Little Tramp (Prologue Crime)

by Gil Brewer

  Again and again Gary rose to his knees, unable to see or think now. Kryder waited until he was half up, then let one go with all his might. Gary arched backward against the ground and lay still, staring at the swimming, star-studded sky.

  “Oughta kill you now,” Kryder said, trying to catch his breath, leaning against the car.

  Gary heard him talk on, heard him cursing Doll, but he could not move. Warm, sticky blood frothed in his mouth, soaked his shirt. He tried to lift his arm, tried to roll over and rise, but the ground slanted first this way, then the other. He sprawled out flat, lying in a sheath of pain. His breath scalded his throat. Tiny chips of gritty teeth coated his bitten, bleeding tongue.

  “Gary—Gary—” Doll said.

  “He’ll come around,” Kryder said, breathing heavily up there in the spinning night. “Let the poor bastard be.”

  Gary felt hands touch him and blinked his eyes, trying to see.

  “Gary, are you all right?”

  “Sure.”

  Doll leaned down and he felt her lips touch his face. Then she was suddenly dragged away from him and he saw Kryder holding her off. He tried again to stand, and this time he gained his knees.

  Reeling, half up, he wondered why Kryder hadn’t killed him. Then he realized it must be because someone other than Kryder had to keep contact with Harper regarding the ransom money. It seemed wildly humorous right then, and he burst into laughter, blood spewing from his lips. The kidnapping was both the life and the death of him.

  “We won’t try that again, eh?” Kryder said.

  Gary got to his feet, leaned back against the car, bracing himself against the rolling in his head. He knew the ground was solid, yet it seemed to slant up and down like the deck of a ship in a heavy sea.

  “Come on,” Kryder said. “Let’s get inside.”

  Gary felt a hand grab his arm, hurl him roughly out across the lawn. He’d never felt more horrible. Not only had he missed his chance, but Doll had seen him brutally beaten.

  He lurched against the side of the cabin, scraped along until he reached the front porch. He heard them walking close behind him.

  “Now, we’ll find out about you, honey,” Kryder said. “Didn’t know somebody else was mixed up in this, too.”

  Doll didn’t answer him.

  Gary opened the screen door, stepped out. His knees gave way and he smashed across the threshold. Slowly, he rose, and stumbled into the living room. Right then, he couldn’t think, but he heard Arlene speak.

  “God!” she said, watching him as he crossed the room and fell on the couch. He sat there, staring at her, and waited as Doll and Kryder entered.

  “Company for you,” Kryder said to Arlene. “Never a dull moment.” He shoved Doll at the girl, then came over to Gary. “What the hell were you doing outside?”

  “Looking at the moon.”

  “There’s no moon tonight.”

  “That’s right.” He swallowed a mouthful of blood and looked at Kryder. He knew then that somehow he was going to get him. He wanted to smash that smug face, wipe away that positive attitude.

  Doll sat on the couch beside him. “Gary, I’m sorry.” She was wearing a tan dress that clung tightly, with large hand-worked gold buttons down the front and a heavy gold belt around her waist. He felt her stir against him, saw through bleared eyes the wealth of black hair tumbing over her shoulders, and through the sweat and blood, he smelled the sweet, familiar fragrance.

  “It’s all right,” he said. “Not your fault.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Kryder said.

  “Who is he?” Doll whispered.

  “Just a guy who thinks he’s God,” Gary told her. “Relax, everything’s going to be all right. I’m glad you’re here.”

  “I had to come. I got to thinking about all the things you said, and then when I saw the papers—and late this afternoon it was on the radio. I—I guess I was wrong, wasn’t I?”

  He tried to grin at her. So far as he knew, nothing was broken, but he hurt plenty, here and there. The bleeding was beginning to stop. His head was clearing. He knew he’d ache like hell in a day or so.

  Arlene came across the room and stood in front of Doll. She put her hands on her hips. “So you’re Dolores.”

  Doll glanced at her, frowning.

  Gary said nothing. What use was there to try and explain now? He felt his face puffing up, and dull pains. His back was wrenched, the front of his shirt covered with drying blood.

  “And you’re Arlene, I take it,” Doll said. “Are you proud of what you’ve started?”

