Well, it was a dream whose time had come! She had fantasized about it long enough. Picturing herself in romantic places, mysterious cities, dangerous environments. She was all grown up now, a mature, sensuous woman, and now was the time to either kill it or cure it! Women's Lib was a reality, and ERA was quickly moving toward reality too. She had just read that there was practically no field of employment that wasn't now open to women. And even the president was talking about drafting them for military duty! So why couldn't she, Ruth Tard, become what she always wanted to be? She could think of no valid reason against it. Yet... why were her knees shaking?
She knew all the counts were against her to begin with. She was a young woman, tall and beautiful and redheaded at that!
Sudden anger welled up in her, a feeling of frustration at the handicap -- being a woman -- that threatened to cut her off from the career she had dreamed of since she was in her teens and had read her first detective novel. Halfway down the block, she turned sharply and retraced her steps on flat heels, making straight for the revolving door of the tallest building in town.
While waiting for the elevator, she located "J. B. Humphries, Private Detective Agency, 1435" on the building directory. She knew perfectly well that the thirteenth floor of this building was called the fourteenth in deference to the qualms of the superstitious. Now a quick addition of the office numbers revealed that they added up to thirteen also. Mere chance? Or did J. B. have a little streak of superstition himself, thinking thirteen lucky? She doubted thirteen was lucky for her.
The elevator door finally glided open before her, and a gorgeous hulk of a man stepped out. Ruth looked after him a little longingly as he headed briskly down the lobby. Tall men were her obsession. What shoulders, what carriage, what eager quickness in his stride! She wouldn't have to wear flats to dance with a man like that. He must be at least six feet two. Just perfect for her five feet ten.
As she stepped into the elevator, however, she tried to wash him out of her mind. The career she craved would probably leave little time for dates. As the car shot upward she tried to focus her mind on the coming interview. She had learned through a friend, Elaine Graham, a nurse in a doctor's office on the same floor as J. B.'s office, that Humphries's stenographer was quitting her job to get married. She also knew that Humphries had been a detective at local police headquarters until his retirement, when he opened his office as a private operative. She had followed his work with admiration when he broke up a huge numbers racket, in spite of payoffs in higher circles. She believed he was an honest person, with a sort of anthracite hardness in dealing with lawbreakers.
"Which way is J. B. Humphries's office?" she asked the elevator boy when the car had stopped at the top floor.
He motioned to the left, saying, "End of the hall."
Several moments later Ruth was rapping firmly on the glass-paneled door marked with the detective's name. A typewriter inside stopped clacking, and a very feminine voice said, "Come in."
Ruth entered to find a small, attractive brunette slipping a cover over her typewriter. Ruth saw at once that she was too pretty to have an office job for anything except a. bridge to wedding bells. But she found keen alertness in the girl's glance when she turned to ask, "What can I do for you?"
"I'd like to see Mr. J. B. Humphries, please."
"He's with a client, but should be out any minute now." The girl glanced at her watch. "I'm on my way to lunch. There're magazines on the table. Please make yourself comfortable while you wait."
The girl took out her compact, gave her straight little nose a pat or two, and went out. Instead of sitting down with a magazine, Ruth strode restlessly to the windows that looked down on the Savannah River flowing two blocks beyond the building. A couple of blocks west rose the patrol car antenna at police barracks. Across the river on the Carolina side, two much taller towers rose above the local television stations.
On Reynolds Street just behind the building, through traffic was zooming past at a rapid rate. Ruth had heard her father say often how this street had been called Cotton Row when he was a boy. Gone now were the fluffy bales that used to line the sidewalks and stuff the warehouses. The Atomic Age had moved in, and the street was now an artery for fast traffic moving toward the Savannah River Atomic Plant.
Ruth had been standing at the window perhaps three minutes when she sensed, rather than heard, someone behind her. She wheeled, a bit startled to face J. B. Humphries himself. He must have let his client out another door. His powerful broad shoulders and huge frame made him seem stocky, though he was perhaps not more than an inch shorter than Ruth. His square face was grim and unsmiling. Ruth wondered how anyone with guilt in his heart could meet those piercing dark eyes unflinchingly.
"Well, what can I do for you?" barked J. B. His tone was impatient as if time were pressing.
"I understand you will soon need a stenographer and assistant here. I'm Ruth Tard." She put her card on the desk as she spoke. "I've come to apply for the job."
"But I haven't advertised for help," J. B. retorted loudly.
"But I happen to know that Helen Stevens is getting married and moving away. I wanted to put in my bid before you advertised and somebody else got ahead of me," Ruth continued, determined not to let him intimidate her.
She opened her purse and took out a recommendation from an office she had worked in a couple of years ago, before she started nurse's training. "I took a business course in high school," she informed him.
"Humph," he grunted. "You must've been out of high school several years."
"Yes, I have. I'm twenty-five," stated Ruth, feeling her maturity would impress him. "But to be perfectly frank, Mr. Humphries, what I want to do more than anything in the world is to be a detective."
"Detective!" he snorted. "Ridiculous! What would I do with a woman detective -- and a good-looking redheaded one at that?"
"There're a thousand ways a woman can serve as a detective much more effectively than a man," she came back at him.
He hadn't even asked her to be seated. But she looked squarely into his almost-black eyes, so sharp and hard they reminded her of twin bullets.
"Why, you'd get yourself killed the first time you were out on an assignment. Preposterous! And I don't need another detective anyhow. I have as fine a young man as can be found in the country." He turned away a moment to fumble with a letter opener on the large desk beside the typewriter table. Suddenly he whirled back at her. "You came in asking for my stenographer's job, and now you're wanting to be a detective."
"Please, Mr. Humphries, give me a try. I'd do anything to get into a detective's office." She swallowed her resentment of his rudeness to add: "I've always admired your work. I've followed every case you've cleared in recent years. I -- I admire your honesty. If you'll just let me come in as a stenographer, I think I can prove I'll be useful along detective lines, too."
He was looking at the letter of recommendation when she finished speaking. He glanced up now to say accusingly, "This letter was written a couple of years ago. What have you been doing since?"
"Various things. I spent the last year taking nurse's training, but it wasn't for me. I couldn't stand being shut in with sick people."
"Humph! I have no patience with a woman who can't stick on a job."
"It's because I've never been able to do the thing I really want to do. My family tries to block me every time. I've always wanted to be a detective, I tell you."
"Absurd! Your family's right. You, with that hair, that figure, and that face -- a detective! You wouldn't get to first base. What would you do if some criminal came at you like this?" Quicker than thought he snatched the letter opener from the desk and pretended to come at her with it.
Almost instinctively Ruth met his advance with the jujitsu disarming trick her brother had taught her. The amazed J. B. let the letter opener drop from his hand. His usually masklike face betrayed an expression of chagrin, then anger, on finding she could cope with him. The anger flared into wrath when there was a hearty laugh from the inner door. Ruth turned to see the tall man she had noticed getting off the elevator ten minutes before.
"Why J. B., don't tell me you're getting rusty at the old tricks!" exclaimed the six-footer, still unable to control his mirth.
"The nerve of her," growled J. B. "Coming here to ask me to take her on as a detective. A looker like that -- and a red-head! I couldn't use her if she had the deductive ability of a Holmes."
"And I wouldn't work for .you if you were the last detective agency on earth!" retorted Ruth with equal venom. Then she turned and flashed her blue eyes at the younger man. "If you're his assistant, how you can stand him is more than I can see."
With that she turned and sprinted from the room, giving the door a slam as she went out. She could still hear the younger man's hearty laughter as she punched the elevator bell almost through the wall.
Ruth's temper generally subsided as quickly as it flared up, leaving her embarrassed and contrite, and by the time she reached the lobby she wished she had maintained better control. Perhaps her disarming tactics had impressed J. B. more than he wanted to admit. With the help of his good-natured assistant she might have been able to work herself into the office. Maybe she should go back and apologize. Feeling that a cup of coffee might settle her nerves, she stepped into the lunchroom that opened into the lobby not far from the revolving door.
She was perched at the counter, stirring cream into her coffee, when another elevator began emptying into the lobby. But her mind wasn't on the hurrying people but her own problem as she glanced idly that way. Suddenly she tensed. It was J. B.'s handsome assistant, exchanging a few words with the elevator boy, who motioned toward the lunchroom with his thumb. The next moment the man was striding toward her.
"Am I in luck!" he exclaimed as he reached her side and touched her lightly on the shoulder, for she had turned her face away the instant she realized he was coming in her direction.
"Oh, it's you," she said dully, putting into her tone an indifference she did not feel. She tried to remain unmoved when the man smiled down at her as if still relishing the dilemma in which he had caught J. B.
"I want to talk with you," he said, becoming a bit more serious.
"I can't see that there's anything more to be said," she retorted coolly. But she was bursting with curiosity.
"Couldn't we sit at one of the tables over there by the wall -- where it's more private?" he persisted.
"I'm afraid you're wasting your time. I wouldn't work for -- "
"Oh, that's not what I want to talk about."
He picked up her coffee cup as he spoke, and with the other hand helped her glide from the tall stool. What in the world could he want to talk about beside the job? Too curious to dissemble longer, Ruth followed him to a table for two in a more secluded spot against the wall.
A waitress was hovering near as they sat down, and she asked, "What'll it be this noon, Mr. Marston? The hot-roast sandwiches are extra good today."
"That suits me fine, Clara, and another cup of coffee. How about something to eat, too, Miss Tard?"
How did he know her name? She recalled distinctly he wasn't in the room when she introduced herself to J. B. Then she remembered the card she had left on the desk with her address and phone number. He had certainly gotten the facts promptly after she left. All this flashed through her mind while she was thinking she might as well have lunch while they talked.
"The roast sandwich sounds tempting," she agreed.
"Now you're being the nice girl you look to be," he said, pleased.
When the waitress had gone he was suddenly chuckling again. "It did me good all over to see you frisk that letter opener out of J. B.'s hand."
"Oh, he didn't fool me," Ruth had to admit. "He could have gotten the best of me. He let it drop for fear he'd really hurt me. He's strong as an ox."
"But you were really right on the ball," he said with admiration. "I came through the other door to the inner office and heard you arguing and was just in time to see the show. Where did you learn that trick?"
"My brother Jerry taught me what he learned about jujitsu. He had a year of training for FBI work before. he came down with polio."
"Oh -- I'm sorry."
"He taught my younger brother, Harry, and me. Harry and I still put in lots of practice whenever I go home."
"Where's home?"
"South Georgia -- a farm. I have three brothers. I suppose being raised among boys helped me get interested in a man's career."
"It intrigues me," he confessed. "The idea of a woman detective."
"Really?" She beamed.
The waitress came just then with the sandwiches and the coffee for Marston. When she had gone, he said, "I've often been in a spot where a woman would be most valuable as an investigator."
"That's what I tried to tell that old bear upstairs," Ruth complained. "But all he could see was my red head."
"It's beautiful," Phil Marston said softly. "I wouldn't call it red, really, but a beautiful reddish gold."
She found herself flushing under his frank scrutiny. "Thanks," she said. "My brothers call me `Goldie.' But my hair doesn't need to be a handicap in my work. I'm expert at makeup. I always wear my hair short. A couple of wigs I have from my drama club work in college easily fit over my short mop."
"What else do you do that equips you for detective work?" he asked with growing interest. "Jujitsu, makeup artist, what else?"
She found herself warming to him. "Well, I can fly a Cub plane, and I'm pretty good at ham radio, so Jerry says. I can take one apart and put it together, too. It helps Jerry pass many a lonely hour. He can use his right hand well enough to manipulate it."
"And where did you learn to fly?"
"My younger brother, Harry, is a crop duster. He has his own little Cub. He taught me. I have my pilot's license."
"Say," he exclaimed, real admiration in his tone, "J. B. sure slipped a cog when he didn't examine your credentials more carefully."
"Oh, I saw at once that he's the kind who looks down on women as inferior creatures -- incapable of deductive powers."
"He knows how tough this racket is. But I can see where you'd be an asset to any agency."
"You needn't soft-soap me," she told him, getting wary. "I wouldn't work for that man if -- "
"I know," he broke in with a chuckle, "if he were the last man in the world."
"I thought you said that wasn't what you wanted to talk to me about," she said accusingly.
"It isn't," he asserted. "I believe you can give me some information about a man I'm trying to run down."
CHAPTER TWO
Philip Marston finished his sandwich and pulled his cooling cup of coffee toward him. Ruth waited across the table, picking up the last bit of the juicy sandwich with her fork, her curiosity seething. But she was determined not to show it. Who was he trailing? And why did he think she could give him information?
Phil's countenance had become almost as masklike as J. B.'s as he leaned farther across the table and said in a low tone, "When you were in training, you did part-time nursing duty for a patient who called himself Gus Stuben?"
"Yes, I did," she replied, looking into his eyes with equal candidness. She had a habit of thinking at two levels. Even while she wondered what was pending, she thought what interesting eyes he had. They were hazel, with brown specks that actually seemed to flash when he smiled. But how they varied in expression from stern to gently humorous.
She felt a stirring of excitement. She herself had been more than curious about Gus Stuben several weeks ago, before she gave up the idea of being a nurse. "Why? Is he under investigation?" she asked.
He didn't answer her question, but countered with the remark, "I had you on my list to question when I noticed your card on the desk upstairs. I decided I'd better seize my opportunity. I'd like to have you tell me everything you can recall about him -- what he looked like, how he talked, what sort of patient he was -- well, your general impression of him."
"To put it in a nutshell, I thought he was a mysterious, queer old codger with a huge question mark. And my curiosity about him ended up by my quitting the whole nursing profession."
"How was that?" There was surprise in his tone as he glanced sharply at her.
"Miss Jopling, the head nurse, accused me of trying to pry into the private life of a patient and bawled me out. I was about sick of the whole business anyhow, and by that time I had realized I didn't have the makings of a good nurse."
"I'm surprised you ever went into it, when you had these detective aspirations."
"I thought I'd like it after I helped Mom look after Jerry when he came down with polio. But it was different in a hospital. I had patience with Jerry because I would have died if it could have helped him. But in the hospital I found I got restless being shut up eight hours a day with suffering, irritable sick people. So when Miss Jopling bawled me out for being too curious about Stuben, I told her she could take care of him herself and walked out."
"What made you so curious about Stuben?"
"Well, for one thing, absolutely nobody came to see him the whole month he was there. When he was picked up on the street, in a diabetic coma, there wasn't a shred of identification on him. He had only a worn billfold with a few bills and some small change in it."
"Go on," urged Phil.
"When he came out of the coma, he gave his name as Gus Stuben, claiming he was a transient in town when he fell ill. But I heard that the man who picked him up off the sidewalk and brought him in said there was a bag of groceries spilled beside him on the sidewalk."
"So he must have been living here."
"But we couldn't get any address out of him. He hadn't a single visitor, though money came in the mail for him a few days after he arrived. After that he had special nurses. My roommate, Lisa, was one of them."
"Miss Elizabeth Wendell?"
"That's right. You really have the data," she added with admiration. "Funny thing -- Lisa felt sorry for the old codger. She thought he must be very lonely without any family to be concerned about him. She sort of bent over backwards trying to be nice to him."
"How old would you say he was and what did he look like?"
"In his fifties. A stocky man, too heavy for his bad heart. Beginning to go bald. Evidently he hadn't been paying much attention to his diet. Foreign flavor to his English, and he seemed highly educated."
Phil laughed. "This has been one of the most thorough accounts I've ever heard. Would it be asking too much to get the most important points down on tape?"
"No. I suppose it's best to have a record of the information somewhere. You could be hit by a bus tomorrow."
"Thanks a lot."
Phil signaled for the check. Trying not to stare, Ruth enjoyed a long gaze at the hand some detective. His tall, muscular build and hazel eyes were very attractive features. She wondered if he had another reason for going up to use a tape recorder. Several lewd thoughts passed quickly through the young girl's mind, each one causing a tingling sensation in her loins. But in his office? She almost laughed. She had to remember she was in a business situation.
"Ready?" Phil asked.
Ruth nodded and they left. They took the elevator back up to the agency. The receptionist was still out, and apparently J. B. was also because the offices were empty. Phil led her into his and seated her in a chair before his desk.
"Okay, where's the tape recorder?" Ruth asked, smiling. "Or was this a clever ruse to get me up here?"
"Please, I have my honor to protect," the detective laughed. "I have the desk wired." He pointed to a switch under the desk top. "I've found it's more comfortable for clients not to have a machine in their faces."
"That's a good idea. Should I begin?"
"Go right ahead."
As the girl began to highlight the important pieces of information, Phil's thoughts dwelled on the idea that he wished this was a ruse to seduce the pretty Ruth. He glanced sideways, admiring her red hair, blue eyes, and tall, voluptuous form. She was one of the most delectable females he'd ever encountered. Her skirt was draped above her knee, showing plenty of long, smooth leg. He wished his head was in that area, kissing and licking as he moved upward...
He gave himself an inward shake and swiveled his chair so that he faced away from the speaking girl. His thoughts had caused a very natural reaction -- a bulge between his legs that was beginning to throb with desire. He turned further to face the window. There was no sense letting Ruth know his silent musing wasn't as professional as she probably assumed. Yet he sure would like those long, lovely legs wrapped tightly around his hips!
The handsome detective would have been pleasantly surprised if he'd been able to read Ruth's mind. It was with an effort that she kept her voice steady. Having the young man only a few feet away in the privacy of his quiet office made it difficult for the pretty redhead to keep her mind on what she was saying.
The tingling she'd felt before hadn't ended when the tape recorder went on. Now she felt as though she were sitting on a candle the way her pussy was heating up and spreading its warmth throughout the rest of her body. She squirmed in the chair, desire pricking her like an itch. She was very relieved that Phil had turned his chair away from her.
"How am I coming through, Phil?" she called.
"Fine, just fine. Keep going."
If she kept going the way she really wanted to, Ruth knew she'd have her hand between her legs, driving her toward a much-needed satisfaction. Of course, she would prefer to have some good, hard pecker between her thighs, but she didn't want to let Phil know she couldn't keep her mind on business.
The beautiful young girl uncrossed her slender legs and tried to relax. Without realizing it, she placed her hands in her lap. The long fingers began to gently massage her moistening mound. She had to cease speaking as jolts of pleasure raced through her.
"Maybe I should run to the bathroom and... masturbate real quick," she muttered.
"What was that, Ruth?" Phil called.
"N-nothing," the girl stammered. "I'll go on."
As the redhead resumed her recital, Phil inwardly sighed with relief. For a startling moment he'd thought the pretty girl had discovered his ill-concealed arousal. He turned so that his back was fully toward her. The bulge between his legs was reaching epic proportions. It pulsed with potency, often threatening to rip through the straining fabric of his pants to throb in the free air.
Ruth had him so excited that the detective decided he would gladly give a week's pay to run into another office and beat himself off. But there was no way his condition could escape notice if he stood up. Suddenly, for one panic-stricken moment, he thought he heard his pants tear.
"I've got to relieve the pressure somehow!" he whispered in desperation.
Silently, his hands fumbled with his zipper. The girl's soft, high voice caressed him, driving him to a higher pitch of passion. Soon he was able to extract his inflamed member. It rose in the air like a missile ready for launching, his thick cock-head turning purple with pressure.
"Jesus, no girl ever made me this horny!" he murmured. "Imagine her lips around this... "
He barely managed to stop a groan from escaping his mouth. Then his eyes lighted on the open window less than a yard away. He knew it was the only chance he had to find the relief he desperately craved. Unable to resist, he wrapped his right hand around his large shaft and began to stroke and yank it up and down.
"I'll put a wad right out the window!" he exclaimed inwardly. "She'll never know. I've got to! Just hope no one will be walking by when it hits... it'll knock that person into next week!"
As the handsome detective worked on his pulsating pud, Ruth was trying to think of a way to cope with her own difficulties.
"Oh God, I... I've never been so hot!" she cried to herself. "If Phil would just... lick me a little bit... oh, I've got to stop this!"
