Through the scope, I could still see passion's-perspiration glistening on her thighs and belly. My finger tightened around the hair-trigger as she stretched languidly in the bed, raising her lithe arms high over her golden head. The crosshairs criss-crossed above her left breast and I took a breath before pulling the trigger. Then I let the breath out as the bedpost got in my way....
Sweat saturated ray armpits as I continued to watch her through the scope. "Dirty bitch," I murmured aloud at the smile of satisfaction that had slowly dawned across her sensuous face. I knew why she was smiling-she had just made love. Every movement-every gesture-told me that. But I didn't need movements and gestures to tell me that. I knew, because I was the man she had just made love with....
And now I was on a rooftop across the street, a sniper's rifle cradled against my shoulder, and waiting ... just waiting for the moment that I could squeeze the trigger and sniff out her life.
She deserved to die. Just like all the others ahead of her ... some nine or ten now ... I don't quite remember how many there were. Funny, but it's kind of hard to remember things like that ... everything's kind of fuzzy ... but they all deserved it ... every one of them! And they all got it the same way ... right after they made love with me!
And this one would get it, too ... just as soon as she came back into that bedroom. I preferred doing it in the bedroom ... sort of like poetic justice. That's where I made up my mind whether they lived or not and so that's where they had to die.
Kind of hazy trying to remember her name now ... Lynn, I think. Yeah, that's it ... Lynn. But why should I remember her name? I only met her tonight. Just a couple of hours ago, as a matter of fact....
I was sitting in this bar, see ... minding my own business. I had to do that because I didn't know a soul in the place. As a matter-of-fact, I had never been there before ... had never even been in this part of town before. I was on my way home from work and you know how it is driving those damned freeways during the hottest time of year ... whew! You'd give anything for something cool. Well, I had no place to go ... No wife or nothing like that for me, buddy. So the first chance I got, I pulled off the freeway and found myself the coolest looking bar I could find. Guess it was near a college or something, because the place was loaded with young kids. You know the type-so full of life that they make you angry just to look at them. Well, I was sitting there at the bar, cooling off and minding my own business when I see this blond down at the other end give me a come-on smile. Now, I'm not doing anything later tonight and being a normal healthy male animal I immediately get ideas. There's nothing wrong with that, is there? Of course not. So I smile back and tell the bartender to give her a refill of whatever it is that she's drinking. But then, when I see the football player-type take a seat next to her and watch her give him the same kind of a smile, I figure that's enough for me. The cost of one drink. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. And you could have knocked me off that barstool with a feather when a while later I heard this bell-like voice in my ear, saying, "Sitting by yourself on purpose-or would you like some company?"
I turned around and it was the blond with the same come-on smile. "What happened to the fullback?" I asked, turning away from her as if I could care less.
"Fullback? Oh, I get it. Timmy's just a good friend, that's all. Came in to borrow five bucks from me." She said all this with a laugh and it sent shivers up my spine. So much so that I quickly buried my face in my glass of beer to hide my confusion.
"With friends like that who needs enemies?" I quipped, turning around. "But I'm glad to hear it anyway."
"Why?" she asked, climbing onto the stool beside me. I tried not to look at the stretch of the tight capris across her hips and thighs, but only a blindman could help but notice.
Why, indeed? I tried to think up an answer that, while it wouldn't be too obvious, also wouldn't hide what I had in mind. "Let's just say that two's company and three's a crowd," I finally said with a shrug and a smile.
She caught on. Girl's like Lynn always catch on. It's part of their stock in trade. Like they know the score-know what each guy has in mind the minute they start talking-and the only problem is whether she wants to or not. You don't have to convince them-talk them into it-they know what they want and it's either with you or not with you-and anything you do isn't going to change that.
You've seen them. They're called "The In Crowd". Sharp. Hep. Know every angle that's ever been tried-and probably most of those that haven't been tried as yet.
That was this girl. It said so in the way she sat on the barstool, leaning against me just enough to let me know that she was interested but not to push her. Just give her time and she'd make up her mind when she was ready....
It said so in the tantalizing whiff of her perfume. In the low, but not too low, cut of her blouse. In other words, have a peek, buddy ... but that's all you get to see. Like 'em? Sure you do, and maybe you'll get to see the rest ... if I want you to....
It said so in the lively, intimate patter. Full of laughs and jokes-and innuendoes. Words and sounds that let you know she wasn't above a fast shack job-if the mood was right.
That was Lynn, whatever her last name was. I didn't catch it when she told me but I really didn't care. I wasn't going to see her again that was for sure. And as for tonight-well, if things worked out, fine. If they didn't, that was fine, too....
"You sure can put that beer away," she murmured as I chuckalugged a glass. "Don't know when I've seen a man drink like that before."
I wiped the suds off my mouth and shook my head. "That's cause it's so darn hot. Beer's the only thing I ever found that cools me off. That's why I came in her in the first place ... to get a beer to cool off."
She seemed to be thinking about something as she asked, "You've never been in here before?"
I shook my head as I looked around. "Nope. And from the looks of the place, I'd say I wouldn't be missing much."
That seemed to be satisfactory answer to her because she nodded and then quickly finished her drink. "How about a swim?" she then asked.
"A swim? What are you talking about?"
"You know ... pool ... swimming ... getting wet. Doesn't that cool you off?"
I caught on then and laughed. "Oh sure. But there's no pool in my apartment and it's too far to drive to the beach."
"How about friends?"
"What about them?"
"Don't you ever go to a friend's pool?"
"If they invite me."
"I'm inviting you."
I looked at her and smiled. "Am I your friend?" I asked sarcastically.
"Not yet," she answered quickly. "But you'd love to get to know me better, wouldn't you?"
See what I mean about being sharp?
I shrugged, as if I could care less. Then, as I sat there studying her in the mirror behind the bar, I got sore. I don't know why. Maybe it was the too-confident look on her face. Maybe it was the wise-guy attitude. Maybe it was because I was sure she was playing around with me until something better turned up. I don't know, but whatever the reason, I got sore....
"Forget it, honey," I snarled at her. "You're n probably not worth the trouble!"
"Whadya mean?" She sounded hurt and I was glad.
"You look like one of those all-show-no-go broads. A lotta talk but no action."
The hurt showed in her face and I smiled. I liked to hurt girls like Lynn ... they had it coming to them. Somebody's gotta put 'em down or they'll keep walkin' over every man they ever meet.
"Would you like to try?" she asked and it sounded more like a dare than an invitation.
I looked her over, my eyes crawling up and down her torso like centipede's legs and she shivered in reaction. Then I slowly shook my head. "Too hot. Like I said before, I'm just looking for something to cool me off, not overheat me."
She nibbled on a lip while she thought about that. Then, shrugging, she said, "that offer of a pool still goes."
That was better. Now she sounded almost human. And though she didn't know it, I had lost all interest in anything else but the pool. Hell, it was just too damned hot to think of anything else-especially something like making love....
"You got a car?" I asked, standing up. "Or do we go in mine?"
"Why don't you follow me?" she answered. I nodded and then watched her walk toward the exit. It was a nice walk ... it made me wish I had a swing in my backyard like she had. With a sigh, I followed her out the door and to the parking lot. I walked her to a long low yellow Cadillac convertible and then got into my own heap. She was turning the corner as I swung in behind her. I watched her wave into her rear vision mirror and I waved back. But I wasn't smiling....
I don't smile about girls like Lynn.
I was getting that feeling again.
And I shivered in fright because of it-because I knew, if it took control of me, what would happen to Lynn.
She would be dead before the night was over.
I don't know where the feeling came from-or even how to stop it-I only knew that once it took over the girl in the car in front of me would never live to see another day.
And slowly, but surely, it was creeping up out of my gut and spreading its tentacles throughout my being. Warm ... sticky-warm ... so warm that I sensed it even through the heat of the day. Clutching-choking-clutching. Like a hand that had a relentless grip on my throat. I fought it ... every mile of the way on that drive to her apartment-but I couldn't beat it. Couldn't fight it off. Because I didn't know how. How do you fight something that has control over you? What do you use to battle it with? Your mind? You can't do that because that's where it comes from. From some deep, dark, hidden recess ... some corner which, long ago, in our prehistoric past, kept us one step ahead of the monsters that prowled the jungles. That corner which, through the passage of time, got covered up and buried by civilization.
Except when we murder.
Kill.
That's all I knew about it. It was like some sleeping dragon that lay waiting ... waiting ... waiting. And though at rest, it was always ready to come to life. All it needed was the smell of blood to whet its appetite....
And that's what Lynn was doing to me.
And that's why I knew she would die.
As all the others had before her.
And as all the other would after her.
She pulled into the carport and motioned for me to take the empty space beside her car. I shook my head and made a U-turn, parking against the opposite curb. Now that I knew what was going to happen, ail of the forces of cunning and shrewdness took over. I had to park away from the building because I didn't want any suspicious neighbors to remember the car that didn't belong in the carport....
She shrugged as I came across the street and joined her. "What was that all about?" she asked, pointing with her chin at my car.
"Somebody always parks behind me when I park in a carport," I answered quickly. "No sense in getting blocked in ... especially at the time of night I plan to leave."
She turned to look at me because of the innuendo of my answer. Then she smiled and shrugged with her wide mouth. Without another word, I followed her into the building.
There was a large patio area in the center, the apartments all lining and facing the pool in the middle. Because of the heat, the pool was well-filled with swimmers, both male and female. Some of them called out to Lynn and she answered with a nonchalant wave. I kept tight on walking-this was no time to be introduced to any of her friends. Not when the police would be around later asking questions....
Lynn's apartment was on the upper tier in the back. She opened the door and I slipped inside, nodding with satisfaction because of the air-conditioning. Locking the door, she turned to face me. I stood in the center of the room and looked at her. We both waited for the other to say something-to do something. To break the ice. Even though we both knew what was going to happen in that apartment, being human we still had to observe the social amenities. And because of it, I guess she was too embarrassed to talk. Why not? What do you say to a stranger that you're going to make love with....?
But that wasn't the reason for my silence. I had a much better reason than that. What do you say to a beautiful girl that you're going to kill....?
"Ready for that swim now?" she finally asked with a nervous laugh. I watched her move away from the door and head toward a hall that obviously lead to a bedroom somewhere in the rear of the apartment.
But I couldn't go swimming. Not with all those people in the pool. Not now.
"No suit," I said carefully, plopping down on the sofa and picking up a magazine from the coffee table in front of me.
That stopped her. She turned and looked at me. "Suppose I borrow one for you from someone in the building? One of my friends?"
I couldn't let her do that. That would lead to questions about who it was for and all the other little conversations that would end up with a description of me. And so, with a sigh, I shook my head and eased my feet up onto the sofa. Stretching out full-length, I began to idly thumb through the magazine. "Never mind about that swim," I said. "This is just as good."
Over the edge of the magazine I watched her studying me-thinking about me. Then she shrugged and went down the hall. I nodded to myself at the sound of a door closing. Everything was going along fine ... just fine....
If it wasn't for that damned bathing suit she had on when she finally returned.
I've seen bikinis and I've been bikinis, but this one didn't even deserve the name. It looked like three big black polka dots on a white background-and that's all. She had come back down the hall and had posed at the edge of the door-you know, the way a model does ... bending her knee and thrusting her breasts out. And to complete the picture, there was that partially opened mouth with just the tip of the pink tongue showing through. She was waiting for my reaction and she got it....
I dropped the magazine to the floor and licked my dry lips as if in anticipation. Then the anticipation vanished as something dawned on me....
She was going swimming!
She was going down to that pool with all those people. And chances were that sooner or later she'd mention the fact to one of them that she had a friend up in her apartment ... a friend that she might tell all about. Or at least what he looked like....
I couldn't let her go swimming. Hell, I couldn't even let her leave the apartment.
"How about a beer before you go?" I asked nonchalantly, with a smile. "That's all I need ... just a beer and an airconditioned apartment and the promise of you coming back here after you've finished swimming."
She liked the compliment. I saw that in her face as she smiled and went into the kitchen. I heard the opening of a refrigerator and the rattle of a beer can being opened and then sat up as she came back into the living room. When she handed it to me, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her down onto the sofa beside me....
"Hey! What's going on?" she protested without really protesting. "Thought you wanted a beer to cool off!"
My mouth smothered hers and though she continued to squirm under me, I sensed that she still didn't mean it. This was more like what she was used to handling ... she knew what to do about this....
Her lips mouthed mine and her hands went around my neck, drawing my head down hard. It was like she was trying to stop us both from breathing....
But finally we had to come up for air. There was a smile of satisfaction on her face while she tugged with the pair of polka dots that had worked their way up over her breasts revealing the firm, lush flesh peeking under the edge of the material....
"What's the matter?" she asked, struggling to sit up alongside me. "Can't you wait until I come back from the pool?"
I smirked and shook my head. And then my eyes dared her to leave. She licked her lips as if debating whether I was fooling or not. And then, as I knew she would, she decided I wasn't fooling. That if she left to go for a swim, chances were that I wouldn't be there when she got back....
"All right," she said in a low voice. "If that's the way you want it."
"That's the way I want it, baby," I whispered, and then drew her back to the sofa. This time she didn't even pretend to struggle. This time she didn't pretend to resist....
The suck of her breath as I touched the flimsy material of the bra top told me she wanted it as badly as I did.
My hands worked over as our mouths locked together again and it wasn't until I pushed away from her and looked down at the twisting form under me that I saw her nakedness. And then, I sucked in my own breath....
Her skin gleamed. There was a contrasting band of white over her breasts and across her hips from being out of the sun ... but the rest of her was like burnt copper. She looked up at me, saw the stare of admiration and desire, and slowly smiled a contented smile. She was used to having men admire her ... desire her ... and if my reaction had been any different, it probably would have hurt her feelings....
And because of that look I knew I had been right. She would have to die. She deserved to die.
I was the judge.
I was the jury.
And soon, I would be the executioner.
It was then that I lifted myself from her sweating torso and got to my feet. "Not here," I said in a low, hard tone. "Not here. In the bedroom. "
I wasn't asking-I was telling. And I guess she sensed the hardness in my voice. Maybe she wasn't fooling. Or maybe it was because she was too heated up to care about anything else....
Without a word she got off the sofa and walked toward the hall. I watched her go, licking my lips as I studiously observed her nakedness from the rear. Some women are like that-much more sensous and exciting when you see them walking away from you. Every curve-every muscle-every part of them seems to bounce and flow as if sending out a message of what they really are like ... of what they really are capable of. Lynn was like that ... every inch of her told me that....
And because of it, she would die.
Just like all the others.
I followed her, shedding my clothes as I went down the hall toward the bedroom in the rear. She didn't even look to see if I was following, and it wasn't until I closed the door behind me and leaned against it that she turned and looked at me. Her eyes walked over my body as mine had walked over hers and her look of admiration at what she was seeing was obvious....
"You're quite a man," she murmured in a sultry tone.
"Get in that bed and you'll find out just how much," I answered.
She gave me a hard look-like she wasn't used to be told what to do-but she got into the bed....
From the door, I looked down at her. She arched her back and thrust her bare breasts at me as if trying to entice me. But she didn't have to do that-I was already enticed. Then I looked around the room until I found what I was looking for. And I smiled because it was exactly the way I needed it to be....
The window opposite the bed. The window that looked out on a building across the street. A building with a roof. Sometime later that night I would be on that roof. Sometime later that night I would be looking in through that window.
Through a sniper rifle's scope.
Satisfied, I went to the bed.
Her arms reached for me, pulling me down to her. Our nakedness frictioned together as we began to twist and turn and rub-it was as if we were seeking to absorb each the other with our own flesh.
Her eyes closed as our mouths met and our kiss melted the wall that blocked our passions. Now free, our hands began to explore ... to roam ... to touch ... to caress.
To arouse.
I knew she would do the things to me that she was doing. Lynn was that kind of a girl. And though I hated her for it, I didn't stop her. I wanted her to do them. Not because of how she made me feel ... not because of the sensations that seemed to pull at my nerve-endings-but because by doing them she was condemning herself....
By doing them she had lost her last hope of staying alive.
And so I rolled over onto my side so that we were facing each other and gave her even more freedom with her hands and her gingers and her mouth and her lips and her tongue....
We said things to each other. Unintelligible things. Gutteral and throaty sounds that had no meaning but conveyed the heights of our feelings and our sensations and our desires. We both were panting and sobbing with the frustration of our needs and our wants. And I hated her for it. Hated her for having the power of being able to make me feel like this. For having the power to do this to me....
Angrily I rolled over and hungrily she reached up for me, her fingers digging into my shoulders as if afraid I might escape. She arched against me, searching seeking and I gave her what she was looking for....
Again and again I gave it to her. Hard and savage and vengeful. And her response only served to intensify my anger. For she loved it. Her twisting, writhing, tossing torso told me that. The deep gasp as she sucked for air told me that. The way her arms suddenly flung out from her body and her gingers taloned into the white sheets told me that. The turning from side to side of her head told me that. The constant sobbing plea for satisfaction told me that.
And because of all those things, my anger turned into hatred. I tried to punish her with my body. Slamming. Shoving. Sledge-hammering. Anything I could do to hurt her. And she loved every bit of it. The look on her face told me not to stop-to never stop-to go on and on and on ... to keep her there at the edge of the abyss for all eternity so that she could drink deeply of the ripping, tearing, biting satisfaction of the sensations that held her tightly together....
She fell over the edge of that abyss on her own accord. Struggling as if she had to before she succumbed to some unknown horror. I could feel her body suddenly stiffen and tense ... and then she seemed to shatter into a million tiny fragments....
Carefully I let her drift back down to the comfort of solidity. I didn't want to jar her ... to disturb her. I wanted to see that supreme look of complete bliss and completion on her face when she opened her eyes. I wanted to see it there because that was the look I wanted to remember her by....
Her eyes slowly fluttered and the look was there. I smiled down at her and waited for her reaction. It was her last chance for a reprieve....
"Man, oh man, you really are something," she whispered with a shake of her head. "Never had a man like you-who could-who could make me feel the things you made me feel!"
I tensed. Was she going to get her reprieve? So far she was going fine ... just fine....
But then she continued and my eyes squeezed closed in disappointment. "But next time, let me show you some things ... things that I know...." I didn't hear the rest because I didn't want to hear it. It didn't matter what the rest was ... she had just pulled the switch....
And what she didn't know was that there wasn't going to be a next time. Not with me. And not with anybody else....
I pulled away from her and eased myself to the edge of the bed. "What's the matter?" I heard her ask with a slight ride of panic in her voice.
"Nothing," I answered with a shake of my head. "But what time is it?"
I stared over my shoulder at her while she rolled over onto her stomach and reached for a small clock on the nightstand. "Almost seven," she called back to me. "Why? It's early yet ... we've got a long night ahead of us."
I shook my head. "Sorry ... just remembered that I've got an appointment to meet somebody at eight ... way on the other side of town."
