When wealth is lost, nothing is lost, When health is lost, something is lost, When moral character is lost, all is lost.
-Mark Lucas
CHAPTER ONE
The two men stood over the young kid who was nervously puffing away on a cigarette. They had been questioning him for over two hours, while in another room, a young girl sat picking at her fingernails. She knew that it was wrong to have allowed the boy to come to her room, but after all, wasn't she in Daytona Beach for a good time?
Since Christmas she had been saving part of her salary she made at the department store so she would have enough money to really enjoy her first vacation, alone. How was she to know that this handsome young boy who had thrilled her with his exploits as a veteran from the Korean war wasn't also looking for a good time? She had been at the beach only two days when she'd met him.
She hadn't realized she was so far out in the water and that the lifeguard was blowing his whistle for her to come in nearer to shore. The boy had followed her and motioned for her to swim closer to the beach. The whole day had been spent with him, eating foot-long hot dogs and drinking root beer. He seemed so ashamed that he had left his money in his room, and sensing his embarrassment, she had lent him money for their lunch. Before the sun had set, they had fallen madly in love with each other.
Reluctantly, she had agreed for him to go to her room. After all, being six hundred miles away from home, who would know that she had fallen in love and given herself completely to a strange boy? He was so kind and gentle when he took her in his arms and slowly removed her new bathing suit. Their love had taken them out of this world. When she had awakened, she'd found her lover gone, along with the money she had worked so hard to save.
Several hours later, she'd seen him on the boardwalk talking with another girl. It didn't matter to her the scene she made, because she was determined to get the remainder of her two hundred dollars back. The boy denied ever having seen her before and said that if she called the cops, it would just cause them both a lot of embarrassment. Too, he told her that if she had him arrested that her name would be in the papers, and everyone back home would know she had taken a strange man to her room.
A policeman standing nearby walked up to them and demanded to know the trouble. She quickly told the officer what had happened. Now she was sitting in a room watching the police bring in drunks, pickpockets, and other petty criminals.
The two detectives assigned to the case kept watching the young man. Pulling a chair up in front of him, the detective pushed his hat on the back of his head and said:
"We're on duty for the next six hours, and we'd just as soon spend our time here with you as walking the boardwalk spotting pickpockets. To be honest with you, I'd rather sit and watch you sweat than bother a professional pickpocket. At least he does go about his trade relieving people of their money who can afford it, but cockroaches like you prey on young girls who trust you. You swiped that kid's vacation money, and I'm going to see that you get what's coming to you. We have a good reputation here in Daytona Beach, and you and your kind aren't going to ruin it by talking your way into a girl's room and stealing from her."
The young man ran his hand over his crew cut hair and grinned at the officer.
"Look, copper, I never saw that broad before in my life. It's like I told your partner, here. There I was minding my own business, talking with a girl friend, when this girl comes up and accuses me of snitching her dough."
"Who was the girl friend you were talking to?" the detective asked.
Shrugging his shoulders, he replied:
"Oh, just a dame I know; I don't remember."
"You mean you don't know who she was? She was to be your next victim. Now you listen to me, you young punk. The law prohibits me from laying a hand on you, but if you don't give that poor kid her money back, I'm going to lay for you, and sooner or later I'm going to send you and the rest of your bunch of wharf rats where you'll work for a living instead of feeding off of unsuspecting girls. Okay, Joe, take this son of a polecat and book him for vagrancy. His shyster will be along before midnight to bail him out," the detective said, giving the young man a shove towards the door.
Opening another door, the detective motioned for the girl to enter his office.
"Young lady, I don't know what we're going to do about you. There's no proof that he was ever in your room or knew you, so the only thing I could do was to book him on a vagrancy charge. That'snot getting your money back, I know, but we did our best. You say your rent's paid up for ten days? Then that'll give you a place to sleep, but if you'll take my advice, the best thing for you to do is to use that round-trip bus ticket and go back home a sad but wiser girl. I know it's hard to do, but you'll just have to add this up to experience."
The girl looked down at the floor and gave a half smile to herself. Looking back up at the officer, she shook her head and said:
"I know you did your best, and I appreciate it, but I can't go back home before my vacation's over, because everyone'll know something's wrong. Maybe I'll be able to find a job for a while and can salvage what's left of my vacation."
The detective looked at the girl a moment, then stood and walked over to the window. Turning back to the girl, he walked to his chair and sat down. His eyes roamed up and down her, then rested on her breasts.
"Stand up a minute," he said, motioning with his hand. "Pull up your dress and let me see your legs."
The girl looked at him, puzzled.
"Why do you want to see my legs?" she asked, as anger began to rise in her.
The detective glanced over on his desk at the complaint paper and replied:
"Miss Miller, my hands are tied as a cop, but there's a chance to put this young punk and others like him where they belong. We've had numerous complaints from girls who've been victimized by young boys, but they were afraid the folks back home would find out what fools they had been, and refused to press charges. You're the first one to really make a written complaint against these men, but unfortunately there were no witnesses. I have a friend who owns a detective agency, and I believe you're just what the doctor ordered for him. You see, his sister was a victim of these smooth-talking guys. She came from the north on her vacation and was going to surprise her brother, but the first day she was here, she permitted a young man to go to her room with her and he too relieved her of her cash. She became so despondent over the fact that this young coot had made a sucker out of her, she was found the next morning floating in the river. Now, I don't know what he has in mind, but I do know he's leaving no stone unturned to get the goods on these punks. If you want to work for him a while, at least you'll be making some of your money back."
"You talk as if I'm the victim of an organized gang here in Daytona Beach. If that's so, why don't the police move in on them and run them out of the state?"
The detective shook his head.
"Sometimes I think the laws were written to give the crooks an even break. Until we have something to go on, we can't run them out of town. We can pick them up and charge them with vagrancy, but before we have time to turn the key on the cell door, their lawyer shows up with a habeas corpus and has proof that the young punk has a job. Well, do you want the job, or are you going to be like the rest of the girl suckers, hang your head and start washing dishes in order to finish your vacation?"
The girl pulled her eyebrows together for a moment before she spoke.
"I may've been a fool to fall for that boy's line, but I've got something he doesn't think I have, and that's guts enough to make him pay for ruining my vacation. Sure, I'll take the job, and it'll be a pleasure to see his old black heart begging for mercy."
"Good girl, now we're getting somewhere. Remember this, your new boss isn't a police officer, and any violation of the law on your part or his, you're on your own," the detective said, writing an address on a piece of paper.
Handing the girl a bill, he winked and said:
"Take this ten spot and we'll call it a loan. If you help break up this ring, then consider the money an appreciation gift."
The girl took the money and slipped it into her dress pocket. Standing up and walking over to the door, she turned and smiled at the detective.
"Something tells me you're more interested in this case than in just seeing these young boys behind bars."
"Honey, you don't know the half of it. I'll give ten years of my life to see those bastards behind bars where no shyster can spring them," he said aloud, watching the girl leave the police station.
A while later, the girl stood before a small building looking at the sign on the window.
ADAMS DETECTIVE AGENCY SECURITY INVESTIGATION ESCORT SERVICE
Opening the glass door, the girl entered and stood for a moment, enjoying the cool air of the air conditioning unit. A young, blonde-haired secretary looked up from polishing her fingernails, and asked:
"May I help you, honey?"
"I was told that I may see Mr. Adams."
The girl left her desk and entered an adjoining room. In a moment she was back and smiling.
"Mr. Adams is expecting you, Miss Miller."
As she entered the room, she looked at the secretary, puzzled, wondering how she knew her name.
Mark Adams was a movie casting director's answer for a man to play the role of a private eye. His reddish brown hair which made him look taller than he actually was, matched his ruddy complexion. The dark eyes seemed to penetrate when he stared at a girl, which was often. He was the type a script writer would have push a beautiful girl around. Then she would fall at his feet pleading for more. The smile on his lips seemed to say, "Come in, baby, and strip for me." The girl felt awkward, as she stood just inside his private office, watching his eyes undress her. Her pert bosom rose and fell as she stood breathing heavily. Usually she would have been annoyed at a man staring at her this way, but she waited until he was satisfied that the protruding breasts were not foam rubber.
"You're Miss Miller?" he finally asked, laying his arms on top of the badly worn desk.
Nodding her head, the girl walked up to the desk.
"I'm Constance Miller, and you're Mr. Adams?"
"Please sit down," he said, motioning to a chair near the desk.
The girl pulled the chair closer to the side of the desk and sat down, crossing her legs and exposing part of her slender thigh.
"Mr. Adams, I was told that perhaps you had an opening for, shall we say, an amateur detective?" she said, keeping her eyes on the sinister grin that had changed from a smile.
"Carl Boatright, the detective you were talking with, called me after you left his office. It seems you've been doing a little fraternizing, and it turned out to be expensive to you." He paused a moment and looked down at her legs. "Not that I blame the young man, but a hundred and fifty-six bucks is quite a bit to charge for the favors he bestowed upon such a gorgeous body. However, it happened and the question in mind now is how far will you go to make him pay for ruining your vacation?"
Constance reached down and pulled at her dress, attempting to stretch it over her knees.
"Mr. Adams...."
"Call me Mark," he interrupted.
"All right, Mark, as I was about to say, I want revenge on him for making a fool out of me. Anything I can do to make him pay will be worth it."
"Well, I've done some investigating on my own, and this is a well-organized gang. It may be true that they're amateurs in their profession, but sometimes a gun in a child's hand will cause him to become a very big man. Before coming to Florida I was with the police department in my home town. My sister and I inherited a large amount of money, and I left the department and opened this agency. I have a personal interest in this gang of buzzards, and I want revenge too. I need a girl to work on the inside with this gang and find out all there is to know about their operations. I don't care what it costs, short of losing your life. It'll probably mean you'll have to submit not only to one or two of the men, but also to a woman known as Mama Lou. She's the leader of this so-called social club, and she isn't anyone's fool. The job could be dangerous, but if you deliver me the bastard who caused my sister's death, I'll give you five thousand dollars."
The girl sat with her mouth open, looking at the man across the desk. The lusty grin had left his face as he stared at her.
"You mean you'll actually pay me five thousand dollars just to get in with this gang and gather information about them? Man, you must have hatred in your heart that's black as sin."
Reaching for his wallet, he counted out two hundred dollars in tens and twenties.
"This is about the right amount a young girl would bring with her on a vacation. I want you to check in at the South Seas Hotel and use the name of Connie Andrews. Lay around on the beach in your bathing suit, until you're approached by one of these good-looking bastards. Don't be too anxious to take him to your room, let him earn the money he'll surely lift from your purse. After he leaves your room, dress quickly and follow him to his headquarters. He'll go right to it, because he doesn't want the money found on him, in case you let out a howl. Somehow, get into the place and scream your head off, until you meet Mama Lou. What I've learned about this woman, she won't send you away if you cooperate with her. Now, stand up and turn around, I want to look at you."
The girl stood and slowly turned her body around.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
"So far I haven't seen anything. Slip off your dress," he said, as if giving her an order.
The girl looked at the money on the desk, then reached down and pulled her dress over her head.
"What next?" she asked, looking over at him.
"Now your slip."
Pulling her slip off, she watched his eyes blaze with anticipation, as he licked his lips.
"Now you stand up," she said, gesturing with her hands.
"What?"
"I said stand up and take off your pants," she said, placing her hands on her hips.
The man grinned and stood looking at the large, round breasts.
"Why do you want me to take my pants off?" he asked, walking over to her.
"Why do you want me to take my clothes off?" The man looked at her with a dubious expression. "I guess it's because I wanted to see what you have under those clothes."
She smiled and laid both her hands on his shoulders.
"You men are funny creatures. Every novel I read, some man tells the girl to remove her clothes, and she meekly strips. Doesn't it occur to you that perhaps the girl would like for the man to remove his clothes? You told me to take off my dress and slip. All right, I've taken them off, now you take off your shirt and pants. What's fair for the gander should also be fair for the goose. Now take off your clothes, and I'll do the same, then we'll while away the time looking at each other."
Mark laid his cigarette on an ash tray and started taking his shirt off. Slipping his trousers off, he stood looking at her, as she kept wetting her lips with her tongue.
"All right, Miss Goose, I've taken off my clothes, now look at me," he said, looking down at her white legs.
"I'll take my brassiere off, and that'll make us even," she said, slipping the straps down her arms.
Her large, round breasts with the small hard nipple rose and fell with her heavy breathing. She was surprised as he clinched his fists and turned to pick up his pants.
"All right, kid, I've proven what I wanted to know. You'll fit the bill nicely. A girl who'll strip and give herself to a stranger without being worked up, really must have hate in her soul for that bastard who robbed you."
The girl grabbed his arm and wheeled him around and slipped her arms around his neck. There was anger in her eyes, as she said:
"No damn man's going to have me take my clothes off and then toss me aside. I'm not giving myself to you, Mr. Adams, because the last man I gave myself to cost me a hundred and fifty-six dollars. You're giving yourself to me."
Reaching over on his desk, he pushed a button down on the inter-office phone, and said:
"Rachel, I'm not to be disturbed for a while."
"Yes, Mr. Adams," the secretary replied with an understanding note in her voice.
Taking the girl in his arms, he gently pressed his mouth down on the small, ruby red lips. Kissing down on her throat, his lips touched the nap of her neck, releasing the agonizing passion that had been building inside her since she started to disrobe.
"What kind of nympho are you?" he whispered, leading her over to the long sofa in the corner of the room.
"Never mind," she said, reaching down and slipping his shorts down his hairy legs.
She kept her eyes open as he knelt before her and slid the pink panties down her body, then leaned over and pressed his lips against her leg.
"You're so good," he murmured.
"We're so good," she corrected him, as he stood and again took her in his arms.
"That sonofabitch taking this gorgeous body for nothing and then robbing you of your money! A guy like that should have to stand on the boardwalk naked with a sign saying that he not only takes the oranges, but also the blossoms," he said, laying the girl down on the soft carpet under them.
She lay in his arms on the floor with her head resting against the hair on his chest, stroking over his stomach, gently. His hand had cupped her heaving breast holding it stiff and firm. It was a wonderful feeling for her to be so near him, knowing that any minute they would become one, for at least a few exciting moments.
"When was the first time for you?" she asked, twisting the hair on his chest with her finger.
"Oh, I don't know. As long as I can remember I've been pulling up little girl's dresses. But look, baby, I didn't get you down here for conversation," he said, as he slipped his arms around her again and bruised her lips with his mouth, while his tongue began to explore between her lips. The touch of his lips sent fire to an already inflamed body. A wave of uncontrollable desire swept over her, as his hand slid down over her stomach and between her legs.
"Now, Mark, please-now," she begged in his ear, as she wrapped her arms around his body.
"Not yet, baby, when you're lying in those young punks' arms, I want you to remember a real man'll be waiting for you when this is all over," he replied, grasping her breast and slowly sliding the nipple into his mouth.
Her body seemed to wreath in ecstasy, as she felt his weight press down upon her.
Their lips pressed together, as she closed her eyes and thought to herself, Oh, why was I born to beg for this? Where could I find another man who's all man, like this beast on me?
CHAPTER TWO
The following day, Mark and Connie busied themselves with changing her appearance so that she wouldn't be recognized by the young man who had fleeced her. The morning was spent in a beauty shop changing her from a brunette to a blonde. While she was at the beauty shop, Mark registered her in at the South Sea Hotel as Connie Andrews from Mobile, Alabama.
That afternoon, as he stood looking out her hotel window, he turned and walked over to Connie and took her hand.
"There's still time for you to change your mind, Connie. I don't believe there'll be any danger for you, but if you should need me, I won't be far away. In that reasonable facsimile of a bathing suit, you won't have to wait long before one of the gang picks you up. Just keep in mind that you're an office worker, down here trying to have a good time. The thing I'm most interested in is getting pictures of the rats in action."
"How am I going to get any pictures without pointing a camera at them?"
Mark grinned and reached into his coat pocket and took out a tube of lipstick.
"I thought you'd appreciate a little gift from me," he replied, handing her the tube.
Connie looked at it, then over at him.
"That's sweet of you, but how do you know the shade I use?"
"Open the tube and you'll see that a good private eye investigates before he makes a move," he answered, still grinning at her.
She twisted the top from the tube and smiled.
"It's my shade, all right, you must've swiped my own lipstick to match."
"Look at the end of the tube, and you'll see a small hole. The little brass clip on the side is a trigger. Point the tube at me and move the trigger away from you."
Connie pointed the end of the tube at him, then pushed the raised piece of brass forward.
"Okay, so I pushed it forward but nothing happened," she said, looking down at the object.
"That, my dear little girl, is a camera. You've just taken my picture on a very small roll of film. When you put the cap back on the tube and twist it, you roll the film for the next picture."
"It didn't make any sound," she said.
"Do your best to take care of this little piece of equipment, because it's an expensive camera and very hard to get. You have nineteen pictures left, so don't worry about running out of film. Remember, without the film in that camera we won't have a case. Now, you have two hundred dollars and a bus ticket back to Mobile. Keep the money and ticket together in this wallet, so when the rats steal the money, they'll also see the bus ticket. Your job is to get in with this gang and get me the evidence I need. From now on, if you should see me, give no recognition whatsoever. If it becomes necessary for you to contact me, the cigar stand downstairs will see that I get the message. Be sure you talk to no one except the redhead at the counter. Good luck, kid, and give the job everything you have, and I do mean everything," he said, as he gave her an affectionate kiss on her forehead, then quickly left the room.
Several hours later, Connie strolled down to the beach and stretched out under an umbrella she rented from a vendor. For a while she watched several young people nearby play dodge ball. In the background she could hear the music from the different rides on the boardwalk and the barkers enticing the tourists to try their luck at the different booths. Laying her head down on her towel, she closed her eyes and let her thoughts ponder over the past several days.
"Hi, chick, got a match?" a young man asked.
Opening her eyes, she looked up into the face of a young man smiling down at her.
"I don't have a match, but you may use my lighter," she replied, as he dropped down beside her under the umbrella.
"Been down long?" he asked, lighting his cigarette.
"I just arrived this morning. See, I haven't the faintest touch of tan yet. Before my vacation began, I'd sit on the sun deck of the department store where I work every day during my lunch hour soaking up the sun. But look at me, as the Indians say, I'm just a pale face."
"The Indians also said that this pale face is very beautiful. Where's your roommate or parents?"
"I left my parents, job, and the girl who was suppose to come with me, back in Mobile, so that leaves me free as a bird to have a swell time for the next ten days," she responded, throwing her arms around, rejoicing.
"Well, no mama and papa, no roommate, baby, you have ten lonely days in store for you. Daytona Beach is a swell place to have fun, but not alone. I've been here for four days alone, and have I had fun? In the mornings I have breakfast alone, I swim alone, I eat lunch alone. In fact, the entire day is spent alone, and believe me, it's no fun. Now, don't get the wrong idea, I'm not trying for a pickup, but since we both are alone in this cold, cruel world, why can't we be alone together?"
"It just so happens that I'm not the kind of girl to be picked up on the beach, or anywhere. You see, I don't know you and you don't know me."
"Well, we'll soon fix that. Young lady, may I present my good friend Rodney Towers? I've known Rodney all of his twenty-eight years, in fact, I was with him when he was wounded in the war. I highly recommend him as a committee of one to help the Chamber of Commerce praise the world's most famous beach." Turning around in the sand, he continued, "Hell, Miss, er, er, now what did you say your name was?"
Connie laughed as the boy acted out the role of being introduced to her.
"I didn't say, but I'm Connie Andrews from Mobile, Alabama. I'm glad to know you all, Mr. Towers," she replied, extending her hand.
"Come on now, Connie, with that fake southern accent; I happen to be from the South myself, and I know we don't say 'you all' when we're speaking to one person," he said, holding her hand. "What do you say, do we keep each other from being lonely?"
"All right, Rodney, under one condition. When we buy something or pay our way into anything on the boardwalk, we go dutch. I'll pay my way and you pay yours."
"Now wait a minute, Connie, I didn't come down here broke, and I'm not going to allow you to pay for dining and dancing. After all, your money's for you to have a good time buying souvenirs for the folks back home," he answered, looking indignant.
"I worked and saved nearly three hundred dollars for this vacation, and I don't intend to take any back with me. My rent's paid for a week, and I have my ticket to go back home, and still have two hundred dollars left, so we go dutch or we don't go at all," she stated, determinedly.
"All right, sugar, if that's how you feel, but it's going to make me feel like a heel not paying for things."
Rodney was just what the Chamber of Commerce would have ordered to represent the City Father's desire for their visitors to enjoy themselves. For hours they lay on the beach eating hot dogs and taking periodical swims to cool themselves off. Their short friendship suddenly grew to more intimate relationships as they lay in each others arms. Several times Connie forgot that they both were only playing a role in a drama that would soon explode. She was the young girl again who was enjoying her dream vacation. One time she spotted the blond-haired boy who had taken her money, as he walked by with another young girl, heading towards the hotel.
"Goodbye virtue and goodbye money," she whispered to herself, watching the couple walk around to the bathers' entrance to the hotel.
With his arms around her, Rodney continued whispering his love for her, as his hand slid slowly over her breast, down on her stomach.
"Darling, I can't take this any longer. I want you so much," he said in a caressing tone, kissing the lobe of her ear as they lay under the large umbrella out of sight of the other bathers.
Connie smiled to herself, as she thought, You lying sonofabitch, you're going to get me and my money both, and there's something else you're going to get. Then aloud she said, forcing her lips from his mouth:
"Please, Rodney, I'm a decent girl, I just can't do things like that, please don't ask me to."
Pushing her from him, he looked out over the ocean.
"I guess this'll have to be goodbye for us then. You don't know the torment you've caused me to suffer when your body's so close against mine."
"No, Rodney, we can't forget that we've fallen in love with each other. Why can't we go on being in love, without doing something like that?" Connie pleaded, forcing her voice to tremble as if holding back a tear.
"Look, sweetheart, we both are a long way from home. No one knows either of us down here, so what harm could there be in our proving the love we have in our hearts?" he said, again taking her in his arms.
"You won't think I'm a dirty girl?"
"If I thought you'd permit anyone else to go to your room with you, I wouldn't want you, but knowing what a sweet, innocent girl you are, I must have you, my darling," he said, again pressing his mouth against her lips.
"Why can't we go to your room? I'm afraid some of the guests in the hotel may see you enter my room."
He thought a moment, then said:
"Darling, I haven't been exactly honest with you. I'm not alone down here. My friend's with me, so we can't go to my room."
"Well, all right, if you think we won't get into any trouble," Connie replied, after a moments hesitation.
Holding hands, they walked slowly toward the hotel and up the back steps to the second floor.
"Let's be as quiet as possible," Connie whispered, as they entered the room. Closing the door behind her, she turned the key in the lock and slipped her arms around him.
"Please, darling, be gentle with me, I'm scared to death. This is the first time I've ever been in a room alone with a man."
He took her in his arms and began bruising her lips with his mouth, while his hand began unfastening her halter. Stepping back a little, he held her at arms length as his eyes searched over the large, firm, round breasts.
"I feel so naked standing here with nothing on but the bottom to my suit," she said, trying to feel ashamed of herself.
"We can soon remedy that," he said, sliding his hands down over her hips and pulling her swim suit bottom down her legs.
Slipping his trunks off, he picked her up in his arms and laid her on the bed. Lying down beside her, their bodies were warm together, as he began kissing her face, then her large, heaving breast. She lay on her back, enjoying his tantalizing kisses. Suddenly an impulse came over her, and she wanted to kiss his body the same way he was kissing her.
Pushing him gently down on his back, she kissed his lips, then his chest. She liked the taste of him; she liked the manly smell of his body. His hands were on both her breasts squeezing them in a painfully exotic way, as his tongue forced its way between her lips, exploring the inside of her mouth. It was as if she had never been loved before. Only his kiss kept her from screaming out from the unbearable but thrilling pain she was receiving as his strong hands gripped her breasts, then he wreathed in agony as she felt his sharp intake of breath.
Like a flash, his mouth was once again on her breast, and she cried out softly in pain as she felt the sharpness of his teeth. Then he was on her, breathing down her neck as his lips followed her neck up to her hair line and down again against her mouth, brutal and vicious.
Connie lost all sense of reasoning as their bodies clung together as if a strong vacuum refused to release the suction that held them together. She felt the sweat on his back as her fingernails dug into his flesh, and she waited and prayed this moment would never end.
As abruptly as the sensation began, it was over for them. He turned over on the bed and lay looking at the ceiling gasping for breath. She laid her hand over his wet body and whispered:
"Oh, Rod, I want you again and again!"
Rodney turned towards her and gave her lips a peck with his mouth.
"Go take a warm shower, sweetheart, and when you return it'll be as if we'd just entered this room," he said, sliding his hands up and down her soft arms.
"Perhaps that would be a good idea, but it won't take me long, my love," she said, sliding off the bed and blowing him a kiss.
While Connie turned on the shower, Rodney quickly jumped from the bed and opened her purse. Searching frantically, he found the roll of bills wrapped in a tissue in the bottom of the purse. Slipping the money into the pocket of his bathing trunks, he quickly left the room.
While the shower was running, Connie watched for a moment through the crack of the door, then hurriedly slipped on a pair of panties and her dress. Turning off the water, she entered the room and grinned, as she said:
"How a handsome lover like that could be such a dirty rat is beyond me!"
Closing the door behind her, she walked quickly down the hall to the back steps and stood watching the man walk briskly away from the boardwalk toward the residential section of the beach. Keeping a good distance behind him, she followed him down one street and up another, until he turned and entered a house next to a vacant lot. She waited a few minutes, then walked leisurely up to the house and knocked on the door. A moment later, the door was opened a crack by a woman in her late forties.
"What is it you want?" she demanded, looking up and down the strange girl.
Connie smiled sweetly at the woman, and said:
"Tell Rodney that Connie didn't get her money's worth."
The woman frowned and started to close the door, then said:
"No one by that name lives here."
Connie stuck her foot in the doorway.
"That's too bad, because I'm going to the cops and scream my head off, and when they arrest him and you, too, I'm going to press charges all the way. You see, I have no one I care about knowing what I did with Rodney. "
The woman looked disturbed as she opened the door wider and invited Connie into the house. The living room consisted only of two large chairs and a table in the center of the room. On the table was a large picture album and a vase of artificial roses. Glancing around the room, she looked at the woman and sat down in one of the chairs.
"Well, do I get to see Rodney, or do I go to the cops?"
The woman twisted her finger around in her hand as anger came over her face.
"I didn't want to make a scene on my front porch is the reason I invited you in. I told you once and I'm telling you again, there's no one here by the name of Rodney."
"Perhaps I misunderstood his name. That was the one he gave me on the beach. Little Rodney not only robbed me of my honor, but also my filthy luker. Now, do I talk to this guy or do I talk with the police? May I repeat myself? There are no relatives, no friends, nor anyone else I care about knowing that not only did I allow a strange man in my bedroom, but also that I was as naked as a jaybird and so was he. I must say, he is worth any girl's money, but not to the tune of two hundred dollars. I have no desire to breakup your little racket, but I am very much concerned over my two hundred dollars."
The woman looked at the girl for several moments, as Connie reached over on the table and picked up a pack of cigarettes. Taking the table lighter, she lit the cigarette and sat back, allowing the smoke to slowly trickle through her nose. The woman shook her head and gave a short laugh.
"Okay, honey, you win, you'll get your money back, but I'd like to know, how did you get dressed so quickly and follow him here?"
"That was simple, I just threw on a pair of panties and this dress, see?" she replied, opening the front of her dress, exposing part of her round breasts.
The woman licked her lips as her eyes rested on the beautiful sight before her. Her hands trembled a little, but then regaining control of herself, she smiled again.
"You are a smart kid, honey, but tell me one thing. How did you know he was playing you for a sucker?"
"Rodney may be a great lover, but the dear boy is a poor actor. I don't doubt that he was worked up with me to a certain extent, but he overplayed his part. He was too anxious to get me out of the bedroom, so when I went into the bathroom, I quickly dressed and followed him here."
The woman laughed out loud again and called towards the hall door.
"Come on in, Robert, she's got your number."
The bedroom door opened and Rodney entered the room, grinning at the girl.
"Robert, I thought I'd trained you better than this. Now let's give the little girl back her money, then we'll all forget that this unpleasant incident ever happened," the woman said, snapping her fingers at the man.
"Look, Mama Lou, you can give her your fifty percent, but I'm keeping mine. I worked too hard with this kid to hand over this money," he said, counting out a hundred dollars and laying it on the table.