But the tall redhead couldn't halt the flow of tell-tale moisture seeping through her heating twat. She spread her long legs as the massage of her mound increased vigorously. Her fingers dug into her bush, and she achingly wished she was naked in order to give herself the fulfillment she needed so badly.
"Maybe... since he's looking away... if I'm real quiet... I can do it right here!" she muttered under her breath. "It's so perverse... to finger-fuck myself right here in the office... but I can't help it!"
Ignoring her inhibitions, the voluptuous young girl slowly lifted her skirt up until it was bunched around her hips. It was only with the greatest amount of willpower that she kept her voice even as her left hand drew the edge of her soaked panties away from her curly, bronze-haired muff. Her other hand began to stroke the delicate hairs.
"Ooooh... " she moaned inwardly. "I wish I had a dildo... a baseball bat ... anything!"
Yet she realized her finger would have to do the trick or she'd go crazy. Her middle digit crawled down and rubbed the length of her dripping slit. Instantly, it was covered with syrupy, musk-scented pussy juice. She circled her steaming hole, expecting her finger to be scorched by the intense, radiating heat.
"Oh... my God!" she whispered as her finger increased its revolutions. "This is bad enough... now I wish I could massage my tittles!" Her large mounds ached with need. Her wide, protuberant nipples stuck out through her blouse, ready to pierce the thin material. Her melonlike jugs swelled outward, the erect, rosy buds dragging them to the ceiling. She slipped down in the chair and spread her legs wider. Her fingers went an inch up her blazing love tunnel, the thrills it caused nearly making her scream with lust.
"Got to... maintain control," the horny redhead breathed. "Got to do it . quietly."
Phil was having a torturous time stopping hoarse grunts of desire from escaping his lips. His purple-veined staff was red and jerking with vibrant life. His nuts ached as the white-hot jism within them began to swirl with the velocity of hurricane winds. He knew he'd have no trouble reaching the window with his load when the agonizing explosion came, but he didn't know how to avoid roaring out his need to the entire metropolitan area.
"If Ruth knew what I was doing... what would she think of me?" he whispered hoarsely. "I don't give a shit! I've got to do it or I'll go insane!"
Thus resolved, the husky detective increased his jerking strokes on his burning rod. His legs trembled and his hips began to move in a steady beating-off rhythm. The flames in his loins raged like a forest fire. He nearly laughed at what was happening here in his office. Here was this innocent redhead, seriously and demurely giving a professional account, while the detective was busy pulling his pud! It was crazy! But it was too late to stop now. His dick-demanded full attention.
"You... don't mind that I have my back to you, do you, Ruth?" he asked huskily.
"N-no, it makes it easier," the young girl replied.
It makes it easier to masturbate, she wanted to say in the hope the handsome man would turn around and see to her obvious needs. But Ruth blushed with embarrassment at the idea. She resumed her story, praying Phil wouldn't detect the whines that occasionally crept into her voice.
"I can't believe I'm doing this!" the red-head screamed inwardly. "Fingering myself in a man's office. I met him only an hour ago. What would he think if he saw me?"
But her enraged cunt told her she didn't give a damn what anyone thought, as long as she could get her satisfaction before she went bananas.
She pressed her middle finger deeper into her steaming twat, nearly biting her tongue off in the process. Slipping further down in the chair, Ruth dug her heels into the carpet and raised her ass up for a better angle. The horny redhead fed all of her slippery digit into her slit. Her hot, drenched cunt walls grasped at it, dragging it in as deep as it would go. Ruth mewled inwardly as her fiery pussy swallowed up her entire middle finger.
"Oh! Ooooh!!" she cooed in a delighted whisper. "Feels so... good! More!"
She began to work her finger in and out, circling and rubbing her quivering inner recesses. Her long, lovely legs shook with desire. As her excitement mounted, she hitched her ass up and down off the chair, creating a regular finger-fucking motion.
"I can't... help it!" the fiery redhead whispered in desperation. "I'm going to... scream! I'm too hot! I can't help myself! Ooooo... "
A few seconds before this, Phil was sure he would be the one to reveal a horny predicament. His aching balls were crying from the pressure of pent-up cum as his hand steadily beat off his throbbing wang. He was bucking in his chair, almost tumbling over from shuddering excitement.
"Jesus... I'm going to... give it all away!" he yelled inwardly. "She's going to know I'm... jerking off! I don't care! Oh shit, oh fuck!"
He threw his head back, but just as the husky detective was about to give vent to his lust-filled situation, he was shocked by the sound of a young woman obviously in the midst of intense, burning desire.
The handsome man spun around and jumped up. His eyes bulged with astonishment and his pecker lurched with delight at the wonderful sight that greeted his eyes. The luscious redhead was slumped in the chair, her lovely legs flailing before her, and she was masturbating! He blinked his eyes... but it was true!
"You want me to eat you out, baby?" he roared.
"Yes, oh please... " the young girl whimpered. "Eat my pussy... hurry!"
But before he moved, Ruth caught sight of the red, pulsating pole that stuck out of his pants. She smiled and licked 'her lips as she understood the situation.
"Let me suck your cock, Phil," the red-head pleaded. "We'll do it to each other!"
"Right on!" the detective cried. "Let's get out of these clothes first!"
Ruth leaped out of the chair to comply. In a twinkling her clothes lay in a pile around her ankles. Just as fast, Phil shed his constraining garments and viciously threw them aside. He stood before her, displaying the naked power of his husky manhood.
"Come on, honey!" he bellowed. "Let's do some sixty-nine before I fuck you!"
"Yes, that's what I want!" Ruth cried.
In a raging fury, the husky detective swept his arm across his desk, shoving everything onto the floor. He jumped up and lay back on the hard surface.
"Get up here and give me your pussy!" he demanded. "And eat my cock!"
Mewling with pleasure, the lively redhead, her large, swollen tits bouncing, hopped up onto Phil and lowered her dripping mound to his face. Phil wasted no time beginning his delicious feast. Parting her slippery twat lips, he shoved his tongue deep into Ruth's burning womb.
"Aaaaah! That's it... fuck my cunt with your tongue!" she squealed.
She greedily fell to her portion of the lusty action. She lowered her hungry mouth and wrapped her full, red lips around his thick, purple cockhead. With loud slurping noises she sucked up his dribbling pre-cum. Then, famished for more, she pressed her face down, swallowing every inch of his throbbing man-meat.
"Yeah, Ruth, eat it!" Phil yelled, shoving his hips upward. "Blow my big prick!"
The luscious redhead's reply was muffled by a mouthful of thick cock. The hard tip banged against the back of her throat. Her tongue worked furiously, licking the length of his long shaft. A red mist of lust filled her brain as she began to bob her head up and down on the invading pole.
"Go, baby, go!" the detective cheered. "You sure know how to suck me off!"
And he knew how to eat pussy, as he immediately showed. He buried his face in her hot, flowing twat and nibbled on her quaking cunt walls. His tongue snaked in and out, licking every available ounce of musky love juice. Then he stiffened his tongue, thrusting it in as far as it would go, and the lusty girl responded by humping her hips up and down on the sensuous invader.
"Eat... meeeee!" Ruth wailed, then she resumed pistoning her head on his upraised dork.
"Suck it! Blow it!" Phil shouted encouragingly.
They went at it with desperate energy, eating each other up like starved wildcats. The pressure rapidly mounting in the beautiful redhead told her an explosion was imminent. On his part, the intense ache in Phil's nuts informed him that any attempt at restraint would be futile.
"Watch out... Ruth... I... oh God!" he groaned hoarsely.
"Can't hold... Jesus, Phil, fuck me now... right away!" the lovely girl squealed.
With astonishing strength borne of flaming desire, Ruth tore herself out of the husky detective's grasp. Immediately, though, she turned around and straddled his surging prick. Her juices bathed it as it poised by her fiery entrance.
"Now stick it in!" she ordered, her face a contorted mask of lust. "All the way in!"
"Sit on it, baby!" Phil howled.
He held her hips and guided her pink, flowing pussy onto his long pecker. She pressed herself down, sliding her twat along its burning length. The blood-pulsing member filled her up and threatened to crack her in two, but somehow she managed to take all of it inside. Her grasping cunt. walls clenched themselves around it, and she began to pump up and down.
"Phil... I'm so hot... I can't go for long!" Ruth screamed.
"Me neither... I... oh shit, I'm going to come right away!"
He couldn't control his bucking hips. He shoved his pork in deep as he felt his lava-like load race through his cunt-wrapped staff. With a cry of release, he shot his load into the redhead's waiting pussy.
"Here it... aaayyyaahhh!!!"
Feeling wad after molten wad bursting into her womb, the young girl gave way to her flaming wave of passion. An instant later, she was engulfed in orgasm.
"Aaaah... oh... aaaiiieeeee!!!"
They humped and clawed at each other as climaxes roared through their exploding bodies. They whirled through a galaxy of red lust until, some undetermined time later, they felt their mutual passion subside. Ruth rolled off to the floor, completely spent. She realized the phone was ringing.
Phil staggered off the desk and answered with a shaky voice. When he hung up, he turned to the redhead.
"Honey, I have to pay a visit to an old friend. Shall I drop you off at home?"
"I'll go with you," Ruth replied. "Who knows? Maybe we'll have time for more good stuff later!"
Each smiling their contentment, the two lovers dressed and left the office.
CHAPTER THREE
A mile from the filling station Phil turned off the highway onto a lonely gravel road. When he switched on his bright headlights, streams of water could be seen rushing in the ditches on both sides.
"Guess we're taking a chance on this dirt road after that downpour," commented Phil, slowing down. "But it's miles nearer this way than by the highway."
"Oh, I think it's exciting." Ruth had always had zest for anything a little risky.
He chuckled. "I do believe you have the makings of a detective."
"If I only had a chance," she retorted. "But tell me about this -- or can you?"
"Miss Minnie's quite a character. She'd about resigned herself to being an old maid when this Wilton Cosgrove came to board with her when he got a job at the atomic plant. To the surprise of all of us, she finally married him."
"You know, I always admire women who have the spunk to hold out against men. But she gave up finally, eh? How did it turn out?"
"Not so good, from the way she talked tonight."
"Have you known Mrs. Cosgrove long?"
"Ever since I was a kid. She was Minnie Baston. When I was little, my Aunt Clara often took me to the Baston farm, where there were lots of other kids. We were all fond of Miss Minnie. She used to serve gingerbread and cookies, real sociable kind. But the last time I was over at Aunt Clara's, she said she hardly ever saw Miss Minnie. She'd always liked card parties and teas. But since she married Cosgrove, she's gradually drawn into a shell. She claims they have to go to bed early so he can be at the plant by eight every morning."
"What's the husband like?"
"I've met him only once, but Aunt Clara can't stand him. Jealous probably, because she doesn't see Miss Minnie as much as she used to. Aunt Clara claims he's taciturn -- an unsociable introvert."
"And works at the atomic plant?"
"That's right."
"Could it be anything about the secret work at the plant?"
"I don't think so. This is in confidence, of course, but Miss Minnie talked like she's afraid he's thinking of suicide."
"Heavens! No wonder you want to get out there in a hurry. This is no night for an older woman to be alone with such fears."
Phil slowed .the car as they descended a hill leading to Bush's Creek. "Maybe I shouldn't have come this way," he said as he noticed the ditch water widening into the road. "Sometimes this bridge is flooded after a hard rain."
It was still raining hard enough to keep the windshield wiper going at full clip. Cautiously, Phil stopped the car about fifty feet from the bridge.
"I'd better take a look and see if it's safe to go over," he remarked. He reached for his raincoat on the back seat and threw it over his shoulders.
Ruth felt a shiver go down her spine as he walked toward the bridge in the glaring headlights, the rain beating on his head and shoulders, the wind trying to rip off the loose raincoat. He stepped to the wooden bridge, held onto the rail a moment and looked over. Then he turned and came at a half-run back to the car. He was about to step inside when there was a sharp ping of gunfire. Ruth ducked involuntarily as Phil jerked open the door, then slipped under the wheel. He jabbed the drive button and stepped on the gas. A second shot ricocheted off metal somewhere on the rear of the car as they raced over the bridge.
"Who would want to hold us up on a night like this?" Ruth burst forth, outraged.
But they had crossed the bridge now and had reached a spot where the creek was entirely across the road. With the rain still splashing on the windshield, Phil had all he could do to hold the car in the ruts until they pulled again onto higher ground.
"Maybe robbery wasn't the motive," Phil managed to get out at last. "I thought I heard somebody pick up a phone on the party line while I was talking with Miss Minnie."
"You mean somebody doesn't want you to reach Miss Minnie's and hear what she has to say?" speculated Ruth.
"Looks that way."
They were scarcely out of the watery hollow when Phil realized that the hard pull of the car wasn't from the ruts in the road now, but from a deflating tire. One of the shots had buried itself in the tire. It would never hold a mile farther, until he reached the Baston farm.
"Hope I can make it around the bend. There's a little one-pump gas station there," Phil said.
Ruth kept glancing back, fearing there would be more shots. Phil could make out practically nothing in the rear-view mirror, but said optimistically, "I don't think we're being followed. The filling station's probably closed at this hour, but Ted Capers lives right behind it. I'm sure he'll come out and help me."
To their surprise, however, when they reached the gas station, they saw a light on in the office, and a car, its hood up, under the shelter. Ruth hadn't realized her extreme tension until she saw the friendly light and someone who could help in the emergency.
"I once helped Ted out of a little trouble he got mixed up in, innocently. He's acted like he owes me his life ever since."
Ted lifted his head from the motor he was examining as Phil bumped into the station. "Hi, Mr. Marston, you all right?" asked the young man solicitously. "Thought I heard a shot from the direction you came."
"You sure did, Ted," said Phil, stepping out of the car. "I'm afraid it was meant for me, but it only blew a tire."
"Meant for you? Are you kidding?" spoke up the other man, coming from behind the raised engine hood. Then Phil saw it was Alex Smith, a drug salesman he knew casually.
"I wish I were," Phil answered with a brittle laugh.
"And you with a lady in the car!" exclaimed Ted. "Want me to call the sheriff?"
"I'd rather not make a fuss over it," said Phil, "till I can get at what's behind it."
"Then I reckon you want to get on fast," said Ted. "I'll change the tire for you right away -- that is if you don't mind waiting," he added, turning to Smith.
"Sure thing. Won't take but a few minutes," agreed Smith. "Mine's a longer job. I've already phoned my wife about the motor going bad."
The three men combined forces to change the tire in a hurry. Before Phil left he said to Ted Capers, "Save the slug you take out of the tire. I'll pick up the tire in a day or so. And keep an eye out for any car that comes over the bridge, Ted. A description of it and its driver would help lots. I've an idea my assailant won't let the first failure discourage him."
Ruth glanced at the clock on the panel and noticed it was twenty after eleven. The rain was coming down now with renewed force. She hoped Lisa wouldn't worry over her being out in the storm. Vivid forks of lightning illumined the soggy road ahead at frequent intervals. Phil had said it was a mile farther to the farm, but as they drove on it seemed twice that distance to Ruth, who expected more shots to come ripping out of the darkness at any moment.
At last, however, dim lights glimmered far back in a grove of trees. Phil feared that the assailant might have taken the shortcut path that ran from the back of the farm-house to the creek. An assailant could safely hide among the moss-festooned trees and large camellia and azalea bushes along that path, just as Phil had as a boy, in one of the frequent games of hide-and-go-seek.
Finally, though, the car was in front of the house, and he braked alongside the wide entrance steps.
"I was nuts to bring you out here on a night like this," he said as he quickly wrapped his raincoat about Ruth's bare shoulders. His annoyance with himself was clear in his voice.
"Forget it. I'm having a wonderful time," Ruth retorted as he opened the car door. She caught the raincoat tightly around her billowing skirt and ran up the steps.
Miss Minnie must have been listening and watching for their arrival, for she threw open the front door as they crossed the porch. In the dim light of the hall Ruth saw a quaint little lady whose age might be anywhere from forty to sixty, very erect and aristocratic, her high-busted, tightly corseted figure reminiscent of those depicted in old-fashioned prints of the nineties. Miss Minnie was as fluttery as a frightened sparrow.
When Phil had made the introductions, explaining why he had brought Ruth, the woman babbled in a half-apologetic manner, "But Phil, I have to talk with you alone -- that is -- not that you aren't most welcome, Miss Tard."
"Ruth understands, Miss Minnie. She'll wait here in the hall. I just couldn't leave her out there in the car in the storm."
"Couldn't I fix you a cup of tea or something, my dear, while you wait?"
"No thank you, don't bother. I'll be quite all right," Ruth assured her as she took off the dripping raincoat and hung it on an old-fashioned hat tree.
"How beautiful she is, Phil," complimented Miss Minnie. "So tall and willowy -- just the kind of girl for you. I feel terrible bringing you away -- from a party, was it?"
"Forget it, Miss Minnie, and let's hear what's on your mind," Phil answered.
She started toward an open door, through which Ruth glimpsed bookshelves rising to the ceiling. This had evidently been quite a place in its day. As they were about to go in, Miss Minnie turned back to say solicitously, "Are you sure you'll be all right, dear?"
"Fine. I'll enjoy looking at your antiques."
"Then step into the parlor there." Miss Minnie indicated the room across from the library. "My uncle was a missionary in China. He brought us back some beautiful things."
When Phil was inside the library, Miss Minnie closed the door softly, her hospitable nature embarrassed at shutting Ruth out. But Phil was impatient to get down to business and have it over. When they were seated near the center of the room, he prompted her again. "Well, Miss Minnie, let's hear what's troubling you."
"Oh, Phil, I'm so miserable. I should never have married him. I know now it was a horrible mistake --"
"I'm sorry, Miss Minnie," murmured Phil, trying to control his impatience.
She bent closer, the full circle of her small, beady brown pupils showing her horror as she whispered, "Phil, he bought a pistol. I saw him coming out of a pawnshop when I came from the dry-goods store today. Then he went into a hardware store. I suppose to buy shots. I looked in the package while he was putting groceries in the trunk of the car."
"Maybe he felt he needed it as protection. This house is in a rather lonely place."
"No -- I'm sure it's not that. We've been married over a year -- living here by ourselves -- and he never had a gun. It's only since he's been acting so queer." She hitched her chair closer and bent toward him, lowering her tone still more. "Phil, I have an awful feeling it's linked with those secret doings at the atomic plant."
"Could be. I suppose all the workers are under restrictions and tensions in a way. Some can take it, some can't."
"About a month ago I first noticed him acting so queer. Just sits and stares in space. Sometimes he doesn't even seem to hear what I say to him."
"He must be worried about something."
"It's enough to drive anyone mad, working in that awful place. I found out he works underground. That alone would drive me crazy. I'd die of claustrophobia."
"Everyone is not so affected, Miss Minnie. It probably doesn't bother him at all. That's nothing to get worked up over."
"But that's not why I called you. I'm afraid he's planning to take his life -- or. worse still, somebody else's."
Stark terror was in the mousy dark eyes as Miss Minnie sat twisting her blue-veined hands nervously. "Oh, Phil, I feel like a traitor telling you this. I was fond of him in a way at first, but I know now I was a fool to marry him. I -- I wish I'd never laid eyes on him."
"I'm sorry, Miss Minnie, if you made a mistake."
"But I just couldn't go on living here alone after Pa died. I couldn't bear to sell the place with all our beautiful things -- and there was no money to keep it up. Then when my boarder wanted to marry me, it seemed a solution to all my problems. But I shouldn't have done it. I didn't know anything about him then, and know little more now -- I mean I do know things I wish I didn't."
"What, Miss Minnie?"
She stared straight into his eyes and suddenly seemed to make a decision. "Phil, I feel I can trust you better than anyone else. I've known you since you were a child, and now you're in a position to know about such things. After he got the gun I made up my mind I had to tell someone. I'd be a traitor to my country if I didn't. If anything happens to me, then someone will know and can do something about it."
"A traitor to your country? Just what do you mean, Miss Minne?"
She left her chair and went to a rear door to listen. As she came back she said, "He's still back there, tinkering with that old ham-radio rig. Talks over it till all hours."
