Masters Of Noir Vol I Part 9

"We see you, baby," they chorused, circling Julia.

"We dig you, too," the yellow-haired one said.

Linda giggled and pulled at the chunky one's shoe. He reached down and patted her head. A red-haired youth saw him do it, and moved behind Julia and reached down and smoothed her hair. He snarled both hands in her hair and slowly bent her head back, until she was looking up at him. He leaned close to her and licked his lips.

The yellow-haired one knelt on the blanket. "Look," he said. "Look at all the crazy food." He unwrapped a sandwich. "Chicken sandwiches." He smelled of it, tossed it over his shoulder. He grabbed a handful of olives and threw them up into the air. "Olives," he said. He began to grab everything in sight, one thing at a time, naming it, then throwing it into the air. "Chocolate cake! Zoom! Orange! Ham sandwich! Zoom-zoom! Celery-look at that crazy celery! Peanut b.u.t.ter!" The jar smashed against a tree. They all began grabbing food and throwing it into the air.

Harper moved toward the yellow-haired one with his hands held out, saying words. The youth picked up the thermos of lemonade. It was open. He sniffed at the opening. "Have you had any of this?" he asked Harper.

"I'll get the cops," Harper said. He shouted, "You hear me? Get out of here and let us alone!"

"Fighting spirit," one of them said.

"He's a gone cat," another said.

"Real gone."

"He's dead."

"He don't like us."

"Shame."

"He looks looks mean." mean."

"Looks and is, two different things."

"He sure ain't is."

"Man, you're frozen solid."

"Crazy."

"Wait," the yellow-haired one said. "He wants some lemonade. He hasn't had any."

Three of them grabbed Harper and held him, forced him down to the ground. The yellow-haired one stood above him and poured the lemonade on Harper's face until the thermos gurgled empty. Harper knelt there, gasping, spraying lemonade.

Julia Harper was on her feet now. "Stop it," she said. She moved quickly toward her husband. "Did you hear me? You boys, stop it-now!"

The red-haired young man grabbed her around the waist, slapped her bare thigh with the flat of his hand. "We got your message, baby," he said.

Julia tried to pull away from the red-head. He yanked her to him harshly, holding her against him, held her face and kissed her. She fought and struggled violently in his arms, but he held her very tightly, kissing her.

The yellow-haired one watched Harper. The young man scratched his head, watching Harper. Harper knelt on the ground, his hair hanging down, covered with lemon rinds and blobs of unmelted sugar. There were lemon pits in his hair.

"Stop!" Julia said sharply. She gasped. Julia said sharply. She gasped.

"She's a bomb," the one who held her said. "A great big, wonderful bomb, I tell you. Wasn't I right?"

Harper started to get up.

The yellow-haired one said, "You do what you're thinking and I'll smash your head in." Then he said. "You weren't going to do anything, anyways-were you?"

Harper looked at him, and that was all.

The yellow-haired one said. "My great Jesus Christ. This big man sure scares."

Linda ran around on the blanket, then began to cry.

The yellow-haired one dropped the gallon thermos and called out, "Billy. Take care of the kid. You got the duty."

"Please!" Julia said. Julia said.

"She told me 'please'," the redhead said. "Wow!"

Harper stood up, lemonade-drenched. The yellow-haired youth stared at him. Then he stepped over to Harper and shoved him in the direction of Julia and the redhead. Harper stumbled forward and the chunky fellow in the blue shorts brought his foot up and kicked Harper in the face.

Harper fell down and did not move.

"Take care of him," the yellow-haired one said. "Tie him to a tree. He's faking. Hurry up!"

A tall, lanky boy took Linda by the hand and moved quietly over beside the yellow and chrome hotrod, talking to her. "You going to grow up like your mommy?" he asked. "Tell me the truth, are you?" He paused. "'Cause if you are, I'll stand right here and wait."

Harper came to his feet again. The yellow-haired one turned lithely, stepped up to him and shook his head sadly. Then he set himself with both feet planted flat and wide apart and struck with his right fist so hard Harper flipped and struck the ground like a plank.

"Now, tie him to a tree, like I said."

Two of them took Harper over to the nearest pine, dragging him along the ground. One ran to the chrome and yellow car and returned with a length of rope. They lifted him to a sitting position and tied him to the tree. He stared groggily, moving his lips-watching his wife, Julia.

"Please, little girl," the one with Linda said. "Tell me the absolute truth now. Don't you fib to me. Are you going to grow them," he made a gesture with both hands near his chest, "like your mama?"

The other four stood in a circle around Julia.

"Dell!" Julia called. "Dell-do something."

They laughed. "He's faking," one of them said.

"You've got to stop this," she said, breathing rapidly. She wasn't crying, but she was close to tears. She stamped her foot. "Go away!" she shouted. "Leave us alone!"

"Oh, crazy!" one of them yelled. "She jiggles!"

"Go ahead and scream your head off," the yellow-haired one said. "n.o.body can hear you, darling. The falls makes too much noise. We know, don't we guys?"

"We know ev-ry-thing," they chorused.

"'Cause we come to this spot a lot," the yellow-haired one said.

"What do you want?" Julia said.

"Strip, baby," the yellow-haired one said. "Just strip, that's all."

"What? Dell-Dell!"

"Run, Julia!" Harper shouted. "For G.o.d's sake, run!"

