He tried to roll over. He felt the slack in the wet rope. Unbelieving, he pulled with one arm and pushed against the pull with the other. His right hand slid free. He brought it around in front of him and stared at the mixture of rust and blood and sweat staining it. He shook the rope away from his left hand.
His fingers were numb. He battered them against his leg in vicious hard chops until the circulation began to tingle in their tips. He bent down and worked free the knots that held his legs together. He grasped the winch and pulled himself carefully upright. He stomped on the deck until his feet were no longer useless stumps.
He looked around for a weapon.
He saw the handle of the anchor winch. He located the pin. He pushed it free and slid the handle from its spindle. He held the heavy iron in his right hand and walked quietly to the cabin door.
He jerked the door open and stepped inside the cabin, swinging the handle over his head. He stopped. He saw now why Graef had not come out to check on Nick Thoms.
Graef lay on the cabin floor. The right side of his face was battered to raw pulp. His sightless left eye stared emptily upward. The head of a wrench was buried in his skull.
Blalock and Ole were fighting a strange, silent fight by the wheel. Blalock held Graef’s gun. Ole had a grip on Blalock’s wrist. Blalock kept whipping his free hand at Ole, and Ole kept rolling to one side. He held an open jackknife in his other hand. He had already laid open Blalock’s scarred cheek with it.
Ole yelled, “Denise!” in a frantic voice.
Denise was facing aft. She stared at Mallory. Her face was oyster white. She whispered, “Where is Thoms?”
“He went for a swim,” Mallory said. He brushed past her, moving toward the two men by the wheel.
Mallory tossed down the winch handle. He caught Blalock’s free arm and pulled. Blalock’s wrist slipped out of Ole’s grip. He swung the gun, laying open Mallory’s cheek with the barrel. Mallory got a hand on the gun and jerked. Blalock clung frantically. His chest came up against Mallory, pinning the gun between them.
The boat heeled again and Mallory slapped against a bulkhead and dropped to the floor. Blalock landed on top. Mallory heaved with his body. Blalock tried to twist the gun out of Mallory’s grasp. It made an odd, muffled sound. Mallory felt Blalock’s flabby body go suddenly empty of life.
Mallory pushed Blalock away and got to his feet.
Blalock had pulled the trigger too soon. He had shot himself in the mouth.
Ole said, “Chee-rist, what a mess!” He wiped blood from his face. He had the wheel now and he was working the boat to meet the swells.
Mallory said wearily, “Head it back for the Washington coast, Ole.” He saw his clothes where Thoms had left them and he dressed quickly.
Ole stared up at him. “With a hundred grand in that tin can? The hell I’m going back!” He released the wheel and threw his wiry body past Mallory. He fell on top of Blalock and rolled away. He had the gun.
Mallory kicked the gun out of Ole’s hand. He pulled Ole to his feet. He hit Ole in the throat and then twice on the edge of the jawbone. Ole collapsed, and Mallory saw that he was old and tired.
Mallory picked up the gun and turned to speak to Denise. The cabin was empty. The briefcase and the money box were gone. He fought against the free rolling of the boat and ran onto the afterdeck.
He shouted, “Denise?” and heard his voice die in the fog.
He felt something bump lightly against the hull. He crossed to the starboard rail. Denise was in the dinghy. She had obviously untied the painter and let the small boat drift. The current had swept her around to the starboard side and it was holding her there.
She sat in the stern, the money box and the briefcase at her feet. She was pulling wildly at the starter rope of the outboard motor. She gave an anguished tug on the rope. It slipped from the notched wheel and snapped from her hand. It rose lazily and dropped into the water.
Denise leaned out, reaching for the rope. The dinghy began to tip. She leaned back quickly. The rope floated away and disappeared into the fog.
Denise lifted her head and stared at Mallory. She began to scream with shrill hysteria.
Mallory leaned over the rail and caught the painter. He tied it to a deck cleat. He said, “All right, come back on board.”
She stopped screaming abruptly. She said, “A hundred and forty thousand dollars, Cliff.” Her hands fumbled over the box. “There’s a boat waiting for Graef. We can take it instead.”
Mallory said, “Come back up, Denise.”
She stood up slowly. She lifted the briefcase and the metal box, and then climbed to the deck. She held the briefcase in her left hand and the money box under her left arm. She pressed her breasts to Mallory’s side. She reached down and touched him with her right hand.
“Don’t you remember how it was, Cliff? In the motel and in the tent—and just a little while ago?” Her fingers contracted softly. “Cliff, lover …”
Mallory wrenched away from her. He lifted his hand and slapped the flat of his palm across her mouth.
She raised her knuckles to her lips and bit down on them. Her eyes were dulled with shock. She dropped her hand suddenly, closing it over the gun. She twisted it out of Mallory’s grasp and stepped away from him. He moved toward her.