She sat down, her thin, peaked face drawn with anxiety as she continued in a scarcely audible whisper: "Phil, I'm afraid he's planning sabotage at the plant. Someone is forcing him to it -- or squeezing information from him."
Phil's voice was calm as he asked, "What makes you think that?"
"He's been meeting someone in secret. It's evidently been going on for several months, since he started taking walks into the woods alone."
"You think he's meeting someone?"
She nodded. "I followed him. He met a man down by the spring that flows into Bush's Creek, a tall, powerful-looking man, but his back was turned, and I couldn't see what his face was like. They seemed to be arguing. I didn't dare get close enough to hear what they said. Soon after that, Wilton began to go around in a sort of fog. Last week I followed him again. This time it was a woman who met him."
"A woman?" Phil couldn't hide his surprise.
"Oh, it wasn't a lovers' meeting," she hastened to assure him. "She handed him a note, which he must have read more than once. Then he struck a match to the paper and dropped the ashes in the stream. The woman didn't stay long."
"What did she look like?"
"Almost as tall as Wilton, with smooth dark hair done in a bun on the back of her neck. Sort of heavy-set; I wasn't close enough to see her face. It was twilight."
Phil stared in silence at his strong hands while he tried to make sense of it all. If Cosgrove was really a secret agent planted by the Communists at the plant, it would never do for him to find Phil here.
"If your husband comes out," he said, "make believe this is a social call. He knows I've known you a long time."
"I've already decided on that," she agreed. "But when he gets those earphones on, talking on that rig, the place could almost burn down before he'd notice."
Phil might have been inclined to take Miss Minnie's story as the imaginative wanderings of a lonely old lady, but he thought of that sound he'd heard on the party line while talking to her on the phone, followed by the attempt on his life at Bush's Bridge. Now he was certain eavesdroppers had wanted to prevent his visit here, that Miss Minnie's story, as wild as it seemed, was based on fact. From what she reported, Phil was inclined to think that Cosgrove was being blackmailed into giving information to an enemy agent, rather than being a willing cooperator. But if Cosgrove was one of them, Miss Minnie's life wouldn't be worth much should he find out she suspected him. Her safest course would be to pretend ignorance that anything unusual was going on.
"Miss Minnie," he said after an interval, "I'm going to say something that may shock and alarm you."
Suddenly she covered her face with her bony hands and a slight tremor shook her body. Almost at once she removed her hands and faced him with an agonized expression. "Oh, Phil, I was afraid you'd say that -- that the FBI ought to know."
"Anything threatening the atomic plant should certainly be brought to their attention. We may be all wrong about this, but if we're right, thousands of lives may be at stake."
"I know. I've gone over it a thousand times. That's why I had to talk with you."
"If there's one chance in a hundred he may be giving out atomic secrets, or planning sabotage, we have no right to keep silent. On the other hand, if he's innocent, no one need ever know the FBI was alerted. It's our only course, Miss Minnie. We have no choice."
"My father would turn over in his grave if he knew I'd become involved in something like this. I'm afraid you're right, Phil. But anything is better than this awful agony of indecision. I've endured it for days. Will you talk to them for me?"
"Of course. It wouldn't do for you to be seen going into the FBI office. I'll see them the first thing in the morning."
Five minutes later, when Phil and Ruth were on their way to the safety of the much-traveled highway, Ruth asked Phil, "Did she tell you her husband operates a ham-radio rig?"
He glanced at her sharply, "How'd you find out?" Without waiting for an answer he added: "I hope he didn't know we were around."
"Not him! He was too busy talking about birds to some other operator just as daffy."
"You heard him?"
"Couldn't help it. He was in the room behind the parlor. There's a door between -- locked, of course. He talked in a low tone, but I thought I might pick up something to help you."
Phil chuckled in spite of his anxiety.
"I jotted down some of the call letters he talked to -- on a sheet from the note pad on the desk. Here it is. You can find out who the operators were from any ham call-book."
"Thank you, Ruth, that may be helpful. Did you say he was talking about birds? I guess birdwatchers can get right hipped on the subject."
"There seemed to be something a little screwy about this bird lore. He mentioned robins. Any native here knows there're practically none in this part of the country in August. The only time we see any of them is when they come through by the thousands in late winter and try to clean out all our native bird food."
"Does sound a bit odd," agreed Phil.
"I jotted down some of the things he said, too, if that will be any help."
Phil laughed softly and remarked. "It's beginning to look like J. B. turned down a mighty fine assistant."
CHAPTER FOUR
It was a little after midnight when Phil stopped his car at Ruth's door. It was still drizzling, so Phil wrapped his raincoat around the redhead and they ran into the building.
In the hallway, Ruth said, "I must say, thanks for a lovely evening, Phil."
"I'm afraid I gave you a rough time."
"Not at all!" She put her hand on his arm. "Phil, you're soaking wet and shivering! C'mon upstairs for some brandy and we'll try to dry your clothes."
"Don't mind if I do."
Ruth led the handsome detective to her apartment. Lights were on inside and she heard Lisa moving about in the kitchen. The pretty brown-haired girl emerged at her roommate's call.
After Ruth made the required introductions, she said, "Poor Phil has to get some dry clothes on. Do you know of anything around, Lisa?"
"Not really," the girl replied. Then she giggled. "I guess he'll have to wear a towel... or walk around in his birthday suit if he wants to!"
Phil laughed, as inwardly he remarked he wouldn't be the only one in the apartment scantily clad. Apparently, the lovely Lisa was preparing for bed because she wore a sheer, thigh-length nightgown that hung from her shoulders by only two thin straps. With the glow of the light emanating from the kitchen, he could easily detect the brown bush between her slender legs. The girl seemed oblivious to his gaze as she spoke.
"I was just going to have a nightcap. Anyone else?"
"Good idea!" Ruth exclaimed. "I wanted Phil to have some brandy and I could use some, too."
"I'll go get it," Lisa said, returning to the kitchen.
Ruth turned to the detective. "I'm going to get out of these damp clothes. Sorry, but I guess you'll have to make do with what you can find in the bathroom."
"Fine with me."
In the bathroom, Phil gratefully shed his wet clothes and rubbed himself dry. He also felt like rubbing something else because the sight of the skimpily draped Lisa had created a very natural reaction between his legs.
"Down, boy," he muttered. "I'm sure the girls don't want a frisky satyr prancing around the apartment!"
He managed to compose himself and, for lack of anything else, he wrapped a towel around his hips. When he returned to the living room, Lisa was sitting on the couch. After he accepted a generous portion of brandy from her, Ruth entered. Phil glanced at her appreciatively. To his delighted surprise, the beautiful redhead wore a night-gown identical to Lisa's except it barely reached down to her smooth, white thighs.
"I had to borrow your other nightgown," Ruth said to her roommate. "I've been thinking so much about detective work lately that I've forgotten simple things like doing the laundry."
"That's okay," Lisa laughed. "It would be a good fit if you weren't so tall!"
When Ruth bent down to get her glass of brandy, the edge of the sheer nightgown crawled up the back of her thighs to expose the crack of her lovely ass. Phil decided it would be a good idea to sit down before his friend Peter made it a foursome. To steady his nerves, he drained his glass. Lisa noticed he was in need of a refill.. She jumped off the couch with the bottle and came over to him.
"Now don't be bashful," she urged. "There's plenty here and I'm sure you deserve it." As the young girl poured, Phil was given a generous view of her full, rounded breasts. He was disappointed when she straightened up and returned to the couch next to her roommate.
"That's for sure," Ruth sighed. "What a day!"
As the three young people sipped brandy, refilling their glasses when needed, Ruth informed Lisa of much of the day's activities. Her inbred caution made her omit certain details that she considered confidential, yet Lisa was enthralled nevertheless. The brown-eyed girl seemed particularly interested in the near-brawl with J. B.
"You mean you thought he was going to attack you?" Lisa exclaimed.
"Well, at least I thought he was going to test me. But when I told him of my skill in the martial arts he thought better of the idea."
"Was that a front," Phil asked, "or do you really have that kind of training?"
"Oh, she does!" Lisa said. "I can testify to that. Every so often she needed a partner to practice with at home, and yours truly was the victim!"
"C'mon, dear, you thought it was fun," Ruth laughed.
"Well, it was, I admit it."
"Let's have a demonstration," Phil suggested.
After a bit more urging, Ruth was persuaded to display her skills. First she apologized because she said the brandy might make her as clumsy as she felt giddy. Then, with Lisa as a giggling -- and jiggling -- partner, she performed a few basic defense moves. She tossed her brown-haired roommate over her head, they rolled on the floor, and soon their ample chests were heaving with effort.
Phil sat in rapt attention. He couldn't careless about Ruth's martial arts skills -- but the sight of the two luscious girls wrestling, their sheer nightgowns flapping and occasionally slipping up past their hips, made him want to sit up and howl at the moon. The girls appeared not to notice that little of their anatomies was left to the imagination as they squirmed on the floor. At one point, as Lisa was flung over her room-mate's shoulder, her legs were flung open and the panting detective was given a display of hair-fringed pink meat.
"Uncle!" Lisa suddenly cried, laughing up at the redhead. "I've had enough. I'm not much of an opponent and the brandy has done something to my coordination." It was true. The girls' faces were flushed from drink in addition to their exertions. "You should try someone more formidable."
"Not a bad idea," Ruth giggled. "How about it, Phil? Want to give me a try?"
"Sure, why not?"
The big detective leaped out of the chair; adjusted his towel and went over to the girls. Lisa lay on the floor, resting on her elbows. Her easily discerned red nipples, erect from effort, pointed up at the ceiling. Phil tore his eyes away to attend to Ruth. She grinned at him.
"Now, don't pull your punches with me. I want to see what I can do."
"Go right ahead," Phil replied.
He advanced, and the redhead grabbed hold of his wrists. She tried to flip him, but his muscular weight proved to be too much for her. They struggled against each other with Lisa cheering from below. Phil could feel the softness and warmth of Ruth's curvaceous body through the thin material of the nightgown. He became aware of a growing throbbing between his legs, and soon his towel-covered bulge was against her bare leg. Only the presence of the young roommate prevented him from throwing Ruth down and jumping between her smooth thighs.
With such thoughts distracting him, Ruth was able to catch him off balance and she tossed him to the rug. At the last instant he managed to drag her down with him. When they landed next to Lisa, Phil's first observation was that the redhead's nightgown had been flung up to her chest. Her copper-haired pubic bush was exposed to his delighted gaze. He next observed that his towel had been cast aside in the struggle, and he lay on the floor with his long phallus sticking up into the air.
"Well, what do we have here?" Lisa exclaimed. "Looks like we have an unannounced visitor!"
Before the detective's astonished gaze, the brown-eyed roommate reached out and wrapped her hand around his thickening shaft. He groaned with pleasure as her fingers moved up and down its purple-veined length.
"How is it, Lisa?" Ruth called.
"Big, and it's getting bigger!" her friend replied. "I wonder if it's too big for my mouth?"
"I... I guess there's only one way to find out," Phil grunted with amazement.
Continuing her stroking, the young girl put her lips by the detective's ear. "I haven't given a blowjob in quite a while... and I miss it!"
"When opportunity knocks... " Ruth began.
"I throw open the door!" Lisa finished. "Stand up, Phil, and let's see how big this thing really is!"
Though his legs were shaking from delighted surprise, the husky detective managed to get to his feet. His dork jerked and stood out like a cavalry lance. His member lurched more when the pretty brown-haired girl got to her knees and tugged her night-gown off.
"Mind if I go first, Ruth?" she said. "Not at all," her roommate replied, also removing her sheer garment. "Just save some for me!"
"I'll try!"
Then Lisa turned her attention to the long prong that twitched invitingly near her lovely face. She stuck her tongue out and rimmed the thickening cockhead, lapping up stray droplets of pre-cum that emanated from the hard tip. As she performed these ministrations, Ruth lay on the floor gently stroking her swelling jugs. The wide, rosy nipples stiffened before Phil's widening eyes. Then the redhead took each one between thumb and forefinger and began to squeeze and pinch them.
"Hmmmm... it's so much fun to play with my titties when I'm excited," she crooned.
"Almost as much fun as sucking dick!" cried Lisa.
Wasting no time, the vivacious brunette closed her full lips around the detective's bulging cockhead. Slurping sounds filled the room as she blew and sucked the delicious man-meat. Her soft fingers reached out and gently massaged Phil's jism-filled, hairy nuts. Her other hand grabbed his ass, and slowly, agonizingly, she pressed his rigid pecker into her mouth, licking every inch that passed between her lips.
"You know how to do it, baby!" the excited detective roared. "Eat all that prick!"
Lisa nodded agreement and continued to push more and more pole into her hungry mouth. Somehow, she managed to fit all of his pork in. His cockhead pressed against the rear of her throat as her concave cheeks came up against his hardening balls. Ruth, watching the performance, mewled softly as her palms increased their massage of her jutting tits.
"Go, Lisa honey, do it!" she cheered. She spread her long legs and allowed one hand to crawl down and massage her moistening mound. "I'll join you in a moment!"
The beautiful brunette was oblivious to her roommate's cries. She sucked, with eyes closed dreamily, the large phallus that filled her face. Then, with both hands grasping Phil's hips, she pushed him out. The tip of her tongue licked the length of his surging rod for a minute. Cooing with pleasure, she once again fed his prick into her feasting mouth.
"Yeah, hot stuff, you're driving me insane!" the handsome detective bellowed lustily.
"Wait for me!" Ruth squealed.
Leaving off the attention she was paying to her heating pussy, the redhead got up on her knees next to Lisa. The lively brunette let the red member slip out of her mouth as she shifted aside.
"Your turn!" she announced, grinning mischievously.
Without replying, Ruth took hold of the inflamed, drool-glistening prick and moved her hand back and forth. She squeezed his purpling cockhead, causing pre-cum to drip into her waiting mouth. Then, with no hesitation, she fed all of his meat into her salivating orifice.
"Jesus, I can't believe this!" the delighted detective exclaimed. "Getting blown by two girls at the same time! It's... too much!"
"Not enough, as far as I'm concerned," Lisa retorted. "Let me have more!"
She closed into position next to her voluptuous roommate. When Ruth finally released the out-thrust staff, the brunette took it into her mouth and resumed the titillating sucking. Soon the girls had the rhythm they wanted. As each completed her turn of sucking and licking the tasty man-meat, the other leaned forward to continue. With each minute their turns came closer together, until Phil couldn't be sure which beautiful head was fastened to his raging pork.
"Girls... I... oh God!" His breathing grew labored as the fire in his loins increased.
"Let's keep going, Ruth!" Lisa urged.
The two frisky roommates increased their pace. As their mouths worked, each cupped her swollen jugs and rubbed them across Phil's quaking thighs. The hard, erect nipples dug into his skin, creating an agonizing friction of intense excitement. The detective's hips bucked forward every time lips were fastened around his lunging Wang. They had to grab his ass to steady him as his hips began to jerk erratically.
"Ohhh... watch out... can't take much... oh shit, keep sucking!" Phil screamed as his pent-up cum prepared for a torrent-like release.
The pretty girls moaned joyfully as they realized a white-hot load of jism was about to come their way. Their mutual blowjob was now hard and vigorous as they steered the tall detective to a roaring climax. Both mouths now worked on him, one wrapped around the throbbing phallus while the other licked the shaft and rock-hard cum sac.
"This is... oh Jesus... here it... " Phil bucked his hips uncontrollably as his boiling load raced out of its storage area. "I... aaah... aaaagggaahhhhh!!!"
Both girls moved their hungry mouths into position to take in the exploding wads of steaming jism. It burst out of his cock-head like water from a firehose. With their tongues held out to lap up the succulent man-juice, Ruth and Lisa had their faces pounded by wad after potent wad. They swallowed what they could, urging every ounce out with hard jerk-off strokes, and allowed the rest to course hotly down their delighted faces. They moaned in ecstasy as the husky detective emptied his nuts on them. The creamy load formed rivulets that streamed down their necks and chests and dripped off their red-tipped mounds.
"Oh Lord... ohhh... " Phil groaned as his hips gradually stopped swaying. "That was... heaven!"
"Hmmmmm . no argument here," Lisa crooned as she licked cum off her lips and swallowed.
"That's what I call a midnight snack!" Ruth giggled. She moved her fingers across her breasts, then inserted the cum-covered digits into her mouth.
Phil staggered back and collapsed onto the couch. He rested, his ravaged prick drooping listlessly against his leg, until, to his great and delighted surprise, he felt the first twinge of renewed desire in his loins. The sight of the two naked, luscious girls on the floor gazing at him with expectation soon got him aroused once more. Their eyes widened with joy as they saw his potent phallus rising once again.
"Okay, ladies," the detective called, "who wants to sit on this and who wants her pussy eaten?"
The roommates leaped up at the pleasant invitation. After a brief discussion, they knew the plan. Phil slid down on the cushion and Ruth straddled his lap. She parted her dripping twat lips and eased herself down onto his pole. Grunting with the delightful effort, she managed to take all of it in, burying the virile sword deep into her raging womb.
"God... Phil... you're so big!" she wailed. She began to pump herself up and down on his rod, her blue eyes rolling with need.
"Climb up here, Lisa!" the husky man demanded.
The pretty brunette readily complied. Planting her feet in the couch cushions, she stood up so that her hot, moist bush was poised by Phil's waiting mouth. He spread her quivering cunt lips and flicked out his tongue.
"Ohhhhh... that's what I want!" Lisa cried, her legs shaking with desire. "Lick me harder!"
He did as she ordered, rolling his tongue vigorously along the length of her steaming slit and teasing her by occasionally allowing the tip to dart inside momentarily. She mewled with delight and grabbed his head. Then she cried out a warning.
"Don't go all the way, Ruth!" she demanded. "I want some of that cock, too!"
"Yes... yes!" the heaving redhead exclaimed. "And I want my pussy eaten!"
Soon Ruth was breathless with effort as she rode the detective's prong like a horse at the rodeo. Her toes dug into the plush rug as she pistoned herself up and down. A red-misted cloud fogged her brain as she felt an intense pressure building in her fiery womb. Phil's hard cockhead battered her canal, sending electric jolts of pleasure throughout her entire nervous system. Her pretty, oval face contorted, twisting itself into a red mask of lust.
"Yeah... Phil, that's it!" she squealed. "Stick that big dick in me!"
The handsome investigator complied, shoving his hips upward to match the girl's rapid fucking movements. Meanwhile, Lisa pressed his head forward, pushing his mouth between her shuddering twat lips. Noisily, his tongue reached out and slurped up the pussy juice cascading from her burning hole. The musky scent of the delicious syrup filled the air.
"Oh. I love it!" the lusty brunette wailed. "Love to have my... ohhh... lick mmeeee!"
Phil certainly had his hands full trying to keep up with the demands of the two passionate young girls. He knew that in a short time he would also have difficulty keeping himself under control. Being surrounded by desire-maddened female flesh was proving to be stimulating beyond belief. His nuts were awash with a fresh wave of horniness, the creamy jism reforming for another roaring blast.
"Fuck that big pole, Ruth!" he bellowed, overcome by sexual frenzy.
The room reverberated with the labored breathing of the hyperactive threesome. The redhead increased the pistoning of her ass on the detective's big dork until she felt ready to split in two. She paused, though, at the wild cry emitted by her lust-filled room-mate.
"I... want cock!" Lisa screamed. "Hurry, Ruth... let's switch! I need some prick right now!"
Her friend was anxious to comply. "Yes... oh God, yes! I want my twat licked!"
"C'mon, girls, I... can't hold out too much longer!" Phil added.
Powered by frantic need, the threesome went about changing positions. To make it easier, Phil threw himself on the floor and waited for the girls' fresh onslaught. Lisa straddled his red, glistening staff as the red-head climbed onto the detective's face. The girls faced each other, their contorted expressions displaying their bodies' desires.
"Lisa... honey... let's rub each other's titties while we... do it!" Ruth moaned.
"Please, yes, touch my jugs," the cooing brunette agreed as she lowered herself on the burning prong.
