Vanishing Ladies

Chapter four

You get used to hookers in the 23rd Precinct.

You get used to them because they’re a part of the scenery. They roam all over the precinct. They sit in bars, and they stand on street comers or in hallways, and after a while you get to know everyone who’s hustling. ‘Hello, Ida,’ you’ll say, or ‘Hello, Fritzie’, or like that. You watch them to make sure they don’t hustle in the bars because you can revoke a man’s license for that. You watch them, too, to make sure their old man isn’t a mugger who’s just looking for a sailor from downtown, a john with a few sheets to the wind. Prostitution in our city isn’t government-protected the way it is in some places. But the vice cops don’t always overexert themselves and a lot of policemen feel that sex is a thing best let alone.

The hookers in the 23rd Precinct don’t look at all like movie versions of ‘loose women’. They don’t wear skin-tight satin dresses, and they don’t plaster make-up all over their faces, and they don’t swing red purses, and they very rarely walk with suggestive wiggles. They’re usually pretty conservatively and stylishly dressed. They wear lipstick and once in a while some face powder. Generally, the younger ones look like clean-cut high school girls except when they’re dressed up to visit a friend downtown, on which occasions they accumulate years with the high-heeled pumps they don. Sex with the hookers in the 23rd is a business. You may find their talk a little rough because they speak of their business in terms which have become connected with it over the years — but only among themselves. With their gentlemen friends, their sex talk is usually refined and probably educational.

I only mention the hookers in my precinct to point up a comparison.

The girl on my bed, you see, in cabin number 12 at Sullivan’s Point was obviously a hooker.

She was a redhead.

Her face was ghastly white with the covering layers of make-up it carried.

Her lips were a garish red, the lipstick extended above and beyond the lip line to exaggerate the size of her mouth.

Her dress was extremely low cut, and it was obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra.

The dress was purple. It was not lavender, not violet, but purple. The brightest, gaudiest, shiniest purple I’d ever seen in my life.

Her legs were crossed, and the dress was pulled to a few shades above her knees.

She wore no stockings.

She wore black patent high-heeled pumps with ankle straps.

She jiggled one foot, and there was a gold ankle bracelet on that foot.

If she was more than seventeen years old, I’d have been willing to eat all of Mike Barter’s gravel driveway.

We looked at each other for a few minutes, and then she said, ‘Hi.’ She drew out the word, gave it a throaty sound, tried to pack into that single word all the allure of Cleopatra floating down the Nile on a barge.

‘You’ve got the wrong cabin, haven’t you?’ I said.

‘Have I?’ she asked. She was still the femme fatale, throwing her curves with all the subtlety of a Little League pitcher.

‘I think so,’ I answered. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t know what or who this little girl was, and I didn’t particularly care. I was sleepy. I wanted to go to bed. Alone.

‘I don’t think so,’ she answered.

‘Well, I’d enjoy kicking the problem around with you,’ I said, ‘but I’m really too tired to argue.’

‘Would you enjoy kicking it around with me?’ she asked, a knowing smile on her mouth.

‘I think the best way to solve this,’ I said, ‘is to run up to the office a minute. If you wandered into the wrong cabin...’

‘You look young,’ the girl said, ‘but you can’t be that young.’ She studied me for a moment. ‘I like blonds,’ she added. ‘Blond-haired men send me.’

She was still blithely unaware of the fact that I wasn’t interested, nor did she fully realize just how far I intended to send her.

‘Little girl,’ I said, ‘I don’t think you un—’

‘Blanche,’ she corrected, raising one eyebrow.

‘All right, Blanche. Why don’t you go home, Blanche?’

‘I want to stay here.’

‘So do I.’

‘That can be arranged.’

‘No, Blanche, it can’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I snore. I’d keep you awake.’

‘That’s the whole idea,’ she said.

‘Honey...’

‘See,’ she said, leaping on the word, ‘you’re getting affectionate already.’

‘I’ll get so affectionate in the next ten minutes that I’m liable to kick you out of here on your ass.’

Blanche giggled. ‘That sounds like fun.’

‘Look,’ I said, ‘you’ve drawn a blank. Chalk it up to experience and go home.’

‘I’m staying,’ she said flatly.

‘I’d hate like hell to really scare you,’ I said.

‘Go ahead. Really scare me.’

‘I’m a cop.’

She studied me levelly for a moment and then said, ‘Sure. And I’m a robber. Let’s play cops and robbers.’

‘Do I have to show the tin?’

‘The what?’

