by Clark Howard
Abby, Abby, Abby. Simple, dumb little bitch—
His smile dissolved then and he saw himself frowning. Never should have let myself get mixed up with her, he thought. No character, that was her trouble. No class. No style. Just a common little cunt, that’s all she ever really was. And not a very clean one, at that. He snorted aloud. Those showers they used to take together; she thought they were so romantic, so close and personal. Sure, sure. A waste of good sex time, that’s all those fucking showers were; but he had to find some way to get her to wash, he couldn’t get close to her otherwise, she had such a stink about her sometimes—
He turned sideways and studied himself in the mirror, sucking his momentarily peaceful stomach in and throwing his shoulders back. He didn’t look so bad, after all. A little extra flab here and there, but two or three weeks of handball would take care of that. Sure. A little exercise, trim up the old mustache, throw on a four-hundred-dollar suit and he’d be ready for any action that shook her ass at him. He could still hold his own with the best studs in the business. Hell, how many times had he thrown a quick one into little Abby and then gone home to do the same to his wife? Of course, that was awhile back, when his wife had still been giving him some, but still—
His slack face grew thoughtful as he momentarily concentrated on his wife. How long had it been now since he had wallowed on the plush body of Jennifer Jordan Keyes? A year? Longer, maybe? He couldn’t even remember. How had it come about anyway, their drifting apart like that, starting to use separate bedrooms? She must have initiated it; he never would have. Do you suppose, he thought, that she could have found out about him and Abby? Maybe even that he had brought the cunt home and laid her right in the same bed he shared with Jennifer?
No, no, hell no, he dismissed the thought. He had been too clever about Abby; no one could have known, least of all Jennifer. It must have been something else, something closer to her. The kid, maybe; Lorna. Yes, that could have been it. Maybe Jennifer noticed how he played around with her in the pool when she was home for the summer. He had tried to be subtle about it; just a father having a little family fun with his stepdaughter; but sometimes he lost control of himself: grabbing her around the legs under the water, he’d wanted to tear her swimsuit off and bite into her until she screamed—
So maybe that was it; maybe Jennifer had caught on and become jealous, so to teach him a lesson she had taken a bedroom of her own. Well, she had just done herself out of a regular screwing if that was so, because it sure as hell hadn’t worked any hardship on him; old Walt got his whenever he wanted it, from one source or another, rain or shine.
He chuckled at himself in the mirror again and unbuckled his belt and removed his trousers and shorts. He rubbed his fingertips lightly through the heavy growth of pubic hair that grew thickly up his stomach. Yes, sir, he thought warmly, admiring his penis in the mirror, old Walt’ll never go hungry, not with his equipment. Hung like a horse, that was what Abby had said about him once when they were in the shower and she was washing him—
Ah, Abby. Abby, Abby, Abby. So she was in some kind of a mental hospital now, eh? Well, that was probably where she belonged, goddamned weak cunt, not a bone in her spine. Jesus, that last night he had tried to see her she had really blown her top: yelling and screaming and breaking things. Brother, he had gotten the hell away from there that night. Good thing, too; all he needed was to be publicly involved with some crazy cunt creating a disturbance. That would look just fine in the newspapers. Stupid little bitch, a padded cell was just where she belonged—
Giving his naked reflection a final glance of approval, Keyes stepped away from his discarded clothing and went back into the bedroom. The place, as usual, was spotless: magazines stacked neatly on a table next to the lounge chair, both daily newspapers folded precisely on top of the television set, furniture dusted and shiny. No matter how untidy he left the room when he was wheeled in for his nightly session with the Examiner and his cohorts, it was always immaculate when he was returned to it. He wondered who cleaned it up every night. That girl, maybe—
A vision of her came into his mind and he held it there while he walked over to the bed and lay down. Nice, he thought, examining his mental picture of her, very nice. He remembered how she had walked past him that first night in the Blue Room, her trim young body moving fluidly with each step; and the times he had seen her sitting at the desk at the foot of the stairs just outside the Blue Room’s door, always dressed in a skirt that clung tautly to her full young hips, a sweater that molded precisely to her splendid young breasts—
A flush of warmth coursed through him and he felt the old familiar tightness in his groin. He raised his head slightly and looked down the length of his naked body and watched with lustful fascination as his organ rose to its erect state.