Opening her slit as wide as she could, Lisa pressed herself down, easing the thick stick into her steamy hole. She whinnied at the tight fit, not believing she could fit all of the throbbing manhood in. But somehow, her tender twat swallowed up every thick inch, filling her inner depths with bulging, pulsating cock.
"Oh my God oh shit oh fuck!" she shouted at the ceiling. "Hump my cunt... ohhh!"
"Eat me!" Ruth's whining voice demanded. "Stick your big tongue all the way in!"
Grabbing hold of the redhead's hips, the panting investigator stiffened his tongue and shoved the length of it into Ruth's hot, grasping pussy. She bobbed up and down on it, copying the frenzied motions of her dick-fucking roommate.
The two friends stared at each other, loving the sight of their four melons bouncing up and down. Their hands reached out to squeeze and massage the white, cumcovered tit-flesh. Not content to let only their hands have the fun, each bent forward to lick the jiggling, erect red nipples.
"Oooooh... oh! Suck my buds!" Lisa crooned.
"Do it to me... lick them!" her red-headed friend wailed as Lisa buried her head between her mountains.
The addition of the girls' warm saliva on each other's chest soon set the large drops of leftover cum to dripping again. The heavy fluid coursed down the valleys between their swollen jugs, along their firm torsos, and disappeared into the moist forests of their busy pubic mounds. Each tried to lap up what she could, but their furiously working mouths emitted more than they could take in.
"Jesus... Ruth... I'm going nuts!" Lisa howled at the top of her lungs.
"Me, too... me... mmmeeeee!" the tall redhead added, her sanity a thing of the past.
On his part, Phil humped and sucked with every ounce of energy he had at his command. He desperately wanted to bring the lusty girls to the detonation point because his raging balls told him the barrier was rapidly disintegrating. Then, suddenly, he realized it was all over for him.
"Here I... oh sweet Jesus... I'm... "
His roar was stifled by flowing pussy juice as Ruth ground her twat onto his face. He felt the first brief spurt shoot out of his ravaged cockhead, and it was immediately followed by his entire raging load as the fiery orgasm overwhelmed him.
"Coming... oh shit... Aaaarrrrghghgh!!!"
Lisa was vaguely aware of her sex canal filling up with a long, hot wad as she went over the agonizing edge. Like a wild banshee, she screamed her sweet release.
"Here I... ohhh... oh... Oooooowwweeeee!!!!!"
With Phil's tongue deeply embedded in her raging cunt, Ruth immediately joined her friends in climax.
"Aaaah... Aaaayyyaaaahhhhh!!!!!"
The lust-filled threesome thrashed about on the floor, each shattering and bursting into fragments of burning orgasmic particles. Their howls and groans echoed in the room, later followed by exhausted whimpers of contentment.
When their bodies returned to reality, Ruth stumbled off to her room and flung herself into bed. The screaming climax had taken everything out of her. She was vaguely aware of Phil leaving, and of Lisa crawling to bed, before a deep slumber blotted out all consciousness.
CHAPTER FIVE
The next morning, Ruth struggled awake as though rising from the depths of the ocean. Slowly, she remembered the events of the previous evening, and her body responded with a gentle tingling sensation. With the cool morning breeze coming from the window, she softly stroked her copper-colored pussy hairs, wishing Phil had slept over.
"I wouldn't mind having him for breakfast!" she giggled.
Then she realized a trickle of tell-tale moisture coursing between her legs. She wondered if Lisa felt the same way. She got up, and enjoying the feel of the breeze on her naked, voluptuous body, she went to her friend's room.
To her surprise, she discovered a note pinned to the pillow, which read: "Gus Stuben having another heart attack. His friend came for me. Look me up at hospital. Love, Lisa."
As Ruth stood pondering this message, the phone rang. When she answered it, a head nurse at the hospital was inquiring as to why Lisa hadn't reported for work that morning. Ruth was startled by this news and gave a lame excuse. She hung up, needing a few quiet moments to think.
Now she remembered that she hadn't told Lisa about how Phil had questioned her concerning Stuben. And now Stuben had sent for Lisa! The pretty redhead knew something was wrong here, especially if her roommate was not at the hospital. She decided to call Lisa's boyfriend, Hugh McAllister.
"No, I haven't spoken to her for several days," Hugh reported. "This sounds fishy."
"It sure does," Ruth mused. "Listen, meet me at the hospital. We'll get Stuben's address from when he stayed there during his last attack."
Hugh agreed and Ruth quickly dressed. Within minutes she was at the hospital records office, and because she was Lisa's roommate the information she wanted was furnished. When Hugh showed up they immediately drove out to the country address of a suspected mobster, Arnold Myers.
The house was empty. No one answered their knock. Rationalizing that it was for a good cause, Ruth used a trick her brother had taught her and picked the lock.
"Looks like whoever was here recently cleared out," Hugh said.
They searched the house. Ruth spotted muddy tracks that she thought matched Lisa's shoes. She found a dress box, and on a sudden impulse she put the sales slip in her pocket. And in the fireplace were charred bits of paper. She collected them with her fingers, then went into the kitchen for something she could put the charred bits in, and found a large grocery bag that had evidently been used in place of a garbage can. There were some meat scraps, some stale bread, a couple of cans. Then Ruth noticed a small vial that sent a shock through her. She had just picked it up when Hugh joined her. No words were necessary as she extended it toward the distraught young doctor.
"Insulin!" he exclaimed.
There was no mistaking the small vial with the red-sealed top. The vial was empty.
"That seems proof enough that Gus Stuben has been living here," stated Ruth.
She looked into the garbage bag again and took out a can which had contained pears specially prepared for diabetics. Hugh took it from her and looked at it grimly.
"Let's go," he exclaimed. "We're going to the police."
Ruth snatched up the bag and headed for the door, intent on retrieving from the burned trash outside whatever might give them further clues. Hugh was about to switch off the kitchen light when she exclaimed, "Leave it on a minute while I see if there's anything else to help us in this trash pile."
He had little patience for any further delay, but Ruth was determined to get all the clues she could. She kicked the trash container over into the rectangle of light from the kitchen. With a stick she raked through it, picking out bits of paper that had not been quite consumed by the flames, and stuffed them into the bag.
"Please come on, Ruth," urged Hugh, going toward the car. "Don't waste any more time. It looks like she's actually been kidnapped! We've got to go to the police immediately."
As Hugh was breaking the speed limit on the highway, Ruth said, "Hadn't we better stop by our apartment to be sure she hasn't come in while we were away?"
"I suppose so," replied Hugh, but he didn't sound very optimistic. "We'll phone the registry, too, to see if she's made any report yet."
When they found the apartment still empty and learned that no report had yet been made to the registry, Hugh was impatient to go on to the police headquarters.
"Hadn't you better just stop for a moment, maybe get a cup of coffee and a sandwich or something? I think you might be jumping to conclusions," Ruth said.
Hugh sighed and then looked at her closely. "Yeah," he said, "you might be right. She's bound to turn up pretty soon. Maybe we should just sit down and take a load off for a while."
"That sounds like a good idea, Hugh."
Ruth took a moment to study the hand-some man. He was obviously deeply worried. But she knew that that would do nothing to get Lisa back. In fact, it might even harm things. If Hugh got too irritable and edgy, he might foul up the whole show. Ruth felt it was her duty to make the man slow down and get comfortable for a bit, because he might be in for quite an ordeal in the coming hours. After all, he was close to Lisa, and she was close to Lisa, too, so Ruth felt she had an obligation to keep Hugh on an even keel.
Ruth knew it was crazy, Nit ever since that night with Phil, something had been reawakened within her. Now, not an hour went by without her thinking about sex, without her dreaming about the feel of a hard penis buried between her legs. She knew this was the wrong time to think about fucking -- but then again, who would she be hurting? After thinking about it for a while, she realized that she would be hurting no one. In fact, she might even be hurting herself if she didn't follow through on her desires -- if she didn't act on her desire to have sex with Hugh right then and there.
Reaching out to touch his forehead, Ruth frowned. "You need to slow down. You'll just make things worse worrying. Lisa wouldn't want you to worry, would she? She'd want you to take it easy and enjoy yourself, wouldn't she? She knows you love her, and there'd be no reason to get bent out of shape and make it worse, would it? Hmmm?"
By this time, Ruth had begun massaging Hugh's neck and shoulders. He seemed to drift right in to her tender ministrations, his jumbled mind soon sorting itself out and growing calmer.
"Yeah, that feels good... " he groaned. 'You're right, .Ruth... yeah... I should take it easy for a bit... ohhh... "
Without missing a beat, Ruth moved her hand into his crotch and began stroking his prick like it was the most natural thing in the world -- which it was! As Ruth felt them drift together, enjoying one another's company, she felt there was absolutely nothing wrong with what they were doing. They were just doing what came naturally, nothing more and nothing less.
Ruth then eased Hugh back down on the couch. He rested on his back, smiling up at her gleefully. He was a completely changed man, with seemingly not a care in the world -- other than getting enough of Ruth's tender caresses.
Seeing that the bulge in his crotch was continuing to grow, Ruth decided that it was time to unleash his cock. Pulling down his zipper, she allowed his man-meat to show itself. There it stood, pulsating slowly with each beat of his heart.
Kneeling next to the couch, Ruth gripped his cockshaft with one hand and then bent over to lick the head of his penis. He groaned with delight as Ruth swallowed half his prick, enclosing it in the, heat of her moist mouth.
She tightened her lips around his rod and began sucking so hard that her cheeks collapsed inward. Down and down she went until the entire length of his shaft was imbedded in her throat and her nose was buried in his curly pubic hair.
Then Ruth bobbed her head up and down, keeping up the intense vacuum force with her mouth, as she tried to bring him to the edge of ecstasy. Sensing that he was about to shoot his load of semen, she reached in to gently squeeze his testicles, rolling the soft little eggs between her dainty fingers.
"That's it!" he cried. "Keep doing that! Ohhh, great!"
Gripping the back of her head to make sure she didn't leave his crotch before he finished, Hugh started arching his hips up off the couch in a slow, agonized rhythm. More than anything, he wanted to come in Ruth's mouth -- and she seemed to be silently begging him to do just that -- but then his thoughts drifted back to Lisa. No, he shouldn't be doing this, he said to himself. It's all wrong.
Sensing his dilemma, Ruth squeezed harder on his balls, trying to make him forget everything except the raging pleasure in his loins. She could feel that he was just on the brink of bliss, and she had worked too hard to stop now. No, Hugh was going to climax, she decided, whether he wanted to or not.
Harder and harder she sucked, until the entire room seemed filled with the loud slurping sounds of her blowjob. And then, in one mighty lurch of pleasure, Hugh came. Hard.
Later, they went for a quick bite to eat down at Graham's Drugstore. As they prepared to walk inside, Hugh heard a young boy calling out his name.
"Hi, Willie. How did you get way over here?" asked Ruth.
"Rode over on my bike to see if Nobby Walters knew anything about the mystery."
"What do you mean?" Hugh asked, annoyed at the delay and irritated that the boy seemed to be making an adventure out of some trouble.
But the eager, freckle-faced boy was unsquelched.
"And sho' puff, he does know somepin'," he continued. "Wait a minute. I'll call him. He saw that man taking the nurse away last night in the storm."
"He did?" exclaimed Hugh. After the boy had darted into the store for his friend, Hugh asked Ruth, "Who's Nobby Walters?"
Ruth had slipped under the wheel and across the seat, and now Hugh sat down beside her.
"He's the drugstore delivery boy; he uses the motor scooter. Willie rides with him some afternoons. We see Nobby occasionally when we run short of time and have to get a snack down in the drugstore. Nobby's a friendly kid."
A lanky boy of about sixteen was now coming out of the store with Willie.
"Nobby, this is the couple who's lookin' for that nurse," said Willie by way of introduction. "Tell 'em what you seen last night."
"Sure. I already know Miss Ruth. Hiya," Nobby said.
He was all keyed up at being able to give them information. "When I got back to the drugstore last night just before the worst of the storm, I found a big Buick parked in the driveway where I usually leave my scooter."
"A Buick," repeated Hugh.
"It sort of got my goat," Nobby was continuing, "'cause it was already raining hard. I give the car the once-over, wonderin' who had the nerve to turn into our drive. The back seat was all packed up with stuff like one of these sales agents, or somebody headin' on a long trip."
"You observed a lot on such a stormy night," said the doctor, wondering if the boy was drawing on his imagination.
"I didn't realize I'd taken in so much till I got to thinking about it after what happened. And just now Willie come over, and now I'm afraid it was something serious."
"What do you mean -- after what happened?" asked Ruth.
"A few minutes after I went back in the drugstore, Dr. Graham sent me up front to roll up the awnings. Wind was so high he was scared they'd get ripped. They roll up by a gadget just inside the window. I'd just stopped rollin' 'em when I saw Miss Lisa come down from the apartment with a big, tall man."
"A tall man, driving a Buick," Ruth repeated.
"While they were crossing the sidewalk there came an awful clap of thunder, and the lights went out. I just stood there, hoping the lights would come on in a minute. But when the next flash of lightnin' came, I saw the man helpin' Miss Lisa into that packed-up car. I reckoned she was scared of the storm -- but maybe she didn't want to go. He sort of pushed her in, and when the next lightnin' came, the car was backin' out of the drive."
"And you're sure it was a Buick?" asked Hugh.
"Yes sir! I can always recognize a Buick, even at night. But this was an old model with four vents in the hood.
"Then it was a heavy model, too?"
"Sure was," agreed Nobby.
"Would you have an idea what time that was?"
"Sure do. About eleven. Dr. Graham locked the front door as soon as the lights came on. Then he took me home in his car. The storm was still mighty bad, with rain pourin'. It would've been rough on my scooter."
Hugh's attitude toward the boy had changed during the interview. While he shook hands with Nobby and Willie, thanking them, Ruth noticed several people looking at some special sales signs in the drugstore window, and hoped none of them had overheard their remarks.
"Thanks so much, boys," Hugh continued. "Your information may prove valuable in our search."
"Yes sir, glad to help," said Willie in a glow of self-importance.
"I'll tell it to the police if you want me to," Nobby offered.
"We may have to call on you," said Hugh. "In the meantime, you'd better keep quiet about what you've told us."
At police headquarters a few minutes later Chief Grubbs was rather grumpy when he learned they'd gone ahead with the investigation without consulting him first.
"But we weren't even sure there was anything wrong until we tried to find her," Ruth explained.
"If you think it will help, I want to offer a thousand dollars' reward for any information that will lead to locating Miss Wendell," said Hugh.
Chief Grubbs's bushy brows drew together. "It'll bring us calls from a hundred crackpots who'll be sure they've seen the Buick or the girl. But if one of 'em gives us a real lead, it'll be worth the trouble."
CHAPTER SIX
In spite of her exhaustion Ruth lay awake for hours, bewildered by the hopelessness of the situation. She grew more tense as she tried to figure out all the angles. There were so many trails to be followed, she was impatient for morning. Finally, though, she slept, to rouse an hour after sunrise. Her first thought was of the morning paper and what it would have to say about Lisa.
As she was putting on her clothes she suddenly realized that part of her feeling of depletion was caused by hunger. She hadn't eaten anything yesterday after her late morning brunch. She put on the kettle, then hurried down to the drugstore. Though it hadn't yet opened, the stacks of papers had been deposited just outside the door. Ruth slipped a copy from under the binding cord and left her coin on top of the pile.
The glaring headlines seemed to jump out to meet her: Registered Nurse Disappears." The story that followed was substantially as she and Hugh had turned it in to police headquarters. Nobby would find himself in the limelight, for the report included his having seen Lisa going off with a tall man in a Buick.
The phone was ringing as Ruth went back into the apartment. It was Phil Marston, his voice still husky with sleep.
"Why didn't you let me know what happened?" he asked accusingly. "I tried to get you several times yesterday."
"I was gone most of the time. But Phil, we weren't even sure it was so bad until last night."
"Who's we?"
"Dr. Hugh McAllister, Lisa's fiance."
"But he's a doctor."
"Of course he's a doctor! What's the big idea?"
"You need a detective," retorted Phil.
"We have one."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I was going to offer my services. Who did McAllister get?"
"The police, the FBI, and of course I'll never stop till she's found. We think Gus Stuben took her away."
"Gus Stuben!" Phil exclaimed explosively. "Then you're playing with dynamite."
"It sure looks that way," she agreed. "Of course the paper didn't mention any suspect names."
"Why don't you let me help? It won't cost -- "
"Sure. I need an analysis made at once."
"I'll be right over," he said eagerly.
"Don't stop to eat breakfast. I'll fix enough for us both. I was undernourished all day yesterday. I'm hungry."
By the time Phil rang the doorbell, Ruth had opened orange juice, perked coffee, fried bacon, and had eggs broken for scrambling.
"Smells tempting," he said, sniffing as she led him into the kitchen.
"I didn't think I'd have an opportunity so soon to pay back for the luncheon," she said and laughed. It eased her tension somewhat to have Phil to talk to. He gave her a feeling of security, though one part of her being fought against leaning on him, and on letting him know how badly she needed help.
As she turned on the heat under the frying pan, she said, "You can stick some bread in the toaster while I scramble these eggs."
Three minutes later they were sitting across from each other. While he stirred cream into his coffee he glanced at her, saying, "How about starting at the beginning?"
"Soon as I put away some breakfast," she said, giving attention to the plate before her. "I only had time to get some leftovers yesterday, and it's going to take fuel to cope with what we're up against."
"Sensible," he agreed.
But she was too worried to wait. By the time their plates were empty she had given him a sketchy outline of events up to the moment.
Over their second cups of coffee he remarked, "You said you wanted me to make a test."
"I brought some cigarette butts back. If you can have the dried saliva on them analyzed for blood type, I can get a friend at the hospital to find out Stuben's blood type for me and see if they match. I remember he was a light smoker."
She glanced up to find a glint of admiration in Phil's eyes.
"Be glad to," he agreed.
"That ought to settle the question quite definitely that Stuben has been staying with Arnold Myers."
"Another alias, I suppose?"
"That's the name Stuben gave at the hospital to be notified in case of his death -- at General Delivery window."
"Then it's likely he was the one who came for Lisa."
"And left those muddy tracks on the stairs."
"But it wouldn't necessarily prove Stuben's identity if the saliva on those cigarette butts match his blood type. There're not too many types. There's a chance somebody smoking those cigarettes could have the same blood type as Stuben."
"But not so many who would have left an insulin vial in the garbage. That certainly indicates a diabetic was living there."
"You found an insulin vial?"
She nodded. "The two evidences ought to take it beyond the coincidence class."
"You're probably right," he agreed.
"Wait. I'll get the envelope of cigarette butts."
On hurrying into her bedroom for her purse Ruth noticed the bag of charred paper scraps she had taken from the wire incinerator at Arnold Myers's house, but she left them, preferring to go through them alone later. She took the insulin vial, however, to show Phil. The sales slip from the Casual Shop was also in her purse, and she told him about that.
"It makes my blood freeze to think of Lisa -- of all people -- having` to go through something like this. And just when she's about to be married."
"Do her people have money?"
"Mercy, no! The aunt who reared Lisa is living on a Social Security check and what Lisa can spare from her earnings as a nurse. And Hugh's only getting a start as a doctor. He's still paying back what he borrowed for his education."
"Then money, or a ransom, couldn't be the motive."
"Somebody would have gotten a ransom note before this."
"Even if the blood types check and the fingerprints on the insulin vial indicate that Gus Stuben lived in that house in the woods, where does that get us?" Phil asked, his hazel eyes going as sharp as J. B.'s.
"I have to be sure of that at least, for my foundation," explained Ruth.
"But where do we go from there?" he asked, more as a challenge than as a bid for direction. "They obviously left the house during the storm. Of course he lied about Stuben's having a heart attack. It was only a ruse to get Lisa away from the house without trouble."
"Of course. She nursed him long enough for him to know her kindly, unsuspicious nature -- that she'd come if she thought he needed her badly."
"They chose the stormy night to wipe out all tracks. If, as I feel certain, Gus Stuben is the Communist agent we're after, he's obviously had to go underground."