I sighed heavily. ‘Blanche, let’s play this straight. I don’t know who steered you to this cabin, but whoever did made a mistake. I didn’t order anything. I’m not interested. I’m tired, I’m sleepy, I don’t like redheads, and I don’t like seventeen-year-old kids who should be home reading comic books. Now don’t force me to get tough, and don’t force me—’

‘I wouldn’t dream of forcing you,’ she said coyly.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ I exploded.

‘Now you’re swearing.’

‘How old are you, Blanche?’

‘Why?’

‘I’m interested.’

‘I figured you’d eventually get interested. I’m over eighteen. Stop worrying.’

‘When were you born?’

‘What?’

‘When were you born?’

Blanche chewed her lip, thinking furiously. Then, at last, she said, ‘Eighteen years and three months ago.’

‘Give or take a few.’

‘You’re a real worry wart. Have I asked you how old you are?’

‘Where do you live, Blanche?’

‘In town.’

‘Sullivan’s Corners?’

‘The Corners? I wouldn’t be caught dead there.’

‘Where then?’

‘Davistown.’ She paused. ‘It’s a real big city.’

‘I’m sure it is.’

‘It is,’ she said, suddenly sparking with adolescent rebellion. ‘How would you know? You ever been there?’

‘No,’ I admitted.

‘Then okay.’

‘Okay.’

‘If we’re going to sit and talk, let’s make ourselves comfortable,’ she said, her anger suddenly dissipating.

‘We’re not going to sit and talk,’ I told her. ‘I’m going to sleep. You’re going home to that huge metropolis of yours.’

‘I couldn’t get there tonight if I wanted to. I haven’t got a car.’ She reached behind her for the zipper on her dress.

‘Hold it right there, Blanche,’ I said. I fished into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. I let it fall open to where my shield was pinned to the leather. Blanche studied it with mild interest.

‘A detective, huh?’ she asked casually.

‘I said I was a cop.’

‘So what? Are you on duty?’

‘Twenty-four hours a day.’

‘Don’t give me that bull,’ she said. She looked at the shield again. ‘You ain’t even from this state. You got no authority here.’

‘I imagine I can pull a little weight with the local police,’ I said, remembering my earlier brush with the trooper and the j.p. and doubting my statement even as I said it.

‘You think so?’ Blanche said, raising the eyebrow again, her voice edged with sarcasm.

‘I think so,’ I bluffed.

‘What would you charge me with?’

‘Soliciting.’

‘Anybody in this room expose her privates?’

‘Not yet,’ I said.

‘Then climb off your soapbox.’ She paused and then grinned. ‘Your scare didn’t scare me. You’re a cop, okay. Ain’t cops human?’

‘We’re human.’

‘Good. Let’s start acting that way.’

We both fell silent. I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I was trying to figure a new approach. I suppose I could have picked her up and thrown her out but she was, after all, a kid — and I’m not in the habit of knocking kids around.

‘Let’s take it from the top,’ I said.

‘Let’s.’

‘One: what do you want here?’

‘I thought that was obvious.’

‘Two: how much?’ The reason I asked this was simple. If I could establish her price, I was willing to give her the money to get rid of her.

Blanche grinned. ‘First time, the treat’s on me,’ she said.

‘Oh?’

‘It begins to sound interestinger and interestinger, doesn’t it?’ she asked.

‘It begins to sound fishier and fishier,’ I told her. ‘Why me?’

‘Why not? I told you. I like blond men.’

‘Blond cops?’

‘Blond men. Cops are men, same as any others,’

‘And your business is men, huh?’

‘My business is men.’

‘You’re a little young to be in business for yourself, aren’t you?’

‘American initiative,’ she said. ‘Supply and demand. There’s a big demand.’

‘Then why give it away?’

‘Mister, you should learn never to look a gift horse, you know what I mean?’

‘Sister,’ I said, ‘you should learn about leading horses to water.’

‘Huh?’

‘Forget it.’

‘Good. I’m glad that’s settled.’ She unzipped her dress and started shrugging out of it.

‘The minute that hits the floor, I dial the local cops,’ I said.

‘The dress hit the floor, and she stepped out of it, grinning. ‘Ain’t no phone,’ she told me.

She was surprisingly well-built. The tight dress had somehow made her look thinner than she actually was. She owned good hips and firm thighs, and since she hadn’t removed her high-heeled shoes her legs were long and shapely and tapering. She wore only white nylon bikini panties, no bra. Her flesh, below the neck, had a healthy glow to it. Her face, covered with make-up, looked sickly against it.

‘Nice?’ she asked, still grinning.

‘Lovely,’ I said. ‘Put on your dress and get the hell out.’

‘I’m staying,’ she said. ‘Let’s get that straight. I’m not leaving. I’m sleeping in this cabin tonight.’ She tossed her red tresses in the direction of the bed. ‘In that bed.’

