually from nowhere. My first inkling of his presence was when he grabbed me."
"You must have been sick with fright."
"I think I was more stunned. Then he was pulling me into the park. I dragged along on my heels."
"You couldn't scream?"
"He had a hand over my mouth. Then, when he got me into the park, I was afraid to. I was afraid of what he might do to me before help came."
"I can understand that."
"And yet, except when he was actually at that time, and later, he wasn't violent at all. He was almost gentle."
"I wonder how accurate your recollections really are?"
"Very accurate, I think. He got me into the park and said, 'I'm sorry, but you must undress.' And that was when everything became so terribly weird."
"He didn't tear your clothes off while you were struggling with him?"
"I didn't struggle with him., After he told me to undress, I stood there for a moment, staring at him, cringing, I guess. He took a step closer and extended his hands and said, 'Here, I'll help you.' And he began unbuttoning my dress."
"You were wise not to fight him. You may have saved your life by keeping your head."
Caron passed a hand over her forehead as though trying to dispel a fog. "But I wasn't frightened. At least I don't think I was. There was his manner. And there was some light there, so I could see his face. There was no lewdness or lust ot anger in it. Almost a sadness."
"Mental instability has strange ways of reflecting, I guess."
Caron looked at her friend beseechingly. "Laurel, I think I actually felt sorry for him."
Laurel shrugged briefly. "And a victim's defense mechanism under such circumstances can also take strange shapes."
Caron's eyes again went distant. "I stood there and he undressed me, garment by garment, and then the really strange part happened."
"He put my dress on the ground then my garter belt and each stocking one at a time He went to one knee with my stockings and put a hand on his shoulder to balance myself '
Emotion began showing through Caron raised her head to look starkly at her friend. "Laurel! I didn't fight! I just stood there. Why didn't I fight?"
Laurel reached out and laid a hand on Caron's shoulder. "Honey, take it easy"
"I didn't want to be raped, did I."
"Of course not."
"Then why?"
"Baby, look at things this way. If you were a mental patient under analysis, you could ask your psychiatrist that question. And he'd have a logical answer for you. But you aren't. You're a perfectly competent young woman who never had any emotional problems, so don't start making them for yourself."
"Why wasn't I frightened?'
"Maybe you were. How can you be sure you weren't just because you acted sensibly and gave him no reason to hurt you?"
"Anyhow, he undressed me. He put each garment in a different place, almost as though he were laying out a diagram of some sort. Weird. As though placing the clothes correctly was important. Then, while I stood there naked, he very carefully tied three knots in my dress."
Laurel stared, and Caron as though making her believe this was vitally important, said, "You know. You remember what the boys used to tell about? How they'd tie each other's clothes when they went in swimming?"
"Yes, I remember."
"Well, that's how he was. Then, when he had my dress tied in knots, he dropped on the ground and took me."
"You poor kid."
"There was no viciousness then, either. At first, Laurel, I'm sure he would rather have not done that."
There "was frank disbelief in Laurel's expression now. "Honey, I think you reached for that one."
"But that's how he acted."
"You still didn't fight him?"
"No."
"Darling, that was sensible."
"Sensible, nothing! I was petrified. His indifference vanished quickly and there was passion. And then..."
"Caron, what are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to tell the truth. Somehow, I feel I've got to tell someone exactly what happened."
"All right, baby. I'm your someone. Tell me, exactly."
"Laurel " There was a stricken note in Caron's voice. "I think we both forgot where we were and who we were."
Laurel smiled as though things had become clear. "Honey, you had me puzzled for a while. I couldn't figure out why you had a compulsion to protect this man. To excuse him and make allowances for him."
"What do you mean?'
"You, feel guilty. You think you're been untrue to Frank because . . " Laurel leaned closer and took Caron's hand " ... because, honey, you liked him."
"Laurel! You're wrong! I didn't!"
"Let's be realistic. He was no doubt an attractive man. He took you into the park and you expected him to hurt you. But he didn't Sc you were grateful. You were relieved. And in your life.. " Seeing unspoken denial in Caron's face, Laurel paused, but went on. "Caron, I'm no psychologist. But what I'm telling you is obvious from what you've told me. You feel you were untrue to Frank because you liked being raped. But that's ridiculous. The man was a good lover. Isn't that the honest truth?"
"A better lover than Frank. Isn't that true."
"No! No!"
"All right. Different. A novelty. Sweetie, you'd be surprised how many women love their husbands and remain faithful but still wonder how an exciting interlude with another man would be."
Caron looked miserable and confused.
"Look at things this way, baby. What happened, you couldn't have prevented from happening, so where's your guilt? You've had an experience a lot of women would envy you for. So forget about the whole thing."
"But the man was so oh, I don't know. Laurel. When that was ever he looked at me and said, 'I'm sorry I can't help you. I'd like to, but it's impossible.' Then he went away."
"A real kook from the beginning to end. Forget this, baby."
"I'll try."
"Nobody knows about this except you and Frank and I?"
"That's right. And the man."
"We can charge him off. I don't think he'll complicate your life any further. Now for heaven's sake don't tell Frank you talked to me. He'd go through the ceiling."
"I won't."
"And take comfort in the fact that you won't have your so-called iriends rallying around licking their chops while they sympathize with you."
"It was as though I knew him from somewhere," Caron murmured.
"You didn't hear a word I said."
"Oh, yes I did. Laurel, you're wonderful for being so understanding."
Laurel smiled, obviously determined to lighten the mood of the conversation. "You know something, honey? I kind of envy you. I think tonight I'll walk past that park myself."
"Laurel, don't laugh at me!"
"I'm sorry, honey. But I'm not laughing, not really. I'm just telling you that you were lucky and I do mean that. I'm telling you to pui this out of your mind."
"I'm going to Ludlow tomorrow."
"I've got to run, baby," Laurel cut in. "I've got a hair appointment " She no doubt divined why Caron was going back to the home town, but perhaps felt confidences had been carried far enough. "Thanks for coming."
"Forget it. And why don't you get out of that bed now and do something constructive, like getting dressed?"
After Laurel! left, Caron took her advice. And she felt much better.
CHAPTER TWO
A YEAR PRIOR TO THE NIGHT CARON LOVELL WAS raped in Blueside Park, Lee Windsor lay on a cot in his psychiatrist's office and went through a highly traumatic experience. He'd been under psychiatry off and on for years since the tragedy in Ludlow had robbed him of his brother Carl.
For some time after that accident, he'd been in no state to mourn Carl nor greatly miss him. Nor had he been able to be of much comfort to his sister. His own injuries precluded this.
As it so developed, this did not deprive her greatly, because the tragedy put her into a pitiable state. The shock unhinged her mind to a point that she had lived in a fog from that night on. A merciful fog, perhaps. At any rate, she was not required to face the stark grief of the tragedy.
Lee's prime injury had been incredible damage to his face, which was butchered in the crash. This had been the reason for the sudden exodus of the diamond family from Ludlow. The Windsor uncles moved surely and directly to a location more convenient for the vital attention Lee needed.
He was put in the hands of the most competent plastic surgeons available and twenty-thousand dollars and three years later, their miraculous creative abilities became apparent They gave him a new face.
They could do nothing for what had happened to his mind, though. Help in that area was far more difficult to administer.
One good man after another probed and failed. Other psychiatrists tried and time passed, but the mind was far harder to repair than the face. His thoughts went back to the night of the tragedy and insisted on dwelling there. That terrible night became a compulsive preoccupation while new weeks and months went by.
The notes which one psychiatrist passed on to the next revealed some interesting facets of his case from a professional viewpoint. Lec had been very close to his dead brother and this, in the beginning, appeared to be the paramount problem in his mental and emotional rehabilitation. Finally, the detachment was made, but by transference in that the morbidity to which he'd fallen victim remained strong, grew even stronger, as it centered upon his sister Barbara.
There is something more. That was a note that one of the men had jotted down while taking notes, and had been duly considered by later psychiatrists. They all agreed There was definitely something more that hadn't been just the accident that night. The memory was too much of a malignant tumor in Lee's mind.
But none of them had been able to open the tumor and extract the poison, so Lee had gone on with his life, able to live and function, but a complete cripple so far as creating and enjoying the normal satisfying progressions of human existence
Until that afternoon on the couch of his last psychiatrist.
The block was not cleared away in spectacular fashion as many lay people imagine such clarifications occur. In fact, the psychiatrist himself was not aware of what he'd accomplished. Watching his patient, he saw a sudden physical reaction. Lee tensed his fists. His expression reflected what might have been horror from a sudden psychiatrist leaned forward, waiting for the breakthrough.
But it didn't come. It seemed to the practitioner that another sort of stiffening took place other than that of the flesh. A stiffening of the spirit
Had he practiced his art boldly at that precise moment, things might have been different. But he chose to wait; not to drive his questions in ruthlessly, but to move with caution.
"Something came back to you."
Lee's look was crafty. "Yes."
"About that night."
"Yes."
"Tell me."
"Nothing important."
"You can't be sure of that."
"You told me I was the fortunate one."
"Yes. You came through the accident."
"But you were wrong. I was the unlucky one."
"How do you arrive at that conclusion?"
"Carl was killed. It was best.' If he'd survived, he would have lost his mind and lived in hell for the rest of his life."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because it's true "
"But what is your reason for believing he couldn't have coped with the after-effects of the accident?"
Lee ignored the question. "And Barbara. It would have been better if she'd died, but at least she lives in a mental vacuum. The part of her that would suffer was destroyed when the car hit the stone wall."
Unsatisfactory That was the psychiatrist's verdict. Something had happened. The mental abscess had broken but not drained: Soon, perhaps. Time was his ally.
But time did not help. Lee changed as the sessions went on. He continued with the therapy but he began guarding his mind until he became very skillful.
Then he began missing appointments and dropped away altogether.
But he became more self-reliant and purposeful outside the psychiatrist's office. For two months after that fateful session he did little but walk the streets and engage in some inner struggle of his own. And sometime during that two months he made the strange decision that was to have its affect on several lives.
He began gathering information.
When this phase of his new operation was completed, he had assembled pertinent data that read:
Frank Lovell.
Wife Caron Lovell. 826 Morningside Drive.
James Payne.
Wife Laurel Payne. 914 Grove Street.
Clete Watts.
Wife Elizabeth Watts. 1110 Wellington Drive.
Thomas Weathers.
Wife Alice Weathers. 1708 Myrtle Drive.
Michael Bevins.
Wife Grace Bevins. 10 Lincoln Circle Crystal Heights.
This was the list of people Lee Windsor had gone about locating. Then, with his time, his money, and his compulsion to know more, he learned everything about them that was possible to discover.
The business of the husbands; the habits of each couple jointly and separately; their reputations in the communities in which they lived; the personal traits of each of them.
He knew, among other things, that Tom Weathers was jealous of Alice, his attractive, red-headed wife. And with justification, for she was not above clandestine affairs with attractive men.' He knew that Mike Bevins did some traveling in his job, and that Grace had a friend or two who took his place on some of these occasions.
He discovered also, that Jim Payne had keys to his secretary's apartment and that some of his after-hour work was handled there.
These, and other bits of pertinent data went to make up the dossier he compiled, the confidential file upon which he based his plans.
Some of his persona! jottings during those eight months would have alarmed his psychiatrist, various samples in particular:
The vengeance must take the same form as the crime. If the women are innocent victims, so be it. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. They did not kill, there they shall not be killed Death would be lenient. They must be made to die inside, as my brother and I died that night. The things they hold most dear must be destroyed. They must see retribution approaching, and their guts must twist in agony as they anticipate, the end. Five evil men who must pay for what they did.
The final note in Lee Windsor's diary was short and to the point.
The preparation is over. Now J proceed.
That night, Caron Lovell was raped in Blueside Park ...
The next day, Frank Lovell didn't get much work done. He left home that morning and went directly to his office. But he couldn't concentrate on the affairs that should have occupied him and after pacing his office for an hour, he seized the phone and dialed a number. A secretary with a bedroom voice put him through.
"Jim? This is Frank. Frank Lovell."
"Sure, Frank, how:s tricks? You been behaving yourself?"
"Look, Jim, something's happened. I want to talk to you."
"Okay, how about lunch?"
"No, I'd rather make it after work. That'll give us a little more time if we need it."
"Sounds important."
"Maybe, maybe not. I've just got to talk to you."
"How about the Welton Hotel bar?"
"I'll be there at five-thirty."
And nothing was very important to Frank Lovell that day until he was facing his boyhood friend across a table in the dimly lit bar.
Jim Payne, slim, handsome, had an air of sophistication about him that tended to deny his small-town beginnings. It was said that Laurel suited him perfectly, that she was exactly the kind of woman he needed, and that they made a very handsome couple.
"You sounded serious as hell," Jim said as he lifted his glass. He savored the first cocktail-hour sip, relishing it visibly. "Good! Nothing like that first mouthful hitting your stomach."
Lovell ignored his own drink. "I was serious."
"Then let's have it"
"Jim, I'm going to tell you something I know you won't pass on."
"Confidential? Of course. You know me."
"Caron was raped last night."
Jim's glass stopped halfway to his mouth. He sighted over it into Frank's eyes. Then he took a second sip, swallowed slowly, and put the glass down
"You're kidding . where?"
"In Blueside Park ol the way home from playing bridge "
"In a cab?"
"She was walking."
"The little fool! She could at least have taken a bus."
"She usually calls me and I pick her up. Last night, she didn't."
"How did this happen?"
"She was pulled into the park after being grabbed off the sidewalk '
"A gang?"
"No, just one man"
"Did the police get him?"
"We didn't go to the police."
Payne pursed his lips while he thought that over. He nodded. "I can understand. Was she hurt badly?"
'No, not in terms of physical injury. There was certainly emotional shock, but I think she'll be all right."
"I'm certainly glad to hear that, old man. What can I do to help?"
"Nothing really. It's nice of you to offer."
"Look, Laurels mighty understanding. She might be able to give Caron some comfort. Why don't I send her over?"
Frank shook his head "Thanks, but I don't think it would help. Caron just wants to forget."
"Of course"
"But there was something else, Jim. This may be the wildest kind of a coincidence, but...."
Jim finished his martini and said, "Look, Frank. We're old friends. Tell me whatever you have to tell me. Don't feel embarrassed "
Frank gripped the stem of his glass. "I've got to go back, Jim back a few years to Ludlow just before we all graduated from high school."
A look of wariness appeared in Jim's eyes.
"There were five of us that night. You and I and Tom Weathers and . . "
"You don't have to name them," Jim said coldly.
"It was the night we..."
"Now look here! I sympathize with you for what happened to Caron, but you aren't going to help yourself by nourishing your guilt complex. We made a pact, remember? The five of us. And that was a damned important pact. We would never refer to that incident again. Each of us would tell himself that didn't happen."
"I know."
"Then why are you bringing that up."
"Because I've got to. It's for your good as well as mine."
"I fail to see how your wife getting into trouble."
"Damn it, Jim, listen to me! You remember that night. Regardless of what we told ourselves, we all remember. You recall how crazy and nightmarish that was. The booze we had in us running the show."
Jim glanced around. "Frank, keep your voice down. There are other people in this bar."
"You remember what I did with the dress?"
A visible change came over Payne. His expression said that he remembered, indeed ... that he was regarding the incident with relish, with a certain dreadful fascination.
"Uh-huh. You tied it in knots."
"That's right. A silly, stupid thing to do."
"I guess it must not have seemed that way to you at the time, though."
"We were all crazy drunk!"
"But now that's over. Forget it!"
"I had forgotten. Right up to the moment Caron told me that the rapist did the same thing."
"What?"
"Tied her dress in knots."
Jim stared, and Frank felt a certain satisfaction at having rocked him.
"If you'll recall, there was more than just that. After I tied the dress in knots, the rest of you entered into the spirit."
"Not me! i didn't do anything until Lee and Carl Windsor found us. Then I helped."
"Before that. When I tied her dress, Clete Watts, I think it was, knelt down and pulled her slip out from under her. She was lying on it. He hung the slip carefully on a bush and Mike picked up the rest of her clothes and spread them around."
"I remember," Jim said quietly
"I wish I could recall the exact pattern."
"How would that help?"
"The guy that raped Caron spread her clothes around in a pattern."
Jim didn't reply. His face was heavy with thought as he signalled for new drinks. They sat silent, each man involved in his own mental world until the drinks came. Then Jim Payne turned his glass slowly, making a wet ring.
"Carl was killed in that accident, of course. And I heard Barbara went to a mental home. 'But what about Lee? Did you ever hear what happened to him?"
"No. But I never tried to find out. I never wanted to know. Did you?"
"No. I couldn't have cared less. But now..."
"What about Barbara? Is she around the city somewhere?"
Jim raised his eyes quickly. "Frank, why did you come to me with this."
"Come to you?"
"Yes. Why didn't you go to any of the other three? Or have you gone to them?'
Frank shook his head. "I contacted you because we were closer to each other in the old days. I think we understood each other better."
"I always felt closer to you, too." For an instant, Jim Payne's image of urban sophistication was stripped away. His eyes turned wistful, his mouth softened and the brittleness disappeared.
"Frank, why did we do it?"
"I don't know."
"We weren't bad kids. And I say that objectively. We did the usual things high school kids do. We talked a lot and tried to act as though we knew it all. But that one night...."
"It was a kind of madness, I guess."
"Too much to drink "
"Just the right circumstances."
"When we drove out there, none of us had the least idea that was going to happen."
"Then I guess that got to be a chicken proposition. Nobody dared back down,"
"I think we hated Lee and Carl, too."
"And Barbara was so high-hat."
"We wanted to bring her down, that was for sure."
Frank shook his head as though trying to dispel cobwebs. "But none of that means anything now. Beside I've had enough self-recrimination through the years."
"I can say the same."
"The question now is-what are we going to do."
"Let's explore a little more," Jim suggested. "Several questions occur to me."
"Such as?"
"Why now? Why eight or ten years later? Granting of course that this is some grotesque revenge on Lee Windsor's part?"
"That point alone seems incredible. Maybe we're assuming too much in pinning it on him. Couldn't his spreading Caron's clothes around have been sheer coincidence?"
"If you believe that, why did you come to me?"
"I didn't say I believe that, I was asking you."
"I'll only say this, we have reason to wonder about a man waiting so long for revenge. We've also got a right to question the kind of revenge he's taking. We, the five of us, are the culprits. The idea of taking this out on our wives is pretty far-fetched."
Frank asked, "What about the others? Do you think we should alert them?"
"I've been trying to make up my mind," Jim replied.
"I honestly don't think we've got enough to raise an issue on yet."
Jim smiled wryly. "Shall we wait for another rape, then?"
"That's a callous way of putting it, but...."
"I'm inclined to agree with you. It occurs to me if we talk to them with what we've got, we won't get a verdict. One or two are bound to disagree. Then, if nothing further happens, we'll look foolish."
"Have you any idea where we can make contact with Clete Watts? I've lost touch myself."
"I'll check around and see what I can find out."
They left it that way, each going his own way with an agreement to keep silent for the time being. But in the mind of each, a dark shadow of dread had been created. Old ghosts had returned to haunt them.
CHAPTER THREE
Laurel Payne turned her horse over to a groom at four-thirty that afternoon. They were a pair of thoroughbreds indeed, the high-spirited, alert mare, and the slim, classically beautiful, blonde woman.
"Enjoy your ride, ma'am?" The groom asked respectfully.
"It was wonderful," Laurel said. "She's a marvelous animal. See that he gets an extra bagful of oats tonight."
"I'll do that " he smiled.
Laurel turned from the stable and went directly to the parking lot where she'd left the breezy little compact convertible Jim had given her for her last birthday; for her birthday and for not objecting to his nights away from home with the cuddly' little brunette secretary he was working out with.
Jim's extramarital affairs didn't bother Laurel greatly They left her open for outside interests of her own if she cared to indulge herself. Also, she knew that Jim loved her after his fashion and that he thought too much of his public image and what she contributed to it to ever ask for a divorce.
Laurel herself had :;ot had a serious affair with another man since her marriage. Not that she was held back by any moral scruples. She just hadn't found any who interested her. Jim was a good lover and was available when she needed him, so she say' no reason why she should Clutter her life up with other men.
There were too many other interesting things in life, Laurel had always felt. She liked outdoor sports both as a participant and a spectator. She painted well, and had a talent for sculpting, and she gave both endeavors as much time as possible. So her days were quite satisfactorily full.
She was aware that men were drawn to her cool beauty; that most of them yearned for an opportunity to thaw her. This knowledge, the sight of men longing to enjoy her ample bosom and lithe, competent hips, afforded her amusement, but little more.
Just now, backing her car out of the line, she looked forward to the pleasant, four-mile drive from the riding stables back to the highway It would be over a private road that wound through lush forest lands that had thus far escaped urban encroachment. It was lonely drive but Laurel was not the timid type. Solitude held no fears for her.
She was not even alarmed when she rounded a curve about a mile from the riding stable and found the way blocked by a log laid across the road. A man stood behind the log. He rounded it and approached the car.
"Did you put that timber across the road?" Laurel asked coolly.
"I'm afraid I did." He pointed to the left. "There is a way through those bushes. I want you to turn off the road and drive in there."
"I'll do no such thing. Move that log out of my way."
The man was not handsome, in fact there was something not quite pleasant about his face, but he had a masculine virility about him that amply compensated.
"I have no time to persuade you politely," he said, "so I'll ask you but once more."
"You're out of your mind "
He opened the car door of the car, hooked a hand around the back of Laurel's neck, and jerked sharply.
Laurel rocketed out of the seat. She stumbled, went forward onto her hands and knees.
"I'm sorry you made that necessary," the man said. "Now will you get behind that wheel and do as I tell you?"
Laurel got up and dusted off the knees of her jodhpurs. "If robbery is your motive, you're wasting your time. There's a five-dollar bill in my purse nothing more."
"Robbery isn't my motive "
"I really didn't think it was. I gather that you've got something more personal on your mind."
"A great deal more personal."
"Do you think you're man enough to."
"What do you think."
"That depends on how far you'd go."
"I'll go as far as necessary."
Laurel still was not frightened. But she was truly amazed. This had to be the same man who'd taken Caron in Blueside Park There couldn't be two such polite rapists working the same general area.
