"Real pretty!" Marge said softly, almost to herself.
Her china-blue eyes glittered as she stared at me, and the hollow cheeks dimpled as she puckered up her mouth.
"You know, Benny," she said rapidly, "he's just about the cutest thing I ever did see."
"Lay off!" he said sharply. "He's mine. Marge. Anyway, you don't know yet—not till Earl gets here."
"I know," she smiled thinly. "I got a feeling about that kind of thing—and Earl's my brother—remember?"
"We wait and see what he says first," Benny snapped, i with the sullen look back on his face. "So shut up, will 1 you. Marge?"
She shrugged her shoulders under the tight silk sheath and silendy mouthed a short but accurate description of the boy wonder. And all the time she just looked at me, like I was a rare painting she needed for her collection.
I smoked the cigarette down to the butt and was halfway through the second when Earl Harvey came into the office. The mouse-colored hair still fell down across his forehead, the thin hps were compressed into a tight line, and the cold gray eyes had an irritated expression as he i looked at me.
"He had his own keys, Mr. Harvey," Benny said po-htely, jangling them between his fingers. "I figure he's a real nosy guy who just don't learn."
"You're right about him not learning," Harvey said in a nasal whine. "How many times you got to tell him?"
"He's a punk," Benny sneered contemptuously. "He don't even carry a rod when he comes calling. It figures— like this morning he don't even try and stop me cuffing him around!"
Harvey walked around the desk, then slumped into the swivel chair and looked at me sourly.
"What was the idea, busting into my office?" he demanded.
"I was checking your ffies, Earl," I said easily. "Looking under 'B' for Blackmail, but maybe you keep that file at the bank?"
"I think you're crazy," he said evenly.
"If you want, I can be specific," I said. "Or should I wait until you've spelled it out for Benny's benefit?"
"Go on," Earl said curtly.
"I figured that Acapulco caper you pulled on Tybolt sure was original," I said. "It made me curious to find out the capers you pulled on Margot Lynn and Donna Alberta."
"I don't know what you're talking about," he snapped.
"Suddenly it all gets simple," I said in a wondering voice. "You blackmail the three of them into doing this opera for you and everything's fine. Then Donna Alberta —^who's not only a prima donna but fives hke one—starts to get out of line. TThat would be a problem, Earl—I can sympathize with you. You couldn't have Benny kicking her around because it would show. So if you couldn't hurt Donna, you could hurt something close to her like her dog—as a warning to stay in line!"
"How does he get this way, Mr. Harvey?" Benny asked in a bafiBed voice. "You figure it's goof balls or he's a mainfiner already?"
"Shut up, Benny!" Harvey rasped. "I want to hear the rest of it."
"That makes the prima donna real mad," I went on. "She gets her manager to hire a private eye—^me—^to find out who killed the dog, and she confides in her newfound lover, Paul Kendall. Then the producer fronts you and threatens all kind of mayhem if you don't take the prima donna off the hook."
"Are you seriously suggesting I killed Kendall?" Earl snarled.
"Not you personally, maybe," I said generously. "Maybe you let Benny-boy have the pleasure as a reward for disemboweling the dog. But you ordered him dead, Earl, that's for sure!"
"Like I said before—^you're nuts!" he said. "You dreamed it up in your mind where you're real sick."
"Sure," I said. "With Tybolt as a witness that he was blackmailed into his contract with you. Once he tells Lieutenant Chase that, how long do you figure it'll be before Margot Lynn and Donna Alberta back him up?"
"Is that the big idea, pretty-boy?" Marge asked eagerly.
"You going to spill all this to the cops with Rex Tybolt along to back it up?"
"Why not?" I said confidently.
Earl Harvey studied his blunt fingernails for a long moment, then sighed deeply. "Marge—who's operating the concession out at Fountain Park now?"
"Harry Keeno, like always," she said.
He nodded slowly. "I guess that's the best place."
Her eyes lit up eagerly as she took a deep breath. "A big one, Earl?"
"Yeah," he said bleakly. "A big one."