‘My fiancée is in the cabin next door,’ I said.

‘She scares me, too,’ Blanche said.

‘She’s a big girl. She’s liable to be a little rougher with you than I care to be.’

‘I can handle big girls and big boys too,’ Blanche said. She looked at me archly and said, ‘Admit it. I’m a nice package, ain’t I?’

‘Sure,’ I said.

‘And I came gift-wrapped. God, but some men are lucky.’

‘Go wash your face,’ I said.

‘I always do,’ she answered, and she wiggled over to the sink. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched her, somewhat bewildered. I honestly didn’t know what to do next. I was toying with the idea of taking a blanket and going to sleep in the woods outside. I was also fighting to keep my eyes open. The water splashed into the sink with monotonous regularity. Finally, Blanche began drying herself. When she pulled the towel away from her face, she looked more like fifteen than the eighteen she claimed. I began to feel like a father about to hear a recounting of his daughter’s evening at the junior high school prom.

‘Clean?’ she asked.

‘Very clean.’

‘I hate that junk on my face.’

‘Then why do you wear it?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. She seemed to be thinking this over for a moment. ‘What’s your name, anyway?’

‘Phil,’ I said.

‘You don’t look like a Phil. There’s a Phil in Davistown but he’s a jerk. You look more like a... a Richard.’

‘That’s a good name,’ I said.

‘Sure it is. Phil’s okay, too. Don’t take offense.’

‘I didn’t.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Well, here we are, Phil. Alone at last.’

‘Blanche,’ I said, ‘you’re going to be very much alone in the next few minutes. I’m taking a blanket and going outside.’

‘You’ll get eaten up alive. We’ve got mosquitoes here that break the sound barrier.’

‘I’ll chance it.’

‘You’d be safer in here.’

‘I prefer the mosquitoes.’

‘We can work this out, you know. I’m really not that horrible.’

‘You’re very nice,’ I said.

‘But?’

‘But I’m sleepy.’

‘I’ll let you sleep. Get undressed, go ahead. I won’t bother you.’

‘Why don’t you be a good kid and get out of here? Come on, huh? Let’s cut the nonsense.’

‘I can’t, Phil,’ she said seriously.

‘Why not?’

She looked at me hard and long, the guileless penetrating stare of a very young girl. And then she shook her head slightly and the grin came back, the hard grin of a professional prostitute. ‘Do you sleep in pajamas?’ she asked, the eyebrow cocked. ‘I’ll bet you’re cute.’

‘You’re not leaving?’

‘Sorry,’ she said, impishly.

‘I suppose I could go wake up Barter and tell him there’s a big grinning woodchuck in my cabin.’

‘If I know Mike, he’ll come join us,’ Blanche said, grinning.

‘The boys back at the 23rd will never believe this,’ I said, shaking my head. I sighed, got off the bed and then took one of the blankets from where it was folded near the foot. Blanche sidled over to the door and leaned against it. I turned with the blanket in my hands.

‘Let’s don’t play games,’ I said.

‘Let’s do,’ she answered.

I took a few steps toward her. ‘Kid, I’m being very nice,’ I said. ‘If you weren’t so young, and if I weren’t so kind, I’d kick you out just the way you are and give the mosquitoes a feast. I’m being nice, you understand? I’m leaving instead. I paid for this cabin, but I’m leaving. So don’t start playing games because I’m mighty damn tired and I’m liable to snap.’

‘You look good when you get sore,’ Blanche said.

‘Get away from the door,’ I said tiredly.

‘Make me,’ she said, grinning.

I didn’t grin back. ‘Get away from the door,’ I said.

Blanche tossed her head and grinned. I reached out for her, dropping the blanket. She ducked inside my extended hand then threw herself against me and wrapped her arms around my waist, locking her fingers behind me in the small of my back.

‘It’s not so bad when you get close to it,’ she said. She lifted her face. ‘Why don’t you kiss me? My face is clean.’

‘Your mind isn’t,’ I said. I reached behind me and broke the lock of her hands. She tried to reach the door again, but I side-swiped her with my arm, and she reeled back into the cabin. I picked up the blanket and headed for the door again.

‘You’re strong,’ she said softly.

‘Good night,’ I said.

‘Wait. Phil, please. Wait.’ Her voice sounded very small. I turned to face her.

‘What is it?’

‘Don’t... don’t go yet. Please.’

‘We’ve been through this already.’

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have... this isn’t right, what I’m doing.’

‘Damn right it isn’t.’

‘I guess... I guess I’m not so good at it. I should have... have made you want to stay.’

‘Don’t underestimate yourself,’ I said.

‘Look, Phil... I... please, I have to talk to someone. Please stay a minute.’

