The Name of the Game is Death (15 page)

I turned into a long driveway that wound between individual cabins set well back from the edge of the road. I stopped at the one marked "Office" and got out and went inside. Lucille stayed in the car.

I registered under the bored eye of the bald-headed manager. He read my upside-down "Mr. and Mrs. Chet Arnold" with practiced ease. "Anything special, Mr. Arnold?" he inquired.

"A quiet one."

"Certainly, sir." lie turned to the key rack behind him.

When he faced front again, I was filling in another registration card. "That one's for my brother-in-law and his wife," I said, pointing to the Arnold card. "I'll pay you for both."

The manager dropped the key in his hand on the Arnold card and turned to get another. He performed his upside down reading stunt on the second card. "This one's every bit us good, Mr. Reynolds. They're together, the last two on the right."

"Fine " I paid him, picked up both keys, numbers 10 and 11, and went out to the car. Number 10 was the Arnolds' cabin, Number 11 the Reynolds'. I drove to the end of the wooded lot and stopped in front of number 11. I got out and let Lucille out on her side, opened the cabin door, and stepped aside to let her enter. "I'll be back in a second," I told her.

I went back to the Ford and backed it off the driveway on the grass behind the cabin. I parked it between two trees. We'd eaten so early the sky was still bright overhead, but under the trees it was nearly dark.

Lucille displayed no curiosity about my short absence. She had every light in the place on when I went back inside. She was humming to herself, moving slowly about the room in a way that suggested a dance step. Her eyes were enormous, the biggest part of her face. She began to undress leisurely, without saying a word.

I went into the bathroom and closed the door. I took off my jacket and removed my shoulder holster, I extracted my .38 from the holster, and wrapped the gun loosely in a towel. I put the holster in a jacket pocket, shrugged into the jacket again, and left the bathroom carrying the towel.

Lucille was sitting on the edge of the bed in her panties. She smiled up at me lazily. The tip of her tongue flicked over her lips. I put the towel down carefully on the night table, then sat down on the bed beside her.

I stood her up between my spread legs, and made a production of removing her panties. Her thighs were tanned, her buttocks milky. She looked like a two-toned animal. Fleecy blonde curls covered her prominent mound.

She crawled onto the bed and stretched out on her belly while I undressed. I kept my shoes on. I walked to the door and locked and bolted it. When I turned, Lucille was on her back watching me. Her eyes looked almost filmed. Her head was up slightly from the pillow and slightly turned, as though she were listening.

I was listening, too.

I walked back toward her. I was only a stride from the bed when we both heard it with no trouble at all. There was a splintering crash from the next cabin as the door of number 10 went down. Blaze Franklin had arrived on schedule. I could hear the thump of heavy boots as he blundered around in the dark.

Lucille's eyes widened when she realized I'd somehow

sucked Blaze into the wrong cabin. Her breasts lifted as she opened her mouth to scream. I slapped her bare belly solidly. Her legs jackknifed as the intended scream emerged as a blurted gargle. That was all.

Franklin couldn't stay to hunt for us. He was all done on this caper right now. He had no business there, and he had to get away from the empty cabin where he'd forced entry. Not seeing the Ford, he had to think we'd come and gone already. The .38 and my shoes were insurance against his being smarter than I thought.

I covered Lucille's mouth with my hand until I heard the whine of the cruiser pulling away. She tried to bite me, and I slapped her. When she tried it again, I showed her my knuckles. She quieted down. It was no blacker under the trees outside than in the depths of her eyes.

"You get yourself wet watching him beat them up?" I asked her.

Her mouth was damp at the corners. "He makes them crawl," she said almost in a whisper. She didn't look particularly afraid at being left alone with me. "What are you going to do?"

"I'll show you what I'm going to do."

I took hold of her.

She submitted passively until she realized my intention.

She squirmed like a mink and hissed like a cat all the time I abused her.

It was four in the morning before we left there.

Fifty percent of us had enjoyed it.