She looked at me to see if I was telling the truth or not. "With-with a girl?" she finally asked.
"No, business. But.., " I paused as if seeking the nerve to continue.
"But what?" she asked hurriedly.
"Maybe-maybe I could come back later. That is, if you don't have another date or something." I tried to act like the shy high school kid and apparently it worked for she was laughing happily as she answered, 'No....I don't have any date. What time do you think you could make it back here?"
"About nine-nine: thirty," I answered quickly.
Sure, it would be good and dark by then. Dark enough so that nobody would see me on the roof of that building.
She nodded as if agreeing with herself. "That'll be just about right ... give me a chance to get some rest ... after what you did to me, I sure need it!"
We both laughed at that and then I pushed to my feet and went back into the living room and hall to retrieve my clothes. She seemed surprised when I returned fully dressed. "What's the matter, aren't you going to shower?"
I shook my head. "No ... don't have the time. Besides, I've got to go back to my own place and change ... I'll shower then."
It was only partly true ... I didn't want to shower because I didn't want to touch anything that might hold a fingerprint. But I did have to change. To the dark slacks and shirt I used when I was out hunting....
And tonight I would be hunting because tonight I had my target!
I knew she wanted to kiss me before I left but I also knew that I might throw up if our lips ever met again. So I brushed it off impatiently, pretending that I was too late as it was, and after promising t return as soon as I could, I slipped out of the apartment. I heard the door lock behind me and I had to lean against the will because I was trembling so badly. But not with fear....
With anticipation.
A little under two hours to go.
Quickly I padded down the backstairs, making certain not to be seen, and then hurried across the street to my parked car. I wanted a cigarette so bad that it hurt, but I couldn't afford to hang around the neighborhood and so as fast as I could I drove away. I didn't stop driving until I was at least ten miles away. Then, pulling into a drive in, I finally lit up. The girl came over and took my order, looking at me in surprise when I told her all I wanted was some hot coffee, and then I leaned back in the seat and smiled softly....
It was going to happen again. Damn it, it was going to happen again!
I wasn't scared. I never am. More like elation. And anticipation. Like getting ready to go to bed with some girl that you've been trying to make for as long as you can remember. And tonight was the night it was going to happen ... That's how I felt. Wonderful.
I drank the coffee when she brought it over and went over the details in my mind. It wasn't too complicated-it never is. The rifle, broken down, was safely stowed in a hidden compartment in the trunk. Al I had to do was to put it together when I got up on that roof. The rest? Just line up those crosshairs and squeeze that trigger....
All I had to do right now was to kill time. I laughed-that was a funny way of putting it ... kill time. Her name wasn't time ... it was ... was ... what was her name ... oh yeah ... Lynn....
It was dark when I eased to a parking spot at the end of the street. Sometime before, I had taken the case containing the rifle out of the trunk and had placed it on the front seat so now all I had to do was to get out of my car, make sure that no one spotted me, and then get up onto the roof. It was that simple ... sure that no one spotted me, and then get up onto the roof. It was that simple....
I walked into the building without seeing anybody. Good thing about television ... most people have it on so loud, they can't hear if anybody is walking past their door. I found the stairs to the roof easily enough and carefully pushed the metal fire door open. That was all I needed ... to have a pair of lovers up on that roof shacking up. Happened to me once before ... cost me a target, too. No sense in taking chances on being identified....
Luck was still with me. The roof was empty. Quickly I ducked to the parapet and peeked over. Her window was the one on the end. And a light beaconed to me out of the darkness like a signal. I eased my way along the wall until I was directly opposite the window ... vaguely I could sense the silhouette of a woman across the way. And I smiled....
The scope told me it was the right woman. I felt the flush of anger surge through me as I watched her through the scope. The nerve of her! She was still naked! Sprawled out on the same bed that we had used but a few hours before, the look on her face told me that she was reliving those moments of love-making!
Her fingers trailed across and over her coppery skin, tracing the uplift of her breasts-the rise of her belly-the curve of her hips and thighs. It was like-like she was going to make love all over again ... and without-without me ...!
I cursed as I edged the crosshairs lower. I didn't want to look at her face any more. I couldn't stand the expression of supreme satisfaction. Lower and lower it dropped, until it was centered directly above her left breast. I held my breath as my forefinger began to slowly squeeze the trigger....
Then I let up as she suddenly sat up, causing one of the bedposts to momentarily block out my target. I snapped the rifle up so that I could look at her face through the scope. And then I cursed....
I knew that look. I had seen it before. I had put it there. The look of supreme satisfaction. The look that said she was glad she was a woman because only a woman could feel the way she was feeling right at that moment....
My anger cracked with the realization that as soon as I squeezed that hair trigger, her look would change. I had seen it happen before. Usually it gives way to surprise. Then to hurt. And then pain. Shock. And finally nothing. Just a mask. A death mask....
I know....I had watched every one of them through the scope after pulling the trigger.
I could feel the sweat creeping down from my armpits and up from my legs toward my crotch.
It began to flow as she got up from the bed and disappeared from view. I knew she had gone into the bathroom because of the direction she had taken and though I could pick her off as she walked, I didn't want to do that. I wanted it to be on the bed. Just like with all the others. Poetic justice.
Time seemed to stand still until she returned ... each tiny second ticking its way like a knife into my consciousness ... making me alive with fear. Where was she? Why hadn't she come back? Maybe she hadn't gone into the bathroom ... maybe she had changed and was now in the living room ... maybe she was going out ...!
Almost with panic, I sat there, crouching behind the low wall. There was only one window from her apartment that faced me, so I had no way of knowing what she was up to. This hadn't happened before. It had always been so simple ... cut and dried. Just line them up and squeeze the trigger ... and then watch them die....
My whole being sagged as she came back into the room. She was still naked but I didn't see that ... I could only see a woman walking back and forth in front of me, obviously deciding what to do. She went to the tiny make-up table and began to do the things that women do with their bodies. The crosshairs wavered on the back of her neck while I debated. Should I do it now? Not take any chances on losing her? Or should I wait until she got back into the bed? But suppose she didn't go back to the bed....suppose....a million supposes quicksilvered through my mind and I steadied the tapering barrel on the brick of the wall in front of me....
Then she got up and went over to the bed.
I watched her get comfortable, patting the pillow she had slipped behind her back so that she was propped up. Then she took a magazine from the small night table and began to look at it.
I smiled. Even though the magazine hid her naked breasts, from the way she was sitting, all I had to do was to pump the slug right into the magazine and I'd be on target....
I sucked in a breath and slowly squeezed the trigger.
A spider web cracked its way across the window pane and then the magazine seemed to fly out of her hands. She looked down at her breasts-surprise on her face.
And then hurt.
And then pain.
And then horror.
And then death as she slowly seemed to sink down ... down ... down ... into the bed.
And through the scope, I smiled as the red fingers began to creep across the white, white sheet.....
CHAPTER TWO
"Mr. Caiden?"
I turned around in the swivel chair and looked at the fat man standing on the other side of my desk. Even though he didn't look like my type, anything beat staring out of a window and hoping something would develop. Who knows, maybe Fatso was the something I was hoping for....
"Yeah, I'm Mitch Caiden. How'd you get in here?"
He looked embarrassed. "There was no one in the outer office and the door was open," he answered meekly.
That was a laugh. With business the way it had been for the last two months, of course there wasn't anybody in the outer office. I had to let Margie go when I couldn't afford to pay her salary ... or the three weeks that I owed her. And the door was open because it was hot ... damned hot....
"Whatdya want?"
He swallowed nervously-like he was afraid to tell me what he wanted. Or maybe because he didn't really know. Or maybe it was because he was in the wrong office....
"You sure you want to see me?" I asked him while he wiped the sweat of his forehead. Me? Mitch Caiden?"
He nodded and managed a smile. "I-I think so," he stammered.
This was getting us nowhere. But fast.
"Whatdya wanna see me about ... business?"
It suddenly dawned on me that maybe I had a client ... or at least a prospective client. Things were so slow that I'd take anybody on right now. Anybody, that is, who could pay the tab....
I studied the fat man. He could pay the tab. Even though he looked like a wilted dish of butter, it was obvious the guy was flush. Well heeled. I could tell that from the white linen suit he was wearing ... that didn't come from any bargain basement. And the gold wristwatch. And the diamond ring on his fat finger. Yeah, whoever Fatso was, he had enough of the long green behind him to back his play ... whatever it might be....
"No, not about business," he finally answered and I let the disappointment show in my face. "About ... about ... my daughter."
"What about your daughter?" I asked carefully, wondering who he was talking about and lowering my voice.
He looked hopefully at a chair at the side of the desk and I nodded. Gratefully he draped himself into it, wheezing with the exertion. Then, hitching himself up on one side, he extracted a wallet from his rear pocket. Carefully he tugged out a photograph and handed it to me across the desk. I studied it. Young. Sensuous. Beautiful. Dark. Exciting. But the face didn't register.
"Is she your daughter?" I asked, handing him back the photograph. He put it back into the wallet like he was returning it to a shrine and then nodded. "Do you recognize her?" he asked hopefully.
Though there was something annoyingly familiar about her, I couldn't place her. I knew her but I didn't know her. Know what I mean? And so I shook my head. "Sorry , but I don't think so. Should I know her?"
The only reason I asked the question was because I knew how badly he wanted me to know her. Or of her. Ana maybe there was one other reason ... maybe I still smelt a client sitting there in that chair....
"Her name's Wendy....Wendy Solomon." He said the words like he was saying something sacred ... like it would be a sin to whisper the name out loud....
"Wendy Solomon," I mused to myself. Once again the mosquito of remembrance was buzzing annoyingly. There was something familiar about that name ... something I remembered from someplace. Then I had it....
Snapping my fingers, I reached for the newspaper on the edge of the desk. Quickly I folded it to the story that I had been reading earlier. The one about the blonde that had been bumped off last night by that crazy sniper. Somewhere in the story was a list of names of all of his victims along with their pictures. The fifth one on the list was a darkhaired, young, beautiful, sensuous and exciting girl. The name under the picture said Wendy Solomon....
I looked up from the story and back at the fat man. "And you're Mr. Solomon?" I asked slowly. "Wendy's father?"
"That's right."
There was nothing else to say. Besides, what can you say to a man whose daughter has been killed so uselessly and so wantonly? All the conversation in the world isn't going to bring her back to life. All the platitudes you can think of isn't going to take away one ounce of the hurt the fat man was feeling. No, there's nothing you can do except to sit facing him and hope that by your silence he understands that you understand.
Finally we were back to reality-away from the horrible memories that surrounded the snuffed out life of a young girl. "Just what makes you think I might know your daughter, Mr. Solomon?" I asked carefully.
"This," he answered equally as carefully and then pushed a small square card across the desk. I picked it up and looked at it. Then smiled. It didn't say much, just Mitch Caiden-Private Investigator.
"I was going through some of my daughter's things before-before storing them away-and I found your card in between the pages of a book she had been reading. Do you know how she got it?"
I looked at him before answering. He didn't seem so fat and helpless anymore. He seemed more like a man who had something on his mind and who wasn't going to stop until the questions were answered.
Then I shook my head. "Don't think so, Mr. Solomon. I'm positive that the only way I've seen your daughter is in the pages of a newspaper."
"Try," he then pleaded. "Maybe you met her someplace....at a party....anything might be a lead."
"A lead to what?" I asked suspiciously.
He leaned forward until his round face seemed to push toward mine. "A lead to the maniac who killed her." He said the words like he was reciting the Declaration of Independence ... like there was no doubt in his mind.
"Why don't you leave that to the police?" I asked, leaning back in my chair.
At the mention of the word, he snarled-like it was an obscenity. "Police! It's been almost a year since my Wendy's been killed and they aren't any closer to finding out who did it than they were the night she was killed. And the killer is still loose and still at work ... look at what he did last night ... that blonde girl. No, Mr. Caiden, I learned a long time ago that when you want something done, the best way is to do it yourself. And that's what I'm doing ... trying to find out who killed my daughter ... without any help from the police."
I studied him and there was no doubt as to his sincerity. And as I studied him, the angle hit me. It was a nice angle ... it would pay the tab for a long time to come....
"Look, Mr. Solomon," I began with pretended casualness, "I can understand your being upset by the apparent lack of success of our police force, but I hardly think you're the man to take over for them. You're just not qualified-you don't have the contacts."
"But I have the money!" he insisted loudly. Which is exactly what I hoped he would say.
"That's right," I agreed. "And with money you can buy someone who's qualified ... and who does have the contacts...."
Mr. Solomon wasn't stupid, he caught on immediately. "Meaning you," he said. "Meaning me," I agreed.
We sat back in our chairs and studied each other. He had the ball now, it was up to him to either carry it or punt....
He punted.
"I've checked you out, Mr. Caiden. You haven't been working much lately. How come?"
I shrugged. "I don't know the answer to that, Mr. Solomon. If I did I'd do something to change it Maybe it's because I'm too quick."
"Too quick?"
"Yeah-both with my fists and with a gun. I protect my client every way I can. Now, how about it-want me to find your killer for you?"
He leaned further back in the chair and continued to study me. "Answer some questions before I make up my mind," he finally said.
"Sure thing. Fire away."
"I still want to know if you knew my daughter or not."
I thought about the girl. Real hard. I even picked up the newspaper and looked at her picture again, hoping that maybe that would help me to remember her. Some doll. I'd have loved to have tied into her-she looked like she knew what it was all about. But guys like me just don't travel in the same class that girls like Wendy Solomon did. She wouldn't even look at me if we were in the same room. No, I didn't know her ... I was positive of that. Or almost positive....
"I'm sorry, Mr. Solomon, but I've never met your daughter. I'd remember if I had."
"Then how did your business card get into that book?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe she didn't put it there. Maybe she borrowed the book from somebody I do know-somebody who put the card there."
He shook his head. "I know my daughter-she doesn't borrow books."
I dug up another possibility. "Then maybe she asked one of her friends to tell her the name of a private investigator ... a friend who also knows me. Maybe that's how she got my card ... this friend gave it to her. Do you know of any reason why your daughter might possibly have wanted to hire a private investigator, Mr. Solomon?"
"No," he answered quickly. "Wendy was a little wild-used to get into trouble about it. But not that kind of trouble where she'd need a private detective."
I stood up and got myself a glass of water from the cooler. Still holding the paper cup, I returned to my desk. Where had the kid gotten my card? I was convinced that I didn't know her ... yet there was my card on the desk. How did she get a hold of it. Finally, after reseating myself, I gave up the mind search. "I'm sorry, Mr. Solomon, I don't know where Wendy got that card. Probably from one of her friends. If you'll give me a list of them, I can check it out."
He shook his head quickly. "No, I don't want anybody to know that I've put a private detective on this. I'm having a party next Saturday night-why don't you come? Just mosey around, get to know some of the people ... maybe you can pick up some information that way."
"Then I'm hired?" I held my breath while I waited for his answer.
"All right, Mr. Caiden-you're hired. Now, how much is it going to cost me?"
Once again I held my breath. "Five hundred a week plus expenses ... I'll be on it full time."
He looked at me sceptically and then, without another word, took out a checkbook. I watched him scrawl something and then hand the check to me. I put it in my pocket without looking at it-as if trying to make out that it didn't make much difference. Then he stood up and I followed suite....
"I want you to report every lead you dig up to me ... don't go to the police. And I'll see you next Saturday. And Mr. Caiden...."
"Yes," I answered quickly as he seemed to hesitate.
"Use some of that money to get a clean shirt. Maybe even a new suit." He looked me over disdainfully and then with a shrug of his shoulders that indicated he felt perhaps he was making a mistake, he turned and left theoffice. With a sigh, I sat back down behind the desk. Eagerly, I pulled out the check and looked at it. Two thousand dollars ... and advance for four weeks. Just like that.
"You'll get your money's worth, Mr. Solomon," I said to the closed door. "I'll find your killer for you."
Then, after one fast look around, I left the office. Mr. Solomon was right ... I did need a clean shirt and a new suit....
CHAPTER THREE
When I got back, the door was open.
Cagily I stepped inside, waiting to see what was up. I had been slugged too many times not to be suspicious. Balancing on the balls of my feet, I waited uneasily in the outer office, trying to figure out how to get into my private sanctum without tipping my hand....
"Come on in, Caiden," the deep voice called from behind my desk. "I've been waiting for you."
I stepped into my office and looked at the big man seated in my chair. He smiled easily, like he was used to having his own way. Then, magnanimously he waved me to the chair at the side of the desk. His eyes narrowed as he studied me while I seated myself. "Looks like you hit the jackpot, Caiden ... new suit ... new shoes ... and yesterday you couldn't even pay your phone bill."
"Hold it, Lieutenant ... no need to get personal. Let's just say I finally had a big hit on a horse and let it go at that."
He shook his large head. "No, Caiden, let's not let it go at that. Where'd you get the dough from ... Solomon?"
"That's none of your business."
"I'm mkaing it my business. Now where did you get the money from?"
I hesitated and he came around the desk too fast for a big man ... so fast that before I could move his large hand was grabbing a handful of my shirt and pulling me out of the chair. He started to draw a fist back and then, apparently thinking better of it, slowly let it fall to his side. He threw me back in the chair so that my teeth rattled with the impact....
Standing over me, he said the words like he was spitting them at me. "Look Caiden, I don't like you-I never have and as long as you operate the way you do, I never will. And if you get one inch over the line I'll have your operator's license revoked so fast you won't know what hit you. Now, I want some information from you. Are you going to behave and give it to me or do I have to use other methods to get it out of you?"
I couldn't understand why Lieutenant Sturgis was playing it so rough. What he had said was true-he didn't like me and he never would. The feeling was mutual. I had pulled some fast ones. Had done some things which the police department had frowned on. But nothing that would let them take my license away. So why was Sturgis so hot and bothered now? It didn't make sense....
With pretended casualness, I smoothed out the wrinkles of my shirt and tie. Then I managed a smile as I asked, "What's wrong, Lieutenant? What are you picking on me for? I haven't done anything."
"Not yet you haven't," he answered quickly, moving away from me and seating himself on the edge of my desk. "But you're going to work for Solomon, aren't you?"
I shrugged indifferently-like I wasn't agreeing or denying it.
The muscles in his cheeks clenched and unclenched at my response and I realized he was only a few seconds away from exploding. I didn't want to get caught up in that explosion, so I held up my hands to stop him. "Easy, Lieutenant ... just calm down and I'll tell you what you want to know. I've got nothing to hide."
He nodded his approval. "Good ... now, are you or aren't you working for Solomon?"
"I am."
"I thought so. On what?"
"On his daughter's death."
He cursed, using words that even I didn't know and I could see the disgust in his face. But there wasn't a law on the books that could stop private citizen from hiring a private detective. And it was then, as I sat there facing him, that something dawned on me. How come he knew what he knew? How come he was in my office just a few hours after Solomon had left? He saw the look on my face and must have known what I was thinking because he answered my questions without my having to answer them....