‘Go ahead. Talk.’

‘Just like that?’

‘How else?’

‘Do you... do you have anything to drink?’

‘No.’

‘Oh. I... I thought I could use a drink.’

‘You probably can.’

‘Do you hate me?’

‘Not particularly.’

‘A little?’

‘Not even a little. My father taught me to look for good in people. It gets difficult sometimes, but I still try.’

Blanche laughed a short, hard laugh. ‘Do you see anything good in me?’

‘I see a girl of sixteen or seventeen who’s in ‘way over her head.’

‘I’m really eighteen, Phil.’ Blanche paused. ‘Well, not really. I’ll be eighteen next month.’

‘You’re still in over your head. Why don’t you be smart about this, Blanche? Why don’t you go back to Davistown and get married and have kids and raise petunias?’

‘I don’t know if that’s what I want.’

‘Who sent you here tonight?’

‘I just came. Of my own accord.’

‘How’d you know I was in this cabin?’

‘I saw you when you went to the shower. So I came over.’

‘Why?’

‘I wanted to.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Where were you when you saw me going to the shower?’

‘Cabin number three. That’s in the back.’

‘What were you doing there?’

‘I took the cabin for the night.’

‘Why?’

‘I wanted a place to sleep.’

‘What made you change your mind?’

‘About sleeping?’ Blanche shrugged. ‘I saw you, I guess.’

‘And?’

‘And you looked nice. I figured I’d spend the night with you?’

‘Free?’

‘Yes.’

‘How long have you been hooking?’

‘About a year now.’

‘Why’d you start?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You must be doing pretty well if you can afford to be so generous with your time.’

‘I told you. I liked you. I saw you and I liked you.’

‘I could hardly see my hand in front of my face out there. But you saw me and liked me, huh?’

‘I saw you when you stepped outside. In the light.’

‘That’s an amazing feat, considering the fact that I turned out the light before I left the cabin.’

Blanche was silent.

‘Now what’s the real story?’ I asked.

‘I... I was frightened,’ she said.

‘Of what?’

‘Just the darkness, I guess, I saw you...’

‘We’re back to that again, huh?’

‘I saw you when you first pulled up, damnit!’

‘Then you know there’s a girl with me?’

Blanche hesitated. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘I know there’s a girl with you.’

‘But that didn’t matter, huh?’

‘I figured she was your sister. Hell, she took a separate cabin.’

‘She’s not my sister. We’re going to be married.’

‘Anyway, I was frightened,’ Blanche said. ‘When I saw you... you looked strong. So I came over. I thought... I thought you’d be glad to see me.’ She paused. ‘Weren’t you even a little glad to see me?’

‘No,’ I said flatly.

There was the sound of a high-powered automobile outside. The headlights splashed across the cabin window. Blanche went to the window quickly. She watched for a moment. The car cut its engine, and Blanche let the curtain fall.

‘I’ve got an idea,’ I said.

‘What?’

‘Go back to cabin number three. Sleep well. In the morning if you’re still here, Ann and I will drive you to Davistown. How does that sound?’

‘I think my idea is better. Don’t I tempt you even a little?’

‘You try too hard,’ I said.

‘Yeah,’ she answered noncommittally. She chewed her lower lip, thinking. ‘Can’t we talk a little more? I hate to go back.’

‘If we talk a little more, it’ll be morning,’ I said. ‘Come on, be a good kid.’

‘I suppose you’re right. Besides...’ She was ready to say more, but she cut herself off.

‘You’ll leave?’ I said.

‘Sure. I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble.’

‘No, not at all,’ I said, hoping the relief wasn’t shining out all over my face. ‘Put on your dress, okay? Come on, get dressed.’

Her dress was still lying on the floor, a limp puddle of purple passion. She scooped it up, dusted it off gingerly, and then said, ‘You sure? I’m a nice package.’

‘I’m sure you’re delicious,’ I said. ‘But not tonight.’

‘Josephine,’ she added, and then she giggled and pulled the dress over her head. She smoothed it down over her hips and her thighs, and then turned so that she was facing the wall which divided my cabin from cabin number 11 next door. With her back to me, she said, ‘Zip it up, will you?’

I zipped up the back of her dress.

She turned and backed away from me, moving closer to the wall.

‘Which way do I look better?’ she asked. ‘With or without? Take your time. Examine it carefully.’

I went along with the game. I studied her face, and then I let my eyes drop. When they reached her ankles my eyes stopped. She was standing close to the wall, and I was more interested in what was happening at the base of that wall than in her ankles.

Because close to the exact spot where the wall met the wooden floor, a red puddle was seeping from beneath the wallboards in a slowly widening circle.