"Strip," the yellow-haired one said. "Let's see the goodies."

"Are-are you crazy?" Julia said in a whisper. She started backing away from them. They were in a circle around her. One of them knocked his knee against her leg.

"Take your clothes off," the yellow-haired one said. "Or we'll do it for you. Whichever way you like, honey. We're going to have a picnic, too-'cause we got your message."

"What do you mean?" Julia said.

The yellow-haired one stepped up to her, grabbed the front of her jersey and yanked down on it, ripping it. Then he moved back again.

"Whichever way you want," he said.

Julia Harper stared at them.

"We like to watch," one said.

"Run," her husband said. "Run, Julia-run."

"Well?" the yellow-haired youth said.

Julia Harper looked at them, then slowly lifted her arms and pulled off the jersey. Then she went on just as the yellow-haired youth told her. There was silence now, with only the sound of the waterfall.

Occasionally, Harper heard her cry out. The last of them was over there behind those bushes with her now. Harper had shouted himself hoa.r.s.e. He still tried to shout off and on. He stared, his eyes sick and gone. He was defeated.

The bushes were not high. Now and again he could see one of their heads come up above the bushes, grimacing. Twice he saw Julia's feet. There was very little noise now. Finally, the fellows came out from behind the bushes, looked at Harper, then walked over to the car. The yellow-haired one, who had been playing with Linda, turned and walked over to Harper. The rest of them came along.

They did not speak. They just looked at him.

"I'll get you," Harper said. "Don't ever forget that. I'll get you-I'll get you ... "

They formed a straight line in front of Harper and looked down at him soberly and shook their heads in unison. They stood there shaking their heads for a few seconds. Then abruptly, they turned and ran for the yellow and chrome hot-rod, climbed in, and drove off.

Linda came and stood in front of her father and shook her head.

Harper screamed at her. "Stop-stop it!"

She giggled and began running in circles.

"Julia?" he called. "Julia-are you all right?"

He looked up and she had just stepped out from behind the bushes. She had her shorts on and the torn yellow jersey. She moved slowly and she looked pale and sheened with sweat, and as if she might have been crying. Her hair was damp and snarled, and brown pine needles clung in its dark richness. Lipstick was smeared all around her mouth.

"I couldn't do anything," Harper said. "Don't look at me like that. There was nothing I could do. What could I do against all of them? them? Untie me-quick." Untie me-quick."

She untied him, and he saw the blazing anger and disgust in her eyes. She walked to the car and got in and sat there. Harper gathered the blankets, the picnic basket and put them in the car. He avoided the gallon thermos. He put Linda in the back seat, then quickly slid behind the wheel.

"We'll call the cops," he said. "Soon as we get to town. First phone we see. We'll stop and phone the cops."

Julia began sobbing, staring straight ahead.

He reached toward her, touched her shoulder. "You all right, we'll stop at a hospital-right away."

She spun away from him, turned and looked at him. Then she flipped the sun-visor down and looked at herself in the mirror. She found her white-beaded purse. Her hands were trembling. She took out her lipstick and as she began to outline her mouth in deep red, apparently oblivious to the way it was smeared, sobs broke convulsively from her.

"I couldn't do anything," Harper was saying. "They knocked the h.e.l.l out of me, Julia. I couldn't do any-"

"No! No! Of course not!" She threw her purse to one side, tears of anger and frustration streaming down her face. "They-they would've-beat you-"

"You saw how it was."

"Oh, yes. Sure." She was sobbing without restraint now. "I'm glad you didn't-do anything."

"What?" he said, thoroughly puzzled.

Julia straight-armed the sun visor back into place. "I said, I'm glad you didn't do anything, Dell. Because I liked it, Dell. I liked every minute of it. Every G.o.d d.a.m.ned minute of it!"

FRAME by FRANK KANE

The phone on the night table started to ring shrilly, discordantly. Johnny Liddell groaned, cursed softly, dug his head into the pillow, but the noise refused to go away. He opened one eye experimentally, peered at the half lowered shade and noted that it was still dark.

He tried to wipe the sleep from his eyes, but it wouldn't wipe away. The phone kept ringing. Finally, he reached out and lifted the receiver off its hook.

"Yeah?" he growled sleepily.

"This is Laury Lane. Come out here right away. That man of yours is going crazy and-" The voice was drowned out by the flat, ugly bark of a shot. The line went dead.

Liddell was suddenly wide awake. And ice cold. He started to jiggle the cross bar on the phone. "h.e.l.lo. h.e.l.lo." The only answer was the soft click of a phone being hung up at the other end.

Liddell continued to jiggle the cross bar. The metallic voice of the operator cut in: "What number are you calling?"

"I'm not calling a number. Somebody was calling me. We've been cut off. Can you get them back?"

"I must have the number."

Liddell growled deep in his chest. "Never mind, thanks. They'll probably call back." He tossed the receiver back on its hook, started stuffing his legs into his trousers. He headed for the bathroom, completed the waking-up process by splashing ice cold water into his face, then finished dressing. He shrugged into a shoulder harness, clipped his .45 into place, covering it with a jacket. He was headed for his garage less than ten minutes after the phone had started to ring.

Laury Lane lived in a small colony of two-acre plot estates just outside of Sands Point on Long Island's North Sh.o.r.e. Johnny Liddell headed out Northern Boulevard, making the forty-minute ride in something short of a half hour.