The woman frowned and stared daggers at the man, holding out her hand, persistently.
"Robert, I've spoken! Give this girl all her money back," she said sternly.
The man threw the remainder of the money on the table and stomped out of the room.
"Thank you for your assistance. Give this five dollars to the dear boy to soothe his pride. Tell him he was worth a great deal more," Connie said, taking the money from the table and throwing a bill back down.
The young girl walked over to the door and opened it. Turning back to the woman, she said in parting:
"Boy, what I wouldn't give to have a steady like him!"
The woman followed Connie to the door.
"There's no need to rush off, my dear. Sit down for a while and let's have a nice chat."
Taking the girl by her arms he led her back towards the chair. Connie hesitated for a moment as thoughts began racing through her mind. My better judgment tells me to run like hell, but my job isn't over, so I must come back to reality. I'll have to be a realist, above everything else, and play my part well. I have enjoyed being with a man in bed, enjoyed his talk, and his presence. The cold arm rest of the chair pressed against her arm, making her realize who she was and what her mission in this strange house must be. Mark had said it mattered not the cost, short of her life, he had to secure the evidence.
The woman pulled the other chair directly in front of Connie and sat down, looking hungrily at her. Laying her hand on Connie's knee, she stared down at the soft white thighs.
"Tell me something about yourself. Where are you from and what're you doing down in Florida?"
Connie glanced down at the woman's hand that was now gripping her leg.
"There isn't anything to tell. I'm from Mobile, Alabama, and down here on a vacation. I have no people and, as you can see, anything goes with me as long as I have fun," she assured her, feeling uncomfortable as the woman's hand began slowly sliding up under her dress.
"The money you have, did it come from your job?"
"I worked a whole year for that money, and no damn man's going to cheat me out of what I slaved for," Connie replied, watching the woman's hand slide up her leg an inch at a time.
"You have such smooth, soft skin, my dear. You don't mind me gently touching this lovely leg, do you?" Mama Lou asked, sliding her hand a bit higher up the girl's thigh.
"Why would you want to touch my leg? A leg is a leg, it doesn't matter whose body it's attached to," she replied, as the woman reached over, taking the girl by her arms and pulling her to her feet.
"I have a very peculiar weakness, my dear. Some people enjoy looking at a girl's breast, and, strange as it may seem, there are people who receive a thrill from touching a woman's stomach. Me? There's nothing more beautiful than a well-formed leg. Why some women'll allow their beautiful legs to become fat and flabby, I can't understand," the woman said, gently guiding the girl toward the front bedroom.
"Perhaps I'd better go now," Connie said, trying to force her arm free from the woman.
"Not just yet, my dear, there are several things I haven't discussed with you. We'll go into my private room where we may talk without any interruptions," the woman replied, opening the bedroom door and pulling the now-frightened girl into the room.
"Look, now, whatever your name is, just because I got my money back is no reason I can't leave here. I can still yell my head off to the cops."
The woman smiled and closed the door, locking it and slipping the skeleton key in her dress pocket.
"All my boys and girls call me Mama Lou. That's because, to them, I'm like a mother. You said a few moments ago that anything goes as long as you have fun. My dear, I can give you more fun in a few minutes than any man could give you in a week," she said, taking the struggling girl in her arms.
"You let go of me, I want to get out of here right now," Connie cried, trying to push the woman away from her.
"No, my dear, you don't want to go. As a matter-of-fact, it wouldn't be decent of you going out on the street this way."
Connie stopped fighting the woman and looked at her, puzzled.
"Why wouldn't it be decent? I have my dress and panties on."
"Not any longer, sweetie," Mama Lou replied, grasping the dress at the opening and tearing it from the girl's body.
"Why, you old bitch, why did you tear my dress off?" the girl shouted, covering her breasts with her hands.
The woman smiled again as she slipped her arms around the girl.
"Now, my darling, you'll know what real pleasure is. If there's one person in Florida who can give you true pleasure, it's Mama Lou," she said, pressing her burning lips down on the girl's mouth."
Pushing the girl's hands from her breast, Mama Lou clasped it in her hand, as her tongue forced its way between the girl's clinched teeth. Several times Connie attempted to push the strong arms from about her neck, but the woman held her securely.
Breaking her mouth away from the woman's lips, Connie looked up and pleaded:
"You may have my money, but please let me put on my clothes and leave. I promise I won't go to the police or anyone."
From the smirk of a grin on her face to anger, the woman gave the frightened girl a slap across her face, sending her backwards on the bed. Like a flash the woman was on top of her, slapping again and again. Connie caught the woman's hair and tried to pull it, as Mama Lou doubled up her fist and hit her in the stomach. Connie fought to regain her breath, as she automatically brought her knees up to her chin.
"You want another one where I put that one?" the woman asked, raising her fist to hit the girl again.
Connie couldn't speak but shook her head as she looked up at the woman. Straightening her body out on the bed, the girl continued struggling for breath.
"Are you willing to obey me in everything I tell you to do?" Mama Lou asked, again raising her fist above the girl.
"Yes. Please don't hit me again," Connie replied, trying to breathe deeply.
Mama Lou grinned and stood up, motioning for the girl to stand. Connie slid her sore body off of the bed, holding her stomach with her hands.
"Is it going to be necessary for me to give you a whipping, or will you submit yourself to me willingly?" the woman asked, taking the girl's hair and jerking her head back.
"What do you want me to do?" Connie asked meekly.
"That's better, now that we understand each other. Since you were so free to submit your body to a strange man, perhaps you wouldn't mind my eyes feasting upon your lovely body. Take off those pants," the woman demanded, as her eyes blazed with anticipation.
Connie's thoughts were on what Mark had said as she reached down and removed her panties, keeping her eyes on the woman whose strength seemed to equal several men. Throwing the pants on a chair, she watched her sit down on the bed and stare at her legs.
"Turn around slowly, my dear, and let these tired old eyes feast on those lovely legs."
Connie looked down at her legs, then slowly turned her body around as the woman's hands trembled, reaching over and touching Connie's thigh.
"Come sit on the bed beside me," Mama Lou said.
Connie sat down beside the woman and watched Mama Lou's large hand slide up and down her leg as a strange moan came from the woman's lips.
A queer, new feeling came over Connie as the woman slipped her arm around her and buried her lips against the girl's mouth. She felt the woman's fingers rub her nipple gently, then slide over her stomach and on between her legs. The girl tried to fight the sensation crawling over her body as wave after wave of torrid passion engulfed her. She lay motionless, as the woman gently pushed her down on the bed and began bestowing kisses over her body.
The room seemed to spin around, as she felt a trickle of blood fall from her mouth. She suddenly realized her own teeth were slowly cutting down into her quivering lips.
"Oh, no, not that. I won't have that," she cried, as the woman's lips kissed lower on her stomach. "I'll stop you, I've got to stop you."
Mama Lou grinned to herself, as she continued kissing the girl's stomach.
"Please, Mama Lou, I know what you're going to do, and I'm not going to submit to that," Connie cried, taking the woman's head in her hands.
Mama Lou slipped off of the bed and began removing her clothes as the young girl lay as if paralized, unable to move. Her emotions were so high she could only watch the woman remove the large bra and slip and step out of her pants. The girl made no move, as the woman again lay down beside her. Taking the helpless girl in her arms, she again met Connie's lips with hers. The same strange feeling continued to cover her body as she felt the weight of the woman on her.
"Just do as I do, my angel," Mama Lou whispered.
Connie lay still wondering what was happening to her, as the woman continued forcing her tongue into her mouth. Several times Connie attempted to turn her head away from Mama Lou, then without realizing her movements, she was now returning the burning kisses the woman was bestowing upon her.
"You're mine, my angel. Say you are mine," the woman whispered into Connie's ear.
"I'm yours, Mama Lou, whatever you do to me," Connie cried, throwing her arms around the woman.
"Since you're alone in Florida, you'll move in with me. Tell me you want to share my bed each night," Mama Lou urged, as the girl nodded with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I can't think straight, all I know is that I don't want this to end," she stammered, again forcing her tongue into the woman's mouth.
Breaking the spell of their kiss, Mama Lou said:
"Unless you tell me you're moving in with me, I must call a stop to our little game."
"Oh no, please don't stop. I can't let you stop," Connie pleaded, shaking her head back and forth.
Connie tried to think of Mark and what advice he would offer her under these circumstances. After all, he had said that anything goes short of her death to get the information he needed. Too, this strange, new adventure she had been introduced into was thrilling and caused her to forget that the woman over her was one of her own sex. What was this strange, mannish-looking woman making of her? Was she to become a freak, or could she retain her senses under such passionate circumstances? Mama Lou wasn't what one would picture in their minds as a motherly type woman. Although her breasts were overly large, the short hairdo and the large muscles would cause one to think they were looking at a large man.
"Please don't make me decide now, because I'm in no condition to make any decisions. I came down to the beach to enjoy the ocean, not cooped up in bed all day and night, too."
Mama Lou kissed the girl gently on her ear and said:
"You won't be cooped up in bed all the time, just when you want the favors of Mama Lou."
"That's what I'm talking about. The way I feel now I don't want anything but you."
"Then you'll leave your hotel and move in with me?"
"Yes, yes, I'll do anything you say. I've never felt this way before. What's happened to me?"
"Stop crying, my angel. Nothing's happened to you. I've just released something that's been with you all your life and you didn't know it. You thought having a brute of a man do it with you was pleasure, now you know the difference."
"No man has ever caused me to feel this way. Say you'll never leave me," Connie cried, pleading with the woman as she closed her eyes to stop the room from spinning around.
"I won't leave you, my dear, I've only started with you. What Mama Lou can do to a young tender girl is unfit to print," the woman replied, as her mouth again cut off all air to the half-conscious girl's lungs.
CHAPTER THREE
Later that evening, Connie returned to her hotel feeling exhausted from the unusual life she had found with Mama Lou. For nearly an hour she lay on her bed looking out the window into the darkness. Downstairs she could hear the sound of the amusement rides on the boardwalk. Around about this time the boardwalk should be crowded with parents being followed by tired but excited tots who keep begging to ride each ferris wheel and merry-go-round as they pass.
Life was exciting on the boardwalk and beach for the thousands of tourists who had driven down from the North to spend ten days or two weeks vacation. In their excitement in this unusual land of make believe, little did they realize the drama unfolding around them as they ushered their little ones toward the motels and beach cottages for the night.
Leaving her hotel room, Connie walked down to the boardwalk and sat on one of the many benches and watched the crowd parade back and forth. A few children dressed in scanty apparel followed their parents from one concession to another, while behind them a well-dressed man or woman followed a short distance behind keeping their eyes fixed on their young bodies in a lustful way. Several detectives kept their eyes on the potential child molesters while pretending to be watching the sights of interest.
Connie grinned to herself as two young girls, who felt free to roam the boardwalk, giving the young men the eye while their parents, perhaps, were attending the dog races.
"Keep going, kids, you'll make the grade. Sooner or later some dirty bastard will pick you up, and, for a couple of rides on the ferris wheel, you'll find yourself on the beach, minus your panties," she muttered to herself, as Mark walked up and sat on the end of the bench, eating popcorn.
"Don't move your lips or look my way, but tell me quickly what progress you've made," he said under his breath, reaching into the bag for more popcorn.
Connie looked up at the circling ferris wheel and replied:
"I'm on the inside now, but the woman wants me to move in with her tomorrow. I'm scared, Mark, what should I do?"
He threw a handful of popcorn in his mouth and looked out over the beach toward the dark water.
"Either quit now or follow through with whatever she wants. I have the address of the house you entered. What kept you so long in there? I thought you'd never come out."
"How did you find out the house I went into? There wasn't anyone following me when I knocked on the door."
"I didn't follow you, I was ahead of you. When you turned down Brevard Drive, I drove around the block and met you walking down the street. I rented a room across the street from the house after you went in. I can observe the outside of the house, but once you enter, you're on your own."
"There's more going on in that house than lifting girls' vacation money. Don't worry, I'm not quitting now, I've just made my first play, now it's up to that woman to raise the ante."
"The stakes are high in this game, and you can't win every hand, so be prepared to lose for a while."
Connie smiled a little and said:
"I know what you mean, I had an ace high flush for a while, but she had all the queens, so I had to bow to her majesty."
"Maybe the revenge I want isn't worth making a dyke outta you," he said, standing and pretending to be looking up and down the beach.
"Don't worry about little Connie, just keep on making plans for your revenge," she replied, standing and walking past him and toward the pier.
A few minutes later, she entered a drugstore and sat down in a booth for a late snack. After ordering a sandwich, she looked around the store and saw a man in his bathing trunks staring at her. He left the counter and walked over to her booth.
"If you aren't waiting on anyone, how about me joining you?" he asked, sitting down at the booth, not waiting for a reply.
"I'm not in the habit of being picked up by strange boys," she replied, attempting to become indignant.
"To begin with, beautiful, I'm not a strange boy, I'm a man. In the second place, since I'm down here all by myself, I'm awfully lonesome. Please have pity on me and let's just talk a while," he said, reaching for the menu.
Shaking her head, the girl smiled.
"All right, we'll sit and talk. Now, what do you want to talk about?"
The waitress took the man's order and looked down at Connie, suspiciously.
For a while they sat drinking their coffee and talking about the different sections of the country. Leaving the drugstore, they walked down to the beach and strolled along the sand, watching the moon cast its reflection over the ocean. Slipping his arm around her, he gently pulled her closer to him.
Connie had to bite her lips to keep from laughing in the man's face. He must be new in the racket, because his approach was so awkward. Not smooth and polished like the other two who had taken her to her room and lifted her money. She had no desire for sex now since her tussle with Rodney and later with Mama Lou, but she enjoyed the way he pressed his lips against hers. As she felt his rough hand down the front of her blouse clasping her breast, she could feel the small red nipple become hard, as he kissed her hair and then her neck.
Suddenly his lips were on hers in a brutal way, pressing the tender skin against her gleaming white teeth, her body melting into his arms. Her knees felt weak, then bent and collapsed, as she dragged him down with her, enjoying the sensation of his weight crushing her into the cool, damp sand.
"Oh, Connie, darling," he whispered, gently nibbling her ear.
"Yes, Steve, yes," she breathed, as her arms tightened around his body.
"I want you, my dearest, so much, oh so much," he whispered again and again.
"I want you, too, Steve, but not here, it's too dangerous," she said, pushing him from her.
"No one'll see us from the boardwalk, it's dark down here."
Connie looked at him for a moment, thinking to herself, Why you no good bastard, Mama Lou should give you better instructions. Not only did I give you an opening to take me to my room and rape me, but also a chance at my money. Looking down and drawing circles in the sand, she said:
"Someone may walk up on us. Perhaps we could go to your room."
"We can't do that, because my sister's with me. Maybe we could go to yours," he said, laying his cheek against her face.
Connie grinned and nodded her head.
"You won't think me a dirty girl if I permit you to come to my room, will you?"
"No, my darling, how could anything as sweet as you be dirty?" he asked, standing and pulling her to her feet.
Walking slowly back to the boardwalk holding his hand, Connie looked up into his smiling face. He wasn't handsome, and yet he possessed something that couldn't be described. Perhaps it was his personality. He was tall, sandy-haired and had a ruddy complexion. Connie thought he must be about thirty-five and perhaps new to the enterprise she had walked into.
Opening the door to her room, the man followed her in and glanced about the room.
"A room like this certainly must've set you back quite a bit," he commented, as Connie pushed her suitcase, which she had packed earlier, under the bed.
"I worked hard for a whole year so that I could afford a nice room and enjoy myself for ten days," she said, turning and facing the man.
He took her in his arms again and as his lips pressed against her mouth, his hand began unfastening her blouse and bra. Stepping back, he stood admiring her lovely breasts, as she slowly removed her skirt.
Beads of perspiration popped out on his forehead, as she stepped out of her pants.
Quickly removing his bathing trunks, he picked the girl up in his arms and laid her on the bed. Standing over her, he smiled down and said:
"My darling, this is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen."
Connie held her arms out to him as she thought, What I have in my purse will look much better than bone and muscle.
The man lay down beside her and roughly grabbed her in his arms. His lips began gnawing at the white flesh on her neck, then on down to her breast. A lightening flash of passion swept from her head to her toes, as he kissed her breast and on down to her stomach. Taking his finger, he inserted it into her little round navel, as he kissed down over her hips to the white, gleaming thigh.
"I didn't know a navel had any feeling in it," she whispered, as his fingernails dug down into the flesh.
The man continued sliding his burning lips up and down her leg, and his hand returned to her throbbing breast. Quickly he reversed his position on the bed and was again probing her mouth, while his hand ran through her hair.
"I've had many girls, but, darling, if there are any sweeter than you, please keep me from them, I couldn't take it," he whispered in her ear.
Connie knew the man was handing her his regular line, but she was enjoying every minute of it. Too bad there wasn't a position open some place where she could enjoy working as she was enjoying the job Mark had given her. Why some girls fought for their honor in the back seat of cars, denying themselves the exciting moments only an experienced man could give, was beyond her. Then she thought of Mama Lou and how she was taken out of the world by the tender embrace of a woman. How long could she last with one thrilling sensation after another? Was it possible for a girl to be thrilled by a man in a natural way and also enjoy the exciting moments of a woman? She felt his weight slowly press down on her, and then as if someone had hit her with a hammer, stars came before her closed eyes, as the thrilling moment of life came to an abrupt end.
For a while they lay on the bed panting for breath, looking out the window into the darkness. Sliding his perspiring body from the bed, he reached over and wiped his wet face with a hand towel.
"I'll be back in a moment, my sweet. Each moment will seem like an hour," he said, walking toward the bathroom.
"Boy, what a corny line that bastard has. Hell, he's all bawled up, I'm the one who's supposed to enter the toilet while he swipes my money," she said, reaching for her panties on a chair.
Suddenly Connie started laughing to herself. Quickly slipping into her clothes, she reached under the bed and pulled her suitcase out. Picking up the man's trunks, she quietly slipped out the door, locking it behind her. Walking hurriedly down the back stairs, she looked up at the hotel and continued laughing as she threw his trunks into a garbage can and replaced the lid.
Entering a drugstore, she went into a phone booth and dropped a dime in and dialed a number. Soon a voice answered:
"Good evening. South Sea Hotel."
"I just wanted to report that I saw a man sneak into room two-fourteen a few moments ago, and he may be a burglar. I thought you'd like to know about him," she said, then hung up the receiver.
Leaving the store, Connie hailed a cab and had the man drive her to a small hotel several miles down the beach. After registering, she went directly to her room to rest for the big day ahead of her. She took a cool shower, then walked from the bathroom and stood looking at her nude body in the mirror over the dresser.
"Well, you gorgeous hunk of meat, you've certainly been well attended to these past several days. How long you'll be able to stand the punishment, I can't say, but remember, it's all in the interest of justice and, of course, sex, too," she added, running her hands up and over the large, round breasts.
The next morning, Connie was up early feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep. It was Sunday morning, and although she was a long ways from home, and in spite of the fact she had not adhered to her training, she still wanted to go to church. For a while she lay on the bed watching TV. Later she dressed in her best clothes and walked down the Avenue, until she came to a church, but hesitated for a while before entering. Taking a seat near the back, she felt ashamed of what she had done since leaving home. During the sermon she attempted to keep her mind on what the man in the pulpit was saying, but her thoughts kept revealing how she had yielded herself not only to three men, but also to one of her own sex. As she was leaving the church after the services, she felt a hand on her arm. Looking around, she caught her breath, as the man she had left in her room stood grinning down at her.
"Hello. I didn't expect to find your kind at church," he said, leading her toward the street.
"My kind is your kind, so what are you doing in church?"
The man laughed a little and led her toward a new Mercury sedan.
"You have me there. Perhaps I felt a little guilty for what I did, and thought a visit to church would make me feel better. It's going to take several visits to the church to cause me to feel normal again. Get in the car and let's ride a bit," he said, opening the car door.
Connie got in and looked around at the new upholstery. For a moment the heat from the closed car caused her to wipe perspiration from her face. Then, the cool air trickled from the air conditioner and brought almost instant relief from the grueling midday sun. As they crossed the scenic bridge over the Halifax River, they passed through the city of Daytona and out the highway past the race tracks, without either of them speaking. Turning to the man, Connie giggled and said:
"I didn't know the racket paid off so well."
Steve looked puzzled for a moment before replying.
"What racket are you referring to, swiping bathing suits and sending the cops to your room? Baby, I ought to drive out to the swamps and beat hell outta you. When I came out of that bathroom and not only found you gone, but my trunks, too, I could've killed you. Then the next think I knew, while I was trying to decide how to get out of the hotel naked, the door opened and the manager came in with two cops. I had a hell of a time trying to explain that you swiped my bathing trunks. If I wasn't in a hell of a position standing there naked, telling them a girl lured me to her room and swiped my trunks! That little gag just cost me a two-hundred-dollar bond. What I'm going to tell my sister when the trial comes up, I don't know."
"Why didn't you call Mama Lou? She would've sent her shyster around to bail you out."
"Now who in torment is Mama Lou, your mother?" he asked, looking bewildered.
Connie stared at the man with her mouth partly open.
"Come now, little man, don't tell me you aren't part of the racket."
"You keep referring to a racket. I don't know anything about a racket; all I know is I went to your room and thought I'd found the sweetest little girl in the world, and she turns out to be a bathing suit stealer."
Connie's heart missed a beat as it dawned on her that this man was sincere. Placing her hand over her mouth, she half whispered:
"Oh, Steve, you mean you had no intentions of stealing-my money? You honestly went to my room only to make love to me?"
"Steal your money?" the man said, dumbfounded. "Look, little girl, I could write a check any day for fifty thousand dollars and it would be honored at any bank, so why would I want to steal your money?"
Connie tried to fight back the tears, as she looked down at the dashboard of the car.
"I'm sorry, Steve, I thought you were one of a gang of men who talk their way into girls' rooms and steal their vacation money. I wouldn't have done that to you for the world. Look, I know a detective at the police station, and maybe if I explained what really happened, they'd return your bond and drop the charges."
The man laughed to himself, then laughed out loud.
"I think you've caused me enough embarrassment to last a lifetime. I had a bondsman bail me out, and when the trial comes up my lawyer will handle it for me. I'm really sorry you thought I was such a crumb that I'd steal your vacation money, but I guess I had it coming." Dodging a hole in the road, he glanced at a sign as they passed, and remarked, "We're nearly to DeLand, suppose we have dinner and look the town over, before we return to the beach. I've always wanted to see this town, but never had the chance until now. I hear it's beautiful, with a university, a fountain of youth, and anything a sightseer might enjoy."
Leaving the highway at a junction, Steve turned the car south and drove slowly through the picturesque town. Turning down a side street past the university, he observed an old hotel situated back from the road under a group of large oaks covered with Spanish moss.
"I'd sure like to finish what we started last night, if you'll promise not to steal my pants and shorts."
Connie looked at Steve and laid her hand on his knee.
"I seem to be an expensive girl, but since you can afford it, I'd like nothing better than to be in your arms without being afraid you're going to steal my money."
"Honey, when we leave this hotel, you'll wish your money was all I'd taken. I'd just started good last night, now I'm going to give you everything your gorgeous body deserves," he said, parking the car in front of the hotel.
Steve stood for a moment and looked about the room. In contrast to the modern hotels on the beach, the room was furnished with an iron poster bed, abeat-up dresser, and an old-fashioned rocking chair. Walking over to the window, he looked down on an alley next to a service station. As he turned around, he grinned to himself as he looked over at the bed.
"Well, it's not the best flea-bitten hotel I've been in, but for the purpose we have in mind, it'll do fine."
Connie walked up to him and slipped her arms around his neck. The man looked down into her blue eyes as their lips met. For a while they stood locked together as one, while his lips kissed her forehead, cheeks, and lips. His hand rested on her breast, and-he felt the girl's body tremble a little. He then reached down and slipped her dress over her head, enjoying the fullness of her young, inviting body. Removing her slip, he stepped back and allowed his eyes to roam up and down her voluptuous body. As he sat down on the rocking chair, he motioned for the girl to disrobe.
Connie smiled and reached around to her back and unsnapped the lace brassiere and let it fall to the floor. Reaching down, she removed her panties and tossed them aside.
"Turn slowly around, honey, and let me feast my eyes on your lovely body. Somehow, I can't seem to get enough of looking at you in the nude."
The round, firm breasts seemed to swell with each breath the girl took. Glancing down at her breasts, she felt the small, firm nipple harden. Her thoughts took her for a brief moment back to her childhood days. She smiled to herself, remembering the twelve-year-old girl who sat across from her in school. The child was small in statue and the small, round breasts that seemed to stretch the freshly ironed print dress fascinated Connie. Often she would sit pretending to be studying her geography book while casting glances at the girl across from her. It wasn't until they were both thirteen she saw for herself that the child's breasts were her own and not foam rubber, as she had suspected. She had walked home with Elinor one afternoon from school, and together they had explored each other's body in the privacy of the girl's room. Elinor had given Connie practical experience massaging her breasts to make them grow larger.
Later that afternoon, Elinor's ten-year-old brother had joined the girls and entered into this new and fascinating game. After examining the nude body of the boy, she soon grew tired of him and turned her attention toward Elinor. This experience had paid off in later years, as she quickly found out that sex on the beach becomes part of one's vacation.
Connie turned slowly around and looked at him over her shoulder, as he stood and started removing his clothing, keeping his eyes on the nude girl before him. Throwing his shorts down, he took her in his arms again and bruised her lips as his mouth pressed firmly down.
"I've had many girls in the nude, but you, my darling, are the most gorgeous woman I've ever had in my arms. I want to kiss your lips, your throat, your breast, and every inch of this tantalizing body," he said, gently walking her backwards and laying her down across the bed. Kneeling beside her, he bit her ear lobe, then down over her shoulder to her breast. Like a hungry animal, he began devouring the girl's breast, filling his mouth full of the throbbing muscles. Connie gave a faint groan of pleasure, as his hand rested between her legs.
Squeezing her hands together, she continued her soft moans as wave after wave of desire covered her body. His mouth continued its downward drive to her stomach, as he kissed around her navel.
Connie's body shook as if frightened, when his mouth kissed over her hips, down her thighs, and then the sole of her foot. Her body was now in agony of desire as his lips began the slow climb backup her other leg to her hip. Turning the girl over on her stomach, she took a deep breath as his cheeks lay on the firm, round buttocks.
"Oh, Steve, please so something besides kiss my body, I've got to have you," she cried, catching her breath as his lips moved up her smooth back.
Ignoring the girl's plea for relief, he turned her on her back again and pushed his tongue into her mouth.
Her lips parted to receive the pulsating kiss.
Connie threw her arms around him in utter abandon, while his body pressed down on her, keeping his lips glued to her burning mouth.
"Oh, darling, this is the moment I've dreamed of all my life! To be at the height of passion in the arms of a real man," she whispered, pushing her lips free for a brief moment.
"I hope you don't breed easily," he said, drawing her body up to meet his.
"Let me have a baby. Let me have a dozen, only let me have you," she cried, just before her breath was cut off as their tongues met for a few moments of pleasure.
CHAPTER FOUR
The following day, Connie left her hotel and moved in with Mama Lou. The older woman seemed delighted to have the young girl share her room. The morning passed quickly as Mama Lou gave her new recruit instructions on how to lure women to their hotel room and then relieve them of their ready cash. Travelers checks, jewelry, or other items of value, were to be left strictly alone. Connie was to work the racket the same as the young men. Then Mama Lou gave Connie the necessary funds to visit the hotel bars, where women of means would be seeking a sexual partner of their own sex.
That afternoon, Connie entered an exclusive hotel and walked leisurely into the bar and sat down at a booth.
For a while she sat sipping her drink with a downcast look on her face.
She had ordered her third drink and several times had taken her handkerchief and pretended to be wiping the tears from her eyes.
"Mind if I join you," a voice said softly.
Connie looked up into a smiling face. The woman was in her late fifties, with almost grey hair. She was smiling in a motherly way as she sat in the booth across from the young girl.
Nodding her head, Connie again pretended to wipe her eyes and replied:
"No, I don't mind."
"I couldn't help but notice you were sad about something. A pretty young girl at Daytona Beach unhappy? Something terrible must've happened to cause you to ruin your makeup with tears," the woman said, as a waiter walked up to the booth and took her order.
"A martini for us both."
Connie shook her head and attempted to force a smile.
"No, thank you, I've had three drinks already, and they've done no good."
The woman reached across the table and took Connie's hand.