Suppose, he thought hungrily, suppose she came in here right now and saw me lying here like this. Suppose she just walked right up to the bed and unbuttoned that sweater and had nothing on underneath and leaned over—
The vision of her suddenly disappeared and was replaced by an image of the Examiner. Keyes frowned and blinked his eyes several times to drive the Examiner away and bring back the girl.
—and put her hand on him and began fondling him with one hand while she unzipped her skirt with the other—
Again she vanished, in an instant, without preliminary; and again an image of the piercing-eyed Examiner focused sharply in her place. Goddamn it, Keyes muttered. He closed his eyes tightly and shook his head several times until he was able to imagine the girl again.
—skirt and nylon panties slipping back over her bent body and down her firm white thighs leaving her naked and exposed for his eyes and hands and mouth—
Then she dissolved a third time and the Examiner’s emotionless features loomed over him and the flat, immovable gaze of the man’s eyes looked down on his nakedness.
“Get out, goddamn you,” Keyes said aloud. He closed his eyes tightly and covered the closed lids with both hands. “Get out, get away, I don’t want you, I want the cunt—”
The face refused to leave, it hovered over him like a cloud, soft and vaguely outlined, yet somehow clearly visible and terribly, dreadfully threatening.
Keyes removed his hands and opened his eyes. He saw the Examiner’s lips part and form a silent word, then another. The finely cut mouth moved slowly, slowly, slowly, forming first the one word, then the other, the same two words over and over and over again—
Castrate him‘
“Oh, no—!” Keyes screamed in terror. “No—oh, no—no—!” He scrambled to a sitting position on the bed, pushing himself against the headboard in mortal fear, drawing his knees up close and with both hands covering protectively a now shriveled, wrinkled, totally impotent penis.
“No—no—no” he continued to moan in a futile attempt to ward off the icicles of dread that froze the groin beneath his hands. “No—no—no—”
Through the long night he moaned.
Twenty One
Devlin’s mind, plagued by thoughts of both Jennifer Jordan and Evelyn Lund, had cast his brooding features into a dark, dangerous scowl by the time he parked his car across the street from Todd Holt’s apartment building. It was a blacker mood than he had been in for a long time; an angry black mood, brought to the surface by a determination, reached only minutes before, to in some way compel Todd Holt to help him solve the mystery of Keyes’ disappearance.
He was certain that he could do it. By sheer force of will, he could do it. He was much stronger than Todd; stronger of character, of personality, of mind. By the use of ruthless, relentless perserverence he could invoke a personal control over Todd, penetrate his mind, and tear away any barriers Todd had erected between what he knew and what Devlin wanted to know. It would be no contest, really; in a clash of minds, Devlin could reduce the younger man to helplessness.
But it would be a dirty piece of work—because Todd was his friend.
Devlin silently cursed his decision
to become involved in this bloody goddamned case in the first place. He snatched the ignition keys from their switch and reached to open the door. As he did, his hand froze, his whole body froze, and his eyes locked on the entrance to Todd’s apartment building. Just emerging from the double doors, stepping down the single step to the sidewalk, was a slight, frail-looking little man, elderly, somewhat distinguished in his bearing and very neatly dressed. Even to the white carnation in his lapel—
Judge Wilke.
The name, the sight of him, exploded in Devlin’s mind, throwing his previous thoughts asunder, instantly creating new ones.