"I imagine you could beat me into submission and take me," she said, "and I'm almost tempted to let you try."
"I wouldn't advise that. What would you gain by getting yourself beaten?"
"Nothing, I guess, if there's nothing to be gained in the end. I could scream of course."
"It wouldn't do you much good out here."
"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"
"I've been very thorough. Now will you get that car off the road and into hiding?"
Laurel got in behind the wheel. She estimated her chances of escaping and judged them as nil. She couldn't go over the log with the small car. And long before she could have gotten it turned around he would have her out of the driver's seat.
He stood close while she made the half-turn necessary to enter at the spot he'd indicated. She did not hurry, taking her time and wondering if perhaps after she got beyond the bushes, she could keep right on going.
When the car was no longer pointed toward the highway, he went to the log and demonstrated his remarkable strength by rolling it to the side.
"All right," he said. "Drive on in."
There was no chance to escape in that direction. The little car nosed into a snug pocket walled in by trees on all sides.
Laurel surveyed it. "You must have hunted a long time before you found this place."
"I searched for quite a while."
He was one of the strangest men Laurel had ever met. She realized this was her last chance and poised herself to spring out of the car and run. But she didn't. He'd no doubt taken that into consideration, too. He would have caught her easily.
But that was no reason for not trying and Laurel wondered why she'd accepted the rationalization so easily-
Then she knew why. She did not want to run. She was not afraid of the man, not in the least, and the situation excited her. She thought of Alice Weathers' words:
II I could be sure of not being injured, I might enjoy rape as an experience.
Is that the case with me, also?
Laurel asked herself the question and honestly felt the negative answer was true. The physical aspects of this adventure were only a part of it. It was the man himself who interested and excited her.
"Get out of the car," he said.
Laurel obeyed. He was wearing outdoorsman's pants and a rough red shirt and as he stood before Laurel he could have been directing a logging operation or superintending some other forest activity.
"What now?" Laurel asked airily.
"You aren't frightened, are you?" he asked.
"Not in the least."
"Because you think I'm fooling?"
"I think you're out of your mind."
It was the wrong thing to say. His face, already oddly taut, stiffened further into a painful grimace. His hand lashed out, ripping cruelly across Laurel's cheek.
She cried out instinctively as she staggered back against the car. She crouched there like a beautiful animal at bay.
"I was beginning to think you had at least some of a gentleman's qualifications. But I was wrong."
"You were," he said grimly. "Now take off those breeches."
Laurel straightened "Absolutely not."
"You heard my order."
"And you can go to hell. I've got sense enough not to fight impossible odds, but I'm not going to stand here and strip for you. If you want these breeches off, you'll take them off yourself. And that won't be easy."
He threw her to the ground and bent over her for and she began to fight.
Laurel was no weakling herself, and she demonstrated her strength by tearing away from him and starting off into the trees. But he caught her easily, wrapped an arm around her waist and brought her back, kicking and struggling.
He threw her to the ground and bent over her for a few moments, holding her arms outspread and helpless, and looking into her face.
"Let me up!" Laurel raged.
He was neither amused nor angered. Still holding her, he reversed himself and sat down backward on her chest.
She flailed at his back with her fists and clawed at the red shirt. "If I'm going to be raped, I'm going, to be raped!" she screamed. "But I'm damned if I'll be a docile cow and crawl for you. I'm no Caron Lovell!"
He stiffened She thought for a moment that she had again said the wrong thing, but he did not turn. He sat frozen for a few moments and then found the zipper on the side of her breeches.
She kicked her H's furiously, hammering her heels against the ground. When he'd unfastened the breeches, at the top, she pressed her hips against the ground, gritting her teeth with the effort
He callously grabbed where she was most vulnerable. Laurel's eyes bulged open with surprise and indignation at the outrage. Her hips arced upward in pain and the breeches slid down
He stripped them from her legs, pulling her boots before she recovered to the point of resisting again. He then finished taking off her pants and threw them aside.
There was one skimpy garment underneath. She realized he was contemplating.
"No! Please!" Laurel begged even while she wondered why. They would have to come off eventually.
"I'm sorry," he said, and hooked his fingers under the elastic.
There was just what Caron had described to her this rapist apologized to women while he stripped them.
Then the panties came off and he got to his feet. "You can get up now."
Laurel stood, holding her head and shoulders proudly while she faced him. "AH right. You've abused a defenseless woman. What next?"
"Put on your boot?. "
"This is ridiculous. Do what you're going to do right here. Why waste time?" "Put on your boots."
"I'm damned if I will."
He shrugged. "All right." He pointed. "Walk in that direction."
"I won't. I'm not moving a step."
He still held the white panties and now he stuck them into his pocket and bent over to snap off a wand-, like branch from a bush beside him. Grasping it at the large ended, he was in possession of a thin, formidable-looking whip. He made it sing through the air.
"Walk."
She stared at him.
He flicked his wrist. The branch lashed out and encircled her hips. She shrieked and turned away from him.
"You depraved, rotten beast!"
The whip sang again. The tip flicked against her bare behind and her body arced forward, her dignity gone as she clawed back at her unprotected posterior.
"Walk."
Laurel moved forward. The rough ground began to punish her feet. "My boots." she moaned. "It's too late. Walk." '
This was no longer a dangerous kind of fun. It had turned into a nightmare. She was being whipped naked through the forest in her bare feet. A madman was driving her on toward what was no longer something to be thrillingly anticipated.
"Please."
The whip sang. Laurel lunged forward. "Walk."
She did as he ordered, sobbing now, cursing him as she moved gingerly along trying to find the easiest place to step.
After a while, he pointed. "Climb over those rocks."
"But they're sharp. They'll cut me."
"Climb."
Not waiting for the command of the whip, Laurel struggled up over a heap of boulders. Seeking only the safest way to go. she spraddled and crawled, whimpered and clung, aware that he was behind her, observing her degradation and humiliation.
like a naked, scared animal as unconcerned about tier nudity as had been the mare she'd lately ridden. But the mare was not human Her nudity had been natural.
Laurel's nakedness was a dirty, defiling thing.
Beyond the rocks, she found a tiny, sodded park, an idyllic, beautiful spot with a creek-bubbling nearby. It would have been a perfect spot for love under other conditions.
She turned to face him as he climbed over the rocks. "Is this where?"
"This is where," he said gravely.
He advanced to her. She waited.
"Take off the rest of your clothes."
She obeyed without fight or argument this time. Then she dropped exhausted to the soft bed. She stared at him as he went about getting ready for what was to take place. Then hysteria welled to her. She was still not frightened, but she felt she was entitled to some kind of a reaction after what she'd just gone through. He pushed her down and loomed beside her, braced on wide-spread feet. He moved closer and she laughed a keening, irregular sound.
"Don't I even get kissed first?"
The strange face was close now, and she searched her mind. There was something familiar about him. Somewhere back in her consciousness, a muffled bell was trying to ring.
A strange, alien face Yet so very familiar.
But her basic preoccupations were with her own emotions. They, too, were strange; a strange part of this experience on a strange, strange, day.
The fight had gone out of her. There was no resistance left. Not even any hostility, as though she were grateful to this beast for having stopped abusing her. This was an alarming surrender on her part that should have frightened her but did not.
When his weight pressed her, her arms went automatically around him and she did not turn her face away.
His mouth found hers. And now, for the first time, she knew that his morbid, frightening, self-control had broken. She knew from the way his lips moved and the manner in which he seized her, that this was no longer a rite, a compulsive process he was working out.
And a sense of triumph swept her. She held his mouth tightly against hers. She moved her lips shamelessly and began serving him as a beaten love slave serves a master in order to avoid further punishment
A rich, sensuous excitement whined along her nerves. Never had love been like this. Never had there been for her this voluptuous feeling for the arms of a man.
With her eager mouth still open, she pulled away from him and slid her lips across his cheek. She found his ear and pressed her teeth. Now, in the rising anticipation of delight, she whispered fiercely:
"Oh, darling, love me, love me!"
A fierceness within him answered, not in words, but . in a sudden need he'd only at that moment become aware of. Reaching to her, he jerked her to a position more to his liking, the age-old position of love. His breath began to sound harsh.
Delight coursed over her.
"Hold me, lover! Punish me!"
He moved.
She cried out. Her teeth carne together at his ear. She gnawed at him like a ravenous animal, but if there was pain, he did not seem to notice.
As his body raced, she got a flash of the look in his eyes and she knew he had found a new world and she glorified in that knowledge The slave had defeated the master by serving him!
"Lover! Destroy me!"
Now her imagination went wild with the delight she had been given. She saw not a man, but a wild, raging beast. She saw not a woman but another animal in need of what the male beast had to give.
She saw not a degrading flight across the woods with a whip flicking at her naked buttocks, but an animal fleeing in terror from what she knew would overtake her; what, in the end she would submit to because that was the eternal law.
These were the wild images that raced through Laurel's mind as the first true delight of physical love raced through her body.
But there was more. Her own eagerness was, in a way, her undoing. She found that high, unspeakably exquisite peak first and was hurtled down the far side ahead of him. Immediately, her nerves protested. They could take no more. His maddened passion was unbearable.
"No! Stop! I can't take any more!"
If he heard her, he paid no attention, his savage attack heightening as he raced on toward the finish.
"No! No!"
She struggled uselessly. She screamed from that which had been ecstasy but was now unbearable torture.
Then, after a last, supreme arcing effort to tear her in two, he collapsed and lay still. Only his lungs, like desperate bellows, heaved frantically. She held him close. Slowly, his agony subsided. He became suddenly motionless.
She waited. Then she knew he had passed out.
It did not occur to her to take advantage of a situation that put her in command, because even now there was no fear in her. Nor was there any hostility.
But there was an overpowering curiosity and she reached out, groping for the place he had dropped his trousers. Working quickly, she found his wallet, held it over her head, and opened it. He did not move. She found what she wanted, read it, and slipped the wallet back into his pocket.
He stirred a couple of minutes later. After opening his eyes he stared at her dully as though trying to remember where he was.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes."
It was ridiculous. The raped inquiring after the rapist's health. Grounds for vast laughter. But Laurel did not even smile. .
"Why did you do this?'
He was halfway to his feet and when she spoke, he paused where he was, looking like a sprinter set upon his mark, awaiting the sound of the starting gun.
"To keep from committing murder."
"That's a strange answer "
"It's the true answer"
He straightened and began dressing and again things made no sense. She lay where she was, watching him, a woman replete, satisfied, but with curiosity instead of love highlighting her face.
"Who are you?"
"It doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
"So you can go to the police?'
"No. Caron didn't go to the police."
"What do you know about Caron?"
"She's my best friend."
This did not surprise him. He silently went on dressing
"You aren't going to tell me your name."
"No."
"But I have a right to know who rapes me."
Her voice was faintly taunting. He looked at her.
"You don't resent what i did?"
"Oh, my, no. Men drag me into the woods and strip me and have their way with me every day."
"I won't bother you again."
"It wasn't by chance that you took both Caron and me, was it?"
"No, not by chance."
Now she smiled, the taunt in her expression deepening. "Was I better than she was?" When he didn't answer, she asked the second question. "Did you enjoy me more?"
He was pulling on his shirt. "I never really had a woman, until now."
"I suppose I ought to feel complimented."
"Feel as you please."
"I feel complimented."
"You weren't frightened?"
"Caron told me how you treated her. I didn't think I had any cause to be scared."
"Did she tell her husband."
"Yes."
"You must tell your husband, too."
"He would find you and kill you."
"I want him to know "
"I won't tell him. I don't want him to get involved in a murder."
"Then I'll tell him. I'll see that he finds out."
"Why do you want that?"
He was dressed now. Ignoring her question, he said, "I'm sorry I can't help you."
"You mean I've got to find my way back to my car alone?"
"It won't be difficult"
"But, my feet! I'll cut them to pieces."
"Walk carefully.'
He was moving away. Laurel sprang to her feet. "Let me go with you. I'm afraid alone."
"No one will find you out here." He took her panties from his pocket and tossed them to her. "You can find the rest of your clothes."
She looked at the panties ruefully. "These are certainly a big help."
"Tell your husband," he said, "or I will."
He was moving out of the little park. "Whom shall I tell him raped me?" she called after him.
"I think he'll know. Be sure and tell him about my driving you with a whip. It's very important...."
Laurel put on her panties and picked her way carefully back toward the car. She was really frightened now. What if a stray hunter found her in this condition? Good lord, she thought. I might be raped.
Now everything did seem funny, and she laughed.
The effect was spectacular; a beautiful golden blonde clad only in transparent panties picking her way gingerly over the rough forest floor giggling to herself.
But no one benefited from the drama because that part of the forest was deserted and it remained so until Laurel got back to her car.
Then she backed her car out of its secluded niche and drove home.
CHAPTER FOUR
Frank Lovell had a day at the office. Nothing went right. He made mistakes and got fouled up until, around four o'clock, he sat back and faced the situation squarely.
He had functioned inefficiently because every time he tried to concentrate, the image of Caron intruded itself.
Caron stripped naked in Blueside Park. Caron and another man's arms. Caron lying in the grass with another man.
Of course, that hadn't been her fault and he certainly couldn't hold the incident against her. But could he be really sure of that? Had she told him the truth?
It seemed strange to him now that she hadn't resisted. She could have screamed. She could have fought.
What had really happened there in Blueside Park?
As he mulled these suspicions over, they grew and thrived. Nourished by his shame and anger, he saw
Caron smiling, clinging to the man, kissing him, caressing him:
"Darling, what will I tell my husband?"
"Who cares about him?"
"He'll want to know where I've been."
Tell him you were raped in the park."
"He wouldn't believe that."
"He can't prove otherwise."
Resolutely, Frank fought these insane fantasies. They were ridiculous. Caron hadn't been lying. She couldn't possibly have dreamed up the story of how the man treated her, the way he spread her clothes around.
So even while he knew his imaginings were lies, he couldn't banish them from his mind.
He left work early and went to a bar and ordered a martini. Sitting there, brooding over it, he thought of the other men who were involved that night in the woods outside Ludlow. Tom Weathers. Mike Bevins. Clete Watts. They had been more responsible than he.
Jim Payne had been the ringleader, no doubt about that. The others had followed and he himself had been the most reluctant of all. He'd wanted to confess and get the incident off his conscience. They'd talked him out of confessing
So why should he suffer like this when they were getting off scot-tree?
The injustice angered him.
He went to the telephone.
Payne got the call just as he was ready to leave the office.
"Jim? This is Frank Lovell."
"I've been thinking."
"What about?"
"You know what about. I've been thinking about the others. We ought to aiert them."
"We talked that over and decided to wait."
"I know, but why should we bear the brunt of this thing? They were there that night, too."
"Frank! You're making too much of this."
The reply came back savagely. "Sure! But your wife wasn't raped. Only my wife, so nobody gives a damn!"
"All right, then why didn't you go to the police and make a report? They'll get the guy. That's what you pay their salaries for."
"You're a big help "
"What can I do? What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to quit treating this as unimportant."
"Frank, for God'? sake' Stop and think. We can make a big mistake here. We could all be ruined. We've got to wait and see what happens."
Lovell growled. "I still think we should get in touch with the others."
"Where are you?"
"I'm in a bar near my office."
"It figures."
"What do you mean by that."
"You've been lapping it up."
"Is that any of your damn business."
"Frank, I'm sorry. But do me a favor, will you? Go home and think this over Don't do anything tonight.
I'll call you tomorrow."
There was another growl and the conversation ended.
Jim sat back and pondered the situation. He was angry. Why did things have to get all messed up? Why did that louse have to start muddying up the waters? So Caron had gotten dragged into the park. So what? She hadn't been hurt. Now everybody was going to have to suffer.
Jim's secretary, Linda Vale, entered his private office. She was a small, dark girl with a vital aura. She'd made Jim's blood move faster the first moment he'd seen her.
She marched to his desk on beautiful little legs and they went through the routine they always adhered to in the office. This consisted of playing safe.
"Here are those letters, Mr. Payne."
"Thank you, Miss Vale. But I think I'll sign them in the morning. It's getting late."
She moved around the desk and stood beside his chair with the letters still in her hand in case anyone came in.
She waited and he knew what she was waiting for so he obliged her His hand dropped to her ankle. It was a slim, attractive ankle and he could get his fingers clear around it.
He grasped, and her hand began moving upward.
"I can sign them for you if you like."
"Why don't you? Then you can drop them into the mail tonight
His hand was at her knee, now. He was aware of the muscles tightening. He toyed gently with one of her garters.
"I'll write the letter to Stebbins tomorrow, if you don't mind. I didn't get to it today."
"That's all right."
She put the letters down and leaned her knuckles against the edge of the desk. His hand went higher. Her body quivered.
"Today was heavy. I fell behind."
His hand could go no higher now. Linda leaned her weight against the desk. She caught her lower lip in her teeth and half-closed her eyes.
"So do you," she whispered.
He smiled up at her, his hand working gently under her skirt. She raised her head, turned her face to his in a slow, sensuous movement.
"A good job," he repeated, his smile sly now as he watched her. "I couldn't get along without you."
Her whole body was quivering. She whispered something under her breath.
"What did you say, Miss Vale?"
"You know very well what I said."
"I think you were swearing at me."
"I was."
Her knuckles whitened as they pressed against the desk. Her knees quivered. She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Get the letter out to Stebbins the first thing in the morning."
"I will."
She stiffened and then relaxed and he thought she was going to fall. She took a deep ragged breath and looked at aim. He was grinning.
"You're a rat, Mr. Payne, doing a thing like that to a girl in the office where she can't defend herself."
"That's me, Jim Payne rat."
"I'll get even, though."
"I accept the challenge."
"Tonight?'
"I'll be over later."
"I'll be waiting."
When Frank Lovell got home, he was relieved to find Caron already back from her trip to Ludlow. He was glad because he'd anticipated finding an empty apartment, and it would have been depressive. He gave no sign of this, however, the sullen expression remaining on his face.
"I saw old Doc Spencer. I was very lucky. I didn't call for an appointment, I just went, and I only had to wait ten minutes'
Why didn't she stop prattling and say what was on both their minds? Still, he made no effort to say it himself.
"How is Doc."
"Oh, he's fine."
"And your check-up? Everything okay."
"Everything's fine."
He felt like slapping her. Couldn't she for his sake get out of the groove? Everything was just fine, fine, fine.
"Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes, darling. Would you like a drink?"
He wondered if she'd called the guy in the park darling. Lying there on the grass with him. Oh, darling, darling.
"No, I stopped and had a couple on the way home."
"But you never do that."
His anger flared. "Look! I'm a grown man. I stopped in a bar and had a drink! Do you want to make a production out of it?"
The hurt reflected in her voice and in her eyes. "Frank, you don't have to bite my head off. I just said it was unusual for you to stop off at a bar. And it is. You know very well you always come straight home."
"Skip it. I'm sorry I'm a little touchy, that's all."
"A rough day at the office, darling?"
An agony of frustration hit him. Why couldn't they talk? Why couldn't they communicate?
"Caron, there's a question I have to ask you."
"What is it, darling?"
"That man. The man who dragged you into the park. Did you recognize him."
"What are you saying?"
Her sharp reaction mystified him. "I was only asking if you recognized the man."
"I heard what you said. And I think it's terrible of you. You're implying that I knew him that I went there with him!"
"That's ridiculous. I'm implying no such thing."
"You are too implying that!"
Why was she so touchy? Why was she flaring up like this? A sense of guilt? Had he actually been right in suspecting her?
"It just occurred to me that he might have followed you. That's possible, isn't it? He could have seen you shopping or coming out of a store and been attracted to you."
She was partially mollified. "I guess that's right. I just hadn't thought of that."
'But you don't remember ever having seen him before?"
"I don't think so."
"But you're not positive."
Caron's frown put two cute little perpendicular wrinkles between her eyes. Under other circumstances this might have made Frank grab her and plant a kiss on them. But at the moment they only annoyed him.
"It's funny that you should mention this, but there was something familiar about his face."
He writhed inwardly. How could he say this? How could he ask the question without coming right out with the truth?
Was the man who raped you Lee Windsor, a man we both knew back in Ludlow?
"Maybe he reminded you of someone you'd seen a long time ago?"
She shook her head. "I can't really say. But his face was definitely familiar "
"Sometimes you don't see a person for years and it's difficult to remember
"Frank, what are you driving at?"
"Oh, nothing of importance."
"I want to help anyway that I can."
He wasn't required to go into this any further because Caron's nose twitched at that moment and she sprang to her feet.
"The broiler-" And she rushed into the kitchen.
Alone, he mulled the thing over. Caron would certainly have recognized Lee instantly. She said there'd been enough light to see the rapist's face.
Then what was the answer? Had he been wrong about the whole thing? Had it been a casual attack by a degenerate acting on. the spur of the moment?
There were things Frank had to know before he could let this matter rest. He would have to take a day off from the job tomorrow.
Payne hurried home so that he could have a quick dinner and get out again
As he entered the apartment, he kissed Laurel perfunctorily, but pleasantly, and sniffed the air.
"What's for dinner?"
"Are you in a hurry?"
"As a matter-of-fact, I am. Got a load at the office. I'll have to go back tonight and hit it again."
Laurel made no comment. She put dinner on the table and they talked of casual things while they ate. But as he bounced up, dropping his napkin on the table, Laurel sat back, surveyed him coolly, and said, "Jim, if you've got a few minutes, there's something I'd like to tell you."
"Can it wait, sweet? I really am in a hurry."
She smiled slowly, amusement in her eyes. "This work load of yours is it by chance at Miss Vale's apartment?
"Laurel!"
His was not so much indignant as hurt. She wasn't playing fair.
"Just a thought," she murmured. "I'm surprised at you '
"You didn't think I was unaware of your activities, did you?"
"No, but I did suppose you had the decency to leave the subject alone.'
"I was being unfair.'
"I don't inquire into your days."
"No, you don't. Sometimes, I wish you would, but that's beside the point
"What is it you wanted to tell me?"
"About my day. I was raped this afternoon."
A cold weight hit the pit of Jim Lovell's stomach.
"Laurel!"
"Oh, don't be alarmed, darling I'm quite all right, except that my feet are a little sore."