"Solomon's been causing the department a lot of trouble because he thinks we're not doing anything to find that sniper. Using his influence to have the mayor and the commissioner call us. He started doing some investigating on his own-loused up several of my leads-and that's when I decided to have him followed to keep tabs on him. One of my men trailed him to your office. It didn't take much to figure out what he was up to ... fed up with the police department, he was going to hire a private investigator to do his work for him. He picked you."
I could see Sturgis was sore and even though I didn't want to irritate him I still wasn't going to let him walk all over me. "A man's got a right to hire whomever he wants, Lieutenant."
"Not if it's going to interfere with police business, Caiden! And if you want my advice, you'll give him back his money and forget about the job."
"I'm not looking for your advice, Lieutenant," I answered with pretended casualness. "And from the way things are going on this case, I'd say you were the wrong person to be handing out advice about anything."
That was the wrong thing to say. I could tell that by the way his fists tightened and untightened. But I was sick and tired of being pushed around by Police Lieutenant Sam Sturgis. It had happened too many times over the past ten years and it would happen again ... if I let it.
"I'll have your license, Caiden," he snarled threateningly.
I shook my head. "No, you won't. I haven't done anything."
I had him there and he knew it. But he wasn't going to let me get off that easily. "Just don't get in my way, Caiden. And don't expect any cooperation from the police. And if you come up with anything, I want to know about it. Understand? If you don't let me in on everything you dig up, I'll have your badge for obstructing police work. And I'll make it stick!"
And he could. Police Lieutenant Sam Sturgis was a big man in official circles. If he wanted anything done, he'd get it ... and usually with no questions asked.
"I'll keep my nose clean, Lieutenant," I said softly, not wanting to antagonize him any more.
"You'd better. And next time you see Solomon, tell him I know what he's up to-and that I don't like it. I can't force him to fire you, but I can make him wish he had."
"Why don't you tell him that, Lieutenant?" I asked in a low voice.
"Because some one killed his daughter, that's why!" he shouted at me. "And when a man's lost his only child, you've got to overlook some of the thing's he's doing. I don't blame him for wanting to find the killer ... I just wished he had picked someone other than you to find him!"
"Do you know why he picked me?" I asked.
He shook his head savagely from side to side. "Damned if I can understand that. There's a hundred investigators in this town who are better than you. A man's entitled to spend his money however he wants. But if he had come to me I'd have steered him away from you...."
Then Lieutenant Sturgis didn't know about Wendy Solomon having my business card. He didn't know that was the reason that the fat man had come to my office. I debated within myself whether or not to tell him. Then I shook my head. No dice. I don't know why, but something about his attitude decided me against it. He wasn't going to share any information with me, so why should I share mine with him? Besides, it would be a nice feather in my cap if I could come up with the killer before he did. Might even set me up good and proper with the higher ups so that I could get Lieutenant Sam Sturgis off my back once and for all. No, if I knew something that he didn't, there was no way he could get it out of me ... , Getting up from the chair, I went to the door. "Is that all, Lieutenant?" I asked with an air of over-politeness.
He nibbled on a lip as he moved away from the desk and came to the door. He stopped just before leaving, studied me carefully, and then asked, "What kind of a car do you own, Caiden?"
I laughed and shook my head. "Sorry, Lieutenant, but you can't stick anything on me because of my owning a car. The finance company just repossessed it last week."
He nodded silently, as if I had just verified what he already knew. And then, with one last withering look, left the office. I waited until I heard the elevator open and close and then went back to my desk. Quickly rifling through its contents I saw that the Lieutenant had been there before me. But I had to laugh-all he had found were some unpaid bills. The laugh disappeared ... what was he up to? Sure, he had given me a hard time before, but this was different ... this was almost personal. Like he was out to get me for something. Like he wanted to nail my hide to the wall....
I scowled as I counted out the money that was left after buying the new clothes. "Don't cross me, Lieutenant," I said softly. "I've got a pigeon here....and I'm gonna pluck him before this is over. So don't get in my way ... just don't get in my way...!"
CHAPTER FOUR
I needed a woman. Not to kill, but to love.
I never wanted to kill ... they made me do it. It was their fault that they died. They deserved it. Trying to smother me. Trying to show me they were better than me. Using their bodies to drain my manhood. Making me feel like I was nothing ... just something they used to get their pleasure out of and then, when they no longer needed, they discarded.
But tonight I didn't want to kill.
I wanted to love.
To feel the warmth of somebody's flesh against mine. To touch the soft swell of her belly and to trace the hard rise of her breasts and nipples. Oh, how I needed someone ... so bad ... so bad ... so bad....
I waited until it was dark before I left my apartment. Better that way. Much better. I don't like to love in the daylight. Don't like to see their faces. Or have them see mine. Besides, what good is a face when all I needed was a body? Faces show feelings and emotions and responses. And I knew what would happen if I saw their face. It always happened. They were all the same; But I didn't want to kill. Not tonight. Not ever. None of them. They shouldn't have let me see their faces. They should have let me keep the room in the dark. Then it would have been all right. Then they would have still been alive ... , I left the apartment and went down the back stairs. Better that way-that nosey landlady always watched me go out when I left through the front. I didn't want her to watch me ... didn't want anybody to watch me. And I had the feeling that somebody had been watching me. Never say anybody though, just a feeling I had. But I guess it was my imagination. There was never anybody there....
But even so, I stole out through the back door ind made sure that nobody was following me as I hurried down the side street away from the boarding house where I had a room. I flagged a passing cab and had the driver backtrack several times in order to shake anybody that might have been following. Then I had him drop me off in the public garage where I stored my car....
A few minutes later I was coming off the freeway and touring streets that I had never even known existed before. The wail of a foghorn told me where I was ... down by the waterfront.
The damp night closed about me as I parked the car and got out. It was always this way at night down here ... whisps of fog and threads of moisture. Slowly I picked my way down the unfamiliar street and made my way to the neon light that flicked on and off like a firefly.
Nobody looked up as I entered the bar. I was glad, it gave me a chance to look around. It was quiet place. Mainly beer drinkers from the looks of things. That was good too ... I couldn't afford more than beer. The bar was filled with men discussing baseball and politics and since I wasn't interested in either, I took a seat at a small table facing the door. I had noticed the waitress when I came in, and I signalled to her with a nonchalant wave of my hand. But I wasn't nonchalant ... I was anything but that. I was scared ... tight and tense ... and the sweat was running down the small of my back. It was always like thi when I needed a woman....
"A bottle of beer, please," I said as she leaned over me. She nodded and went to the bar. A moment later she came back with the bottle and a glass. I watched her pour the amber fluid into the glass until it headed and then smiled at her. She nodded, took my dollar bill and made change I pushed a quarter at her and she smiled back to the bar and said something in the bartender. He turned to look at me and then asked her something. She nodded and then their heads bent together as they discussed me. I knew they were talking about me ... you can tell. And because I knew I shifted uneasily. I didn't want anybody to know me ... to pick me out. I just wanted to be a faceless nobody who had passed into and then out of their consciousness. No, this wasn't going to be the place. Not now....
Hurriedly I drank the beer and then pushed out of my seat. I was so anxious to leave that I didn't even see the girl until I pushed into her.
"Whoa there, Mister," she said laughingly. "Whoa there before you trample somebody!"
There was something gay and light about her voice. Something that said here was somebody who was in love with life. Who liked her kicks where she found them and wasn't too particular where that might be. I looked at her again just to make sure I was right. Then I sucked in a breath....
She was colored.
I had never seen a colored girl like this one. Light. Tawny. And a face that said one thing-sex. With pretended casualness, I let my eyes slide over her body. The body agreed with the face. I looked up when I heard the laugh....
"Like what you see, Mister?" she asked gaily. I had to laugh ... the look on her face told me she knew the answer. I guess it was the fact that I laughed that caused her to lock her arm in mine and swing down the street with me. I was right. "I need some laughs right now, Mister ... you act like you can give 'em to me."
I didn't say anything because I didn't know what to say. My mind was working too fast for me to speak. I had never been with a colored girl before. Oh, I had thought about it often enough, but I never had the nerve to find out. I could only imagine. Could only sense that what I had heard from other men was true ... you haven't loved until you've made it with a colored broad. Well, here was one and she was with me. Don't ask me how it happened ... it just did, that's all Like we both knew what the other wanted and we both were willing to share it. It was as simple as that....
I could feel the swell of her breast against my arm as she hugged it tight against her and all I could think of was how the rest of her would look with out any clothes. I could feel myself flush, as the image focused into my brain and though I didn't know where we were going, I wanted to get there as fast as possible....
The fog and the mist were gone as we hurried along and in the moonlight I could see her profile. Sharp. Almost animal-like in its intensity. And eager.
"You live around here, white boy?" she asked casually. "No. Do you?"
"Yeah. If you could call it that."
I didn't know what she meant so I let the remark pass. I still didn't know where we were going-I only knew I had to take her someplace. Anyplace where we could....
That bell-like laughter rang out as she stopped at a curb and turned to face me. Her eyes seemed to deepen as she studied me. She was still laughing as she said, "You can't wait, can you?"
I laughed back at her because of her honesty. "No," I said. "No, I can't wait."
"No sense in any preliminaries then, is there?"
"What kind of preliminaries?"
"You know-some booze ... maybe dance a little ... something to loosen us up."
"I don't need anything to loosen me up."
She laughed again and patted my cheek with her long fingers. "I can see that, Mister. So why waste money when you don't have to?"
I looked at her. This child ... this nymph-child. It was obvious that she knew of sexual pleasures, but I had been with girls like that before. But none of them had been as eager as this one. And as honest about it. No, she would live ... already I could sense the feeling going away ... the tenseness and the anticipation. She would live. And because she would live, I was glad....
Taking my hand in hers, she ran down the street. "C'mon, I don't live too far from here. Let's go."
I let her drag me, eager to absorb what was happening. It had never been like this before-so basically simple and yet so uncontaminated. The girl knew what was going to happen ... she couldn't help but know. And yet there wasn't any hesitancy, any false shyness. She wanted it to happen as badly as I did....
The room wasn't much. A dingy four walls that showed her futile attempts as trying to put some life into it. But the place was too old and too shabby to ever regain what it had once been. Now it was just a room where somebody stayed whenever they had no other place to stay. The girl, after letting me in, hurriedly went around picking up magazines, silk stockings, a bra, some empty plates, and whatever other debris she could conceal. Finally she turned and faced me. With arms outspread, she said, "It ain't much, Mister, but for what we have in mind we don't need much, do we?"
That laugh was back when she finished and once again I joined her. Then she was in my arms and our mouths were locking together. Her lips and tongue worked under mine and I responded immediately. She was aware of my response and laughingly, broke our kiss. "Whoa there, boy," she giggled. "Let's take our time about this. Let's get nice and comfortable and really enjoy ourselves."
I watched her undress in front of me.
She was as nonchalant about it as if I weren't even there. Stooping over, she picked up the bottom of her dress and tugged it up over her hips and buttocks. Then wiggling, she pulled it across her breasts and up to her neck. Free of her shoulders, she yanked the garment free and tossed it casually onto the sofa. I licked my lips as she stood there in her bra and panties. Her nut-brown skin seemed to gleam in the soft light of the room and, after kicking off her shoes, she thumbed her way free of the panties. Then came the bra, easily and quickly. Her tawny breasts tumbled free and seemed to uplift toward me invitingly. Now naked, she seemed happier. As if this was the way she was meant to be ... unencumbered by clothing.
Looking at me, seated on the sofa, she smiled and then went to the wall. A yank on some kind of gadget, and the Murphy bed came down with a swoosh. Eagerly she patted the mattress beside her. "Come on, boy," she said happily. "Time for fun and games!"
Her eagerness and openness made me comfortable. This was the way it was supposed to be The way I always dreamed it should be. And so quickly I undressed and crawled into the bed to her side.
We seemed to strain toward each other, and I thrilled to the touch of her tawny flesh against mine. It was happening. I was in bed with a colored girl. And she was as exciting and as sensuous as I had heard. Even more so.
Her hands seemed alive on my body as she touched and stroked and probed. And I responded in kind. Quickly my hands reached for her breasts and she rolled over onto her back to give me more freedom. It was like she was offering herself to me ... she was mine to enjoy, she seemed to be saying. Take whatever you want ... it's all yours....
I don't know how long we toyed with each other's bodies ... too long. I couldn't control myself, she had me so steamed up. No woman had ever worked me over like this girl ... it was like-like she had made a study of lovemaking and I was her post-graduate course.
There were no limits to her efforts to make me respond to what she was doing. My body seemed to crawl with each stroke-each caress-and though I wanted her to stop because of the agony of the ecstasy, I didn't want her to stop because of the intensity of the excitement. Because of the enjoyment of the wild sensations that seemed to tear at my nerve-endings.
And I was doing the same thing to her. I could tell from the sucking groans that escaped from her half-opened mouth. From the sweat that covered her body. From the way she kept twisting and turning under me as I played with her torso.
"Oh good ... good ... good," she kept moaning over and over again, her head whipping from side to side as my hands and my fingers sought new areas of flesh to enjoy. "Good ... so good!"
I don't know how long we kept at each other but we both seemed to realize that we couldn't go on like this much more. To do so would be insane. We needed mo re ... much more. We needed it all....
Her fingers were like claws in my shoulders as she pulled me to her. Then her buttocks were lifting and she seemed to be thrusting forward in a strained effort to reach me. Her legs captured me and locked me to her. Then we became one and everything I had ever thought about making love to a colored girl because true. She was fantastic ... wild and uninhibited. Gyrating and twisting under me so that the sensations became one ... the feelings become one ... the delights belonged to both of us....
It ended simulataneously for both of us. The way it should end. I collapsed across those lush breasts, thrilling to the feel of the wet body under me. Silently we lay like that, our arms around each other, our breathing deep and heavy. Finally normalcy returned and I sat up. A look of deep satisfaction bathed her face in a wide smile.
"Whew ... that was good, Mister ... real good."
I didn't say anything because there wasn't anything to say. I merely nodded and got up. My need was fulfilled. I had had my woman. And she had been some woman. Now I could leave. There was nothing to be gained by staying there. I knew that we could never repeat the heights we had reached. And rather than spoil it, I knew that now was the time to go. There was one other thing that made me want to leave then. I could leave without-without killing....
She watched me dress and I saw the. look of surprise in her face when she realized what I was doing. "How come you're leaving?" she asked with a slight ring of disappointment in her voice. "What's the matter, weren't you satisfied?"
I smiled as I shook my head. "Nope ... nothing at all like that. Just that it's time to go, that's all."
She sat up as she thought about it. It was obvious that though she didn't understand what I was talking about, if that was the way I wanted it that was okay with her. Then, with an innocent shrug of her brown shoulders, she said, "Just put the money on the dresser, Mister."
I stiffened as if stricken. Slowly I turned and looked at her from the door. "Money? What do you mean?"
Then she said the words that changed everything. "You didn't think it was for free, did you! Mister, that'll be the day when I start giving it away! Especially to a white man! Man, I'm in business ... I'm a hooker! I just gave you a fifty buck trick but since I enjoyed it too, I'll let you off cheap-whatdya say to ten bucks?"
The tramp! The cheap, rotten tramp! Trick me like that. Then use me. That's what she did ... use me. It didn't mean anything to her ... except money. She was lower than the lowest ... she didn't ... didn't ... didn't deserve to live....
She had drained me ... sapped me ... and then had the nerve to charge me! Me! Who had given her all I had to give. Me! Who had shared something with her that no other man had ever shared. And it hadn't meant a thing to her-nothing! Except money. And for that she would pay ... With her life.
I could feel the red surge flooding over my eyes as I moved back into the room. Feel wave after wave of anger flush over me as I came closer and closer. And then, without a word, I turned and wheeled out of the room. I could hear her call after me as I raced down the dark stairs of the boarding house and ran out into the street. I could hear her yell, but I didn't hear the words. How could I when there was only one thought in my mind ... one idea that blotted out everything else....
Get the rifle.
I fumbled the trunk open and pulled out the case. Quickly I put the rifle together, not caring whether anybody was watching or not. Then, when I was ready, I raced back up the street toward the rooming house. I guess luck was still with me, because the street was empty. That was all I needed, for someone to see me racing blindly across the sidewalk with that rifle. But nobody saw me ... not even as I ran up the stairs two at a time and then stopped, breathing heavily, outside her door....
I didn't bother to knock, just kicked the door open and took a step inside. She smiled when she saw me, half raising herself up in the bed. Her hair was still wild from the exertions of a short while ago and her bronze flesh still gleamed with the sweat of passion. Then the smile disappeared and was replaced by a look of terror as she saw me lift the rifle....
She held up her hands in front of her as if hoping to ward off the shot and I laughed hysterically as I pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times. Her mouth opened wider and she shook her head as if in disbelief at what was happening. Then she looked down at the tiny red rivulets creeping through her fingers and dropping onto the white sheets. She started to say something, but the words choked off in her throat as she suddenly slumped forward....
I stood there in the doorway looking at her, the beautiful body now stained with crimson. Then, as I heard the sounds of doors opening and voices yelling, I suddenly remembered where I was and what I was doing. Blindly I raced back down the stairs. Somebody behind me yelled for me to stop and then I was out in the street. Reality came back to me as the night air hit me. I had to get away ... to get out of there before somebody recognized me. I had been a fool to change my method ... should have gone up on a rooftop and picked her off. But she had gotten me sp mad that I had forgotten everything except that I had to kill her. I had to make her pay. And I had made her pay....
I threw the rifle on the floor in the back and tore life into the engine with a savage twist of the ignition key. There was a screech of rubber on concrete as I pulled away from the curb and then I was careening around a corner and heading toward the freeway. I slowed down at the sight of a police car coming in the opposite direction, its siren screaming and its red eye whirling. But they didn't stop me. They had more important business up the street. They had a body to investigate. A murder....
I lit a cigarette as I casually slowed down. The smoke felt good in my lungs as I pulled onto the freeway. Looking in the rear view mirror to see if I was being followed, I happened to get a glimpse of my face. The smile was deep with satisfaction. I threw a mock salute at myself and headed back into the city....
CHAPTER FIVE
"Well, Mr. Caiden, just what have you found out?"
I eased back in the deep chair, my fingers lacing around the tall glass of scotch and looked at the fat man. We were in his study and the flickering light from the fireplace illumined the room with wavering shadows. But even so it was the kind of a room that said money. The paneled walls were of mahogony and the rich deep carpet softened all sound. The furniture was luxuriously comfortable ... yeah, a man could relax in a room like this....
"Come on, Mr. Caiden-I want to know what you've found out since last week," he repeated insistently.
I sighed as I reached into my inside jacket pocket for the small notebook. I didn't know if I ad come up with anything new , but at least by telling him all I had found out it would seem as if I had been working....
And so, thumbing through the pages, I began to read....