  “Come off it, honey,” Arlene said. “It’s a short drop.”

  Kryder stepped between them. “Let’s not fight yet. There’s a few things I’d like to find out.”

  Gary thrust himself to his feet, staggered into the bedroom. Doll hurried after him and he heard Arlene snicker softly and say something to Kryder. Kryder laughed. Gary went on into the bathroom and leaned above the sink, turned on the water. He looked at himself in the mirror, looked away. He was a mess.

  “Gary,” Doll said, stepping up beside him. “Who is that man?”

  He told her about Kryder and she listened silently, her eyes registering confusion as she slowly realized what had happened. “So the gun’s still in the glove compartment,” he finished. “Somehow, I’ve got to get to it. Unless she tells him about it.”

  “But how can you get it? You can’t take the chance. Not with him. Look what happened when you tried,”

  He shook his head. “I made a mistake, too. I reminded Arlene about that damned gun—I think she forgot about it. There’s no telling what that gal will do. I know it sounds crazy, but you don’t know that kid like I do.”

  “We won’t go into that. I saw her. That’s enough.” She touched his arm. “Gary, for God’s sake wash the blood off your face.”

  He grinned at her, thrust her away, began splashing in the sink. The water ran crimson. He did as careful a job as possible, but things were tender. After he’d toweled himself dry, he began to feel much better. He grinned again at Doll. The gash in his head no longer pained, but the skin was laid open badly. There was nothing he could do about that.

  He knew Doll was worried. Her eyes were touched with fear. She moved up to him and he took her in his arms, feeling mighty good that he was able to.

  “Doll? How’d you really happen to come out here?”

  “Like I said—and, about us, Gary—I’m sorry for how I acted. I didn’t know what the trouble was, and when you told me, I—well, you know what I thought.”

  Through the bathroom door, he saw Kryder’s shadow stark against the far bedroom wall. He released Doll.

  “You two come out here,” Kryder said.

  They went into the bedroom. He motioned with his head and strolled into the living room. Gary guided Doll out there after him.

  Arlene was seated in a rattan chair at the rear of the room, her gaze on Kryder. She did not look up as they entered and Gary saw the fixed stare and knew something had happened to her, that she was close to something that wouldn’t look good.

  Kryder slumped on the studio couch, glanced at Gary.

  “Damn near lost an eye, didn’t you?”

  Gary thought he heard something outside, and tensed.

  Kryder looked Doll over and grinned at her. “What are you fooling around with him for?”

  Doll said nothing.

  “Too bad I didn’t look you up,” he went on. “You’ve got something I like. Damn near did look you up, after I ran a line on your boy friend.” He stood up suddenly, stepped over to her, took hold of her wrists. She tried to draw away from him.

  “Just hold still,” he staid.

  “Gary?”

  “I said to hold still,” Kryder told her. “No use calling on your boy friend. He’s knocked out, honey.”

  “Please, let go of my arm!”

  “Something about you I go for,” Kryder said.

  Doll started to reply, but a
knock came at the porch screen door. Kryder released her, wheeled toward the door. The door opened and it was prefectly quiet.

  “Hello! Hello, there! Am I intruding?”

  A plump woman of sixty-odd, wearing a broken straw hat, carrying a basket, stepped into the room.

  “I’m your landlady,” the woman said. “I just dropped by for a minute. Brought you some mangoes.”

  ELEVEN

  ARLENE whispered, “I forgot about her.” She rose and hurried into the bedroom.

  Kryder moved swiftly toward the woman at the door, trying to shield the rest of the room.

  “Are you Mr. Black?”

  Kryder hesitated. “Mr. Black?”

  The woman frowned. She was wearing a red and orange print dress, her arms very brown and plump. Her straw hat, because of the nighttime, looked incongruous.

  “I’m Mary Lowell,” she insisted. “Where’s Mrs. Black? Perhaps she would—”

  Kryder kept trying to stand in front of her, but she was curious, her dark eyes flitting around the room, at Gary, at Doll, toward the bedroom door. Then she looked at Kryder again.

  “That Mrs. Black?” she said, eying Doll.

  “No.”