"Nonsense, my dear, a martini will cheer you up, how about it?"
Connie smiled faintly, and said:
"You're sweet to try to cheer me up."
"Things aren't so bad that a good drink won't make them seem right again. Now what man has caused a pretty little girl like you to become so unhappy?"
Connie looked down at the woman's hand holding hers and replied:
"My husband and I have separated. We haven't been married but a year, and already he's stepping out on me. We came down here for a vacation, and this afternoon I found out that he paid a girl's way down from our home town. Last night he didn't return to our hotel until after midnight, and I know he was with her."
Shaking her head, the woman said:
"That's just like a man. Here he has a charming wife who can give him all the pleasure he needs, but is he satisfied? No, he has to chase around after another woman. I know just how you feel, honey, because I've been through the same thing with my husband. We have a lovely home in DeLand, and he's well thought of in the community, but does that cause him to be an ever-loving husband? It does not. He doesn't think I know what's going on, but I'm not blind. We employed a young girl to be my companion, while he's away on business trips, but instead of being my companion, she's under the impression she was employed to be his bed companion. My husband and I haven't shared the same bedroom in years, because I'm a very nervous person. Often at night I hear this young hussy sneak past my bedroom and crawl into bed with my husband. She's lucky that I happen to be a woman who doesn't care what he does as long as he shells out the money to me. I have a cottage here on the beach and spend a great deal of time over here."
Taking her drink in her hand, she emptied the glass and continued:
"Sometimes it helps to get things off your chest. Suppose we go to my cottage and you can tell me all about your troubles. Perhaps together we could work out a solution to your problems. You know it isn't always the man's fault. Sometimes a wife could be the cause, unintentionally."
"I couldn't burden you with my troubles," Connie sighed, forcing a smile on her face.
"Nonsense, my dear, we women must stick together, if we're to beat the male population. Now come along and see if you won't feel better," the woman said, laying a large bill on the table.
Reluctantly Connie slid from the booth and followed the woman into the hotel lobby.
As they left the hotel, they entered the woman's car and drove south down Atlantic Boulevard. For several miles the two women rode in silence until they came to the residential section of the beach. Turning into a drive, the woman stopped her car and got out. As Connie left the automobile, she looked up and down the road. There wasn't another house in sight.
"You stay out here alone without any neighbors?" she asked, as the woman turned the key in the lock and opened the front door of the small, white stucco house.
"I like it this way. Neighbors are nosey, and nosey neighbors carry tales to the wrong people," the woman answered, as they entered the front room.
The cool air from the air conditioner felt refreshing to the girl who stood looking around the richly furnished house.
"It's beautiful," she said, dropping down on the sofa.
The woman smiled and sat down beside her.
"It's small, but it's just what I want to get away from everybody when I feel down in the dumps the way you do. Now tell me, when did you become suspicious of your husband?"
"Tom and I were happy together back home. Oh, I know he played poker every Thursday night, at least that's what he told me, but now I doubt that he played poker unless it was with that dirty woman."
"He probably played poker on Thursday night, all right, but it wasn't with the boys, it was with that woman he played strip poker," the woman replied.
Connie smiled as she watched the woman get up and walk toward the patio.
"Come here, my dear, and I'll show you why I enjoy spending several days a week here at the cottage."
Connie followed her out on the patio and looked out over the ocean. The water was sparkling blue with waves breaking gently near the shore.
"It's beautiful here, so quiet and peaceful," the girl said, as she felt the woman's arm slip about her shoulder.
"I always thought it was beautiful until you came, now it seems that you've added beauty to the beautiful. Come, my sweet, I'd like to show you the rest of the house," she said, leading Connie back into the living room. The girl pulled away and followed her into a back bedroom, just as the telephone began to ring.
"Now who could that be? I'll be back in a minute, my dear," the woman said, leaving the bedroom.
Connie walked over to the window and stood for a moment looking out over the ocean. Walking back to the dresser, she looked at herself in the mirror.
Glancing over at a small table she saw a photograph album. Opening it, she was shocked to see different pictures of nude woman. Slowly she turned the pages and looked at the different girls and women in desirable poses. Under each picture was a number that puzzled the girl. Looking toward the door, she saw the woman had returned and was standing in the doorway smiling.
"Well, I guess the cat's out of the bag. As you can see, I have a very peculiar hobby. I collect pictures of beautiful women in the nude. I have my own photographic room where I make and develop my pictures."
Walking over to the table, the woman slowly turned the pages, identifying each picture. Pointing to a girl in her early teens, she said:
"This is a picture of my niece Wilma, who's a junior in high school at Compton. That's a small town about fifty miles from here. Usually on weekends she visits me, and we enjoy swimming in the ocean and taking long walks on the beach. She's such a lovely girl and seems to look forward to each week end with her Aunt Grace. By the way, I'm Grace Gertman, what's yours?"
"I'm Peggy Williams, at least that's what everyone calls me. My real name's Margaret Williams, but I've been called Peggy since I was a child."
"Well, Peggy, please call me Grace. Come and I'll show you my photographic room," the woman said, leading the way across the house to a locked door. "I keep this door locked so that my visitors won't wander into it. Usually I keep that album in here, but I forgot to return it this morning while resting on my bed."
The woman turned on the lights and closed the door behind them. The room resembled a movie studio set. Behind the bed was a large mural of a picture window giving the effect of a beautiful bedroom. In front of the bed was a camera on a tripod with a flash gun attached.
"Gosh, this looks just like a beautiful bedroom, except for the camera," Connie said, in surprise.
"That's the effect I've tried to create. Ihave a wonderful idea, my dear, we can get your mind off of your troubles having fun with the camera. Now stand over by the bed and look toward me," she said, gesturing with her hand. "Now let me get the camera in focus and we'll make a picture of you," she continued.
"Let me put some makeup on," the girl said, taking the lipstick from her purse. Quickly pointing the tube toward the woman, she pushed the brass button and then pretended to be applying lipstick.
"Now look this way and give Grace a big smile," the woman said, as Connie dropped the tube into her purse and forced a smile on her face.
A sudden flash of light and the woman laughed a little, then adjusted the camera again.
"Just for the heck of it, let's take one with just your slip on."
"I'm afraid someone may see the picture if I take off my dress."
"Nonsense. We'll tear the picture up after I develop it, if you wish. It's all in fun, and besides, we'll get a good chuckle out of it before we destroy it."
"Well, all right, if no one will see it but us," Connie replied reluctantly, pulling her dress over her head.
Grace quickly posed Connie and snapped the shot.
"Now let's try one without your clothes on. Real art, you know." She walked over to Connie and quickly removed her slip.
"I'd rather not pose in the nude, Grace. I'd be so embarrassed."
"That's foolish, my dear. We'll tear the pictures up after we've had a good laugh," Grace replied, removing the girl's bra.
Connie grinned to herself as she pulled her pants down her leg. The woman arranged her on the bed and took several shots in different poses. Her eyes lit up each time she touched Connie's arm and pushed the large breasts together.
After taking several pictures, the woman removed her own clothes and lay down beside the young girl.
Slipping her arms around Connie, she eased her body close to the girl and pressed her lips down on her mouth, while her hand explored the secret parts of the young girl's body.
"I don't understand what you're doing," Connie said, playing the part of the innocent.
"Just love me, my dear, and you'll forget you ever had a husband," Grace said, taking her breast in her mouth and sucking in deeply and soothingly.
Connie again smiled to herself as she pretended to be fighting the passion the woman thought she was bestowing on the naive girl. Moving on top of the girl, the woman's lips sought hungrily after Connie's mouth, as the girl fought to breathe.
"Please, Grace, let me up," Connie pleaded, feeling the first wave of real passion suddenly take hold of her.
"No, my darling, not just yet. We belong together, and together we'll find the contentment and satisfaction only a woman of experience can give," Grace said, as Connie threw her arms about the woman, pulling their bodies closer together.
A few minutes later, Connie watched the woman dry her body with a towel and take the negatives toward the dark room.
"I won't be but a moment and we'll see that lovely body in print," she said, closing the dark room door behind her.
Connie shook her head and laughed a little as she quickly left the photographic room and walked across the house to the bedroom. Opening the woman's purse, she searched quickly through her billfold and removed her money. Going to the dresser, she opened several drawers and searched for any money the woman may have hidden. On the bottom of the second drawer were bundles of letters tied with blue ribbon. Slipping one of the envelopes from a pack, she withdrew it and read:
Dear Grace:
I am enclosing the five hundred dollars you demanded. I had to sell my watch, rings, and several other things to raise the money. I've sent you all the money I can without my husband knowing about it. Please, Grace, if you have a heart, send the pictures you took of me and let me destroy them. If my husband finds out about us, he'll take my children and divorce me. Don't demand any more money, because I can't raise another dime.
Mary Alice
"Why that no good bitch is a black mailer," Connie said aloud to herself.
Opening another envelope, she read a pleading note for the woman not to mail her father copies of the picture of her in the nude. Taking the two letters, she returned to the photographic room and slipped them, along with the money, into her dress pocket. Taking the tube of lipstick, she took several shots of the room and slipped the tube also in her pocket.
Connie had finished dressing when the woman opened the door of the dark room.
"You shouldn't have dressed, my dear, we aren't finished with our little get together," the woman informed, reaching down to pull Connie's dress up.
"I want to go back to the hotel now. My husband'll be worried why I'm not back," Connie said, stepping back from the woman.
She again took the girl in her strong arms and pulled her against her nude body. Stepping back abruptly, she looked down at the girl's pocket.
"What do you have in that pocket?" she said, looking suspiciously.
"It's nothing but my personal things," Connie replied, grabbing the woman's hand as Grace withdrew the letters and money.
"Why, you dirty little thief," she cried, giving Connie a slap across her face. "You rob me of my money and letters, while I'm sweating in the dark room."
"You're nothing but a dirty blackmailer," the girl shouted, as the woman grabbed her and threw her to the floor.
"I'll teach you to rob me, you little bitch," Grace screamed, as her fist closed, beating Connie about the face. The young girl fought back as they rolled over and over on the floor, knocking the camera down on top of them.
"Now see what you've done, damn you, you've broken my expensive camera," she bellowed, as she tore the girl's dress from her.
Connie continued to fight back as the woman quickly stood and began stomping the girl on her stomach with her bare foot. The girl lay gasping for breath, as she saw the woman's foot coming toward her face.
Turning her head to one side, the woman's foot missed her face by an inch. Picking up the broken camera, Grace raised it over her head and began to laugh, as she looked down into the girl's frightened face.
"Now, my pretty little bitch, neither your husband nor anyone else will know you after I've smashed your stinking head in."
"Hold it, fat girl," Mark said, rushing into the room and grabbing the woman's arm.
"Who are you, and what in the hell do you mean breaking into my house?" Grace shouted, struggling with the man.
Connie drug her sore body to her feet and smiled over at Mark.
"Thank heavens you came in time; that bitch was about to kill me," she said, reaching down for her torn dress.
"Baby, you haven't been out of my sight very long at a time. When you didn't come out after so long, my instinct told me something was wrong. The front door was unlocked, so I just walked in and heard the noise in here," he said, throwing the woman over on the bed.
"Mark, that she-bitch is a dirty blackmailer. She takes pictures of women in the nude and then makes them pay hush money so their families won't see the pictures," Connie said, going into the dark room and grabbing the negatives the woman had hung up to dry. "These are negatives she took of me naked, pretending we were to get a good laugh out of them."
Mark took the film and held them up to the light.
"I'll take care of these, baby. After this case is over, and you return home, I'll have something to remember you by," he teased, laughing.
"Oh hell, you don't," Connie shouted, grabbing the film.
Mark quickly slipped the negatives into his pocket and withdrew his gun.
"Here, baby, keep this leach covered while I call our friend Detective Boatwright."
The woman looked up at Connie and sneered.
"So, you're a policewoman! I should've guessed it when you were such an easy prey."
"No, you fat bastard, I'm not a policewoman, I'm an official whore for men and women. We didn't figure rats like you in on this deal," Connie said, waving the gun toward the woman who was attempting to get off the bed.
"Look, honey, let's forget our misunderstanding and make a deal. You get your boy friend to forget all this, and I'll make it worth your while."
"You don't have enough money to make it worth my while, old girl," Connie replied, cocking the hammer back on the pistol.
"Would twenty-five thousand be enough?" Grace asked, lying back on the bed.
"You don't have twenty-five thousand."
"Behind the large picture in the living room is a safe. In that safe is over twenty-five thousand, and it's all yours if you stop the boy friend from calling the cops."
Connie grinned as Mark entered the room.
"Well, baby, the sheriffs men are on their way to take care of this fat baby. All right, old girl, get up and get dressed, unless you want to be taken to DeLand in the nude," he said, taking the gun from Connie.
"What about all the pictures she has of those poor women?"
"The sheriff's men will take them in as evidence, along with anything else that'll send this fat bitch to Raiford for a good many years."
"Mark, she said that behind the picture in the living room is a safe with over twenty-five thousand dollars. Don't you think my wear and tear deserves something?"
Mark laughed and slipped his arm around the girl, resting his hand on her warm breast.
"Baby, you haven't had any wear and tear like you're going to have after this case is over," he said, squeezing her breast.
"Then let's get it over with so there'll be enough left of me for you to wear and tear," she said.
"Patience, baby, anything worth having is worth waiting for," he replied, watching the woman reach down for her clothes. "Isn't that right, fat girl?"
The woman looked up at him for a moment, then grinned.
"What little I had of her will be worth waiting for," she said, slipping on her girdle. "I only hope they have some as tender and nice up at Raiford."
"They will, fat girl, just be patient. Just be patient," Mark said, sliding his hand down the front of Connie's dress.
CHAPTER FIVE
After her first tussle with Mama Lou, Connie had been disappointed that the older woman had not attempted to touch her again. It was true she shared the same bed with Mama Lou, but for sleeping purposes only. Several nights Connie had watched her prepare for bed and a gnawing feeling for the woman had come over her. One evening after the two women were in bed, Connie attempted to take Mama Lou's breast in her hand, but the woman had firmly stated that there was a time and place for everything.
One morning after the young men had reported to Mama Lou and then left the house to scan the beach for their next victims, Mama Lou sat at her desk in the bedroom staring off into empty space, while Connie lay on the bed reading a paperback novel. Looking up from the book, she said:
"Boy, this is one more hot book. It's about a young girl taking on six boys, one after another and then begging for more."
Mama Lou turned and attempted to force a smile on her face.
"Yes, I've read the book. Some authors have wild imaginations. A girl doesn't take on six boys one after another and then beg for more. I guess some gullable people would fall for that line of trash, but what I like to read about is real life. If I were an author, I'd write about a young girl falling in love with a man, and after they were married she discovered what a brute her husband was and his only thoughts were to use her body to satisfy his filthy lust. Then the girl meets a beautiful woman and together they realize that life can be beautiful in each other's arms. Now, that's a real life story for an author."
Mama Lou again stared off into space, then turned toward Connie and continued:
"The reason I know it's a true to life story, is that it happens to be the story of my life. I met Jim in high school, and we fell head over heels in love. We slipped off and got married, and the first night we were in bed together, that bastard nearly tore my insides out. I cried and pleaded for him to be gentle, but he didn't know the definition of the word. I got two wet kisses and bang, he was at it, not giving a damn about the torture he was inflicting on my young, tender body. I thought that was part of being married, so each night it was the same hell over again, until I met the sweetest woman in this world.
"She taught me the word love not only meant tenderness, but also complete satisfaction. While Jim was at work, I'd sneak over to my lover's home, and for hours we'd enjoy the fullness of each other. I took Jim's brutal ways for over a year after that, then left him and moved in with my sweetheart. Several years ago, we came down to Florida and started this racket of relieving young girls of their money. At first we worked it alone, then recruited some veterans just out of service. It's funny how the young girls fall for these men and take them to their rooms.
"Back home they wouldn't let their boy friends touch them with a ten-foot pole unless it had a marriage license dangling from it. Yet, down here away from everyone they know, the girls feel free to cut loose and turn their butts up to any man not caring if they get pregnant or wind up with a dose of bad disease.
"We started another racket about a year ago, and up until now it's paid off. Grace and I bought a small house down the beach, and it was her job to lure young married women to the house and take pictures of them in the nude. Naturally, the married women would want the pictures as souvenirs, so Grace made them pay through the nose, otherwise their husbands would receive a picture of their wives in the arms of another woman. Something went wrong the other day. Some young bitch had her boy friend waiting outside the house, and he called the cops. Grace is out under a five thousand dollar bond, and that sweet little racket's ruined. Sooner or later we'll find that little tramp, and when we do, God have mercy on her soul, because her butt's going to belong to us."
A cold feeling crept over Connie as she lay listening to Mama Lou go into detail about the plans she had for the girl who turned the blackmailer over to the police.
"I'd have been afraid one of the women would confess to her husband and he'd call in the cops," Connie said, pretending to continue reading the novel.
"We wouldn't have been caught if Grace hadn't picked up that little slut. A five thousand dollar a month racket gone and a good chance of Grace being sent to prison. Well, it's done and there isn't anything I can do about it, until I find that dirty bitch who had Grace arrested. I sent her to Chicago for a while to get her poor nerves quieted down. It was a horrible experience being cooped up in jail in DeLand." Straightening the papers on her desk, the woman changed the subject. "Now, Connie, I want you to stroll down the boardwalk and visit some of the bars again. Up until now you've brought in absolutely nothing. The bars open about ten, and there should be some sex-hungry female just waiting for you to relieve her of her cash. Remember, you can't be too careful in this game. Let the woman make all the passes, then you find out as much as possible about her, before you go to her room. It could be a dirty policewoman, and we can't afford another pinch. Change into your short-shorts and make me proud of you by bringing back at least a couple of hundred for your morning's work."
Several hours later, Connie strolled down the boardwalk, watching different people walk leisurely along. She visited several bars without any luck and then sat down on one of the seats on the boardwalk. For a while she watched some of Mama Lou's boys stroll along looking for their young victims. She grinned to herself, and yet felt pity in her heart as she watched a young girl walk toward the hotel with a young man. The girl had lovesickness written all over her face, as, arm in arm, the couple made their way to the girl's room.
"Well, look who's sitting all by her lone self," a voice said, interrupting her thoughts.
Looking up, Connie smiled at Detective Boatwright, as he stood looking down at her.
"How's the Police Department treating you these days?" Connie asked, as he sat down beside her.
"That was a wonderful piece of work you did on that blackmail woman. Too bad it wasn't inside the city, and I could've been the arresting officer. When this job's over, if you want to continue in police work, I have a friend up north who could use a girl with your guts."
Connie turned her head and looked out over the ocean and grinned.
"You mean a girl with my guts, or one who'll do the things I'll do?"
The Detective looked down at the boardwalk a moment before replying.
"Look, kid, don't try to brand yourself as a no good tramp. Officers are breaking the law every day to protect the public. If we went right by the book, the crooks would have such a jump on us this country wouldn't be a safe place to live. Now, take me as an example. Last night I shook down two men and found they were carrying pistols. I had no search warrants and really didn't have any reason to search them, except I had a hunch that they didn't look right to me. I've probably saved some innocent citizen from getting his guts blown out or being robbed by these crooks. If it takes breaking the law to protect honest people, then I'll break every law on the books. You've taken on a dirty job, but a job that must be done if we're to stamp out this vicious racket and make Daytona Beach a safe place for young girls to enjoy their vacations without being victimized by these rats."
Connie grinned again and looked over at the Detective.
"This job won't last much longer. I've taken pictures of the young men handing the money over to Mama Lou and also some good shots for the police to familiarize themselves with the men who are members of the racket."
The Detective gave Connie a pat on her hand and stood, looking up and down the boardwalk.
"Keep up the good work, kid, I wish there were more like you to work with the police. Mark said he'd give me the word when we're to close in and make that long-awaited arrest."
Connie watched the Detective walk down the boardwalk, then left and walked in the opposite direction. Entering a bar, she walked back to a table and sat down, waiting for a waiter to take her order. Her attention was attracted to the door, as a young girl entered and walked up to the counter and sat on a stool. The bartender walked over to the girl and shook his head, indicating she was too young to be served. Connie kept her eyes on the girl and then left the bar and followed her out on the boardwalk. The girl walked over to a seat and sat down, laying her head across her arm on the back of the seat. For several minutes Connie stood and watched the girl, then walked over and sat down next to her.
"It's too pretty a day for you to look so sad," Connie said, as the girl glanced up and smiled faintly.
"I saw you trying to buy a drinkat the bar. Besides being too young to drink, you should know that whiskey doesn't settle any problems."
The girl looked down at her hands she had been twisting nervously and shook her wavy black hair.
"I don't drink, but I've always heard that you could drown your troubles with a drink. The bartender said I was too young for him to serve me. I told him I was twenty-one, but he didn't believe me."
Connie laughed a little and laid her hand on the girl's arm.
"Certainly he didn't believe you. You couldn't be over sixteen years old. Now, why don't you go home and tell your troubles to Mama? I'm sure she'll understand."
The girl slowly shook her head in despair.
"I don't live here, and I can't go home until the time for my vacation's over," the familiar line poured out. "I lost all my money except five dollars and my bus ticket home. I don't know what could've happened to it, unless someone slipped into my room and stole it out of my purse. I can't understand why they didn't take it all, if that happened."
Connie laughed a bit to herself, as she looked at the guilty expression on the girl's face.
"That's just about what happened. Now let's see if I can't describe the burglar who entered your room and stole your money. He was tall, and had blond hair and blue eyes. He was wearing white bathing trunks and fell head over heels in love with you at first sight. You knew you shouldn't let him go to your room with you, but you're down here to have fun, so what to hell if you do side step a little. How much did that little romance cost you?"
The girl looked at Connie, shocked.
"How did you know who took my money?" she asked, turning red in the face.
"I saw you both going toward the hotel this morning," she said, giving the girl a kindly smile and squeezing her hand. "Honey, it happens every day here at Daytona Beach. You have your bus ticket home and enough to eat on until you get there, now why don't you get on a bus and go back home and add this up to experience?"
"I haven't been here but three days, and my folks would know something was wrong if I returned before my vacation's over. I just can't go home now."
Turning her head toward the beach, anger came over her face.
"There's that dirty dog who stole my money," she said, pointing to a young man lying on the beach beside a girl.
Connie looked at the man, then back at the girl. She knew the girl had hatred in her heart and would probably do anything to make the man pay for stealing her vacation money. Getting up, she said:
" 'Suppose you and I go to your room and talk this over. Perhaps there's a chance you may get your money back."
The girl looked at Connie for a moment, puzzled, then stood and started walking toward the large hotel near the boardwalk.
"Do you think there really may be a chance for me to get my money back?"
"There's a darn good chance, if we play our cards right. What's the number of your room?" Connie asked, as they entered the self-service elevator.
"I'm on the third floor, room 309," the girl replied.
Opening the door to her room, the girl dropped her purse on a chair and sat down on the bed. Sitting down beside her, Connie wiped her forehead with a handkerchief and leaned back to enjoy the cool room.
"First, tell me something about yourself, where you're from, and why you're down here alone?"
"Well, my name's Bessie Lake, and I'm from Littleton, North Carolina. That's a small town just a few miles south of the Virginia state line. My father's president of the mill there, and usually Mother and him come with me on my vacation, but this year they couldn't, because Mother slipped and broke her ankle, so they let me come along." A smile came over her face as she continued, ' 'You should see Littleton in the springtime. Just enough mountains to make it beautiful. Everybody there is so friendly and nice, not like some big cities I've visited. At first I thought my father was going to make me go to see my aunt in Virginia, not that I don't enjoy visiting Aunt Cora, because she has a lovely farm near Ashland. I also have a boy friend in Ashland, but I wanted to come to Florida this year, so here I am, nearly broke and feeling dirty all over. I know I shouldn't have let that boy come to my room, but I guess I just lost my head."
"You lost your head, virtue, and money, all in one day, didn't you?"
The girl gave a little laugh.
"No, I won't accuse him of taking my virtue, I lost that several years ago. You see, I have a brother who has a child's mind, with a man's body. One day I saw him playing with himself and something went all over me. I slipped into his room and told him I had seen him fooling with himself, then asked him to let me see his body again and he did. The next thing I knew we were both naked with him on top of me. After that, when I needed a man, I would talk my brother Clarence into getting naked and doing it with me. Don't kid yourself, Clarence may have a child's mind, but he's every bit a super man in size. I guess the poor thing would do it all day with me if I'd let him, but after a while I get enough. That's why I can't understand me letting that man talk his way into my room.
Connie sat listening to the girl's weird story as she formed a plan in her mind.
"Bessie, there's a racket going on here, and the boy who stole your money is a member of the gang. You happen to come from a family with money, but daily there are girls who have worked a whole year for a vacation in Florida who lose their money to these skunks. Now, there are two things you can do: Pack your suitcase and go home and forget this awful experience, or you can help save other poor girls from having their vacation ruined by this pack of wolves. I know a man who'll not only give you your money back, but will pay for you an extended vacation, if you're willing to help him. The reason the police can't touch these people is because girls like you are afraid their names will be in the papers and their reputations will be ruined. If you'll sign a complaint and testify against this man who stole your money, then the police can break up this racket, and Daytona Beach will be a safe place for girls to enjoy their vacations. I believe I can promise you that nothing'll be in the papers if you'll have a warrant taken out for this man and testify in court against him."
Bessie looked first down at the floor and then over at Connie.
"Are you a police woman working on a case or something?" she asked.
Shaking her head, Connie smiled again and replied: "No, Bessie, I'm just like you. My vacation was ruined the same way yours was. I fell for their smooth line and was relieved of my money. I'm just determined that these rats get what they deserve. What about it, honey, are you willing to do your part and make them pay?"
Bessie stood and walked over to the window and looked down on the beach. Turning slowly around, she answered:
"This is a beautiful place to enjoy avacation. It's a shame that such beauty God gave us has to be spoiled by dirty men who'd stoop to steal from innocent girls. All right, I'll do my part to put these people in jail. What do you want me to do?"
Connie stood and walked over to the window and looked at the girl.
"Now, don't say you're going through with it and later back out. I'm taking a chance helping you to fight this racket, so make up your mind you're going all the way against them."
The girl laughed and walked back to the bed and sat down.
"Don't worry about me backing down. When we North Carolina girls make up our minds, nothing'll change us."
Connie stood and walked over to the telephone and dialed.
"I'd like to speak with Detective Boatwright." A moment passed, then:
"This is Detective Boatwright speaking. May I help you?" a man's voice announced.
"This is Connie Miller, Mr. Boatwright. I have a girl with me who's not only willing to sign a complaint, but also will appear in court."
Connie paused a moment and smiled over at the girl while listening to the elated Detective.
"I'm sure she'll go through with it. She isn't a regular run-of-the-mill girl on a vacation. Suppose you pick her up at the corner of Atlantic Avenue and First Street, say in about forty-five minutes? ... Swell, Mr. Boatwright, maybe this'll be the link to complete that broken chain. Goodbye."
"Say, if I'm going to the police station, perhaps I had better change into something more suitable," Bessie said, going into a large clothes closet.
Connie sat and watched the girl select a dress and slip the one she was wearing over her head. A pecular feeling came over her as she watched the girl remove her bra and panties. Bessie looked at Connie, bewildered.
"What's the matter? You look so funny," she asked, reaching for a fresh pair of panties.
Connie knew she was losing her head as she rose and walked up to the young girl standing before her, in the nude. Taking the girl by her arms, she turned her around and embraced her tenderly.
"I don't understand what you're doing," Bessie said, puzzled as Connie pulled her up against her body. Pressing her lips against the girl's mouth in a warm kiss, her hand grasped the small, pointed breast.
"Oh, my sweetheart, please forgive me. I don't know what's come over me, but seeing you in the nude, I just had the impulse to take you in my arms," Connie cried, pushing the girl from her.
"I'm not angry with you, in fact, I don't know why I feel the way I do, but I like you kissing me," Bessie said, slipping her arms around Connie's waist.
Grabbing the girl again, Connie's lips sought hungrily for the girl's parted lips as she felt Bessie's body press against hers. Pushing the girl down on the bed, Connie lay down beside her and quickly removed her own halter and bra. Slipping her shorts and panties down her legs, she again took the enticing girl in her arms. For several minutes they clung to each other and explored the other's body, causing their temperatures to rise with each wave of passion.
"Maybe we'd better get up and get dressed," Bessie said, forcing her lips from Connie's mouth.