"I was afraid that's what you thought," remarked Ruth, her blood chilling at this confirmation of her fears.
"When those skunks go into deep freeze, as they call it, their hideouts are almost impossible to find. They choose remote farmhouses, swamps, marshy islands, or inaccessible mountain cabins."
"You make it sound hopeless, Phil."
"In Stuben's physical condition he wouldn't dare go into a remote hideout without somebody to look after him. Abducting a doctor presented too many difficulties. I suppose after he knew your kind and gentle Lisa for a month, she seemed the easiest victim."
Tears swam in Ruth's eyes as she saw the inescapable logic of these deductions.
"By plane they could have reached any remote section of the globe before now. Or they could have left by private boat on the river. Or by train, but that isn't too likely."
"Nobby said the car was' loaded in the back -- as though the man was traveling. It seems certain to me they left by car."
Suddenly she stood up with urgency. "There's so much to do. If you'll have those cigarettes tested for me, I'll go over to the hospital and get Stuben's blood type from Joe, then to the Casual Shop with this sales slip. I may pick up something there that will be helpful."
"I'm afraid that will lead to a dead end," prophesied Phil. "But give me a ring when you find the blood type."
Fifteen minutes later Ruth stopped her car in front of Mertins's Casual Shop in the Southfield shopping area. Business was slack so early in the morning. She found Miss Mertins and another clerk, Mrs. Nina Barton, bending over a newspaper spread out on the glove and purse showcase. If Ruth had been a ghost, they couldn't have been more shocked when they saw her entering.
Pretty, bleached-blonde Miss Mertins' eyes and mouth went wide as she stared at Ruth a moment before she burst forth, "We've just been reading about it in the morning paper."
"How terrible!" exclaimed Mrs. Barton, a middle-aged, plump little woman. "It must be an awful shock to you, honey."
"Have you heard anything more?" asked Miss Mertins, coming around into the center of the store and putting a sympathetic hand on Ruth's arm.
"There're some things that didn't get into the paper. Maybe you can help."
"Us?" the two women exclaimed at once.
Ruth took the sales slip from her purse. "I found this in one of your dress boxes in the closet of the house where we believe Lisa was taken."
Miss Mertins' hand wasn't quite steady as she took the slip, glanced at it, then at her assistant. "You made this out, Nina, for some riding trousers, shirt, and boots."
The plump little woman took the sales slip, glanced at it, and said, "Sure, I remember. It was that tall woman who came in here day before yesterday. That's the date on the slip, all right. She wanted a riding habit -- without a coat -- for her daughter."
"Yes, I do remember, if you mean the one who wasn't certain about the size. Said her daughter was about my size," Miss Mertins recalled.
"I guess I remember it because I thought it was odd a woman her size had a daughter as slim and small as Ann' Mertins," continued Mrs. Barton, still looking at the sales slip. "Another thing I remember, she had no patience when I showed her a suit with a coat. Said she'd have no need for a coat in this climate."
"Don't you and Lisa wear the same size?" asked Ruth, glancing at Ann Mertins.
"Yes. I always call her when something especially attractive comes in in her size."
"So this woman was large," said Ruth, her eyes narrowing. "Did she sort of throw off `in our climate' when talking about not needing a coat?"
"How do you mean?" asked Nina.
"Like so many people who're not native Southerners do -- as if she wasn't used to it."
"Yes. Come to think of it, she did. And she sure didn't talk like a Southerner."
"What's the idea?" said Ann Mertins curiously.
"I have a hunch those clothes were bought for Lisa."
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Ann Mertins.
"A nurse's clothes would mark her anywhere she went." Ruth explained.
"Of course, but riding tops would identify her, too."
"Not if they were taking her where sports clothes were generally worn," retorted Ruth.
"Then it looks like they were taking her where the going was rough," put in Nina.
"Exactly," agreed Ruth. Then she focused her penetrating brown eyes on the older clerk and asked, "Can you describe this woman?"
"She was tall and sort of raw-boned, like I said. I do remember what she wore. I always notice what people wear.
"Yes. Go on. I'd like every detail."
"She had on one of those dresses with elastic in the waistband they had on sale last week at Harrison's Department Store." Nina laughed with a superior air. "We carry only one of a style, but I bet I've seen a half-dozen of those dresses on the street -- same figure design in different colors. This woman's was brown and tan, a cheap dress."
"But she bought things that are expensive, especially riding boots," commented Ruth.
"Oh, she bargained like a trader in the flea market over them. Ended up by buying the cheapest things we had. Honey, I tell you she was cheap, all right."
"Anything else?" urged Ruth.
"I remember the small brown hat she wore," added Ann Mertins.
"That, too, might mark her as not being a native. Practically nobody around here wears a hat in summer," commented Ruth.
"It looked sort of comical sitting so far over her face. And with that big bun on the back of her neck -- "
"Big bun?" Ruth interrupted. "That gives her a wonderful tag."
"But you know, it's a funny thing," added Nina Barton, giggling. "I never would have thought of it again, but now that all this has come up, I remember wondering if it was a bought bun. The rest of the hair under the sailor hat looked sort of wispy and short."
Though Ruth hung around a few minutes longer, trying to extract more information from the clerks, she learned nothing further that seemed helpful. Before she went out she said, "Please don't say anything about what we've discussed. If it gets out that I'm on this woman's trail, it might spoil everything."
"You can be certain we'll say nothing about it," Ann Mertins assured her. "I don't want any unfavorable publicity -- or have my shop mixed up in a kidnapping case."
As Ruth returned to her car and headed for the hospital, her mind outran the odometer. She found one consolation in what she had learned: if the unknown woman had really bought those clothes for Lisa, it seemed possible her captors had no designs on her life -- for the time being, at least. Trousers and boots, Ruth repeated over and over in her mind. Where had they taken Lisa that she would need trousers and boots?
CHAPTER SEVEN
At the hospital, Ruth looked up Dr. Joe and he agreed to find Stuben's blood type for her. In a few minutes he returned, reporting it was AB negative.
"That helps," Ruth mused. "Only two percent of the population has that blood type."
She thanked Dr. Joe and headed back to her apartment. When she arrived, she tried Hugh, who was out, then tried Phil, and unfortunately he was also unavailable. She paced the floor restlessly, then decided a refreshing shower would calm her down.
It did, because after drying off she felt completely relaxed, and since there was nothing else to do but wait, Ruth went into her room to rest. But she was thwarted by a fly that buzzed through the open window. Not wanting to kill it, she managed to shoo it back out with a fly swatter.
"I'd probably break something and not kill the fly!" the pretty redhead laughed.
She reclined on the cool sheets of the bed and smiled. The fly swatter had been a prank gift from Lisa because of Ruth's opposition to hurting any living thing. It was as big as a cop's billy club, meaning that by the time she could swing it a fly could be at the other end of the room. In any case, she tossed it on the bed next to her so it would be handy if the fly decided to return.
"Too bad Phil couldn't be here waiting with me," she murmured. "I can think of a few ways to pass the time."
Her long, luscious body agreed. She felt the first gentle stirrings of desire in her loins as she lay in the path of a soft midday breeze. As she continued to think of the handsome detective and the fun they'd previously had, the stirrings turned into tiny jolts of pleasure. She pictured his large, thick cock, and remembered the way it had filled her up with meaty ecstasy.
"I'd like to sit on that right now!" she exclaimed to the empty room.
Lost in her frisky thoughts, the tall red-head was unaware that her right hand was making a slow, inexorable trip down her firm torso to rest on her bushy, copper-haired mound. She gently played with the curly hairs, causing tiny pangs of sexual need to shoot through her nervous system. Moisture seeped out of her tender slit, making the insides of her slender thighs glisten. The rosy buds of her nipples began to rise sensuously, stiffening with healthy desire. Her other hand softly stroked her creamy globes until she suddenly became aware of the signals her body was sending her.
"What a fine time to get horny!" Ruth cried aloud. "What am I supposed to do, fuck myself?"
Yet as her body's heat increased, lighting up her womb with sparks, the suggestion became more appealing. Her fingers moved a bit more firmly through her moistening muff. She took one aching nipple between thumb and forefinger and began to tweak and pinch it until it was fully erect. She brought the red bud up to her mouth and licked it, bathing the tasty morsel with her warm saliva. Juices ebbed and flowed in her pussy, coating her fingers with musk-scented syrup.
"Hmmmmm... this is good... better than I expected," she cooed.
She gasped with joy, relishing the delicious taste of her stiff, red nipple. Hungry for more, she pressed the entire outward portion of her large mound into her mouth and circled it with her tongue. When she had it in a state of aching need, she switched to the other swelling jug, nibbling and licking it until both her globes quivered with desire.
"Mmmmm... my titties always let me know when I'm ready," the redhead moaned.
Throwing all hesitation to the winds, she moved her fingers up and down the length of her juicy slit, loving the way her twat-fluid oozed out onto her thighs. She pinched her shuddering cunt lips, feeling how they were trying to draw her fingers into her heating furnace.
"A pretty girl like me shouldn't have to masturbate," she mused, "but I guess this will have to do!"
Thus resolved, the horny redhead allowed her middle finger to make a slow, agonizing journal into her canal. The slippery digit snaked its way between her clenched cunt walls, sending thrills of pleasure to the far reaches of her body. As her finger continued its trip, she didn't ignore her jutting jugs. With the palm of her hand she massaged them, one then the other, giving each aching mound equal attention.
"Ohhh... aaaah... " Ruth groaned, her body engulfed in the flames of passion. "I could sure use some cock right now... but I'll just have to use my finger!"
She thrust her middle digit in as' far as it would go and clenched her drenched twat around it. She left it there, buried tightly, until her increasing need required that she begin pressing it in and out. As her finger-fucking thrusts increased, her ass rose up off the mattress to meet the invader. She dug her heels into the bed and rapidly humped her hips harder with each stroke.
"Oh God... uungh... I'm so hot!" she wailed.
Ruth was in a quandary -- loving the finger-fucking motions yet wanting more. She knew a big, hard prick would immediately drive her to new and better heights of lust. Her hot, panting breath bathed her breasts as her tongue feverishly worked them over.
"I need .. something bigger... than my finger!" the voluptuous redhead groaned in frustration.
Her frantic glance suddenly lighted on the long wooden fly swatter. She clutched it gratefully with her hand and drew it towards her. Panting with need, she placed the pole between her wet thighs, the thick edge of the handle poised at the entrance of her honeypot.
Then she hesitated: "This is... too perverse!" she exclaimed, her frustration increasing. "I shouldn't do this... even if I don't have any prick. Oh... "
The passionate woman writhed on the bed, returning to using her finger for satisfaction. Though her body was filled with a steady stream of lightning bolts of pleasure, the need for something long and hard between her slender, quivering legs overrode all other considerations. Even the thrusting, pistoning motion of three fingers being shoved in and out of her slit only brought her so far.
"God, I can't... stand it!" the tall, lust-maddened woman groaned. "I've got to fuck myself with this stick! I don't care if it's depraved... I can't hold back any longer... I... Ohhh!"
Her inhibitions disappeared as Ruth again took the wooden dildo and poised it at her burning portal. Slowly, inexorably, she pressed its hard length inward. Her voice whined and mewled with desire as she felt the handle's tip slip between her dripping pussy lips and continue along her inflamed passageway. Her large tits swelled achingly in reaction as the wonderful dildo progressed.
"Oh Jesus oh shit!" the fiery redhead howled, her wild blue eyes sweeping the ceiling. "This is... what I need... oh yes, I needed something hard!"
Her breathing soon grew too labored for words as the long pole forced its way past her shuddering, drenched cunt walls. With a final shove, Ruth buried the hard tool deep into her steaming inner recesses. Her smooth, shapely legs rose from the bed and flailed the air. Keeping one hand on the implanted dildo, Ruth used the other to resume the delightful ministrations to her red-tipped jugs.
"Can't forget... my tittles!" she gasped, licking one large rosy-red nipple. "I wish I could have sex with ... three men! Yes, that's what I want... one for my tits, one for my cunt... and one to shove his cock up my asshole!"
But the inflamed young girl had no further time for such musings. The needs of her body demanded full attention. Firmly grabbing the wooden tool, Ruth agonizingly worked it in and out of her raging hole, ravaging her tender cunt walls and coating the stick with cascading love juice. In a short time she had worked herself into a frenzy of lust, desperately massaging her jutting melons as she pistoned the long wooden dildo frantically between her flailing legs.
"Oh shit oh fuck oh fuck me!" Ruth howled at the ceiling. "This is too much... can't stop... " The bed began to jump up and down off, the floor as the desire-crazed redhead fucked herself with the glistening fly swatter. Her mind reeled with need as a tidal wave of sweet pressure built up in her loins. She increased the pistoning pace, clamping her cunt walls tightly around the wooden invader after each inward thrust.
"Can't believe this... is so good!" Ruth screamed. "I can't be... oh God, this is... Ohhhhh!!!"
All thoughts were dashed from her mind as the pressure in her enraged womb took over. She knew it was all over, the tidal wave of orgasm was about to engulf her. Wheezing with passion, she plunged the hard dildo in to the hilt and released herself in a wild climax of masturbation.
"Here I... I... Aaaiiiieeeee!!!!!"
Her feet ran in the air and her body contorted in the twisted sheets as she was carried away by the loving agony of total orgasm. She roared along with it, not caring where it led her, her senses shattered.
Some time later, she realized the phone was ringing. She leaped up to 'answer it and found it was Hugh.
"Ruth, I'm in a diner across from my building. Please don't ask any questions. Just come pick me up."
"I'll be right there!" the redhead replied.
She dressed quickly and got into her car. On the trip over her mind was filled with questions about Hugh's unusual behavior and she feared something was terribly wrong. She sighed with relief when he hopped into the car.
"Let's go back to your place." As they drove off, he explained the situation. "Earlier, I went out of town to deliver a baby -- a woman out in the country who wouldn't go to the hospital for the delivery. As I was driving back I noticed a car that kept a certain distance behind me. I took a shortcut on a dirt road to test out my suspicions, and the car still followed."
"Could have been a coincidence."
"Not after I saw the car trailing me again when I went out on another emergency call about the middle of the morning. No, I'm definitely being shadowed. I told Parnell about it when he came over for the FBI this morning. He warned me not to come to their office or do anything to involve you."
"Me?" exclaimed Ruth. Only once had she had a passing thought that any of this might strike home to her.
"It was a large car, driven by a woman."
"A woman!" She thought of the woman who had met Wilton at Bush's Creek, but she had been driving a jeep. Could there be any connection? For the first time she told Hugh about her experience with Phil on the night Lisa had been taken away. She hadn't mentioned it before as she hadn't thought there could be any connection. Now she wondered. Hugh, too, began to suspect they were all caught in a network of conspiracy.
"But I haven't told you yet about what I picked up this morning," she said. "Remember that suit box we found in Stuben's closet?"
"Suit box," Hugh repeated foggily. Then his troubled mind seemed to clear and he said, "Oh, yes, on the floor."
"I went over to Mertins' and talked with Ann Mertins and a clerk." She went on to give details. "I would bet my last dollar those clothes were bought for Lisa," she said finally. "They couldn't take her away in nurses' clothes. That would be too obvious. She'd put on her uniform before she went. She was always a stickler for doing that -- no matter what the rush."
"But riding trousers and boots would be just as conspicuous," stated Hugh.
"Not if they were taking her where sports clothes were generally worn."
"That could be any one of a thousand places in this country."
"But she was a stingy woman, and I'm sure she wouldn't have spent that much money on clothes for Lisa if they intended to murder her."
Hugh couldn't be comforted. "Some conditions of living are worse than death, Ruth. I'm afraid it's stretching probability to think those clothes were meant for Lisa."
"They were about her size, the clerk said. At least it's worth mentioning to the FBI and the police."
"Thank God abductions and kidnapping now come under the jurisdiction of the FBI," said Hugh. "I have great respect for Parnell's ability."
Ruth gave attention to her driving as they rolled into the traffic of the city streets, but her mind was piecing the parts together. Finally she turned to Hugh and said, "Now that there definitely seems to be a woman in this, as well as Gus Stuben and Arnold Myers, I suddenly remember there was a tall foreign-looking woman gazing at the window of Graham's last night while we were talking to Willie and Nobby."
"There were several people milling about -- in and out of the drugstore," he recalled.
"The boys were so excited and talked so loud, anybody could have heard what they said," she recalled uneasily.
They were almost at the apartment when Hugh said, "Parnell wants to talk with you. He went by the apartment this morning, but got no answer when he rang."
"I went to the hospital after I left the Casual Shop." Then she told him how Phil Marston had helped her check the blood type.
"The FBI should know all you've done," Hugh said. "I'll give Parnell a ring as soon as we get up to the apartment."
"It's nice you have a friend there in the FBI," she told him. "How long have you known him?"
"We were in college together. Then I lost touch with Frank until he turned up at Converse Hospital for an operation when I was interning there. While he was recuperating, I learned he'd gone into the FBI. He's a brilliant guy. I'm really lucky he's here."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ruth and Hugh were finishing their lunch when Parnell arrived. Ruth thought she never would have spotted him as an FBI agent. Though he was a larger man than Hugh, he had rather dreamy-looking brown eyes and a leisurely manner that could hardly be associated with the alertness which must be a prerequisite of his chosen profession.
As they talked, however, Ruth had the feeling that Parnell resented their having gone ahead with so much of the investigation before reporting to the FBI. And when she mentioned that she had picked up the cigarette butts and had already had them analyzed, she learned this feeling was accurate. "You had no right to go to the scene of the crime and take away evidence, young lady," Parnell scolded. His brown eyes were no longer dreamy, but sharp and hard as they bored through her.
"But we weren't even sure she was missing and that anything was really wrong until we went out there," she retorted with equal spirit. "I'd like to know who has a better right to do everything possible to clear up this business than Lisa Wendell's closest friend."
"Now, Ruth, don't take offense," said Hugh soothingly.
"But some people give me a pain -- as if I didn't have a dab of sense. I'll have you understand, Mr. Parnell, I've spent years in preparation for detective work. You may as well know the facts now. I'm working on this case as if I were a professional detective. I'll never stop until she's found."
"I'm sure Frank can have no objections," put in Hugh anxiously. "He had no way of knowing you have the ability to be of valuable assistance."
When she saw that Parnell was trying to show more patience in the matter for Hugh's sake, she controlled her flaring temper.
"Would you mind telling me what you've figured out so far?" asked Parnell, not without a lingering touch of sarcasm. "Since you got in on the ground floor in the investigation."
She told him of finding the insulin vial, of her trip to the Casual Shop, and of her early curiosity about Stuben. She saved the blood-type evidence until last.
"My friend Detective Philip Marston had the saliva on the cigarette butts analyzed. He found that it matched Stuben's as recorded at the hospital. That's why I'm so sure the man we want lived in that house in the woods."
"But there're only a few types of blood. The matching could be a coincidence," objected Parnell.
"Hardly in this case," stated Ruth with a positive manner. "His is AB negative."
She saw this made an impression on the FBI agent, and she continued. "As you probably know, only ten per cent are AB, and only two per cent of those are negative. So that really narrows it down, when you add the fact that the insulin vial was found on the premises."
As she talked, Parnell's expression of half-amused tolerance changed to surprise and mounting respect. He put her through a series of questions on what she remembered about Stuben while he was in the hospital.
Finally he said, almost as one investigator to another, "I hope you'll keep in touch with me, Miss Tard, about whatever you pick up. I'd still rather that neither of you come to my office. We'll have to take chances on the phone for urgent contacts. We could always meet here or at the clinic, if that's all right with you, Miss Tard."
"Of course," agreed Ruth. "It looks like it's going to take the combined efforts of every available agency if we're going to find Lisa."
* * *
Ruth and Hugh didn't have to contact Parnell about the next incredible development, however. It was in bold headlines across the front page of the Cartersville Times the following morning: "Nobby Walters Killed by Hit-and-Run Driver."
The lead article told of Nobby's going on his last delivery the previous evening, to be struck down on a dark street by a hit-and-run driver. But no one had witnessed the accident, and there were no clues as to the driver's identity. From car tracks at the scene, however, it looked almost as if the driver had swerved out of the way to strike the boy, hurling him and his motor scooter against a brick wall.