"Your feet! Will you stop joking and tell me "
"Don't fret. I'm going to tell you all, sweet. This man stopped me on the road back from the riding stable. In the woods. He made me hide the car and then he took my breeches off."
Jim was on his feet staring at her as though she weren't quite real. "Do you have to treat this as though the thing were a hilarious experience?"
"I have to give you the details. I'll tell you why later. He stripped me naked and then we took a little trip through the woods. I was in front and he came along behind with a whip. We must have been quite a spectacle.
Too bad no one was there with a camera."
She enjoyed his discomfort, and fleetingly, she wondered why. She did not hate Jim. In fact, she had a genuine affection for him. Then why did she enjoy hurting him?
"He made me climb over some rocks and that must have been a real spectacle! Naked, darling, I'm quite a .mountain goat."
"Laurel!"
It was all he could say. She smiled calmly and went on. "Then he raped me. Afterward, we had a little talk."
"You're disgusting."
"I should have beer indignantly silent? Perhaps you're right, but I didn't see how that would bring my virtue back. Virtue is the right word, isn't it? Besides, I was curious. He was such a strange man. I don't think he really wanted to rape me. I know he didn't enjoy that a bit until we finally..."
"Must you slaver over every detail?"
"He was a better lover than you are, darling. At least so far as I'm concerned. Now, Miss Vale might have a different idea, but that's my opinion."
"Laurel! Stop that!"
"As I said, he was a strange man. I couldn't get rid of the feeling that I'd seen him somewhere before." She paused. "Why, darling. You've turned pale. I didn't realize my great shame would shock you so much."
"You say you think you've seen him before."
"That was how I felt, yes."
"But you couldn't remember where?"
"No."
"We'll call the police." he said. But he spoke in a flat, emotionless voice and Laurel smiled.
"You don't really mean that."
"I don't understand you."
"You don't want the police called in any more than Frank wanted Caron's name spread all over the papers."
"You know about Caron, then?"
"Yes. And obviously Frank told you."
"He was upset. We're good friends. Is that so strange?"
"No, of course not But there are some aspects of this that are strange. Can it be coincidence that a vagrant rapist wandering the area looking for victim just happens to attack the wives of two good friends?"
"The whole thing is so grotesque. How can you be sure he was the same man?"
"I'm sure. In fact, he admitted so."
"You two must have had quite a cozy little chat."
"We brought out a few points. One of them was that I tell you. He wanted you to know especially about his whipping me across the rocks like a naked animal."
"I'll find him," Jim murmured as though speaking to himself. "I'll find him and kill him."
"Find whom, Jim?"
"Who do you think I'm talking about?"
"All right, where will you start? Or do you have a lead you're not telling me about?"
"Laurel! Just what are you trying to say?"
"I'm not sure myself. I just know that there's something going on here and I think I've got a right to a clue.
I paid my way into the club out there in the woods this afternoon."
"We're not getting anywhere with this kind of talk," Jim said. "I'm going to the office. We'll discuss this further when I get home."
After he left the house, Jim went to a telephone booth and called Linda Vale.
"Hon, I can't see you tonight. Something's happened."
"Another girl, I'll bet. Have you got another girl, Jim?"
"That's nonsense. Stop being childish. There's something I have to do for a friend of mine."
"A lady friend?"
"No. A man I've known for years. Linda, why do you always nag?"
"I'm sorry, honey, but I can't help it. I know I haven't got any rights. But I'm so jealous of you. I'm even jealous when you're home with your wife."
"I'll see you at the office tomorrow," he said and hung up abruptly.
Outside, he wrestled with his frustration. Linda was a bother in many ways. If she wasn't so damned good in bed he'd have fired her long ago. He wasn't in the least in love with her, but still, he was unhappy at the thought of another man having her. So the affair went on
But then he forgot Linda There were more pressing things on his mind. Things having to do with cold fear. Had Lee Windsor, wherever he was, hired a man to go around violating the wives of five men he hated? If he had been Lee himself, both Caron and Laurel would certainly have recognized him.
A wild thought struck Jim. Had they recognized him? Was there some sort of crazy conspiracy on the other side of this puzzle?
He discarded the thought quickly. Such a thing might have been conceivable if only Laurel were involved. He conceded that his wife had the ability to go along in such an intrigue if it suited her purpose.
But not Caron. Caron was still pretty much of a child. She could never have handled her role in such a drama.
This idea disposed of. Jim wondered where he would go from there Whom could he contact? Whom could he seek out for advice? There was nothing he and Frank could do together They'd exhausted mutual possibilities.
As a gesture he had no faith in, Jim went and found another telephone and looked for the name. Lee Windsor. He didn't find it, but he wasn't greatly disappointed. He hadn't expected to.
Then, without pondering the idea to any great length, he looked up another number and dialed it:
"Hello? Tom? Tom Weathers? This is Jim Payne."
Tom Weathers had one of the heartiest voices in town. "Jim! How are you! Long time no hear."
"Uh-huh. Lucky the wives get together once in while or we'd lose contact "
"Oh no. We've been friends too long for that, Jim."
"Tom, something's happened. I think we ought to have a little talk."
"Oh?"
There was just enough change in the cordial voice to reflect quick wariness; as though Weathers expected to be touched foi a loan.
"This goes back a little way."
"Can you give me a hint?"
Jim debated finesse, tact, diplomacy. But they didn't suit his mood. He said "It might be a good idea if we had a little talk about that woods incident."
Weather's voice turned cold and distant. "What woods incident?"
"When we were in high school The five of us."
"You must be dreaming. I don't know what you're talking about."
Jim's nerves were raw enough without this., "Come off it, Tom. We all remember."
"Look here, Payne I don't know what kind of gag you're pulling, but it isn't funny. If you've been drinking, why don't you sober up and go home?"
"Now listen here, Tom "
"You listen to me. I don't know anything about any woods incident when we were in high school. You've picked the wrong sucker for your gag. You'd better just drop the whole thing."
The receiver was slammed down. Jim Payne winced.
Shaking with anger, he left the booth and strode down the street.
But he couldn't leave this alone. He had to talk to someone. So a little while later, he dialed Mike Bevins number.
He was a little less impetuous this time.
"Mike? Jim Payne here. How are things with you, old man?"
"Jim? Oh, fine, fine.'
But Jim could tell instantly that they weren't fine. Mike Bevins, for a salesman, wasn't very good at hiding his moods. He'd probably gotten home from a trip and found the place empty, Jim thought. Grace was probably out hanging one on.
This was no concern of Jim's, though.
"Look, Mike. I thought we might have lunch tomorrow if you aren't busy "
"Why, sure. Jim."
"There's a little thing you might be interested in hearing about. I thought I'd pass it on to you."
"Good. Mighty nice of you. Where'll we meet?"
"How about Ernie's at twelve-thirty?"
"That'll be fine. I'm leaving on another trip tomorrow, but I don't pull out until seven o'clock."
"Then I'll see you.'
Jim went out and started walking again. He thought of a lot of things; his position in the community; the mark he'd made in the business world. They were a lot to lose.
Then, with a feeling akin to physical sickness, he thought of something else. A night long ago in a forest with the moon looking down on a savage scene. He thought of a naked, terrorized girl in the center of a group of liquor-crazed juveniles. He saw himself in that group, but as another person. Not Jim Payne. The girl was momentarily on her hands and knees, cringing. And this juvenile hilariously seizing a willow wand and flicking it against the girl. She jumped in pain.
Yahoo! We're on a race track! Make her gallop!
Payne dropped down on a bench near the park entrance and pressed his hands hard against his face. God! Why had that terrible memory been brought back?
He didn't deserve that!
He'd suffered enough.
And someone else was suffering that night. After he slammed down the phone in Payne's ear, Tom Weathers wrestled with his anger at the man. Of all the damned nerve. Calling up cold and throwing that old nightmare at him. That was over anc. done with long ago. If Jim had a guilt trauma, let him have it by himself. He wasn't going to drag Weathers into it with him.
But the recollection wasn't easily driven from his mind. Tom made a valiant effort, but there was an unguarded moment and he was back in the dark forest again.
His mind concerned itself mainly with the aftermath. The reckoning they'd had between themselves.
After Carl and Lee Windsor, hunting for their sister", had found them and they'd beaten them into submission, they'd finished with the girl.
God! How awful! What demon had possessed them? Abusing the girl while the two brothers looked on, helpless.
But then, after the reaction set in, after the fear came, they'd let them go. They'd listened in silence as the sports car rolled away with Carl at the wheel. Then the real fear had come. The panic: We let them got away. We should have killed them.
He recalled those desperate words. But who had spoken them?
They'll talk. They'll go to the cops. We've got to catch them. It's ton late. That car's too fast. We've got to do something.
We'll deny everything. That's all we have to do. Sure, we haven't even seen each other. And we didn't hurt the broad. We only had a little fun.
All the dark, dark words there in the dark forest on the darkest night of Weather's life.
We weren't even together tonight. Remember that, you guys.
Sure, we haven't even seen each other.
Get rid of those whiskey bottles. Throw them way out in the bushes.
Brush those footprints away. We weren't even in this place.
The feverish preparation of an alibi they would never need. The three Windsors cracked up that night. And that was the end of it.
They'd talked and made their pact later and it wasn't rust hiding something. Keeping quiet made sense. There would have been no point in confessing publicly because they were not bad kids; not a single one of the five. They'd all gone out into the world and made something of themselves. They'd each contributed to society. The world was a better place for their efforts. Society would have been the loser if they'd allowed that one night to ruin their lives.
Sr. Payne was definitely out of line in bringing that old thing up.
He'd get over it, though. It had just been a momentary lapse on Jim's part.
Maybe, later on when it was safe, Tom would contact him and have a little talk with him.
If it became necessary.
But Tom hoped it wouldn't.
CHAPTER FIVE
Shortly after leaving Laurel Payne naked in the woods, Lee Windsor kept an appointment with his psychiatrist. He showed no agitation and was obviously in complete control of himself.
He lay silent on the couch for perhaps five minutes before he spoke. Then he said, "I was talking to a woman this afternoon and I said something that surprised me."
"What did you say?'
"That isn't important! But it brings me to this question. Do you believe that a man can avoid a greater crime by committing a lesser one?"
"That's not a question. It's the opening for a discussion. There are too many facets involved."
"All right, do you think that a man with kleptomania could avoid stealing a diamond in a jewelry store by stealing a cheap bracelet?"
"Certainly The urge overtakes the man. He sees the diamond. He realizes its value and is frightened.
But he still has the urge so he snatches a bracelet and leaves the scene of temptation."
"That doesn't quite satisfy me."
"It's your answer as I see it."
"But let's take a situation of broader aspects. Suppose one man bears a great hatred for another. A wrong had been done to the first man by the second and the first man wishes his enemy's death. But he does not wish to kill so he beats him badly. Would that quiet the murder wish?"
"Again we come to the individual involved. With some men, it might. But by the same token, a man who in essence reduces a death sentence to a beating may also, after further thought, cancel the whole charge and give his enemv an unconditional pardon."
Lee Windsor stirred restlessly on the couch.
"That still doesn't answer me. You said some men might do that. What might others do?"
"Another man might kill his enemy while inflicting the lesser punishment."
Again, he stirred. "I guess there isn't any answer," he grumbled.
After a few moments of silence, the psychiatrist said, "There's a question T'd like to ask."
"Go ahead."
"We've made some progress during these sessions that you won't admit to me, haven't we."
"What do you mean?"
"We found a block that centered around a certain night in your life when you were in high school. An automobile crash was involved. But there was something else that night also, wasn't there?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do. I think you're holding out on me."
"Let's say, for the sake of argument, that there was something else I remembered. Let's say it came back to me. Isn't that the objective of these sessions? What I mean is, do I necessarily have to tell you?"
"No, not necessarily. Not if it doesn't set up a new problem you have trouble with."
"What would you say if I told you I raped a woman this afternoon? Would you believe me?"
"I might, and I might not. Are you telling me that you raped a woman?"
"No, but I'm not saying that I didn't."
"I'm more interested in that night when you were in high school. What are you doing about the thing you remembered?"
"What makes you think I'm doing anything."
"I have no way of knowing one way or another."
"Yes, I'm doing something about it."
"I gather you're exacting a retribution of some sort."
"You might call it that. I prefer to say that I'm protecting myself from doini something that will damage me."
"Then when you referred to murder it wasn't on a completely objective basis?"
"Are we ever completely objective."
"Now you're evading."
"Suppose you read in the paper tomorrow morning that I'd killed five people? What would you do?"
"I'd be very much surprised."
"Would you go to the police?"
"No, but I imagine they'd come to me.'
"What would you do when they came to you? Answer all their questions?"
"That all depends on what the questions were. The only place a psychiatrist is even faced with such decisions is on a witness stand in a court of law."
"Well, I'll relieve your anxiety to this extent: I didn't kill five people. I haven't even killed one person."
"I'm glad to hear that."
"What would you do if I convinced you that I had?"
"Only what I'm doing now; tell you that the time's up. I'll see you as usual on Friday?"
"Oh, I presume you will. But if one of these days I don't show up and you never see me again, don't be too surprised."
"I won't. A psychiatrist learns never to be surprised by anything."
Later that night, at approximately ten o'clock, Grace Bevins sat on a stool at the bar of the Sundown Club. It was a nice bar in a better section of the city, filled with attractive people and Grace was by far not the least of these. She had much to justly merit the appreciative regard of the men around her.. Her coloring was on the dark side-raven-black hair, an olive skin, a Latin cast to her features. These assets, combined with a stunning five-foot-four figure put her in a class where she was envied by most women who made a business of envying other women.
Also, there was goon reason for the hope that arose in the unattached men in the bar. Grace did not discourage male attention. She did not exactly throw herself at male heads, but wolves with even mediocre experience knew the possibility of striking pay dirt was there.
The evening had not started well for Grace. She'd had a date with one of her more or less permanent male friends; but it bad been broken. This annoyed Grace. She had little enough time, with Mike not on the road as much any more.
So, not wanting to waste any of her time, she had come to see what the Sundown Club might yield.
There were quite a few eager, attractive men, but the one with the odd face interested her most. His face seemed strained somehow, but it was attractive. And the man himself was more aggressive than the others. He wasn't devious
"May I buy you a drink?"
Grace went into the usual routine. "Well-I was waiting for a friend "
"That's all right. If he comes. I'll retire gracefully. You can say I'm the delivery boy who brings your groceries."
Grace laughed. She was drunk enough to see real humor in the remark. This one might prove to be among other hoped-for things a lot of fun.
"My name is Thayer," he said. "Vincent Thayer."
"Do they call you Vinny?"
"Some people do. You may."
"Thank you. I'm Grace Steele "
Grace never used her right name in bars and always stayed away from the Mrs. That dampened too much ardor.
"I'm happy to know you."
They touched old fashioneds and drank.
"This is a nice club. T come here once a while for a quick one. Of course, I never come alone except to meet someone."
"And now you've met me."
"So I have." Grace stifled a hiccough. This was her sixth old fashioned, the boys being a little slow tonight, and her safe limit was four. "I think you're very nice," her sixth old-fashioned said.
"I think you're nice too."
Her intoxicated coyness did not spoil her beauty but it didn't help her any. either. "You do? Tell me."
"This is hardly the place. A woman should be told those things under the moon."
"There's a moon tonight "
"What a coincidence," he murmured, and Grace laughed. He was very clever, and a very nice man. "Have you got a car?" she asked "I'm afraid not. I walked over from my hotel."
"I've got a car."
"That's wonderful."
"Do you drive."
"Quite well."
"I think the man should always drive, don't you?" He nodded. "Makes things look better. Shall we take a drive?" , "I could use a little an
Grace lay back on the seat and closed her eyes.
She giggled. "Everything's going around. The stars, the moon, the road."
"That will pass."
"Where are we going?"
"I know a quiet little place you might like."
Grace giggled again. "Drive on, MacDuff."
"We'll be there shortly."
Grace went to sleep A rare occurrence but then she rarely drank six. old-fashioneds.
One tiny corner of her brain continued to function, though. She felt the car stop; at least she felt something stop and hazily decided it was the car. Then she thought she was being moved but she couldn't be sure.
Her next conscious sensation was that of a hand against her leg under her skirt. The small portion of her brain that was functioning considered this. That wasn't anything new. At this stage of the game hands usually went under her skirt. But then, she was usually around to supervise the speed of the operation. Now she seemed to be far away, observing everything.
Somebody was ungartering her hose. Now why should a man do that? she wondered Hose never got in the way. She was out of the car now, definitely, but neither standing nor lying down. The ground under her was soft and she was lying slanted against something. A tree?
She returned her attention to what the hands were doing to her clothing. The stockings were gone now and there wasn't as much pressure around her hips as there had been. That meant her garter, belt was gone. And fresh air billowing up underneath meant that her panties had now been removed.
She giggled. This was very funny But then she was cold.
With much determination, she began forcing more of her brain into action. After all, she had a right to know what was going on. And she retrieved enough consciousness to find out. At least she found out what had been going on.
She was stark naked in a grassy kind of place with trees all around.
Alarmed now, she began struggling to her feet. Dimly, she saw the man what was his name? standing nearby. But he merely stood there. He did not help her.
"W-wha's the big idea?" she mumbled.
"You must dance."
The world spun around her, Was she hearing right? He said she had to dance. That was silly. They weren't in a dance hall. She clung to the tree.
"Wha' you doin' here?"
"You must dance."
"You're crazy."
Her whole being seemed to explode in shock and it took her mind a minute to catch up. He'd thrown water on her! He'd hit her full in the face with a slug of icy water he'd gotten from the creek she could hear gurgling nearby.
"Ghaa!"
Her exclamation was wordless and full of terror, but she was comparatively sober instantly. "What're you doing to me?"
"I was sobering you up," the vice said gravely. "First, you must dance."
"You're crazy!" she sobbed. "I want out of here. I want to go home!"
"First, you must dance. Then...."
She tried to run but she made a sorry job of that. Three steps, and she went flat on the-ground. "Lemme go!" she sobbed. "Lemmi go!"
That grave, concerned voice again. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but this has been done before."
And without further warning. Grace cold sober now was scrambling and craw fishing desperately over the grass trying to come to her feet, trying to escape the painful contact with the hand that was helping her in a way unimaginable outside the most vicious, decadent pornographic film.
"Ghaa!" Her wordless exclamation again, her plea against the heartless brutality, but that brought no mercy. She was obscenely frogged to her feet, where she reeled and moved in a grotesque, hopping circle until the vile punishment ended.
"Now you must dance."
"I wanna go home."
"Dance."
"To hell with "
Something stung her, cutting around her ankles like a flexible knife. She shrieked. "Dance."
"All right-all right."
Grace began hopping up and down there in the moonlight. She was crying and her dance was to the rhythm of her sobbing.
"Leave me alone. Please leave me alone."
The grotesque hopping that the madman accepted as a dance went on forever, it seemed to Grace. Then he stepped back, satisfied. Grace dropped to her knees and crouched there, the nightmare into which she'd stumbled swirling around her.
"You're fortunate," the grave voice informed her. "Everything ends here With you, the final act isn't necessary...."
Mike Bevins had been pacing the floor for hours. His anger had become monumental. End it! That was the only answer. When you had a tramp for a wife it was the only thing to do.
He'd hoped and hoped that there would be a change for the better in Grace. But if everything, she had grown worse. Tonight was the last straw. He'd give her what he had, buy her off. divorce her, and head out for other places. Eventually, he hoped, he would look back on this marriage as a bad dream.
He paced some more and again debated combing the bars. But that would do no good. She wasn't in a bar by now. Some guy had long since picked her up and had her in bed. He could only wait, telling himself he really wasn't worried; that she'd always landed on her feet and always would. That was how life was for tramps.
The doorbell rang. Mike frowned. What in hell? She had a key. Her bit was to open the door softly and try to slip into bed before he woke up. Then she'd swear she'd been there all the time.
"Mike, please let me in "
The call came faintly and a chill went through him i as he rushed over and threw the door open He stood transfixed
It was Grace, but a Grace he had never seen before. Her stockings, vingartered, were bunched around her ankles. Her hair was a rat's nest of disarray. Her dress was unbuttoned down the front with only naked skin under it. She carried her panties and bra in her hand.
"Mike, let me in I was raped..."
"Not raped exactly; I guess oh, I don't even know what I'm saying!"
It was an hour later now. Mike had gotten Grace's clothes off and eased her into a hot tub. He accepted her protestation that she did not need a doctor, adopting a wait-and-see attitude He'd bathed her tenderly, pausing to hold her during, the spasms of hysteria that lessened as the comfort and warmth of home seeped back into her bones.
Then he'd taken her from the tub, toweled her gently, and he now had her in bed.
"I guess we can wait for the doctor until morning at least. You seem to need sleep more than anything else. I'll give you a tranquilizer-"
She clung to his hand. "Not yet. I want to tell you, darling. I must tell you what happened."
He watched her and held her as a sob escaped. He had never before seen her this way. Grace uncertain and afraid? It seemed incredible. Grace, who went anywhere at any time with men, friends and strangers alike. Grace who had been the luckiest of women but who had now become the victim of the law of averages.
He stroked her hair. "All right," Mike said, "Tell me if you want to."
She looked beseechingly up into his eyes.
"First, Mike, I want to talk about something else."
"What?"
"Us."
"Don't you think rest is more important right now?"
"No no. I must" talk."
"All right."
"Mike, I've been a very bad wife." He held her close. "Take it easy, honey."
"A bad wife to a good husband."
"We've made out."
"That's because of you because you're so good. But I've been bad. I went out with men while you were working, Mike. I cheated on you."
"Grace, please."
"I'm sorry, but I've got to say this. It's very important. This could be the end for us, or a new beginning. That all depends on what you want."
"You know what I want, honey."
"But after my telling you? There-there have been quite a few men. Mike."
"I've known about them."
"Why didn't you say something do something beat me?"
"There wasn't much to say, was there?"
"I guess not. But Mike, that's over. I knew that tonight, out there with that madman. That was over. I always went around looking for something. You could call it glamour, I guess, plush night clubs, smooth people. They were so important to me all that glitter. I guess I never grew up."
He held her and 'et her talk.
"But tonight I saw all of that for what it was: cheap, shabby, sickening. And I saw myself for what I'd been. A stupid little tramp "
"Grace!"