"No, no, we can't stop now, I've got to have you," Connie pleaded, pressing her lips hard against the girl's mouth who was now trying desperately to free herself from the older girl's grasp.
Slowly Connie began to kiss down on the girl's throat, and then, slipping the pointed breast between her lips, she gently nibbled on the now hard nipple, as her hand slipped over the girl's stomach and down between her legs.
"I don't know what you're doing, but don't stop," Bessie cried.
"Follow me now, my darling," Connie whispered, as the weight of her body pressed down on the frightened, bewildered girl.
"I've read of people doing things like this, but never dreamed it was so wonderful," the girl whispered between kisses.
"Mama Lou was right when she said sex can be beautiful between one of your own sex," Connie said, as her arms tightened around the girl's body.
"Will it last forever?" Bessie asked, in a whisper.
"Yes, yes, this moment is forever," she replied, as their bodies molded together as one.
CHAPTER SIX
Bessie stood waiting on the corner, for the Detective, glancing back over her shoulders several times at Connie who was inside the door of a drugstore. Her hands shook a little at the prospects of going to the police station and confessing that she had allowed a man to sleep with her.
After a few anxious moments, an unmarked police car pulled up to the curb and the Detective got out and walked up to the lone girl. Bessie looked around at Connie, receiving approval that this was the man she was waiting for.
"Miss Lake, I'm Detective Boatwright," he said, smiling, trying to put the frightened girl at ease.
Taking her arm, he led her to the automobile. Looking through the window of the drugstore, he nodded at Connie as the car left the curb.
Passing the police station, the officer drove on for several miles down the boulevard, then stopped before a vacant souvenir and orange juice stand.
"Miss Lake, I've been in police work for over twenty years now, and if I were an author I could write a book about people who're hepped up and ready to sign a complaint when they've been wronged. The police go to work and dig up facts so that the case will stand up in court, then about the time the officer is ready to submit his findings to the Grand Jury, the plaintive either withdraws the complaint or disappears voluntarily, and I might add, sometimes involuntarily. We've been trying to get the goods on these rats for a long time, and until you came along, we haven't been able to find a girl who'll testify against them in court. I'm ready to work twenty-four hours a day if necessary to wipe this racket out, but unless you're ready to go all the way to see that the case is completed, I want no part of it."
Bessie sat silent for a moment, then looked over at the officer.
"Mr. Boatwright, I may be a little North Carolina country girl, and I don't deny that I've done wrong down here in Florida. What I've done can't be erased just by saying I'm sorry. My money's gone and my vacation's ruined because I was foolish, but if lean protect some other girl from these wolves, I care not what it costs me, I'll go all the way. We have a saying in North Carolina that other parts of the country would do well to practice: My word's my bond and I give you my word that this'll be one complaint that won't be withdrawn."
The Detective had a broad, satisfied grin on his face as he turned the car around and headed back toward the station.
After making Bessie comfortable in his office, he called the secretary in and for a while dictated the complaint and received a sworn statement from Bessie.
While they waited for the papers to be processed, the Detective sat back in his swivel chair and smoked his pipe.
"Miss Lake, if you don't mind my saying this, I've had many girls in my office over the years, but you're undoubtedly the tiniest and prettiest one yet. I have a daughter about your size, and she is only twelve years old. Tell me, are all the girls in North Carolina as tiny and pretty as you?"
Bessie blushed a little as she picked at her fingernails.
"No, sir, not all of them. I guess I just turned out to be a runt. I've often wished I was a little taller and weighed about ten pounds more. Some girls have to watch what they eat so they won't gain, but it doesn't matter how much I eat, I stay the same weight," she replied, as a woman entered the office with the warrant and papers typed.
The Detective had Bessie sign the affidavit and other papers and handed them back to the woman.
"Mrs. Coleman, have Paul serve this warrant on the man right away," he ordered. Then turning back to Bessie, he said, "Perhaps your vacation isn't ruined after all. I'm sure Connie told you about Mark Adams, the private detective. He's to meet us outside in about ten minutes to escort you out of town. We don't want anything to happen to our one and only witness, do we? Mark will take you to your hotel to get your things, then to my sister's home near Orlando. She and her husband own a large orange grove and arrangements have been made for you to stay with her until the trial comes up. We don't want to take any chances at this stage of the game," he said, leaving his chair and opening the door.
For several minutes the man and young girl stood on the sidewalk looking up the street. A uniformed policeman walked up to the Detective and touched him on the arm, then said:
"There's an important telephone call for you, sir."
"I'll be back in a moment, wait right here and don't leave until I return. If Mark gets here before I get back, tell him to wait," he said, following the patrolman into the building.
A moment later, a black sedan pulled up to the curb and a man got out and walked up to the girl.
"Miss Lake, I'm Mark Adams, I'm to pick you up and take you to your hotel," he said, smiling down into the girl's face.
"Mr. Adams, Detective Boatwright said for you to wait until he returns," Bessie said.
Suddenly the smile left her face as she felt the nozzle of a gun in her side.
"Make one false move, little girl, and you're dead," he said, pushing her towards the car.
Opening the door, he shoved her into the back seat into the arms of another man. Quickly the man walked around the car and slid under the wheel. The girl looked back as the car left the curb and saw Detective Boatwright walk out of the building and look up and down the street. Going over to a newsboy, he asked:
"Say, son, did you see the young lady who was with me a few moments ago?"
The boy shook his head and pointed.
"Yes, sir, she got into a car with a man and they drove off just as you came out."
Now why in the hell couldn't Mark have waited until I came back? he asked himself, as he started back into the police station. Looking around, his blood ran cold as he saw Mark drive up. Quickly running to the car, he opened the door.
"Did you pick up the girl?" he asked urgently.
"Hell, no, I didn't. I got held up in a traffic jam," Mark replied, in disgust.
The Detective turned and walked swiftly over to the newsboy again.
"Son, that lady that got in the car with the man, can you describe the man and car?"
The boy scratched his head, then beamed.
"Sure I can. The man was about five foot nine and weighed about a hundred and fifty pounds. He was driving a black four-door sedan, a Buick, I believe. They headed south, and I think there was someone in the back seat, but I can't be sure. I didn't pay too much attention to them, because a woman bought a paper just about then and they drove off."
Running to his parked car, the Detective grabbed the microphone and waited a moment for the radio to warm up.
"Attention all cars, especially cars cruising around South Atlantic Avenue. Be on the lookout for a black Buick, year and license unknown. Occupants should be white male about five feet nine .weight one hundred and fifty pounds. White female, age approximately seventeen or eighteen, dark black hair, wearing blue skirt and white blouse. A third occupant may be in the car. This girl was kidnapped in front of PD about five minutes ago."
Mark stood listening to the lookout, biting his lip.
"Why in the hell did you let her out of your sight?" he demanded, as the Detective shook his head.
"How was I to know she'd be snatched before we had a chance to serve the warrant? Something stinks to high heaven, and it comes from in there," he said, pointing toward the station. "Come on and let's beat hell out of that rotten cop who betrayed us."
The two men marched into the station, through the door leading into the private office. Pushing the button on the intercom, he asked his secretary to come in. Mark sat down on one of the easy chairs and crossed his legs watching the Detective pace back and forth. The door opened and the middle-aged woman entered carrying a notebook.
"Mrs. Coleman, what did you do with the warrant I gave you a few minutes ago?" he asked, glaring at the woman.
"I gave it to Paul, your partner, as you instructed. Why? Is there something wrong?"
Walking behind his desk and dropping down on his swivel chair, the Detective rested his elbows on the desk and looked sternly at the woman.
"To your knowledge, Mrs. Coleman, who else knew about that warrant besides you and Paul?"
The woman thought a moment, then shook her greyish brown hair.
"Unless Paul mentioned it to someone, I don't guess anyone else knew about it," she replied, looking curiously at the man.
Reaching for the phone, he blurted:
"Marie, give Car 92 a call and tell him to return to the station and not serve the papers he has, ... yes, that's right."
Hanging up the receiver, the Detective looked at the woman before him.
"Think hard, Mrs. Coleman, a girl's life may depend on your memory. Did you notice anything out there unusual when you gave Paul the warrant?"
The woman studied for another moment.
"Mr. Boatwright, there was something unusual that happened before you gave me the warrant. That young man the newspaper sent down to learn to be a police reporter was hanging around your office door for quite a while. I didn't give it any thought at the time. Then he went into the press office and made a phone call."
Grabbing the telephone, the Detective dialed a number. A moment later a feminine voice announced:
"Daytona Beach Star."
"This is Detective Boatwright, let me speak with your City Editor ... Phil? Carl Boatwright ... I'm fine, thank you. This young man you sent down to study police work, what do you know about his background? ... No, there's nothing wrong, I just wanted to know a little about him ... You say he graduated from high school and was recommended to you highly? ... Well, thanks very much. Oh, by the way, did he phone in a story in the past hour? ... He didn't, ... No, it wasn't much of a story, thanks very much."
Looking over at Mark, the Detective lit his pipe and took several puffs, then looked up at the woman.
"Mrs. Coleman, ask Jimmy to come into the office."
The woman nodded and closed the door behind her. Several minutes later, a short, dark-haired boy in his late teens entered.
"You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Jimmy, how do you like police reporting?"
The boy grinned and nodded his head enthusiastically.
"I like it. I think it's very exciting."
"Suppose you go with Mr. Adams andmefor a ride, and I believe I can really give you something exciting to write about."
The boy frowned and replied:
"I don't know, Mr. Boatwright, the City Editor said for me to hang around the station in case something big breaks. You see, the regular police reporter's off today."
The Detective smiled and waved his hand in the air.
"You won't get any news around here until later this evening. I was just talking with your City Editor, and he asked me to give you all the help I could."
"Well, if that's the case, it's okay by me."
"That's swell. Come along and I promise you some excitement," he said, leaving the room with the boy beside him.
Mark followed them out to the car and got into the back seat.
"Don't you want to sit in front, Mr. Adams?" Jimmy asked.
"No, Jimmy, I believe Carl can teach you better if you're next to him."
For several miles the Detective drove south, then turned west and drove on a sandy road until they came to a grove of oak trees. Parking the car under the shade of an old oak, he got out and motioned for the young man to follow him. The terrain was rough walking in the deep sand. Palmetta bushes and cabbage palms had grown wild in the area for years and created a wilderness of their own.
"Jimmy, in order to become a good police reporter, you must be on your toes and not get excited. About forty-five minutes ago you made a phone call. Now let's keep our head and think clearly. Who was that telephone call to?"
The young man looked first at the Detective and then at Mark.
"Why, er, ... it was to my paper. Any special reason for asking?"
"Yes, Jimmy, a very good reason. To begin with, you didn't call your paper. You called someone else and tipped them off about a warrant going to be served on a rat. It has to be you, Jimmy. Only two other persons knew about that warrant, and I'd stake my life on them. Now, who did you call?"
The boy looked surprised, and for a moment made no reply, then grinned.
"Okay, Mr. Boatwright, I guess I'm caught. I know we aren't supposed to use the telephone for personal calls in the press room, but I didn't see any harm in talking a few minutes to my girl."
A frown came over the Detective's face. Clinching his fists together, he said:
"Jimmy, time is precious, you know and I know you made a telephone call and tipped someone off that we were going to serve a warrant. A young girl was snatched in front of the police station, and, boy, if that girl's killed, I'm going to see that you get everything coming to you as an accessory. Now, who did you call and where the hell did they take that girl?"
Beads of perspiration broke out over the boy's forehead.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything about a girl being snatched or anything else," he said, as if pleading for the Detective to believe him.
Looking over at Mark, Carl shook his head.
"Mark, I need a little exercise, so I'm going to walk through those woods, perhaps you can instill in our young friend the seriousness of what he's done.
Mark slipped off his coat and laid it on a bush. Watching the Detective push his way through the tall weeds, he turned and looked at the frightened boy.
"Now, son, I'm not a police officer, and I'm not bound by the book. I'm going to ask you one time, and only one time, where they took that young girl. You're going to tell me the truth. But the question is, will it be now or after I break every bone in your body?"
The young man began backing away from Mark.
"Now, you wait a minute. I'm a minor, I'm not yet twenty-one, and if you lay a hand on me I'll have you arrested."
Mark grinned at the boy.
"That's right, you can have me arrested, and since I'm a private detective, you can also have my license revoked. That is, after you get out of the hospital and are able to sign your name. No, son, you aren't a minor any longer. The minute you picked up that phone and gave the tip-off about the girl, you ceased being a minor and became a number one, full-grown wharf rat," he said, grabbing a handful of the boy's sport shirt.
"Wait, Mr. Adams, don't hit me, I'll tell you everything I know," Jimmy pleaded quickly. "It's true, I did hear the Detective talking to the girl and knew she'd made a complaint against a friend of mine, so I called him and told him that he'd better get out of town. I told him that some man by the name of Adams was to pick her up in front of the station, but I didn't know they were going to snatch her. Honest, I'm telling the truth."
"All right, so you're telling me the truth. Now, what's the name of the rat you called?"
Jimmy paused a moment and then muttered:
"Newt Towers is his name. He lives somewhere near the beach. I believe it's 342 Poinsetta Circle."
Mark pushed Jimmy from him and picked up his coat. Suddenly the boy started running down the sand road and across a palmetto thicket. For a moment Mark was taken by surprise and stood watching the boy run. Calling to the Detective, he dashed after Jimmy as fast as possible. The Detective ran to the car and seeing Mark chasing the boy, jumped in and quickly turned around and drove at a high speed toward the highway. Turning South on the paved road, he stepped on the accelerator and the car lurched forward. About a half a mile the Detective turned the car down another road and skidded to a stop. Leaving the car, he jumped on the hood and looked out over the palmettos. In the distance, he could see the boy running toward the highway, with Mark in close pursuit.
Slipping out of his coat as he ran, Mark threw it upon the ground and continued to gain on the fleeing boy. As he reached to grab him, the boy turned suddenly and drove a switch blade knife into the pursing man's arm. For a moment, Mark winced in pain, then tackled the boy who had started running again. Falling on top of Jimmy, Mark's fist connected with the boy's mouth, causing blood to roll down his chin. The youth lay still, then slowly opened his eyes.
"Don't hit me again, I give up," he said weakly, as Mark reached down and pulled him to his feet.
"No, you bastard, you don't give up, you've just started," Mark replied, as his fist landed into the boy's stomach.
Jimmy doubled up and fell to his knees, gasping for breath. Again Mark reached down and pulled the boy to his feet and began beating him about the face.
"Don't hit me any more, I haven't any fight left in me," the boy pleaded.
"You bastard, I haven't started beating you yet. Now, tell me where they've taken that girl," he screamed, as his fist caught the boy under his chin and sent him sailing down into a clump of palmettos.
"Honest, I don't know where they've taken her. All I know is that Newt said for me not to worry, that he'd take care of her," Jimmy cried, pushing himself up from the ground.
Mark's fist landed against the boy's lips, knocking several teeth back into his mouth.
"My fist can hold out just as long as your face can. Now, where've they taken that girl?" Mark demanded, as he hit the boy in his eye, causing it to swell.
"All right, don't hit me again, I'll tell you everything I know. They're going to kill her so she can't identify Newt. I don't know where they've taken her or when they are going to kill her, I just know that's what they'll do."
Mark looked at the boy for several moments as the two men attempted to regain their breath.
"Maybe you've told me everything and maybe you haven't. Now, I'm going to beat hell outta you for stabbing me in my arm," he said, as his right hand caught the boy in his stomach again, followed by a left to the chin. The young man gave a half cry and then slumped down to the ground, unconscious.
Running up to them, the Detective looked down at the bruised boy on the ground, and said:
"It looks as if you've just about killed him, Mark."
"No, he ain't dead, but I wish to hell I could kill him. Help me revive him, I'm not going to carry that bastard across this field to the car," Mark said, reaching down with his left arm and grasping the boy by the shirt.
"What happened to your arm?" the Detective asked.
"The young punk stuck me with a knife. That's why I had to beat him up, he wouldn't give up the knife," Mark replied, grinning at the Detective.
The two men half dragged the punk across the field to the car and threw him into the back seat. Mark climbed gingerly in beside Jimmy, as the Detective turned the car around and headed for town.
"This punk's condition may be hard to explain at headquarters, but it'll be all right. I'm going to book him as an accessory to the kidnapping," the Detective remarked, as the young man wiped the blood from his mouth.
Mark stopped by the station and washed his face and hands, then returned to his office. For over an hour he sat staring out the window, as his mind kept going back over the events of the past few days. His thoughts were interrupted by his secretary entering his private office.
"That girl's here wanting to see you, Mr. Adams," she said, with a knowing smile on her face.
The secretary left the room as Connie entered.
"I thought it was understood you weren't to come to my office," he said sternly, as Connie sat down opposite his desk.
"I've tried several times to call you, but you were out. I had to see you, Mark. Something's happened to that girl I turned over to Detective Boatwright. Mama Lou mentioned that one of the girl's who'd been fleeced had made a complaint to the cops, but that she'd been taken care of," Connie said excitedly.
"Yeah, I know, Connie. They grabbed her right from under the cops' nose. Carl's working on the case now, trying to locate her. A young punk working for the newspaper tipped off someone about the girl, but the condition his mouth's in, he won't talk to anyone else very soon."
Noticing the blood on his sleeve, Connie left her chair and knelt down beside him.
"Mark, you're hurt. What happened?"
"Oh, that kid tried to do some carving on me, but it isn't serious. I'm going to have the doctor take a look at it after a while. Connie, I'm afraid you've done all you can do on this case. I didn't worry too much when it was just plain larcency, but now it's kidnapping and perhaps murder, so you better pack your things and get out of this mess."
Slipping her arm around his shoulders, she planted a kiss on his cheek.
"No, Mark, I'm needed more now than before. I may be able to find out what's happened to Bessie. Mama Lou's very talkative when she's had several drinks, and for some reason she trusts me completely. Last night she said that if I stuck with her, it wouldn't be long before she'd take me in as a partner. Quite a promotion, wouldn't you say?"
Mark grinned and pulled the girl up on his lap.
"I'll bet your mother said you would go places in this world. From a petty thief, to a Lesbian, and very soon a partner in a whorehouse. How about me being your first customer?" he said, clasping her breast in his hand.
"All right, Mark, what type of girl would you prefer? Remember, the madam of a whorehouse doesn't fraternize with the customers, but I'm sure any of my girls would please you," she teased.
Mark laughed a little and pressed his lips against her mouth.
"Baby doll, I don't cater to anything but the top girl, so if you are going to be the number one whore, how about a sample?"
"Mr. Adams, we don't give samples, but for you, I could cut my price down to a dime, would that be satisfactory?" she replied.
"Slip them off, baby doll, right down to the bare skin," he said, pushing the girl from his lap.
"Oh, Mr. Adams, you make me blush!" Connie exclaimed, slipping her dress over her head. Quickly removing her slip and bra, she stood with her hands on her hips. "I'm waiting for my dime, Mr. Adams."
Mark laughed and threw a dime on his desk.
"I'll bet this'll be the cheapest piece of tail in the history of prostitution," he said, taking the waiting girl in his arms.
Their lips met and then slowly his hand slid down to the large, round breasts.
"Oh, Mark, hold me close, darling," Connie whispered, as a wave of passion went over her.
"Wait a minute, baby doll, I'd better tell my secretary I mustn't be disturbed," he remembered, reaching for the intercom.
"Won't she become suspicious? Every time I come here you tell her you don't want to be disturbed," Connie said, as Mark informed his secretary that he would be tied up for a while.
Taking Connie in his arms again, he gently laid her down on the soft rug and whispered:
"She won't think we're doing anything, she knows damn well what we are doing."
CHAPTER SEVEN
The young girl slouched over to one side of the car watching the man on the seat beside her. Several times she glanced down at the pistol in his hand, then looked up into his solemn face.
"Why're you doing this to me? What have I done to you?" she asked.
The young man turned his head and stared at the girl.
"You entice a boy to your room and he gives you a good time, then you squawk your head off to the cops, because he takes payment for his favors. We don't like for our girl friends to become too friendly with the cops," he replied, as the driver of the car turned down a narrow asphalt road.
They were leaving the city area and passing country houses set back from the road under spreading moss-covered oaks and palms. Cattle grazed lazily in the fields, and oranges hung from the trees of the occasional groves.
For a while the car continued down the road, then came to a dead end at a highway. Turning to the right, the car gained speed, passing all cars they approached.
"Where are you taking me?" Bessie asked, looking at a road sign that said:
SAMSULA-3 miles
"It isn't very far now," the man driving the car replied, turning north again, up another asphalt road.
They slowed down as they came to the town limits of Samsula and drove slowly so as not to attract attention. Leaving the small town, again the car gained speed until they came to a sand road. Turning down the road, the driver drove slowly over the rough road. Stopping the car under the shade of a large oak tree with grey moss hanging from its limbs, he got out and motioned for the girl and man in the back seat to follow. For a few minutes they walked down a narrow path, until they came to a small, three-room shack. Taking a key from his pocket, the man opened the door and pushed the girl in ahead of him.
Bessie was surprised at the furnishings of the interior of the house. The outside needed painting and weeds had grown over the yard, but the inside was furnished with modern furniture, air conditioned, and the walls were built of sheetrock and painted a light, cool green. Glancing in at the bedroom, she noticed it was decorated in pale blue and white, with a Hollywood bed, and dainty, ruffled dressing table in front of the window.
"Keep your eye on this girl, Elmo, I'm going back to the store at Samsula and buy some groceries. Mama Lou said not to touch her until she came, so no rough stuff," the man said, going out the door leaving Bessie and the man together.
"Well, hot stuff, you just as well sit down and take a load off your feet, it looks as if you and I are going to be here for a while," Elmo said, sitting down on a large, overstuffed chair.
"If you'll let me go, I promise I won't say anything to the police and will tell them I just walked off," Bessie began to plead, walking over to the man.
He reached up unexpectedly and pulled the girl down on his lap.
"Look, sugar, I can't let you go. Mama Lou would have my head blown off if I let you escape. Now just sit here and let's get acquainted. My name's Elmo Smith, Jones, Black, White, or any name you want to call me. How come a pretty little gal like you goes screaming to the cops, just because your boy friend lifted your cash? We gentlemen of the "war" deserve something for our favors, now don't we?" he asked, slipping his arms around her waist.
"Please let me go, I won't say a word to the police," Bessie continued to plead, as he pulled her face down and planted his lips against her mouth.
A smile came over his face as he pushed her from his lap.
"Look, baby, you know what Mama Lou's going to do, don't you? She can't afford to have you yelling about her business. I hate to see a pretty little face like yours blasted with a shotgun and then that gorgeous body planted six feet under the ground. There's one way you can escape that, if you cooperate with me."
Bessie looked down at the grinning man, and said:
"I'll do anything if you'll let me go."
"All right, baby, I might just do that. Now Charlie, he's the man who drove the car, he doesn't care for pretty little chicks like you. You know what he is? Charlie's a baby snatcher. Yeah, a baby snatcher. He told me that one night he was walking along the beach and a kid about twelve years old tried to pick him up. Can you imagine that, a kid just twelve years old wanting a man? She thought she did until Charlie got through with her, then she wasn't so hot after a man. Her parents were playing bingo on the boardwalk, and she took a stroll down the beach, wading in the ocean. This kid speaks to Charlie and they get into a conversation about sea shells and crap like that. The next thing that kid knew she was playing house with Charlie as the husband and she was the virgin bride. It tickled the crap out of Charlie the way she snuggled up to him and thought she was grown, until her little panties were taken off. That kid's old man sure raised holy hell with the cops for not protecting his little innocent daughter. The papers screamed for action for a couple of days, and that's the last we heard about it."
"I don't care about what Charlie's done. You said you'd help me to escape," Bessie said, walking over to a chair and sitting down.
"I didn't say I'd help you escape, I said there was a way you could escape. Now, Charlie'll be back in about twenty minutes, so you better make up your mind quickly. I'm not like Charlie, I'm not a baby snatcher. I like mine young and tender like you. Now, let's you and me slip out of our clothes and enjoy a little fellowship before Charlie gets back, huh?"
Bessie looked at the man for several moments.
"You mean if I let you do it with me, you'll let me escape?""
"Let's say that if we got real friendly, and you cooperate with me, I could go out in the back for a few minutes," Elmo answered.
"How would I get back to Daytona Beach? My bus ticket home and all my clothes are at the hotel."
"That part'll be up to you. Now stand up and slip off that outfit and let's have a look at that tantalizing chassis you've got," he said, motioning for the girl to remove her clothes.
Bessie stood and slowly removed her blouse and skirt. Reaching down, she slipped the half slip down her legs and stepped out of it.
"Now put your hand on your hip and the other one back of your head and parade around for me."
Bessie placed her hand on her hip and her left hand back of her head, then slowly walked around the room.
Elmo licked his dry lips as he watched the girl obey his orders.
"Now, sugarfoot, remove that breast holder and let's see just how much of those pretty things are yours and how much belong to the bra."
Bessie bit her lips as she unsnapped her bra and dropped it on the chair.
"Well, they are yours!" he said in surprise. "Now go into a dance for me."
"I don't know anything about dancing. Can't we do it so I can get out of here?" she protested.
"You either dance for me or you don't leave," he said sharply.
Bessie started dancing around the room attempting to imitate a slave dancer she had seen in the movies.
Elmo got out of the chair, walked up to the twirling girl, and took her roughly in his arms.
"Maybe we could dance together in there," he whispered, nodding his head toward the bedroom.
Shrugging her shoulders, Bessie walked into the adjoining room and sat down on the bed. Elmo followed and closed the door behind them. With a grin on his face, he began removing his shirt and trousers. Slipping his shorts down, he looked at the girl and winked.
"Do I look like Charles Atlas?" he asked, walking over to Bessie and pulling her to her feet.
Bessie made no reply as he took her in his arms and pressed his mouth hard against hers. Slowly his hands slid down her back, over her buttocks, then down on her legs. Forcing her lips apart, their tongues met, sending hot flashes over the half-frightened girl. At first she offered no response, but as the flame of natural desire crawled over her, she slipped her arms around him and began returning his kisses. Their bodies locked together, he gently pushed the girl down on the bed while holding her in his arms.
The warmness of his body sent waves of passion over her as she clung to the man. Forcing his lips from her mouth, he began kissing down over her breast. Slowly his lips moved down over her stomach to her hips.
"Baby, some like their meat cooked well done, some like it rare. Me? I like mine raw like this," he said, throwing his arms around her legs.
For a moment a feeling of nausea came over Bessie as she tried to force the man's body from her. Reaching above her head, her hands clasp the bed post as every muscle in her legs seemed to stretch.
"Not that way," she murmured, as the nausea left her and again lightening seemed to flash over her trembling body.
Watching Elmo's lips kiss back up her body, she clung to him as their lips met.
"Sugar, you've got everything it takes to drive a man wild," he whispered between kisses.
"Take me now, before Hose my mind," she replied, forcing his lips apart.
"You're going to be losing more than your mind," Mama Lou said, standing in the doorway.
Elmo quickly jumped from the bed and reached for his shorts.
"I was just having a little fun, Mama Lou," the man stammered, stepping into his shorts.
"I was standing outside the door and heard you offer to let her escape if she would cooperate with you. You know the rules, Elmo. No one disobeys Mama Lou," she said, opening her purse and withdrawing a small automatic.
The man turned pale and began to plead.
"No, Mama Lou, not that! I just told her I'd let her escape, so I could have a little fun," he cried.
Three loud explosions sent the man doubling up to his knees. Looking up at Mama Lou, bewildered, he fell face down on the floor. Bessie gave a loud scream, as she looked at the body on the floor, lying in a pool of blood.
"So you're the little girl who'd like to ruin my business. I should kill you now, but I much prefer your body to be found floating on the beach. You should know not to swim too far from the shore," she said, grinning at the young girl. Turning to the man beside her, she continued, "Don't let her out of your sight for one minute. It's a good thing I ran into you going to the store. If you need food or cigarettes, I'll see that you have what you need. I want the heat to cool off a little before we dispose of our house guest. I'll send Barney out here with what you need. Save your romance for the suckers on the beach and keep your eye on her."
"Mama Lou, you know I don't have any desire for girls like her," Charlie protested.
Mama Lou laughed a little, slipping the gun back in her purse.
"I know you don't, Charlie; she's too old for you. When this job's over, I'll have my sister's little girl visit me and you may use her as a play toy, but until then, get rid of this body and watch this squealing bitch," she warned, as she left the house and started back up the path toward her car.