So they had killed Nobby because he had been an eyewitness to Lisa's abduction. This was the obvious answer to the accident. No doubt Parnell had gone right downstairs after he left them yesterday to get a first-hand version from the boy about what he had seen.
Then Ruth remembered the woman looking in the drugstore window the day Nobby and Willie were talking with her and Hugh. Could she have heard what they said and be the murderer? She ran upstairs with the morning paper, locked herself in, and went to the phone. What a comfort to hear Hugh's voice at the other end of the line!
"Have you seen the morning paper?" she asked.
"Yes -- incredible! No doubt the poor kid was murdered. It's beginning to look like Parnell is right. There's evidently more behind this than we imagined."
"But to kill poor innocent Nobby?!" Ruth burst forth almost in tears. "He was so alive -- so -- so eager to help when we talked with him."
"That's just it. I'm afraid he talked too much. They couldn't let him live to identify that man later. He was probably the only person who could give any sort of description of him."
"Oh, Hugh, it gets worse by the hour!"
"I'm afraid it's far worse than anything we thought in the beginning." Hugh paused for a moment, then went on in a lower tone, "Listen, Ruth, I don't want to frighten you, but I don't think it's safe for you to stay on in that apartment alone -- "
"But, Hugh, I've never been nervous being alone -- that is - until --"
"Your courage, or lack of it, has nothing to do with it, Ruth. You mustn't stay there alone. Why don't you go to a hotel for the time being?"
"A hotel? That would be pretty expensive for somebody out of a job at the moment."
"But you mustn't take chances, Ruth. Nobby's death proves we're dealing with a gang that will stop at nothing. I'm still being trailed."
"Oh, Hugh, do be careful -- for Lisa's sake."
When she returned the phone to its cradle, Ruth still sat on the side of the bed, her mind in a fog of indecision. How glibly she had boasted to J. B. Humphries of her deductive ability and her certainty she could be of help in a detective agency. But at the moment she felt completely baffled. And since she was not officially lined up with the police, the FBI, or a private detective agency, she was handicapped about knowing how to proceed.
The buzzing of the doorbell startled her out of her abstraction. Following on Hugh's warning that she shouldn't stay alone in the apartment, it sent a shock through her. Who could it be this early in the morning? As she went uncertainly down the stairs she wondered how she would react if she found herself standing face to face with Arnold Myers. The door had no glass panel, so she opened it only a little way.
"Oh, Phil, it's you!" she cried, relief in her tone.
"Who were you expecting?" he asked, stepping into the hall.
"I didn't know who to expect after what's happened to poor Nobby."
"Then you've already seen the morning paper?"
She nodded and turned to lead the way back upstairs. "Looks like cold-blooded murder," she remarked. She waited until they were inside the living room to mention what she hadn't thought to tell him before, about suspecting someone had overheard Nobby report to her and Hugh.
"But of course Nobby's report was mentioned in that first newspaper account about Lisa," he reminded her. "But I agree with you; it looks very much like cold-blooded murder." His face was troubled as he added, "Listen, Ruth, I don't want to frighten you, but you can't go on staying in this apartment alone."
"Hugh McAllister has just told me the same thing over the phone."
"Why don't you pack up and let me help you move to a hotel until this business is cleared up?"
"Sorry, Phil, but I'm not that flush," Ruth told him frankly. "I'll have to go to a rooming house somewhere, if I don't decide to go home."
"Home? South Georgia?" he asked, surprised. "With nothing settled?"
"Don't think I'm walking out on Lisa!" Ruth flared. "You know I'll never quit till she's found. But remember, I have a brother, Jerry, who's had some FBI training. I'd like to consult him."
"It would certainly be a relief to me to know you're safely there," he said.
She sent him a surprised glance. He had said it as if he meant it from the heart. "Thanks for being concerned about me," she said softly. For a moment their eyes held in a warm exchange. She was certain now he liked her very much, but she almost wished he didn't. She couldn't allow herself to get emotionally involved now, of all times.
To cover the soft flush she knew had mounted to her cheeks she said, "Generally, I'm not the nervous sort. But poor Nobby's death has given me a real jolt."
"As much as I'll miss you, I do think it's just the thing for you to go home right now," he urged. "You know I'll do everything in my power at this end -- in addition to what the FBI and police are doing."
It was comforting to have this assurance that he was in the hunt to the end. When she had applied for work at J. B. Humphries's office, she didn't dream that she would so soon have an opportunity to demonstrate what she could do. But the spirit of braggadocio was gone now, squelched by her extreme anxiety for the closest friend she had. Her only thought was to get all the help possible from every available direction to rescue Lisa.
Now she turned to Phil with a thought that had been much on her mind. "You told me when we first met that you were on the trail of Gus Stuben. Could he have gotten wind of that, and so decided to go into hiding, taking Lisa with him?"
"Exactly. But where?" Phil said. "I think we've established with fair certainty that Stuben and perhaps Arnold Myers did live for a while in that house in the woods. But where do we go from there?"
"Maybe Jerry can help us dope that out. He's really keen, Phil."
Before he left, Phil made Ruth promise to let him know what she decided to do and where she would be. As he left she followed him down the stairs to get the morning mail. She was glad to find a letter from Jerry. She had phoned home as soon as they were certain Lisa was missing, but there had been so little to tell the family then.
Now Jerry, not trusting the privacy of phone conversations, had written, suggesting that they get together to discuss developments. He thought Harry might drive him to town if Ruth couldn't come home. Then and there she decided she would go to see him.
There were innumerable things to do in preparation for leaving the apartment for an indefinite period. She felt responsible for Lisa's possessions, so she gathered up her jewelry, a few special things about the room, such as Hugh's picture and the little white Bible given Lisa by her mother. These she stored on the closet shelf; then she locked the door. As she packed she ran across the bag of charred scraps she had brought from the house in the woods. She took it to the window and looked inside. It was rubbish; she wondered why she had brought it home. She was about to drop it in the wastebasket when she remembered how often Jerry had been able to make something out of seemingly nothing. She changed her mind, put an elastic band around the neck of the bag, and placed it on her suitcase.
But on second thought, she decided to have a look now, her curiosity was so stimulated. She spread an old dry-cleaning wrapper on the bed and dumped the contents of the bag on it. For a minute or two she thought she was wasting precious time. Fire had done a rather good job with the papers. But gradually she picked out a few bits that hadn't been completely charred. One was a scrap of a letter in a foreign language. She had studied only French, and this wasn't French. She put the bit carefully aside in an empty tissue box.
Next she noticed a bit of the cover of a slick paper magazine, with the first two letters of the title distinguishable: AU. On finding part of a picture of a bird on the other side, she jumped to the conclusion that it was the Audubon Magazine. After further separation of the charred bits she retrieved something that looked like a corner of a travel folder with the letters KEE still legible on one line, and on the next below it and a little to the right the letter K.
The last letter K might be the end of the word PARK, she speculated. But what park ended in KEE? She knew there were many rivers, towns, mountains, and parks in Georgia bearing Indian names. It didn't seem at all likely that Stuben and his friend Myers would take Lisa to any public park area. Yet the boots and clothes they had bought seemed to indicate that they might.
Then, as she studied the scrap of paper, something seemed very familiar about the way those letters were built of little woodblock sections. Then in a flash she had it: Okefenokee Park! Why hadn't she thought of it instantly? The edge of the Okefenokee Swamp was within fifty miles of the Tards' farm.
Ruth jumped to her feet. Now she couldn't get home fast enough to talk with Jerry. She would have to hurry, too, to reach the farm before dark. She certainly had no desire for night to overtake her on those lonely roads through the piney woods of south Georgia.
CHAPTER NINE
Ruth received a hearty welcome from her family when she drove up to the old farm-house about sundown. As much as she wanted to spare her family, she couldn't soften the grim details in her report of what had happened.
"If you'd only stay home, honey, like I want you to," said her father from the head of the table, "then you wouldn't be mixed up in all this."
Howard Tard, a tall, gangling man, had spent all his life on the farm, and to him cities were anthills of iniquity. He still maintained that Jerry might never have come down with polio had he not gone off to train with the FBI. And much to Howard Tard's regret his eldest, Barry, had accepted a position in New York City and married there. But Harry was a child after his own heart, content to stay at home, as he had found a way to combine farming and his yen to be a flyer, by becoming a crop duster. Harry was a hearty chap of twenty-three, somewhat overweight, with hair a bit more reddish bronze than Ruth's, and skin burned dark as an Indian's by his outdoor life.
Grace Tard had found complete fulfillment in making a comfortable home for her family. She felt that good food was a panacea for most troubles and had prepared Ruth's favorite dishes, after her daughter had phoned to say she would be home before dark. But tonight Ruth was too keyed up to eat more than one piece of fried chicken, for the family continued to ply her with questions during the meal.
Jerry, sitting quietly at his mother's right, asked the fewest. He looked quite pale beside the ruddy Harry, and his face still bore marks of the devastating disease, but it had been a spiritualizing process that gave him an expression of patience and gentleness; He let the family have their inning while he listened, thought, and drew his own deductions.
Ruth's parents had always gone to bed early and risen at dawn, so they went upstairs soon after supper. And Harry had to conduct a 4-H meeting for a club he sponsored.
"If I'd known sooner you were coming, Sis, I'd have gotten somebody else to take my place. But those boys are counting on me, so I'll have to be there."
"Sorry you can't be in on the discussion when Jerry and I get down to details," said Ruth. "Three heads are better than two."
"I'm afraid Jerry doesn't think so. But anyhow you can count on me for help. Maybe my helicopter can be of service."
"Helicopter?" she exclaimed. "When did you swap in the Cub?"
"A few days ago. She's a beauty. Can sit her down anywhere. I'll take you up tomorrow."
"I flew a copter some when I was taking flying lessons. I'll be glad to give yours a try."
"Sure thing," he agreed.
When Harry had gone, Ruth walked beside Jerry as he rolled his chair into his "shack" -- the room where he operated his ham rig. Ruth didn't put her hand on the chair to speed his progress, for Jerry always flared up if help was given when he could manage for himself.
His room was a large, airy one that had been built on the first floor after his illness. There were windows on three sides giving wide views of the lawns and an oak grove. Everything possible had been devised for his comfort, to make him as independent as possible. There were rope pulleys over his bed and in his bathroom, so he could lift himself from his chair without help. His television set had a remote control that could be operated from his bed or chair. His ham rig, which Ruth had helped him build during his days of recuperation, was on a long table against the one wall. He was constantly tinkering with it, adding improvements.
Contacts with other ham operators brought the outside world to this shut-in on the pine flats of south Georgia. He had made friends abroad -- in Germany, Italy -- and in Puerto Rico.
"Have you been making any interesting contacts lately?" asked Ruth as Jerry stopped his chair in front of his rig.
"I've been listening in on some conversations I'm really curious about," he told her.
"What are they talking about?"
"Birds. Bird watching has certainly become a fad, but I've been wondering if these watchers aren't something more than faddists."
Ruth knew her brother well enough to be sure his curiosity wasn't just a surface matter. "You think it's phony talk -- a cover for real information?"
He smiled, proud of her sharpness. "Exactly! Somebody -- not too far from here -- is acting as a clearing house for information coming in from several directions."
"Spies?"
"I'm almost sure."
"Phil Marston, my detective friend, believes it's Communists who've taken Lisa away. I didn't want to mention this before Mom and Dad."
"I suppose when they had to go under, they had to have somebody to look after the sick man. He must be very valuable for them to go to the expense of taking an extra -- and the risks of it, too!"
"Evidently so. But Gus Stuben's nobody's fool. He has a brilliant mind. Lisa got to know him at the hospital better than I did. She nursed him for about three weeks. She said there weren't many things he didn't know something about."
"Those deep-freeze hideouts, Ruth, are really hard to find."
"Where are they generally?"
"They've been as obvious as walkups in the heart of big cities."
"Of course elevator operators and doormen might carry tales," commented Ruth.
"But the toughest ones to locate are in the isolated areas. They're generally operated for the benefit of those who have to go under by someone who's made himself a part of the community -- seems above reproach. He serves as a go-between, bringing in food and information for the hiding subversives."
"Sounds hopeless," said Ruth. "Think of the endless hideouts there could be in those marshy islands off the coast of Carolina and Georgia."
"Or in the mountains or swamps."
It took Ruth some time to go over the whole case, giving Jerry the more alarming details she had omitted for the sake of her parents of the attempt on Phil's life and the hit-and-run killing of Nobby Walters.
Jerry looked anxious. "I'm certainly glad Hugh and Phil advised you to get out of the apartment," he said.
"I had run down all the clues I could pick up there. I wanted to talk things over with you, anyhow. But wait a minute -- I brought home something I haven't fully analyzed. Maybe you can help me dope it out."
"Good!" he exclaimed, eager as a retired horse to try another race. "What is it?"
"Just a minute. I'll get it."
She hurried to her room for` the bag of charred scraps. As she returned to Jerry she picked up a large lapboard, which fitted across his chair. She then dumped the contents of the bag on it for his inspection. From the tissue box she took the three items she had already retrieved: the bit of slick-paper folder, showing the four woodcraft letters, the scrap she believed had been part of the Audubon Magazine, and the charred corner of the letter in the foreign language.
Jerry reached to his table for a magnifying glass and some tweezers he used for his stamp collection. He examined the scrap of the letter first. "It's Spanish," he said at once. "A couple of words here could mean `dismal swamp.'"
"Dismal swamp," she repeated, her blue eyes lighting up. "Jerry, I'm beginning to get a real lead! You've been hearing strange talk over your rig about birds. Look, wouldn't you say this is a scrap of an Audubon Magazine?"
He took the bit of paper and also glanced at the charred triangular edge with the letters KEE and K on it. "This year's issues of Audubon are over on the shelf," he said. "And bring that stack of travel folders, too. I've seen this somewhere before," he added, holding up the bit of paper.
The training he had had in observation and memory served him well now. Ruth ran through the magazines while Jerry sorted the folders, which the family had accumulated over the years from their vacation excursions. Jerry had brought them to his room to help him pass the lonely hours.
"Would you believe it!" exclaimed Jerry finally. "Here it is!" He extended a folder toward Ruth, bearing the title in woodcraft lettering, "OKEFENOKEE SWAMP PARK," and beneath the picture was the caption, "Land of Trembling Earth."
"Well, what do you know!" exclaimed Ruth, holding the scrap of paper she had rescued beside the whole folder. "And Okefenokee within fifty miles of us."
"Don't jump to conclusions," Jerry warned her. "They could have picked up a folder like this without ever going anywhere near the swamp."
"Well, this June number of Audubon Magazine is the one this scrap came from," added Ruth. "The occupants of that house were certainly interested in birds, and birds are one of the outstanding attractions of the Okefenokee, and you've grown suspicious about so much bird talk you've listened to."
Jerry had to admit it all seemed to add up to a lead, at least. "You said Phil Marston agreed with you that the boots and trousers could have been bought for Lisa?"
"It's the logical deduction. They were only a size larger than hers -- the boots I mean. And out at that house there were muddy tracks of a nurse's shoes going in, but none coming out. She was either forced to change her shoes, or she was carried out of there dead or unconscious! But I just won't let myself think that!" exclaimed Ruth.
"She may be going through more awful things than death, Ruth." Nor had Ruth let herself think of the things Jerry implied, though she was sure they could be worse than death.
But Jerry was continuing: "She would certainly need the boots if they were taking her into the swamp. A snake-bitten nurse wouldn't be of any service to Stuben."
When she was in her teens, Ruth had once camped overnight in Okefenokee with her brothers. The experience was one she would never forget. The bellowing of bull alligators, the hooting of barred owls, the scream of bobcats, the eerie hissing and popping sounds in the swamp muck, were enough to freeze the blood of a Dracula. She had had nightmares for weeks afterward in which she was fighting off snakes and alligators, or being sucked down into the trembling earth as she tried to flee.
"Even if there's a possibility their hideout is in the swamp, it's still rather hopeless," Jerry continued. "Remember, there's seven hundred square miles of the densest swamp to be found anywhere in this country. Think of how many people have gone into it and never been heard of again."
"I know," agreed Ruth with a sigh. "If they've taken her there, it really seems hopeless."
"Even if you could find their hideout, there isn't much chance they would ever let Lisa get away alive. By this time she would know too much."
"If it were anyone but Lisa, she might have fought back -- refused to do anything for him -- but Lisa's so kindhearted, so eager to help when anyone is ill."
"But you don't know these Communists, Ruth. They have the most fiendish ways of forcing people to do what they want."
"I can imagine," agreed Ruth. "After what happened to Nobby and the way they've been trailing Hugh."
For a few minutes Jerry carefully separated the charred bits of paper on the lap-board with the tweezers. He found another scrap of the letter in Spanish, but it was not enough for him to make anything of.
Ruth had been thinking hard while she waited, and now she asked, "Jerry, why did you get suspicious about all that talk you heard on your rig -- about birds? So many people are bird fans."
"Well for one thing, they've talked about birds that I'm sure aren't found in the areas they claimed -- and migrations after the migratory season."
"So you think it's a code to cover the real information?"
"Exactly."
"How did you happen to tune in on it? This isn't some of the hams you've been chatting with?"
"No. About a week ago I got restless before dawn, couldn't sleep, so came over and turned on the rig. It wasn't long before I picked up this fellow talking about the flight of a golden eagle. Now you know how rare golden eagles are, but he kept comparing him with others he'd seen. I've heard of them being seen on rare occasions in the Okefenokee, but never on the coast of Florida, where this guy was talking from. Next morning the papers carried an account of the landing of a moon satellite."
"I get you!" exclaimed Ruth. "You think there're ham operators at strategic places keeping a central operator informed of our secret activities."
"Exactly. I think it so strongly, I've decided to get in touch with the FBI. They probably already have wind of it, but the notes I've made on the conversations may be helpful."
"What a risky thing for them to do. They certainly can't get operating licenses without permission of the FCC -- "
"I'm sure there're a couple of bootleg operators in the group. As for the others, you'd be amazed how quickly they can fold up and vanish if they find anyone getting suspicious."
With the multiplicity of details and conflicting clues, Ruth began to feel confused. Was all this getting them anywhere in the search for Lisa? Or were they wasting their time?
It was after eleven when Harry got home, but he was eager for details, wand the three stayed up several hours discussing the various possibilities. Jerry had the idea that one of the bootleg stations was in or near the Okefenokee.
"If secret information is being gathered from all this area," he continued, "I figure there's a shortwave station in touch with Russia."
"Listen, Ruth," said Harry, turning to his sister, "we could fly over the swamp in the helicopter tomorrow. If we located an aerial anywhere, that might give us something to work on."
"Do we dare?" she asked, frightened yet excited by the idea. "If we had to land somewhere on one of those trembling-earth islands, we might never get out alive."
"We'll skirt the edges first and go deeper if we have to. After all, the swamp is only about thirty miles across and twice that length."
"I'm game to try it, Harry, if you are," stated Ruth. "I'd face even sleeping in the swamp again if there was the slightest chance of finding Lisa."
Fortunately, that wasn't the case for this particular evening. The family meeting broke up and Ruth went to her room to try to get some sleep. It was a warm night, so she decided not to wear a nightgown. She shed her clothes and lay atop the bed's cool sheets.
Try as she might, though, the pretty red-head couldn't drift off to dreamland. Anxious thoughts raced through her mind faster than she could comprehend them. Of course, she knew all the thoughts centered on her deep concern for Lisa. She would be concerned no matter who was in danger, but the fact that it was her good friend and roommate made Ruth all the more restless and worried.
"I could be more objective... if I didn't love Lisa," the tall girl murmured.
She could admit it without embarrassment now. Ruth was in love with the sexy, brown-haired girl. Certainly, some time ago she had thought that love between two women was unnatural and filled with perversity, but after knowing Lisa, Ruth realized it was natural and refreshing. And it was nice to know you could love a woman and still have plenty of time and desire for any handsome man who came into your life.