"The killings started a little over a year ago and until the other night, they all followed the same pattern. The maniac, obviously using a high-powered sniper's rifle, took a position on a rooftop across the street from his victim and, when they were in bed apparently getting ready to go to sleep, he would let them have it. He's killed eleven times like that. A single shot in the heart. But the other night, he changed his method. Nobody knows why, but he fired at the girl three times from close range-obviously he was in the room when she died. One person got a look at him but unfortunately there was no light in the hallway and the killer was going down the stairs so identification was impossible...."
"I know all that," Solomon interrupted, annoyance obvious in his voice. "I could have found all that out from reading the newspapers."
I went on as if he hadn't interrupted. "There has been no tie-in between any of the girls-except that they've all been young, and beautiful, and pretty well-off, except for the last one-she was a prostitute. The killer, whoever he is, didn't know any of them before the night he killed them...."
His head snapped up at that. "What makes you say that?" he asked quickly.
I shrugged. "The police have investigated every one of their friends and there's been no way of linking any of them to the murder. So it had to be a stranger to the girls ... someone they had just met. Probably that very night."
"I don't remember reading that in any newspaper," he said carefully.
I smiled at him and tapped my forehead. "Simple deduction, Mr. Solomon. That's the only way it could have been done. No clues. No identifiable fingerprints. And all that any witness has ever been able to say is that they remember some mysterious stranger being with the girl ... someone they had never seen her with before. Most of them don't even remember a stranger. So it had to be somebody they had just met...."
I let him digest the information, feeling more sure of myself now that I had given him something to think about. If nothing else, at least it showed him that I was earning my money....
"And what's more," I went on, ready to hit him with the clincher, "I'm willing to bet that everyone of those girls made ... made love with the man before he killed her!"
I sat back, a wide satisfied smile on my face as I saw his surprised reaction. Then the surprise turned to disgust and I knew what he was thinking. His Wendy making love with a man. A man she had just met a few hours before. A man who had then killed her from a rooftop across the street.
"How do you know that?" he said in a harsh voice.
"Facts, Mr. Solomon. You can't hide from the facts." I ticked them off on my fingertips. "One. The man was a stranger-somebody each girl had just met. Two. They had to get into the apartment to know exactly where it was in relation to the rooftop across the street. Three. There was only one way of doing that-the girl had to invite them in. Four. And why would a girl invite a stranger into her apartment-a man she had just met? Because they were going to bed with each other, that's why!"
He got up from the chair he had been sitting in and began to pace back and forth in front of me. I could see the wheels working as he thought about it. Suddenly he stopped and whirled toward me. "Do you mean to tell me that some maniac picked up my Wendy-went with her to her apartment where they-where they made love ... then left and killed her from a rooftop across the street?"
I nodded slowly. "That's the way it figures, Mr. Solomon. I know it sounds crazy, but it has to be like that."
He shook his fat head from side to side as if unable to accept what I had told him. "The man's sick ... crazy," he muttered, more to himself than to me. "He's got to do something like that. Imagine, picking up a strange girl ... going home with her ... making love ... and then killing her. It's-it's sickening!"
I nodded in agreement. It was sickening. The whole idea of some guy running around loose picking up women, making love to them ... and then knocking them off. But who knows what goes on inside somebody else's head? Who knows what makes us the way we are?
"Then why didn't he kill the-the prostitute the same way?" Solomon asked. "What made him change his method of operation?"
I had thought about that as soon as I had read it in the newspaper. "Maybe it wasn't the same guy." I volunteered.
He shrugged. "Maybe. But it sure sounds like him, doesn't it? Only something happened that made him come back to her room instead of picking her off from a rooftop."
"Maybe it was the fact that she was a hooker. Maybe he didn't know what she was when he picked her up ... maybe when he found out, it was too much for him. He had to get her and he wanted her to know that he was the one."
"But why should he do that?" the fat man questioned, reseating himself opposite me.
"I don't know-how can I know what goes on inside a nut's head? But the way I see it, I figure he's killing because he's getting even ... it doesn't make any difference if the girl knows it or not. But this hooker put something over on him ... and he had to let her know that he was paying her back. Make sense?"
Solomon worried over my theory and then hunched his wide shoulders. "As good a theory as any, I guess," he finally answered. "But so what? How is that gonna help us catch him?"
"I don't know-that's not my department, Mr. Solomon. You only hired me to find things out. Remember? Not to catch a killer. That's the police department's job. Let them find him. Me? I'll just dig for more information."
He nodded reluctantly-like he knew I was right but didn't like it. "Speaking of information, have you found out, how come Wendy had your card?"
I shook my head. "Haven't had time yet. But as soon as we're finished in here, I'll go out and mingle with some of your guests."
He had invited me out to his house early and so even though the party was going on, I still hadn't had a chance to mingle. As soon as I had pulled up in the cab he had pulled me into the den and had pumped me for information. Now that the session was over, I could start operating....
As I stood up to leave the door to the den opened and Police Lieutenant Sam Sturgis walked into the den. I looked at him and then at Solomon. What was going on here?
But Sturgis wasn't interested in me-only in the man who had hired me.
"Look, Mr. Solomon," he said as he advanced into the room, "What did I tell you about interfering in police matters?"
Solomon looked at me and then at Sturgis. There was an oily smile on his face as he spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "There's no law that says I can't spend my money hiring a private investigator, Lieutenant."
"Maybe there isn't, but there is a law that says we can stop anybody from interfering with our doing our job."
"What do you mean by that?" I questioned, not sure of what he was talking about.
"Come off it, Caiden," Sturgis said, turning to face me. "You showed up in that prostitute's apartment not fifteen minutes after the word was out that she had been shot."
"I did!" I said incredulously, looking at him to see if he was kidding me or not. "I don't remember anything like that."
"Well, you were there. One of my boys spotted you snooping around."
Was he kidding me? I didn't remember that. But as I stood there in front of me, I couldn't let him know that. I had to go along with the gag-when I was alone, I could figure it out. Maybe I had gone down to the apartment and had forgotten about it. But right now, I had to play it straight ... besides, it made me look good with Solomon. Showed him I was really on the job ... might even enable me to hit him up for some more dough....
And so I smiled a knowing smile and pretended a look of innocence. "I think you've got the wrong boy, Lieutenant. But it's a free country, isn't it? That means I can go anyplace I want to go."
"Not during a police investigation." he snapped at me. Then he turned to Solomon and directed his next remark at the nervous fat man. "I warned you about hiring somebody to look into this, Mr. Solomon. And since it's your money that's paying his way, I'm telling this to you....keep him out of my hair or it'll be you that'll end up in trouble!"
He didn't wait for Solomon's response, but suddenly turned on his heel and strode briskly out of the room, slamming the door behind him. As his footsteps faded, Solomon turned of me and said, "Why didn't you tell me you had gone down to the girl's apartment, Caiden? Are you trying to hide something from me?"
I smiled what I hoped was a knowing smile as I answered. "No sense in telling you everything, Mr. Solomon. You don't care how I get my information, just so that I get it. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll join the others at your party. Maybe by the time the night's over, I'll know how Wendy got ahold of one of my cards."
He started to say something, thought better of it, then leaned back in the chair while I left the room. I was glad to be alone. Something didn't make sense and I had to Figure it out. How could Sturgis have said what he did? I hadn't gone down to the girl's apartment. Yet the police lieutenant didn't make mistakes like that. They probably saw somebody who looked like me ... sure, that was it. Then, because they knew I was working on the case, they automatically assumed it was me and told Sturgis. Yet, it should have been easy to check out ... all they had to do was to find out where I had been that night. Funny that they hadn't asked me that. Yet, as I walked down the long hall toward the sounds of the party, I tried to remember exactly where I had been that night. What had I been doing? Who had I been with? Who was my alibi? I rubbed my forehead as if trying to push my memory back into focus. But it just wouldn't come. Something stood in its way ... I just couldn't remember....
"Oh well," I mused aloud as I walked into the large room filled with people, "I'll remember. Sure. Just gotta get by myself for a while and it'll all come back to me." Then, leaning against the door, I studied the people and forgot about it. I had more important things to think about. Things like trying to find out who in this room knew me. Who is this had given one of my cards to Wendy Solomon just before she was killed....
"Mitch! Mitch Caiden! Oh, it's good to see you again."
I turned and looked at the small girl in the low cut dress who was standing by my elbow. She smiled an inviting smile and then reached up and kissed me on the cheek like I was a long, lost friend. And I swear that I had never seen her before....
CHAPTER SIX
I looked down at her, smiled, and shook my head. "Sorry, you've got me at a disadvantage. Though it's obvious that you know me, I've never seen you before."
She pretended a pout and nursed a drink. Then she looked up at me with her deep brown eyes and whispered, "You mean I didn't even make that much of an impression on you, Mitch? That doesn't do anything to help a girl's ego."
I looked at her again, studying her carefully. It was obvious that she thought she knew me. But it was just as obvious that I didn't remember her. And so, just to make sure, I studied her again....
Small, but not short-small. Petite-small, like a little doll. A tiny round face, punctuated by those big brown eyes. Dark hair framed her features and was accentuated by the deep red of her lush lips. She was wearing a low cut white dress made of some kind of clingy material ... the kind that told you just what was inside. And brother, what was inside, was delightful. Her breasts, though small, were perfectly shaped and the cup of her bra uplifted them in a taunting gesture. Her hips were full and her buttocks were rounded and tight in the gown. Even if I didn't remember her, there was a lot of girl here....
"Are you sure?" she said, still pretending to pout.
I thought about it as I looked at her. "Where was it?" I finally asked. "Where did we meet?"
"At a party ... oh, two-three months ago."
"I go to a lot of parties ... be more specific. I don't think I'd forget a girl like you."
"It was at some yacht club ... I don't know who gave it ... I sort of crashed it with some other girls. Now do you remember?"
"Yacht club?" Memory dawned and I smiled a broad smile because of it. "Sure ... at the Owens' christening of their new boat. But I don't remember you."
Once again she pouted. Then she laughed. "Let's say that you were hardly in any condition to remember anybody. Maybe you don't recall, but you were really stoned that night."
That's right ... I was stoned. Blind. I don't know why, but I had decided to really tie one on that night and I had succeeded. The three day hangover was proof of that. Maybe she was right ... maybe I did meet her that night. It was possible. And yet, I should have remembered....
"What did we do?" I asked, grabbing a drink from the tray of a waiter circling the room.
"That's what really hurts ... you not remembering me, I mean...."
She paused, gave me a look with bowed head, and then buried her face in her glass. And I understood. A man shouldn't forget a girl that he's made love with. And that's what she was saying ... that we had made love after that party. And yet for the life of me I didn't have the faintest idea of who she was....
"I'm sorry," I stammered, not really knowing what else to say. "But-but I don't even know your name."
"Jill," she answered in a hurt tone. "Does that ring a bell?"
Jill. I said it softly to myself as if tasting it. Then I had to shake my head again. I didn't remember any girl named Jill. Especially one that looked like this.
She saw the look of doubt on my face and shrugged and started to walk away. "Well, no sense in hanging around a man who doesn't remember. So long, Mitch." And with that, she turned and began to elbow her way through the crowd in front of us.
I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back to my side. "Don't leave so fast, Jill," I said quickly. "Just because I don't remember you doesn't mean that we shouldn't get to know each other."
She shrugged with her lips. "I thought we tried that once."
"Where?"
"In your apartment."
I looked at her as if she were stupid. "You mean I took you to my apartment?"
"That's right," she answered with a smile. "Want me to prove it?"
"Prove it," I dared, still not believing her.
"You've got a one bedroom place somewhere on the East side of town ... I don't remember the street. When you walk in there's a painting ... in blue, .-.of a nude on a beach ... over the mantel there's a collection of miniatures ... pistols, I think. And in the bedroom ... want me to go on?"
Meekly I nodded.
"You've got a kingsized bed ... a large mirror facing it ... and a lot of small paintings on the opposite wall of women ... all kinds of women. Now do you want me to tell you what's in your bathroom?"
I shook my head. It was obvious that she had been there. But I still couldn't get over the fact that I didn't remember her. And yet, she had told me enough to prove that she had been there. And she had been in my bedroom....
She seemed to read my thoughts. "That's right, Mitch ... we made love. Want me to tell you about it? All those little details that you showed me...."
I looked at her, not believing what she was saying. I had made love to this girl and I couldn't remember it! At that moment I took a vow never to get that drunk again....
"But I remember," she whispered in a sultry voice. "Oh, how I remember ... I've spent months trying to forget. Even called you a couple of weeks ago ... but your telephone was disconnected."
She was right. It had been disconnected. But that didn't seem important no ... all that seemed to matter was what she was saying. That she had been trying to find me. And for one reason ... because of the night we had spent together. A night I didn't even remember....
I took the empty glass out of her hand and put it on a small table against the wall. "Let's get out of here," I whispered. "Let's see if we can bring back my memory."
She laughed at the innuendo and then, to my disappointment, shook her head. "Not now. Maybe later. But I just got here and I promised Mr. Solomon I'd stay for a while."
"You know Solomon?" I asked carefully.
She nodded nonchalantly. "He's my boss."
"Your boss?"
"That's right ... I work for him. One of his many secretaries. I came out here last night with some papers that had to be signed and he insisted that I come to this affair tonight. And when your boss insists, you do what he wants. Remember, I'm a working girl and jobs like this one are hard to come by."
"So you can't leave now?"
She shook her head and the dark hair bounced around her face like soft waves spinning up on a beach.
"How about later?"
She pointed a finger under her chin and thought about it. Then she shrugged. "I don't know, Mitch. It doesn't say much for anything between us when you can't even remember the night we spent together."
Damn it, she was right. But now that she was pulling away, I didn't want her to leave. Maybe 'cause there's something intriguing about a girl you don't remember making love with. Maybe 'cause you want to try again just to see what it would be like....
"C'mon," I pleaded. "Give me a break. You said we really hit it off the last time. Just imagine how it can be if I'm sober and know what I'm doing."
Her smile was almost lewd and as if to emphasize it she deliberately licked her lush lips with the tip of her pink tongue. I could feel the desire within me suddenly come to life. A few more tricks like that and I'd take her right on the floor in front of everybody!
She knew she had me going. I could tell that from the dancing laughter in her eyes. And once again she shook her head. "Can't tell you yet, Mitch. Maybe I will and maybe I won't. Why don't you ask me a little later in the evening? But remember ... please stay away from the booze."
And with that, and a wave of her fingers, she was gone. I watched her knife her way through the crowd until she came face to face with a tall TV-commercial type guy. She stopped in front of him, lilted up her face for him to kiss her on the lips, and then let him take her by the arm into the room where couples were dancing. By standing on my tiptoes, I could watch the top of that dark hair until it disappeared from sight. With a sigh I finished the rest of my drink and turned to find a refill....
"I overheard what Jill said, Mitch ... about your drinking too much," Solomon said with a smile.
I looked at him and shook my head. "Can't understand it. She says she knows me and yet I don't remember her."
"She said she knows you?" There was a ring of panic in his voice as he asked the question.
"That's right, Mr. Solomon ... says we met at a party a couple of months ago."
"Then maybe she knows how Wendy got your card. She knew my Wendy ... they were petty good friends."
"That's right," I answered eagerly. "She said she worked for you ... they would have met in your office."
"Oh, I'm sure that's where they met ... I've seen them together ... even knew they went out to lunch once in a while when Wendy was in town. I'm positive she's the one who knows how Wendy got your card ... she's got to be. Talk to her. Find out what she knows. This might be the lead we've been waiting for!"
Though I could sense the excitement in his voice I had to pour cold water on his hopes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Solomon, but it might not be that easy. For ... for personal reasons Jill isn't so sure that she wwnts to see me again ... and I can't blame her."
He looked at me and I watched him nervously chew on his hp. It was then that I thought of a way. Maybe she wouldn't like it, but at that moment I could care less what she liked. Once got her to my apartment, I'd give her plenty of what she liked ...!
"Why don't you fix it up for me, Mr. Solomon?" I asked carefully, not wanting to upset him
"Fix what up for you?" he asked eagerly.
"Tell her to go out with me after the party's over. Tell her I'm an important client or something like that."
He liked the idea ... I could tell that from the way his eyes widened. Then, as if to accentuate his mood, he slammed a pudgy fist into his fat hand. "Sure ... that'll do it. Besides, she works for me ... if I tell her to do something for me, she'll do it and with no questions asked. I'll take care of it. You just be sure to pick her up at the end of the party ... I'll make certain she leaves with you."
I smiled at his wide back as he disappeared into the throng and started looking for Jill. Yeah, it paid to know the right people. Sure, Mr. Fat Man, I'll find out just what the connection between your daughter and your secretary was. But in my own time. First I had some remembering to catch up on. And I understand that the best way of doing that is to put yourself back in the same situation....
All I could think of as I moved slowly around the room watching the party-people was whether or not I had changed the sheets on that king-sized bed....
CHAPTER SEVEN
Solomon was as good as his word; Jill was waiting for me by the exit. I could tell from the look on her face that though she didn't like what I had done, she was in no position to do anything about it.
"What'sa matter," she slurred from too much alcohol, "can't you fight your own battles?"
I made a distasteful face because of the smell of booze on her breath as I took her by the elbow and steered her out into the night. "Meaning?" I asked as I signalled to a cab in the front of the line of cabs.
"Meaning that you didn't have to have my boss say that it was a good idea that I leave with you. I probably would have gone with you anyway."
We got into the cab and I gave him my address. It wasn't until we were leaning back against the cushions, each of us on either side, that I answered. "I wasn't so sure that that's the way it would have been, Jill ... not after the things you hinted at."
She turned and looked at me-blinking that non-seeing blink that drunks use to clear their vision. "What are you talking about?"
"Meaning that I'm not so sure that what you said was true."
"I still don't get you."
"About you and me."
She thought about it and then laughed a harsh laugh. "You mean about making it in your apartment, don't you?"
I nodded slowly and buried my face in the cup of my hand as I lit a cigarette. I could sense that she was watching me and I didn't look up until I had shaken the match out. "That's right."
"Why should I tell you a thing like that if it wasn't true?"
"That's what I'm trying to find out."
"And how do you plan to go about that? How do you find out whether I was telling you the truth or not?"
"By taking you to my apartment. To bed."
She snickered a laugh. "And that'll prove I was telling the truth? I still don't get you."
I shrugged and aimed a ladder of smoke at the back of the cab driver's neck. "Well, let's say it might help make me believe your story."
"How?"
"I've never met a girl who would shack up with a man she never knew ... hadn't met. Maybe you would, but I doubt it. But if you go through with it, I'm more prone to believe you-to think you were telling me the truth about the other time."
I could seek the flicker of hatred blur across her eyes. "Just like that, huh? If I do, I'm a tramp and if I don't, I'm a liar!"