Charlie looked over at the frightened girl crouching on the bed and laughed.
"They all think I just like little girls, but when they come small and pretty like you, this is what I like to do," he said, slipping his belt off and wrapping the buckle around his hand. "Some pain hurts, but the sting of leather against tender skin is a sensation you'll never forget."
The young girl lay staring at the man who was advancing toward her, slapping the belt against his hand.
"Now this won't hurt too badly. After I get through beating you, then I'll get naked and you can beat me. You don't know the thrill of hearing leather cut into the skin; I use this wide belt on all my girl friends, and we have so much fun," he said, looking down at the belt.
"No, don't, please don't!" she cried.
"Yes, little girl, Charlie's going to have lots of fun," he replied, raising the belt over his head.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Connie was back at Mama Lou's house several hours before the older woman returned. She'd slipped off her clothes which were damp with perspiration and taken a cool shower. As she lay on the bed in the nude, allowing her thoughts to ramble, not only to the hour she had just spent wrestling on the floor with Mark, but her thoughts also went back to her childhood. She had been happy as a child, in Kentucky, and her thoughts caused her to become a little homesick. It was when she was fourteen that her father had pulled up roots in Kentucky and moved to New York. Connie didn't like the big city with its buildings reaching into the clouds, the noise of the traffic with cab drivers blowing their horns and shouting at other motorists.
Many times she'd wondered why the police permitted the cabbie's to take over the streets, disregarding the rights of others. After her father died of a heart attack, her mother moved back to Kentucky and later remarried. She liked her new father and they became very close. The affection he displayed for the young girl caused many an eyebrow to be raised and whispers behind backs. She knew that back-yard gossip had it that her stepfather was having an affair with her, but what the old forked tongues didn't know was that outside of his overly affection for her, not having had a daughter of his own, not one time did he make an improper move.
She had always accused herself of being overly sexed, but would shrug her shoulders with a what-to-hell attitude. She wouldn't have refused him if her stepfather had wanted to play around with her. Any man who would take on the responsibility of raising a teenage girl and the expenses that go with it should have the privilege of patting the girl on her butt once in a while.
Lying on the bed, she unconsciously let her hand slide down her body as she remembered the day she had walked in on her mother and stepfather. They had been so busy with each other, they hadn't heard the door open to their bedroom. Connie stood and watched them for a few moments, then quietly backed out of the room.
There was daylight behind the Venetian blinds she had closed when she came in. The room lights were off. She got out of the bed and walked over to the dresser and looked at the dark image in the mirror. Slowly her hands caressed her body and rested on her stomach. She felt weak, and yet rested, full but hungry, dirty and clean at the same time.
Opening the door to the bedroom, she walked into the living room and sat down at the telephone table. She cared not if one of the young men came in and saw her naked, she didn't feel like dressing just to use the telephone. Connie wanted Steve, and yet she didn't. In fact, she didn't know exactly what she wanted, but whatever it was, Steve would be the next best thing.
Dialing the number he had given her, she waited several seconds for the hotel operator to answer. Several times she heard his room telephone ring, then laid the receiver back on its cradle. Going back into the bedroom, she dropped down on the bed again and lay looking up at the ceiling. Hearing the front door open, she turned her eyes toward the door, as Mama Lou entered and smiled down at her.
"Now that's the prettiest sight I've seen today. Just enough light coming through the blinds to show your gorgeous body to me. I've had a hectic afternoon, and after a cool bath I'm going to follow your example and lie down and rest," she said, laying her purse on the desk.
Connie watched the woman slip out of her clothes and enter the bathroom. For a while she lay watching the bathroom door, anxiously waiting for Mama Lou to return. A sensational feeling came over Connie as her eyes followed the woman to her vanity. Takingthe pins from her hair, Mama Lou began slowly pulling the brush in long strokes through her hair.
A few minutes later the woman lay down beside the young girl and closed her eyes to rest. Connie looked over at the large, round breasts, and, acting upon impulse, laid her hand on Mama Lou and began massaging the firm brown nipple. Mama Lou opened her eyes and looked at the girl, smiling.
"Do I attract you so much that you can't wait until I'm rested?" she asked, as Connie slid her body closer to the older woman.
"Before you came in, I was nervous and didn't know what I wanted. Now I know that it was you my subconscious mind was calling for."
The woman laughed.
"Connie, the human body is a funny piece of machinery. Everyone knows the body has a heart, liver, and other parts they teach you in school, yet there are parts about the body the schools fail to teach young children. You can't blame it all on the schools, because even parents whose every thought is on what is best for their child won't discuss sex with them. Some mothers would scream to high heaven if a teacher discussed the sex glands in the body. They actually dread for the time when their little innocent daughters reach their twelfth birthday, because they'll have to explain why certain precautions must be taken each month. To them, sex is something nasty and evil, not natural as the Creator intended for it to be. I had an uncle who actually purchased some books on sex and gave them to his son so the young man would know what to do on his wedding night. The funny part about the story is that his new daughter-in-law gave birth to a child seven months after the wedding. Children should be taught from babyhood that there'll be times when the normal function of the body will demand an outlet for certain desires."
Connie lay her head on the woman's shoulder, as her fingers crawled down Mama Lou's body.
"Mama Lou, why is it that some women crave another woman's body? It doesn't seem possible that a woman would want the same thing she has herself. I can understand why a man enjoys a woman or a woman wants a man. Their bodies are different, and it's natural for them to be in each other's arms, but what we are doing now just isn't natural."
Mama Lou turned on her side facing the girl, causing Connie to lay her head back on the pillow.
"Now you're talking like the average person who's ignorant along this line. You don't know why you want me, but you know that you do. A little girl doesn't know why it feels good to rub herself, she only knows that she enjoys it. I don't want to compare the human race with dogs, but did you ever watch a female dog in heat? She enjoys six or eight male dogs following her around for the opportunity to hop on. Then when she's ready, it matters not to her which dog it is, first come, first served. Now, the so-called intelligent female, namely a woman, enjoys a man desiring her body. Like the female dog, she wants to tease the man and cause him to become excited so that he'll bestow his love upon her. Then when she's ready, together they enjoy the height of love. Now, that sounds wonderful, doesn't it? Only that isn't the way it works. The husband comes home and half way gives his wife a peck on the cheek and demands his dinner. When they go to bed he remembers what pretty legs a girl in the office has, so he suddenly desires satisfaction. Just like a rabbit he hops on, and before his wife knows what's happened, he has turned over and is snoring. She lies in bed nervous and feeling a little shame for playing with herself. That's where people like me come into the picture. There are two ways to recruit Lesbians into our society. Catch them when they are young, and mama has failed to instruct them, or catch them in a nervous state from a onesided sex life."
Slipping her arms around Connie, the woman gently pressed her mouth against the young girl's lips, while her hand slid slowly down her body between Connie's legs.
"I know what you mean, Mama Lou. No man could cause me to have the feelings I'm having now," Connie whispered, as she threw her arms around the woman.
Mama Lou gave a half laugh as the weight of her body pressed down on the young girl.
"Some men think they are really giving a girl something, when all they are doing is working them up for another woman," she said, as her lips met the girl's quivering mouth.
Connie wanted to fight the crawling sensation that was taking command of her body, and yet the desire to let herself go and give the woman every movement she had seemed stronger than her will to resist. She wanted to curse herself for being so weak and not controlling her feelings. The sight of the woman's nude body and the relief she felt she needed blanked out all resistance.
"You're wonderful, Mama Lou," she cried as the woman threw her leg over the young girl.
"All my young fems feel I am wonderful. Just give me a girl for five minutes and she'll always plead for Mama Lou. You think I'm conceited, then just say so and I'll leave you alone."
Connie shook her head and pulled the woman closer down on her.
"If I had met you when I was about fourteen, I'd still be a virtuous girl. No man would have ever touched me, just someone like you," she said, closing her eyes as the movements of the woman began.
A while later, Mama Lou had dressed and was working on her books, while Connie took another shower and dressed.
"What's going to happen about that girl who went to the police?" she asked innocently, watching the woman closely.
"That's being taken care of, my dear. That young bitch won't appear in court against anyone. At the proper time, we're going to take her swimming in the ocean. It's a pity to do away with such a lovely creature, but business is business, and she got in the way of our enterprise."
"Where are they holding her?" Connie ventured, attempting to sound disinterested.
"Oh, I have a little place not too far from DeLand I use often when I want to get away from everything," Mama Lou replied, without thinking.
Connie walked over and leaned down, giving the woman a kiss on her cheek.
"I'm going to work the bars and see what I can pick up."
The older woman turned and looked up at the girl and grinned.
"I must say you are a glutton for punishment. Haven't you had enough for one day?"
"This is strictly business," Connie winked, as she closed the door.
Entering a hotel lobby, she went directly to a phone booth and placed a call to Mark.
"May I speak with Mr. Adams, please."
"Whom may I say is calling?" the secretary asked.
Connie turned up her nose at the telephone and said:
"Just tell him that an old friend passing through town would like to say hello."
"Hello, old friend, passing through town," Mark said, a moment later.
"Mark, why do secretaries always ask whose calling and to state their business? If I wanted to talk with that gal I wouldn't have asked for you," Connie pouted, feeling angry.
Mark laughed into the instrument.
"Sometimes it does aggrevate you, I know. When I make a call I don't think it's a secretary's damn business who I am or what I want, but they all do it. I guess it's to keep from disturbing a boss when he's busy."
"Well, I don't think any man is so important that he can't be courteous enough to talk with anyone who has taken the time to call," Connie replied, still feeling indignant.
"You didn't call me to low rate secretaries, what's on that pretty little mind of yours?"
"Mark, Mama Lou told me that they are holding Bessie in a place between Daytona Beach and DeLand."
There was a pause for a moment, then Mark came back on the line.
"I was reaching for a map, Connie, is the reason I didn't answer you. Now let's see just where that place could be. Did she mention any other town or cross road the place might be near?"
"No, just a place she owned near DeLand."
"That could be any place. She probably has it listed in another name. Watch your step, baby doll, you're playing with fire now, and I don't want you to get burned," he said, blowing several kisses into the phone.
Dropping another dime into the telephone, Connie dialed Steve's hotel again. After talking with him for a few minutes, he agreed to meet her in front of the hotel she was calling from. Later, sitting beside him in his car, they drove across the bridge into Daytona and turned left on Highway 1 towards New Smyrna Beach. Turning his attentions toward Connie, Steve asked:
"What's the matter, kid, you look worried."
Connie smiled a little, causing a small dimple to form.
"Steve, I'm in the middle of something big. Something I can't handle by myself and I need your help."
"Suppose we drop by that bar and have a drink, then you can get this off your chest," he proposed, turning the car into the driveway of the bar.
After the waiter had brought their drinks, Connie started at the beginning and brought the man up to date on what had happened since she came to Florida.
"So that's why you stole my bathing trunks. You thought I was a member of the gang trying to steal your money," he said, roaring. "The thing I can't understand is why this city detective and the private eye would let you risk your life to do their job."
"It isn't their job, Steve, it's mine. Someone had to get on the inside and expose them, and since I was one of their victims, I feel the revenge belongs to me."
The man looked down at his drink and slowly turned it around in his hand.
"You say this Mama Lou has a place between DeLand and Daytona Beach? There are several ways to get to DeLand from Daytona Beach, but the main two roads are Highway 92 and the Interstate 4. However, they could go down Number 1 to New Smyrna Beach and over 44 to DeLand. Now if I wanted a hideaway between DeLand and Daytona Beach, where would I search?"
For a few minutes Steve sat staring down at the drink in his hand. Looking up at the girl across from him, he smiled.
"I've got a hunch and it may just work, wait here a moment while I use the telephone.
Connie watched him leave the booth and walk up to the pay telephone nearby. For a few minutes he was busily engaged in a conversation, then returned to the booth.
"Go easy on your drink, we may be here for a while. I can't understand why that detective or private eye didn't think of it. Since DeLand is the county seat for this section, then the property you say Mama Lou owns must be recorded at the Court House. I called a friend of mine in DeLand who is a lawyer and he's going over to the Court House and check to see what property with a house on it has been purchased in the past several years. There shouldn't be too many pieces around here that have changed hands lately. It doesn't matter whose name they are recorded in, if Mama Lou's property is recorded, then my friend will find it."
"Steve, I don't know what you think of me for doing what I've done, but I just couldn't help myself. I guess I'm some sort of freak or something to allow men to use me to satisfy their lust," she said softly.
Steve reached across the table and took the girl's hand.
"Listen, honey, we all have our weaknesses, yours happens to be sex, mine is a mixture of sex and the desire to become wealthy. I've had my fling over the years and it hasn't always been with prostitutes. When I was inhigh school, I talked my sweetheart into shacking up with me every week end. That kid had never been touched until I got hold of her. The last time I heard from the girl, she was a prostitute back home. Perhaps I started her on the road to that kind of life, and perhaps not, so you see I haven't been a little angel myself."
"I don't know why I'm worried about what type of girl you think I am, because, after all, I'm not your girl, but for some reason in spite of what I've done, I want your respect more than anything else."
Steve gave Connie's hand a slight squeeze and winked at her.
"Oh, but you are my girl, whether you know it or not. I made up my mind in the hotel in DeLand that you were my girl and that some day we were going to be married."
Shocked, Connie quickly looked up.
"You can't mean that, Steve. To you, I'm just another girl to play around with. The idea of you and me getting married is silly talk."
"Have it your way, Connie, but I'm going to say something now I've never said before except to one other girl. I love you, darling, and when this is all over I want you to marry me."
Connie dropped her eyes down to the table and wiped a tear rolling down her cheek. Looking up at the man, she forced a laugh and said:
"That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, even if you don't mean it. Thanks for making me feel at least halfway clean."
"Now you listen to me, Connie Miller. I don't give a damn if you've screwed every two-legged person in the State of Florida. I love you and when this is over and those dirty bastards are behind bars, I'm taking you back with me as my wife."
For over an hour the two sat sipping their drinks while waiting for the lawyer's call. Their conversation was interrupted by the telephone ringing. The bartender motioned for Steve. Walking back to the booth, he said:
"We have several possiblilities to work on. Two places changed hands between DeLand and Daytona Beach in the past year. One is near a place called Lake Helen and the other is located beyond a small town called Samsula. The funny part about this is that both places are owned by the same person. It seems the woman is named Grace Moreland and lives near Daytona Beach."
Cold chill bumps came over Connie as she realized they had reached pay dirt.
"Yes, I've met Grace, she was the one who was blackmailing those married women after taking their pictures. Well, which one do we try first?"
"Whatever we do, we have to be careful, because this isn't a game of hide and seek. Let's go to a filling station and getaroadmap, then see where these places are," he said, leaving a large bill on the table.
Parking the car when they reached New Smyrna Beach, Steve unfolded the road map they had picked up on the way. While he studied the map, Connie looked up and down the street, watching the local people go in and out of the stores. Why couldn't he land with so much beauty bring happiness instead of worry and trouble. The good Lord had placed beauty here that could not be found anywhere else in the country, and man had to spoil it with greed for money. The palms offering shade along each side of the street added picturesque beauty to the beautiful homes with their flowing lawns. Turning her attention back to the map, she followed Steve's finger along the dark, blue lines.
"This is where we are and to the right is Samsula, and a few miles to the left is Lake Helen. We'll cast about in Samsula first and see what that town brings us," he said, as he started the car.
They crossed the railroad tracks and headed west. Passing a large, shady park on the left, Connie smiled and called Steve's attention to it.
"Those children playing on the swings while their parents laze under the trees little realize what's happening so close to their community. While they take life easy, a young girl is about to be murdered because she had nerve enough to do what was right," the girl said, still looking back at the park.
For several miles they drove in silence, each thinking of the danger ahead. Turning the car down another road, they drove for a few minutes until they came to a small town. Steve parked in front of a grocery store and got out. Several men sat around on cane-bottom chairs, talking, as he entered. Their conversation ended abruptly as they stared at the stranger. Walking up to a short, chubby man behind the counter, Steve greeted the man.
"I have a friend who bought a place near here about a year ago, and my wife and I were invited to visit her, but we've lost the directions she gave us. Her name is Grace Moreland."
The man rubbed his bearded chin, then replied:
"I don't recollect anyone by that name around here, but I believe there's a house near Blackwillow Creek that was bought about a year ago, but I don't know who bought it. Lately several strangers have been coming in to buy groceries. Funny kind of people, wouldn't talk much. They were young men about twenty-five or thirty. This morning a kinda fat woman in her forties came in and bought a pack of cigarettes. I hadn't seen her in a long time until then."
"Where is this place you mentioned?" Steve asked, glancing around the store.
Looking over at a glass showcase, he noticed several pistols and three shotguns on display.
"The best of my recollection, you go down this road about three miles and turn to the right at a dirt road where there's a sign that says 'no trespassing'. Go down that road as far as you can, then you'll have to walk down a path to get to the house. The place used to belong to Jeff Hunt, but he sold it about a year ago and moved back to Georgia."
Steve walked over to the showcase and looked at the guns for a moment. Turning, he asked the storekeeper: "Are these guns for sale?"
The man quickly walked from behind the counter, grinning.
"They shore are, partner. I keep a few guns and ammunition just in case someone wants to buy one. Of course, they are second-hand guns that I took in on grocery bills one time or another, but they shoot all right," he volunteered, opening the case and taking two of the pistols from the rack.
"How much for this one?" Steve asked, snapping the trigger on a .38 pistol.
The man scratched his head and grinned again.
"Well, I don't know, would eighteen dollars be too much? The man I got it from owed me sixteen on a grocery bill, and I figure on making a couple of dollars profit."
Steve smiled, then opened his wallet and laid a twenty on the counter.
"I'll take it along with a box of ammunition," he said, as the man quickly laid a box of shells on the counter.
He slipped the gun in his coat pocket with the ammunition, took his change, and left the store. Starting the car, he drove down the road for about a mile, then stopped and took the gun from his pocket and loaded it.
"I didn't know you carried a gun," Connie said.
"I just bought this one back there at that store, in case we need it," he explained, dropping the gun back into his pocket.
Steve slowed the car down as he saw the no trespassing sign nailed to a pine tree. Turning the car down the sand road, he drove cautiously until they came to a clearing in the woods. Quietly they got out and crept slowly down the path until they sighted the shack. Walking up to a window, the man looked in, then shaded his eyes for a better view of the room. A young girl was sitting on a chair, tied securely with ropes.
"Is that the girl?" he whispered.
Connie peered in and nodded her head.
"Yes, that's Bessie. Poor thing's tied to that chair," she said, as he turned her head and muffled a cry.
"You two looking for somebody?" the young man said, pointing a pistol at them.
"No, we aren't looking for anyone, we've found her," Steve answered, nodding towards the window.
"Now, ain't that too bad you've had such good luck? However, it was getting lonesome around here. That kid in there won't talk to me, so you and the lady just step inside, and we'll have a nice chat," he said, waving the gun toward the door.
"If it's all the same to you, we'd rather be on our way," Steve said, walking toward the door.
"I'm sure you would, but Mama Lou may have other plans for little stool pigeon," he said, looking at Connie.
Steve gave Connie a gentle push as they entered the door. Bessie looked up in surprise to see the two enter the house, followed by her guard. Running to the girl, Connie knelt down beside her.
"What have they done to you?" she asked, looking at the red whelps on the girl's arms.
"Nothing's happened to your friend, Connie, we just had a little fun with the strap. Didn't we, sugar?" the man said, motioning for Steve to sit on one of the chairs.
"I heard of your type of fun, Charlie. Mama Lou told me all about what a fiend you are," Connie said.
"Mama Lou's another one who talks too much when she's drinking," Charlie said, as he went over to the girl and began untying the ropes. "All right, Connie, take this rope and tie your boy friend to that chair. I can keep my eyes on two of you, but when there's a third one, it makes it complicated," he said, throwing the rope toward Connie.
She reached down and picked up the rope and started toward Steve.
"Now, my friend, just hold your arms behind that chair so the little girl can tie you securely."
As Connie knelt before Steve fumbling with the rope, he kept his eye on the man with the gun.
"In my right pocket is the pistol, get it and shoot straight," he whispered.
"I've never shot a gun, I don't know how," Connie answered desperately, as she leaned over and wrapped the rope loosely around him.
Quickly Steve pushed Connie aside and reached for the gun in his pocket, while jumping behind the large chair. Like a flash, the gun was out and a bullet tore into the wall behind the gangster. Charlie quickly jumped behind the chair Bessie was in and returned the fire.
"All right, wise guy, throw the gun out or this girl gets it behind the ear," Charlie yelled, as Steve pointed the weapon at Charlie's shoulder.
"Don't do it, mister, shoot him," Bessie screamed, throwing herself on the floor.
Steve squeezed the trigger again, but the gun failed to fire. Several times he squeezed, then looked down at the pistol. The firing pin had broken after the first shot.
"That does it, wise guy," Charlie said, standing and cocking the hammer back on his gun. "Come out from behind that chair or this girl gets it."
Throwing the gun on the floor, Steve slowly crawled from behind the chair and sat down again.
"Now, bright girl, tie that bastard up good and tight before I blow his damn brains out."
Connie struggled to her feet and began tying Steve's hands behind the chair. Pushing the pistol in his belt, Charlie reached down and pulled Bessie to her feet. After giving the girl several slaps across her face, he pushed her back down in the chair.
"Why you little bitch, telling him to shoot me, I ought to beat hell outta you," he bellowed, drawing his fist back.
"What makes bastards like you tick?" Steve said. The young man laughed a little, then ambled over to the sofa and flopped down.
"You shouldn't talk to a war hero that way, mister, I lost two years of my life serving our country in the Army. It's true I didn't go across like some of the other heroes, but I did my part keeping the girls satisfied while their boy friends were away. Now, wouldn't you call me a hero, too?" he asked, laughing at Steve.
Looking over at Bessie, Charlie motioned for her.
"Come here, sugar baby, and show the nice man what pretty legs you have."
The grin left his face as Bessie slowly got up and walked over to the sofa.
"Now pull up that skirt real high and let's watch Mister Hero get all hot and bothered."
Bessie bit her lips and stood looking down at the floor. Suddenly Charlie gave her a slap across her rear end and demanded:
"When I say show your legs, you jump."
Reluctantly, the girl raised her skirt, exposing her white legs.
"Wouldn't you just love to play around with something like that? Watch how much she loves me," he said, pulling the helpless girl down on his lap.
While the man was abusing the girl, Steve kept working at the ropes binding his hands.
"Please, don't," Bessie cried, as the man's hand began to squeeze her small breast.
"Boy, it's nice to have a pretty young filly at your mercy. All I have to do is snap my fingers and she strips down to the bare skin, don't you, baby? All right, I'm snapping my fingers, get up and peel those clothes off, or had you rather have another fling with the strap?" he mused, grinning up into the frightened girl's face.
"All right, bright boy, you've shown your power, now leave that kid alone," Steve demanded.
"Little boy, I haven't begun to show you what power I have right now. All right, doll, let's show our guest what's under those clothes."
Bessie slipped off her blouse and slowly lowered her skirt. Steve was surprised the girl didn't have her bra and panties on as she stepped out of her skirt.
"Now, little Connie, you strip and our guest and I will decide which girl has the most of offer," Charlie said, waving the gun towards Connie.
"Go kiss a dog's butt, you no good bastard," Connie retorted, spitting toward the man. "You aren't going to let us get out of here alive, and I'm not giving you the pleasure of ordering me around. Go on and shoot me and get it over with. What's the difference if you do it or Mama Lou?"
"Well, now, hasn't the little girl got spunk. You know I can't shoot you unless it's necessary, because Mama Lou would be mad as blazes if she were denied that pleasure. However, a bullet in that pretty little leg of yours would prevent you from escaping, and I don't think she'd mind that. Now stand up and strip," he said sternly, pointing the pistol at Connie's legs.
Connie sat for a moment undecided as to what to do. Looking over at Steve for help, he nodded his head.
"Do what he says, Connie, his mind is so warped he'd enjoy putting a bullet in your leg," he said, looking at the man as the ropes around his hands began to give a little.
Connie stood and slipped her dress over her head and threw it on the chair, while Charlie stood laughing at her.
"It's too bad I'm not a little girl you'd get so much more pleasure out of the show," she said, pulling her slip over her head.
"Yeah, now ain't that the truth. Why can't little girls stay little just for gentlemen like me?"
As Connie removed her bra, Bessie slowly crept toward the kitchen. Glancing over the man's shoulder, Connie saw the girl enter the kitchen and slowly open the back door.
"Maybe you'd prefer me turning around so you'll get a back view first," Connie said, turning her back to the man.
"No, baby, just turn around and slip the little panties off," he replied, glancing back over his shoulder. "Where in the hell did that bitch go?" he screamed, as he quickly caught Connie by the arm and pulled her toward the kitchen door.
"I can't go out there naked," she protested, attempting to pull her arm free from the man's grasp.
"That little demon did, and so can you. You either keep up with me, or I'll put a bullet through both your legs," the outraged man said, dragging Connie through the back door.
Steve worked frantically to free himself. Little by little the rope gave until he was able to slip one hand free. Reaching around, he untied the other hand, jumped from the chair, and ran out the back door.
The yard had grown up in tall weeds and the path Charlie and Connie had taken was easy to follow. The thought of what he would do if he caught up with the man never crossed his mind. Steve ran as fast as possible through the weeds until he came to the woods. Stopping for a moment, he turned his head in different directions, trying to hear the sound of footsteps. Quickly he ran through the woods, hoping he was pursuing in the right direction. For several minutes he ran, then stopped to get his breath. He knew by now if he was on the right track, he should have caught up with them, since Charlie was forced to drag Connie along.
Gasping for breath, he started walking south, hoping that Bessie had run that way in order to reach the highway and summon help. For several minutes he walked, stopping often to catch a sound that might lead him in the right direction.
"Just to get my hands on that pimply face bastard," he swore to himself.
For over an hour Steve searched diligently, but to no avail. Walking back, he finally came to the high weeds back of the house. He approached silently, then, hearing nothing, entered and searched each room, hoping the man had returned.
He finally gave up the search and walked back to where his car was parked. Stopping abruptly, he stared at the clearing and began cursing himself.
"That's why I couldn't find them. That no-good worm backtracked with the girls and took the car," he muttered, walking up the dusty road toward Samsula.
Twenty minutes later, he walked into the store and stood looking at the grinning storekeeper. Reaching over the counter, he grabbed the man by his shirt.
"Look here, you thieving sonofabitch. That broken pistol you sold me has just cost me my girl and perhaps the life of another. Why didn't you tell me the firing pin was broken?"
"Wait, mister," the scared clerk squeaked, "I didn't know anything was wrong with that gun. I took it in on a bill, honest I did."
"All right, mister," Steve said, releasing his grip on the man, "I don't care about the money I paid, I've got to get back to Daytona Beach in a hurry, two girl's lives may depend on it. Where can I rent a car?"
"Well, there ain't no car rental around this neck of the woods, but if it's that important," he said, taking off his apron, "I could take you in my truck."
"Okay, pop, come on and let's go," Steve said, taking the man by the arm and leading him toward the door.
"Bert, look after the store while I'm gone," the old man called, as he walked quickly toward a truck parked beside the store. "
Forty-five minutes later, Steve was sitting in Detective Boatwright's office telling of the events that had happened that afternoon.
"I wish the public would leave investigating matters up to the police. It was foolish of you to have taken the girl to that house with a broken pistol. However, the damage is done now, so the next step is to call in the Sheriff's office to help us locate the girls, but from now on, please leave police work to those who are trained along these lines."
"Look, Mr. Boatwright, I may have done wrong trying to help Connie locate that girl, but lecturing me on the evils of playing cop isn't finding those two girls," Steve said angrily. "Now, what're you going to do, sit on your butt and wait until some citizen finds their bodies somewhere?"
"Sometimes, my friend, when it seems the police aren't doing anything on a case, that's when the public would be surprised just how much work is really being done. We can pick Mama Lou, as you call her, up on various charges, but a shyster would have her out within twelve hours. When the time comes, this old gal and all her gang will be behind bars charged with something that'll stick. In the meantime, just stay out of police business and give us a chance," the Detective advised, as Steve stood to leave.
"All right, Officer, I'll give you a chance, but if those girls aren't found soon, then I'm calling on the Governor, the F.B.I, or any other organization to search for them," Steve vowed, pointing his finger at the Detective as he left.
Shaking his head, Detective Boatwright looked over at his partner and said:
"He's right, you know, if those girls aren't found soon, they'll never be found alive."