  “I see—then Mrs. Black went into the bedroom, there.” She smiled. “I see. Well—” She paused, held out the heavy basket of fruit. The round mangoes glowed yellowly.

  “Mangoes?”

  “She said she liked them, over the phone, when she rented this cabin. I told her I might stop by.”

  “I see.”

  “She said it was all right.” She held the basket with one hand and reached out, touched Kryder’s arm. Gary saw his back stiffen. “I like to meet the people who rent my cabins.”

  “Sure. I see.”

  “Of course, I’ll have to collect the rent. And you’ll have to pay me for all those groceries I bought for you.”

  “How much was that?”

  “Didn’t your wife—Oh, then you’re not—I think perhaps I’d better—”

  She watched Kryder.

  From the bedroom came a loud rasping noise. Steel screeched and Gary heard the tearing of screen. Kryder whirled and ran into the bedroom.

  Mary Lowell did not move. She stood holding her basket of mangoes, staring at the place where Kryder had been. Then she looked at Gary and frowned. She stepped back one pace.

  A loud smack reached them from the bedroom. There was a stumbling of feet and a crash. They could hear Kryder panting.

  “No!” Arlene said. “No, for God’s sake!” Her voice was a whisper, but it carried. Again there was a loud smack.

  “What’s that?” Mary Lowell said.

  Kryder came out of the bedroom. He stepped rapidly up to the woman and grinned at her.

  “You married, Mrs. Howell?” Kryder said calmly.

  She was worried, but trying to remain calm. Then abruptly she was calm. “Oh,” she said. “You and your wife—No, I’m not married.”

  “Then you don’t know how it is.”

  Gary and Doll hadn’t moved. Kryder looked at them angrily. Gary heard a loud scrabbling sound from the bedroom, and he wanted to warn Mary Lowell somehow, but there was no way. Kryder’s face became redder still.

  “Where do you live, Miss Lowell?” he said.

  “Up in—up in Tarpon Springs,” she said.

  Gary looked at her. Doll’s fingers gripped his arm and and he didn’t know what to do.

  “Thanks very much for the mangoes,” Kryder said.

  Arlene crawled out of the bedroom, along the floor, and looked at them. Kryder started to take the basket of mangoes, heard Arlene, turned, and the basket fell to the floor. Mangoes rolled yellowly and squashed. He stepped on one, cursing as it oozed underneath his foot. The woman took three awkward running steps toward Arlene, leaned down and looked at her. Arlene saw her and her eyes widened. She tried to come to her feet, trying to get back into the bedroom.

  The woman whirled in a clumsy crouch, stared at Kryder, then ran for the front door. Kryder lifted a large hand and squeezed his face, grimacing. He grabbed the woman, flung her at the couch. She tripped and fell down, sitting on the couch. She began weeping, watching him, the tears running down her fat, sunburned cheeks, the straw hat cocked on her graying hair,

  “She’s—she’s—” the woman said, staring at Kryder.

  Kryder slammed into the bedroom, grabbed Arlene and dragged her out. Gary took a step toward the woman, but Kryder snapped, “Just hold it. Sit down, you two. God damn it all!”

  He pushed Arlene at the rattan chair. She lay back, staring at the ceiling, breathing hard. A bead of blood glistened on her chin like a small ruby. “I thought she was gone,” she said. “I thought she’d gone.”

  “That’s the kidnaped girl!” the woman said. “I saw her picture in tonight’s paper.”

  Kryder paced up and down the room. Gary turned to Doll and said, “Sit down and take it easy.”

  Her eyes were pained. “What’s he going to do?” she whispered. When her hand touched his, it was cold.

  Kryder stared at them. The woman tried to get up.

  “Please,” Kryder said. “Sit down.”

  The woman’s jaw began jiggling as she watched Kryder.

  “Who—” she said.

  Gary leaned against the kitchen doorjamb. Kryder looked at Arlene and cursed her softly, and slowly, then sat on the studio couch beside the woman. He was obviously holding himself calm under pressure, and his face was streaked with gray lines.

  “You could be mistaken,” he said to her. His voice was soft and without conviction. He was just talking.

  The woman came off the couch, running toward the door. Kryder almost wearily leaped after her, grabbed her and led her back.