She was right, but I didn't care. I was putting the screws to her ... but that wasn't what I was after. I kept remembering the deep cleavage of her breasts as she stood at my elbow. Then I carefully put my hand on her nylon-clad knee. And squeezed. "Let's say there's more to it than just that ... let's say there's a lot more than that."
"Like what?" she asked scornfully ... but she didn't take my hand from her knee.
"Like maybe we've got something going between us and we're both afraid to find out. You said you couldn't forget me ... looked for me. Maybe you want me as bad as I want you."
"Sex rears its ugly head," she snickered. And this time she removed my hand. Definitely and firmly.
"What's wrong with that? A man and a woman. If they fit ... great. If it doesn't work out ... so what? Nothing ventured, nothing gained."
She shook her head. "If you hadn't sicked Mr. Solomon on me I might have agreed with you. I'm a lusty girl-I dig sex. But not when it's a question of being forced into it."
I leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Pull over to the curb," I said as he looked at me in the rear view mirror. He shrugged and did as he was told. I opened the door and got out. "Take the lady wherever she wants to go," I told him. Then, leaning into the cab, I said to her, "maybe I'll see you around ... my phone's been reconnected." Without waiting for her answer, I slammed the door and began to walk down the sidewalk. I heard the car start up and watched it as it passed me. I shrugged as it turned the corner in front of me and then angrily thumb-fired the cigarette out into the street....
"What did you do that for?" I asked myself. "Trying to be a hero or something. You know you're a bum, so why kid yourself by doing something chivalrous? And you know you wanted to make it with that broad, so why send her home?" I couldn't answer the questions. It wasn't that I was falling for her ... I had gotten over the stage a long time ago. The girl I would fall for just didn't exist. She was some idol I had made up and goddesses like her weren't around anymore. No, though I liked women, it was strictly for laughs. For what we could get out of each other ... good times ... laughs ... some sex ... nothing serious ... and when it was over, when we were both bored, or when someone new and more interesting came along, then it would be all over. And with no hard feelings. That's how I felt about women. Nothing more and nothing less. And that's the way I had run my life....
I suppose that's the reason I had gotten out of the cab. This one spelled trouble. Oh, from the looks of that body, she probably would have been fantastic in the sack. At least she looked like she would have. But there was something to provocative about her. Like she was hiding something from me. Like she was up to something ... something more than what I was willing to offer. No, this was the kind of a girl who, when she found the man she was looking for, pulled out all the stops until she had him....
I didn't care if there was a connection between her and my card being in Wendy Solomon's book. I'd think up some story to tell the fat man about that so he'd forget it. But, as I walked up the steps to my apartment, I felt only one thing ... forget this kid. Stay away and I'd stay out of trouble....
I heard the sound of breathing as I closed the door behind me. And I froze. You know how it is ... you can't see anything, yet you know somebody's in the room. Well, somebody was in my living room. Waiting....
I stayed against the wall holding my breath so as to make as little sound as possible. And I waited. That was the best way. Let whoever it was make the first move. Quietly, my fingers closed around a metal bookcase as I poised on the balls of my feet and waited....
"Oh come off it, Mitch," a voice said from the deep chair as the table lamp went on. "Stop acting like you're on television."
It was Jill.
She leaned around the edge of the chair and smiled at me. It was a warm smile and my fingers relaxed. I pushed away from the wall and went to her. "What are you doing here?" I asked, looking down at her from in front of the chair. "And how did you get in?"
The smile was almost pixie-like. "Let's say landlords can't resist on innocent lost cousin," she giggled. I nodded at that, knowing my landlord. All a girl had to do was look at him and he was panting. "But that doesn't answer what you're doing here. I thought you had enough of me."
"So did I," she said carefully. "But I'm not used to a man walking out on me like you did."
"So?"
"So maybe I had you pegged all wrong."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning maybe you didn't put Mr. Solomon up to doing what he did ... maybe it was his idea."
I didn't answer. Let her think what she wanted to think. The silence spread between us like thick peanut butter ... each of us mired in it so that neither one of us could take the first step. Then she sighed and tucked her legs up under her thighs. I caught a glimpse of white flesh and pink nylon and I felt the clutch at my guts. Tiny dots of perspiration perioded themselves across my forehead. And she saw them....
"What's the matter, Mitch, am I making you nervous?"
I still didn't answer. Damn her ... damn her female bitchness. She was using it now ... using it good and I was responding. Using it in the languid way she curled up in the chair. In the half-opened red lips. In the way she leaned forward so that once again I caught a glimpse of the bulge of her breasts. Oh, this one was no fool ... she knew what she was up to ... she knew what she was doing. She was a master at it ... and I couldn't help but respond....
Finally, her arms lifted up toward me. As if in a prayer....
I could still taste and smell the booze on her breath as our mouths seared together. But I didn't care. I didn't care about anything but the feel of her body pressed against mine. The female-smell of her in my nostrils. The taste of her lips. And the promise of what was going to happen in my imagination....
My hands reached into her dress and slid under the bra that covered her breasts. I felt the hard flesh in my palms and squeezed. She tore her face away from mine and her head fell back on her shoulders as she let herself succumb to the pleasures that were being born. My fingers on her nipples nursed the pleasure into greater intensity and in answer she sucked her breath and began to sway toward me. Then, deliberately, I pulled my hands free of her body and stood up....
She looked up at me, her face flushed from what had just happened. "Drink. I need a drink, Mitch," she said in a hoarse, low voice.
Without a word, I wheeled and went into the kitchen. I took the bottle down from the shelf, made a bucket of ice, grabbed two glasses and went back into the living room. She sat as before on the deep chair, as if I had never left her. I put the makings down on a table at the side of the chair and she watched me the way a hungry animal watches its dinner being prepared. She grabbed at the glass when I held it out to her, drinking deeply. I sipped at my own while I watched her finish the first glass, shrugging when she held it out for a refill. "Make it yourself," I said cruelly. "I'm not your maid."
I wondered, while she was putting the drink together, why I was so belligerent. She hadn't done anything to me. Not really. A few pinpricks in my pride and that was all. So why was I acting like this? She gulped half the glass .down and I got up and went over to her. She resisted as I took the glass from her fingers, but not so much that I couldn't do it. Then once again she was in my arms and our mouths were annealed together.
I sensed the heat of passion rising within us and my hands, in response, began to roam over her body. Our lips never parted while I undressed her. It was hard, finding zippers and buttons. Tugging and pulling. Unfastening and unhooking. And through it all, she kept moving-lifting a leg ... raising an arm ... doing all those things that were necessary for me to take off her clothes.
I stood up and stared down at her nakedness. She seemed like a cat, slinky and sensuous, as she looked up at me from the depths of the chair. Her lithe legs were sprawled over one arm, adding more curves and arcs to the lines of her torso. Her breasts were full and rounded and I longed to reach down and touch them to see if they were real ... but they were real all right, I knew that from before. Her belly had a tight flatness to it and I watched entranced at the small pulse of rise-and-fall as she breathed. She was sex personified ... and she knew it. And so did I.
I wanted her and I would take her and what happened after that didn't matter. All that mattered was that I know her intimately ... each movement, each sound, each nuance of her femininity.
"Why don't you go and get comfortable," she whispered up at me in a sultry voice. "Make it easier that way. The last time I was here, I had to undress you ... that sort of made it lose its charm."
I flushed because of the words and without a backward glance went into the bedroom. I undressed quickly and then, as if punishing her by making her wait, I lit a cigarette and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sure, make her wait ... get all her hot and bothered before going back to her." I murmured.
I don't know why I felt that way ... maybe it was because I knew I was in some kind of struggle with her. A struggle I sensed I was losing. It was obvious that I wanted her more than she wanted me ... that I needed her more than she needed me. And I had never felt that way over any woman. And I didn't like it.
I thought about what had happened the last time she was here. Wondering, as I turned and looked at the kingsized bed over my shoulder, just how she had managed to get me undressed and to bed. Well, it wasn't going to happen tonight. No, she would share this bed with me ... for as long as she was able to. I knew what I wanted to do to her. I knew how much I wanted to show her what I was capable of. I found myself wondering about the other men in her life-the ones before me. Wondering how good they had been ... if I would match their abilities. If I could make her beg for me to stop when she was overfilling with desire and passion. If I could reach that point with her where her body was no longer capable of another touch ... another caress ... where passion and pleasure became pain and ache. Yes, that's what I wanted to do to her ... that's what I wanted to make her feel. I sensed that in the tenseness of my own body. In the quickness of myself to respond to my own thoughts....
I don't know how long I sat there like that, smoking that cigarette and thinking those thoughts. But finally I knew that it was time to go back into the living room. Finally I knew it was time to take that body ... her naked flesh ... and make it mind....
I walked through the door, moving softly so as not to disturb her mood, and came up behind the chair. Reaching over the back, I casually let my hand come to rest on her breasts. Slowly, seductively, I let my fingers crawl across the flesh. I smiled as she whimpered and then I stiffened as the words cross-hatched out of her mouth....
"N-No ... not now ... don't feel like it ... now."
I looked down and saw the empty liquor bottle on the floor in front of her. Her movements, as she tried to make herself comfortable in the chair, seemed to be disjointed-disconnected-like she was no longer capable of controlling them. She opened one eye and smiled up at me. A vacant smile. Like it was an effort to focus. "Hi," she said with a weak wave of her fingers. Her voice sounded like there was gravel in her throat. "You sure serve good booze, mister." Then she laughed. And the eye closed. And the fingers froze. And then she passed out, her head falling limply forward....
I looked down at her, no longer aware of the sensuality of her nakedness. A surge of anger and of frustration welled up inside me and I wanted to reach down and slap her back into awakedness. I even raised my hand, but something stopped me. And I smiled down at her and nodded my head....
"Okay, turn about is fair play. I got drunk on you once, now I guess it's your turn. I won't touch you-not tonight. No, when we make it, I want you to know everything that's happening to you ... want you to feel everything I do to you."
Coming around to the front of the chair, I scooped her up in my arms and carried her toward the bedroom. I was aware of her nakedness as she snuggled closer to me. My hands cupped one bare breast and the other pinched in at her buttocks. And as I carried her, the aroma of her filled me with desire. Oh, how I wanted her. Like I had never wanted a woman before. Like this was going to be the first time and the last time and all the 'times in between. By the time I dumped her down onto the bed, I wanted her so badly that the fact that I couldn't have her served to make me angry....
I stood there at the side of the bed, my fists clenching and unclenching at my side as I looked at her. Even in the too-limpness of her body brought on by too much alcohol she was seductive. Her body cried out to me ... touch me ... feel me ... caress me ... arouse me. And though I wanted to, I couldn't force myself. Not after what she had told me about the last time we had been together.
I just couldn't do it. And so, carefully pulling the blanket up to her chin to cover her nakedness, I left her alone....
But I couldn't stay in the apartment with her. Not knowing she was in my bed. Naked. Not knowing how much I wanted her. Needed her. No, I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it because I knew that if I stayed there, I would have her. In a drunken stupor or not. That's how badly I wanted her....
After taking a cold shower, I dressed quickly. It didn't matter that it was almost four in the morning, I had to get out of that apartment. Had to before I did something I didn't want to do. I placated myself with the thought that there would be another time ... this wasn't the end. Someday ... and soon ... this girl would share my bed. And she would be awake ... and alive ... and responsive....
I drew a deep breath as I went out into the early night-dawn air. It s coolness hit me and I felt the tension leave my body. I didn't know where I was going or what I was going to do, I only knew that I had to get away from my own apartment.
And so I started walking. Fast. And as I walked I kept seeing that naked body in my bed. The taunting breasts. The curve of her buttocks.
The invitation of her hips and thighs. And I kept shaking my head to erase the image. And saying over and over again to myself, as I hurried along, "don't be there when I get back ... please don't be there when I get back ... I don't know what I'll do to you if you're still there when I get back....!"
CHAPTER EIGHT
I sat behind them on the bus and though I tried not to overhear their conversation, it was impossible not to hear the words. And when the words were smothered, their facial expressions spoke for them.
They were young. In their early 20s. And they had just returned from a party on the other side of town. From what they were saying, I guessed it was one of those wild Hollywood things ... you know, with no holds barred. And though the girl had been impressed by what she had seen, she hadn't bought any of it. Yes, she said to the guy, I know what was going on in those bedrooms ... I'm not stupid, you know. Or blind. But if you think that's going to change anything between you and me, you're crazy....
I could see her profile from my seat and I hated her. I knew the type. Got her kicks vicariously from what other people did. Loved to read the scandal magazines that told about the bed hopping of Big Names. And I bet there were times when she closed her eyes and imagined herself in one of those beds. But do it with her boyfriend? Not on your life! Not until that ring was safely on her third finger, left hand. That's what she was holding out to him. That was the bait. And for whatever his reason, he was buying it.
Oh, he was pitching a good case there on that seat in front of me. First playing on her sympathies about how long they had been going together and how he had respected her wishes ... things like that. But when it didn't work he tried another tact ... lie became sullen and distant. Told her of all the women he could have had ... but had turned down because of his faithfulness to her. Told her that men were different than women ... they needed it even when a woman couldn't understand. But that didn't seem to work either. So he tried logic ... like what difference did it make, they were going to be married in a few months anyway. And maybe they had better try it just to see if they were compatible. But none of it worked. I could tell from her expression that nothing he could say or do would make her change her mind.
She had made him angry though, she sensed that. And because she did-and because she was afraid of losing him-she knew that she had to do something. I watched her scrunch closer to him, so that their shoulders were nudging against each other and then I saw her drop the newspaper across their laps. I knew what was going to happen next and because I knew I felt sick to my stomach. Like I wanted to throw up. Sure enough, her hand crawled under the newspaper and from the tightening of the muscles on the back of his neck, I knew what she was doing to him....
"Like that?" she whispered hoarsely to him and he nodded his head in quick agreement. "Do more," he pleaded, and by moving in my seat I could watch his profile ... could see the way he nibbled on his lower lip as the pincers of pleasure began to take hold of him.
Nervously she looked around to see if anybody was watching her. Turning partially in my direction, she caught my eye. I guess it was my look that made her lower her face and scrunch lower on the seat. "I-I can't ... not here," she whispered to him, slowly taking her hand out from under the newspaper.
"Why not?" he asked desperately.
"Somebody-somebody might see us."
"What are you going to do? You can't leave me like this!" The desperation rose an octave higher in his throat and I saw a shiver of excitement spasm itself across his shoulders. Poor guy. I bled for him ... oh, how I bled for him and for what he was letting her do to him....
"We're almost home," she whispered. "I'll finish then."
His nod was a movement of gratitude and he settled back lower in the seat so that his knees were pushing against the seat in front. I leaned against the window, pretending to look out into the night. But all the time watching them. In the tinted glass, I could see the expression on her face as she stared straight ahead. She didn't want to do what she had promised, but she didn't know any way out. But there was no question in my mind that if she could think of any way of not having to do it, she would take it....
I watched her reach up and pull the cord that told the driver somebody wanted to get off. As the bus slowed, they got out of their seat and slowly made their way to the front exit. I sat up straight watching them and then suddenly ... I don't know why ... I got up and got off the bus at the exit door in the middle. I stood there on the sidewalk while the bus moved away and wondered if they had seen me. They were walking rapidly away from the bus stop and it was obvious that their only thoughts were of what was going to happen next....
Quickly I followed them, keeping in the shadows and letting the sound of their steps be my beacon. They turned the corner and crossed the street. I waited until they were lost in the shadows and then did as they had done. I was about three houses behind them when they turned up a walk and went onto the porch of a large frame house.
I stopped under the big maple tree until the squeaking sound of a porch swing creaked in the darkness, and then, cutting across two lawns, I came to the side of the house. Voices to my left told me where they were and cautiously I crept closer to the porch. Bushes and the white slats kept me hidden from them and I sank down lower, waiting to see what they would do....
It was quiet after a while and timidly I raised my head and peeked up on to the porch. They were sprawled out on the swing, their legs entwined and their bodies pressed together as their mouths pressed hard against each other. Finally they drew apart and I could hear their deep breathing. They seemed silhouetted there and I wondered how long-it would take before the boy lost all control. It didn't take long....
But she slapped his hand away as he touched the front of her sweater. "No!" she whispered hoarsely so as not to awaken anyone in the house, "I told you not to do that."
"But gee," he answered sullenly, "after the way you just kissed me I didn't figure you wanted me to stop!"
Couldn't the fool see what she was doing to him? Could he see how she was leading him on ... working him up so that he would soon lose all power over himself? Then, when she knew he was ready, she would complete her mastery over him. Would sap him of his masculinity. Couldn't he see that? I wanted to yell out to him ... to tell him to slap her down ... to rip her clothes from her and take her right there. It was probably what she needed ... what she wanted. But no, he wouldn't do anything like that. He would do ex-acdy what he was doing and because of it, another man would become a victim of the black widow spiderhood of a worn an ... sucked and drained dry. And then discarded when she no longer had any use for him. When another male appear-'ed on the scene.
I know, because that's what happened to me.
He leaned back on the sofa, and though I couldn't see his face, I knew what his expression would be like. Sullen. And disappointed. But behind the grey mask of his eyes there would be the anticipation that all was not lost. At least she wasn't going to leave him like this....
And she didn't. She leaned forward and kissed him full on the lips. I could tell from the way her head was moving slowly from side to side and from the muffled sounds, what she was doing with her lips and her tongue. And, when she pulled away from him, his soft moan of desire told me I was right....
And then, even though I couldn't see it, I sensed her hands moving lower and lower. His head began to twist slowly from side to side. Guttaral noises of pleasure because of the sensations, issued from his mouth and though his hands must have ached for the feel of her breasts, somehow he kept them stiff and still at his side.
From the quickness of her movements and of his response, it was obvious that she had done this to him many times before. She knew exactly what to do to bring him to the heights of pleasure and when he was there she knew what she had to do to throw him over into the abyss of completion.
The sound was like a long hiss as his breath let out. I saw his whole body shudder there in the darkness and then a deep sigh seemed to shake him. And I knew it was over.
The moon came out then, bathing her face in an eerie silvery light. And I shivered at what I saw. Not pleasure because she had satisfied her man. Not satisfaction because she had taken care of him. But evil. Power. She had just forged one more link in the chain that was tying him closer and closer to her. One more nail in the coffin of his need for her. Soon he would be hers. The vampire would be satisfied. For she would have drained him of his virility. Of his manhood.
I had to stop her. Just like I had stopped all the others. Somebody had to stop her. Somebody had to stop them. Somebody had to smash diem and destory them. To squash them before they took over the world. To kill them.
I watched the boy leave a while later, still hidden behind the shrubbery and bushes. The porch light went on when he walked her to the door and then, after he had walked down the path that lead back to the sidewalk, she went inside and the light went out. A few moments later, a light went on in a room at the corner of the house on the second floor. Quietly, I eased out from my hiding place and walked across the street. From my position, I could see up into the window. Maybe it was deliberate-I don't know-but she didn't pull the blinds as she undressed. It was like she wanted the whole world to see her. Like she was showing off that which she had denied to her boyfriend. I stood there, under the large tree, hidden by its shadows, and watched her strip herself....