I drove back to Hudson and let Lucille out a block from her house. False dawn was lighting the sky. I didn't want to drive to her door in case Franklin was waiting for her or. ha front porch. Given his present mood he might cut down both of us with his police special.

Lucille hadn't said a word all the way back to town. She looked around when I stopped the car. It took her a moment to recognize where she was. She opened the car door and got out, unsteady on her high heels, then leaned back in to spit at me. "Blaze will kill you for this," she rasped.

I appreciate a good hater. "Think again, sister," I told her. "How are you going to explain it to your lord and master? You set up the place, and then you weren't there. What does Blaze use on you when he's a little out of sorts? His belt? A jealous man believes what he wants to believe, and Blaze is going to figure you were a partner in your disappearance tonight."

I could have counted to ten while she stared at me. I'd given her something to think about. Then she slammed the car door and started up the street. I sat and watched her

It wasn't hard to see where Jed Raymond had found the adjective "shark-toothed" in connection with the widow Grimes. I owed Jed something for keeping me from making the play with my eyes shut. Franklin and his blonde must have had a Roman holiday with the suitors she'd set up for him to knock over. And of course none of them would ever talk about it.

I couldn't show much of a plus on the real purpose of the evening. Conversation had been sidetracked in favor of action. On the other hand, it had done me good to vent a little spleen upon a truly poisonous female.

I drove off, easing the-Ford through the deserted square, toward the Lazy Susan. I parked a block away and came up on it from the rear on foot. I thought I had Franklin's reaction figured, but until I knew for sure I had to be ready to see him on short notice. There was no cruiser in the motel yard. I walked completely around the motel, my footsteps silent on the grass. I could see the night clerk through the office window, his head nodding.

There was no sign of Franklin.

Lucille would be lucky if it was tomorrow instead of light now that she was down on her knees trying to explain.

I took vicarious pleasure in the thought.

I went into my unit at last and showered and shaved. It

was dawn when I stretched out on the bed with my hands folded behind my head. A thousand flickering images of the night's activities paraded through my mind. But I finally turned off the mental projector. I began to get a feeling about Blaze Franklin and Lucille Grimes.

It was time I figured a way of getting at them.

I interrupted Hazel's preoccupied feeding of potato chips to Kaiser at our booth in the Dixie Pig. "That's the third time in ten minutes you've looked me over as though checking for ringworm," I said. "What gives?"

"Just looking for battle scars," she answered. "I heard you had a date with the blonde."

"My, my. This
is
a small town. You've got the blonde all wrong, though. She's really quite kittenish."

Hazel snorted. "So's a Rocky Mountain panther. Frankly, I don't get it. Has the light in your baby blues reformed her?"

"How did she get into the conversation, anyway? Let's get to something important, like what's on your schedule after closing tonight."

"I could run out in back and check my social calendar, but I'll take a chance and say I'm free." She gave me her warm, beautiful Hazel-smile. "Did you have a discussion period in mind?"

"If you can discuss on your back." "What a rejuvenation!" The smile on her lips over-flowed into her eyes. "I've got to get back to work before I lose my maidenly reserve entirely." She wagged a finger at me. "You watch out for the blonde, y'hear? She's a tricky hitch."

"And here I thought I'd successfully changed the subject."

Hazel smiled again before she went back to the bar. I took over her job of feeding potato chips to Kaiser. The big dog loved potato chips. I'd tested him with a potato chip versus a piece of steak. He ate the steak, all right, but

lie ate the potato chip first. He'd crunch the chip, then circle his muzzle with his tongue to get all the salt.

This town had already given me one surprise in the appearance of the redheaded Eddie from Manny Sebastian's Golden Peacock parking lot in Mobile. When I looked up from feeding Kaiser, I had another. Lucille Grimes was halfway across the floor, heading toward my booth.

Her hands were empty, and her bag dangled loosely from its shoulder strap. That much I made sure of in the first split second. Then she was standing beside the booth. "Sit down, if you can," I greeted her. "What color welts are you wearing these days?"