"It's true, darling. A cheap little tramp, letting men take advantage of me while they were laughing behind my back."
She buried her face against him, and after he'd held her for awhile, she looked up at him and he wiped away her tears with the edge of the clean sheet he'd put on the bed.
"Do you want me back, Mike? I want to come back, oh, so badly. Dc you want me back?"
"You've never been away, baby."
He expected a fresh burst of tears, but they didn't come. The emotionalism seemed over. She looked at him gravely, solemnly
"Thank you, darling "
"And now you'd better, go to sleep."
"I want to tell you the other, first. This man. I met him in the Sundown Club. I drank too much and he took me for a ride in my car. He drove. He took me out in the woods and when I came to, he'd undressed me. I I was naked, Mike."
He said nothing.
"Then he got some water from the creek and threw it on me to wake me up. After that, he made me dance."
Mike had been staring at the wall. He lowered his eyes slowly and looked at Grace. "What did you say?"
"He made me dance there in the woods naked. He got a stick and whipped my legs and made me dance.
Mike shifted his eyes and stared at the blanket on the bed. "Then what?"
"Nothing. Except that he was so strange. He said something about that being as far as it had to go with me.
"He said that was as far as it had to go with you?" Mike spoke dully, as though he viewed it all with disinterest, or as though he were under mild shock.
"Yes. He didn't even touch me except to undress me. After he made me dance he stood and watched while I put my own clothes on."
"Then he drove you home?"
"Yes. He left the car out in front and walked off down the street." Again, Grace clung to him. "Oh, Mike! He was so strange' So weird. As though he hadn't wanted to do that at all. He was some kind of a madman."
"What did he look like?"
"That was odd, too. There was something about his face. Kind of tight, if you know what I mean. He was attractive enough, but his face seemed to be stiff. When he smiled you got the idea hf had to do it consciously with an effort."
Mike stared at her in silence for a moment, and then he shook himself.
"All right, honey. Nov; you've told me. Are you ready to go to sleep?"
"Mike, you won't go to the police, will you."
"You don't want me to?"
"I just want to forget everything. I'd die if I had to get up in court and tell about that in front of people."
"We'll talk about that tomorrow. I'll get you a capsule now..."
He gave her a tranquilizer and stayed with her until she dropped off. Then he went into the living room, leaving the bedroom door open a crack, and began to pace the floor.
For awhile, he stubbornly refused to admit the thoughts that hammered at his mind He chose instead to think about Grace
She'd had a terrible shock. It had brought on a highly emotional confession and a plea for forgiveness. She was, of course, completely sincere.
But would it take? Would the vaccination of terror kill the restless virus within her? Had it destroyed her great need for men?"
He could only watch and wait and hope, knowing how deep these needs were planted Watch and wait and hope.
Then he could stave off the other thoughts no longer. The old ghosts.
He actually had forgotten that terrible night in the woods back in Ludlow. He'd stubbornly resisted the memory for so long that it hadn't plagued him for years.
But now it was hack, as clear and sharp as the night it happened.
His own part in the madness. He hadn't touched the girl himself, thank Gog. But he'd been imbued with the same insanity that had struck his four companions. He clenched his fist and forced himself to relive the memory of his terrible two minutes.
He hadn't wanted to be left out. That was how the insanity affected him. Even in the face of his fear and dread of the moment, he had wanted to be a part of it. So he'd pulled a whip from a bush and cut Barbara's legs:
Come on, baby! Dance for us. Do a hootchy-kootchy Give us a dance...
He remembered the laughter.
Pacing the floor, he wondered. Was this a coincidence? Possibly. But that was hard to believe. If so. this was double-barreled coincidence. Jim Payne calling him for a get-together. He and Jim never got together. They were opposite types, and what had held them close in high school days no longer existed. They were in the new group now because of their wives and for no other reason.
He wondered what he wanted.
He would find out tomorrow.
In the meantime, there was nothing to do but wait.
CHAPTER SIX
The two Windsor uncles were now dead. Barbara was in a mental home. Carl, of course, was also dead. That left Lee completely alone in the world.
He had a cooperative luxury apartment in one of the finest sections of the city; but for his vengeance operation, he'd rented a small apartment far on the wrong side of the tracks and was known to his neighbors only by a name on his mail box: Allen Brown.
After dropping Grace off that night, he parked her car and returned to his temporary home on foot. He entered and locked the door inside and snapped on the light.
"Not a very nice place you have here. I'm sure you can afford better."
He did not have to look around to find her. It was only one room and she was seated on the only chair looking cool and blonde and beautiful.
She smiled with amusement. "Don't look so startled. I'm sure you've seen a woman before."
"Mrs. Payne."
"And don't be so formal. Just call me Nude Nellie, the girl with the sore feet."
"How did you get in here?"
"You disappoint me. I had a feeling you were too original to ask the obvious questions. I certainly must have found a way because here I am."
"How did you get in?"
"That door of yours has a slanting lug. I pushed a small celluloid calendar into the crack. No trouble at all."
"I mean how did you discover me?"
"Through your own carelessness. You had the address and name on a memo in your wallet. I looked at it while you were asleep in the woods."
He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her as though she were a cat and he was waiting for her to jump one way or the other.
"At first I thought this must have been the address of a friend because I figured you for something far better. But when I came hunting, I saw you leave the building. It was all very simple." She paused to look around the small, shabby room. "Also I thought it must be a friend's address because of the penciled notation in your wallet. People don't usually have to write their own names and addresses in that fashion. They remember them." He remained silent. The old taunt was in her smile as she waited for him to speak and filled the time by rambling on, herself. "Of course, I was a little suspicious because there was no other identification. No licenses, no credit cards. Nothing. A remarkable wallet. Almost as remarkable as its owner."
He finally found a question of his own. "What made you figure me for something better?"
"Instinct, I guess. You just didn't look like cheap apartment in crumville."
"And now that you're here?"
"We're going to have a little talk."
He appeared to be wondering which logical emotion he should give rein to. There had been flashes of surprise, anger, and even fear. Now he sat and stared, with curiosity in seeming domination.
"Why didn't you bring the police?"
She looked around again, smiling in lazy satisfaction. "There's hardly room for the two of us. A couple of burley policemen would bend the walls."
"You're not afraid of me?"
"If I wasn't afraid in the woods why should I be afraid where one scream will bring people to the door."
"That's logical, I suppose."
"And now, as I said, a few questions, Who are you?"
"The name on the memo was Allen Brown, I believe."
"But that's not what I asked." When he didn't answer, she began studying his face closely. "It bugs me that I don't know, that I can't place you because I feel I should be able to. I'll swear I've seen you before somewhere."
"In the woods, you told me you wouldn't stand still and let me strip you. The same goes for me, after a fashion. I won't pour out information just because you ask for it."
"I think it's a little different. I can call in help, so you're pretty much at my mercy. You'll have to answer."
"You were at my mercy, too."
"But I knew you wouldn't injure me."
"It was only a guess on your part, so I'll make a guess, too. I don't think you're going to complain to the police."
"It looks as though we're both too smart for our own good, doesn't it?"
He took a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and offered her one. She accepted and they were silent, measuring each other during the lighting rites. Then he sat back, waiting.
"Something about your face," she murmured.
"I hope it isn't too offensive."
Then her reaction was explosive. Her eyes widened. She jerked forward. In a quick motion, she pointed her cigarette at him.
"Carl Windsor! No! Carl was killed. You're his brother. Lee'Windsor. You survived that accident."
"Yes, I'm Lee Windsor."
"But-"
"My face was horribly mutilated."
"No one around Ludlow actually got the true story. They knew Carl was killed but otherwise no information was given out. I heard that you died later."
"I was in the hospital for a long time. But the big problem was my face. Fortunately, there was a great deal of money available, or I would be a hideous beggar with a cup in my hand on some corner."
Laurel's excitement at the revelation wiped away she usually wore. Her eyes sparkled with interest.
"Plastic surgery?"
"What else?"
"I don't know how bad your face was, but it looks like a remarkable job."
"It was a masterpiece of reconstruction."
You and Carl were so alike I could hardly tell the difference."
"He was lucky. He was killed in the accident."
She appeared about to inquire into his way of putting it. Instead she asked, "Barbara "
"Barbara is in a mental home. Her condition is incurable. She will die there."
"I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
"There's a lot more I want to know."
"I have nothing to tell you."
"It can wait, though. A little while. There's something else"
He waited, watching the expression on her face. It was changing. The excitement remained in her eyes but it deepened and broadened somehow. A tiny smile played on her lips; a smile of satisfaction.
Excitement and satisfaction. They added up to something. He wondered what.
Laurel said, "You didn't think I was going to let you get away with that afternoon, did you?"
"But you've declined to call the police."
"I will call them, though if I have to."
"I hope it won't be necessary."
"All right. Then get up out of that chair."
Mystified, he obeyed.
"Stand there in the light in front of me."
He moved the necessary three steps. "Now undress.
He paused before replying. "I consider. that a ridiculous request."
"And I consider this a great opportunity. Undress. Drop your clothes on the floor a garment at a time."
"I think I prefer the police."
"There's an old saying. You can dish it out but you can't take it. That seems to apply to you. You can force me to strip, but "
"I had a reason,. "
"I have a reason, too. Take off your clothes."
For a long moment they fenced with their eyes. Then he snubbed out his cigarette and raised his hands and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Her smile deepened into one of triumph.
He dropped his shirt and unzipped his pants and stepped out of them. Balancing himself against the foot of the bed, he removed his shoes and socks.
"Is that satisfactory?"
"You know better."
Slowly, he pulled down his shorts, stepped out of them, and stood naked before her.
There was silence while she went over him, inch by inch. Her satisfaction was obvious. She enjoyed her victory.
"You're quite a man," she said, her eyes on his chest.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me," she mocked. "I had nothing to do with that"
"What's the next step?"
She got up from her chair. "Haven't you guessed?"
He watched as she began undressing. Garment by garment, she stripped, the smile still in place on her lips. When she was down to her panties, she stopped, passing her hands voluptuously over her breasts.' She looked at him.
She laughed.
"Do you want to love me."
"No."
"You're a liar."
"Ignore any evidence you see to the contrary."
"That's pretty difficult to ignore."
Slowly, exaggerating every move, she stripped off her panties and dropped them to the floor.
Then she stepped forward until their bodies were just touching.
"You're sure you don't want to love me?"
"No."
She placed her hands on his shoulders and brought them down lightly over his chest. Her hands then went farther but she held her eyes on his.
"Now?" .
"No."
There was a full minute of silence.
"Not even now?"
"No."
She sensed rebellion in him and whispered. "Be careful. I can still scream and end all your fine plans whatever they are."
Taking his head in her hands, she forced him to her breast, She pressed his face deep, toward the soft, lush yielding flesh.
"Nice?" she murmured.
He didn't answer. She saw his fist double.
But this did not deter her. Using two fingers as levers, she worked at his lips and place the tip of her left breast at his mouth. She met clenched teeth.
"Yes," she breathed, "you're quite a man in more ways than one."
Putting her hands against his chest, she forced him around the bed and down on it. He lay there looking at her. She climbed on the bed beside him, took his head in her arms, and placed her mouth to his.
Her lips began working against his stiff, resisting mouth. She forced her tongue to his lips and against his teeth, but they would not open.
"I've got all night," she whispered.
He did not answer and she opened her mouth and ran her kiss over his jaw and neck. She used that as a weapon to worry sensitive points on his chest.
"Your heart betrays you," she said. "It's beating like a trip-hammer."
He fought her for another minute. Then he snapped.
"Damn you!"
He seized her and hurled her over on the bed.
"Oh, lover," she cried. "Do you think I could ever forget that glade in the woods?"
He had rocketed to the other end of the pendulum's arc. From a block of ice, he turned into a raging animal.
Laurel, her face alight with pure joy, fended him off. "No, lover-wait, wait! Just lightly at first-ever so lightly."
Using her hands as braces, she showed him what she meant. She moved his body until they touched lightly against each other. Then she began to work the slow, sensuous circles.
"The anticipation," she whispered. "I love this drives me crazy"
"You witch!" he snarled. "Do you think I'm made of stone?"
She laughed. Then he was savagely pulling at her body and bending her. He used her ankles as levers to do this, and he looked into her upturned face as he forced her to a position that would have taxed a contortionist. The pain was reflected in her eyes and he took vicious satisfaction from that.
"No! You'll break me in two."
But then he drove with a savageness that bulged her eyes and opened her mouth and brought a gargled wordless cry.
Her arms went around him. Her nails went deep to his back. She found his mouth, and as his impassioned though trying to kill him.
"Oh, hurt me, lover! Destroy me!"
Frantically, they fought each other on the battlefield of love. As they approached their mutual victory, her eyes rolled.
"How can you be so good, lover? No oh, now I can't stand any more!"
Then: "Stop mc lover! I'm going to scream!"
He snatched a pillow, and put it over her face, and as her body stiffened, he heard the faint screams through the thick pad of feathers.
They lay exhausted in each other's arms.
"How can you be so good?" she asked.
"I never knew what a man was until I met you," she said. "How do you get so good? How are you able to drive me crazy?"
He kissed her breast and she stroked his head. But still, he was silent.
"With other men, they were only motions. I was there, but I was never a part. But with you, I am you."
"I don't know," he said. "I don't know why that is."
She clung to him. "You weren't this way with Caron Lovell were you?"
"She was only something I had to do."
"I don't understand that."
"No, you wouldn't understand."
"But I want to. I want to understand and know everything about you."
"That won't be possible."
"Don't say that."
"We mustn't see each other again. You mustn't ask me any questions."
"But I will. I've got to know. I'll follow you around until I find out."
"If I told you, would you go away?"
"No. I'll probably follow you around anyway, like a slave like the woman slave I've turned out to be."
"This is dangerous."
"I don't care."
"You've got to leave now."
"Not until you promise not to hide from me. I've got to see you again."
"That wouldn't be wise."
"I don't care if I'm wise, or not. I won't betray you, darling. Whatever your secret is, I won't try to stop you or betray you."
As he remained silent, she rolled over to him and looked into his eyes. Tell me, be honest was any other women ever as good for you?"
"No."
"Could you bear not seeing me again?"
"That would be terribly difficult."
"Tell me you won't run and hide."
He took a deep breath. He let the air out of his lungs and she settled close to him again. It was almost as though this were a symbolic gesture; acknowledgment that they would not separate; that she would always be there.
"We'll see each other again."
"I'll come tomorrow night."
"All right."
"You'll be here?"
"I'll be waiting for you."
"And you'll tell me everything?"
"I'll tell you everything."
Then she got up and began to dress.
He lay where he was, watching her. When she was ready to go, he did not rise, staying as he was. The door closed behind her. The lock clicked.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The Crandell Memorial Hospital was small, exclusive, and with the undeniable smell of money about it. The girl at the desk in the reception room was blonde, efficient, and courteous.
"The Director? Dr. Spaulding? Yes, I believe he's in. Do you have an appointment?"
"No. I took a chance on being able to see him."
"Whom shall I say is calling?"
"Frank Lovell."
"What is the nature of your business, Mr. Lovell?"
"I want to inquire about a patient."
Deciding that his mission was worthy, she spoke into an intercom. "A Mr. Frank Lovell he wishes to see you to inquire about one of our patients."
She looked up. "Which patient did you wish to inquire about, Mr. Lovell?"
"A girl named Barbara Windsor."
The nurse relayed the information there was a long pause, and Lovell wondered if he'd fumbled. There was hardly any other way he could have handled it, though. So he waited, hoping for the best, and then the crisply uniformed blonde snapped the intercom and nodded.
"You may go in. The fourth door on the left."
Frank found Dr. Spencer to be a fat, little red-faced man who looked out of place in the luxurious office he occupied. But he was a pleasant enough man, and after they shook hands, Dr. Spencer said, "You were inquiring about a patient?"
"Yes. Barbara Windsor."
"I see. You are a relative, perhaps?"
"No. But I was well acquainted with the family years ago in Ludlow, a small town near the city. Have you heard of it?"
"Yes, but that was some time ago."
Frank wondered how soon he'd be able to get to the questions he really wanted to ask. "When I was very young man, in fact. I went to high school with the Windsor boys, Lee and Carl, and with their sister, Barbara. Then there was that terrible accident, and the family left Ludlow immediately afterward. I lost track of them."
"I see. And now you wish to inquire as to Barbara's condition."
"Yes."
Dr. Spencer sat back in his chair, his manner indicating that perhaps inquiring about a patient and being given an answer to the inquiry were two different things.
"How did you find out that Barbara is with us, Mr. Lovell?"
"That came about almost inadvertently. I had occasion to visit City Hall the other day the department of records and I came. across the name. I recognized it instantly, of course, and began to wonder about the Windsor children. Carl was killed in the accident, we learned that much, and I suppose Lee is living in the city, although he isn't listed in the phone book."
Dr. Spencer did not fall into the trap-if, indeed he recognized it as such. He ignored all reference to Lee Windsor.
"It was thoughtful of you to take the time to come here to inquire after Barbara."
"It seemed the least I could do."
Dr. Spencer regarded Frank as though he contemplated recommending him for the Citizen of the Month medal.
"Barbara is well," he said. "Physically, that is. And I believe she is happy. It was a sad case. There was some brain tissue destruction and she will always be dependent. She is a permanent patient."
"That's tragic."
"You may see her if you wish, but there would be little point in it. She would not recognize you."
"Tragic," Frank repeated. "Ah, about Lee. I'd like to get in touch with him. Do you have his address by any chance?"
"No. I'm afraid I can't help you there. I have no contact with Lee Windsor." He paused, then added, "All financial matters are handled through the Second National Bank."
Frank strove to hide his disappointment and did a fairly good job of it. "I see. Well, I won't take up any more of your time then. Thanks for seeing me."
"Don't mention it."
Frank left. The trip had been wasted. Driving back downtown, he wondered what to do next. Lee Windsor had to be located. But the police had to be left out of it. So what was the next step? A private detective? That was logical, but that kind of service came high. There were five of them involved, though. Split the cost and it wouldn't be so bad.
He resolved to call Jim Payne immediately and broach the subject.
"So that's how it was," Jim said. "Caron Lovell was pulled into Blueside Park and raped. Laurel was waylaid on the road near the riding stables and taken into the woods and raped. They were two acts of the same man. I think we have every reason to believe that man is Lee Windsor. I think we are also safe in assuming similar attempts will be made against your wife, Mike, and against the wives of Tom Weathers and Clete Watts."
They were having lunch at Ernie's and their voices were comfortably lost in the low hubbub of the other customers.
"Questions arise, of course," Mike said. "One Caron and Laurel would have recognized Lee. So, obviously he himself wasn't the rapist. That doesn't eliminate Lee, though, or destroy your theory."
"Another question, is, why after so many years?"
"We have no answer. Also, why this weird method of vengeance?"
"I think that may indicate a defective mind. Something might have happened to Lee. Maybe he cracked up. For all we know, he could have been recently released from a mental hospital."
"If we take that as an assumption, for want of a better one, it would answer the questions of both the timing and the method. We can stretch our assumption and say he was put away shortly after the accident. That would have given him years to brood over vengeance while being unable to do anything."
"It still leaves the main question! Who committed the actual rapes?"
"Have you talked to any other the others?" Mike asked.
"Frank and I have been in contact, of course. Last night I called Tom Weathers and he hung up on me. Then I called you. I don't know how to get in touch with Clete Watts. I've lost track of him."
"I heard he was in that big government plant north of town. I can find out."
"Do you agree that we ought to get the whole group together for a discussion?" Jim asked.
"Definitely."
"Then you take a crack at Tom Weathers. Maybe you can get through to him. I'll follow up on Clete Watts."
"All right but Jim, what do you think Lee's next move will be?"
"As I said, he'll try to get at the wives of the other three members of the group."
"I mean in respect to yourself. You and Frank. Caron and Laurel have been raped. Do you think he'll leave them alone now? Do you think a replay of thethe original assault with the wives of the group as principals is the extent of his plan of vengeance?"
"I don't know But I don't think any of us can take any chances. We've got a lot to lose, Mike If this thing ever broke into print "
"I see what you mean. I guess we have to make some gesture in our own-defense."
"We certainly have."
"But to go a step further. Suppose we do locate Lee? What are we going to do with him?"
"I don't know."
"It does present a problem."
"Maybe we'd better leave it alone until the group gets together. Five heads may be better than two."
"We'll leave it at that, then," Mike said.
"I'll call you as soon as I talk to Clete."
"Okay. I'll see what I can do with Tom Weathers."
Later, returning to his office, Mike was glad he hadn't been completely frank. He'd seen no reason to reveal Grace's involvement with the rapist. If it became necessary for the common good, he would tell them. But he shrank from revealing a thing so close to him, so personal.
He would wait and see how things went.
"It will only be overnight, darling," Mike said. "But if you're at all nervous, I won't go. It's not a life or death matter."
A subdued, quietly beautiful Grace came into his arms and held up her face for a kiss.
"It's all right. I'm no baby. You take care of your business. I'll just stay in the apartment where I belong when you're gone."
"That might be a good idea for tonight. You're bound to be a little nervous. If the doorbell rings, don't answer it."
"I wouldn't dare..."
So Mike left as planned and Grace found herself alone at seven-thirty that night. But she was not alarmed and she was not restless. She felt wonderful. Not excited. Just quietly and serenely happy.
She made herself a drink and sat by the French windows and looked out over the city. It was beautiful with all the lights sparkling. She wondered where Mike was. She visualized him driving through the darkness and said a little prayer for his safety.
The drink tasted good. She decided one more would make her just hungry enough for dinner.
Then she remembered she'd used the last of the bourbon on the one she'd just finished, so she went to the phone and dialed the liquor store.
When the answer came, she said, "Leo, this is Grace Bevins. Will you send a fifth of bourbon?"
The voice at the other end was low, with a special tone to it. "Sure I'll bring it over myself."
Grace would have cancelled the order if she'd had a chance, but Leo hung up quickly. She put the phone down and turned away.
Then she straightened her shoulders. What had she to be afraid of? AH that was over. She'd merely ordered a bottle of liquor. Nothing wrong in that.
The bell rang and she went to the door and opened it. But there was no stepping back to admit a guest, this time. Strictly a business transaction. The delivery of a bottle of whiskey.