"Mr. Harvey?" Benny said urgently. "Fd take it as a personal favor if you'd let me—"
"Cool off, kiddo!" Marge said sharply. "Pretty-boy is mine and you come along strictly for the ride."
"Mr. Harvey!" Benny almost pouted his full lips. "It's not fair, she always—"
"Shut up, Benny," Earl said absently. "Marge is my sister, remember? She wants it—she's got it."
"Thanks, Earl." Marge's sallow cheeks flushed slightly. "I'll make it a real neat job."
I got up out of the chair and grinned at them. "You can keep trying if you want—^but you're wasting your time. A bunch of cheap grifters like this outfit couldn't scare candy away from a kid even!"
Marge smiled almost warmly at me, then yanked the tight skirt up over her thighs. For a wild moment I wondered if I was supposed to drop dead in ecstasy— then I saw the sheath strapped to the inside of her right thigh and wished I'd kept my big mouth shut for once.
It was a beautiful knife with a sUm ivory haft and an even slimmer blade around eight to nine inches long. Marge held it easily in her right hand as she came toward me, the smile still fixed on her face. The next moment the sharp point was held against my throat.
"If you've got any candy, pretty-boy," she giggled, "now is the time to give!"
Chapter Seven
THE RroE THROUGH THE QUEENS-MIDTOWN
Tunnel and out into Queens was on the fine edge of nightmare all the way, with Benny driving and me on the back seat with Marge for company—Marge, and the razor-edge of her cute little knife held tight against my throat, while she giggled and whispered in my ear the whole time. Fountain Park figured to be an amusement park, but I'd never heard of it and wouldn't have been likely to, since I'd given up ferns wheels ever since the night at Coney when the machine jammed and I'd sat fifty feet in the air for an hour and a half till they got it fixed. This would have been O.K. if the company had been right— but it was just me and the left guard on our high school football team, a couple of guys out on the prowl and up in the air instead.
We wound in and out of Queens and then some, and finally Benny stopped the car just short of a battered neon sign which said fountain park. Inside the gates there didn't look to be many people enjoying the raucous delights of the merry-go-round, ferris wheel, or roller coaster. There was a constant blare of mechanical music that hit the car in waves which built to a deafening peak, then subsided to a roar for maybe ten seconds before they started building up again.
"I'U go find Harry Keeno," Benny said shortly, and got out of the car, slamming the door viciously.
The honed steel pressed even tighter against my jugular.
"Don't get any stupid ideas, pretty-boy," Marge said wamingly. "You wouldn't want to bleed all over Benny's new car now, would you?"
"I wouldn't want to bleed any place,*' I gulped fervently.
"Then you just stay the way you are, nice and relaxed," she said and giggled. "You're cute—you know that? We could have lots of fun!"
"Sure," I said carefully. "But that knife of yours cools it the whole time."
"That's what makes it exciting," she said. "Turn your head toward me, pretty-boy, real slow now."
I did like she said because there was no choice, and looked straight into her eyes. They were wide open with the glassy, fixed stare of a sleepwalker. She moved her head slowly until her hot, dry lips were pressed hard against mine. Her free hand caressed my face for a moment, then the nails dug slowly into my cheek with an ever-increasing pressure. I had a choice then—I could move my head and get my throat cut, or sit there while she kissed my lips and leisurely sh
redded small pieces of skin from my face.
For maybe a couple of minutes I was stuck there enduring a fate not much better than death, with Marge painfully demonstrating her growing excitement the whole time. Then the door beside me was suddenly yanked open and Benny grunted, "Out!"
There was a baldheaded guy with him, wearing a soiled sweatshirt and shapeless cotton pants, the waistband shrunk tight around his sagging belly. His small eyes looked worried, and the loose jowl quivered nervously when he saw the shiv in Marge's hand.
"You remember Harry Keeno, Marge?" Benny asked politely.
"Sure," she said tightly. "He's one of Earl's favorite people. If it weren't for him, you'd be doing time now— right, Harry?"