She said, “I’ll use it on you, Cliff.”
He stopped.
The boat pitched, nearly throwing Denise off her feet. She held herself upright with an effort. “Get inside and take the wheel,” she said.
Mallory walked into the cabin. She stayed two careful steps behind him. He took the wheel and turned the boat into the swells. Denise walked past him and sat on a forward bunk. She put the money box and the briefcase at her feet. They slid gently back and forth with the motion of the boat.
She said, “Keep going toward Canada, Cliff. If you try to trick me, I’ll have to kill you.”
Chapter XXIII
“LIKE you killed Graef,” Mallory said.
“I didn’t,” she protested. “Blalock killed him.”
“Sure,” Mallory said. “Blalock just sneezed and his ropes fell off.”
She touched her tongue to her lips, moistening them. “I let him loose. But I did it for you. I untied Blalock and screamed so Graef would come back in the cabin and leave you alone.”
“And you gave Blalock that wrench to hit Graef with,” Mallory said. “How did you have it planned, Denise? Was Blalock supposed to kill Graef and take his gun and then kill Ole?”
She cried, “Don’t talk that way. I didn’t plan anything.”
Mallory said, “And after he killed Ole, what then? Wasn’t Nick Thoms supposed to come back into the cabin so Blalock could shoot him—after Thoms had obligingly got rid of me for you?”
She said, “I had to do something. Graef was going to kill us all.”
Mallory said, “That’s what set you off, wasn’t it—Graef saying he was going to fix it so you’d be found dead with Blalock. That was when you really knew that he was going to double-cross you.”
“Cliff, whatever are you talking about?”
Mallory said, “I’m talking about the game you and Graef played together. It was damned clever. First you got me on a leash so that I’d help guide you in the mountains. After Blalock dug up the money and you didn’t need that kind of help, you still needed me. Because the way you and Graef planned it from the beginning, I was to be the fall guy.”
“Cliff, have you gone crazy?”
“No,” Mallory said, “I’ve just got my sanity back. And you almost made it work, Denise. You knew well enough what kind of person I was. You knew I’d fall for your story about Rick Lawton and his threats. And you had a good idea you could keep me from thinking too clearly by using your body.”
She stared at him, her dark eyes wide.
Mallory took a final drag on his cigarette. He let it drop to the deck and stubbed his toe on the coal. He said, “I’ve been remembering things. Graef showed up so very neatly,
first at the junction and then at the motel. And you were so scared of a man nine hundred miles away. Too scared, Denise. You overplayed the part.”
She said, “Cliff …”
He said, “There never was any Rick Lawton, was there? There was just Miles Graef. Certainly not from Kansas City, more like San Francisco. Miles Graef and a woman whose father really disowned her because she kicked around with types like that. And then there was Blalock and Graef’s little plan. And you contributed your part by remembering your conscientious, one-time husband who knew the mountains backward and forward. And who was the simple type, the easy mark.”
She said, “Do you really believe that of me, Cliff?”
He said, “How long were you in Portland, checking on me, figuring how best to set me up so I’d help Graef?”
She said nothing.
Mallory said, “It’s easy to see—now. Looking back. The little things I missed before. I was too busy wanting what you had to offer to see them.”
Denise moistened her lips again. “We’re awfully good together—that way. You can still have what you want.”
Mallory ignored her. He said, “The fact that you were at the airport didn’t mean you’d just come in on a plane. But I was too busy figuring out ways to help you to think about that. There were other things I should have thought more about, too. Like how quickly Graef figured out who Rick Lawton was, and how right away he knew you were in danger from Lawton.”
He lit another cigarette and sucked in smoke greedily. “I should have known when I threw the coffee in Graef’s face. He and Thoms both got out of the wagon, leaving you in the front seat. You could have driven off then, but you didn’t.”
“And leave you with them, Cliff? I couldn’t do that! And where would I have gone, with Rick or his men looking for me?”
Mallory said wearily, “You can drop the act. It’s no good any more. Because I’m not going with you. You’ll have to hide from the world by yourself, Denise. You and all your money.”
She stared at him for a long moment. Mallory looked back at her without expression. She dropped her eyes from his. Her shoulders sagged suddenly, and she looked tired and drawn.
She said in a low voice, “All right, Cliff. But what I told you in Portland was true. Dad did kick me out. Only it wasn’t Rick Lawton I went to. It was Miles. Can’t you see, I had to do something. I …” Her voice broke. She recovered and went on, “But you don’t care why I did it, do you, Cliff?”
Mallory said, “For money, for excitement, to ‘show’ your father. What difference does the reason make?”
She said, “I did it for a little of all those reasons, I suppose.” She paused, and then added in a low voice, “Cliff, when did you know about me?”