"Thank you," she said. "Put it on the bHI."
Leo had blue eyes and curly black hair and a confident manner. The blue eyes opened in surprise. "He's gone, baby. I saw him drive away."
Grace's expression was frigid. "Are you referring to my husband?"
"Who else, sweetie?" He took a step forward.
"You can't come in." Grace lifted the bottle from his outstretched hand
"Now wait a minute," he said. "What gives? You mad at me or something?"
He pushed forward, easing the door open, forcing Grace to move back.
"I said you couldn't come in."
"All right all right. I already am in, but I'll leave if you say so. I'm not one to shove in where I'm not wanted."
"That's all over, Leo,", she said desperately. "I'm not fooling around any more. I'm Mike's wife, and that's all I'm going to be."
Leo grinned. "Well fine! I'm glad to hear that. I'm all for love and fidelity myself. But how about a good-bye kiss?"
Without waiting, he drew her into his arms. She struggled, but he held her without having to exert too much effort.
"No, Leo."
"Just one, baby." He lifted her face and found her lips.
She did not fight him. If this was the way to get rid of him. she thought, the kiss wouldn't be wasted. And this would be the last one.
His mouth moved. Grace kept her lips tight together and tried to push away. His tongue stiffened and pressed. Her own lips gave. But after all, there was nothing she could do. And this was still only a kiss. A good-bye kiss.
He stiffened, pushed her head back. The look in his eyes had changed. Taking her head in his hands, he looked into her face.
Then he forced her to her knees as he arced his body.
"No, Leo-no."
"Yes, baby." There was a choke in his voice, an urgency in the next quick movements he accomplished. Her head free for a moment, Grace tried to fall away, but again he imprisoned her with big hands. "No, Leo I I won't."
"Yes, you will!"
She sobbed. He held her head cruelly. Then a temporary truce, while he stood, choked kitten whimpers arose.
His body moved in ecstasy, and this seemed to remind her that she'd stopped fighting. Again she began to struggle.
He appeared to accept defeat. He backed away. "All right all right. To hell with you."
She looked at him, pathetic in her weakness. "No no. Wait "
He stood where he was. She came closer, and there would be no more battling over the issue involved. He hadn't defeated her and he knew that. He had merely held the line until she defeated herself.
He grinned. "That's my baby," he whispered harshly. "That's right that's right!"
His eyes glazed and he leaned weakly against the wall
Later, the fresh liquor bottle unopened, Grace lay on her bed crying bitterly. Things had changed. The dark city with its lavishly strewn lights was no longer beautiful. It was hideous. Hope had died, and all the brave new dreams were in ashes.
"Why am I so weak?" Grace moaned. "Why do I give up so much for one moment of sick happiness? Why am I the way I am?"
The silence had no answer and she continued to sob ...
Jim Payne looked up from his paper. "Where are you going?"
Laurel tightened the belt of her modish trench coat and adjusted her slouch hat in the mirror. They turned her into a shadowy, glamorous night figure; one to make people 'think of Greta Garbo and Marlene Dietrich in their seductive prime.
"I'm going for a walk. I'm restless."
"Do you think it's a good idea with that degenerate still slinking around?"
"What degenerate?" she asked
"Have you forgotten so soon?"
"Oh, him. What makes you think he's still around."
"I can't say for sure, of course, but I'd think a certain amount of caution would be in order."
Laurel smiled. "Darling, I'm afraid you're a worner.
He shrugged. "Well, it's your headache."
"He doesn't aim for the head, precious."
He raised his head and looked at her levelly. "Why are you mocking me, Laurel? What's come over you the past few days?"
"I think something's come over you, Jim. Why, just look at you. Sitting there reading your paper like a model husband. Now you've got to admit, that's a new image for you."
"I've been doing some thinking, Laurel."
"Tell, me-"
"I think it's about time we both settled down."
"And just what do you mean by settling down?"
"I think you know. We've had a pretty sophisticated marriage, and we've had bed fun. I think it was suited to our tastes and temperaments. But there's no real future in an open-end marriage, Laurel."
"What counselor have you been talking to?"
"I'm serious."
"I'm sure you are. Did you have a falling out with your little brunette secretary?"
"I haven't seen her outside office hours for quite some time. Besides, I think you overestimated the importance of that."
"I didn't over or underestimate Jim. To tell the truth, I didn't care one way or another."
"That's a cruel thing to say."
"Well, well! So now you're only sorry I didn't suffer. I could have, at first, if I'd allowed myself to But I've got a strong streak of self-preservation in me, Jim I intend to survive."
"That's what I'm talking about. The survival of our marriage, and therefore the survival of both of us."
"You're saying my survival depends on the success of this marriage?"
"No, not exactly."
"What you are saying is this: I think I'm tired of playing around now, little helpmate, so let's turn on the spigots and let mutual love flow freely. Love doesn't work that way, Jim."
"We could make this marriage work, Laurel."
"Perhaps, but the point isn't worth arguing. Not at the moment. I'm thinking of something else."
"What?"
"A divorce."
Alarm reflected in his eyes. "You're going to ask me for a divorce?"
"I'm not sure yet. I'll let you know later." She opened the door. "Laurel! Just a minute!"
"Don't wait up for me, pet. I may be very late."
The door closed. She was gone.
Jim didn't go after her. He half-rose from his chair. Then he dropped back and pondered the turn of events. So that was what had come between them. He thought about this a while. Then his mind drifted to the conversation he'd had with Clete Watts that afternoon.
He'd gotten through to Clete without any great trouble. Clete was polite and friendly, but not over-cordial.
"Sure I remember you, Jim. I remember the other fellows, too. I've been planning to get in touch but well, you know how it is. Time flies."
"You've gotten to be a pretty mysterious figure, Clete. Cloak-and-dagger stuff. Heard you were with the CIA."
"Indirectly. But I'm just an ordinary physicist. I do a job and collect a paycheck. Simple as that."
"Clete, the reason I called Mike Bevins and I are getting the old group together. Something's come up. I won't talk about it over the phone-"
"You can speak freely. This wire isn't tapped."
"It's quite personal, Clete. About the old days-"
Was he going to have the same trouble here he'd had with Tom Weathers? Might as well find out.
"The night we were out in the woods, Clete."
He was. He could feel Clete Watts tighten over the phone.
"Aren't you going a little far back?"
"It's the way things worked out. I'm sure that when you hear what's been going on "
"I don't want to seem rude, Jim, but I'm a pretty busy man these days. And frankly, I'm not interested in a rehash of something that I consider ancient history."
"But "
"I just don't want to talk about that, Jim. And I advise you and Bevins to forget. As a matter-of-fact, I don't think of myself as having been too deeply involved."
"Oh, you don't! Then who took his necktie off and "
"I said I don't want to discuss that."
"Okay, Clete But if trouble comes, don't tell us we didn't warn you."
It was Jim who hung up this time.
And now, with his world in sour shape generally, Jim sat staring hi the door through which Laurel had passed and wondered if he was slipping. He hadn't been able to convince either of his old friends that they were in danger. He hadn't been able to keep his wife from walking out on him.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Clete Watts had done very well; better than any of the others of the old Ludlow high school group. Backward in school during his high school days, he'd been somewhat older than the rest, but he'd made up for it later in college and was now safely launched on an important career. Still a junior so far as experience was concerned, he hadn't had to scrimp and struggle, because family money had come to his rescue enabling him to move into Kenton, one of the finer suburbs of the city.
And that was where Betty Watts answered the kitchen door bell around mid-afternoon of that day.
Betty was a tall, arresting brunette who didn't look at all domestic in the apron she was wearing. She always gave the impression that she belonged in a bathing, suit preferably a skimpy bikini on some glamorous beach.
The man who waited at the door was a stranger to her, but he had an interesting face; not ugly in any sense, but it gave Betty the impression that the skin was too tight to be comfortable
The man didn't seem to mind it, though. He smiled and removed his hat and said, "Mrs. Watts? I'm from the plant My name is Philip Henderson.'
Philip Henderson meant nothing to Betty, but the plant did. It was the sun around which she and Clete shaped their lives. Anyone from the plant had automatic access to the Watts home.
"Won't you come in. Mr. Henderson? You'll have to excuse me. I'm doing a little baking. My husband-likes apple turnovers and the frozen ones "
"I quite understand." the man said. He looked around and appeared to approve of what he saw. "You have a very nice home here."
"Thank you. It's not as pretentious as some of the others on the block, but Clete and I are quite content."
"Clete is highly thought of at the plant."
"Won't you come into the living room, Mr. Henderson? But first let me get this apron off."
"I think the apron is very becoming," the man said approvingly.
"Thank you, but it's hardly a costume for receiving guests."
They went into the living room where Betty offered him a chair. He continued to favor the place with his inspection and continued to appear pleased.
"I see you've followed a rustic motif."
"Yes. A sort of hunting lodge effect. Clete is basically an out-of-doors man."
"Loves the woods, eh?"
"Yes. We get out as much as we can."
Betty Was sure Mr. Henderson would eventually get to the reason for his visit and did not press him. She sat down on the lounge, folding her skirt tight across her knees, and waited.
Her mistake was reaching for a cigarette. As she took it from the box on the coffee table, the man was on his feet moving in with a lighter.
She wasn't quite sure what happened after that. His movements were too quick, too practiced, too decisive.
But in a matter of moments, the picture had changed sharply. He had whipped a black cloth from his pocket while extending the lighter. Then, in a flash, the cloth was around her mouth, cutting off the scream of surprise that welled up automatically.
"I'm sorry I have to do this, Mrs. Watts," the man said.
But his sorrow did not in any way temper his actions. As Betty, her eyes wide from fear and consternation, began to fight, he seized her arms and locked them behind her back.
"Don't fight. That would be useless," he said.
Betty didn't agree. Fighting was well worthwhile in her book, and she went at him with all she had. He forced her to the floor and she continued to struggle, coming up on her knees and kicking out in desperation.
But that did no good. She caught a glimpse of a bright strip of cloth, a necktie, and then, with his knee in the small of her back, the man bound her wrists together securely.
He arose, bent down, and rolled Betty over on her back. She glared up at him. Her throat worked as she screamed but only a harmless blur of sound came out.
He stepped back, the preliminary work done, and Betty raised one leg and kicked out at him. Her foot connected with nothing. She kicked out with the other leg. Safe from any injury, he contemplated his handiwork. Her skirts were high now, revealing gorgeous legs, the smooth flesh creamy and flawless Her panties, tight over their area, were very thin and concealed nothing. She kicked out again, with both feet, and the high-waisted skirt bunched up to uncover a strong, flat waist.
The man studied her thoughtfully as she lay helpless
"You have beautiful legs, Mrs. Watts. A beautiful body. I'm sure they're a great joy to your husband."
Betty struggled and kicked. She squealed behind the gag and glared at him.
"I knew another girl." he went on sadly. "'She had beautiful legs, too. A beautiful body."
Betty had inched along on her back to get closer to him. She kicked out with both feet. He stepped aside.
"That girl was a joy to your husband, too."
Then his reverie ended and his tight face turned grim. Again he reached into his pocket and brought out a coil of thin rope. He turned and went to the archway that separated the living room from what appeared to be a den and television room. He looked up and studied the open beam that arched across the top of the archway.
"It will do nicely," he murmured.
Returning to Betty, he reached down and seized her unceremoniously by the ankles. She squalled indignantly but the muffled sounds were lost on him as he dragged her toward the archway on her back.
The man did not read her reaction in her face because the dragging action spread Betty's full skirt over her head. Thus her face was hidden. Only her lush body was visible with the upper band of the skirt trying to pull over her breasts, half-revealing them.
With his victim stretched under the archway, the man looked at her and frowned.
"This isn't right," he muttered. "I tied your arms wrong. If I left them that way, they would break."
He studied her while she fought with the skirt that hid her face.
"I must, loosen your arms and tie them in front. Will you allow me to do it, or will you fight?"
Betty whipped and tumbled and. kicked, indicating that there would be ho quarter. She would fight.
He sighed. "I'm sorry you feel that way."
Up to this point, he had been more careless with her than brutal, but now, when he untied her arms, he jerked them around ruthlessly until they were over her head. Betty cried out from the pain and while it occupied her mind, he retied her wrists over her head.
"That's better," he said almost cheerfully. "Now we can finish the thing."
The thing he referred to consisted of swinging Betty from the overhead beam by her wrists. He was careful, actually considerate, during the operation and when he had her feet a few inches off the floor, he anchored the rope and stepped back as though relieved that the hanging operation was completed.
Then he went about stripping Betty. He laid her clothes neatly aside and stood watching as she kicked in wild abandon.
"If you relax, this will be easier," he said.
Betty gabbled at him through the gag. He responded with an expression of sorrow. "Please believe me. I regret this more than I can say. I also regret what I have to do now. I'll be as quick as possible."
When he'd finished with the last phase of the operation, he glanced at his watch.
"I timed this as accurately as possible," he said. "Your husband should be home within ten minutes. You will not have to suffer long."
He paused in the doorway to the rear of the house. He turned. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Watts," he murmured. "Very sorry...."
Clete didn't get much work done that afternoon. The phone call from Payne threw a wrench into the thinking required for his job.
It was disturbing to get a call like that with no warning. Why couldn't those characters forget about the past, as he had? He'd admitted his guilt long ago. And he'd suitable penance during long dark nights of struggle with his conscience and his guilt complex.
But that was over and done with. The crazy prank of a group of crazy juveniles. They could let the incident ruin their lives if they wanted to, but not Clete.
What, he wondered, did they have in mind now? There was no danger. There couldn't be. The statute of limitations had run out on the thing even if the police had stumbled onto something, which was highly improbable. The girl was in a nut house. Carl was dead. And no one had heard of Lee Windsor for years. He'd probably forgotten the incident, also.
Thus, the old ghost spooked around in his head and he was glad when five o'clock came. That meant home and Betty and the Scotch and soda after work that was one of the highpoints of his day.
It was less than ten minutes on the road and he took the last corner a little too fast. But the risk was worth it. He eased into the driveway and went in through the patio door at the side of the house.
Then he looked at the sight that was there to greet him. His muscles locked. Sickness hit the pit of his stomach.
"My God!" he muttered. "My God!"
Betty's wracking sobs had ceased. Her body had stopped trembling. She had successfully blocked Clete's urge to call in a doctor:
"What can we tell him?" she'd pleaded. "That a man came in and hung me naked in the archway and laid a strap across my bottom? I'd rather die! I'd rather die!"
So Clete administered to her bruised wrists and the three red weals across her beautiful buttocks. He'd given her a tranquilizer, and now she was comparatively quiet.
But she wasn't drowsy. Her mind was working alertly and she was no longer in need of cuddling and sympathy.
"He was weird-crazy! It's--it's unbelievable I went through everything and I still doubt that he was even here."
"We'll get the police on his trail," Clete said.
Betty paused before replying. "Are you sure you want the police in on this. Clete?"
His indignation at the question seemed genuine "Good lord' That's a hell of a thing to say! What have I said that could make you think ? " What he said."
"He was obviously crazy. A madman!"
'Of course he was. But there are different kinds of madness. I got the feeling his came from brooding over something. Desire wasn't the motivation. He didn't attack me."
"Let's not talk about that now."
"But I want to. Later I might not be able to. And I'd always wonder. Do you mind if we have our discussion now?"
"Of course not, if you wish. But what's there to discuss?"
"Let me tell you what he said. There were several strange statements. For one thing, he complimented me on my legs and body. That was when he had me on the floor practically naked."
"Betty! Please! Let's drop this for the time being."
"But I don't want to. He said my legs and body were probably a great joy to you. Then he said he'd known another girl that she'd been a great joy to you, too. What did he mean, Clete? What girl was he referring to?"
"How on earth do I know, Betty? You're trying to get sense out of the mouthing of a maniac!"
"Maybe. Maybe not. He kept apologizing for what he said he had to do to me as though I were a hapless pawn in a game that involved others. And everything he did, every move he. made, seemed premeditated."
"That's crazy. An insane mind usual works by whim."
"No. Not with him. He seemed to be recreating a scene. Something that had happened before."
"Or maybe something he imagined had happened."
"Somehow I don't think so. Clete, is there something in your past you haven't told me?"
"No. Now I want you to close your eyes and "
"Something terrible?"
"No, Betty. Now stop it. I know you're emotionally upset, but you're only hurting yourself more."
Betty hunted for words, but they wouldn't form.
"Maybe you're right. I guess we ought to discuss this later, after I've had some sleep."
"That's a fine idea."
"I'm very sleepy."
"Good. Now don't fight the sleep. Close your eyes and empty your mind."
"All right."
Betty's eyes closed. Clete watched her for five minutes. When she was breathing evenly, he got up from the edge of the bed and went to the phone. He dialed and when an answer came he spoke softly.
"Jim, I've been thinking. Maybe there is something the old group should talk about. Count me in on the get-together."
CHAPTER NINE
Lee Windsor lay back on the bed in his shabby room, his eyes closed. His head was in Laurel Payne's lap and she was stroking his forehead with gentle fingers.
"I hate this place," he said. "The dirt, the squalor."
"Then why don't you get out of it? You don't have to live here."
"I do a little while longer."
"Are you hiding from someone, Lee?"
His smile was brief. "What do you think?"
"I don't suppose you want to tell me."
"I don't think that would be very smart."
"You're not convinced that I'm on your side?"
"You couldn't possibly be on my side."
"You may be wrong."
"If you were, you'd be a most remarkable woman."
"Haven't I proven certain exceptional tendencies?" The very fact that I'm here?"
"After what happened, I guess I have to concede that point."
"I won't say I'd agree with whatever you're doing. But I won't be your enemy."
He reached to caress her breast, loose under a soft green sweater. "Do you think you're in love with me, Laurel?"
"I don't know. Are you in love with me?"
"I've wondered. Perhaps this is only physical. We seem to have a tremendous chemical affinity. No woman has ever meant a thing to me in bed. In that respect at least, you're the only woman in the world."
"Do T mean enough to you to make you abandon this crazy thing you're doing?"
"I'm afraid not."
"And you don't want to tell me about it?"
He thought that over. "I think I do want to tell someone. A psychiatrist doesn't fill the bill in a case like this."
"You're going to a psychiatrist."
"Yes."
"Is he good?"
"As good as any, I suppose. But-" He stopped and there was a full minute of silence. Then he said, "Laurel, suppose I told you that this afternoon I went to a woman's home and hung her naked to an overhead beam and left her that way for her husband to find?"
"I'd believe you," Laurel said.
"And that doesn't revolt you? Doesn't send you shuddering out the door?"
"No. As I said, I'm a very remarkable woman. But you do stir my curiosity."
"Isn't your first urge to implore me to stop the things I'm doing?"
"Of course. But I don't think I'd succeed."
"I began a long time ago," Lee said.
"First, Lee, let me ask you a question. I know about Caron and myself. Have there been many others?"
"There have been four. There will be one more."
"Were any of them injured? I mean-oh, I think you know what I mean."
"No worse than you were, Laurel. I'm sure there was no fun for Mrs. Watts, hanging by her arms. This has been a matter of distributing among five women the punishment and brutality that a single girl once took."
"I don't understand, but I don't think you expect me to."
"I admit to a terrible injustice to those women a terrible injustice to you, but I think they get credit though they'll never be aware of it of saving the lives of their husbands."
"It all sounds very complicated."
"It is, I suppose. But if I hadn't conceived this form of vengeance, there would have been only one other. I would have had to kill those five men including your husband."
"You must have had a very strong reason."
"I did."
"And I don't think it's quite fair to tell me that must without giving me the whole story."
"You were there when the thing happened. You remember the group that went together in high school back in Ludlow. They never accepted Carl and me. And I think the girls resented Barbara."
"As I remember, we did. We thought she was snobbish. Anyhow, it was easier to reject her than to accept her. That I recall."
"Do you remember the night of the sophomore prom?"
"I think so. Yes yes. I remember. It was a fiasco of sorts. Some of the boys brought liquor. There was a fight on the gym floor and the teachers and chaperones had their hands full."
"That's right. Carl and I stayed away, but Barbara wanted to go even though she didn't have an escort. So she went alone. Later, Carl and I heard there was trouble, and we drove over to get Barbara. She was gone and someone told us some of the boys had offered to drive her home."
"We went home, but she wasn't there. We were uneasy because we'd heard those boys had started the trouble and were drunk at the time of the fight."
"It was pretty awful. One of those crazy things. A lot of the boys got drunk."
"We knew a place in the woods they went sometimes when they wanted to drink beer and have bull sessions, so we drove out there. We found five boys abusing Barbara."
The silence rang in Laurel's ears. Somehow, Lee's narration had recreated that night in Ludlow, and Barbara was thinking as she would have thought then, had she known the facts. She shuddered.
"I don't know what to say."
"There's nothing to say. The time for words is long past. When we got there, they were pushing Barbara around in a kind of mad circle, as though they'd gone out of their minds."
"Jim was one of them?"
'Jim, Frank Lovell, Tom Weathers, Mike Bevins, Clete Watts. Alone, they would have been harmless. Any pair of them would not have lost their sanity. But the five of them constituted a mob. They drew their insane strength from each other.
"Carl and I went a little crazy, so I guess it was partly our fault. If we'd retained our own sanity we could probably have shamed them out of what they were doing. But we lunged in and angered them.
"They beat us unmercifully. Carl was knocked out. I was beaten semi-conscious, too to a point where I couldn't function. So I lay there and watched them abuse Barbara. The memory of what each of them did to Barbara has governed my vengeance. Jim used the whip on Barbara making her run naked in a circle. That was the part you paid for in the woods."
Lee stopped talking and took Laurel's hand with his own and held it. Laurel wondered what thoughts were running through his mind. But she did not ask.
"Clete Watts got the hanging idea. It brought much hilarity. Then-" Again Lee stopped and continuing appeared to become a great effort. "Then-at the finish only three of them raped her."
Laurel did not ask for the names. Frank Lovell had to be one. Jim, another. But who was the third? Had Lee already inflicted corresponding punishment upon that wife? Laurel found herself hoping that he had. She did not care for the emotions that stirred within her at the thought the question engendered. Lee had one wife left to visit. Would he rape her? Laurel drew him closer to her and tried not to think of him as taking another woman.