  “Please,” he said. There was a kind of agony in his voice now.

  The room became very still. Gary listened to the breathing. He suspected Kryder didn’t know what to do now. The woman was weeping steadily now, her eyes inflamed, and she made little squeaking sounds in her throat, like a cat. She was near hysteria.

  Gary wanted to help her, but there was nothing he could do. He knew how Doll felt. He wished there were some way to get Doll out of this, but the whole thing had gotten out of hand now. He saw the desperate play of emotions across the woman’s face and knew something was going to happen to her.

  “Well,” Kryder said. “You win, Miss Lowell. It’s a pity you came here, at a time like this. You say you saw this girl’s picture in the papers?”

  The woman didn’t answer him. She looked at Arlene, fat, pearly tears trembling on her cheeks. Her eyes began to show signs of wild confusion.

  “Do you live alone, Miss Lowell?”

  Kryder was speaking with great politeness. But she still didn’t answer him. Gary knew he was trying to find out about her; discover whether anybody knew she was here. He tried to think of some way to help her, but there was no damned way at all—there was nothing anybody could do. Kryder was working under terrific pressure now, and even he didn’t know what his next step might be.

  He turned to her. “You’d better answer, Miss Lowell.” His voice held an undertone of quiet anger, and the look he gave her must have frightened her still more.

  “Yes!” she blurted.

  “Well, that’s fine. That’s just dandy.” His face was expressionless.

  She pleaded with Gary. “What are you going to do? What are you going to do?” Her voice was tightened into into a screech. “I’ve got to get home, I tell you. I just came to collect the rent, see what kind of people you were. I just wanted to bring you some mangoes.” Her gaze turned to the squashed fruit on the floor. There must have been easily two dozen mangoes. The faint turpentine odor of them was spreading through the cabin. “They’re such good mangoes,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Kryder said. “Now, is there anybody worried about your being here?”

  She took her lower lip in her teeth, biting down hard.

  “Anybody know you’re here?”
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  Her eyes rolled in her head and she was suddenly hysterical. Her mouth opened and she fought up to her feet, gurgling noises in her throat.

  “Kidnapers!” she cried. “Kidnapers!”

  “Shut up!” Kryder told Miss Lowell.

  She struggled, scratching at him, panting. Her straw hat fell to the floor, and they mashed it underfoot. She wept and opened her mouth to scream. Kryder got his arms around her, holding her bucking figure, and clapped one hand over her mouth. She squealed in her throat, and it was a sick sound.

  He thrust her toward the bedroom, kneeing her. “All of you,” he said. “In the bedroom!”

  Nobody moved.

  He cramped one arm around the woman’s head, so her mouth was covered brutally by his forearm. She flailed like a spending fish. He drew the gun from his back pocket and pointed it at Gary, motioning with the barrel. “In the damned bedroom.”

  Arlene rose and limped through the door. Gary heard her fling herself across the bed. He took Doll’s arm and they moved past Kryder and the wildly struggling woman, into the bedroom. Kryder hauled Mary Lowell in, her feet scraping on the floor, her eyes rolling white and shocked above the blunt pressure of his arm.

  He got her into the room, kicked the door shut. A bed-lamp was lit, pale yellow light tossing weird shadows against the bare-boarded walls.

  “Now, Miss Lowell,” Kryder said. “Are you going to be quiet?”

  Gary noticed the strain in the man’s voice. He thrust Doll over to the far side of the bed and pushed her down. She sat stiffly, her eyes rounding with terror as she watched Kryder. The woman thrashed in his arms. He let go of her and she opened her mouth to scream. He grabbed her violently again, sweat coursing down his face as he softly cursed her.

  “Hand me that pillow,” he said to Arlene, gesturing with the gun muzzle toward the head of the bed.

  Arlene lay still, watching him, unmoving. He stepped over to her, wrinkled the corners of his eyes and whipped the gun across her chin. She cringed back into the bed, tears welling in her eyes. She grabbed the pillow and flung it at him. Gary stood up, moving toward him then, no longer able to even look on, knowing he had to stop the man. But Kryder knocked the pillow to the floor and pointed the gun at Gary.