"No need to talk about that. Miss Harvey," Keeno said in a whining monotone. "Earl knows me O.K.—anything he wants he's got to name it, that's aU!"
"I just named it," Benny said softly. "Harry came up with a real wild answer—it'U kill you, Marge!"
"Try me," she said coldly.
"Let's wait till we're there," Benny said. "You'd better get that knife out of sight. Marge—then walk arm-in-arm
with Boyd, huh? Make it look like you're out for some real fun. Harry can show the way and I'll be right in back of you." He looked at me for a moment. "Try something, punk, anything at all—and you'll get a slug in the base of your spine. You dig?'*
"I read you, man," I said dispiritedly.
Marge's skirt flicked upward for a moment as she sheathed the knife, then she grabbed my arm firmly, hugging it against her like I was the one and only guy in her life. We followed the fat guy inside the amusement park with Benny walking right on our heels.
It was a big place and a long walk. A couple of teenage kids drifted past us, absorbed in each other and obHvious to the rest of the world. The ferris wheel clanked and spun slowly with mostly empty cars going along for the ride. The horses dipped and rose in a stately procession on the merry-go-round with maybe a half-dozen kids clung grimly around their necks.
Harry Keeno turned his head and looked at us almost apologetically, "Bad night," he said. "It's gettin' too cold. You should see it Saturday nights, though—real good business then, even at the end of the season."
"Don't worry, Harry," Marge said, smiling at him thinly. "We like it just fine the way it is!"
"Yeah," he said wanly and turned his head again quickly so he looked straight ahead.
A few yards later we passed a big pool with paper cups floating along its edges and a gushing fountain in the center with lights playing on it. We all turned pink and then blue and then green, and then we were finally out of range. Along the walk further on the place was getting really sleepy and there were gaps in the brilliantly lit concessions where the operator had either already closed down for the night or Keeno hadn't found a buyer for the pitch. The further we went, the more the areas of darkness increased. Finally Keeno stopped outside a darkened entrance and leaned against the deserted ticket booth.
"This is it," he said jerkily.
We stopped, facing him with Marge still holding tight to my arm, while Benny moved around in front of us, next to Keeno.
"I told you it was real wild," he said with a wide grin on
his baby face. "The answer to a maiden's prayer, Marge —it was closed down this morning for maintenance, and it'll be a couple of days yet before it's operating again. Right, Harry?"
"Yeah,"—Keeno's jowl wobbled miserably—"That's right."
"The perfect place to take the punk for a ride," Benny said happily. "When you're all through, Marge, you can just drop him into the water and maybe he'll never come up."
"I don't get it," Marge said sharply. "What kind of place is this?"
Benny shook with silent laughter for a few moments before he could answer. "I figured you must have worked it out already," he gurgled. "The tunnel of love!"
"Come on inside," Keeno said with a faint touch of pride in his voice. "I got it fixed up real nice—with the grottos all the way around—and a fountain in the middle of the lake and all."
He unlocked the door in the center of the boarded-up front and we followed him inside. I waited with Benny's gun in my back while Keeno fumbled around in the darkness until he found the main switch. Then blue light softly illuminated the landing stage and there was a rumbling sound underneath us as the motor started. A series of clanking noises followed; then an empty boat slowly appeared out of the darkness beyond the landing stage and glided to a halt in front of us. A few moments later the clanking started again and the boat moved off down the narrow water channel, disappearing into darkness again.
"It's all automatic," Keeno explained. "Each boat stops at the landing for fifteen seconds—plenty of time for the suckers to climb in. All the boats are hooked on the one circuit—so they get a lot of stops on the way around." He grinned, showing yellow teeth. "Not that we ever get a beef about that!"
"It takes ten minutes to do the complete circuit," Benny said. "Right, Harry?"
"Right," Keeno nodded.
"The water channel's around four feet deep," Benny went on in a soft voice. "Except for the lake in the middle—that's around seven, maybe eight feet deep—right, Harry?"
"Right," Keeno agreed. "Real pretty with the fountain spraying in the center with different-colored Ughts and all."