"Crazy all so crazy " she breathed. "Yes." His vice was weary.
"So long ago. Why did you wait so long, Lee?"
"When the mad fire inside them died out, they let us take Barbara away. Carl was in shock and I wasn't in much better shape myself. I wasn't alert enough to keep him from taking the wheel. You know what happened then. And I'm sure it was intentional on Carl's part. I'll always believe he tried to kill all three of us. But only he was killed. I don't know how Barbara would have come out if the accident hadn't occurred. I tell myself that it contributed the most toward her crack-up. The permanent brain damage certainly came from the accident.
"My face was terribly mutilated. There were a great many operations. They gave me back what I have now. But there was something else; the incident in the woods was blocked out of my mind it came back about a year ago. That's why my vengeance has been so long delayed."
They were silent for a time. Then Laurel said, "Do you feel better now that you've told me the story?"
"Yes, I think I do."
"Are you ready to end this? Or must you go on to whatever finish you planned?"
"I must go on. Unless you betray me. Will you tell lim?
"No. I'll tell no one."
"How can you rationalize that? You have a conscience. You still have to live with yourself."
"I can rationalize." Laurel gently stroked his cheek. "I'll tell myself I'm a priestess something like that. I'll say your confession is sacred, a trust, privileged."
"That's quite novel," he replied. "But I'll want you to tell them about me, who I am, where I live."
"Lee! No! They'll destroy you."
"Perhaps. Maybe I deserve it after what I've done."
She drew him fiercely into her arms. "I don't want anything to happen to you!"
"We'll see how things work out."
"At least, we have tonight."
"Yes. We have tonight."
He got up and lifted her to her feet and tenderly undressed her. He made a rite of this also, but one for the moment; a memory he was creating, not one that haunted him from the past.
Stripping off her sweater, he kissed each of her breasts, cupping his hands around them and pressing his lips against the dark tips.
Laurel trembled and pressed his head hard against her breast.
"Darling, darling. Don't ever go away."
He removed her skirt and garter belt, panties and stockings, in a single slow, luxurious operation. As he did he managed to brush her flesh in a series of light, inflaming caresses.
Laurel closed her eyes and stood motionless.
When he was finished, she extended her hands to catch his.
"Now you."
She initiated a quivering rite also, her face close to his body as she stripped off his garments. Then she worshipped him and caressed him glorying in the trembling of his limbs as he responded to her urgent ministrations to of lust.
She arose. He seized her, pressing her back on the bed, and their hungry mouths met. Her teeth closed to his tongue and held, while she caressed with her own.
Then she released him and lay back. "Kiss me," she whispered. "Kiss me all over, lover. Find new places to kiss. Let me know your kiss everywhere."
He moved her around like a glowing vibrant doll and excited her tingling nerves even further. Wherever he could reach, he left the print of his lips as she strained this way and that to help him.
"Now you," she said again.
But he would be put off no longer. His whole body was vibrating with desire and his whisper turned savage.
"I want to make you scream. I want to--. "
"Yes, yes! Destroy me!"
There was end of tenderness and finesse. He moved to her and she cried out. But then they had started and the violence heightened.
But he stopped on the edge of the peak and she saw a devil's smile on his face.
"I'm getting to know you," he whispered.
"Please," she begged.
"No. Not yet."
"Now! Now! You are a devil."
Again the frantic rhythm of love. She clawed at his back, already marked by her nails.
When she screamed, he did not have time to stop her, except by clamping his mouth to hers, stifling her breath but not her ecstasy.
Again, the sensation, was unbearable, but he did not inflict punishment on her. He took her gently in his arms and they shared exhaustion as they clung to each other
Time passed. They slept.
Laurel awoke first and kissed him.
"What time is it?"
"I don't know. I'll look."
"No, it doesn't matter. There is something T must have from you."
While she took what she wanted, he lay holding her head in his hands. He lunged again and there was punishment but she gloried in that, and then crawled whimpering to his arms and they slept again.
She awoke and sighed. "I wish this would never end. I wish we could stay here forever."
"You must leave."
"Once more before I go," she begged. "All right," he agreed. "Once more." And that was like the first time for Laurel, as though he had never thrilled her before.
"I must never lose you," she whispered.
Laurel got home a little after tour. Payne, sleeping fitfully, awoke and scowled at her.
"Where have you been."
"Out."
"That's not an answer."
She looked at him in silent regard as she stripped off her sweater. She saw his eyes on her nipples and she wondered if he saw any change. In her mind there had to be a change. They had to be different. They'd been caressed and loved, and their pride had to show.
"I never once asked you where you'd been, Jim. Several times you never came home at all and still I didn't ask."
"That's all over now. Things have changed."
"Have they?"
"Yes. And you'd better understand that."
"Is that a threat."
"Take it as you like."
She reached for her sweater. "Then perhaps I'd better leave now."
"Oh, don't be so dramatic," he growled. "Come to bed."
At about the same time that night, Frank Lovell was I awakened by a sound in the bed. He opened his eyes. Caron was mumbling. He held his ear close.
"Please, now! Hard! Hard!"
Her lips were parted. They shone in the night light. She smiled and face twitched expressively.
She stirred and reached out, finding Frank. She gripped him cruelly. He winced as her body jerked. "Now," she whispered. "Oh, now-"
Her teeth clenched. He lay there watching knowing what was happening, cursing under his breath because he also knew that he was not in her dream.
"That rat," he muttered. "I'll find him. I'll kill him before he ruins any more women."
But he knew he wasn't really interested in service to other husbands. Let them worry about their own wives. He was interested only in what the louse had done to Caron
He'd had her in reality and he'd made her remember him in her dreams.
He heard the two quick gasps that signalled her supreme moment. Then she twisted wantonly and smiled.
This was too much! Too damned much! Lying there watching his wife dreaming of love from another man.
He shook her roughly. "Caron. Wake up."
Her eyes opened. "What's the matter, Frank?"
"You woke me up."
"What was I doing?"
"You were snoring."
"But I never snore. She smiled. "I was having the nicest dream.'
"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked acidly. But she already drifted off to sleep again.
CHAPTER TEN
The five met the following evening at SEVEN o'clock in a private room at Ernie's Place. They were stiff and ill-at-ease, and it was not difficult to see that something other than the pursuit of pleasure had brought them together. i The first thing Tom Weathers did was to walk up and extended his hand to Jim Sayres.
"I'm sorry about that phone conversation. It was just that you caught me off-guard, kind of. I didn't know quite what to say."
"Forget it," Jim said. "We're all here. That's the main thing."
"I could use a drink," Lovell said. "You fellows want to join me?"
They all did and the drinks were ordered and brought in while they sat stiffly around and waited.
With the waiter gone, Clete Watts, who'd stayed a little apart from the rest he felt he'd outgrown them to a great extent said, "We ought to put someone in the chair. How about you, Mike?"
Mike Bevins looked around uncertainly.
"That's fine with me," Sayers seconded.
A general aye. arose and Mike moved over and stood at the head of the table.
"Okay, but there'll be nothing formal about this. We'll just talk it out and see what's to be done."
"That sounds sensible," Tom agreed. "Maybe somebody will brief me. I got a sketchy idea of what this is all about Jim on the way over. I understand Lee Windsor is on the rampage. Will somebody tell me from there?"
"I don't think there's any use wasting time by being careful with words," Mike said. "It comes down to this: several of our wives have been molested "
"Let's use the right words and leave no doubt," Jim Sayres cut in. "Raped. Criminally abused. That's what's been going on."
"Correct," Mike said. "I'll outline a few more facts and then we're open for questions and discussions. There has been a pattern to these attacks that seems to point to Lee Windsor-he doesn't have to be identified to any of you, I'm sure. This looks as like a vengeance plan in retaliation for what happened in Ludlow when we were in high school."
There was silence. Mike's eyes circled the table. "I don't think we have to discuss that incident either. We'll assume all of us remember clearly." He paused again. "If any of you have forgotten "
"Let's get on with this, Mike," Sayres demanded.
"Okay. I think we can ignore any possibility of these attacks being unassociated."
"How many have there been?" Weathers asked.
Mike said, "Will all the men whose wives have been attacked, please raise their hands?"
He put the request in the form of a plea, in case some of them objected. Three hands went up. Bevins looked around the table and slowly raised his own.
This surprised Jim Sayres. He looked a little hurt, but did not comment!
Bevins spoke wryly. "I think now we have concrete evidence of the cause we have in common."
Frank and Jim had by now turned questioning eyes on Clete Watts. They obviously hadn't expected his hand to go up. He grimly ignored them.
"At the risk of going over old ground," Mike said, "I'll bring up the obvious question. Why, if Lee Windsor committed these outrages, wasn't he recognized by the wives familiar with him from the days in Ludlow? In the face of this it seems certain that Lee did not commit the attacks personally."
What would have appeared to be the next obvious question was asked only by Tom Weathers who was still in the dark on the point. "If it wasn't Lee, where's the association?"
Bevins searched for an answer. "The pattern of the attacks," he said. "Believe me, Tom, the similarity is too marked to be ignored."
"I guess I have to accept that," he said.
"I'll expand on them for you later if you want me to," Jim Sayres told him.
Weathers raised an impatient hand. "That won't be necessary. And I can't understand why we even have to sit here and kick this thing around. Our next step is logical. Go to the police."
Cold silence hit him form every direction. Bevins said, "We've been trying to avoid that."
"Avoid it? Why for God's sake? Isn't that what the cops are for? To protect harassed citizens?"
"We've tried to avoid the police," Mike repeated stubbornly. "There are angles to this thing."
"Angles, slim angles!" Tom said angrily. "We're talking like a lot of juveniles. We need help from the law to stop this man."
"Sure," Lovell growled. "That's your point of view.'
"Why isn't it everyone's point of view?"
"The answer to that is simple," Clete said. "You can be very righteous because you haven't got anything to lose. Your wife hasn't been attacked. You won't be called on to air any gory details."
"That's a hell of a thing to say," Tom stormed. "If she'd been attacked I'd be even more eager to call the cops."
"I think you might find things a little different if you were actually faced with the situation," Jim Payne cut in.
Weathers shrugged. "Well, that's the way I feel, so I guess I'm not going to be of much help to you fellows. I've made my suggestion."
"We'll hold it in the file for the moment," Mike said. "Any other ideas?"
'I was thinking of private assistance," Jim said. "A private detective."
"Logical," Lovell offered, "but it would all end up in the same place if the private eye smoked him out. The law. A private detective would only be doing their work for them."
"Possibly," Payne said. "But maybe not. Once we find him, we could take over."
They all thought that over in silence. Finally Weathers spoke out.
"If you're talking about taking the law into your own hands, include me out. I don't go for that sort of thing."
"I see your point." Clete said. "We'd like to think the same way. But with us, that sort of thinking has become somewhat of a luxury."
"You're talking about mob rule," Weathers said hotly.
Clete looked around. "I don't think we're exactly a mob. We're five men in a highly personal form of trouble, that's true. But I don't think we're going to riot in the streets."
"The way I see it," Lovell said, "the police allowed the attacks. They proved inefficient in protecting us. Therefore we have a right to consider our own counter-measures."
Tom Weathers smiled and shook his head. "Neat, neat. Smart thinking for the opposition. But I still won't get mixed up in this if you fellows plan to move on your own."
"Then maybe you'd better leave, Tom." Bevins made the suggestion quietly and a silence followed. "Now wait a minute," Clete said. "Let's not really start acting like juveniles. Let's not break up before we get started." He turned to Weathers. "Tom, do you want out? If you do, just say so."
"It looks to me as though I'm not wanted."
"On the contrary. I think we all need each other. After all, we aren't just planning a barbecue here. All our careers are at stake. No one can say what trend this thing might take."
"I have a suggestion," Bevins said.
"Let's hear it."
"A compromise that might keep us together. We'll go ahead as it was suggested. Get some private help. This, I think is logical, because we can't do anything until we locate Lee Windsor. We'll find him first and decide on procedure at that time."
They thought this over. Clete looked at Weathers.
"How about that. Does it meet with your approval?"
Tom Weathers got up from his chair. "I don't think so. If you fellows aren't willing to go to the police now, I don't think you'll change your minds if you get your hands on Windsor. As I .see it, I'd only be putting myself in deeper by going along."
Clete shrugged. "AH right, then I guess you'd better bow out."
"One thing," Lovell said. "Are you going to the police on your own, Tom?"
"Why should I? I haven't anything to see them about. And I think I'm able to protect my wife from a degenerate."
Hostility hung in the air but no one said anything.
Weathers turned from the table. "Good night," he said "Good luck in your endeavors."
He left. They sat looking at each other. Bevins chuckled grimly. "And then there were four," he said "And now, gentlemen. Where do we go from here?"
"Let's find out if anyone has any information that would help us. Has anyone checked on Lee Windsor?"
"His sister " Lovell said.
The effect of those two words on the group was clearly marked even though subtle as the group guilt complex permeated the ether. Eyes dropped. A fist or two doubled subconsciously. Clete Watts reached jerkily for a cigarette. And they all cursed Frank for his pause; for highlighting the terrible past by sudden silence.
"She is in a mental home near town. The accident," he hastened to add. "There was brain damage when they crashed into the wall that night."
"That crash was a terrible tragedy," Sayres murmured and they cursed him in turn for not just keeping his mouth shut.
"What about Lee?" Mike asked a little harshly.
"I went there, trying to trace him down. But it was no go. The head man has no contact with him or claims he hasn't. All the money they get comes through a bank."
"Then why bring Barbara up if what you did gets us no closer to Lee?" Clete asked the question coldly and Jim Payne leaned forward.
"What bank?" Jim asked.
"The Second National, I think he said."
"Aren't you sure?"
"It was the Second National."
"I might be able to get something there. If he's on record. I'll see what I can do."
"I checked the telephone book," Bevins said. "I imagine we all know Windsor isn't listed. Has anyone access to the listing on private phone numbers?"
"You're assuming Lee Windsor has an address in the city."
"If he's behind this thing he certainly must be in the city."
"Maybe not."
Clete looked at Frank in annoyance. "Hell, man! Why do you take the negative attitude? At least it's an attempt to move in the right direction."
"Do you want a discussion, or don't you?" Frank flared.
Bevins raised his hands. "Gentlemen! Let's take it easy! Our nerves are raw, but let's try to keep things under control."
"I could use another drink," Clete said.
"A good idea. Why don't you ring for the waiter?"
They sat in silence after the signal had been given.
But when the door opened, it wasn't the waiter who appeared. It was Weathers. His face was dark with anger. His doubled fists shook as he came forward and pressed them against the table.
"Include me in, gentlemen," he said. "I want to get that guy."
"Tom "
He turned his narrowed eyes on Bevins.
"I went home after I left here. I found Alice. She's been raped!"
When Weathers left his apartment that night to go to the meeting, he hadn't noticed the dark figure standing in a doorway nearby: Lee Windsor waiting to fit the last piece into his pattern of vengeance.
He waited five minutes, then entered Tom's building, mounted the stairs to his apartment, and rang the bell.
This section of the pattern would be different. There would be nothing here but pure violence, just as Weather's part had been pure violence that night in the woods outside Ludlow.
As he waited, Lee grimly forced himself to recall the incident. They'd all finished with Barbara. She'd had about all she could take. Weathers hadn't participated, up to that point. He'd been involved in the beating administered to the twins, but that was all. Then he'd stood back and participated vicariously.
But the very last minute, when the rest were ready to release Barbara to her brothers, when she'd arisen from the last attacked and reeled drunkenly toward them, he'd sprung forward with a guttural cry Lee would always remember.
"I want my turn!"
And he'd added one more attack to her torture.
And now Lee stood rigid, waiting for the door to open. One part of him dreaded what was to come and he'd needed that memory to strengthen that part; to keep himself from embarking on this last adventure as a divided man.
He rang again. Then footsteps approached on the inside. The door opened.
"I thought you took your key "
Lee pushed the door hard and leaped into action. He saw Alice Weather's eyes widen in fear but that was all there was time for before Lee overwhelmed her.
The eyes continued to bulge out at him over the gagging hand he locked across her mouth.
He was surprised to find a practically naked woman in his arms, but that at least explained the delay. Alice had come out of the shower and dropped a skimpy, knee-length gown over her head to answer the bell she thought her husband had rung.
"Be quiet," Lee warned.
The eyes mirrored fear, but there was also returning courage in them. They seemed to ask how she could do otherwise, when his black-gloved hand was over her mouth.
He forced her back until the lounge touched her, then down upon it.
Aside from a first instinctive effort, she hadn't fought him. What he could see of her expression was now alert, waiting, and not stunned or shocked.
"If you don't fight, you won't be hurt,! ' he said.
She tried to talk under his hand. The words sounded like: "All right. I'm not fighting am I?"
He maneuvered one hand to his pocket and brought out the black cloth gag
"I'm going to put this around your mouth."
She struggled. Her mouth came partially clear of his hand. "That won't be necessary. I'm no fool. If you want to ransack the place, go ahead. I'm not going to get hurt for a few odds and ends."
"I'm not here to rob you."
Her eyes held his. "I'm still not interested in getting hurt."
Uncertain, he allowed her mouth to remain clear. "I have no intention of injuring you unless I have to."
"If I don't resist, why would that be necessary?"
Lee hadn't expected his victim to have such a self-controlled manner about her. He hadn't walked in looking for logic.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"Because if I yelled I could be dead before help arrived. I'd rather stay alive and pass up the help."
"Undress!" he commanded.
"You idiot! I already am undressed."
Lee had been thrown completely off-balance. He realized he was making a fool of himself. "I came here to rape you," he said, even though he realized the words made him look even more of a fool.
"I'd begun to suspect that," Alice replied. "I must say, you don't look the type, though. You look to me like a man who could get all he wanted without having to take anything by force."
He'd dropped his hands and now sat looking at her. The skimpy gown had been pushed up around her neck. At a loss for words, he drank in her loveliness. Alice Weathers had had a great deal to start with. Shed taken care of herself, and the care and attention showed.
Her figure was perfect. Her skin was flawless. Her legs were long and slim and she made no attempt to pull the gown down and take advantage of even that dubious protection.
Sure of herself now, she said, "How am I? Do you like what you see?"
He regarded her somberly. "You're very beautiful'; Somehow, everything had gone to pieces for Lee. He'd taken all the risks into consideration and had minimized them so far as possible. He'd timed himself and was reconciled to the risks involved.
The only thing he hadn't taken into consideration was the possibility of a completely willing victim.
He did not know what to do.
Alice Weathers shook her head and smiled. "You're the darndest rapist I ever met."
"Are you acquainted with quite a few?" Lee asked acidly.
"I've met all kinds in my time. And I expect to meet more. But I think I'll always remember you."
"Thank you."
He was wondering what to do. This girl had negated his whole project by her blase attitude. How do you rape a girl who doesn't make force necessary?
"If you ask me," she taunted, "I'd say your heart isn't in your work." She sprang quickly to her feet. "Come on into the bedroom."
His mental confusion got tangled with his nerves and muscles and he was slow in reacting. When he finally made his legs work, he rushed into the bedroom after her with a certain alarm. A trick, perhaps.
He almost wished there had been a trick when he saw Alice stretched naked on the bed.
"Does this help?" she asked.
When he hesitated, she extended a hand. "Come here and sit down. Let's talk."
He went silently to the bed and sat looking at her.
She smiled. "You might take off your hat and gloves before we start."
He said nothing.
"This is marvelous," she breathed. "Absolutely marvelous. In all of life I treasure my experiences most. That's about all a person gets out of life-experience." She reached out and took the hand he'd just stripped of its glove. "And if you think you're going to get away before this one is over, you're all wrong."
She let him take his other glove off. Then she took that hand and placed it at her breast. He remained motionless.
Amused now, she glanced at his hand. "You can move your fingers around if you want to. I'm not made of glass. I won't break."
In frustration, he squeezed.
"Ouch! Now take things a little easy, please! I'm not exactly fragile, but remember our agreement. No injury."
Lee refused to react to either her obvious eagerness or her mockery.
"You do know how to proceed, don't you? Your mother did tell you about women?"
He remained silent. This dampened her bantering mood and her regard turned thoughtful. "You're strange. You're real weird, but I don't think you're dangerous. I'm not the least bit afraid you'll go back on your word."
Evidently lulled into a further sense of security by his lack of reaction, she reached out and began unbuttoning his clothing. A langorous look appeared in her eyes and was reflected in the softness of her voice as she said, "Darling, this will be rape under the most ideal circumstances. The victim does all the work."
Desperately, he tried to retrieve the ground he'd lost. He'd come too far to be defeated at this stage.
"Will you tell your husband about this?"
"Are you crazy? Why should I do that?"
"He might be interested."
"You should know my husband. He certainly would."
"I do know him."
Her smile vanished. "You two are acquainted."
"I'm sure he would remember me if you gave him my name." ;
"Wait a minute," she snapped. "This isn't a scheme of his. is it?"
"What do you mean."
"He didn't hire you to . "
"To rape his wife? Hardly." Her mind was racing. "But maybe he's trying to prove something. Maybe he was damn sure I wouldn't have to be raped. Are you two in on this together."
"For what possible reason?"
"Maybe he's trying to frame me. Maybe he's got another dame somewhere around town."
It was Lee's turn to mock. "You two certainly trust each other, don't you? An ideal marriage."
"Never mind that." She was "sitting up, pushing him away. He thought her beauty was enhanced by her indignation. "Tell me what goes here."
"Not what you seem to suspect. But I do want your husband to find out about this."
"Now I know you're crazy."
Another of his victims had said that and he'd reacted violently. But now he felt otherwise. The accusation had no emotional effect on him.
"This is important to me."
She'd changed. Now she was wary. "Why don't you just get the hell out of here."
"Not until I accomplish what I came for."
"All right. Let's accomplish. Then I want you to get out."
"But I don't think that would work. I'm sure you wouldn't tell your husband you'd been molested."
"You're damned right I wouldn't, but I misled you on one little thing. I'm not afraid to scream and take my chances. Help would come pretty quick."
"Then maybe we'd better do something about that."
His indecision was gone. He'd pushed the black gag back into his pocket. It was out before Alice could blink. He forced her down on the bed, held her partially helpless while he swiftly put the gag into place. Then he sat back, holding her wrists while she struggled.