Judge Harold Wilke. Todd’s apartment building. A coincidence? Visiting someone eelse, not Todd? Possibly. Or perhaps visiting Todd on a purely social basis? Possibly, though not very likely; did Todd even know the judge? He had never mentioned to Devlin that he knew him. But then, he had never mentioned other acquaintances either: Dr. Milton Price and his friend Barry Chace, for instance—
A deep frown creased Devlin’s forehead. The whole affair was beginning to reek oddly of some grotesque underground movement that was spreading to all the environs of society: a highly regarded psychiatrist, Dr. Fox; a well-known minister, Reverend O’Hara, and a young investigator, Todd Holt, who worked very close to the State Supreme Court; all three very definitely connected in some way with the girl in the state hospital, Abby Daniels, and her former employer, J. Walter Keyes. And two others, Dr. Price, the psychologist, and Barry Chace, the statistician, possibly, even probably, also involved.
And now Judge Harold Wilke, a veritable paragon of law and justice, almost a legend in modern jurisprudence—also possibly involved!
Fantastic, Devlin thought, using the word again and again to counter the near unbelievable possibilities being conjured up in his mind. Gone now was the black mood and the anger that had accompanied it. In its place was a sudden realization that if a man like Judge Wilke was involved in this—this movement or whatever it was, that it represented a serious threat to the structure of law and justice of which Wilke was a representative.
But why, he had to wonder, would men like these trouble themselves with scum like Keyes? A person involved in illicit sex, illegal abortions and that kind of dirty business, was usually left up to men of Devlin’s calling: hunters, trackers of evil, bloodhounds of justice. Of what concern could a person like Keyes be to these men of law, medicine, religion and science?
From where Devlin now sat, it was unfathomable. Yet there had to be an answer: a logical, rational, understandable answer.
That answer, he was certain, was somewhere within Todd Holt.
Devlin waited in his car until Judge Wilke had rounded the corner, then got out and crossed the street. Entering Todd’s building, he avoided the desk because he did not want to be announced, and climbed the fire stairs to the fourth floor. Todd’s apartment was midway along the hall. Devlin pressed the buzzer.
When he opened the door, Todd Holt’s young face collapsed in surprise.
“Hello, Todd,” Devlin said in a voice devoid of expression.
“Dev—? What are you doing here?”
“I thought we could have a talk. May I come in?”
“Sure.” Todd was recovering quickly; his jaw began to tighten as he held the door open. “Sure. Come in. ”
Devlin stepped into the small living room of the little bachelor apartment, and there found to his own surprise: Janet Sundean.
“Hello, Dev,” she said in a softly guarded feminine voice. She was sitting in a corner of Todd’s couch, dressed in a becoming beige sweater and tweed skirt, her stockinged feet curled up under her.
“Hello, Janet.” Devlin turned to Todd, who was closing the door behind him. “Sorry to barge in like this, Todd, I didn’t know you had company. I saw Judge Wilke on the way in; he didn’t mention Jan being here.”
Todd met Devlin’s eyes for the briefest of instances but he said nothing, merely ignored the remark and walked past Devlin to the couch where Jan sat. For Devlin, it was enough to convince him that the judge had been there.
“Would you like a drink, Dev?” Janet asked, getting up and padding in her stockinged feet into a tiny Pullman kitchen much like Devlin’s own.
“Sure. Whatever you two are having.” Devlin stood next to a large upholstered chair, one hand resting lightly on its back, the other shoved casually into a coat pocket. He kept his eyes calmly on Todd Holt until the younger man began to grow uneasy.
“Why don’t you sit down?” Todd said finally. “You’ve never had to be asked before.”
“I’ve never had occasion to visit you in a semi-professional capacity before,” Devlin countered easily. He stepped in front of the chair and lowered himself into it. Again Todd chose to ignore Devlin’s words. Devlin, watching him, decided that the job of getting Todd to confide in him was going to be far more difficult than he had imagined; first, because Todd knew what he had in mind and was already steeling himself for it, and secondly, because Janet Sundean was there to give him moral support. He wondered briefly if Janet knew anything about what was going on; he decided that she probably did, else Todd would not have allowed her to be present during Judge Wilke’s visit.
While he was thinking about her, Janet returned with a tray of fresh drinks. She handed one to Devlin, then bent to put the other two on a coffee table in front of the couch. Devlin admired her trim young legs as she leaned over, her back to him; but then he was reminded of Evelyn Lund, and the thought disturbed him so he glanced away until Janet sat down. He looked back just as she picked up her drink.