When she was naked, she turned and it was obvious she was looking at herself in a mirror. Deliberately, she ran her hands up under her breasts, lifting them up and out so that they seemed to project from her upper torso. Then she I turned so that she could see her profile. And though I couldn't see that far, I could sense the expression on her face. The look of satisfaction and of satiation.
A look that a sniper's bullet would smash and obliterate.
CHAPTER NINE
The old man ambled over and looked at me seated behind the wheel. "What makes you say that, Mister? You know nobody's allowed in the customer's cars."
I turned and inspected the interior. It wasn't anything I could put my finger on, but it felt different, that's all. You know how it is with your car ... you seem to be able to sense when somebody else has been in it.
"Well, what makes you say somebody's been using your car, mister?" he repeated belligerently.
"I didn't say anybody's been using it ... I just asked if somebody was in it, that's all."
A guilty expression smudged across his mouth.
"Who!" I demanded. "Who's been in my car?"
He scuffed one foot against the other before answering. Then he lifted his face and I could see the defeat there. "Me," he answered slowly. "Sometimes early in the morning when there ain't much business, I kind of curl up and listen to a radio. It gets kinda lonely down here with no one to talk to. Guess it was me that was using your car."
I looked at him, wanting to smash at his face. Then the age and the defeat and the nothingness of his life broke into my anger and shattered it. "That's all right, old man," I said placatingly. "Just don't run the battery down, that's all."
He smiled at the reprieve and then shuffled back to his worn desk at the entrance to the garage. I waved to him as I pulled out of the stall and he waved back. I was whistling as I pulled out into the thin night traffic and headed uptown.
It was nine o'clock. Not too late and not too early. She'd be home now ... getting into her pajamas. Then she'd watch television for a while. And then to bed.
To die.
I knew all about her. I had been following her for a week. Checking up on her. Watching her. Getting to know her. She worked as a dentist's receptionist downtown. Her name was Margie. She was twenty-one and she was going to be married in six weeks. Her routine was always the same. Go to work ... come home ... eat dinner ... talk with her folks for a while ... then go upstairs and bathe. Then into her pajamas and back downstairs for an hour or so of television before going to bed. It was the same routine day in and day out. Except on weekends when she'd see her boyfriend. And even those two days were the same. On Friday night they'd park up on Lover's Lane for a session of petting. Nothing serious, mind you ... just all the preliminaries that a boy and a girl can go through without either one of them reaching fulfillment. On Saturday it was either a dance or a party-something like that. And another necking session on the front porch. Sunday was a little different ... first a dinner, then a movie, and then, because he'd gotten so worked up the days before, another period of trying to convince her that what he wanted wasn't wrong-that she should want what he wanted. But he never convinced her ... and it always ended the same way. With her taking care of him ... either on the swing ... or in his father's car if he could borrow it. But that's all that ever happened to them. Nothing big. Nothing exciting. I guess the only thing he really had to look forward to was his wedding night ... she couldn't very well refuse him then. Or could she? You never knew with a broad like this one....
Only there wasn't going to be a wedding night. He never was going to know her intimately. I was going to see to that.
Tonight.
I kept checking in my rear vision mirror to see if anybody was following me. Maybe I was getting nervous, I don't know ... but I've had the damndest feeling that someone has been following me. Watching me. There! That dark blue sedan. Wasn't that the same car that picked me up when I left the garage? I couldn't be sure ... there are so many dark blue sedans. But no sense in taking chances. Not now....
I slowed down at the traffic light, then just as it turned red, I goosed the engine, sending me through the intersection. Looking back, I could see that the sedan had been caught by the light and I smiled to myself. Smart ... real smart. I didn't know if anybody was after me, but they'd have one hell of a time catching me if they were.
I took the corner on two wheels, straightened out and ripped down the side street. At the next corner, I doubled back, finally ducking into a small alley that was hidden from the street. Crouching low in the front seat, I watched the passing traffic for a while. No blue sedan. Nobody looking for me. Just nerves, I guess. Needed something to calm me ... something to make me less nervous. Not a cigarette ... not a drink ... nothing like that. Something more substantial ... something I could really hold on to....
Smiling, I got out of the car and lifted up the trunk. I picked up the case and carrying it tenderly in my arms, brought it back to the front seat. I felt better as I put the rifle back together. So long ... so lean ... shiny ... efficient. The cold steel of the barrel felt comforting against my cheek and I could feel myself relax. That's what I needed ... the only thing that could make me feel secure....
Putting it on the floor, I carefully edged back out of the alley and out into the street. I drove slowly so as not to arouse any suspicion, my car being just one of hundreds of cars on die street. As I drove East I occassionally glanced in the rear vision mirror. But nobody was following me ... and so I felt safe again. And secure. Just to make sure I kept one foot on the stock of the rifle; its contour and its hardness adding to my confidence ... Then I was there.
The residential street was dark and quiet. My car seemed to be just a shadow under the tree as I came to a stop. I waited, sitting silently in the front seat while I watched her house. The luminous hands on my wristwatch said nine-thirty. And as they inched toward the quarter hour slash, I could feel the tension beginning to build within me....
There! The light in the bedroom. I looked at my watch. Right on schedule. Quietly I opened the front door, hesitating while I looked up and down the street. Deserted. I inched the door closed and, cradling the rifle in my arms, scurried across the lawn, using bushes and tree trunks to cover my movements. Then I was there....
I could see her silhouette moving back and forth in front of the open window and I wonder-ed why she had decided to pull down the shade. She had never done that before. I shrugged, chalking it up to a woman's inconsistancy. Then, slowly and carefully, I climbed the tree. I was heading for a fork or two large branches, shaped so that one would support my feet while the other held my back and shoulders. It took me about ten minutes to reach the fork and another five minutes to make myself ready. Then I looked at the still-lighted window....
The shade was still down but she was constantly being silhoutted by the light behind her. From watching her for the past seven days, I knew exactly what she was wearing. A shorty nightgown. You know the kind, theone that drapes down to a point above a woman's thighs. Last night she had been wearing a lime-colored garment and I wondered if she had changed. I don't like green ... reminds me of grass. I don't like grass ... I like sidewalks ... cities.
I froze when the shade suddenly shot up and she looked out into the night. She was looking directly at me and I held my breath, wondering if the outfit I had picked would camoflogue me against the leaves and branches. Apparently it did, for she turned and began to look up and down the street. Her expression turned my blood to ice ... you'd have thought it was her street, her world. She was still wearing the same shorty gown and as she leaned forward, her elbows dug into the window sill, I could see the cleavage of her breasts under the garment. She took a few deep drags of the night air, smiled, and then moved away from the window. I lost her from my view, but that didn't matter ... the bed with right in line with my vantage point and sooner or later she had to come back to that bed.
I crouched there, feeling the beginnings of cramps in my legs from standing too long in one position. Then I brought the rifle up to my shoulder and sighted into the room. I didn't need the scope ... I wasn't that far away. So carefully and slowly, I unscrewed it and slipped it into my back pocket.
And then I waited.
And as I waited I could feel the tension begin to build within me. No, it wasn't a tension, it was more like a passion. That's what I had always felt before and I had never realized it. Passion. This was almost the same as making love to them. This was even better. This was all for me. I owned them. Controlled them. Did things to them while they were unable to fight back. They couldn't touch me. Couldn't make me feel. Couldn't arouse me. All they could do was endure what I would do to them. It was better that way ... much better. It was more final.
For after it was done, they could never do anything to another man.
She came back into my view and I sucked in a breath and held it while I watched her. I don't know why, but suddenly she reached down and grabbed the bottom of the garment and then pulled it up over her shoulders and head. She was naked. Her flesh seemed so white ... like it had been in water for too long. She studied herself and from the expression on her face I knew she liked what she saw. Then, for whatever her reason, she began to pirouette about the room with her arms extended straight out from her shoulders. Occassionally she'd disappear from my view and I'd hold my breath until she returned. Finally, panting heavily, she came back to the window and leaned out. She leaned forward as far as she could and I cursed her for it. It was like she wanted the whole world to see her nakedness. To see her breasts and arms and shoulders. It was like she was looking for some man to appear on the street so that she could call to him to look at her. To see her. I knew what she wanted ... to tease ... to flaunt ... and then to take away. She was evil.
And for that she would die.
She turned around, looking over her shoulder as someone called to her from within the room. I watched her mouth move in response and wondered what she was saying. But whatever it was it wasn't important enough for her to move away from the window. Or to make her put her nightgown back on.
Jezebel!
She leaned even further out the window, staring down at the dark ground. Her arms and crisscrossed over her breasts and she hugged them tightly to her as if by so doing she was squeezing pleasure out of them. She seemed to be moving up and down on her knees and I couldn't figure out what she was doing until I saw the tense look come into her face. Then it hit me ... she was doing the same thing to herself that she had done to her boyfriend!
Tramp!
Rotten, no good tramp!
Afraid, but curious. Wanting to but not having the guts to go through with it. Willing to vicariously substitute and yet unwilling to submit. To share with the man who loved her.
Anger exclamation pointed perspiration across my forehead and I rubbed it away from my eyes as I sighted down the length of the barrel. She was close now ... I could see that in the taut expression on her face ... in the grim line of her lips ... in the way she sucked in a breath. So close. So near. Soon it would happen to her ... soon ... soon ... soon....
My arm positioned and the rifle became a part of me. It was like an extension of my being. Her round tight face sat on the edge of the tiny lip of metal at the end of the barrel and just as she closed her eyes I squeezed the trigger.
Her mouth opened in a small circle, duplicating the one that suddenly bloomed in the middle of her forehead. It was like she had suddenly been hit by a brick wall, suspending her animation in mid-motion. She tried to scream but it died in her throat. Then, she fell forward across the window-sill, her fingers clawing at the wood for support. I could hear the thump of her body as she fell back into the room....
And it was then that the passion drained out of me. I felt limp and spent and I don't know how I got out of that tree. I only remember being on the ground and running ... running ... running ... as the lights in the house behind me suddenly winked on from room to room. Behind me, I could hear screams ... a door opening and somebody yelling ... footsteps running. But it was all too hazy to remember coherently ... there were no details, no sharp imprints of image ... just a hazy blur of action and sound. I only knew they were after me....
The car lurched down the street ... moaning and groaning because of the way I was handling it. Tires screeched around a corner and then around another corner. A moment later I was back on the main cross street, losing yourself in traffic. I slowed down, merely going through the motions of handling the car. I wasn't driving it, I was handling it by instinct. I remember somebody honking at me as I made a right turn in front of them ... a screech of brakes ... and, as I pulled onto the freeway ramp, I heard the wail of a siren. I seemed to sink lower in the front seat, as if afraid of being seen, and somehow I was on the freeway, edging the car into the second lane. The lights of the city beckoned to me and, trance-like, I drove toward them....
It was done.
And as I lost myself in traffic, reality slowly returned. The hazy indifference of nothingness gradually washed away. I remembered. And, because I remembered, I felt good. Clean. Washed.
I felt as if I had just made love to a woman. You know the feeling ... satisfied ... complete. Tired, but not exhausted. Yeah, it was a good feeling.
Like a man should feel when he's finished with a woman. Not the conquered but the conqueror. Not like he submitted but like he had taken. Not defeated, but victorious....
Somewhere behind me another siren cried in the night. But its tears weren't for me. They were for the lifeless naked form of a girl who would never suck a man of his manliness again....
And I was glad.
CHAPTER TEN
"Mitch? Is that you, Mitch?"
I tensed as I recognized the voice on the phone. It was Jill. Strained and worried, but still Jill.
"Yeah, this is Mitch ... whatdya want?"
"I-I want to apologize," she said softly.
I was holding the phone so tightly that my knuckles were white. I hadn't expected her to call ... not after what she had pulled.
"Go ahead ... apologize," I answered brusquely. The anger was obvious in my tone.
"Not over the phone, Mitch. Can't I see you.. meet your someplace?"
I shook my head while answering. "No deal Jill. First you pass out on me. I put you to bee in my apartment and when I get back you're gone. A few days later you call and make a date with me. And then, at the last minute, you break it. You call again ... arrange to meet me ... only you never showed up. I'm a big boy, Jill ... don't have to put up with crap like that from a girl. So no deal. You got anything to say to the, you say it over the phone."
There was a long pause while she hesitated Everything I had said had been true and there was no apology in the world that would change it.
"Why-why don't you come over to my place now, Mitch?" she finally asked in a small, hesitant voice ... it was almost as if she were afraid o my answer.
"What for?" I snarled. "So you can make a fool of me again ... so you won't be there!"
I was mad and everything I was saying show ed it. But I didn't care. I had written her of my list and it would take a lot of doing to put her back on.
"No, Mitch, I promise. I'll be here. Waiting. I promise."
I snickered a laugh. "I'd like to believe you, baby, but you're just not reaching me."
"Mitch, please come over. I-I want you to come over."
"Why?"
"Because-because I've got a lot to make up to you.
"And exactly how do you plan to do that?"
"The-the only way I know how. I haven't changed, Mitch. I-I still can't stop thinking about you ... w-wanting you."
The sincerity in her voice brought me up short. Maybe it was because I felt the same way. I still wanted her. still couldn't stop thinking about how it would be between us.
"You're not putting me on, are you?" I asked sarcastically.
"No!" She seemed to scream the word into my ear. "Those other times were a mistake ... I couldn't help what happened. I know you don't believe me, but I just couldn't help myself.
Maybe she was telling the truth. I wanted to believe that. Oh, how I wanted to believe that.
After the third time, I had promised myself that it would be the last time. I wouldn't give her another chance to make a fool of me. But that didn't stop me from wanting her. From remembering her mouth agains mine ... the feel of her naked body in my arms. The memory of what she looked like in my bed. The image of what the two of us would be like. No, you can't erase thoughts ike that. You can try to scrub them out of your mind but die image is still there. Imprinted like in concrete....
"Are you home now?" I asked carefully, looking at my watch. It was a little after eight.
"Yes, I've been home all night."
"And you're sure you'll be there if I come over? You're not just trying to play me for a sucker?"
"No! Believe me, Mitch, I want you to come over. Would I call you if I didn't? Please say you'll come. Please." She was pleading with me and the knowledge of it did something for my ego. I could picture her curled up in a chair talking to me on die phone, her face pinched with what she was saying to me.
"And if I come over...."
"If you come over," she interrupted, "you won't regret it. I'll make sure of that. Come over, Mitch, and I'll make it all up to you. Please."
I took pleasure in drawing it out ... knowing that she was suffering while I did it. But finally I drawled it out. "Okay ... I'll be over in about an hour. Okay?"
"That'll be fine, Mitch," she answered quickly and I imagined I could hear the sigh of relief in her voice. 'That'll be just fine."
I dropped the phone back into the cradle and went into the bedroom to change. Though I didn't want to go over to her apartment, I knew that I couldn't stay away. That's how badly I wanted her ... needed her. Somehow I knew that with her it would be different. You know how it is, deep down in our minds we all have an image-a fantasy-dream-of what sex should and could be. Well, instinctively I sensed that with this girl my dream would be a reality. And that's the only reason I had decided to go. After what she had pulled in the last couple of weeks, I should have kissed her off and let it go at that. But I couldn't ... the image kept getting in my way. Even though I hated her for it, I had to swallow my pride in order to find out if what I had imagined was really true....
I was whistling as I went down the stairs and out into the night. I flagged a passing taxi and watched him pull over to the curb. Giving him Jill's address, I leaned back against the cushions and contemplated what it would be like. I had made up my mind there would be no preliminaries this time. No cocktails and small talk while we debated within ourselves how to go about getting into the bedroom. My mind was made up. As soon as she opened that door for me, the first act would begin. I didn't care what she said or how she reacted ... but as soon as that door was open she was going to be in my arms. My mouth would be on hers. My hands would crush against those firm lush breasts. I couldn't imagine what she might be wearing-probably a housecoat of some kind, but before that front door was closed whatever she was wearing would be stripped from her body. Let her scream ... let her protest ... she'd be too busy to do it for long....
I wanted her in her bedroom. Not in the living room. Not on a sofa. But in her bedroom. I like a girl's boudoir. Soft and smelly and lacey. Yeah ... she was going to get it right in her own bed. She was going to get it good. So good that she'd never forget Mitch Caiden....
I nodded, as if in agreement with myself, as the hackie pulled to the curb in front of her apartment. I over-tipped him, but I didn't care. I felt good ... real good. Like tonight was my night. I looked at my watch as I bounded up the stairs ... exactly an hour since she had called. Even my timing was right. No, this was going to be it ... everything was going to be okay ... just fine....
I heard muffled sounds as I knocked on her door and smiled to myself as I imagined her scurrying around trying to put some semblance of order to the place. She didn't have to do that ... who had time to inspect anything anyway? Then there was a long pause and I cocked my head to one side questioningly. Why didn't she answer the door? Once again I knocked ... louder and more insistently this time.
"Just a minute ... be right with you," I heard her call and, while I waited, I nervously shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Then ... silence....
I knocked again, beating my fist against the door. This time I didn't stop. I wasn't about to stop until she let me in.
"That you, Mitch?" she called.
"Who do you think it is ... the milkman?" I hollered loud enough to cause one of her neighbors to open his door and stare at me. I stared back and sullenly he closed the door. "Come on, open up! What's going on in there?"
Suddenly her door opened and I pushed past her and went into the apartment. She stayed put by the door and I turned to face her. She was wearing a housecoat all right ... but there was one thing wrong with it. It was unzipped. Not because of me, but because I hadn't given her time to complete the job. Her face told me the rest. The heated flush of passion stood out like a red light across her cheeks and mouth. Her curls were plastered to her forehead, adhered there by perspiration. And if I needed any other evidence of what I was thinking, it was there in the look on her face. A woman only looks like that at one time ... when she's been making love....
I heard the noise in the bedroom and even though she protested, I pushed hard against the door, shoving it open.
He was still in her bed. Smiling. Smoking nonchalantly, the sheet pulled up to his neck. I started to go for him and then thought better of it. It wasn't his fault ... he was just doing what I wanted to do. It was her fault. I turned and looked at her. I could see the pleasure she was getting out of my suffering. Could tell it by the faint whisp of a smile on those lush lips ... could tell it by the way she deliberately thrust her body forward so that more of her naked breasts peeked at me. Could tell it by the deliberate way she licked her lips with the tip of her tongue. Oh, she was enjoying it all right ... the way a woman enjoys torturing a man.
I looked from one to the other, not knowing what to say. She cringed against the wall as I walked toward her. But she wasn't afraid of me ... I had to give her credit for that. She wasn't afraid of me. And because she wasn't afraid, I didn't hit her. There would have been no satisfaction in that. No, I didn't want to hit her. I wanted much more revenge than to smash my fists into her face. Much more.
I wanted to kill her.