Her eyes blazed. She cursed him in blurred ragings as he held her arms rigid.
"That's better." he said grimly. "Now you're acting more like a raped wife should act."
The cord came out of the pocket as he dodged the blows from her partially freed fists. Then they were speedily bound.
Next, he anchored them to the headboard of the bed and this gave him leeway to step back and consider his next move.
Alice was all fight now. She lashed around, fought like a trapped tigress, and cursed him through the gag. Had there been destructive fire in a glare, he would have been burned beyond recognition.
"Not good enough," he murmured. "Not nearly good enough."
He corrected this by taking a pocket knife out and cutting a strand from the rope. This, he attached to Alice's left ankle.
The ankle secured, he fed the rope under the bed, caught it up on the far side, and reached for her right ankle.
Divining his purpose, she redoubled her resistance, but that did her no good. He seized the ankle, and pulled slowly but firmly against the pressure of the rope on the other ankle.
When he had Alice arranged to his satisfaction, he tied the second knot.
He stood back and surveyed his work. "That will do, I think."
She continued to rage at him.
"Your marital status is in no danger," he said. "Even if your husband had hired me, the result would be in your favor. This proves you definitely do have to be raped, that you don't treat intruders into your bedroom cordially."
He glanced at his watch. "I've played my luck to the limit," he said. "Your husband might have merely gone out for a paper."
But it was obvious that his mind was elsewhere. She stopped swearing at him and appeared to be trying to read his thoughts.
And they would have made interesting reading. He was pondering his operation, trying to convince himself that this was complete. But he could not honestly do this. The operation had been based from the beginning on what he'd seen as stark and real facts.
And one of the facts leered at him as he stood there.
Tom Weathers had raped Barbara.
He advanced toward the bed. Alice's eyes widened as he approached.
There was a strange, incredibly impersonal act that he performed next, certainly to be filed as unique among Alice's experience.
He took her with his face close to hers, their eyes locked in combat, as she did the only thing she could do-lie there and submit.
Even the moment of culminating passion was brief for him, and she appeared to experience nothing at all.
When he was finished, he withdrew to the end of the bed and looked at her and repeated as though by rote:
"I'm sorry I can't help you."
With that, he left Alice to her thoughts and her anger.
He certainly had played his luck to the very end. He missed Tom's return by a scant five minutes.
Weathers entered the apartment and found the living room empty. He called out. In the bedroom, Alice tried to answer but got no response.
Tom scowled at the emptiness and knew what had happened. He'd told her he'd be away for the whole evening and she'd made the most of it. Out at some bar. Or in some guy's apartment. He knew that the only reason he'd never tripped her up was because he hadn't tried. He didn't want to be faced with the truth.
But that had to end. A man couldn't go on forever overlooking his wife's infidelities.
He made a drink and stood by the window looking out. It was beautiful with all its lights, but it could be an awfully lonely place if you were alone in it.
Something had to be done.
He thought it over as he strolled into the bedroom. He stared. His hand opened and the drink fell to the floor.
"My God!"
He stumbled and almost fell down reaching the bed. His hands were clumsy as he clawed at the knots that held Alice's feet and hands.
Then she was in his arms, sobbing hysterically. "Oh, Tom! He was terrible! Terrible! The doorbell rang and I thought it was you coming back for something. So I opened ,it without putting the chain on and "
He held her close. "You're all right, now, baby.
You're all right. I'm here now." A long sob wracked her.
"This man forced his way in. This beast. I was horribly frightened but I tried to reason with him. That did no good. He said he was going to take me."
"Honey, honey quit torturing yourself."
"I tried to talk him out of this. I appealed to his manhood."
"He wouldn't have any manhood, baby."
"I tried to appeal to him, anyhow. I said, suppose someone did this to his daughter or his wife. How would he feel."
"Quiet, honey," Tom murmured. "That's over now. Ease down."
"I couldn't talk to him, so I tried to stall him until help came "
"Why didn't you scream?" I
"I was afraid. Then he he gagged me and I couldn't."
Tom held her close while she wept. His feelings were mixed. There was the rage.
But there was something else. His faith in Alice had been restored. A man had entered their apartment and she'd fought him! Shed tried to keep herself only for her husband. She'd actually risked her life in doing this.
Weathers acknowledged himself as a narrow, jealous husband and resolved he would be one no more. He had a good and faithful wife!
Alice quieted down. She raised her face and smiled at him, and the smile made her look so young and clean and beautiful that his heart suffered a great wrench.
"Baby, are you all right now?"
"I'm I'm better," Alice sniffled.
"I've got to go out again for a little while. It's important. I won't be long."
"That will be all right. I'll lock and bolt and chain the door and not let anyone in the apartment unless it's you."
"When I get back we'll talk this whole thing over."
"I'll be waiting," she said, holding her face up for another kiss.
After Tom left, Alice made herself a drink. She conceded that she was a pretty good actress, but her anger at that raping louse had helped. She'd been able to keep her emotions at the high pitch he'd brought them to and then reverse them for Tom.
All in all, the incident had worked out fortunately. Tom trusted her now. The past was all wiped out. And maybe she'd just settle down and be what he wanted. She'd had plenty of fun. Men were beginning to pall.
But she would never forget lying there, tied up by that weird man. Maybe sometime she'd get him in a similar position.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
"That's the last one," Windsor said.
Laurel, looking achingly attractive in a tweed suit and a brown slouch hat, answered quietly. "I'm glad."
They'd met on a corner near Blueside Park and the shadows around them were as deep as the shadows she sensed in his mind.
"Would you like to go somewhere for a drink."
"I'd rather walk."
They moved off down the street walking slowly and for a time there was silence.
Laurel used the time to examine herself; to look at the new Laurel. There definitely was a new Laurel, no doubt about that. A woman whose thoughts and actions were totally centered on one man.
And that left a single, undisputable answer.
She was in love with Lee.
She thought back to when she'd known him in Ludlow. There had been no indication then of her present feeling. She'd scarcely thought of him since.
But here it was and what was the best thing to do about it?
I could forget about him, she told herself. At least, I could turn away from him and make it stick. There would be some bad nights, but I'd get over them.
But was that a good idea? From a practical standpoint, it was the best of possible ideas. Why involve herself with a man who was mentally unsettled at the very best; possibly a man who could conceivably fly to pieces and land in an asylum over night?
That wouldn't happen, she thought fiercely. And even as she realized her conviction was terribly subjective, she pursued it. He'd had ample reason to do what he'd done. In fact, it took a remarkably strong mind to stand up under what he'd been through. So the truth lay in the opposite direction. He was stable and solid. But on the other hand Oh, what was the truth?
So she arrived at no conclusion, for fear, she realized, that it would be the wrong one that she would walk away from Lee.
But the casual manner in which she reached out and found his hand belied this last fear. She was not going to walk away. At least, not tonight.
"What now?" she asked.
"I don't know."
"You said something about wanting them to know who you are."
"That's the final act."
"Why do you want to put yourself into their power?"
"I didn't say that I. did."
"You give me that impression."
"That's not quite the way it is. In fact, I'm debating the finale that I planned. I'm wondering if another wouldn't be more appropriate."
"Can you tell me about it?"
"It would consist of doing nothing at all. That would leave them to wonder. They would not know. I'm finished. Then they would spend a long time fearing. Every time they came home they would wonder what they were going to find."
"I hate to hear you say that."
"Why? Do you have sympathy for them?"
"No. I have sympathy only for their wives."
"But that's all over."
"What I'm thinking about mainly, though, is you, Lee. Your hatred for them from now on won't be really hurting them at all. But it will eat at you, corrode you. Hate is the most destructive of emotions."
"I know."
"And after more than eight years-"
"You forget. It hasn't been eight years with me. So far as my reactions are concerned, the tragedy could have happened only a year ago."
"Do you think time will help?"
"I'm sure it will."
She squeezed his hand. "I'd like to help too."
"You've been a great help. At first you only confused me. but now."
"Now, what?"
"I'm in love with you, Laurel."
"I was hoping you'd say that."
"What is your answer?"
"I think you know. I'm in love with you, too. Haven't you seen the change?"
"I haven't known you very long."
"But do you see the same woman you whipped naked through the woods?"
"No. I think not."
"I think the change is permanent."
"We're discussing this as though there were no problems We seem to have forgotten your husband."
Laurel's answer to that was silence until Lee glanced across at her.
"I actually don't have much to recommend me," she said. "My marriage hasn't been ideal from a moral standpoint. It's been more of a convenient arrangement than anything else."
"I don't come too highly recommended myself."
"Are we proposing to each other?"
"I'm not sure, but we do seem to have more than a passing interest in one another."
"As I said, my present marriage is an arrangement. I don't quite know how it worked into that. It started well enough; I mean we both expected to make it work. But I guess there wasn't enough mutual interest. When Jim started engaging in extramarital activities, I knew about him but I didn't care. In fact I think I welcomed them because they relieved me of obligations."
"I suppose modern marriages sometimes work out that way "
"Except for a couple of affairs that died at birth, I've never taken advantage of my freedom," Laurel said "It just seemed too much trouble. I don't know whether that makes me a better prospect for the role of faithful wife or not. I hope it does."
"I think you have more cause to doubt me than the other way around. I certainly haven't presented an image of a potentially satisfactory husband."
Laurel reached out and again found the hand she had dropped at the beginning of her confession. "I think we're talking about non-essentials," she said as she felt Lee's quick grip. "We've had no control over what's happened to us. Intellectually, neither of us wanted it. But emotionally that's another matter."
"What about your husband? Would he give you a divorce?" I
"There's little he could do about it. I don't think he'd dare to contest it."
They moved into the park, strongly conscious of each other, their talk so much camouflage for what was really in their minds.
They walked toward the most deserted section, but not commenting on that, either strolling casually along as though nothing pressed them.
But their thinking was as of one mind. This was brought forth only when Lee said, "We should go home, to my room. This isn't "
"No," Laurel whispered huskily. "I can't wait. Here just as we were in the woods."
He broke pace and stopped.
"Lee," Laurel said, "Put your arms around me. I want to have your arms around me."
If he wanted to object, if he wanted her in a more civilized manner, he was unable to voice his objections. They moved together and their mouths met there in the darkness: one dim shadow blending. Laurel's mouth moved hungrily and her words were lost in mumbled entreaties as they caressed each other and made feverish love there in the park they shared.
His hands searched for what he knew awaited them. Whimpering against his throat, she accepted the touch, bracing her body against him and standing in what would have been regarded by an observer as the clumsiest of positions. Leaning against him, braced as he groped under and around her clothing, her breath came in quick, spasmodic jerks as though she were being splashed with cold water.
"I'm sorry-I could have made this easier, worn only my dress."
"That's all right." There was an immediacy, a reflection of need in his voice.
"Rip them off-as you did in the woods!" she demanded.
"No, not here."
"Back in the bushes, then."
"Hold still, please."
He spoke as though he'd found some rare treasure that would vanish if she moved. Her whole body trembled as she tried to obey. When she spoke again there was mixture of ecstasy and fear in her voice.
'Why are we so good together?"
He continued to love her, not answering, and her knees weakened as she clung to him. And even as she surrendered to his magic, there was protest.
"Here on the walk! like animals!" An acceptance of shame.
Then, with a growl deep in his throat, he seized her around the waist and carried her off the walk into an even darker area of the park.
She was whimpering as he pushed her down to the grass. They pawed at each other in an eagerness that was a .fumbling hunger, struggling together until a pattern formed in what each was attempting.
Their twisting struggles continued for a time, but with clearer purpose now because they helped each other. When they were positioned for the act of love they both desired, Laurel's whimper of eagerness was heightened by the' anticipation, and she reached out to find his head and his face and run feverish fingers along the lips that would bring her the ecstasy she sought from him.
His hands reached also and for a few moments, they fondled each other's faces and lips and mouths. Then they again melted to a single shadow.
And there was silence because there could not be any other room for endearments or for love in this intoxicating fling.
Laurel's legs and torso strained to meet and increase the inexpressible bliss that was rising. She wanted to tell him how wonderful he was, but her attempts to do this were only chokings deep in her throat, as passion blocked the words she tried to form.
Then she was suddenly fighting because she could do nothing else. The pleasure had become a choking and a fright as, wildly incongruously, she remembered a line from a poem:
Each man kills the thing he loves. . .
Lee was killing her. How long could she live in the his passion?
As though from far away, she could hear the rhythmic grunts of his passionate effort. How much could she take?
Her struggles became frantic. She clawed? at him but he was not aware of her nails desperately cutting his back and buttocks.
Then Laurel's explosion of ecstasy mingled with the fear and panic that blocked her vocal protests as Lee strove in sudden frenzy to achieve his own explosion.
Her fighting availed nothing. He was not aware of that.
Hurry, darling--oh, please hurry.
This silent prayer went out to him. Laurel, her lungs bursting, arched her body in a double frenzy of both pleasure and agony.
Then he, too, achieved. One final, frantic rush toward delight and Laurel knew that he had been hurled over the precipice of passion.
He weakened and collapsed. She was able to struggle from the helpless position in which she had been placed.
She rolled over to her side, doubled into a pathetic ball, and began to cough. The coughs wracked her, accompanied by great convulsive gasps.
Aghast at what he had done, he turned until they were again head to head and he took her into his arms.
"I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry."
She answered him between spasms. "It's all right, darling."
She was able to laugh weakly.
"I'll bet a girl never knew a man so so completely."
"I can't trust myself," he said bitterly. "I don't know; I don't know."
She clung to him and buried her face against his chest. "Can there be any doubt now?"
"Doubt?"
"That we could ever get along without each other?"
"Nothing is clear when I'm with you. Nothing else seems important."
"If you left me, I'd follow you. I'd find you no matter where you went."
"I wouldn't be able to leave you."
"I wouldn't care whether you had another woman or not. There would be no shame in me."
"I'd never want another woman."
Then her mood changed because the mood they'd both been in was supercharged with tension that had to give. She giggled with overtones of hysteria.
"Do you know where we are?"
"In the park."
"On the grass. We got the idea and just dropped where we were. Naked in the park."
"Not quite naked."
"Why are we so good this way just loving, not making plans?"
"I don't know."
She laughed. "You won't catch me that way again. You almost had a corpse on your hands."
He drew her closer. "Don't say that!'
"We've got to get up. We've got to leave here. Suppose someone came along?"
"No one did."
'I wouldn't care," Laurel said. "I'd invite them to watch. I'd say, 'Look what we have! Look what we do for each other. Aren't you jealous?' That's what I'd say to them."
His fingers were caressing her face. "You have changed."
"How?"
"When we met you were hard, somehow, brittle. like a shell you broke out of. What came from the shell is a different person."
She again buried her face against his chest with what might have been a sob.
"I'm afraid."
"Why?"
"I'm afraid of what's in my mind. The things I want from you."
"What do you want?"
"Violence. I remember being whipped naked through the woods, and the memory thrills me. What you did just now. I get excited thinking about your violence. I don't think that's good. Where will that lead us?"
"Into each other's arms again and again."
"But love should be tenderness."
"Not necessarily. Love is violence, too. Tender for tender people. Violent for our kind."
"Lee, Lee! What if the love wore off? I'd die. You've spoiled me for any other man."
"I'm glad."
Suddenly Laurel shivered. "Are you cold?"
"No. I'm not cold at all. There was just something else."
"What?"
"I don't know. I can't really say. As though death just walked by."
"You're becoming too imaginative. We must go."
He lifted her to her feet and they dressed in the darkness, helping each other, and then they went back as they'd come.
He stopped a block from her house and looked at her in the light of a street lamp.
"You're very beautiful."
"You're leaving me now. Where will you go."
"Back to my room."
"You can leave that place now, can't you."
"Pretty soon."
"I don't like to think of you in that old shabby room."
"I have another place here in town."
"I'd like to see it."
"There's no point. We could never live there."
"I suppose not. Where will we live."
"Some place where it's beautiful. You should live only in beautiful places."
Her face clouded. "Every time you leave me I'm afraid I'll never see you again."
"You'll see me again."
"Can I meet you tomorrow?"
"Doesn't your husband wonder about these night trips?"
"That doesn't matter."
"The same place, then. The same time."
She stepped unusually close to him. "The same thing?"
"Let's hope not."
"Good night, darling."
He kissed her quickly and strode away
"Where have you been?"
Jim was reading his paper. He was in his easy chair with his slippers on.
Laurel stared at him. "You've changed considerably too."
His scowl was a look of self-righteousness. "What do you mean too? Who else has changed."
"I think I have."
He surveyed her critically. "You're getting a little careless about your appearance. Your hair is mussed and your dress is wrinkled. You look as though you'd been sleeping in the park."
"Thanks."
"Where have you been?"
Laurel did not answer. She crossed the room and poured herself a drink and came back. "It doesn't matter."
His harshness faded. "Laurel, it does matter. I care where you've been. You mentioned a change, and you're right."
"It's too late."
"It's never too late when two people care for each other."
"Perhaps you're right, at that, but it's got to be two people."
"You mean--. "
"I want a divorce."
"Laurel! That's ridiculous. What's wrong with you?"
"I want a divorce, Jim."
"Is there another man?"
"That's none of your business."
"Are you kidding? Don't forget, I happen to be your husband."
"But you won't contest a divorce."
"What makes you think I won't?"
"A little brunette. I believe you call her your secretary. She makes me think you won't."
"There's nothing between us. Not any more. In fact, you have no definite proof that there ever was anything."
"Is that what she'd say on the witness stand?"
"There'll be no divorce. If you'll just cool down and. think this over awhile, you'll realize how stupid it would be breaking our lives up."
"We'll talk about it later," Laurel said. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."
"I'll be along in a little while..."
Jim Payne wanted the time to think. He'd done a good job of covering his emotions with Laurel in the room, but it had been difficult.
He was no fool, and he realized now that it had all been his own fault; he'd messed up the marriage cheated on Laurel; because he'd known she hadn't cheated on him. This made it one-sided enough to be satisfactory.
But now things were different. He was sick of Linda Vale. There had been tearful scenes at the office because deposing her as a mistress made her a lousy secretary also.
As soon as he could think of a way to handle it, he was going to fire her.
And he wasn't interested in any more mistresses. His whole emotional capacity was filled with jealousy. Laurel obviously had found a man. Some louse had moved in on him, and he wasn't going to get away with that. He would deal with the rat in due time, and now it was necessary to keep Laurel from making any rash moves until this other stinking matter was cleared up. A man couldn't occupy his mind with two major projects at one time and do justice to either.
They were going to have another meeting as soon as possible and get a report from Frank Lovell on private detective agencies.
Once they'd located Lee Windsor--
The phone rang. Jim glared at it angrily. Linda again? If she was on the line, it would be the third time and he'd told her not to bother him at home told her in no uncertain terms.
But it wasn't Linda. It was Frank Lovell. "Jim! There's hell to pay."
"Who got raped this time."
"Tom Weathers lost his nerve. He went to the cops. He spilled the whole story I"
CHAPTER TWELVE
Sullen, defiant, angry, Jim Payne sat in an anteroom in the police station, a crowded room in that it was occupied by eleven people, including a Sergeant Bohls who had functioned with amazing energy over a twenty-four hour period.
"You gentlemen will remain here," he said. "The ladies will view the suspects alone."
Bohls was a middle-aged man with thick white hair and a lot of crow's feet at the corners of his eyes. They were hard eyes and they dared any of the husbands to object None did.
"There will be seven men in the .line-up," he said. "They are not all criminals. The ones under suspicion were picked up under doubtful circumstances around town. If our man is in the line, I'm sure you ladies will be happy to point him out to us."
The wives were as quiet and subdued as the husbands, but Jim thought he detected a difference. There was no anger, in them. Their other emotions, whatever they were, did not stand out as prominently as did those of the men.
Laurel had spoken hardly a word since Sergeant Bohls had appeared at the door that morning. Her initial agitation had been marked, but then she'd settled into a sort of apathy and he hadn't been able to communicate with her.
"We'll go now," Bohls said. "Please file out this door."
The five watched Bohls superintend the reluctant exit. They had had only the briefest of contacts prior to this summons and they were all waiting to get their verbal teeth into that fink, Tom Weathers. All this was his fault. He'd double-crossed them. It would be hard to keep from working him over.
But they were not afforded even the luxury of verbal castigation, because, as Sergeant Bohls left, a uniformed policeman entered, closed the ,door, and stood against it with his arms folded.
Jim voiced his disappointment. "What the hell. Are we prisoners or something?"
Speaking with dead-pan gravity, the uniformed man said, "On the contrary, sir. You are our guests."
Then he lapsed into silence and stared meditatively at the wall.
Jim folded his arms and slumped back into his chair. There was nothing to do but wait. The tension mounted. Jim wondered how Laurel was taking the thing. She'd looked tight and tense as she'd filed out of the room.
Laurel had been tight and tense. She had been close to panic. What if they did have Lee in the line-up? Would she be able to stand it seeing him pointed out, thrown into a cell, treated like the most contemptible of criminals?
But this dread was nothing to what hit her after they'd been taken to a room with a large glass window, told to watch the platform beyond the glass, and been briefed on elementary procedure
"The men will mount the platform from the end on your left. They will stand against the wall and you will be given plenty of time to study them."
This was the terrible moment-when a door opened and the men filed in.
And Lee was the one who came first.
He'd been picked up! He was in the hands of the police!
Laurel wanted to look at her four companions. How would they react? Which of them would be the first to identify Lee?
But she could not do this. She could only stare at the platform on the other side of the glass and pray; pray as her world collapsed around her; as she visualized what would take place in the days to come. The indictment. The trial. Lee going behind bars.
Lee taken from her.
Desperately, she tried to hold her mind on the things of the moment. She realized there had been a long silence but now it was broken by the quiet, relentless voice of Sergeant Bohls.
"And now I ask you, is the man who attacked you in that line-up?"
No one spoke. Again the silence.
"Mrs. Lovell, is the man who attacked you in the line?"
Caron was seated beside Laurel. Laurel turned to look at her. The light was dim and she could not see Caron's face.
But she heard her voice: "No. He isn't there."
And then Laurel sat through what seemed to her a miracle.
"Mrs. Weathers?"