"It's like having my cake and eating it, too!" Ruth giggled in the dark room.
As she lay on the bed, Ruth recalled how she and Lisa had discovered then feelings for each other. They had been roommates for several months and because of their pleasant dispositions it had been easy for them to become good friends. Often they would chat the night away, drinking tea as they sat on the couch in their thin night-gowns.
Of course, Ruth was not oblivious to her friend's voluptuous build and cute, oval face and her large brown eyes. And from time to time she knew Lisa's eyes were on her, giving her red hair and tall form admiring gazes. Occasionally, when standing close together, they would enjoy each other, loving the feel of their healthy, smooth skin.
"But one night it went beyond admiration and touching," Ruth whispered.
It was at the time when Lisa was first dating Hugh, while Ruth was between boy-friends. The tall redhead had just come out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. She knew Lisa was getting dressed for a dinner engagement with Hugh, yet when Ruth entered the living room she saw that the brown-haired beauty was standing listlessly against the couch.
"What's the matter, Lisa?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm not sure I feel like going out tonight," the brunette replied. "I guess I'm a bit tired. But Hugh would be disappointed."
"Well, you've still got some time to decide."
As Ruth ran a comb through her soft, red hair she told herself Hugh wouldn't be disappointed if he could see Lisa at that moment. She wore only a thin blouse and panties. The blouse was a sheer blue, and Lisa had only partially buttoned it, revealing the deep valley of her smooth cleavage. Her pink panties were very brief, and Ruth could easily see the furry, brown edge of her pubic bush above the material. Her long, slender legs shone in the lamplight.
"Why are you tired, Lisa?" Ruth asked. "Didn't you sleep well last night?"
"Not too bad. I had a few dreams that... that kept me... awake for a little while afterward. I thought of coming into your room to... relax."
"Oh, you should have!" the redhead exclaimed. "That would've been fun." She wondered why the idea sent a warm tingle through her body.
Lisa went on. "I don't know if I'm actually tired. I did have kind of a rough day at work. A lot of bending and running around. What we need around here is a masseuse."
As she said this, Lisa glanced at her luscious, red-haired roommate. For some reason, mentioning a massage in Ruth's presence caused a thrill to jump through her. Though she was suspicious of her motives, she realized she would feel much better with Ruth's hands on her.
As though reading her thoughts, Ruth said, "I'll take a stab at it. I've given some decent massages in my day."
"Oh no, Ruth, I couldn't ask it!"
"Why not? I don't mind at all and I'm not in a rush to get anywhere. Here, lie down on the couch."
"Are you sure?" Lisa inquired, suddenly blushing at the idea.
"Of course. Don't be shy."
To her relief, Lisa complied without further hesitation. Ruth couldn't understand why the sudden prospect of allowing her hands to roam over the young girl's lovely body made her quiver with delight. For a moment she wondered if maybe she was turning into... a lesbian! But that couldn't be possible, she reasoned, because her desire for men remained as strong as it ever was.
"Well, I'm waiting," Lisa giggled.
With her ruminations, Ruth had temporarily forgotten about her roommate. Lisa was on her stomach, spread the length of the couch. The succulent mound of her ass formed a very inviting curve. Resecuring her towel, Ruth climbed between the young girl's spread legs and stood on her knees.
"Which area needs attention first?" she asked.
"Well; let's start with the lower back," Lisa replied. "All the bending gave me an ache there."
"All right, here we go."
So saying, the pretty redhead bent over and lifted up the edge of Lisa's blouse to the middle of her smooth back. Because her panties were so tiny, Ruth could easily see a few inches of soft crevice between the girl's curvaceous ass cheeks. Ruth placed her hands just above this inviting area and pressed her fingers into the smooth flesh. She massaged gently, working her hands in circular motions.
"Now work your way up my back, please," Lisa cooed.
"At your service, ma'am," Ruth laughed.
The redheaded roommate gradually moved her massaging hands up Lisa's back until she had to stop at her shoulders because the bunched-up blouse was in the way. Realizing Ruth's problem, the brunette got up on her elbows and quickly undid the buttons.
I'm not going to let this stop me from getting this great treatment!" Lisa laughed as she tossed the garment aside, then stretched out again.
Much to her embarrassment, Ruth felt the seepage of tell-tale moisture as she gazed at Lisa's body. Now the luscious brunette was naked except for the skimpy panties. She considered coming up with some excuse to halt the massage in order to be alone and think this situation out, but Lisa was not to be denied.
"Hey, let's go, before I stop relaxing," she called.
Ruth resumed her sensuous task. Her gentle hands worked their way across Lisa's shoulders, down her long arms, then along the girl's smooth sides. She felt a delightful thrill race through her as her fingers pressed against the fleshy .mounds of the brunette's breasts. She didn't know if it was her imagination, but Lisa seemed to lift herself up slightly, enabling Ruth to slowly fondle the large melons. The redhead barely stopped herself from reaching all the way around to touch Lisa's large, full nipples.
"I... shouldn't be doing this," Ruth muttered under her breath. "Why is this getting me excited?"
"Did you say something?" Lisa asked.
"N-no... just thinking aloud."
With an effort, Ruth moved her hands away. She retraced her previous path down Lisa's back until her fingers roamed across the edge of the young girl's panties.
"Hmmmm... my hips need to be rubbed," Lisa murmured.
Ruth was afraid to stop, worried that her roommate would guess the reason for hesitating. Her hands massaged Lisa's soft, round buttocks. Ruth realized with a shock that the seeping moisture in her womb had become a steady dripping of warm love juice. She felt the syrupy droplets course down her thighs, and she feared they would find their way onto Lisa's legs.
"Had enough, L-Lisa?" the redhead stammered.
"Are you kidding? This feels wonderful! Here, get my panties out of the way."
Lisa lifted her hips up, and Ruth couldn't help but follow her orders. She tugged the tiny garment off, past the girl's long, slender legs, and dropped it to the floor. Now Lisa lay before her in all her naked splendor, her white, soft asscheeks jiggling when she shifted on the couch. Ruth gasped, the sensuous sight causing a strong yearning reaction in her pussy that flooded her body with a perverse need.
"Rub me harder, Ruth... it feels so good," the lovely brunette crooned.
The redhead now could not resist her hands. As though they had a life of their own, her palms and fingers gently caressed every inch of her roommate's young body, pausing to give special attention to the creamy mounds of her ass. So vigorous where her ministrations, Ruth didn't realize until it was too late that her towel had become unfastened and slipped to the floor. Now the two voluptuous roommates were nude, their healthy, curvaceous bodies almost pressed together.
"Maybe, after I'm through, you can... do the same thing to me," Ruth suggested tentatively.
"Yes, honey... anything," Lisa whispered.
And the pretty brunette meant what she said literally. Having her beautiful roommate's hands on her body, and their mutual nakedness, had 'not gone unnoticed. Lisa worried that she was drenching the couch with her cascading pussy juice. Jolts of intense pleasure shot through her like lightning whenever Ruth massaged her flushing asscheeks.
The young girl yearned to turn around and bury Ruth's lovely face between her swelling jugs. But she was afraid the red-head would think her very depraved. It was wrong to make love to another woman, even one's roommate... wasn't it?
Similar thoughts were running through Ruth's fevered mind. Her eyes widened when she glanced down and saw how her breasts were swelling, the wide, rosy nipples stiffening with desire. She wished fervently that she could rub them back and forth, and especially pop one rosy bud into her hungry mouth.
"God, I'm so hot!" she muttered, her body quaking with need. "But I shouldn't be... "
She bent forward to once again massage the flattened bulge of Lisa's warm melons. As she did so, her moist muff came in contact with Lisa's buttocks, leaving a trail of musk-scented juice as she moved forward. Ruth wanted to draw back and run away from shame. But her resistance broke down. As her trembling fingers massaged the sides of the brunette's jugs, she rubbed her heating mound along the length of the young girl's damp ass crack.
"Like this?" she croaked.
Lisa nodded her approval. She was not oblivious to what the wetness on her ass meant. She moaned inwardly with delight, glad that her roommate felt the same way she did. She gave herself up completely to the situation, lifting her hips as Ruth's juicy bush rubbed her asscheeks harder. Then, unable to hold back any longer, Lisa turned over and reached up to the lovely redhead, her moist lips, beckoning. Ruth panted with excitement as her friend's pubic mound and ample breasts were revealed to her. She flung herself on the gorgeous brunette, crying her carnal need.
"Oh, Lisa, I'm sorry... I can't help it... I'm so horny all of a sudden!"
"Me, too, honey," Lisa replied reassuringly. "Let's let our bodies do the talking."
Lisa drew her friend's pretty face toward her and their full, red lips joined in a long, lingering kiss of feminine passion. Their wet tongues searched each other out, and their mouths exchanged warm, flowing saliva. They pressed their swollen tits together, pressing the stiff, rosy nipples into soft, yielding flesh.
"Oh, Ruth... oh, I love you!" Lisa exclaimed.
The redhead silently returned the statement by kissing her friend's smooth neck and chest. She hitched herself down and gave full attention to the young girl's red-tipped mountains. Lisa mewled with desire as her roommate licked each rosy bud, bringing it erect. Ruth alternated between the two, popping the nipples into her mouth and sucking vigorously on the tasty tit-flesh. "That's it, honey," Lisa cooed. "Eat my titties!"
Ruth made a full meal of her friend's ample jugs. Then she found herself moving farther down, yearning to bury her face in the luscious brunette's wet, musky twat.
"No, wait!" Lisa cried, stopping the red-head's progress. "Let's do it to each other!"
"You mean... sixty-nine?" Ruth whispered.
"Yes. Let's eat each other out right away!"
Completely forgetting their previous inhibitions, the two girls quickly shifted position. Lisa grabbed her friend's long slender legs and brought the copper-colored muff to her mouth, as Ruth lowered her head to put her lips on Lisa's brown hair-fringed pink meat. Reaching out her tongue, she tentatively licked the glistening, grasping pussy lips.
"Oooh... yeah... lick my cunt!" Lisa groaned.
Her body writhed on the couch as Ruth again touched her quivering slit with her warm tongue. Leaning upward, the lusty brunette placed her tongue between the red-head's pink lips, then she snaked inward, lapping up the flow of syrupy cunt juice that dripped into her feasting mouth.
"Lisa... oh, darling, lick my pussy!" Ruth whimpered.
"And... eat me, too, sweetheart!" the lovely young roommate replied.
Overcome by mutual need, the two voluptuous women fell to their succulent meal. They ground their hard-tipped breasts into each other's smooth legs as their tongues were thrust into steaming, wet vaginas. Their hunger was so great, that after only a minute of intense pussy-eating, the two friends felt the pressure in their wombs poised at an undeniable level.
"Ruth... I'm so hot... I... "
"Me, too, honey, me... meeeee!" the redhead replied with a hysterical moan.
Knowing that bliss was only moments away, the roommates increased their licking and nibbling. They thrashed on the couch, their bodies melting together, their feasting mouths bringing each other to the verge of sweet agony.
"Yes... oh God, yes!" the brunette howled. "Can't hold back... aaayyyaaaahhhhh!!!"
With the last fragment of reality, they attacked each other, their wailing voices rising to a high-pitched wailing level of mutual climax.
"Ooooowwweeeee!!!!!"
They squashed and ground against each other as their luscious bodies exploded. Eventually, when their rocking subsided, Lisa got up and called to cancel her date with Hugh. Grinning at the pretty redhead, the young girl put down the phone, then led Ruth into the bedroom where their love was further consummated.
Thinking such fun thoughts, Ruth now was able to close her eyes and fall into a deep sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
The next morning, Ruth and her brother, Harry, got into the little helicopter and took off. When they reached the jungle area, they searched for a logical house for Stuben to stay at.
"There'll probably be a house big enough . for three people or more," Jerry had speculated. "A man in Stuben's precarious health couldn't survive in the swamp without adequate housing and a few essential comforts."
Now the brother and sister combed the dense area, until Harry thought he spotted a house that looked like it might serve as a hide-out. Nearby, they saw a dock on the river surrounded by small boats. Harry landed near it and he and Ruth went up to a man whittling on his boat.
After a few questions, the man confided he knew of a boat hidden upstream. "Yep," he said, "they thought they was clever but I spotted it. A short time ago, I recall, I was up there in a good spot, cuttin' cypress knees. These new fellas have cleaned out most of 'em close round the park. But that day I come upon the boat hid snug as you please under some tangled vines and kivered over with Spanish moss."
"Then you had a look into the boat?" Ruth asked.
"Wan't nothin' in it, fust time I see it, but a yellow wrapper off one o' them rolls o' film like the tourists always bringin in heah, and some bits of an old magazine wid bird pictures on it."
Ruth couldn't hide her growing excitement. "The first time," she repeated. "Then you saw the boat again?"
"Next time I seen the owner, too."
"Did he see you?" asked Harry urgently. "You don't show yourse'f to strangers in this swamp till you git than number. I was bendin' down in the muck sawing off a cypress knee when I heered him comfit' way off." He paused and glanced warily from Harry to Ruth. "But I reckon this is borin' to y'all."
"It's not at all," said Harry, urgently putting his hand on Hank's arm. "Please tell us everything you know about this man, Hank."
"Now, I don't want to git nobody in trouble, specially not myself," said Hank warily.
"Look here, Hank," said Harry, "We came here looking for someone. What you're telling us may be the lead we need."
"Oh, well, then, you know I wouldn't shut my trap if it'll help you, Harry. I don't know nothin' bout this man but what I seen."
"What did he look like?" asked Ruth, trying to bridle her excitement.
"Big man, he was, totin' a carton on his shoulder, then set it down in the boat."
"He didn't see you? Was he alone?" Harry asked.
"Nobody but him. I laid low behind a cypress. I'd left my boat apiece back. I laid low till he started back where he come from, then went closer to the boat and hid in some underbrush. He made three trips back into the swamp, bringin' stuff to store in the boat -- even some screen wirin' fer windows. Finally he took off downstream."
"How had he brought the stuff into the swamp?"
"Lord knows. He had on high boots. He'd mashed up in a lot of bog bringin' it in. He could've drove into the swamp partway on one of them overgrown roads left from the time when they used to haul out lots of cypress logs from round heah -- 'fore the gov'ment took it over."
"Have you any idea where he took the things?" asked Harry.
"He headed northeast toward a lake over thar."
"Does anybody live over that way that he could have been taking supplies to?" asked Ruth.
"Live thar?" exclaimed Hank, spitting another stream of tobacco juice into the canal. "I wonder how even gators live in that boggy jungle t'other side the lake. Pin-down bushes grow so thick over thar a man would have to cut his way through with a butcher knife. I've heard old-timers say after a hard rain a boat can push through the low places. I wouldn't like to risk my bones thar. You're too likely to be et by panthers and bobcats."
"When was it you saw him loading that boat?"
"Two-three days ago. Funny thing, I was up thar yesterday -- business has been right brisk in cypress knees lately, so I had to git some more. I was still curious 'bout that boat, to know if it was still thar, and sho' nuff, it wuz. I sniffed around it. Wan't no smell o' moonshine in it, so maybe that man wan't doin' no harm."
"But surely he couldn't have eaten all those supplies in a couple of days," speculated Ruth.
"I figgered he couldn't neither. Reckon he wuz takin' in supplies to somebody campin' up in the swamp a spell."
"I've been coming into the swamp since I was a kid," said Harry. "I can't figure out how he got into that section without going up the canal or the Suwannee River."
"He could've come in one boat and had to transfer the stuff over crost a bog to another," speculated Hank. "Then he might've made it in a truck or jeep on one o' those old boggy trails. But I figgered no man in his right senses would go to all that trouble to keep out o' people's way if he didn't have somepin' to hide."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
When a couple of tourists came along, wanting to take a short trip into the swamp in Hank's boat, the old man turned to the Tards, saying, "My li'l ole flatboat can go whar them motorboats wouldn't dare, fer tanglin' thar rudders in lily stems."
"We'll probably see you again later, Hank," Ruth said, as the old guide stepped aside for the couple to get into the boat.
Ruth could scarcely wait till they were off before eagerly turning to her brother. "Harry, it's beginning to look like we're on the right trail."
"Could be," he agreed. "But even if that guy has been taking in supplies to the kidnapers, there're a hundred directions he could go from where he leaves that boat hidden."
"If we could get some fingerprints from the paddle or pole in that boat, it would give us something real to go on," she speculated.
Harry's reddish-brown eyes focused sharply on her. "That's an idea, Ruth. We could bring back Jerry's fingerprinting equipment and get old Hank to take us up there."
"Would you really help me do it, Harry?" she asked eagerly. "We could fly back home for the equipment and get back here in the early afternoon. That ought to give us time enough to make the boat trip up there before dark."
They had started back toward the helicopter when Harry suggested, "I'll leave word for Hank that we want him to take us into the swamp about two o'clock."
A few minutes later they were heading northwest across the swamp. This time Harry flew diagonally over the prairies, carpeted with blooming water lilies. Here and there were little bush-and tree-grown islands, called houses. These were patches of trembling earth where plants had taken root, even though water and bog were just beneath the surface. The weight of a person walking could make the earth tremble. Indians had long ago given the whole swamp the name Okefenokee -- trembling earth.
With fascination Ruth watched the shifting scene below. Soon the prairies were left behind, and again the copter was flying above the solid ceiling of the swamp formed by the densely growing trees. Then Ruth spied an eagles' nest in a tall pine. Hoping for a glimpse of the birds, she was staring intently when sunlight glinted on what she thought were wires. It was only a flash, but she got the impression the wire was stretched between two tall pines. Her heart bulged into her throat. It could be an aerial!
She nudged Harry. "Circle!" she yelled, pointing frantically downward. By the time he could react and turn, the wire, if there had been one, was lost among the treetops. But she did spot the dead pine with the eagles' nest again, and noted there were two other very tall pines close to it. Though Harry circled the area twice, she couldn't again locate what she had hoped might be an aerial.
"Might as well go on," she said finally, after passing over the eagles' nest a second time. They couldn't risk stirring suspicion if the hideout was really near.
Her feeling of frustration became almost maddening as Harry headed for home. How awful to think Lisa might be down there somewhere in the jungle, perhaps within a few hundred yards, and they were powerless to help her.
An hour later, while Mrs. Tard speeded up her midday dinner preparations, Ruth and Harry gave Jerry a detailed report of what they had picked up. Harry traced the course they had followed on the swamp map and pointed out the approximate spot where Ruth thought she had seen aerial wires.
"But there's not an open space within miles where I could set the helicopter down," Harry said gloomily.
"A helicopter landing would only put the spies on the alert," Jerry replied. He agreed that the next step was to get fingerprints from the hidden boat. "There's no point in risking the dangers of the deep swamp without something definite to go on," he told them.
Ruth told him about Phil's taking prints out at Arnold Myers's house before the FBI took over. "If those we can get match any he found there, we can be sure we're on the right trail," she said.
"Maybe you'd better talk to Marston about it," Jerry suggested. "If he'd bring the prints down here, we could compare them as soon as you get back, and start the search."
"I could phone and ask him," agreed Ruth, excited by the idea of having Phil here.
To her relief, Phil was in the office for a change, and he was delighted to hear her voice and to know she had reached home safely. But when she told him what she and Harry had already done that morning and that they were planning to return to the swamp for fingerprints, he tried to dissuade her from going until he could join them.
"That would put it off until tomorrow," she objected.
"But Ruth, you mustn't take such chances. Aside from the danger of the spies, that swamp is a deathtrap. Please listen to me!"
"There's no real danger going where Hank's taking us. He knows that part of the swamp as we know the city streets. If we find fingerprints on that boat that match those you took, we have the key to the whole situation -- "
"But Ruth, wait! I could drive down in about three hours."
"Then it would be too late to go into the swamp and get back before dark. Sorry, Phil, but I just can't hold things up that long."
"You're a stubborn, bullheaded woman!" he exclaimed angrily.
She laughed. "Now don't flare up because you aren't here to be in on this. If you start down right away, you'll be here in time to go deeper into the swamp when we go after the spies -- if the fingerprints show we're on the right trail."