“How about truth and honesty among friends,” Devlin suggested. He leaned forward to touch Janet’s glass with his own, then extended it toward Todd. The young man’s eyes narrowed for an instant, then a slight smile crept over his lips and he too leaned forward to touch glasses.
“To truth and honesty,” he said, “among loyal friends.”
They drank and then Devlin said, “There are no friends except loyal friends.”
“I’m glad you agree,” Todd said. He took a second, long swallow and put down his glass. “What was it you wanted to talk about?”
“I think you know, Todd. Do you want to discuss it in front of Janet?”
“Janet is the woman I love and am going to marry,” Todd said matter-of-factly. “I have no secrets from her and never intend to have.”
“I take that to mean,” Devlin said, suddenly switching his gaze to Janet, “that she already knows about your involvement with Dr. Fox and Reverend O’Hara—”
Janet Sundean’s throat expanded slightly as, despite the drink she had just sipped, she swallowed dryly. Devlin noted the movement and was further convinced.
“—and Judge Wilke,” he continued quickly, “and the others.”
“What others?” Todd challenged.
“Dr. Price,” Devlin bluffed. “And Barry Chace.”
“A nice assortment of names,” Todd complimented. “What do you intend to do with them?”
“Find out why they abducted J. Walter Keyes.”
“Can you prove they did?”
“No, but you can.”
Todd forced a smile. “Can you prove that?”
“I can prove that you visited Abigail Daniels at the state hospital.”
“Look,” Todd said, leaning forward, “I can come up with a dozen legitimate reasons for having seen that girl and you know it. I can say I had an anonymous tip telling me that she had information about an investigation I was conducting for the Supreme Court—”
“Is that why you identified yourself as Dr. Todd Holt?”
“Who says I did,” Todd countered. “That could have been an error on the part of some hospital clerk.” He shook his head emphatically. “You’ve got nothing, Dev, and you might as well face it. Nothing but a lot of names you can’t do anything with.”
Devlin sighed heavily and reached for his drink. He took a long swallow and let the silence that had fallen over the room remain long enough fo
r him to light a cigarette. Then he turned to Janet.
“You know, don’t you, that I really don’t give a damn about this person Keyes? I’m trying to help him,” he pointed a finger at Todd.
“I know, Dev,” she answered quietly, casting her glance downward.
“Did it ever occur to you,” Todd said, “that I just might not need any help? That I might know exactly what I’m doing? And that what I’m doing might be right?”
“If that’s so,” Devlin said quietly, “then why can’t you tell me about it?”
“Because it doesn’t concern you.”
“As long as Keyes is involved, it does concern me. I’m the one the law has sent to find him.”
“The law!” Todd snorted in disgust. He snatched up his drink again.
“What have you got against the law all of a sudden?” Devlin demanded, his irritation mounting. “I can remember when you swore by it.”
“Yes, so can I. But that was before I got close enough to it to see how weak it’s become. The law today is only a shell of what it was yesterday, and tomorrow it will be an even weaker shell of what it is today.” He stood up and walked around behind the couch. “The law has become weak, Dev, and you,” he leveled an accusing finger at Devlin, “—you—are a perfect example of that weakness. The law sends you to find Keyes, to rescue him, to protect him, and you blindly follow instructions and try to do just that—when by everything right and good in the world both you and the law should be trying to rid the earth of animals like him!”
“How can we,” Devlin asked, “if you won’t give us the chance?”
“Even if we did give you the chance, there’s nothing you could do!” Todd slammed a closed fist against the back of the couch. “Don’t you see, that’s exactly my point. If the law had Keyes it wouldn’t be able to convict him! He has money and influence; he’d have high-powered lawyers; witnesses would be intimidated or bought off; he would get out of it, Dev, because the law is too weak to do anything about him. And he would go right back to preying on the weak and ruining helpless people’s lives just as he’s always done.”