CHAPTER NINE
When Bessie slipped out the back door of the shack, she began running as fast as her short legs would carry her. The whelps on her back sent stinging pains over her body as the high weeds brushed against her nude body. Several times she was forced to stop and pick a sandbur from her bare feet as the needle-like weed stuck into the tender flesh.
Once in the woods, she ran south, hoping to find a road or house where she could appeal for help. It mattered not that she was nude, because several times she muttered to herself that a naked girl looks better than a dead girl.
Holding on to Connie's wrist, Charlie half dragged the girl along side of him, in pursuit of Bessie. Not once did he allow the girl to stop and remove the painful sandburs being pressed into the sole of her feet. Unfortunately she had slipped off her sandals, when she was forced to remove her clothes in the shack.
Several minutes later they came upon Bessie on the ground, rubbing her ankle. In her haste she had stepped in a hole, turning her ankle.
"Now, you little bitch, get to your feet," the man demanded, giving the girl a kick in her side.
Connie reached down and helped Bessie to her feet, then turned and looked at the man.
"She's sprained her ankle, we'll have to help her back to the shack."
Reaching down, cursing, the man picked Bessie up in his arms.
"I'm going to carry her back to the shack, but if you make one move to run, I'll not only put a bullet in your back, but I'll finish off this bitch, too."
Walking back toward the shack, Charlie stopped and motioned for the two girls to remain quiet. For a moment he listened, and, hearing footsteps running toward them, he quickly jumped down into a ditch that had one time been a small creek. Taking out his pistol, he pointed it at the girls and threatened them with death if one sound was made.
Connie bit her lips to keep from crying out as Steve stopped several yards from them, hoping to hear their running footsteps. A cold, weak feeling came over her as she watched him run in the direction they had left.
"You did a great job tying him up," he fumed, giving Connie a slap across her face with the back of his hand.
Picking Bessie up again, the man walked as quickly as possible with his heavy burden back to the shack. Entering the house, he dropped the girl on the sofa and threw her clothes at her.
"Get your clothes on as fast as you can," he ordered, standing in the doorway watching for Steve's return.
Several minutes later, picking Bessie up in his arms again, he ordered Connie to lead the way up the path to Steve's car. Opening the back door, he threw the defenseless girl on the back seat and told Connie to drive.
"One false move outta you and it'll be curtains for you both. Turn this car around and let's get outta here. We'd be in a hell of a fix if that dumb bastard hadn't left the keys in the car," he said, pushing Connie into the front seat.
The girl turned the ignition key, hoping something would be wrong and it wouldn't start. The motor turned several times, then caught up. She put the car in gear and slowly drove up the sand road until they came to the pavement. Taking a left turn she kept the speed under thirty-five until they reached Samsula. She held her breath as she looked at the grocery store and saw a state trooper standing on the porch drinking a Coke.
"Just you try it," Charlie whispered, watching the trooper as Connie glanced down on the seat beside her and saw a half pack of Steve's cigarettes.
Reaching down, she picked up the pack and took one, throwing the pack out her window as they passed the store. The trooper looked at the trash in the road, then ran to his patrol car, turned around, and gave chase. Switching on the dome red light, he stepped on the siren, as Connie pulled the car to the side of the road. The man stopped his car in front of the automobile and got out.
"I'm sitting on this pistol, and one move out of you and there'll be three dead bodies on the road," Charlie informed her under his breath, as the officer ambled up to the car.
"I notice you have an out-of-state tag, but that doesn't give you any excuse to litter up the roads of Florida. May I see your driver's license, please?" the trooper said, tipping his hat to Connie.
"Officer, I apologize for my sister throwing paper on the road, I'm sure she didn't think. You see, my girl here has just accepted my proposal of marriage, and we're all three a little excited at the moment," Charlie said quickly, before Connie had a chance to speak.
The trooper looked at Bessie in the back seat and smiled.
"Well, if that's the case, I guess lean overlook such a petty offense. Suppose you turn this car around and drive back to the store and pick up that cigarette pack, and maybe next time you'll think," he said, pointing toward the store.
Connie backed the car into a side road and returned to the store, stopping alongside the cigarette pack. Opening the door, she reached down and picked it up, biting her lips as the trooper sat in his car smiling at her.
"Okay, now turn this buggy around and drive very slowly toward the highway," Charlie ordered, nodding toward the trooper.
Stopping the car at the junction, she waited until several on-coming cars passed, then turned in the direction of New Smyrna Beach. Upon Charlie's orders, she kept the car's speed at fifty, until they reached the town. Stopping at the red light, she looked across the road and saw the familiar green and white car of Volusia County's Sheriffs department.
For a moment she was tempted to run the red light, but knew she would be placing the deputy's life in danger as well as their own. Impatiently she waited until the light changed, then turned towards Daytona Beach.
In the back seat, Charlie kept his arm around Bessie as his hand fell to her breast.
"There's no reason we can't enjoy this ride," he said, giving the girl's breast a hard, playful squeeze.
Bessie jumped at the excruciating pain inflected as Charlie's fingers tightened around the tender muscles of her breast.
"Please, you don't know how that hurts," she whimpered, biting her lips.
"It doesn't have the pleasant sensation the strap has, does it?" Charlie asked, gripping the breast tighter.
Bessie drew every muscle in her body tight as she attempted to endure the suffering the man was bestowing upon her.
"Give Charlie a nice, long, wet kiss," he said, pulling the girl's head over to him.
Bessie pressed her mouth against his dry lips. Releasing her breast, he slipped both arms around her, forcing his tongue into her mouth.
"Was all this worth the few measly dollars you lost?" he asked, releasing the girl.
She looked at Charlie a moment, forgetting the pain her swollen ankle was causing.
"Sooner or later," she said, giving a faint grin, "you'll be working these hot roads with a guard over you. I'm not afraid any more; what you do to me doesn't matter. What is important to me is the knowledge that death will bring an end to all the pain and suffering you've caused me, but you'll have a lifetime to suffer for what you're doing."
"Spoken like a true rebel. My great grandfather was in the Civil War, and he had the same attitude that you have. If the cause is worth fighting for, it's worth dying for. Only this time, there's no reason to die except as punishment for running to the cops. After this pretty little body is cold and stiff, our enterprise will continue to thrive on girls' vacation money. Now, why couldn't you have accepted your loss like a good little girl, then there would've been no problem?" Charlie said, attempting to pull the girl back into his arms.
"Get your slimy hands off of me," Bessie demanded, giving him a sharp slap across his face.
The man grabbed the girl in his arms, forcing her head down on his lap. Several times he hit her in the face, causing her eye to swell.
"If you hit her one more time, I'll drive this car into the next building we come to," Connie said, pressing down on the gas peddle.
"All right, all right, slow the car down. You win this round, but I just hope and pray Mama Lou turns you girls over to me," he said, reaching for the pistol under his leg. "Now slow it down or I'll blow your brains out."
Connie applied the brakes and slowed the car down to fifty, as they reached the city limits of Daytona.
Parking the car in an alley back of Mama Lou's, Charlie forced the girls to walk before him, with Connie helping Bessie to walk on her swollen ankle. As they entered the back door, Mama Lou looked up from a magazine, surprised to see them.
"What in the hell was the idea of leaving the shack?" she demanded, as Connie helped Bessie to the sofa.
"This Lesbian bitch and some guy came to the shack. I got the drop on them, but she made a break and the only thing I could do after catching her was bring them back here," Charlie said, pointing at Connie.
Mama Lou looked down at Connie who sat staring down at the floor.
"To say that I am shocked at you, Connie, would be putting it mildly. After all we've meant to each other, you'd do such a thing! To think that I actually fell in love with a little tramp who'd betray me. Well it proves that even Mama Lou can make a mistake," she said, shaking her head at the young man.
"Mama Lou, let me take care of this bitch," Charlie begged, nodding his head toward Bessie. "I have several scores to settle with her."
"From the way her face looks, it seems you've already settled something," she replied, looking sharply at the girl's swollen eye. ."I'd planned on having her body found washed ashore, but under the circumstances, perhaps we'd better take them to my boat tonight. Weighted down in the ocean, the sharks will have a picnic. Take her to the back closet and lock her in. Unfortunately we don't have the facilities for keeping uninvited guests. I want you to sit outside the closet and don't leave her for one minute." Turning to Connie, she continued, "As for you, my pretty little pet, until tonight I'll deal with you personally."
Charlie walked over to the sofa and picked Bessie up and carried her to the back room. Opening the closet door, he threw the girl on the floor and stood grinning at her.
"After I've relaxed a while, I'm going to do something I've always wanted to do. It will give me a keen sensation to watch your eyes plead for death, because you haven't had any pain yet," he said, giving the girl a kick in her side as he closed the closet door.
Mama Lou watched the man carry the girl from the room, then motioned for Connie to go to the front bedroom. The girl started towards the room, then turned quickly and ran to the front door. Turning the door knob, her heart sank as she discovered it was hopelessly locked. Mama Lou grabbed her by the hair and pulled her into the bedroom, slamming the door behind them.
"You're a little wildcat, aren't you?" she declared, pushing her down on the bed.
Slipping her dress over her head, she continued to fiendishly grin at Connie as she removed her clothes. Walking over to the dresser, she opened the bottom drawer and removed a first aid kit. Taking some bandages and gauze from the box, she turned and faced the girl who lay gasping for breath.
"Stand up and take off your clothes, because Mama Lou wants to show you just how she treats those who stab her in the back."
Connie forced her body from the bed and started stripping.
"This is all I've been doing since I came to Florida, taking off my clothes. It would save time if I just remain naked," she said, slipping her panties down her legs.
"Oh, I see that my little fern has a little humor left," the woman said, walking up to the girl and forcing a large piece of gauze into her mouth.
Connie stood still, as Mama Lou wrapped the gauze around her mouth and tied a knot behind her head.
"It wouldn't do for the neighbors to hear my little fem beg for mercy," she said, opening a closet door and removing a wide, leather strap.
Connie stood looking at the strap for a moment, then looked up at Mama Lou, as the woman raised it over her head. Without warning, the girl lowered her head and made a dive against the woman, sending her sprawling to the floor. Like a flash, she was on top of the woman, scratching her face and pulling her hair. Mama Lou fought back, hitting Connie in the face with her fists, as the girl clawed at the woman's neck and breast.
Connie quickly jumped to her feet, and, as if she were on a spring board, she landed on Mama Lou's stomach, knocking the breath out of the older woman. Again she dropped on top of Mama Lou and doubling up her fists started beating the woman about her face. Blood spurted from the woman's nose as she lay helpless, trying to regain her breath.
Mustering what little breath she could, Mama Lou screamed for Charlie, as Connie's fist continued to rein blows over the woman's face. The door opened and Charlie stood looking down, surprised at the two women on the floor. Grabbing Connie around the body, he pulled her off of Mama Lou. For a few moments the older woman rolled in agony, gasping for breath, while Connie struggled to free herself from the man's strong arms.
Slowly forcing her aching body from the floor, Mama Lou made it to the bathroom and began washing the blood from her face. A while later, she returned to the room and stared at Connie, gritting her teeth in anger.
"Get that she-bitch out of here and lock her up with the other girl," she screamed at Charlie.
He pulled the struggling girl from the room and down the short hall to the back bedroom.
"Gal, you sure did beat hell outta Mama Lou," he said, laughing, throwing the struggling girl on the bed.
Connie reached back of her head and removed the gauze from her face and mouth.
"I'd have beat hell out of her if you hadn't been here," she replied, as Charlie opened the closet door.
"Okay, wildcat, get in your cage with the other animal. I wouldn't be in your shoes for all the money at Fort Knox," he said, locking the door.
"What did she do to you?" Bessie asked anxiously, after Connie settled down on the floor next to her.
CHAPTER TEN
Mark Adams was a nice guy, too nice a guy to be in the investigating business. Several years with a police department had gotten into his blood. Often he had heard ex-policemen make the statement that once a cop, always a cop, at heart. With his share of the inheritance from his parents' estate, he opened a private detective agency at Daytona Beach. The large amount of money he had used to open the agency had not made a dent in his back account, and he was pleased at the reputation he enjoyed on the East Coast. Of course, you had to hand it to him forgetting where he was, because it took more than money to earn the reputation of being a square private eye, and with a few more good accounts, he would be up there among the top-notchers in his field. He had considered opening a branch on the West Coast of Florida until his sister, several years younger, decided she wanted to surprise him by taking her vacation at Daytona Beach.
He was not only surprised but also shocked when the police found her body washed ashore on the Halifax River. There was no doubt about it, she had committed suicide after brooding over the loss of her money to a young man she had entertained in her room. Mark received a letter from his sister the next day after her body was found. No names were mentioned, but she confessed she had allowed a man to spend the afternoon in her room, and he had robbed her of all her money.
A cool breeze swept in from the ocean on the boardwalk, as Mark walked slowly along in a deep study. Several times he cursed himself for not only allowing Connie to become involved in his quest for revenge over his sister's death, but also allowing her to slip from his ever-watchful eye.
Sitting down on a bench near the band shell, he studied the crowd of vacationers strolling along the boardwalk. He gave several sarcastic laughs to himself, asking himself one question after another. I'm supposed to be a detective, and can't shadow one lone girl. A bunch of young punks not only steal one girl from the cops, but two. Turn in your license, Mark Adams, you're nothing but an amateur playing cops and robbers, he kept muttering over and over.
Turning his body around, he looked down the darkened beach and watched the moon slowly rise over the ocean. The silhouette of couples hand in hand strolling along the beach was a beautiful picture against the reflection of the large yellow moon rippling over the water. It was on this very beach great names in racing had drawn attention to Daytona Beach. A great many other important events had taken place on the hard-packed sand. This beach could relate thousands of stories of how cupid had taken a hand in the lives of couples taking moonlight walks, as the dark sky overhead gave just enough light from its millions of stars.
Things other than happiness had developed on this world-famous beach. Death, heartache, and tragedy had a hand in rounding out the play of life enacted often as vacationers arrived and departed after a week or two of rest and relaxation under the tropical sun.
The police were working desperately to locate the two missing girls before the culprits could do away with them. Taking a cigarette from his pack, Mark struck a match and lit one as a young girl walked up to him.
"Will you give me a light," she asked, sticking a cigarette in her mouth.
Mark looked at the girl and shook his head.
"I don't give children lights," he replied, slipping the book matches back in his shirt pocket.
"I'm not a child, I'm sixteen."
"You aren't any more sixteen than I'm ten. You couldn't be over twelve years old. Do your parents know you smoke?" he asked, glancing over the child's body.
He grinned to himself as his eyes rested on the overly large bulge the foam rubber caused under the white T-shirt she was wearing.
"I don't ask my parents what lean or can't do. Keep your old matches and stick them up your rusty butt," she said defiantly, walking off from him.
Mark laughed a little to himself and watched the girl walk between the benches where the public enjoyed band concerts. The girl walked up to an elderly man and sat down on the seat beside him. He soon reached into his pocket and handed the child a cigarette lighter. The girl took several drags, then began coughing. For a while she sat talking with him.
Mark stood, and was about to walk back towards his office, when he saw the two walk toward the beach. He watched them go down the steps from the boardwalk, then slowly followed at a good distance.
Stopping by a vendor's booth that was closed for the night, he saw the man and girl remove their shoes and start wading in the water. Several times he was tempted to go about his business thinking perhaps the man was the child's father or perhaps an uncle. If he was a relative of hers and had a lighter all the time, then why did he have her ask me for a match? These questions kept popping into his mind, as his eyes searched the darkness in an attempt to keep them in sight.
They waded around in the water, then started walking leisurely up the beach, holding hands.
"I don't want to make an ass out of myself, if that's the kid's father," he said aloud to himself, as he walked slowly through the deep sand to keep the outline of his body from being seen near the water. He quickened his steps, as the man and child's images faded into the darkness.
For nearly a mile he followed them down the beach, keeping enough distance behind so that if the man did look back, he wouldn't be seen. A few minutes later he quickened his pace, straining his eyes for a glimpse of the couple ahead of the beach. His walk became a run, when he failed to see anyone walking near the water's edge.
Making a circle around the man and child, he crept as close as he possibly could without them seeing him. Anger came over him as he saw the man take the child in his arms and press his lips against her mouth.
I'm going to give that bastard enough rope to send his old hot butt to the pen for a good many years. Right now it's just molesting a minor, but he won't stop with that, he thought, as he squatted down in the sand.
"What's your name, honey," the man asked, running his hand over the girl's blonde hair.
"Coleen Thompson," she replied. "Are you sure you're gonna give me five dollars just to be your girl for a while?"
Mark watched the man give a little laugh as his hand rested on the girl's breast.
"Big bubbies like these couldn't be yours," he said, giving the girl's breast a squeeze.
"They're mostly mine."
"I don't believe you, let's see," he coaxed, pulling her T-shirt over her head.
"Didn't I tell you?" she said proudly, smiling at the man.
"I can't tell with that brassiere on, let's slip it off," he said, as his hands slipped to the back of the girl's bra and began unsnapping it.
I don't know whether to kill that bastard or wait until he really commits a more serious crime, Mark thought, fighting back the anger, as he remembered his sister when she was only twelve.
"They are lovely, my darling," the man said, slipping her small breast in his mouth.
"That tickles," she said, laughing.
Mark knelt, watching the man remove her shorts and panties, then stood and walked slowly toward them as the man began pressing his mouth down on her stomach and later to her legs.
"All right, you no good child molester, this is what I've been waiting for, a good case of sodomy against you," Mark said aloud, giving the man a kick, causing him to fall over in the sand. "You're under arrest for molesting a minor child, and committing a crime against nature on a minor."
The man slowly got to his feet, and, before Mark realized what had happened, pulled a pistol from under his shirt and pointed it at him.
"You're not gonna take me to jail, man. I'd rather be dead than serve a term for this," he said, waving the gun at Mark.
"Put down that gun, you're in enough trouble without adding murder to the charge," Mark tried to reason, walking slowly toward the man.
The girl sat with a look of horror on her face.
"I can't help how I am, and I'm not going to spend the rest of my days in prison, because I have a weakness for young girls. I've pleaded and begged my preacher to help me. I've prayed that the Almighty would take my uncontrollable desire for kids away, but no one wants to help people like me. We're just dirty dogs to normal people who don't have this weakness. The Government spends millions to take care of dope fiends and alcoholics, but not one dime to help cure people who are sick with an unnatural disease like mine. No, damn you, you aren't taking me to prison. If decent people won't help me, I'll help myself," he screamed, as he turned and started running up the beach.
Suddenly he stopped and turned the gun again toward Mark.
"Don't come any closer, because I don't want to take you with me," he said, raising the gun to his head.
A cold feeling swept over Mark as he made a lunge for the man. A loud explosion, and the man's eyes opened wide, then he fell to the sand. Mark stood looking down at him, then slowly shook his head. The girl behind him started screaming, and he ran back to her and took her in his arms.
"It's all over now, honey, just quiet down," he said, attempting to comfort the hysterical child.
Slipping her T-shirt back on her, he picked her up in his arms and started back toward the boardwalk, with the sobbing girl's face buried in his shirt. Climbing the steps, he sat her down on a bench and waited a few moments for her to get control of herself.
"Honey, why did you do such a thing as this? Didn't you know that man could've ruined your little body, then murdered you? Now tell me where you live, and I'll take you home," he said, as the girl's tears turned into just a sob now and then.
"I live on Birch Drive."
Mark looked sharply at her for a moment, then asked:
"Isn't that the street beyond Brevard Drive?"
The girl wiped her eyes and nodded.
"Yes, sir, it's the next one over."
"Coleen, I'm going to have to take you by the police station and report what's happened, but don't be afraid, because the police aren't going to bother you. It's true you knew better than to do what you did, but there isn't any law against a girl leading a molester on. After you tell the police your story, I'll take you home," he said, as he took her hand and started walking down the boardwalk toward the concession stands.
"You know what I saw today?" she asked.
"No, what did you see today?" Mark answered, glad of another subject to discuss so as to take her mind off of the recent experience.
"I was in my back yard and a car drove up the alley and a man got out and pulled a lady from the car and pushed her toward the house. Then he picked up another lady and carried her to the back door."
"Maybe it was his wife and sister who'd strayed into a beer joint," Mark replied, paying little attention to the girl's chatter.
"I'll bet he was going to kill them," Coleen said, looking up at Mark wild eyed.
Mark looked down at her and smiled.
"He may have been angry, but I doubt he was angry enough to kill."
"If he wasn't going to kill them, then why did he have a gun in his hand pointing at the girl walking?" the child asked.
Mark stopped in his tracks and looked down at the girl.
"You say he had a gun in his hand? Was one of the ladies a blonde and the other had black hair?"
"Yes, sir, the one walking was a blonde, and when they got to the back door, the man pushed her in with his foot."
Mark grabbed the girl by the hand again and began walking as fast as he could, pulling her behind him. Seeing a policeman on the boardwalk, he approached the officer and showed his credentials.
"Take care of this kid and hold her at the PD. There's a man up the beach a ways who committed suicide, when I caught him molesting her. I've got to get in touch with Detective Boatwright," he said.
"Hey, wait a minute, what's this all about?" the bewildered officer called, as Mark ran as fast as he could to where his car was parked.
Pulling up in front of the police station, he jumped out and hurried into the Detective's private office.
Detective Boatwright looked up in surprise as Mark rushed in.
"I think I've located Connie and that girl, Carl, come on and let's go," he said excitedly.
The Detective grabbed his hat and followed Mark out the door. Running to the police car, the two men climbed in. As the car raced up Atlantic Avenue, Mark explained briefly what had happened on the beach and the child's story about the man with the gun.
"This may be a wild goose chase, Carl, but it's worth a try," Mark said, reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.
"Hell, man, it's all we've got."
Turning his red lights on, the Detective stepped down on the siren to help clear traffic. The speedometer reached seventy as the driver stepped on the brakes and slid the back end around a corner. Switching off the red lights and siren, he slowed the car down at a red light, then drove on across. Turning down Brevard Drive, the car's tires slid on the pavement, and the two men jumped out with their guns drawn and rushed up the walk. Mark ran around to the back as the Detective knocked on the front door.
A young boy in his twenties cut on the porch light and opened the door.
"This is the police, I'd like to come in and ask you a few questions," he said, showing his badge.
"You can ask them here without coming in."
"Hell, I ain't got time to argue with you, son," the Detective replied, pushing the boy aside and entering the house.
"If you'll tell me what you're looking for, perhaps I could help you," he said, following the Detective into Mama Lou's room.
"All right, smart boy, I'm looking for two young girls and don't start lying to me."
"Look, officer, I don't know what this is all about, I just live here," the man said, looking around at Mark who had just entered the room.
"So you live here, do you? Who else lives here with you?"
"There are several of us veterans who share the expenses," he replied.
"Look, bastard, don't use that word 'veteran' to me. Rats like you can't disgrace decent veterans by calling yourself a veteran. I know about this setup you have here, stealing young girls' money," the Detective said, grabbing the man's shirt in his hand. "Now talk and talk fast. Where is Mama Lou, and where've they taken those girls?"
"Carl, remember the newspaper gentleman who took a ride with us? Perhaps if you give me a few minutes I can make this punk remember what we want to know," Mark interrupted, doubling up his fist.
"Now you look, I heard about you beating up Jimmy, and you aren't going to lay a hand on me. If you do I'll have you arrested," the young man said, turning pale.
"All right, Mark, this rat's yours, exterminate him," the Detective said, walking toward the door.
"Wait a minute, officer, don't leave me with him, I'll tell you everything I know," the man pleaded.
"All right, son, start talking," the Detective said, pushing the man down on the bed.
"Well, all I know about this whole thing is this: Mama Lou hired us to pick up girls on the beach and talk them into going to their rooms. It was our job to lift what money they had and turn it over to the old lady. I heard something about a girl squealing to the cops and that Mama Lou had her taken care of. When I came in this evening, Charlie and Mama Lou were forcing two girls to get into the car out in the alley, but I had nothing to do with it. I can take you to the girl's room I just left about a half an hour ago. Here's the money I took from her," he offered, pulling a roll of bills from his pocket. "Now, that's the truth if I ever told it."
"All right, let's go," the Detective said, pushing the man toward the door.
Reaching for the microphone, the Detective began talking:
"Car 92, calling all cars. Investigate all cars with more than two persons in them. Block off all roads leading out of the beach area, and be on the lookout for two young girls, age approximately twenty to twenty-three. Number one, blonde, number two, brunette. Proceed with caution as these girls have been kidnapped and perpatrators are considered dangerous. 10-4."
Immediately the radio receiver barked:
"Car 74 calling 92, what kind of lookout are you giving to stop all cars?"
"Captain Davis, this is Boatwright. The kidnappers have the two girls in an automobile somewhere in this vicinity," the Detective explained.
"74 calling all cars ... Follow through on the lookout given by 92."
"Sheriff's Department calling Daytona Beach PD.
We read your lookout and will block all roads from the beach," another voice came from the radio.
The detective grabbed the microphone again.
"Volusia County Sheriff's Department, additional information on wanted car. One of the perpatrators will be white female, age approximately forty-five or fifty, weight around one hundred and sixty pounds. It is suspected the young girls' lives may be in grave danger ... Daytona Beach PD ... 10-4."
Turning to the back seat, the Detective looked through the mesh wire and said:
"Son, if you're lying to us about where they've taken those girls, I, personally, will break every bone in your body."
"I've told you all I know, the girl I swiped the money from tonight will verify that I left her about forty-five minutes ago," the young man replied.
"This rakes up part of the case, if we can find Mama Lou, we'll have the whole nest of rats where they belong," he said, starting the car toward the beach.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A little after eight o'clock, Mama Lou and Charlie forced the two girls to accompany them out the back door to the waiting car parked in the alley. Mama Lou got under the wheel after pushing Connie in the front seat beside her.
"If either one of these girls makes one suspicious move, see just how far you can jab that switch blade knife into their hearts," she said, starting the car and driving slowly down the alley onto the street.
Turning the car to the right, they drove several blocks and again turned right. Connie looked at the neon sign atop of the hotel she had registered at when she first arrived. Over the roof tops of other buildings, the red glow of the sign cast a beaming light. Little did she realize that only one block away, sitting on the boardwalk was the man she now realized she had fallen in love with. She thought of Steve and his charming manners, and the tenderness he had displayed at the hotel in DeLand. She could in time learn to love him because of his kindness and understanding. Mark was neither tender nor understanding, but in spite of his crudeness, there was something worldly about him that caused her to come alive. Steve had professed his love for her, while Mark had neither spoken nor shown any reason for her to believe he returned her feelings. Their moments in each other's arms had been for satisfaction of sex and nothing more.
A sharp needle-like sting came into her heart as they passed the entrance to the boardwalk, and the thought she would never see either of the men in her life again came to her. She watched the vacationers walk leisurely down the street enjoying the cool breeze from the ocean.
For a while the occupants of the car rode in silence as Mama Lou turned the car to the right passing a sign that stated, "Last bridge to U.S. 1." Crossing a long cement bridge over the Halifax River, she turned to the left as they began increasing speed down the highway. The older woman broke the silence and addressed the man in the back seat.
"I've left orders for the boys to lay off picking up girls for a while. Thanks to that bitch next to you, we'll lose thousands of dollars and good pickings will go unmolested while we sit around twiddling our thumbs. It's going to be hard watching those young girls throw their money away, enjoying their vacations, when we could be relieving them of their burden."
Charlie laughed a little.
"Maybe the rest'll do the boys some good. This hitting one girl after another is beginning to show on them. I noticed Arthur hitting the goof balls again to give him more pep."
"He's a good boy. Last Sunday he turned over nearly seven hundred dollars to me. Poor thing was really beat after that last girl took him for a whirl. Too bad things have turned out the way they have, but these are the risks you take in our profession. I've been thinking about selling out my property and moving to the West Coast, somewhere around Los Angeles. Tourists from all over the world flock to California, and the pickings should be better than Florida."
"That's a long way, Mama Lou. What about down around Miami or Ft. Lauderdale?" Charlie asked, lighting a cigarette and allowing the smoke to trickle through his nose.
"Too many houses down that way now. Ft. Lauderdale and Miami are usually loaded with family tourists. No, if we stayed in Florida, the only place for our enterprise is around Cocoa Beach. Now, that's an up and coming beach resort if I ever saw one. About two months ago I visited my friend there and they have a beautiful beach. Quite a few working girls drive over from Orlando and Sanford for the week end. Of course, the take wouldn't be as large as Daytona, but it would help us survive until Cocoa Beach became as large as Daytona Beach. I still feel that California would be more healthy for us since this rotten mess blew up," she said, slowing the car down as they passed through New Smyrna Beach.