Mallory said, “I really started thinking when we were in the meadow and you gave me that line about how you might help if you sucked up to Graef. That gave you a chance to talk to him without my being suspicious. Then you made that break and ran into the woods and hid and I decided I’d been wrong. It took me a while to realize that your running like that was all part of a plan you and Graef cooked up to give Blalock a chance to make a break and go for the money.”
“I’m sorry you were shot,” she said. “I didn’t want that to happen—that’s why I told that story to Graef about your leg being broken. I thought it was only fair to give you one chance.”
“Thanks,” Mallory said. He paused to suck on the cigarette. “I think I really started to be sure when I came to in the lookout and Graef and Thoms were gone. Because of the way I tied them, they couldn’t have got loose by themselves easily or quickly. You turned them loose so they’d get a head start after Blalock. You kept up the gag about Rick so I wouldn’t start thinking. And then you led me right to them.”
She looked away from him.
He said, “You were the one who knew most about this part of the country. Graef didn’t. It was you who came into the mountains in the jeep and checked. And it was you who made the arrangement for Graef to change cars after he kidnaped Blalock. The newspaper said he had a gray sedan when he attacked those undersheriffs, but he had a green one when he caught up with us.”
He heard movement to his left. He saw Ole climbing groggily to his feet.
Mallory said, “You made the arrangements for Ole and his boat too. And it was Ole who clinched the case against you for me, Denise. He called for help when he was fighting with Blalock. And he used your first name. That isn’t the way one stranger thinks of another, so it meant he knew you pretty well.”
She lifted her head and looked pleadingly at him. “All right, Cliff, I did everything you said. But it doesn’t have to change things between us. With all this money we can have what we had together in the motel. We can go a long way away, and there’ll just be the two of us….”
Mallory stood up, bracing himself with his right hand on the wheel. Denise shifted the gun quickly, keeping it in line with him.
She said abruptly, “Stay right these, Cliff. Don’t try to trick me.”
Mallory said mockingly, “There’d be just the two of us—and you with that gun, waiting for me to trick you.” He was suddenly very tired. He said, “Let Ole take over. He knows where to go. I don’t.”
He watched her eyes slide toward Ole and then back to him. They looked angry now. She said, “Take the wheel, Ole, and then find a spot where we can get rid of Cliff. We’ll have to do what Miles planned, after all.”
“A pleasure,” Ole said. He moved slowly toward the wheel.
Mallory stood quietly, waiting for the brief instant when Ole would be between Denise and the wheel. Then he threw the throttle wide open. At the same time he spun the wheel, whipping the small boat sharply to port.
Ole shouted as the sudden motion threw him. He made a grab for Mallory and missed. His feet caught in Blalock’s sliding body and he fell to the deck.
Mallory saw the gun waver as Denise made a frantic effort to brace herself. He went around the wheel and threw himself at her. She slid away from him. His fingers scraped across her shoulder. He caught them in her hair and pulled her back toward him.
Denise screamed at him and tried to twist around to get the gun in position. Mallory brought his other hand up and hit her under the ear. He let go of her hair.
She fell forward and slid to the deck between the bunks. The gun was half under her body and she kept screaming wildly as she groped frantically for it.
Mallory bent down and took the gun and the briefcase. He left the money box. He straightened up and went back to the wheel, setting down the briefcase. He turned the bow of the boat into the swells and lashed the wheel. Keeping the gun in his left hand, he began to pull the foghorn control with his right. He sounded out a raucous distress signal in steady rhythm.
Denise pulled herself slowly to the bunk. She picked up the money box and held it to her breast. She stared dully at Mallory.
She said, “Don’t do this, Cliff. Not to me. Not when we could have so much together.”
Mallory said nothing. He saw Ole stir and lift himself to his knees. He moved the gun slightly and Ole let himself fall back.
Denise shouted, “Cliff, did you hear what I said?”
Mallory kept on working the foghorn. He was still sounding it when the coast-guard cutter came alongside and a man in officer’s uniform made his way into the cabin.
The man said, “All right, fellow. What’s the trouble here?”
Mallory stopped sounding the foghorn. He took the briefcase, stood up, and put the gun in his pocket. He walked aft toward the officer.
Mallory held out the briefcase. He said, “I was supposed to deliver this in Port Angeles Saturday. I’m a couple of days late. See to it, will you?”
He could hear Denise screaming hysterically from the bow as he collapsed quietly to the deck. Then the darkness came and he couldn’t hear her anymore.
It was wonderful, he thought contentedly.
Serving as inspiration for contemporary literature, Prologue
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Copyright © 1960 by Louis Trimble.
Copyright © renewed 1988 by Louis Trimble.
Published by arrangement with Golden West Literary Agency.
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
eISBN 10: 1-4405-4198-1
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-4198-8
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Girl on a Slay Ride Page 14