She attempted to smile, but her eyes were murderous. She sat down, and I watched her until she laid her handbag aside. I had no intention of playing clay pigeon for this dolly. When she began speaking, it was plain she had herself under a tight rein. "I stopped to ask you to come to dinner tomorrow night, Chet."

Now here was a switch. "Yeah? Where?"

"At my house."

Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. "Your house? What's the occasion?"

She manufactured a smile. "Why don't you come and see? Perhaps I can use someone as foresighted as you seem to be."

"At the post office?"

She stood up. "Call me in the morning and let me know." She picked up her bag and walked toward the door. Her movements weren't as fluid as I remembered them. I was beginning to think Blaze really had worked her over. If so, it was the first time I'd been in agreement with him since I'd hit town.

Since Lucille was no Campfire Girl, the dinner invitation had to mean one of two things. Either Franklin was so crazy mad he was willing to try to drop a ton on me right in her house, or Franklin had given her such a hard way to go the blonde was looking for reinforcements to get her ass away from Franklin. I couldn't see much nourishment for me in either setup.

Of course if it was Franklin and the blonde who had short-circuited Bunny—

I'd have to give the dinner invitation more thought.

Out at Hazel's cabin I walked from the bathroom to the bedroom and looked down at her tastefully attired in one-thirty-second of a sheet. "Come on and let's take a shower, big stuff," I said.

She yawned, then stretched mightily. The effect was spectacular. "You must have otter blood in you, man," she complained drowsily. "The last two nights I've been in and out of that shower with you until my corns are waterlogged. Why don't you just tumble on down here and relax your—"

I reached down and goosed her. She bounded from the bed to the middle of the room with a strangled yelp. Hazel was touchy. I aimed my thumb at her again, and she flew into the bathroom. I herded her into the glassed-in shower compartment and turned on the needle spray. We each took soap and in silence began to lather each other. The water hissed softly while the single off-center fluorescent light made sleek flesh dazzlingly brilliant, and my hands glided gently over slippery body contours. It was a moment out of a lifetime. We stayed in the shower a long time.

I stepped out at last and grabbed a towel. I handed one to Hazel, still in the shower. She buried her wet red head in the towel. I reached in behind her and flipped the shower regulator over to full cold.

"Oooooooohohohohl" It was a yell that would have backed off a catamount. Hazel boomed out of the shower enclosure like a fullback in an open field. She ran right over me I was laughing so hard when she turned and came after me, I couldn't defend myself. She got me down and banged my head enthusiastically on the tile. I couldn't get her off me until I got into her ribs and tickled. She squealed indignantly and rolled away.

Several more wet towels and a couple of cigarettes later we were stretched out on the bed, the firefly glow of cigarettes the room's only light. Beside me I could hear Hazel's deep, even breathing. She reached up over me to stub out her cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table, then trailed her hand lightly along my body as she dropped back beside me with a sigh. "You don't happen to think you're pretty far out reaching for sensations, Horseman?" she asked in her rich voice.

"You can tell your grandchildren you did it under water."

She laughed, then sobered. "That parlay breaks down with the first dog out of the box, Chet. Children come before grandchildren, unless they've repealed a law of nature."

I didn't like what I thought I heard in her voice, so I changed the subject. "I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but I'm invited out to dinner."

Hazel came up on one elbow. "The blonde?"

"In living color."

I could see the outline of her features but not her expression as I took a final drag on my cigarette. "Chet," she began, then hesitated as though wondering whether to continue. "I don't want to know your business, and I hope I'm not jealous of Lucille Grimes, but there's something I think you ought to know." She stopped again, and it was a full minute before she continued. "Blaze Franklin is asking questions about you all over town."

Instinct is a wonderful thing. I didn't have a stitch on, but my hand was up instantly, reaching for the butt of the Smith & Wesson—in its shoulder holster in the next room with my clothes. "Like what kind of questions is he asking?"

"Where you came from. What you're doing here. Where you lived before. How much talking you do about yourself." Hazel's voice was quiet. "I don't want you to think
I'm
prying, Chet. I just thought you ought to know."

"Don't think I don't appreciate it, baby."