"Don't you know that sooner or later you'll be caught and sent to prison?" Connie spoke up, looking over at the older woman.
Mama Lou smiled and reached over and gave the girl a pat on her knee.
"My dear, do you think Daytona Beach is the only resort in the world with a racket such as ours? Why, over this country there are thousands of girls losing not only their virtue but cash as well. That's what keeps the economy of this country at a high level, money changing hands. As long as there are girls alone on vacation with hot pants, there'll always be someone waiting to take advantage of their desire to have a wild fling. The chances of our being arrested are very small compared to the chance so-called respectible people take in trying to flim flam the government on income taxes. We do have a fifty-fifty chance, because we're protected to a certain extent by the red tape the law inforcement officers are tied up with. Too, we aren't the only guilty ones in our enterprise. If little hot pants girls such as you and Bessie weren't on the lookout for a handsome young man to shack up with, we couldn't operate. The girls take a chance when they talk with strange men on the beach, and we take the chance when we relieve them of their money, so we're all in this together."
Connie looked out the car window and for a while watched the tropical scenery. While in the back seat, Charlie was causing Bessie to sit as close to the door as possible, while his hand slipped up and down her leg. Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew a long, switch blade knife. Opening the blade, he pulled the girl's skirt up and set the point down on her white leg. The girl flinched as the sharp point of the knife penetrated the skin, causing a little blood to flow from the punctured skin.
"What'll it be, baby, the knife deeper in the leg or do you cooperate?" he whispered, slipping his arm around the young girl.
Bessie swallowed hard and slid her body against the man, as he pressed his repulsive lips down on her mouth.
Using his other hand, he unbuttoned the blouse and slipped his hand inside the blouse and grasped her breast.
"Don't breath so hard, baby, there's plenty of air for all," he whispered, removing the girl's breast from the tight bra.
Bessie closed her eyes, as the man leaned over and took her breast in his mouth, while his hand slid slowly up her leg. Giving the girl a kiss on her lips again, he whispered:
"Let me hear you beg me to give it to you."
Bessie opened her eyes and looked at the grinning man. Reluctantly she slipped her arm around his neck and whispered in his ear.
"Please do it with me, please give it to me."
"What'd you want me to give you, baby, and it better be what I want to hear," he said, grasping the girl's breast and squeezing tightly.
"I want you to give me that," she replied, nodding toward the man's lap.
"Ah, come on, baby, tell me in plain English what it is you want so bad," he said, giving her breast another hard squeeze.
"I don't want you to give me anything, I want to give you this," she screamed out, spitting in the man's face.
Charlie's fist landed against the girl's face, as Mama Lou swerved the car, looking back over her shoulder.
"Leave that girl alone, Charlie," she ordered. "What're you trying to do, create suspicion from passing cars? If you want to play, wait until we get to the barnyard."
"You're gonna pay for spitting in my face," he threatened, taking his handkerchief and wiping his eye.
Leaving the highway below Mims, Mama Lou turned down a sand road that had grown up in weeds. Driving slowly over the little-used road, she drove until they came to the Indian River. The make-shift road took a turn south, and for nearly a mile the car was driven in and out of the wooded area, until they came to an old two-story frame house. The building had not known the smell of paint for years and the faded green shutters were nailed shut, showing the house had not been occupied recently.
"Take a good look around you, girls, because what you see now will be your last glimpse of this world," Mama Lou said, opening the door of the car.
The inside of the house was in as bad a condition as the outside. The walls made of pine boards, which hung loosely from the dampness in the house, also needed painting.
"Grace and I bought this place with the intentions of some day tearing this old barn down and building a nice home to retire. Under these large oak trees facing the river would make an ideal place to rest our weary bones after we get too old for our enterprise," she said, opening the front door, allowing a cool breeze to circulate through the house.
Turning to Charlie, who stood looking in anger at Bessie, she continued:
"It would be a simple matter to do away with the girls and return to our home, but since the police are putting their nose into our business, I feel we should remain here for a while until things cool off. I want you to keep an eye on the girls while I drive back to that town and buy some groceries, a broom, and a mop. If we must remain in this God-forsaken place, at least I want it clean. I think the exercise will do the girls good, cleaning up Mama Lou's old house."
"Don't worry about a thing, Mama Lou. You get the food in the house and I'll attend to the girls," Charlie said, grinning at Bessie.
"No rough stuff, now. Remember what happened at Samsula," she said, going out through the kitchen.
"Mama Lou doesn't know how rough little Charlie can be," he said, walking up to Connie. "I took the precaution of bringing these along, incase I needed them."
Taking a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, he slipped them on Connie's wrist and fastened the other one to the banister on the stairway.
"I thought we were suppose to clean the house up," Connie said, trying to stall until Mama Lou could return.
"You'll have plenty of time to do housework when Mama Lou gets back. I have a little unfinished business to discuss with my spitting friend here," he said, grabbing Bessie by her wrist and forcing her up the steps. Opening a bedroom door, he pushed the struggling girl into the room. "So you like to play spitting on people, do you?" he asked, pulling her against his body. "Well, baby, I'm gonna make you wish you'd kept it in your mouth."
"What kind of a man are you who receives a thrill from torturing other people? You must've had a wicked upbringing for you to turn out so rotten," Bessie said, looking at the man defiantly.
Charlie gave the girl a sneer, pushing her down on the dirty mattress.
"Yeah, I had a wicked upbringing, as you call it. My old man never saw a sober day in his life. He'd come home on Saturday nights, half drunk, and kick us kids around. Wanna know something? My old man was a masterbater who'd make the average masterbater look like an amateur. When he got drunk enough, not only would he strip off naked and masterbate in front of us kids, but it gave him a sensation to force my kid sister and me to masterbate with him. To us it was a lark to watch the old man play with himself. When he was sober he'd deny he ever did such a thing. It's a wonder I didn't turn out just like my old man. I probably would have if a nosey old preacher hadn't heard about it and had my old man arrested and sent to a mental hospital where he died. The death certificate said he died of natural causes, but I always did believe he master-bated himself to death," Charlie said, laughing.
"I guess that must be the reason you delight in making people suffer, you're sick mentally."
"Don't you ever say that again," he shouted, giving the girl a hard slap across her face. "I don't like for people to intimate that I'm crazy, because I'm as bright as the next one. I graduated from high school with honors. I was a football hero and had an opportunity to receive a scholarship to a college, but the damn draft wouldn't leave me alone. So don't ever say I'm crazy again, because I have more sense than you'll ever have."
Walking over to the bed, he lay down beside her and slipped his arm over the girl.
"Now, baby, let's continue what we started in the car. You were about to plead with me to take you, so let's hear your plea," he said, reaching down Bessie's blouse and clasping her small breast.
The girl looked down at his hand, then turned up her nose at him.
"Squeeze my breast all you want to, but I'm not pleading with a lunatic to rape me," she said defiantly.
Anger came over the man's face as he doubled his fist up, striking the girl over her swollen eye.
"I told you not to say I was crazy, I'm not crazy and don't say that," he screamed, as tears started rolling down his cheek. "My sister said I was crazy and I hit her, yes, I hit her over and over again."
Bessie stared at the man, bewildered at the sudden outburst. Never had she seen a grown man cry before as Charlie continued to sob. The pain over her eye increased, as she watched the man bury his face in his hands. Surely this man must be a mentally sick person to live such a warped life. Placing her hand on his head, she softly said:
"I'm sorry I called you a crazy man, Charlie. If it hurts you so much for me to say that, there must be something wrong in your life to cause you to be the way you are."
Wiping the tears from his eyes, the man looked over at the girl beside him and tried to force a smile on his face.
"I like to cry. Don't you? It makes me feel so much better when I cry. I remember when I was a kid and my sister would hurt my feelings, I'd go down in our basement and cry for a longtime, then I'd feel so good. You are a funny girl, Bessie. I've beaten you, cursed, and raped you, and now you apologize for hurting my feelings. No one ever told me they were sorry because they said I was crazy. When I was in grammer school, the boys used to call me goofy, and when I cried, they just laughed at me, but you didn't; you apologized for saying I was crazy," he said, touching her bruised eye with the tip of his finger.
"Are all Mama Lou's boys like you?" she asked, taking the young man's hand and holding it.
Charlie looked down at the girl's hand and shook his head.
"The other boys don't like me, because I enjoy playing with little girls. They call me the baby snatcher who likes to fool with babies. I can't help it if I like young kids more than grown girls. I remember when my sister was only nine and I was eleven. She told Mama that I took her pants off of her and played with her privates. You know, Bessie, that my sister told a lie on me? She took her pants off, all right, and told me to play with her, but Mama wouldn't believe me. She locked me up in the wood shed until I said I was sorry for what I'd done. You don't believe I took her pants off, do you, Bessie?" Charlie said, as if pleading with the girl to believe him.
Bessie watched the young man run his hand up and down her arm. She knew she was at the mercy of a mentally sick man, who seemed to be living in the past.
"How did you happen to join Mama Lou's gang?" she asked, attempting to keep the conversation between them going until Mama Lou returned.
"I just sorta stumbled into the job. When I got to Daytona Beach, I was broke and hungry. I tried to bum some money off of a man and he bought me a hamburger. He introduced me to Mama Lou, so she hired me to work around her house and drive the car for her when she didn't want to drive. She didn't pay me much, but I have a room near the beach, and each day I can watch the little girls play on the beach in their bathing suits. Did you ever play with a little girl when she's naked?" he asked seriously.
Shaking her head, Bessie smiled and said:
"That's one sex game I couldn't get interested in. Tell me, what pleasure do you receive from a child?"
The man laid his head back down on the mattress and grinned.
"Oh, there's lots of fun tickling little girls' legs and watching them giggle. I don't know why, but I'm always sorry for what I do, when I get through with a little girl. You don't really think I'm crazy, do you, Bessie?"
"Of course you aren't, Charlie, you just need a friend to help you. Now if I weren't going to be killed, I could be a real friend to you, but I guess that lets our friendship out. I was just thinking how much fun we could have if you and I went back to North Carolina together. My father would give you a job in his mill, and we could be such good friends."
The man stared at the girl for several moments, then said:
"I ain't never had a real friend, Bessie. If you'd be my friend, and let me go to North Carolina with you, I would sure appreciate it."
"How can I take you back with me if Mama Lou's going to kill me?" she asked, attempting to sound sincere. "If Mama Lou kills me, then you won't have anyone you can call your friend."
"Maybe I won't let Mama Lou kill you, just that other girl who sleeps with Mama Lou. Maybe if we killed Mama Lou, then you would take me with you," he said excitedly. "I've got a knife she bought me, and I could cut her throat and let her bleed to death. That would be fun, wouldn't it?" he said, laughing.
"It would be easier if you and I slipped away together and went back to my home. We could have so much fun up there hiking in the mountains and fishing in the streams. Let's sneak away now and catch a bus for North Carolina," she whispered, planting a kiss on the man's cheek.
"We'll do it," he said, jumping from the bed. "We'll sneak out the back door and run through the woods until we get to the highway, then we'll catch a bus for North Carolina."
Bessie slid herself off the bed and, taking the man by the hand, led him out the door and down the steps. Connie looked at the couple with her mouth open as they walked quickly down the stairs, holding hands.
"You two look like a bride and groom after their first night together," she said, as Bessie frowned at the girl and shook her head.
"Bessie and I are going to North Carolina," Charlie informed, walking towards the back door.
"Charlie, let's turn Connie loose so she can go back to her home, too," Bessie said, pulling the young man toward Connie.
"No, we can't turn her loose, she'd be in the way. Just you and me are going to North Carolina," he said, pulling the girl toward the door.
"She won't go with us, Charlie, Connie'll go the other way, won't you?" Bessie pleaded, trying to pull the man toward the girl.
"Oh, hell, yes, I'll go any direction," Connie volunteered, nodding her head at the man.
"We ain't gonna let Connie loose, so come on before Mama Lou gets back," he replied, pulling the girl through the door.
"Go on, Bessie. Go quickly," Connie called, as she heard Mama Lou's car drive up in front of the house.
Connie sat on the steps watching the front door as Mama Lou entered.
"Charlie, get the things out of the car," she hollered, as she entered the door. "Where in the hell is Charlie?"
Connie grinned and motioned with her head toward the stairs.
"Having his fun with Bessie up there, I guess," she said, trying to stall for time.
The woman grinned a little and dropped her purse on a dusty table.
"That's one nut I'm not taking with me to California. One minute he's as sane as we are, and the next he has a child's mind," she said, looking up the steps. "Charlie, come on down and get the things out of the car. I want this place cleaned up, if I've got to stay here a while."
Several times she called to the young man, then slowly she started up the steps. A moment later, Mama Lou hurried back down.
"Where is Charlie and that girl?" she demanded.
"I don't know where they are. Charlie took her up the steps after handcuffing me, and that's the last I've seen of them," Connie replied.
"You're lying to me, you dirty little bitch. Charlie's run off with that girl, and you know it," Mama Lou said, slapping Connie across the face. "Well, they won't get far before Charlie's mind'll snap back to normal, and he'll come dragging her back all black and blue from a beating."
Connie laughed at the woman and asked: "What's the matter, Mama Lou? Your little racket backfiring on you? Charlie's mind may return as you say, but there is a possibility Bessie will reach help before it does."
"That no good demented sonofabitch," the woman said over and over again. "Well, Connie, I guess this is the end of the road for you. There is a lot to what you just said. If Bessie gets help before Charlie's mind returns, I don't want to be here. So, if you have any prayers you want to say, start saying them," she said, reaching for her purse and taking out the small pistol.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Detective Boatwright, along with other members of the vice squad, started their crackdown on the beach area. Known procurers of young girls were arrested, fingerprinted, and brought before the line-up. The young man arrested at Mama Lou's house cooperated with the police after being identified by the girl whose money he had stolen. As each suspect was brought into the line-up, the young man identified him as one of the gang or shook his head as an unknown. Altogether, six men were identified as members of the racket and were booked on charges of vagrancy or larceny.
One of the men, identified as being very close to Mama Lou, was questioned personally by the Detective and Mark.
Steve's car had been found abandoned several miles from Mama Lou's house with all fingerprints wiped clean. Inside the car the lipstick tube which Mark had given Connie was found on the floorboard. Over twelve clear pictures had been printed showing Mama Lou accepting money from different men and also the pictures taken while she was with Grace.
While the police were rounding up the men who comprised Mama Lou's enterprise, Steve drove over to Daytona Beach, in search of Connie. Each bar and night club was visited and more questions asked concerning the missing girl. On a hunch, he drove to DeLand and sought the aid of his attorney friend in searching the records, in hope that perhaps Mama Lou or Grace had purchased any other property in the county.
"Well, Steve, that seems to be the only property in Volusia County the old girl has bought in the past year. Now, there is the possibility that she bought a house in one of the surrounding counties. Suppose I check Seminole and Orange County and you drive down to Titusville and check Brevard. Here's the name of a friend of mine in the County Clerk's office. Just mention my name, and I'm sure he'll give you all the assistance you need," the lawyer said.
A short while later, Steve drove up in front of the Titusville Court House and made his way to the office of the friend the lawyer had mentioned. After being apprised of Steve's mission, the man began to scan the books, in search of outlying property that had changed hands in the past year.
"Unfortunately for you, my friend, quite a bit of property has changed hands in this county. This is a large county, and our job isn't going to be an easy one. Since the other house you located belonged to a woman, we'll narrow our search down to property bought only by women," the man suggested, as they each took a book to search.
After several hours had lapsed, they had written down eighteen names and locations that seemed promising. Finally they came across the name of Louise Dikeman.
"Say, this could be Mama Lou's real name," Steve exclaimed, writing down the location of the property on a separate piece of paper.
Taking the long list of names with him, too, he thanked the clerk and headed his car north again. Stopping at a service station in Mims, he got out as a man came out to wait on him.
"You just made it, friend," the man said, looking at his wrist watch. "I was fixing to close for the night."
"You close pretty early, don't you? It's only a little after six."
"Well, along U.S. 1, those who haven't bought gas in Titusville or New Smyrna usually aren't going very far and business isn't much after dark," the man answered.
"Have you lived around this area long?" The man laughed and said:
"I've been here so long I can remember when Cocoa and Cocoa Beach were sleepy little burgs. Since the government took over the Cape, things have really boomed. I can see the missiles being shot from right here, especially at night."
"I'm searching for a place and don't exactly know what I'm looking for. Would you know of any property, especially with a house on it, that's been sold this past year?"
The man scratched his head and grinned.
"Now that's a mighty big question since property changes hands so often around these parts. Just what kind of place are you looking for?"
"This may sound crazy to you, but I don't know. You see, my wife ran off with another man, and I've been told she's living with this man in a house a woman bought within the past year," Steve lied, trying to sound convincing..
"Well, my wife left me, too, about two years ago. At first it worried me, but now I'm convinced."
"Convinced of what?" Steve asked.
"I'm convinced he ain't going to bring her back," the man replied, breaking into a big roar. "Boy, that's a good one, ain't it?"
Steve grinned mildly and pursued further.
"If you've been here a long time, you must know of a place that was for sale in the past year."
The man thought seriously for a moment as he put the gas cap back on the tank.
"Well, there is one place, but that wouldn't be it. This place is down near the river, but it has a broken-down old house on it, and no one's lived there for years."
"Where would that place be?"
"Well, you go back down the road until you come to a sign pointing toward the river. That's Hank's Fishing Camp. The second road on the left will lead you to the house. Since it's dark, you'll have to drive slow or you'll miss the road. The sand road hasn't been used in years, and the weeds have grown up, but it's a road," he said, pointing down the highway.
Steve hastily paid the man and turned the car around and drove south for about a mile. His headlights caught the sign pointing to Hank's Fishing Camp. Driving very slowly, he passed another road and then saw an opening in a field that could have been a road in its day. Driving on past the road, he continued on until he came to a sand road on the right side of the highway. Turning down the road, he parked his car and cut off the lights. He reached in the glove compartment and took out a new pistol he had purchased in Daytona Beach and slipped it in his pocket. As he walked back up the highway, he found the road he was searching for and started through the weeds toward the river. Coming to a fork in the road, he stopped for a moment to decide which way he should go. Taking the left, he began winding in and out of the trees as the road led round and round in the woods. For several miles he walked and stumbled until he came to an opening in the woods along the river bank.
Several cottages had been built with lamps hanging outside the doors. Four men sat before an open fire, frying the fish they had caught several hours before. Looking up, one of the men smiled and called out to Steve:
"Are you lost, friend?"
Steve walked into the camp and greeted each of the men.
"I'm sorry if I startled you, gentlemen, but I'm looking for a vacant house in this vicinity," he said, walking up to the fire. "I'm Steve Randall from Daytona Beach."
The man who had greeted him initially stood and shook his hand.
"I'm Floyd Duncan, and these are my friends, Bill Parker, Ed Newman, and Bob Willard," he said, recognizing each man.
"It looks as if you men had good luck fishing today," Steve commented, taking a box one of the men offered him as a seat.
"Yeah, the fish were really biting late this afternoon. We come up here often when we can all get off work at the same time. I'm with the Rockledge Police, and Bill's with the Cocoa Beach Police Department. Ed and Bob don't have to work for a living, they're in the real estate business," Duncan said jokingly.
"It looks as if the police are well represented here. Maybe the good Lord led me down this way since I may be needing some assistance. A young lady friend of mine was kidnapped in Daytona Beach along with another girl, and I have a hunch she may be held in this vicinity," Steve said, as the men slowly turned and looked at him.
"The girls wouldn't happen to be Connie Miller and Bessie Lake, would they?" Floyd asked, looking suspiciously at Steve.
"That's right, those are the girls I'm searching for."
"I saw a lookout bulletin on them before I left the station. What makes you think they would be in this area?" he asked.
"I don't have a damn thing to go on except a hunch," Steve replied, then related the events leading up to that evening.
"We don't mind helping you one bit, friend, but I don't see any sense of running around in the night looking for a needle in a hay stack on a hunch," the man named Bill spoke up. "It isn't because we're on a short vacation, it's just that it wouldn't make any sense to go searching around here in the night."
"Suppose you stay with us tonight, and in the morning we'll help you search for the girls," Floyd said, reaching down and turning the sizzling fish over.
"Maybe you're right, fellows. We could search all night and still not find them. The guy at the service station said there was an old house down by the river, so like a drowning man catching at a straw, I thought I'd investigate."
The Rockledge officer pointed down the river and said:
"About a mile down that way is an old two-story house, but no one's lived there for years. If it will help your feelings any, I'll go with you and have a look around, after we eat."
"Thanks for inviting me to stay with you, fellows, I'd sleep better if I did satisfy my curiosity about that house."
A little while later, after enjoying the fresh cooked fish, Steve and the officer started walking back down the make-shift road toward the old house.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your vacation to satisfy my anxiety," Steve apologized, when they had come to the fork in the road.
"Don't worry about it, my friend, a policeman's on duty twenty-four hours a day, even on vacation," the man replied, using his flashlight to guide them through .the darkness.
A few minutes later, he laid his hand on Steve's arm and whispered:
"Hold it, buddy, there's a lamp light in that old house."
The two men walked quietly up to the house and attempted to peek through the shutters over the windows.
"I can't tell who it is, but someone's inside. You step back in the darkness, and I'll knock on the door.
If it is the kidnappers, they won't know me out of uniform," he said, walking up to the door and gently knocking.
Mama Lou cocked the gun she was holding and aimed it at Connie.
"I'm sorry, my dear, you and I could've become very close friends," she said, as the officer knocked on the door again. "Don't open your mouth, or I'll shoot whoever it is."
The man smiled at Mama Lou, as she opened the door and held the lamp up to see who the caller was.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, madam, but my friends and I have been fishing over at Hank's Fishing Camp, and we've run out of shortening. We'd appreciate it if we could buy a little from you," the officer said innocently.
"I haven't opened the house yet, and there are no groceries here," Mama Lou said sharply, closing the door in the man's face.
Turning to Steve, the officer asked:
"Did you recognize her?"
"That's Mama Lou, the ringleader. She usually has one or two men with her, so we'd better be careful."
The man looked up at the house and noticed a window above without any shutters.
"If I climbed that tree and crawled out on that limb, I could drop to the roof and maybe reach the window. Damn the luck, I didn't bring my gun with me. An officer who'd go anywhere without his gun shouldn't be a policeman," Floyd said disgustedly, as he slipped off his shoes and started climbing the tree.
Steve stayed back in the darkness in case any of the kidnappers were looking out the window. As Floyd reached the top of the oak tree, he began crawling on his stomach out on the limb. As he neared the house, the weight of his body caused the limb to bend and touch the roof. Quietly he let himself down on the roof, then hung down the side of the house until his feet touched the window sill. For several seconds he clung to the roof, then reaching down, his fingers caught on the window facing. Quietly he began to raise the window until it was open enough for him to crawl through. He walked softly to the door, opened it, and walked out into the hall. Opening the door across the hall, he looked in. Finding no one, he creeped to the head of the stairs. At the bottom of the steps, he saw a young girl handcuffed to the banister and the woman who had answered the door standing over her with a small gun in her hand.
"As I was saying before we were interrupted by that fisherman, we could've been very close friends, Connie, but you had to play the good little girl and run to the police. This pains me having to kill such a pretty little thing, but there's nothing left for me to do," the woman said, stepping back and aiming the gun at the girl.
"The shot will attract that man's attention," Connie cried.
"No, my dear, he's probably out of hearing distance by now. Goodbye, Connie, and may the good Lord take care of you."
"Drop the gun, lady, this is the police, and you're covered. If she makes one move, shot her, Bill," the officer called out, hoping his bluff would work.
Mama Lou looked up the steps into the darkness.
"Who are you?" she demanded, surprised.
"I said this was the police, and if you don't drop that gun I'll put a bullet into that fat head of yours."
Mama Lou thought a moment, then let the gun fall to the floor. Quickly the officer ran down the steps and picked it up.
"Lady, you'll fall for anything, won't you?" Floyd said, aiming the gun at Mama Lou. "I didn't have a gun, but I've got one now. Where're the others?"
"Charlie took Bessie out the back door some time ago," Connie said, pointing with her free hand.
"All right, fat baby, go over to that door and let my friend in," he ordered, waving the gun at Mama Lou.
Mama Lou walked over to the door and opened it and grinned at Steve.
"Well, if it isn't the hero playing cops and robbers again," she said, walking back in the room.
Steve rushed to Connie and took her in his arms.
"I didn't think I'd ever see you again, my darling," he whispered between kisses.
"Steve, Charlie has Bessie somewhere out there in the dark. He's a mad man, you've got to save her," Connie cried.
"We'll take fat stuff here and the girl back to camp, and I'll drive to the nearest telephone and put out a lookout for the other girl. All right, big mama, let's get going," the officer said, giving Mama Lou a push toward the door.
Looking down at Connie, Mama Lou smiled and said:
"Well, Connie dear, it looks as if your guardian angel has been watching over you. Ask that angel how you'll get loose from those handcuffs," she said triumphantly.
"That will be simple," Steve replied, giving the banister a hard push causing it to fall over. Slipping the cuffs down the wood, he gave them a gentle pull as Connie got to her feet.
"It looks like I'm not free yet," Connie said, following Steve out the door.
Getting into Mama Lou's car, they drove back to the fork and turned toward the camp. Stopping the car just outside the camp, Floyd got out, giving Mama Lou a push before him.
"Hey, fellows, look what I caught," he bragged, as Mama Lou walked into the camp. "Never under estimate a citizen's hunch. Bill, drive our friend here and his girl back to his car. I'm going to take this big fish I caught to Titusville and give her a room for the night. I understand the boys up at Daytona Beach are very anxious to see this old gal."
Starting his car, Steve headed south.
"This isn't the way back to Daytona Beach, Steve," Connie said, surprised at the change in direction.
"Honey, the whole town is popping back there tonight, and I thought a good night's rest on the beach is what you need more than anything else. I understand there is a nice, quiet motel at Cocoa Beach with an air conditioned room just waiting for us," he said, reaching over and taking the hand with the handcuff still attached.
"A night in a motel room with you isn't what I'd call a good night's rest," Connie replied, squeezing his hand.
"My word as a gentleman I won't lay a hand on you one time, that is, after midnight," he said, as his foot pressed the accelerator to the floor.
"I'm not concerned about Cinderella after midnight, it's during the ball that worries me," Connie said, laying her head on his shoulder.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sun was never brighter nor things more cheerful than the next day, when Connie and Steve drove into Daytona Beach. It was as if this were her first day at the beach, as Steve drove slowly along the Boulevard.
"I don't know where I'm going to stay, now that Mama Lou's in jail. My things are still at her house," Connie said, as Steve parked the car in front of Mark's office.
"There are still vacancies in the hotels and motels along the beach, you know. We could pick up your things and check you into a hotel until you decide what day you're going to marry me," he informed her, still running the motor to keep the car's air conditioning going while they discussed the future.
Turning to him, she laid her hand on his arm.
"Steve, I think a lot of you, and please don't think I'm ungrateful to you for saving my life, but I don't love you enough to marry you. We've had some swell times together, and you're everything a girl would want in a husband. You're tender, kind, and the sweetest man I've ever met, but I can't control how I feel about Mark."
"I can't figure you out, Connie. You say Mark has never said he loves you, he's rough and a devil-may-care type of person, and you want to throw your life away on a man like that. I can give you love, understanding, and anything in a financial way you could want. Somehow you seem to be a part of me, and it's going to be hard getting you out of my system."
She watched an elderly woman lead a French poodle along the sidewalk for a few moments, before she spoke.
"Steve, you aren't in love with me. I satisfy your sexual desires, and you're mistaking lust for love. Sex does enter into the love picture to a certain extent, but sooner or later even that would get old, and then where would we be? Mark may not love me, and if that is true, then that leaves me out in the cold. I can go back home and get my job back. I wrote the people I worked for that I wouldn't be back after my vacation was over, but I could change that. Maybe that's what I should do. Vacation romances very seldom last after the summer's over," she said, opening the door of the car.
Mark's secretary grinned at Connie, as she passed the desk going into Mark's private office. He was sitting behind his desk reading a transcript of a case he had been working on as they entered.
"Where in the hell have you been since last night?" he half shouted. Then noticing Steve, he grinned and continued, "I should've known when the police said you left in a car with your boy friend."