I knew that as I pushed past her, knocking her sprawling as I went out of the bedroom. "Wait, Mitch," she called after me, "let me explain."
But she was out of explanations now. I couldn't figure her out. She knew I was coming over and yet there she was. making love to another man. It didn't make sense. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered anymore. Except one thing.
That I pay her back.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The taxi dropped me off in front of the garage and I threw some money at him as I raced the driveway into the subterranean parking area. The old man looked up at me as I ran by him, waved, and then returned to the girlie magazine he was reading. I got into my car, slamming the door behind me, and sat behind the wheel while the engine warmed up....
"Damn her ... damn her," I kept muttering to myself, my head resting on my arms on the steering wheel. "She can't get away with it ... I won't let her get away with it!"
Foot heavy on the accelerator, I raced the engine in my impatience to get out of the garage. Finally I was ready, and carefully backed the sedan out of its stall. I went up the ramp that led to the street and left-turned into the traffic. I didn't even see the cars around me ... my mind was so filled with what had happened.
Who did she think she was ... making a date with me and then having another man in the apartment when I showed up? Another man that she obviously had been making love with! What kind of a game was she playing? This was the fourth time she had pulled something like that. I had taken it as long as I could, and now it had snapped. Now there wouldn't be any next time....
My anger slipped away as I thought about what I was going to do. Cold calculating logic had to control me ... Not anger. Otherwise it would be too dangerous. Too much of a chance for a slipup. I had gotten away with it so far because I had been smart ... hadn't left any clues ... any telltale sign that could point to me. And I couldn't afford to change that pattern now. So, as I drove slowly toward Jill's apartment, I began to gather my senses. It would be pretty simple ... just like the others. There was an apartment facing hers from across the street ... all I had to do was to get on that roof, find the window of Jill's apartment ... and then let her have it....
Yeah, that's how simple it was. Sure, I'd probably be brought in for questioning ... they always questioned anyone who knew the murdered person. But that wouldn't be too hard to cover ... obviously lots of men knew Jill. Too many. And besides, Solomon would cover for me....he would be the one who had really introduced us. No, they wouldn't be able to pin anything on me. Not anything that would make them suspicious. I had never taken her out ... had never been seen with her. So even though I'd have to take the risk about being questioned, it really wasn't too much of a risk....
As I neared her apartment I could feel die change taking hold. I had to laugh. Like Jekyl and Hyde. Too bad there wasn't a full moon out-then it really would fit. But who needed a full moon? All I needed was a woman who used men. Who tried to destroy them ... sap them. They were all like that ... every one of them. Let's see, this was number thirteen. A baker's dozen....
When did it start?
The night I came home and found my wife in bed with another man. I should have known that's how it would end ... Janice was like that. Tall, willowy, blonde, sexy Janice. We had gotten married exactly four months after we had met. To love and to honor. What a laugh! But the signs were always there ... I was just too crazy about her to see them. Not that she was sweet or good ... it was the body of hers. All she had to do was make love with me and she could have anything she wanted. That's how she affected me. After a while she knew it. It was like having a monkey on my back, I wanted her so badly....
I guess she found that out the night I came home and she wasn't there. I finally found her in a bar ... stoned. She was with some guy who kept plying her with booze ... some guy, I found out later, that she had picked up. I could tell from the expression on his face that he thought he had it made. Just get her so high that she'd go home with him. Only it didn't work out that way. The irate husband walked in on them. Couldn't blame the guy though, he didn't even know she was married ... she had taken off her wedding band. But that's the night it all began. I dragged her home, so mad I couldn't even see straight. I didn't know what I was going to do ... except that I wasn't going to let her get away with it. And it would have worked except for one thing ... when we got home she wanted to make love.
And oh, how we made love. She surrendered to me like she had never done before. Did things to me that I've never seen written up on those sex books. She must have known how much I needed her, because that's all it took for me to forgive her. Or at least say that I understood her. Anyway, when it was all over, I kind of felt that her going out like that was my fault ... at least that's the way she made me feel. And from then on it was different....
Oh, we still made love. But only when she wanted to. And then only when she wanted something from me. Or wanted me to forget something. Never because we both felt like it ... because we both needed each other.
I knew she was laughing at me because of my hunger for her. Never out loud. But the feeling was always there. Sometimes in her face. Something in the way she acted or in the things she said. Especially in the things she didn't say. But I wanted her so badly that I lost all self-respect. She could make me crawl for her if she only knew it.
We used to go to bed and I'd lay there, stiff and tense wondering how to go about warming her up. How to make her want what I wanted. I'd touch her, pretending that it was an accidental movement of my hand. But she'd shake me off and then roll over on her side. And that would be the end of it. And do you know something? In all the years I was married to her never once did I touch another woman. I didn't want anybody else ... I wanted Janice ... only Janice. And if the only way I could have her was on her terms, that was okay with me....
I could always tell when she was up to something ... when she was either lying or going out or about to do something she didn't want me to know about ... because before it happened, she'd take me to bed. It was never me taking her to bed ... it was always the other way around....
And at the damndest times ... in the damndest places. While we were eating. Or maybe we were out dancing Or at somebody's house. Then she'd get that look in her face ... the one that made her look almost pagan-like ... and she'd start touching me ... kissing my ear ... rubbing against me. Doing everything to me so that I was climbing the walls with my hunger for her. Sometimes" we couldn't even wait to get back home. We'd either stop the car and park or go to a motel or find someplace that was hidden and isolated. And she'd give it to me right then and there. I used to hate the look on her face when it would happen ... like she was offering me the Holy Grail or something. But at the time I didn't care ... I wanted her so badly....
I don't know if there were any other men in her life. If there were, I wouldn't let myself think about them. What good would it do anyway? She'd only deny it and if she saw that I didn't believe her, she knew exactly how to make me believe her....
With her body.
And when it was over, I wouldn't care if there had been anybody else. I had just drank deeply of her nectar and there was never another woman wh tasted like that. None.
I don't know how long I could have gone on like that. There were many times I thought of packing the whole thing in. But she even knew when I was thinking that ... and she knew exactly how to make me change her mind.
Once I stayed away from home for three days while I tried to fight it. I don't know if I would have won or not ... it doesn't matter now. Because somehow she found me. I came back to the motel after eating some tasteless dinner in a drive-in and she was there. In my bed. Naked. She didn't say anything. Just held out her arms to me and let that look come over her face. And I was a goner. Nothing else mattered. And when it was all over, several hours later, I went back home where I belonged. Or where she wanted me.
I often wondered why she stayed with me. I had a pretty good business, but not so good that she could have whatever she wanted. And it wasn't the kind of a business that makes a wife proud of her husband ... you know, like a doctor or a lawyer or a writer. So it didn't make much sense. Oh, we lived pretty comfortably ... new car every year ... clothes ... vacations. But nothing out of the ordinary. So why did she stay with me? I couldn't figure that out....
Until it was over.
She stayed with me because I was the right kind of a man for her. The kind she could own. Control. Be her slave. At her beck and call. And it didn't take much on her part to keep me that way. Just go to bed with me whenever she felt I was slipping away from her. Whenever she felt I was weakening.
I guess she got bored with the whole thing before I found the guts to call it quit. Maybe she knew that I was reaching that point and wanted to turn the knife in my back before I could get away from her. Because I was reaching that point. I was getting so that having her was no longer a necessity. There were times, when I was so angry, that I could do without her. When she couldn't win me over-no matter what she did to me-or tried to do to me. Yeah, I guess it was only a matter of time before I had the strength to resist her completely.
And I guess she knew that.
But she wasn't going to let me off the hook that easily. That's why, when I came home early that day, she was in bed with another man. I don't blame the guy-he didn't know he was being used. He just thought he was making out, that's all. But he was a part of the whole rotten scheme. I could tell that from the look on her face. The satisfaction. The I-told-you-so expression. The who-needs-you grin. And as I looked down at her in that bed, her body still bathed with sweat from what she had been doing, I had my whole answer. I knew what it was all about....
Janice needed a man the way a black widow spider needs a man. To perform certain functions and then the suck him and drain him dry. To kill him. Not kill him dead, but to destroy whatever it is that makes a man a man. She was like a parasite, nibbling at a man's virility until it no longer existed. And when he was nothing ... when he was just a shell of a man ... then she would discard him and find herself another victim....
But it didn't work out that way in my case. Maybe I did become just a shell of a man, but I wasn't useless. For now I became a man with a purpose. A reason for living.
A vigilante.
I discovered that Janice wasn't unique. There were a lot of Janices in this world. Each, in her own way, doing the very same thing. Each, in her own way, sucking and draining every man she came into contact with. And there was no stopping them. There wasn't any law against what they were doing.
So I became the law.
And the judge.
And the jury.
And the executioner.
It is easy. Almost too easy. That's why I've been getting away with it. Police look for a motive when there's a killing. A reason that would make somebody resort to violence. And they look for someone who knows the victim ... some kind of a link.
Well, in my case they couldn't find either.
I didn't even know my victims. They were, except for that single meeting, complete strangers to me. And my motive didn't exist in any police record. I killed because they were woman. Women who thought men were here for but one purpose ... for their pleasure. And there wasn't a police officer in the world who had ever run across a motive like that.
That's why it was so easy. That's why it was so safe. There wasn't a chance in the world of linking me with any of the women who had been the victim of a sniper's marksmanship....
Sure, I was taking a chance with Jill. I knew that, but I didn't care. She was by far the worst of any of them. She didn't even pretend how she felt about men ... or why she wanted them in her life. Well, she had to be stopped.
And I was the one who would stop her. No matter what the risks.
They'd probably blame it on the guy who I had seen in her apartment. Certainly not on me. Why should I want to kill her? Just because she had stood me up a couple of times. Don't make me laugh, Lieutenant, that's no reason for me to kill a girl. Especially one I've never been out with. So she made a fool of me, so what? Show me a guy that some woman hasn't made a fool of and I'll show you a saint! No, Lieutenant, you've got the wrong boy ... and we both know it....
I drove slowly past her apartment, nodding in satisfaction at the darkened street. Good. Less chance of anybody seeing and then identifying me. I smiled at the apartment house facing hers ... everything was just right. All I had to do was to get up on that roof and the rest would be easy....
I parked around the corner, carefully checking the other cars. Empty. So far so good. I opened the trunk and took out the case. No sense in carrying the rifle right out in the open, so I took the closed case with me as I turned back onto Jill's street and walked with pretended casualness on the opposite sidewalk. Glancing around and spotting nobody, I hurriedly went into the lobby of the apartment house and, after a glance, found the firestairs. I took them two at a time, feeling the sense of excitement coursing through my veins when I came out onto the roof. An opaque-type of darkness smothered me as I scurried to the parapet facing Jill's apartment house. Quickly I opened the case and snapped the barrel of the rifle into place. Then, leaning across the low brick wall, I peered at the building across the street....
Damn it, all of the lights were out.
I didn't know which apartment was hers.
I crouched there in the darkness, the rifle held loosely in my hands, watching the windows across the street. Anyone of them could have been Jill's. And so, as I waited, the anger began to build within me. What was I supposed to do ... go knocking from door to door until I found the one that belonged to her. Damn that girl, ever since I had met her she had been nothing but trouble to me....
A light suddenly winked on and my fingers tightened around the stock of the rifle. I peered through the sight, waiting for a glimpse of whoever was in that room. Then my fingers relaxed ..it wasn't Jill. It was some old balding guy who was sitting on the edge of his bed in his underpants, struggling with his shoes. Wonder how he would have felt it he knew that the cross hairs of the scope were centered over his heart! Probably would have died of an attack without my even pulled the trigger.
More time passed and the street became even more quiet. I watched several cars drive by, holding my breath until they had passed. That was all I needed, somebody to walk on the street while I pulling the trigger! But my luck was still holding. Except for the fact that I didn't know which apartment was hers....
Another light winked on and once again I held my breath while I studied the window through the scope. The shade was down but from the shape of the silhouette I could tell that there was a woman in the room. A young woman. A young woman without any clothes on....
Then the shade went up.
And Jill, covering her naked breasts with her arms, looked out onto the dark street.
My finger tightened about the trigger, but she suddenly moved away from the window, disappearing somewhere in the room.
But at least I knew where she was. At least I knew which apartment was hers. Now it was only a question of time. Of waiting her Out. Of waiting for the good shot....
I examined the bedroom through the scope. It was just the way I figured it would be. All feminine and frilly. Soft and lacy. It was the kind of a room that a girl like Jill would have.
I bit down on my lip when I saw the haphazard pile of a man's clothes scattered on a chair against the far wall. Then I cursed softly in the night. Those should have been my clothes. I was the one who should have been sharing that bed with her.
I couldn't see the bed from my position across the street, but from the flickering shadows on the wall I could tell where it was. And I could tell what was happening in that room. They were embracing ... he was holding her close. Tight. I started to sweat as I imagined her rubbing her breast against his chest ... pushing her thighs against his leg muscles. Oh, she was a teaser that one ... a real teaser. Ask me, I ought to know.
And because of it," she would pay the price.
Because of it, she would die.
I smoked cigarette after cigarette waiting for her to come back to the window. I couldn't imagine why she didn't except for one thing ... she was too busy in that bed. That would be the only thing that would keep her away from the window. And, as I leaned against the parapet, window. And, as I leaned against the parapet, the rifle resting on top of the low wall, I tried to figure out a way of getting her to come to the window. But there didn't seem to be any way. At least none that I could think of. All I could do was to bide my time and wait. And be ready....
Again and again I checked the rifle. Adjusting and readjusting the elevation gear on the sight. Making sure. This was one time I didn't want to miss. I couldn't afford to miss. I had to be true with the first shot because it would be the only chance I would get. Since there was someone in the room with her, as soon as the shot was fired I had to get out of there. Get off that roof and out of the neighborhood. By the time the panic and the excitement had died down and an organized search was begun, I had to be miles away. And with an alibi....
I knew they'd question me but that didn't bother me. By the time they did I'd have an airtight excuse for my whereabouts. One they couldn't crack. Besides, who was going to suspect someone investigating the case of the maniac sniper? Certainly not Police Lieutenant Sturgis. No, I had it made. If I could pull it off the way I had it planned....
One shot. That's all. And then get off that roof. Maybe go down die stairs or even try to jump the small distance to the next building. It wasn't much of a leap ... maybe two feet. From the angle of the shot they'd never figure me to be on the adjoining roof. And by the time somebody did figure it out, I'd be gone....
Once again, I snooped into the room, examining it with my scope. Slowly the barrel of the rifle moved, my eye picking up everything. The dresser. The clothes. Books. A picture on the wall. Everything. I started to lift the rifle when I saw it....
And I froze.
There she was.
In bed.
Naked.
And the man was coming toward her.
How had I missed it before? Too excited, I guess. Too eager for a perfect shot at the window. But there was no mistaking what I was seeing ... she was sprawled back in the bed, that know-it-all expression on her face and her arms lifted in open invitation to the man that I had seen earlier....
I cried out as he gathered her to him, his mouth bruising against hers. I could sense the flattening of her breasts against his chest and, though I could barely make it out, I sensed the expression of passion on her face as his hands bruised against her flesh. She was enjoying it ... loving it ... thrilling to it. And iknew, as I watched, that it didn't matter who the man was, just so it was a man. That's what she needed a man ... any man.
They tumbled together on the bed, their arms and legs entwining as if they were afraid to escape from each other. The pleasure was obvious now ... in every movement ... every gesture. She was being fulfilled ... she was getting ready to drain him.
But I could stop that. I would stop that.
My eye kept glued to the scope, waiting ... waiting for the clear shot. My trigger finger tightened and relaxed as they rolled together and I smothered an hysterical laugh as I wondered what his reaction would be when he found he was making love to a corpse!
Because that's what she would be.
In just a few moments.
And then, the position I was waiting for, happened. She rolled on top of him, holding him down with her hands on his shoulders. Her head dropped and I could almost taste her lips as she smeared them against his. The back of her head was in my scope ... centered and lined up.
And that's when I pulled the trigger!
The crack of the rifle shattered the silence of the night and through the scope I could see the spider web-like splinters spread down her throat and shoulders.
Unable to look, I watched through the scope, waiting to see what would happen. Looking for the telltale spout of scarlet against that jet black hair.
But it never happened.
I thought I heard the scream all the way across the street and then she was rolling off him and disappearing from my view. I refocussed my scope, preparing for another shot. And as I looked through the cylinder, the breath went out of me ... I hadn't fired at Jill at all.
I had fired at a mirror on the far wall!
CHAPTER TWELVE
My only thought was to get out of there.
I had missed and in so doing I had alerted the whole neighborhood.
Then I saw her at the window again ... a robe thrown hastily around her shoulders as she anxiously peered out into the night. There was still time. One more shot. That's all I needed ... just one more shot.
Quickly I brought the rifle up to my shoulder and tried to line her up in the crosshairs.
But just before I pulled the trigger, a pair of hands yanked her away from the window! Damn him ... damn him ... damn him!
Now windows were opening ... excited voices were hollering ... lights were going on in the buildings across the way. I had to get out of here before it was too late. Before somebody figured it out and came up on that roof....
Hurriedly I gathered the rifle case and started to unscrew the barrel from the stock. If my luck held, I might be able to pull it off. Might just be able to walk out of that building. All I had to do was to. act like I belonged there ... nobody questions the obvious, it's always that which doesn't fit that causes questions. Calm down, I told myself as I fitted the pieces of the rifle back into the case. Just take your time. Walk slowly to the door and go down those fire stairs. Get off at the second floor and ring for the elevator. Then go out into the street and walk to your car. Nobody'll stop you ... nobody'll think to stop you. Then just drive slowly away. That's all there is to it. It's as simple as that ... after putting the rifle back into the case, the door to the roof opened ...!
I froze in the shadows, trying to squeeze myself into the darkness. Maybe they hadn't seen me. Maybe they wouldn't look. Maybe ... just maybe my luck would hold....
But it didn't.
"Caiden, we know you're up here. Throw down that rifle and come on out ... with your hands up!"
I recognized the voice. Police Lieutenant Sam Sturgis.
But he didn't know where I was. Not exactly. He only knew I .was somewhere by the wall. If I could get away from there ... could get across to the other rooftop, I still had a chance. It wasn't much, but I had to take it....
Carefully and slowly I inched my way toward the low wall that separated the two buildings. I cried out at the sound of the pistol shot and a fleck of cement suddenly erupted in front of my face. I put my hand up to my cheek, feeling the tiny trickle of blood....
"Don't try it, Caiden ... we've got the whole roof covered. I don't want to have to bring you in on a slab ... give yourself up and there's still a chance for you. You can cop an insanity plea.
Don't be a fool, Caiden!"
His words went through me like a hot poker, singeing and searing at my brain. "I'm not crazy!" I yelled into the darkness. "Do you hear me? I'm not crazy!"