Alice's voice after a frightening pause. "No no, I don't see him there."
Hope flared for Laurel. Tom had been the one who'd gone to the police. So if Alice refused to identify Lee, then perhaps the rest would-
"Mrs. Bevins, do you see the man?"
Grace's voice was little more than a whisper. "No. I don't see him."
"Mrs. Watts?"
"He isn't there."
Sergeant Bohls was being stubborn. He would carry it out to the end. "Mrs. Payne?"
Laurel answered promptly and clearly, hoping that her joy did not reflect in her reply:
"The man who attacked me isn't there."
She heard Bohls' sigh of disappointment. Then he spoke into a microphone that carried through the heavy glass panel. "You can let them go, Mike."
The men filed off the platform. And perhaps merely to make conservation, Bohls said, "The men in the center two of them were police officers."
Laurel's heart sang. If she'd known that, she would have pointed out the one who hadn't shaved as her attacker. He looked as though he might not be above dragging a girl into the park and taking what he wanted.
They were back in the small room. The faces of five husbands asked the same silent question.
Bohls answered it indirectly. "We'll notify you when further suspects are taken into custody."
That was all he said but his attitude was eloquent. He didn't like this group. He thought that men who did not report criminal attacks upon their wives to the police were not good citizens. But there was nothing he could do about it, and he watched them file out.
The group broke up quickly on the sidewalk outside the police station. The men went directly to their various jobs, and Caron and Laurel, going in the same direction moved off together.
"I haven't seen much of you, Laurel," Caron said. "I called a couple of times, but you weren't home."
"I've been very busy," Laurel said. She wished that Caron had gone home alone. She wanted to be alone, herself, with her thoughts.
She would have preferred, had it been possible, to stay near the station in the hope that she could see Lee after they released him. Now, she wanted to get home in case he phoned her. It had been such a shock, seeing him on that platform. She wanted to know what had happened why they had picked him up.
"Nobody identified him," Caron was saying. "Isn't that surprising?"
"Why didn't you identify him?"
"Oh, I couldn't. I just couldn't! I'd have died, going to court telling the details in front of people."
"I understand what you mean."
"Do you think it was the same with the others?"
"I imagine so."
She did not believe this, though. That couldn't have been true with all of them. There had no doubt been some influence from the husbands; discussions at home the night before. Nothing had been said in the Payne apartment because she herself had refused to discuss it with Jim. And Tom Weathers certainly hadn't wanted Alice to withhold identification.
Laurel found herself getting angry as she thought of Alice. And jealous. That little tramp! Lying down for any man who got her alone. She was no doubt hopins Lee would come back for a second visit.
Well, she was going to be disappointed. She would never see Lee aaain. Not if Laurel had any say.
Laurel heard Caron's voice. "Would you like to stop off somewhere for a cup of coffee?"
"What? Oh-no, honey. I think I'll go right on home. I've got a headache. The police station and all that."
"Then I'll call you and we'll get together."
"Do that," Laurel said heartily, and hurried on her way.
Lee called an hour later, and Laurel had never known such joy as she experienced from the sound of his voice.
"Oh, darling, you're so sweet to call. I've been frantic."
"I thought you'd probably be worried."
"Where are you?"
"In a phone booth. I was just released."
"How did it happen?"
"I was walking near Blueside Park rather late. A patrol car went by. I wasn't aware that any complaint had been made at the time, or I'd have been more careful. It turned out to be a general roundup of late-night loiterers. A drag-net operation."
"I almost died when I saw you on that platform."
"I couldn't see through the glass but I knew you were there. I could visualize you."
"The others were there, too."
"I couldn't visualize them, though. They were only blanks. They all had blank faces."
"When will I see you, darling?"
"Soon. This has changed everything. We must make new plans."
"Jim has been impossible."
"Does he know about us?"
"He knows there is someone. He doesn't know who you are."
"You will divorce him?"
"Of course. I want to be with you."
"Perhaps it would be better if we stayed apart until the divorce is over.
"That shouldn't be necessary. I'll go to Reno. I don't want to be separated from you, though."
"Nothing is holding me here."
"Then let's go soon."
"How soon?"
"I can pack my things and meet you tonight."
"I don't think it would be a good idea for me to go so soon after the police station thing. They might be watching me."
"But the witnesses didn't identify you."
"I think Bohls is suspicious. He thinks there was a conspiracy."
Laurel laughed. "He was so right."
"He's a smart man."
"How soon then, darling?"
"I think you should go to Reno alone. I'll follow in a few days."
"I'm afraid. What if you never came? What if something happened? I'd be out there all alone."
"Nothing will happen."
"All right. Whatever you say, darling. When do you want me to leave."
"Will you tell Jim?"
"No. There would only be a scene. I'll leave him a note."
"Why don't you plan it for tomorrow.? He can find the note when he gets home from work after you're safely on a plane."
"When will you come?"
"Next week."
"Can't I see you before I go?"
"Would that be wise?"
"I'd just as soon be out in the evening. Being here with Jim and knowing you're alone is maddening."
"Then come tonight."
The spell of him moved to her even over the wire, it seemed. Her voice turned husky and languorous. "Darling. I want you. I want you right now. If I were there, you know what we'd be doing, don't you?"
"That's not fair. Stop reminding me."
She laughed. "I wouldn't have any clothes on."
"I think you're a sensualist," he said.
The sound of his voice was enough to raise Laurel's spirits. The recollection of his touch and the excitement she felt when he was close to her sent the blood singing in her veins.
"Only for you, darling. What are you going to do this afternoon?"
"I'm going to stay in out of harm's way."
"Suppose I come over for just a little while."
"I have to go out later," he said. "To see another woman?"
"To see a man about money. I've got to transfer my account out of the city or we'll find ourselves broke and destitute after we leave."
"How about just a couple of hours? I can't stand talking to you this way and not being with you."
"If we talk any longer I won't be able to, either."
There was gay mockery in her laughter. "Am I having any visible effect on you?"
"Why don't you come over and find out?"
"I'll be right over, darling," she said. Then she laughed again and added. "Don't leave before I get there."
"You'll have to hurry," he replied.
Jim Sayres hadn't been satisfied. There'd been something radically wrong at the police station. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it, but when the five women returned to the anteroom, he'd sensed something.
He was certain they'd seen their man.
But if the cop was satisfied that they hadn't, there was little Jim could have done about it.
He tried to hide his feelings, but he would have liked not hit'! ! , better than to have cornered Laurel and put on the pressure. She gave him no chance, however, hurrying away with Caron Lovell without even a word to him.
He watched her as she hurried off up the street and her haste struck him as unnatural. This bothered him. He mulled it over in his mind as he returned to the office.
It still bothered him when he got there and after a few minutes of trying to concentrate on his work, he gave it up and beaded for home. It would be best to have this thing out with Laurel once and for all.
But he never reached the apartment building because as he rounded the corner from the bus stop, he saw Laurel coming out. She turned in the other direction or she would have seen him. He was about to call out, but he changed his mind. Again there was that haste on her part. She strode along, looking neither left nor right, as though she was late for an appointment.
It was the easiest thing in the world for Jim to fall in behind and start trailing her.
She started looking around then, obviously hunting for a cab. And fortunately for Jim, she did not find one until she got to Pratt Boulevard, two streets over, where cabs were in abundance. So he hailed one of his own and fell in behind her
The driver reacted more with amusement than suspicion as Jim asked him to follow the cab ahead, and there wasn't anything particularly dramatic about the chase. Both cabs rolled sedately into the poorer section of the city and when the one in front stopped outside of a shabby brownstone, Jim's driver stopped a half a block away, turned and grinned.
"Okay?"
"Okay," Jim replied. He felt a little foolish.
Jim paid the fare and gave the driver a dollar tip.
"Good luck," the driver said.
"Thanks."
The cab rolled away, the driver still grinning, and Jim approached the brownstone. He entered and found that what had originally been the front hall of a family dwelling was now an outer foyer with a lock on the door that was obviously supposed to work but didn't.
He opened the door and looked inside. The inner hallway was deserted. A narrow stairway led upward into the dimness of a mysterious second floor.
Jim mounted the stairs, his nerves taut. Expecting every moment to be challenged, he reached the top and saw six doors, three on either side, of a reverse hallway that ran the length of the building.
From where he stood, at the head of the stairs, he could hear faint voices.
As Jim Payne contemplated the upper hallway of the shabby brownstone, Laurel, in the far room on the left, clung passionately to Lee Windsor. Their mouths were pressed together in a sensuous attempt to feed the strange, exotic hunger that gripped them.
"Darling." Laurel sighed. "When I'm not with you I'm only half a person. Hold me. Closer, closer."
He lifted her and carried her to the bed and forced her backward across it.
"This is some kind of a madness," he said huskily. "A vast hunger I can't satisfy."
"We" can't satisfy," Laurel said. "Your arms, darling. I want them around me. I made everything easy for you. I didn't wear "
His mouth stopped her and she pressed her feet against the floor, arching her body to meet him.
"Hurt me!" she whispered fiercely, "so I'll know this isn't a dream."
Then she gritted her teeth against the pain she'd asked for and again her nails clawed at his back. The mouth she pressed against his ear was eager, as she teased him. Her hips strained and jerked violently.
"Like that?" he asked.
"Yes. like that. But more more. Then let me do the other thing."
They made love in frantic silence and when they were finished and they lay exhausted, Laurel said. "That should be enough for a week." Again the slightly hysterical laugh. "At least a week. But that's not enough; that will last me only a few hours. Until I'm here again tonight."
"Tonight," he said, "there'll be more."
"Do you know what I'm thinking of."
"What?"
"When you get to Reno after you follow me."
"What then?"
"We'll go to bed. We'll make love and sleep and wake up and make love again. We'll order our breakfasts and dinners sent up and we'll keep on making love as long as we want to...."
"That would be forever, don't you think?"
"Yes, yes-but what will I do while I'm waiting for you?"
"Shall I show you?"
"No, not now. But I wouldn't. I couldn't. Only you can do that. I'd be cheating."
"You'd better go now."
"I'll be back at ten o'clock. You'll be here."
"Yes.
She laughed shakily. "We're like children. We've lost all sense of responsibility. Will we always be that way?"
"Let's hope so."
He lifted a light blanket from where it had fallen on the floor, and wrapped that around her carefully and tenderly, moving her around like an obedient, life-sized doll.
"You mustn't catch cold," he said.
"I stay warm thinking of you."
She left ten minutes later, slipped down the dirty stairway that had become her ladder to heaven; out into the street that was bleak and empty without Lee; back to the apartment that was now a kind of prison. But on the way, she stopped to phone him: "Darling, I had to call to tell you what I'm thinking about.
"The woods. That first time. After you'd whipped me over the rocks and we found the glade. That first time."
"You're a sensualist."
She laughed and went on and found that Jim wasn't home yet. She was glad.
The evening paper that carried an account of the affair hit the stands about three o'clock that afternoon with an early edition. The headline read: RAPIST SOUGHT IN POLICE DRAGNET.
The story, carefully written so as to avoid any possible libel suits, went on to call the case strange. It hinted subtly at a possible scandal and outlined the peculiar pattern involved attacks against a group of wives who were acquainted with each other and mixed socially.
This might have been forgotten by the public but the story told of the group visit to the station, five couples grimly trying to find the man who had systematically raped five wives. They fancifully hinted at deep motives, without the least idea that they existed, and called the mysterious rapist a possible avenger.
But worst of all, they printed five names and addresses. Thus, they casually ruined five couples . .
Lovell arrived home at six o'clock to find Caron hysterical.
"The phone! It's been ringing and ringing! Men making dirty remarks. They call and laugh and say wicked things! Frank, what are we going to do?"
The phone rang at that moment. Lovell picked it up, broke the connection, and left the receiver beside the phone.
"What are we going to do?" he asked. "I'm going to find a new iob for one thing. I've been fired."
"Oh, Frank ! "
"McElroy called me in. He was so damned diplomatic! So damned polite! Sympathetic as hell, but he said he thought it best for all concerned if we severed relations. He had a check for two month's pay all ready for me."
Lovell spoke in a tone of bitter frustration. Then his voice turned savage. "Tom Weathers! That stupid louse. It was his fault! He ruined all of us!"
Frank lunged at the phone and dialed viciously. "I'll tell the rat!"
But he slammed the phone down again. "Busy!" he raged. "I hope they keep him up all night with their damned obscene phone calls."
"What are we going to do, Frank?"
"Move Get out of town. What else?" He laughed bitterly. "I don't think the landlord will hold us to our lease. He's probably got a check for our deposit made out already."
"Or, Frank! I'm so miserable."
He changed again, drawing her close. He held her tenderly. "Don't worry, honey. There are a lot of other cities in this country. I'm a good accountant. We'll make out all right...."
Tom Weathers' phone hadn't been busy. It too had been off the hook. Tom sat staring at it, moodily sipping a drink.
"A hell of a thing." he muttered. "A hell of a thing."
Alice was viewing things in a more practical manner. "We're going to have to leave this apartment."
"We'll have the phone changed, get an unlisted number."
"That won't be enough."
"Why not?
"Because every degenerate in town knows our name and address. I'd be afraid to open the door for fear there'd be a man there waiting to grab me. We've got to leave."
"All I did was what any good citizen would do."
"All right, but that doesn't matter now. If you're called to City Hall to receive a good citizen's medal, you'll go alone. I won't be with you."
"It's a hell of a thing."
"You said that. It doesn't help a bit. Do you know what I'm going to do?"
His eyes questioned sullenly.
"I'm getting out of town. I'm taking a vacation. I'll go to that 'lace in Maine where we roughed it three years ago. They take unattached women without raising their eyebrows."
"How long will you stay?"
"I don't know." Alice's shoulders drooped, showing that her defiant front had been a conscious effort. "I may never come back, Tom. Maybe I'll just stay there where it's peaceful and grow old..."
Things were no better in the Clete Watts residence. Clete came home early and found Betty in tears.
"That phone. It's been ringing all afternoon."
As in the Lovell household, it rang as the man of the house glanced at it. But Clete reacted more violently. He strode across the room and picked it up and jerked the cord out of the wall. He threw the phone on the floor.
"I can't go back to the plant," he said. "Why not?"
"Why not? Because they look at me like a cuckolded husband. They talk behind their hands. They're very polite to my face and then they laugh at me behind my back."
"It will die down."
"When? Next month? Next year? And what about you? Aren't you ashamed to be seen in the neighborhood? Aren't you aware of the fact that men are going to proposition you on the street?"
"Maybe one, or two, but I'll carry a hatpin. I promise you it won't get to be a custom propositioning Betty Watts."
"That's fine, but what do you suppose my chances of advancement are now?"
"I don't know. What are they?"
"Nil. They don't exist. We go somewhere and start over."
"If that's the way it is, you don't want the old job if that's the kind of people they are."
"That's academic. It doesn't matter now. We've got to leave the city."
"All right, if you think it's best. Where will we go?"
"I don't know. I've got to think. But first, I want a drink. Then maybe I can get my mind off that damned, informer, Tom Weathers."
"I need a drink, too," Betty said. "I'll pour a couple of doubles."
"Start with two, we'll go on from there..
Mike Bevins held Grace in his arms and let her cry. The phone had been disconnected at the central office in response to an emergency call from Mike.
"It's all right, honey. Take it easy. Everything will work out all right."
"The calls," she sobbed. "The things those men said."
"I know. But you won't have to listen to any more of them. I'm going to sue that damned newspaper!"
"You don't have to bear the brunt," Grace said. "You go to work. You take your trips and go where nobody knows about this."
"Uh-huh. And that's exactly what we're going to do. The two of us. We're going on a trip. I'll stick to road work exclusively for as long as necessary."
"You'll take me?"
"Of course." He lifted her face and smiled and he kissed the tip of her nose. "We'll make a vacation out of it. Why, I'm in a position to go as far as Hawaii, if we want and charge it to the company. In fact they'd be happy if I went to Hawaii and took a survey of possibilities."
"And I can go with you! That would be wonderful, Mike."
"In fact, all this is a break, if we look at it that way. We might never have thought of a vacation."
Grace snuggled against him. "Frank," she whispered. "I love you very much. I want to be with you all the time. Never let me get far away from you again."
"You never will, baby."
Grace sighed. Things would work out. She would make things work out. She would keep her eyes off other men and look at none of them.
It would work she hoped.
Laurel wasn't bothered greatly by the phone calls. After the second man called and suggested he drop over and perform a degenerate act for her benefit, Laurel left the receiver off and waited for Jim to come home.
She filled the time by checking over her clothes and planning what she would take with her. She did not call for reservations for fear there would be a return call before she was ready for Jim to find out she was leaving him.
She spent some time framing the note she would write, but gave that up too when she couldn't put her mind to it.
And still, Jim did not come home.
Six o'clock, seven, eight with no sound of a key in the lock.
Finally. Laurel could stand to wait no longer. She put on her hat and coat and slipped out the back way for fear of meeting him in the street in front of the building.
Once clear,of the neighborhood, she waved down a cab and gave the driver Lee's address.
She found Lee reading a copy of the evening paper, "This has become a real mess," he said.
"Terrible. But that won't affect us, darling. Very soon, we'll be far away."
"What did Jim say?"
"He didn't come home. I waited and waited, and then I just had to get out of the place."
"Did you get any calls?"
Laurel laughed. With Lee close beside her, she couldn't remain in low or apprehensive spirits. "I got two. Both were from men. They wanted to take your place, darling. The last one described in detail exactly how he would go about making me twist in ecstasy on the floor."
"Sound interesting."
"But darling," she said, kissing his ear. "You do so much better than he possibly could have."
"Thank you."
She nuzzled his cheek. "How about showing me that I'm right?"
He pulled her to his arms. "Without a doubt, you're the world's most hopeless sensualist."
"As long as you keep me satisfied, I'll be fine."
Their mouths pressed together, and during the long kiss their positions changed. They had been sitting on the edge of the bed but when they drew their lips apart, they were on the floor in the middle of the room with Laurel looking into Lee's face.
"I think I'll rape you," she said.
His hands moved down her back. "I rape easily, lady."
"Some day I'm going to get a whip and beat you the way you beat me."
"I promise to yell satisfactorily."
Their light mood deepened, Laurel's eye lids drooped as the delicious anticipation made her nerves tingle.
"We've got too many clothes on," she whispered.
"All right, let's do something about that."
"You first." She fumbled with his shirt buttons.
They got up from the floor, and stood facing each other, their hands busy. But passion welled swiftly and soon they were clawing at each other, tearing impeding garments away.
"Hurry, hurry." Laurel breathed. "I can't wait!"
He ripped her panties off.
"Take me! Now! Fast! Don't tease me. You can tease me afterward, but right now I want you to take me."
He threw her savagely to the floor and paused only for the scantest of seconds before he lustfully, hungrily, took her.
She cried out.
But her satisfaction never arrived, because at that moment, the dream turned into a nightmare. There was a crash of splintering wood. Then a louder sound a thundering that filled the room and repeated itself again and again.
Lee's eyes, looking into hers, widened. His mouth twisted. Where there had been passion there was now agony. The thunder became echoes. The agony glazed over. And Lee dropped down beside her, a dead, inert weight.
Now, nothing was real. Nothing but a fantastic imagery seen far away in the center of a whirlpool that went around and around.
"Get up."
She pushed the naked body away from her own and rose, stunned, to her feet.
Jim stood there. But not the Jim she'd known. This Jim had a fixed, unfocused look in his eyes. There was a gun in his hand. He appesJfed to be stunned also, but he moved. He turned and closed the door and braced a chair under the knob.
Laurel stared dully. She looked at the gun and then down at Lee. "You killed him.
"Why don't you kill me?"
"No. lust him."
She sat down on the edge of the bed and they paid no attention to sounds from the outside.
She raised her eyes to the door and he said, "Don't worry. Nobody will come in. They'll just call the police."
Laurel felt there should be panic and hysteria in her, but there was not. Everything was moving in slow motion. Even the words they spoke seemed to come out sluggishly and run down like molasses.
"How did you know?" Laurel asked.
"I followed you this afternoon. I came here and listened through the door."
"You heard him taking me?"
This was crazy, crazy, crazy. When Jim said yes, his tone was no different than if she'd asked him if he wanted a cigarette.
"Why didn't you break in then?"
"I don't know. I heard you say you'd be back. I guess I wanted to wait until I could buy a gun. I don't know."
There had been a timid knocking on the door and a muffled question, but after that, nothing.
"They're calling the police," Jim said.
Laurel looked at the dead body on the floor. That was all it seemed to be. Where was the passion? Where was the love? She could not feel anything any more. Maybe later that would all come back and shape into the agony of loneliness, but now everything was gone.
"We ought to put his clothes on," she said.
"No. Leave him as he is."
"But-"
"No buts about it, let him be." She looked at her own nakedness. "May I dress myself."
"Yes."
She gathered up her garments while he watched. Slowly, she pulled them on.
"Everything will come out now," she said. "Yes."
"You'll be tried for murder."
"I won't be convicted."
"You can't be sure."
"No, of course I can't."
He shook his head like a fighter shaking cobwebs from his brain. "I'm sorry I did it now."
"It's too late to be sorry."
"I hated him. I wanted to see him dead. He deserved it."
"Nobody deserves to be murdered."
"But I don't hate him any more. And there's no satisfaction." He looked at Laurel dully. "Isn't that remarkable? You hate a man enough to kill him and then you find there's no satisfaction."
Laurel stepped into her skirt.
"Were you in love with him?" Jim asked.
"I don't know. I think I was. We had a fantastic sensual relationship."
He nodded as though he understood. "They'll put me away. What will you do?"
"I don't know."
"I can't kill myself. I wish I could, but I simply can't."
Laurel did not answer. She knew that before long, things would snap. This odd emotional back water they were in would not hold them indefinitely. Soon, she would scream and Lee would snap out of his lethargy and react with some kind of high emotion. Maybe he would kill her, or himself, or both of them.
But that didn't make much difference now. She felt herself slipping and fought for control. Just until the police came.
Then she heard them, clumping their way up the stairs.
She looked at Lee as they approached the door and she said the strangest thing of all: "Good-bye, Jim."
And he answered her in the same strange way. "Good-bye, Laurel."
Then the police broke in and wrested the gun from his listless hand.