"You'll get yourself killed! Ruth, you mean too much to me to let you do this fool-hardy thing." Frustration, anger and fear were mingled in his tone.
"Don't worry about me," she exclaimed, beginning to feel riled at Phil's persistence. "You come right on down, and I'll tell Mom to put your name in the pot for supper. We'll be back by that time, and we can plan the next move. See you tonight."
"Wait a minute, Ruth, don't hang up," cried Phil urgently. "There's something I have to tell you."
"Oh -- any new developments there?"
"Plenty! Cosgrove was found murdered in the woods not far from Bush's Creek early this morning."
"Oh, Phil -- Miss Minnie's husband?"
"It seems she had real foundation for her anxiety that night."
"Was it murder -- or suicide?"
"Murder."
"But that hasn't anything to do with us -- Lisa?"
"I'm beginning to think it does. Now you see why I say you simply mustn't take any chances?"
"I'm not taking any chances on this," said Ruth stubbornly.
Phil's voice was angry when he spoke again. "I wish you were in our agency," he exclaimed. "I'd forbid you to go!"
His tone sparked the tinder of her temper, and she retorted, "Fortunately, I'm not. And I'm determined to go at once!" With that she hung up.
* * *
By two o'clock Ruth and Harry were back at the edge of the swamp. To expedite matters they had persuaded Hank to let a motorboat tow them into the swamp as far as it could go. Harry engaged Buck Cooper for this, a younger guide whom he had met on previous visits to the swamp. Buck released their line where a plant-clogged stream entered the canal. From there on only a pole boat could penetrate deeper into the jungle. Buck promised to be at the same spot at sundown to take them back.
As Hank moved their boat slowly upstream with his long, forked pole, and as the sound of the motorboat died in the distance, Ruth began to feel the awesome power of the swamp. Under different circumstances she could have reveled in its beauty. Ducks, cranes, and herons that had been frightened off by the sound of the motor-boat began to settle down in sight again.
From habit Hank talked softly in his liquid drawl, extolling the beauties of the swamp as they went along. "Used to be you could see deer most anytime you come up into the prairies, but so many of 'em got kilt off 'fore they passed the game laws they ain't so plentiful no more."
But there were still many alligators. Ruth saw several slither off mudbanks into the water at their approach. A huge bull gator shoved the boat to one side, giving Ruth quite a shock.
"They'll turn a boat over if there's a dog in it," said Hank. "They love dog meat."
The stream now skirted a vast swampy hammock where cypress, sweet gums, bays, oaks, and magnolias interlocked branches. Bamboo, scuppernong, and many other vines made a tangle of the tree branches.
Ruth's pulse tripled when she glimsed an eagles' nest in a half-dead pine on the edge of the prairie. But she soon realized it was not the same one she had seen from the air. This was a lone pine among cypresses. The other nest had been in a group of three pines.
A few late-blooming bays and magnolias filled the air with a heady fragrance, mingled with the damp, mossy odors of swamp earth never touched by sunlight. The trees were vibrant with bird songs. This constant symphonic hum of the swamp was pierced now and then by sharp staccato notes of alarmed birds caught by some swamp enemy.
Surely there was no more beautiful place in the world; yet Ruth could understand how all this could become horrible to one imprisoned here without means of escape. If she were dropped down a hundred yards inside that shadowy jungle, she might be hours or days finding her way out.
Once they saw a black bear, standing on its hind legs, feeding on wild grapes. On the prairie side of the stream a water moccasin slithered off a mudbank directly in front of them.
She and Harry confined their comments to the passing scene, not wanting to reveal to Hank the real purpose of their trip. Eventually their guide left the edge of the prairie and entered the cypress swamp.
"This is whar I come fer my cypress knees," he told them.
Black water stood around the swollen lower trunks of the giant trees, and between the tall timbers were new shoots, the cypress knees. Only an experienced swamp guide would have steered a course so unerringly through that labyrinth as Hank did.
Eventually, the boat emerged into the clear-cut stream bordered by low-growing bays and palmettos, allowing glimpses of the sky again. Suddenly old Hank lifted his head and held his pole poised. Then, without a word, he shoved the boat under the overhanging boughs of a bay. Ruth and Harry exchanged alarmed glances as they ducked.
"Wait here -- don't talk," Hank warned in a hoarse whisper.
He stepped from the boat to the cushiony bank. Ruth could see the trembling earth give under his weight, the small bushes sway. A moment later Hank was out of sight.
By now Ruth and Harry were covered with a swarm of mosquitoes. Harry broke a couple of bay boughs to help them fight off the insects. Ruth was thankful for the khaki trousers and heavy boots protecting her lower limbs. And a consolation was that these were not disease-bearing mosquitoes. In fact, the swamp was considered one of the healthiest places in south Georgia.
If Hank had heard someone farther upstream, he was certainly taking his time to find who it was. Ruth experienced a momentary panic, wondering how they would ever get out of the swamp if anything happened to Hank.
Suddenly, without warning, Hank's head poked through the bay boughs. His beady brown eyes were sharp with excitement.
"If you want to see if this is your man, come with me," he directed. "He's loadin' the boat again. Just gone back fer another load."
"I can't believe it," whispered Ruth, suddenly in a fever of excitement. She had long dreamed of something like this, but now that she was face to face with it, cold chills ran down her spine. If this man was really connected with the kidnapers, she knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot all three of them if he found them spying on him.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Hank and Harry broke their way through the tangle of vines and shrubbery. Ruth followed, feeling squeamish and insecure on the soft, trembling earth. About a hundred yards from the boat Hank lifted his hairy hand, bringing them to a halt. He made an opening in the vines through which they could see a long, narrow, flat-bottomed boat pulled slightly up on the bank to facilitate loading. There was one large cardboard box already in it. Even as they watched, a tall man emerged from the jungle, carrying another box on his shoulders.
Ruth had a fairly good look at his grim face, with its hard-set mouth and prominent nose. She was certain she had never seen him before. But he was tall and powerful, as Nobby had said the man was who had taken Lisa away. There was only a possibility, of course, that he was the same. He could be an entirely innocent party taking supplies to some nature-loving friend camping deeper in the swamp.
The man stored his second box in the boat and turned back to retrace his steps, obviously for more supplies. All hope of getting fingerprints off the paddle or pole was gone now, but there might be time during his absence to look in those boxes.
"I'm going to see what he has in those boxes," Ruth stated.
"You're crazy!" retorted Harry. "He could come back any minute and find you."
"Don't know no better way to find out what he's up to," whispered Hank, who had his share of curiosity in the matter.
"According to the time he took going before, I could have a look before he gets back," Ruth persisted stubbornly.
"OK, then -- if you'll stick your head in a noose, I'll have to, too," grumbled Harry, pushing ahead of her.
"I'll go down the creek apiece and watch fer him," Hank suggested. "I'll give a cardinal's call if'n I see him comin'."
They stepped in the man's tracks, already oozing with water.
"Maybe we'd better not get into the boat," warned Ruth. "He may notice the mud."
The stream was shallow, and with their heavy boots, they could wade in it over to the boat. They bent over the cartons. Harry went into one box while Ruth untied the cord binding up the other. Both cartons were of the type generally discarded in supermarkets. On the top of one Ruth found a bundle of mosquito netting. She pressed her hand on it and realized there were heavier things underneath. Pushing the netting aside, she found canned goods. Her hands were shaking as she lifted out a small can of pears, marked "Unsweetened." There were several of these cans. Farther down were more cans of dietetic foods and a box of lump sugar. This added to her certainty that these supplies were destined for Gus Stuben; victims of diabetes were always warned to carry around hard candy or lump sugar in case of an overdose of insulin.
"No use looking any further, Harry. This is our man," she stated.
"Why are you sure? Nothing but decaffeinated coffee and canned milk here."
But while he spoke, Ruth didn't listen. She was too busy formulating a plan. Then she interrupted Harry, offering him her latest scheme.
"I think there's some sort of supply dump here," she said seriously. "I think the spies are living somewhere deeper in the jungle. And that must be where they're keeping poor Lisa. But first of all, I'd like to do some looking around here. Jetty told me about a woman named Maribeth who is supposed to live somewhere near here in this part of the swamp. He mentioned something about her rejecting society to live on her own, and hunters and fishermen are said to have seen her on occasion. If we can find her, then maybe she'll be able to tell us where the spies are hiding out. Otherwise, we'll have to follow this guy we just discovered back to the lair. You wait here. If anything goes wrong, just whistle."
Before Harry could argue against Ruth's plan, she took off, gliding slowly through the underbrush. Her adrenaline was really flowing and she did feel a little scared. But she knew she had to keep going or they would never rescue Lisa.
As she followed the man's footsteps back to where they had come from, she discovered a small house tucked away in a grove of trees. Taking a deep breath and then letting it out slowly, she made her way to the side of the little house where she saw a small window.
Pushing tree branches away from her face, she then gripped the edge of the window sill and peered in. At first, she heard rude grunting noises from inside the house. And when her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness inside the small shack, she saw something that affected her in the strangest way.
There was a woman kneeling on, the floor, sucking on a man's hard penis. Ruth could tell that the man was definitely the same one they had seen loading up the supplies. And she assumed the woman was the legendary swamp lady Maribeth.
At any other time, Ruth would have been shocked beyond belief. But somehow, the sight of the woman giving such a frantic blowjob excited her. The act seemed so primitive, yet so natural. It was obvious both Maribeth and the spy were enjoying themselves. And Ruth found herself flooded with mixed emotions.
She peered more intently through the window to watch more closely what was going on inside the rundown shack. The big man was gripping Maribeth's hair, forcing her to remain fastened to his crotch. But from the way the woman was sucking and slurping, it didn't appear that she needed to be forced.
When the man started groaning and bucking his hips back and forth, the swamp woman reached between his legs and began massaging his testicles, trying` to work his jism up to the boiling point. The harder the man fucked into her face, the harder she struggled to gobble on his cockshaft while kneading his wrinkled ball-sac.
When it appeared that the man was about to shoot his load into Maribeth's face, she removed her mouth, trailing strands of spittle across her cheeks and chin, and grabbed the base of his prick tightly between her thumb and forefinger. Then she pulled him to the far side of the room like she was leading a leashed animal. Flopping down on her back onto a dilapidated cot, she spread her legs wide and motioned for the big man to start fucking her. Letting go of his penis, she reached down to spread her labia wide, revealing the moist pink flesh of her pussy-hole.
Ruth gasped at the sight. It seemed Maribeth was aiming her cunt right at her. And then the view of the swamp woman's pussy was obscured as the man moved into place between her legs. Ruth was then treated to the sight of a huge cock sliding in and out of a warm, wet vagina. She noticed that the man's testicles had drawn up tight in their sac, and she could tell that it wouldn't be long before those balls unloaded their load of hot semen.
Furiously, the highly aroused couple thrashed atop the cot, rocking from side to side and up and down in a frantic fucking motion. Maribeth circled his waist with her legs, trying her best to remain locked onto his body, trying to wring every ounce of pleasure out of the big man's hard cock.
Then, in one highly charged moment, the two of them moaned out their pleasures as the man unleashed his semen.
While Maribeth remained sprawled out on the cot, trying to catch her breath, the man zipped up his pants and cleaned himself off a bit. It appeared he was about to leave, so Ruth let go of the windowsill and made her way back to where Harry was waiting. She had become so engrossed in watching the two people fuck that she had forgotten the seriousness of her business there.
There was no time to keep in the original tracks as she hurried back. Prickles of fear stabbed Ruth all over. Then she almost ran into Harry. Surprised, he caught her hand and fairly dragged her under the shelter of a thick scuppernon vine. There was no time to make it back to the boat.
Panting with excitement, Ruth could scarcely breathe as she heard the man sloshing through the underbrush. When she got the courage to look toward the boat, she was relieved to find he seemed unaware of any intrusion, probably still thinking about his recent ecstasy. He then put a third carton at the opposite end of the boat and stepped in, poling upstream.
He passed within fifty feet of where she and Harry crouched. She stared hard at him, trying to impress every line of his face on her memory. His neck, jaw and lower face were very heavy. His receding hair accentuated the sloping line of his forehead. Any hope she might have had that Lisa would be dealt with gently in return for the service they were obviously forcing her to render vanished at the sight of this hard man.
They waited, with bated breath, until he had passed. At one time he couldn't have been more than two pole lengths' distance from where their boat lay under the over-hanging boughs of the trees. After he turned a bend in the stream Hank joined them, and they returned to their boat. Ruth's mind had been leaping ahead while they waited.
"He's our man, all right. We must follow him," she stated. "We've got to find out where he's taking those supplies."
"Ruth, do you realize none. of our lives would be worth two cents if he caught us? And how can you be so sure he's one of the gang?"
"The supplies he had in those cartons are for a diabetic. And Gus Stuben's a diabetic. And wherever Stuben is, I'm sure we'll find Lisa.
"A woman?" exclaimed Hank. "You mean you're huntin' a woman in this here swamp?"
"That's right, Hank. My best friend's been kidnaped. If I'm not terribly mistaken, that man's taking supplies to the diabetic man I believe Lisa's being forced to nurse. We're practically certain he's a Communist spy."
Hank's reddish-brown eyes seemed to light up as from a burning fire within. "Then what are we waitin' for?" he grunted. "Them Communists shot down my boy. I'd ruther trap one o' them skunks than to kill all the rattlers in 'Fenokee."
Ruth and Harry exchanged glances, relieved that Hank was willing to help all he could.
"That young woman been missin' long?" asked Hank when he had pushed the boat out of hiding into the stream.
"Almost a week," replied Ruth, and gave him enough of the highlights of the case to further enlist his cooperation.
He was curious to know how Ruth had ever thought of looking in the swamp. When she told him about the scrap of the folder she had found, the clothes she believed had been bought for Lisa, and the bird talk over the ham radio, he paused to glance at her in new appreciation.
"Reckon I ain't never run across a woman like you -- thinkin' thataway like a man," he said, meaning it wholly as a compliment.
"I try to think like a detective -- male or female," she retorted.
Harry was uneasily watching the stream ahead. "If you had another pole, I could help and we'd move faster," he suggested. "I'm afraid we'll lose sight of him."
"Ain't but one way he can go, less'n he comes back," stated Hank, unperturbed. "And I reckon he don't aim to do that yet."
Soon they rounded the wooded point beyond which the boatman had vanished. Hank took the turn cautiously, peering ahead, but no one was in sight. Beyond that point they left the prairie behind and found dense jungle on both sides of the stream.
"Could he have already gone ashore somewhere?" asked Ruth.
"Nope," replied Hank. "Up heah's the densest swamp anywhere in 'Fenokee. Couldn't no outsider ever find his way through heah 'cept on open water."
Hank hugged the overhanging shrubbery when they took the next bend in the winding stream. When Ruth still expressed fear, Hank pointed at the sky.
"See them ducks," he said. "They took wing when that boat come near."
The jungle on their left was so dense that not a ray of the lowering sun filtered through. It was almost like looking into a black curtain. Twice they saw huge serpents coiled around overhanging branches. At another point wild hogs were rooting in the muck. Harry pointed out a bobcat on a tree limb overhead, waiting to spring on one of the pigs. They had just passed when there was a thudding sound, followed by the death squeal of a caught pig.
"Got his supper," grunted Hank.
"Will they attack people?" asked Ruth, for every new danger of the swamp suggested added risk for Lisa should she attempt escape.
"No'm -- not often -- less they're real hongry or a man tries to take their kill."
Hank, accustomed to trying to keep tourists informed about the interesting features of the swamp, kept up a running stream of comment in his soft drawl.
A short time later, Ruth decided they should split up in order to cover more ground. She would go one way and Harry and Hank would travel in another. Harry agreed reluctantly, a little intimidated by his sister's determined tone of voice.
After Ruth had been alone for a short time, she heard what sounded like a duck call. But upon listening closer, she figured out that it wasn't a duck call at all, but a human voice imitating one. She hurried on in the direction of the call, hoping to locate the hideout. She was thankful for the frog croaking, the owl hooting and the din of the insects that covered her movements through the underbrush.
It wasn't long before she came across some fresh footprints. And then she caught a brief glimpse of a man passing by a row of trees just ahead of her. She stopped short, trying to hide, while the man passed by. Luckily, he didn't see her.
She then followed him until she saw a small log cabin just ahead. She stopped and waited for the man to go inside. Then she made her way forward.
Finding a window on the side of the cabin, she peered inside. And she was relieved to see Lisa standing there cleaning up some dishes in the sink. Then Ruth had to cling close to the side of the house, trying to keep out of sight, because that same man had decided to leave all of a sudden.
After he had left, Ruth scanned the house for any sign of more spies. Then she felt it was safe to tap on the window to gain Lisa's attention.
Lisa almost dropped the dish she had been scrubbing when she saw her friend Ruth. Ruth waved her arm and motioned for Lisa to come outside. And Lisa did just that, running out through the doorway.
When they were together, they hugged and sobbed, happy to be reunited. Then Ruth told Lisa that they had to get away quickly to meet Harry and Hank at a prearranged spot. They didn't have a moment to lose.
Finally, together with the two men, Lisa began crying. But Ruth managed to get the story out of her anyway. It seemed that Stuben was the ringleader of a huge ring of spies operating in the South. He used a ham radio which was in the back of the cabin. Lisa said that he continually used bird-watching terminology as a cover for his activities. She said that he had an elaborate code set up with the names of birds for his various Communist agents.
All the puzzle pieces seemed to be falling into place for Ruth, and she felt extremely satisfied at the success of her first detective adventure. But then she realized that they weren't out of it yet, not by a longshot.
Waiting for nightfall, they planned to charge the cabin and capture the spies. Lisa said Stuben was in no shape to fight, and the rest of his cohorts were not as tough as they looked. And Lisa was right, for Hank and Harry had no trouble subduing them. Hank even took special pride in knocking two of the spies unconscious with an old section of a tree branch.
After the spies and Stuben were secured, Ruth got on the ham radio and called Jerry. He then notified Phil and the sheriff. Not long thereafter, the spies were taken into custody. And Ruth and Phil shared an especially tender reunion.
* * *
Later, everyone gathered at the Tards' to celebrate. Hugh and Lisa were sitting close together on the couch, smiling contentedly as if they knew something the others didn't.
"Well, with things so well cleared up, Lisa," Hugh said, "there seems no reason why we shouldn't go ahead with our wedding plans for next week."
"And all those invitations still lying on the table in our living room," Lisa moaned cheerfully.
"It all sounds interesting," said Phil, an impish twinkle coming into his eyes. "Say, Ruth, why don't we make it a double wedding?"
She couldn't let him know she thought he was serious even though he had said it jokingly. I wouldn't have time for a wedding next week," she retorted lightly. "Jerry and I have a big job ahead setting up our detective agency."
"Why, Ruth!" exclaimed her brother, but she saw a spark ignite in his eyes at the very suggestion of getting back into his old work.
"We haven't had time to discuss it," she went on happily, "but now that I've proven my ability as a detective, I'm sure we'll have no trouble getting enough work to make a go of it."
"But, Ruth -- me?" Jerry asked incredulously.
"Sure! You do the brainwork and I'll do the legwork. You wouldn't want me to have to work for old J. B. Humphries, would you?"
Phil laughed in spite of her rebuff of his lightly made proposal. "You'll get a kick out of hearing, Ruth, that J. B. said that maybe he had made a mistake in turning you down."
Ruth sparked again. "I wouldn't work for that man if he were the last -- "
"I know," Phil interrupted. "But you shouldn't take revenge on me because be turned you down."
This brought laughter from all around the table. And through the laughter Phil added: "But I give all of you fair warning. I'm no quitter."
Lisa, still thinking of her own wedding, said, "I'm extending an invitation now to all of you to our wedding. And there's another person I want you to be sure to bring."
"Who's that?" he asked.
"Old Hank. I guess none of us would be here now but for old Hank, who knew how to get through the swamp."
While everyone laughed again, Ruth sought out Phil's eyes and smiled at him. Her expression was one of promise, and Phil smiled back richly. He knew there was going to be a double wedding after all.