I could hear the sound of whispering off to my left and I realized that whoever was with Sturgis was telling him what to do. Tensely I waited for the next move. I knew they wouldn't rush me ... that would be stupid ... somebody was going to die if they did that. And Sturgis didn't want one of his men to die needlessly....
While I waited there in the blackness, I reopened the case and put my rifle back together. Just in case....
Tim passed and I knew they were playing cat and mouse with me. Waiting me out. I gave in first....
"Go way and leave me alone," I screamed at them. "I'm not crazy! Do you hear me? I'm not crazy!"
Somebody snickered and my finger tightened around the trigger. "Not crazy? What would you call killing twelve people?"
"How do you know it was m? You can't prove a thing!"
It was Sturgis who answered. Slowly and carefully. "After we found that card on Wendy Solomon, you were our number one suspect, Caiden."
"Card? Her father said it was in a book. Why, he even hired me to find out who the killer was!"
"He was just playing along with us, Caiden ... doing what we told him to do. It was the only way we had of driving you out in the open where we could watch you."
I thought about that, cursing softly to myself. The fink, pulling a stunt like that on me. But wait a minute ... maybe they were bluffing ... maybe they didn't have a case after all....
"Why didn't you pull me in then, Sturgis?" I yelled over to him. "What made you wait?"
"Because it was all circumstantial. We didn't know where you kept the gun. You had no car. There was nothing in your apartment to give you away."
"And that's when you put a tail on me ... right?" I asked, remembering my uneasiness at being followed.
"That's right-but you were too smart ... you ditched the tail before he could find your car. I figured if you had a rifle, that's where it would be ... in the trunk of the car."
"But how did you know it was me?" I called. It was so confusing. There hadn't been a single way for them to connect me to any of the girls. Not one. And yet here they were, surrounding me on a rooftop....
"It wasn't easy. Not at first. But after a while, we figured out the pattern. Each girl was killed by some guy she had just met. Not a week or a day before. But that very night. After he made love with her, he came back and killed her. Right?"
I didn't say anything and I guess my silence was my agreement because he kept right on talking.
"So we weren't looking for someone they knew ... some friend ... or ex-boyfriend. But a stranger. Someone they had never been seen with before. And though it wasn't easy to find the stranger, it was simple to trace back the victim's activities during the day. And sooner or later, if you ask enough people, somebody's gonna come up with some kind of a description. Well, we put them all together ... all those descriptions ... and we came up with a composite picture of what the killer looked like. And Caiden, I was the one who recognized you...."
Damn him! Damn that condescending tone of voice! In my anger I threw a shot in his direction, taking satisfaction out of hearing the scuffling as he dived for cover behind the high brick chimney stack.
But he wasn't finished with me. Not yet.
"Only I couldn't convict you on that. Any smart lawyer could confuse an eyewitness who had only seen you that one time. So I needed more than that to tie you to the killing. And you, Caiden, gave me the break. Just why did you give Wendy Solomon your business card?"
I thought about that. I hadn't given it to her. Then I remembered. While I was in her apartment the phone had rung and she had needed a piece of paper to take down a message. I had given her the card so that she could use it to write on....!
"That's when I was sure it was you ... when I found that card. How else could Wendy have gotten it unless you had given it to her? And you had to give it to her the night you picked her up. I don't know why you gave it to her-I don't care ... but the fact that she had it, tied you to her."
"Why didn't you pull me in then?" I mumbled incoherently, my eyes trying to find a way out, .a way off that roof.
"Because I needed the gun. Without the gun, I didn't have a case. And you were smart ... you had two apartments. One where you lived when you were Mitch Caiden, Private Investigator and one where you lived when you were Mitch Caiden, Killer! But I never did find the second apartment ... or the car. It wasn't registered in your name ... you didn't keep it out in the open ... how could I find it? And no one ever saw you in it. You were smart, Mitch ... always taking taxis or bumming rides. No, without that gun I didn't have a chance...."
Silence oooozed across the rooftop and I knew that as I sat hunched in the darkness trying to figure a way out, Sturgis was doing the same thing ... trying to figure a way to stop me. If I could keep him talking maybe he'd forget about the other. I knew the bit man ... with the big ego ... he was relishing what he was doing ... the chance to show everybody how smart he was. All I had to do was to keep him talking....
"How'd you plan to get the gun, Sturgis?" I called to him. "How'd you think you could get me to bring it out into the open?"
"That's where Jill came in-Mr. Solomon's niece."
"Niece!" I couldn't believe what he was saying.
"That's right. His niece. We explained how he had killed her cousin ... and would keep on killing. And how we needed bait to drive you out into the open. Well, she agreed to be the bait. She certainly had the native for it. She was out to get you, Caiden, only you didn't know it. Or let's put it this way ... she was out to help me get you."
"Then it was all an act?" I said in a low voice that cracked with disbelief.
"Sure it was. There was only one way to get you ... and that was to get you so worked up that you'd want to kill her. Once you reached that stage, you'd come out with the gun. And you've got to admit that that little girl knew how to work you up...."
I still couldn't believe it. Not Jill. But it made sense. Every bit of it. Her passing out with no clothes on. That was just to give me a sample of what she looked like ... of what she could be like in bed. And then the breaking of our dates after telling me all she wanted was to make love with me. She'd kept me so high that if she. had touched me I would have exploded. But she never got that close. She didn't touch me and I didn't touch her. She had planted the whole thing in my mind ... built up the desire and the need and the hunger. It was like a man dying of thirst crawling on the desert toward a lush oasis ... only when he got there, the oasis was gone. Sturgis wasn't lying ... it all made sense.
"But-but what about tonight?" I stammered over to him. "Don't tell me she'd go through that with another man just to trap me?" Even I couldn't buy something as far out as that.
"That man happens to be her husband, Caiden. He knew the whole story ... we told it to him. And it was up to him if she played along with you. Well, you know the rest ... it was obvious that he agreed. Even though it was dangerous, it was the only way we had of catching you dead to rights. We've got you, Caiden ... on the rooftop ... with the rifle ... and after you've fired at a girl."
I staggered because of what Sturgis was saying. It had all been a set-up. An act. She had suckered me into making a move and I had fallen for it. Just because of a body. Just because I wanted her. Man, when will you ever learn...?
Then I pushed her out of my mind and tried to figure out what to do next. Now hidden between two walls, there was no way they could get me out. Not unless they wanted to shoot it out. And knowing Strugis, he wouldn't want to do that. He wanted me alive ... just like he didn't want any of his officers dead....
"C'mon out, Caiden ... I guarantee that nothing will happen to you."
In answer, I dropped a shot above his head, grinning at the whinning sound of the ricochetting bullet.
"Come on and get me, Sturgis!" I yelled across the rooftop. "But when you come, you'd better be shooting!"
Silence spread between us and far below on the street I could hear the wailing sounds of sirens as more and more reinforcements came in. The noisy belligerent voices of police officers cleared the street of the always-available thrill-seekers and after a while all that remained was the silence. I didn't know how long I could wait them out, but I sure was going to give it a try....
Dawn began to slip over the horizon, silhouetting the buildings in a hazy glow. I knew that they were all around me, taking up positions that would cut off my escape. But I also knew something else they didn't know ... they were never going to take me alive....
"Caiden?" I heard him call as it began to grow even lighter.
"Whatdya want?"
"I want you to be sensible." He sounded angry and it made me happy to hear him like that.
"Sensible? What are you talking about?"
"You need help?"
I patted the barrel of my rifle. "I got all the help I want right here!"
I grinned at the audible curse and settled down with my back against one of the walls, my feet tucked under me. The rifle was cradled in my arms ... like a baby....
"Not that kind of help."
"Sturgis, what the hell are you taking about?" Suspecting some kind of a trick, I leaned forward and peered around the edge of the barricade. But all was as before ... nobody was trying to sneak up on me.
"You're sick ... no man could have done what you did unless he was sick. Caiden, you're not normal."
"Are you trying to say I'm crazy!"
"What difference does it make what I say? I'm gonna bring you in and we both know it. Maybe on a slab, but I'm gonna do it. But we both also know no jury in the world is gonna convict you of Murder Number One. Any psychiatrist will attest to the fact that something's wrong with you. I want to bring you in so you can get some help. Why don't you let me help you before you make me send my men in after you? And you know that if I do that, you're not coming out of this alive."
I fished a pack of cigarettes out of my waist pocket and lit one. He was right. Sooner or later he was going to have to take me. Maybe some of his men would pay for it, but I knew from the tone of his voice that he couldn't help that. He had to bring me in ... that was his job. And he was only doing his job....
But I wasn't crazy! No! I couldn't let him call me that. What right had he to call me crazy?
I heard the sound of the roof door opening and peering around the edge of the wall, I saw somebody joining him. What was he up to...?
"Caiden?" he called after a few moments.
"Yeah, I'm still here."
"There's someone who wants to speak to you."
"Who?" I asked suspiciously, shifting the rifle to a ready position. "Me, Mitch. Just me."
My eyes pinched closed as I recognized the voice. Jill. Damn her! What did she have to come up here for? Hadn't she done enough? Why couldn't she have died like I wanted her to ...!
"Whatdya want?" I snarled at her. "Lieutenant Sturgis is right, Mitch. Nobody wants to hurt you ... we-we only want to help you."
"Help? What kind of help?" I asked suspiciously. "Strap me into the electric chair? Is that the kind of help you want to give me?"
"Oh Mitch," she cried, "nobody's going to do that to you. You're-you're a sick man, Mitch. We only want to help you get well."
Now I knew how a mouse felt when he was lost in a maze ... there were some twists and turns but there were no exits. No way outs. I could never get off that roof alive. Even though I kidded myself-made myself believe that I could shoot it out with them, I knew I didn't stand a chance. There were too many of them ... if I had been any place but trapped on that rooftop, I might stand a chance ... but not there....
"Mitch, I want to talk to you," she called again.
"Go ahead, talk," I answered, stalling for time. There had to be a way out ... there just had to be.
"Not here. Not like this."
I didn't understand. "How?"
"Face to face. I want to come over to you and talk to you."
The plan hit me. Sure, it might just work. Get her to come over to me and then use her as a shield. They wouldn't take a chance on anything happening to her. Not with me behind her with a rifle poking in her back.
"Sure, Jill ... come on over ... we'll talk."
I don't know how she did it, but apparently she knew the right words to convince them. For, as I watched, she suddenly stood upright from behind the protection of the low wall, and started walking toward me. I swung my rifle around so that it was pointing right at her gut ... if this was any kind of a trap, she was going to get it first.
She stopped right in front of me, looking down at me with those big brown eyes. "Help, Mitch," she said softly. I licked my lips. I wanted to curse at her. To smash out at her. To obliterate her. It was all her fault ... she was the reason I was trapped like this....
Reaching up, I grabbed her wrist and yanked her down to my side. She seemed to stumble under the pressure and as she fell I pulled away from her as if I had just been warned by a snake's rattles....
All she had on was that silly blue bathrobe. The one that, though it covered her, told you more about what was underneatlithegarmentthan if she were naked.
"Bitch!" I snarled at her. "What are you trying to do to me now ... get me all worked up so that I'll forget about Sturgis?"
She shook her head slowly and tried to close the garment tightly about her. "No, Mitch. I told you-I only wanted to talk to you."
"Why? You don't owe me anything."
"You need help, Mitch. Maybe I can start you on the way to getting it."
"Why should you want to help me? I'm the guy who killed your cousin. Remember?"
The hard expression on her face told me that she hadn't forgotten. But then it softened and she shook her head. "I don't believe in an eye for an eye, Mitch. You're a human being ... you need help. What kind of a person would I be if I didn't help you get it?"
"How do you know so much!" I shouted at her so belligerently. "Just 'cause you took a few psychiatry courses in college you think you know the answers to everybody's problems!"
I was fighting her and I knew it. But I didn't care. I had been fighting the whole world for a long time, why stop now...?
She shook her head. "You're wrong, Mitch. I don't know the answer to everybody's problems." Then she paused. She looked me right in the eye before continuing. "But I think I know the answer to yours," she finally said in a soft tone.
"Go ahead," I snarled at her. "Tell me what's wrong with me. Tell me what's bothering me."
"Women, that's what's bothering you, Mitch."
"What are you talking about? I never had any trouble finding a woman."
"That's not what I mean."
"What do you mean?" I asked uneasily, not sure that I liked where the conversation seemed to be heading.
"You think we're all tramps. I know all about you, Mitch ... I ought to, I read everything that Lieutenant Sturgis had on you. I know all about your marriage and what happened to it. I know about your Janice and what she did to you."
"So?" I snarled, not caring whether I hurt her or not.
"And you think all women are like that. Using a man until they're tired of him ... or until a better offer comes along. You think every woman in the world goes to bed with a man for just one reason ... because of what she can get out of him. If she gives in to him, he'll come across with whatever it is she's after. You think all women only use sex as a weapon. And because it's the most powerful weapon in the world between men and women, you think a man doesn't stand a chance. That she only gives in to him to suck him dry ... to put him under the control so that she can get what she wants. So that she can whittle him down to nothing. Make him like a puppet. Like she's saying, "Sure I'll put out for you, but you'd better behave!' That's how you think women feel about sex ... that's how you think they use it. To control a man ... to make him less instead of more! Isn't that right, Mitch? Isn't that why you've killed...?
I didn't answer her. Nobody wants to be hit with the truth ... especially when he's pinned down on a rooftop and there's no way out. So I didn't answer. I merely looked at her and hoped that she felt the lash of contempt that I was feeling. Don't soft soap me, baby ... I've been around too long. I've seen too much of it in my business....
"But you're wrong, Mitch ... so wrong!" She was pleading with me now and I didn't understand why. "Women aren't like that at all ... at least not all women. Maybe some of them are ... I'm sure your Janice was. But you can't condemn a whole sex because of one rotten apple. Can't you see that you're wrong, Mitch ... oh, please see that you're wrong...!"
I didn't like the way the conversation was going. She wasn't really trying to convince me to give myself up. Nothing at all like that. She was only trying to make me understand myself.
Trying to make me see why I had done what I had done. But talk wasn't enough. I needed more than conversation to convince me....
"Prove it, baby," I snarled at her. "I've never met a broad who was any different ... so prove that I'm wrong."
There was a look of misery in her eyes. "How do you want me to do that, Mitch?" she asked desperately.
I shook my head. "That's up to you. You're the one that's making with the big words ... you're the one who's trying to convince me that women are simon pure. So prove it. How you do it, is up to you. I could care less."
She sucked in a breath and closed her eyes. I could see her mind working and reaching for some kind of a solution. Something that would convince me of the truth of what she was saying. But there wasn't any way she could do that. I knew it and she knew it. Experiences and environment forge our beliefs and it would take more than mere words to change them....
And she gave me more than mere words.
She shifted her position so that she was on her knees facing me. Softly, so softly that I could hardly hear, she whispered, "Go ahead, Mitch. Make love to me. I'm yours, if-if you want me."
I couldn't believe it. Not even when she slipped that ridiculous bathrobe down from her shoulders and bared her flesh to me. I sat there, my back against the wall, the rifle cradled across my lap, and feasted on the nakedness of her body. But I didn't touch her. I couldn't touch her. Not yet anyway. I felt it would be like touching a booby trap. That the minute my hands caressed her naked breasts, she would explode....
"Why are you doing this?" I asked, my throat so dry, the words hurt to get them out.
She looked up at me, her hands on my thighs. "Because I want you to believe that there are women who don't use sex as a weapon. Who don't use it to gain control over a man. I happen to be one of those women."
My mind scrambled for something to say. Anything that would delay that which I longed to do. Because I knew I had to delay ... to go through with it would be to destroy myself. Now I would have no reason for being what I was ... for feeling what I felt.
"W-What about your husband?" I asked carefully.
"I'll take my chances," she answered quickly.
"You mean you'd tell him?" I couldn't believe her. Not over something like that.
"Of course I'd tell him ... I wouldn't lie to him. Maybe he'd buy it and maybe he wouldn't, but I wouldn't hide it from him. I'll-I'll have to take my chances on what he might do."
"But why? I don't mean anything to you."
She shook her head as if in disappointment. "You don't understand, Mitch. Maybe that's part of your trouble too. You don't understand that in this world you've got to care about what happens to another human being. You're another human being ... I've got to care about what happens to you. Especially you. You're sick-you need help-maybe this is the kind of help you need. I don't know. I only know it's the only kind of help I can give you."
It didn't make sense. Or if it did, I wouldn't let the understanding in. She was offering herself to me ... no strings attached. Just go ahead and use her body any way I wanted. Do whatever I wanted. Touch her. Feel her. Arouse her. Put my hands on her breasts so that her body sang with sensation. Stroke her belly and her thighs with my fingers so that she cried out for relief. Burn her lips with my mouth and my tongue. Force her to submit to me because it would be the only way she could find relief from the ache of the ecstasy that I could give to her. The pain of the passion that would pulse through her....
I looked at her face and I could sense the desire there. She wasn't hiding it ... she wasn't pretending. She wanted me to want her. And not because she could conquer me ... could subdue me. But because she could give to me. Could possibly make me whole again. I once read somewhere that sex is the cure-all for human ailments, maybe that's what was happening here on this rooftop....
Gingerly I reached out and cupped her breasts in the palms of my hands. I watched her eyes squeeze closed with the delight and I heard the soft whimper of delight escape from her partially opened mouth. It wasn't a game ... she was responding....
One hand breathed across the flesh of her belly and I could feel her muscles clench tight at the sensation. Still on her knees, she seemed to lean closer to me ... as if wanting me to do more.
Her nipples budded into erection and I licked my lips in anticipation. Her whole body suddenly seemed to be oiled in passion's-perspiration as I continued to touch her and I knew that it was only a question of time before she was in my arms and our bodies would be pressing hard against each other. I don't know if she wanted me, or if it was to escape the bite of the sensations that now had her under control, but whatever the reason, I knew I was looking at a woman who was caught in the trap of passion and desire and need. She was hungry. She needed to be fed.
And it was then that I reached for the bathrobe that had slipped down around her buttocks. Lifting it, I pulled it up over her shoulders. Her eyes opened and she looked at me questioningly. I smiled as I shook my head and then slowly I pulled her to her feet....
Arm in arm we walked across the rooftop to where Lieutenant Sturgis waited. He saw the expression on our faces as we looked down at each other and slowly he put the pistol back into his shoulder holster. We stopped an arm's length apart and I handed him the rifle. Then, just before he put the handcuffs around my wrists, I turned to look at her.
"It won't be easy, will it, Jill?"
She shook her head. "No, it won't be easy. But Mitch.., " she seemed to pause, as if searching for the words to say.
"Yes?" I interrupted.
"But it'll be worth it."
I didn't know if she was right. I could only pray that she was as Sturgis led me down from the roof and to the street below. I closed my eyes as I leaned against the back cushion of the squad car, shutting out the sound of the siren as we headed downtown. And all I could think of was that anything would be better than what I had just been through ... anything.