"Four minutes to reach the lake," Benny added. "That suit you all right, Marge?"
She wet her lips nervously before she answered. "It sounds Uke real fun," she whispered. "Put him in the boat."
With Benny's gun held against the side of my head, I didn't have any choice. As soon as the next boat stopped beside the landing, I stepped down into it and sat on the hard seat at the back end. A moment later Marge sat beside me, her knife pressed firmly against my throat— fit into its original groove, I figured despairingly. The sudden clanking noise came again and the boat jerked slowly forward.
"So long, punk!" Benny chuckled.
The channel was maybe four feet wide with plaster walls on either side. We gUded leisurely into total darkness, then the boat came to a stop.
"Put your arms around me, lover," Marge whispered tensely. "Hold me close!"
I did like she said, the honed edge of the blade against my jugular giving me all the encouragment I needed. The clanking came again and the boat sHd onward, passing the first grotto—made of plaster with imitation ferns and an anaemic waterfall, all lit in a subdued greenish tinge.
"You don't have much time, lover," Marge said thickly. "Why don't you make the most of it, huh?"
Her dry, burning Hps clamped against mine while she made little gobbling noises deep in her throat. It was a nightmare repetition of the car ride, only this time we were that much closer to the end of the fine. When we reached the center of the lake, she'd use her shiv and dump me over the side of the boat in seven, maybe eight, feet of water. This was her real big kick and she figured she was doing me the ultimate favor—I could die in ecstasy.
For the next two or three minutes everything merged into a blurred fantasy of Marge's body writhing against mine, her eerie, passionate whisperings in my ear, the endless succession of stops and starts as the boat jerked its way toward the lake—with the only reality being the cold steel against my neck. How she managed to keep
that blade steadily in place while the rest of her was so busy was more than I could figure out, but she managed it all right.
Then the narrow channel widened suddenly as we floated gently across the lake. From the comer of my eye I saw the rainbow-hued fountain spraying a gentle cascade in the center, and figured I had maybe another half minute at most.
I tightened my arms around Marge, crushing her to me in simulated passion while she gasped with delight. My hands roved with frustrated tension, as the boat made another routine stop, and I let my right hand slide down over her hip and thigh until it sHpped under the back of her knees.
The sweat saturated my chest while I waited for the boat to move again. Then as it jerked forward,
I threw my head back wildly while I tightened my grip on the back of her knees and levered upward in a sudden, convulsive thrust.
Marge screamed thinly as she fell back, my arm thrusting her legs up over her head so she somersalted backward out of the boat into the lake. The point of the knife made a shallow slice into the side of my neck the moment before it dropped from her hand and clattered into the bottom of the boat.
There was a splash as she hit the surface of the lake, then disappeared. A second later her head came up and she thrashed around wildly, then sank again. The boat came to a stop beside the illuminated fountain as her head surfaced.
'T can't swim!" she shrieked, her arms flailing helplessly. "I can't—" The water closed over her mouth as she sank beneath the lake again.
I grabbed the knife from the bottom of the boat, wedged it under my belt, then dived into the lake as the boat jerked forward. Half a dozen strokes brought me to the spot where I'd last seen her—she wasn't hard to find in maybe seven feet of water. I got a firm grip around her neck and lugged her head clear. Her fear-crazed eyes stared at me dully and I couldn't resist it.
"Pardon me," I said courteously. "What time is the next boat?"
A few seconds later the next boat arrived, and when it stopped I manhandled Marge into it and hoisted myself in right after. As we glided serenely past the fountain, I sat down and pulled her up on my knee with my right arm around her neck, holding the knife firmly against her skin.
"Get this fast," I snarled in her ear. "I pulled you out of the lake for one reason only—you're my ticket out of here. For me, you're Dracula's daughter and I'd get a kick out of cutting your throat! You do like I say or you're dead—right. Marge?"
She shivered violently with her teeth chattering like they wanted to say something but had forgotten how. I increased the pressure of the blade against her throat gently and suddenly her voice came back.
"All right!" she choked. "Anything you say—anything at all."
The savage salome Page 7