Connie sat in one of the large chairs and crossed her legs, smiling at Mark, as Steve flopped down in another chair.
"Well, Mark, it looks as if you'll have your revenge. Mama Lou's where her kind of people belong," she said, breaking the silence between them.
Mark looked over at Steve as he lit his pipe.
"You should've been a policeman, Steve. Twice, now, you've found Connie when the police and I couldn't get a lead. I hope your reward last night was worth it."
Steve reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette and offered one to Connie.
"On the contrary, Mark, the motel register at Cocoa Beach will show that Connie and I occupied separate rooms. I won't admit I tried, but when a girl belongs to someone else, then I look elsewhere for a playmate," he said, standing and walking towards the door. Looking down at Connie, he smiled. "The ride has been most pleasant and exciting, kid, perhaps we'll meet again some day."
"Where in the hell are you going?" Mark asked, taking his pipe from his mouth.
Steve grinned and winked at Mark.
"There's another little girl who needs to be rescued, and if she tells me she's in love with someone else, I'm going to hand her back to the wolves. Good luck, Connie, if you don't make the grade, let me know where you spend your vacation next year," he said, backing out the door and closing it gently behind him.
"That guy sounds like a nut. He doesn't make sense," Mark stated, getting up and walking over to Connie.
Reaching down, he took the girl by the hand and pulled her to her feet. Slipping his arm around her, he pressed his mouth against her lips as he whispered:
"Are you sure Steve didn't do this last night?"
Connie smiled up at him with a face of innocence.
"On my word as a virtuous girl, I slept the whole night through. I looked at my wrist watch when I went to bed, and it was eleven-thirty and I never saw Steve again until this morning. Besides, what business is it of yours if I slept with every man in the State of Florida?"
"I can't have my girl checking in and out of motels with different men, especially when I'm losing sleep wondering where she is," he said, as his hand dropped to her breast.
Pushing him away, Connie walked over to the desk and picked up a pen.
"There's a little matter of payment for a job well done," she said, handing Mark the pen.
Shaking his head, he reached over and took her by the shoulders.
"The deal was that I'd give you five thousand dollars to deliver me the man who caused my sister's death. We have six men in jail, but I still don't know which one killed my sister."
Connie looked down at the floor and then turned away from the man.
"Mama Lou told me the man's name who stole your sister's money, but I didn't tell you, because I wanted to see them all in jail, and I knew you'd kill him before the police got to him. Charlie was the man who went to your sister's room that afternoon. He's a good looking boy, and I can understand why your sister fell for him, but he's not right mentally, Mark, and killing him would be like killing a child. Mama Lou told me his mind comes and goes. One time he's a full grown man, then something causes his mind to snap and he's a twelve year old boy. It makes me shiver to think that poor little Bessie's at his mercy somewhere."
Mark walked over to the window and looked out. Turning around, anger was all over his face as he reached into his shoulder holster and took out his gun. Checking to be certain it was fully loaded, he slipped it back into the holster.
"If I get to that sonofabitch before the cops do, I'm going to make him pay for what he did to my sister, mind or no mind."
"I've got to get my clothes from Mama Lou's house and find me a place to live until they catch Charlie."
"I got your clothes last night and checked you back in at the South Sea Hotel. You have room twenty-six. Come on and I'll drive you over," he said, starting toward the door.
"Oh, no, Mark, I'm not going to let you get me in a hotel room with you. I've had about all the sex I can handle for a lifetime."
Mark turned and took Connie in his arms again and began kissing her cheek. His hand slipped down the front of her dress and began to gently massage the firm breast. The same feeling Mark had aroused in her before began covering her body as she clung to him.
"You don't want who in the hotel room with you?" he whispered, as their lips met and a passionate desire took control of her.
"I don't want you, I know I don't, but what can I do?" she muttered, forcing his mouth away.
"Honey, you can't do anything when Mother Nature calls us both, and she's yelling her head off right now. Hadn't we better answer her?"
Connie pushed him away and walked over to the desk and pressed the button down on the intercom.
"Mr. Adams doesn't want to be disturbed for the next two hours," she said, then flipped the button up again.
"What in the hell are you talking about, two hours?" Mark questioned.
Connie reached down and slipped her dress over her head and threw it on a chair. Taking her slip and bra off, she stood with her arms outstretched at Mark as he stood with his mouth open.
"Look, Connie, I don't mind playing around a little, but this two hour stuff you told my secretary, what gives?" he asked, walking toward her.
"We aren't going to play around, Mark." She smiled, as she continued to hold out her arms to him. "We're going to really get down to business this time. In two hours you'll either want me forever or you'll be so fed up with me you'll never want to see a nude girl again. Come on, little boy, I've got some tricks in mind that we haven't tried," she said, as Mark began taking off his shirt. With his mouth partly open, he stepped out of the rest of his clothes.
"You're a nut, Connie, but I can be just as much man as you can woman."
"Wanna bet something on that?" she asked quickly, slipping her arms around his neck.
"Yeah, I'll bet anything you want to," he replied.
"All right, little boy, let's bet the five thousand you owe me, double or nothing."
Mark nodded his head as he sought her tempting lips.
"You're crazy, Connie, but if you want to throw that much money away, don't try to make me feel like a heel and give it back to you," he said, slowly pushing the girl down on the thick carpet.
Connie made no reply as she buried her lips against his. Her hand rested on his chest and then slowly began drawing light circles over his stomach. She felt his body stiffen as her hand left his stomach and began tickling over his leg. Kissing his cheek, she let her mouth slide down to his chest, enjoying the manly odor of his body. She smiled a little to herself, as her eyes caught his fist doubled up so tight the knuckles had turned pale.
"Baby doll, where did you learn this," he whispered, as he squirmed with delight.
Connie made no reply as her mouth continued its trip over his body. Reaching down, Mark took her head in his hands and forced her back up again.
"That's enough of that, honey, it's one thing to play around, but it's something else to drive a man out of his mind."
The girl grinned to herself again as she glanced up at the clock on the wall. One hour and fifty-five minutes to go, she thought to herself as she bit her lips to fight off the torturous demands her body was making.
"Let's make this moment last forever," she whispered, as their bodies made one.
Time stood still as she closed her eyes, their kisses unending. The buzzer on the intercom sounded, as Connie regained consciousness.
"Hadn't you better answer it?" she managed to say.
"I don't think I can," Mark answered, reaching over and pulling the girl back into his arms.
"It must be important, because I told her you were not to be disturbed for two hours."
"I couldn't do anything about it if it was important.
Let's just lie here and look at each other."
"Maybe I can answer it. Your secretary might come in to see what's the matter, and we might shock her," she said, struggling to reach the instrument switch. "Yes, what is it?"
"It's been two hours and five minutes, and I have several telephone calls for Mr. Adams," the girl said, trying to muffle the giggle in her voice.
Looking over at Mark, Connie smiled.
"Tell them Mr. Adams is out, and I do mean out."
Lying back down beside the man, she used what strength she had left and smiled.
"Ten thousand or a marriage license, Mark. The choice is up to you."
Mark turned over on his back as a grin came over his face.
"Double or nothing, it's double or nothing," he sighed, as his arm fell across the sleeping girl.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Bessie couldn't determine if she had been asleep a few minutes or if she had slept the night through. She was exhausted after running through the woods with Charlie. What a difference in a man, what a complete change-over from the brutal fiend who had used the strap on her naked body, as the patient and kind man who apologized each time she stumbled and fell. They had been afraid to go near the highway, so they followed the river until they came to an abandoned shack. Tired from their flight, they had broken the lock on the door and found a crudely made cot with springs and mattress. He had insisted she sleep on the bed after closing the door to keep out any animals lurking nearby.
Sitting up on the side of the bed, she let her eyes gaze around the room. It was evident the shack had been used as a fisherman's hut, since awash pan, soap, and a bucket was on an old table. Walking to the door, she smiled to herself as she watched for a while the man sitting under a tall pine tree picking his teeth with a fallen needle.
The pangs of hunger gnawed at her stomach.
"Good morning, Charlie. Did you sleep well last night?"
Charlie jumped to his feet and grinned at her.
"Tired as I was I could've slept on a bed of rocks. Come down to the edge of the water and look what I've found," he said, walking off towards the river.
Bessie followed him down a path and watched him stand grinning at a rowboat chained to a tree stump.
"I figure we could take this boat and row up the river until we got to Daytona. Then after dark we could slip into your hotel and get your things, and you could call your father for money back to North Carolina. You wouldn't have to mention me to him, because I could hitchhike up there and you could go on ahead. By the time I got there, maybe you'd have a job all set up for me," he said, picking up the chain attached to the boat.
"There's a big lock on that chain, Charlie. How are we going to get it open?"
"I've already got that figured out. This chain leads to the front of the boat and it's attached with a big bolt. Now, if we find something, we could prize this board loose, then the boat would float free. I found a pair of oars behind the cabin while you were asleep. Now help me find a pole or something to force this board up, and we'll be on our way up the river," he replied, walking back through the woods.
Picking up several limbs that had fallen from the pine trees, he finally found one he could make a pole out of to force the plank from the boat. Picking up a rock, he laid it on the side of the boat and placed the pole under the board. The pole bent a little under the strain, but finally the rusty nails gave way and the board went sailing into the air, then down into the water. Pulling the boat further up on land, he ran to the house and in a few minutes returned with the two oars.
"Now, you sit in the back and I'll give the boat a push and off we'll go sailing into the wild blue yonder, only we don't have any sails," he said, helping Bessie into the boat.
Giving it a push, he jumped in and fastened the oars in the locks and slowly rowed out toward the middle of the river. It was hard moving the boat against the current, and several times the small craft nearly capsized, as a large cabin cruiser passed them heading toward Miami. Every few minutes Charlie was forced to rest and let the current carry them toward the opposite banks.
It was nearly noon when Charlie turned the boat toward land. Jumping out, he helped Bessie onto shore and together they lay down under the shade of a large tree. Several times they had seen beautiful waterfront homes, but the fear of being arrested kept Charlie from seeking help.
Neither of them spoke as they lay on their backs looking up through the trees at the blue sky overhead. In the distance, in the direction of the ocean, dark black clouds were rolling in. A storm seemed to be imminent, and Bessie wondered where they would go if they were caught in a tropical downpour.
She giggled a little to herself when she thought of an advertisement in a magazine she had read months ago before her vacation. "Come to sunny Florida for relaxation, fun, and thrills. Write today for a free copy of what to do and where to go in Florida." She had come to sunny Florida on her vacation, all right, but had spent more time inside away from the sun than outside. My vacation had been one thrill after another and a round of enchanting tours-like hell, she thought to herself. Things like this only happen in books, not in real life. People just don't act this way, brutal one day and kind the next, yet it had happened to her. It could have happened in her home town, because everywhere there are nasty people on the loose just waiting for a foolish girl to give them an opening. Looking over at the man beside her, she tried to study his features. His hair was sandy, and he had a ruddy, outdoor complexion. Except for the scar on his left cheek bone, there didn't seem to be a blemish on his smooth, child-like face. What had come over him to cause his attitude towards her to change so abruptly. He was a man of many moods, and she was praying his present frame of mind would last just a while longer. She had no intentions of meeting him in North Carolina, and she certainly wouldn't ask her father to give a mad man a job in the mill. In spite of the brutal way he had treated her, there was something about him she couldn't place. He was different, very different from any man she had ever known. There was no hatred in her heart for him, only fear that sooner or later he would return to his real personality.
Charlie looked over at her and stared for a while into her eyes. Then reaching over, he took her hand and placed it to his lips.
"You have such smooth white skin. I remember seeing an advertisement one time about a girl's smooth skin, and you look like the girl in the picture. My old man had a hobby of collecting girls' pictures he'd cut out of magazines, half naked. He had a name for each one of them. His favorite picture was the one he called Wanda. He used to tell my kid sister that if she ever got as pretty as Wanda, she could marry any rich guy that came along. He was as batty as a bed post, but I'm not. You don't think I'm crazy, do you Bessie?" he asked, half pleading with the girl.
"Certainly I don't, Charlie. You just had a funny upbringing, that's all. People can't blame you for what your father was," she explained, as he kissed her hand again.
"You gonna be my girl when we get to North Carolina?"
Bessie smiled over at him and nodded. "I'll be your girl if you want me to, Charlie, but I thought you preferred young girls."
"I do to play around with, but I never had a real friend before, and you promised you'd be my real friend."
"Don't you know it's wrong to fool around with young children? A girl my age knows what she's doing, but before a girl enters her teens, she's suppose to be innocent and pure, and if you teach them the dirty things of life, you're contributing to their downfall."
The man laughed a little, then he laughed out loud.
"I never met an innocent kid in my life. Lots of mamas think their angels are innocent, but if they only knew how much their kids knew about sex they'd cut off their tongues. That's one reason I came to Florida. I thought Daytona Beach would be a good place to pick up a half naked kid, but it's the last place I'd pick again. What kids ain't hanging on the mama and papa's hand, there's always a dirty suspicious cop around watching every move you make. Now the best place to find a kid who's ripe for pickings is in a big city around a park. Their mamas send them to the park to get rid of them, and that's where I find what I'm looking for."
Bessie watched the man's expression as it brightened, when he thought of the children he had molested over the years.
"Did you ever talk to a doctor and ask him why you're this way about children? Sometimes if a man really wants to quit, a doctor could help him."
"Why should I talk to a doctor? Just because I like little girls doesn't mean I'm a fit subject for a circus. There's nothing wrong in playing around if the girl's willing, and most of the time they make the first move. Now that's the gospel truth if I ever told it. When I read in the paper where a young girl has been raped, I always say she asked for it. Just like you're doing now. You're just asking for me to turn over and rape you," he said, throwing his strong arm over her.
"Now, what am I doing that would cause you to say I'm asking to be raped? I haven't said a word about sex, except to ask you why you wanted to molest little girls."
"That's just what I'm talking about. You knew that would get me all worked up, and that's why you did it, so I'm going to oblige you and do it with you."
Bessie frowned as she watched the man stand and begin removing his trousers. For a few minutes she lay fascinated, staring up at the now nude man. Her eyes blazed with fire, and her hands shook a little as she fought the queer feeling coming over her. She rolled over on her side and laid her head on her arm, trying to keep from looking at the man above her. She wasn't afraid of him, but herself. The fact that it wasn't her that caused him to become excited andworked up, but the thought of little girls being seduced. For a moment she felt a little resentment and then rolled back on her back and stretched her arms languidly. She looked up at the sun being blackened out by the dark rolling clouds, then again her eyes rested on the nude form above her.
She wanted him, that's what made her angry. To think that she would crave a mentally sick man worried her. Perhaps she too was losing her mind after the terrible ordeal she had experienced. Who knows, maybe she would wind up just like him, craving little boys and yes, even perhaps little girls. After all, didn't she swoon each time Connie took her body in her arms for love? Was it love, or was it nasty doings in the name of love? She knew in her heart she didn't love another woman, so it must be the dirt that's in everyone coming to the surface.
The man didn't make a move toward the girl, but stood as if posing for a physical education magazine as he looked down at her. He's an egotistical ass, all men are egotistical asses. He thinks because I'm a woman I'll fall to his knees and beg him for release from this torment. Yes, this torment that has taken control of my senses. She tried to look away and think of other things, but her eyes were being forced to look at him. He was pretty, he was beautiful, if you could call a man beautiful. The muscles in his chest rose and fell, as he breathed fire from his nostrils into her body.
Unconsciously, Bessie pushed herself up from the ground and started removing her blouse. She looked into his eyes without batting an eyelash, as she continued removing her clothes.
She now stood before him, stripped to the skin. He had not asked her to remove any clothing, in fact he hadn't said a word since becoming naked himself. She looked at his face, then down on his hairy chest. Closing her eyes, she let her head drop and tried not to open them, but something else, not her, opened her eyes as she stared at him.
Her body was tingling with excitement, and her head seemed to expand, as she raised her arms and threw them around his broad shoulders. She was no longer Bessie Lake, a young girl waiting to be raped by a fiend, she was a robot who seemed to move without knowledge from within. Slipping her arms tightly around his neck, she slowly pressed her lips to his unmoving mouth. Suddenly his arms engulfed her body, and she could feel the wet sticky sweat popping out over him. She wanted to rub her body against his sweat so that she too might feel dirty and evil. Slowly at first and then in rhythm, their bodies began rolling around together. Their lips seemed to be sewn together, and it was impossible for her to remove her mouth for a second.
Then he broke the spell, pushing her gently back and kneeling before her. He kissed her stomach several times, then rose to his feet and took her small breast in his hand.
"Did you ever see a baby nurse its mother?" he asked softly.
Bessie made no reply as she watched him knead her breast and then slip it into his mouth as if he were a hungry baby. His hand gently stroked her back, then down on her buttocks. Then he again took her in his arms and the circular motion returned, sending first cold and then hot chills over her body.
The world was spinning around, as she closed her eyes and was gently laid down on the soft pine needles. The ground seemed to explode out from under her, as his body set off waves of shocks that left her helpless.
A few minutes later, she came out of it, as large drops of rain started falling on her face. She was satisfied and yet she wasn't. She didn't want that strange feeling to end so abruptly. Why did he have to be a jack rabbit, when he must know that every nerve in her body was still crying for more of his rough tatics.
"Wet clothes are hard enough to have against your body when they're already on, but to put wet clothes on a dry body is hell," he said reaching for his shorts.
There was no excuse for it, Bessie told herself over and over again. Just no excuse at all. She called herself all kinds of a fool, but no sooner than she would be in complete accord with herself, than the same tingling feeling would come over her. She had dressed, and together they half walked and half ran through the woods, until they came to the highway. Leading the way down the side of the road, Charlie walked quickly toward a building he spotted in the distance, with Bessie trailing behind him. They passed a road sign telling them the town of Edgewater was near.
Inside the small store, Steve slowly puffed away on a cigarette while talking to the proprietor and his small, chubby wife.
"If you happen to see the man with this girl, don't let on you recognize them, because he is a dangerous man. I've been to practically every service station and store up and down the highway, but so far I've had no luck," Steve said, walking over to the door.
Running quickly from the store, he opened his car door and jumped in. For a moment he sat with the motor running, waiting for the windshield wiper to clear the water from the glass. Engaging the gear, the car left the driveway and began gaining speed down the road.
As he passed the couple walking toward him, he gave a fleeting glance and continued on down the road, thinking of Connie and the previous night they had spent in the motel. Suddenly the picture came to him that he had passed Bessie and her kidnapper. Stopping quickly, he turned the car around and headed up the other side of the four-lane highway. His eyes searched through the blinding rain, until the two rain-soaked people came into view. Passing the couple again, he applied the brakes as the car's rear skidded around and stopped on the shoulder of the highway. He jumped from the car and started running toward them.
Before Charlie realized what had happened, Steve's fist had connected with his chin, and he found himself on his back in the wet grass. Like a flash of lightening, Steve was on top of the startled man and was landing repeated blows to his face. Bessie screamed and attempted to pull Steve from the now-bleeding body beneath him.
"Don't hit him, he's trying to help me," she screamed, as Charlie gave Steve a kick, sending him rolling over on the ground.
Taking advantage of the few seconds he had before Steve could recover, Charlie jumped to his feet and darted across the highway. A blast from a tractor-trailer truck and then a loud thud, then Charlie's body lay bleeding on the other side of the road.
Bessie gave another scream, then fell to the ground in a faint, as her eyes saw the crushed body sprawled on the side of the road. Steve pushed himself from the ground and walked slowly over to the girl, picking her up in his arms. He stood in a daze, staring at the body across the road, as the truck driver came running up to him.
"Did I hit them both?" he asked desperately.
Steve shook his head, unable to speak.
"The girl just fainted, he was the only one you hit," he managed to say. "Don't let it trouble you, friend, he was a no good sonofabitch. He was the last of a gang of rats that needed exterminated."
"Hey, wait a minute, mister," he yelled, as Steve carried the girl slowly to his car. "I gotta have a witness that he ran in front of my truck. What's your name and where can I locate you?"
Steve turned wearily and looked at the man standing in the drenching rain.
"I'm Steve Crawford of the Miami Detective Bureau, and this is one hell of away to spend a vacation, chasing after rats like that," he said, as the man stood looking at him, with his mouth open.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The following morning the rain had stopped, and the sun shone brightly through the window. Dragging his tired body from the bed, Steve walked over and looked down on the boardwalk. Scratching his chest with his fingernails, he yawned and made his way to the bathroom.
After a shave and a warm shower, he dressed for the day. As he closed his door and started for the elevator, a young girl gave him a winsome smile. It was evident she hadn't been in the beach area long, since her skin showed no trace of tan.
"No, thank you, little one," he mused to himself. "I came here for a rest and have worked harder than I have on any other case. A little fun on the side is all right, I guess, but when you become involved in a rotten racket, kidnapping, and murder, it ceases to be fun."
After a king-size breakfast in the coffee shop, Steve called for his car and drove to the police station. Detective Boatwright's face beamed as he entered the man's office.
"Well, the case is all wrapped up and ready for the grand jury," he said proudly, as Steve made himself comfortable in an easy chair. "Thanks to you meddling into police business, Daytona Beach is once again a safe place for young girls to spend their vacation. This racket got started before we had any knowledge of it, but from now on any girl who allows a young man to enter her room for immoral purposes will be dealt with along with the boy. This has always been a safe beach, and as long as there's a cop left, it'll remain that way."
"Rackets like this one aren't confined just to the beach area, you know," Steve informed. "As long as girls go to summer resorts alone and fall for a good-looking face, there's always the possibility that the good-looking face belongs to some kind of vicious racket. You boys can do your job well, but until young girls realize the seriousness of becoming acquainted with strange men, racketeers such as Mama Lou will flourish, in spite of the police."
"To be just a businessman, you seem to know quite a bit about police work. Just what is your line of work?"
Steve grinned at the man.
"You could say I'm in the security business," he said, handing the Detective his card.
The man looked at the card, then slowly shook his head.
"Well, I'll be dog gone, a Miami Bureau man. That was the best piece of detective work, pulling the wool over our eyes. Why didn't you let us know who you were?"
"Well, even us Miamians get to have a vacation once in a while. I guess this will be one vacation I'll remember for a long time," he said, reaching over the desk for his card.
Rising, Steve walked to the door and turned around, grinning at the Detective.
"If you're down around Miami, drop in and say hello," he said, waving his hand at the bewildered man.
Steve returned to his hotel and packed his suitcase. Several times he stopped his packing and stared into space, thinking of Bessie. Finally, going to the telephone, he asked the operator to connect him with the South Sea Hotel. He waited impatiently for a few minutes until the connection was made to room 224.
"Hello," a sweet, feminine voice answered.
"Hello, yourself. Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Yes, thank you, we've eaten. Who is this?"
"I'm the big hero who rescued you from the big bad wolf," he teased.
Oh, Steve, how are you this morning? Bessie and I were just talking about you," Connie said.
"I'm sorry, I thought you were Bessie, but I did rescue you, too. May I speak to Bessie?" he asked.
"Hello, Steve. It's good to hear your voice," Bessie said sweetly.
"I was wondering if I might see you before I leave?"
"You aren't leaving, are you?" she answered, in surprise.
"Yes, I've got to get back to my job. Vacations don't last forever, as you should know. I was wondering if we couldn't take a short ride this morning, since I'm not leaving until after the sun goes down. I prefer driving at night, it's much cooler."
I think that would be a wonderful idea. Connie has a date to have lunch with Mark, and that leaves me alone."
"Swell, I'll pick you up in about ten minutes," Steve said, hanging up the telephone.
Walking over to the dresser, he looked at himself in the mirror.
Steve, you handsome devil, you have a date with a beautiful doll," he said aloud, running his hand through his hair.
A short while later, Bessie and Steve rode slowly toward Deland, talking about the weather and the storm they had during the night.
"When are you going home?" he asked. "Oh, I don't know. Mark said it would be all right for me to go back now, but they want me to come back for the trial. It's going to be hard explaining to my father why I have to return to Daytona Beach. I can't tell him that I allowed a strange man to sleep with me. I don't know how all this mess is going to turn out."
Bessie, I've been thinking about resigning my job and settling down on a farm somewhere. Most of my work has been a desk job for years, and I'd like to get out in the open. I guess this sounds a little premature, but the idea of living on a farm alone doesn't seem to appeal to me any longer. I'm a good deal older than you, but I'd consider it an honor if you'd share that farm with me."
Bessie gave him a shocked look.
"Steve, I know I've done wrong since coming to Daytona Beach, but I'm not a prostitute. My people are decent, respectible citizens, and I can't understand you asking me to live with you on a farm."
"What's so disrespectful about living on a farm with me?"
"It isn't just a farm, but to pretend to people that I'm your wife, I just can't do a thing like that."
Steve looked at the frowning girl.
"Who'd be pretending? That was just my clumsy way of asking you to marry me. I know I'm not a prize catch for a girl, but after all, I'm a man," he said, slowing the car down for a curve.
"You want me to marry you and live on a farm?"
"All right, if I got off limits, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you. Let's forget I even mentioned it and talk about something else."
"I don't want to talk about something else, I want to talk about living on a farm with you," she said, sliding her body close to him.
"You mean you'll marry me?" he asked excitedly.
"If you want me after I tell you something, I'll marry you any time you say, but you must hear me out first."
"Baby, I don't have to hear anything, I've heard everything when you said you'd marry me," he said, stopping the car and taking her into his arms.
"Wait a minute, Steve, maybe you won't want me after I tell you this," she said, pushing him away.
"Tell me anything you want to, sugar, it won't make one bit of difference. I've been alone in this world so long, the thought of having you as my wife sends chills over my body."
"Well, here's something to freeze your blood vessels. I didn't come to Daytona Beach for a vacation, I came because I'm pregnant. When I found out about it, I withdrew my money out of the bank and caught a bus down here. I couldn't bring myself to tell my parents the truth. You see, I live in Littleton, North Carolina, all right, but my father isn't president of the mill. In fact, he only works there, the same as I did. I had a date one night with a salesman and just went too far. I don't even know who he is, except his name's Henry Perkins, and he was from New Jersey," she said, pausing a moment. "Now that you know the truth about me, do you still want this whore for your wife?" Bessie asked, as tears started to roll down her cheeks.
Steve sat staring over the hood of the car for several minutes. Turning to the sobbing girl, he slipped his arm around her.
"Life has never been very exciting for me behind a desk, and now the prospects of having someone to be with me excites me more than anything in the world. Maybe this vacation I've taken will prove profitable after all. Not only have I gained a wife, but a ready made family to boot. If you'll have me, Bessie, I know that sooner or later we're bound to love each other."
She looked up at him through tear-dimmed eyes and tried to smile.
"How could I help but love a man as kind as you? I haven't been bad all my life, and if you'll try to erase from your memory what bad I've done, I'll do my best to make you a good wife."
"They have a waiting period in Florida before you can get married, but if you don't change your mind, we'll be married the minute the time's up," he said, kissing the girl gently on her tear-stained cheek.
Turning the car back on the road, Steve drove into DeLand and parked in front of the court house. A few minutes later, he backed out and slowly drove through the town past the University. Young girls with their books under their arms walked down the sidewalk toward a nearby building.
"Study hard, young ladies, and keep boys out of your bedrooms," Bessie advised, slipping her arm around Steve. "Are you going back to Daytona Beach and break the news to Mark and Connie?"
Steve shook his head, as he turned the car toward the highway out of town.
"We'll call them from Sarasota, we're going to take a premarital honeymoon," he said, as the car gained speed.
"Maybe they'd like to take a premarital honeymoon, too. Connie told me this morning that Mark said he'd rather marry her than pay her ten thousand dollars," she said, as Steve gave her a puzzled look.
"Some silly bet they made together. Connie wouldn't tell me what it was, but said she'd rather have Mark than the money."
Bessie felt a little peculiar as they passed through Samsula toward the main highway. Some time later she looked out over the ocean and watched the crowds swimming and sunbathing.
"They seem to be having lots of fun," she said, watching several young people playing volley ball.
"The beach can be fun, and sex on the beach can be thrilling, but the price one pays for those thrills sometimes isn't worth it. I hope you haven't had enough sex to last you a while, because where we're going, we'll see very little of the beach," he said.
Bessie laid her head on his shoulders and closed her eyes. The picture before her was Charlie standing, looking down, tormenting her with his body. The same feeling began to take hold of her as she muttered:
"Go faster, sweetheart, I can hardly wait."
"What did you say, honey?"
Bessie opened her eyes and smiled at him.
"Nothing, darling, I was just dreaming about what's in store for you."
