We'll Share A Double Funeral

Chapter 9

When Sheila Weston turned off the highway and began the descent to the river, she quickly realized that Cab Calhoun’s warning she could have problems became a disagreeable fact.

Once Sheila had made up her mind to do something, nothing, no matter the difficulties, would deter her. She was determined to talk to her husband.

When only ten years of age, she had driven her father’s jeep around his extensive ranch, much to the amusement and admiration of his cattle hands.

She had heard one of the men say to another, “That’s a real hellion.” She had smiled with pride, as she was now smiling to herself, remembering those words.

So, okay, she was then a real hellion, and a hellion she would remain.

Skillfully, she maneuvered the jeep through the pools, the mud and the slime.

She felt the steamy heat pressing down on her. She had taken the precaution to smear her face and hands with anti-mosquito cream so the buzzing swarm didn’t bother her.

Eventually, she reached the big quagmire that had bogged down the Toyota.

Seeing it, she stopped her crawl forward and stared at the mess of water and thick mud. Would the jeep cope? If she got bogged down, she would be in real trouble. She got out of the jeep and walked to the edge of the quagmire. She examined the ground. Either side of this swamp was firm ground. She nodded to herself. Returning to the jeep, she engaged the four-wheel drive, edged the jeep forward so the off-side wheels got a grip on the firm ground and moved forward, patiently taking her time.

The on-side wheels sank into the quagmire, but the off-side wheels took hold.

Holding her breath, feeling sweat running down her face and back, she slightly accelerated. She had to use all her strength to keep the jeep from sliding. She could hear mud and water churning under her, then, with a jerk, the jeep came through and she was clear.

While Sheila was continuing the drive down to the fishing lodge, finding the road much easier now to cope with, the telephone bell rang on Grace Adams’s desk.

With a work load spread out on her desk, she snatched up the receiver with an impatient exclamation.

“What is it?”

“Mr Gene Franklin is calling, Miss Adams,” her secretary said. “Okay to put him through?”

“Go ahead.” There was a click, and Franklin came on the line.

“Hello there, Grace,” he said. “I guess S. S. H. has left by now.”

“He’s in Hollywood. What is it?”

“Bad news, I’m afraid.”

“That’s something I could well do without,”

“Yes. Perry’s wife is joining him at the fishing lodge.”

“God almighty!” Grace exploded. “How do you know?”

“It was the merest chance. I flew down to Jacksonville yesterday to get Perry to sign the contract and I ran into Sheila. She told me she intended to surprise Perry and spend a couple of weeks with him. I knew that this was the last thing S. S. H. would want. It was pouring with rain, so I arranged to put her up at my motel, gave her dinner, and for a nickel she would have jumped into bed with me. It looked fine until I began to sell her the idea she’d be wiser to leave Perry alone and go home, then she turned ugly. Nothing short of knocking her on the head and kidnapping her would have worked. No one, repeat no one, including S. S. H. can handle this obstinate little bitch.”

“So you’re telling me she’s with him?”

“She must be. The road conditions are bad. She rented a jeep and left about half an hour ago. With luck, she could get bogged down, but it’s my bet she will get to Perry.”

Grace Adams drew in a long, exasperated breath. “You know what this means? There’ll be no movie! With her bothering Perry, he won’t do any work.”

“Why did the goddam sucker marry that little bitch?”

“We won’t go into that. I’ll contact S. S. H. He’ll love it!” and she slammed down the receiver.

Feeling triumphant, Sheila steered the jeep along the narrow, mud-soaked road, driving slowly and carefully. Another ten minutes’ driving brought her in sight of the river. She smiled to herself. A hellion? Again she smiled.

Obstacles were made to surmount! She nodded. How right! Then she saw the fishing lodge. She recognized it from Perry’s description.

Here I am, she thought, then, unaware that she was being watched by Hollis perched in the tree, she steered the jeep to the front door and cut the engine.

She sat for a long moment, looking at the lodge. Well, she thought, it is certainly primitive. It flashed through her mind whether she would be able to put up with living there for a couple of weeks. It would be utterly dull, utterly isolated. If she could not stand it, she told herself, she could drive to Miami where the bright lights always beckoned. But right at this moment she felt the need to have Perry’s arms around her, to sit with him and talk about herself.

He was the only one who would listen. All her women friends only half listened, waiting for a chance to jump in and tell her their troubles. Her men friends never listened. They nodded, smiled with sympathy and waited for the chance to tell her what great guys they were. But not Perry. He always listened and understood.

She jumped out of the jeep and ran to the front door of the lodge.

There was a heavy iron handle. What a surprise for Perry! she thought. She would take him to bed the moment she had had a bath. Then, lying in his arms, she would tell him about this bastard Hart and the private eye. She would even tell him about that awful Lucan.

She turned the door handle to find the door locked. She now saw the curtains were drawn at the three big windows.

Was Perry there? she wondered. God! What a flop if she had come all this way and he wasn’t there! She rapped on the door. Waited, then rapped again.

She heard the lock click back and her face lit up.

Perry!

The door opened.

The man she longed to talk to, the only man who understood and was kind to her stood before her.

The expression on his white drawn face sent a chill through her.

“Oh, God, no!” he exclaimed. “Oh, Sheila! What are you doing here?” His expression was something right out of a horror movie. It was all there: fear, terrible tension and despair.

“Perry, darling!” She rushed to him and threw her arms around him, hugging him. “I know I shouldn’t have come, but I needed you so much. Darling, tell me you are glad to see me!” As she clung to him, over his shoulder, feeling his body trembling, she saw Jim Brown, standing just behind her husband, an evil smile on his face and a gun in his hand.

Perry felt fingers, like steel claws, clamp on his shoulders. With a violence he didn’t think possible, he felt himself thrown aside.

He thudded against the wall of the lobby. Sheila, still clinging to him, went with him. Together, they slid to the floor.

Jim Brown kicked the front door shut and pushed the bolts home. He moved away, his gun now back in its holster, and watched Perry and Sheila disentangle themselves and shakily stand up.

“What the hell is this?” Sheila shrilled. “Who’s this jerk? What’s happening?”

More slowly, despair in his heart, Perry straightened up. He looked helplessly at Sheila, seeing her enraged expression, and he said quickly, “Careful, darling. This man is dangerous.”

“You said it, buster,” Brown snarled. “Now, this is your wife... right? She’s stuck her pretty nose where it isn’t wanted... right? So no tricks, buster.” He grinned evilly. “You two could share a double funeral.”

With an effort, Perry composed himself. “Okay, Jim. There’ll be no tricks.” Brown nodded.

“That’s what I like about you, Perry. You’re a guy I can deal with. Right. Take your wife in there and spell it out to her. I’ve things to do in the kitchen. You’ve got king-sized prawns. I am good with them. We’ll all have them for supper.”

“What is this?” Sheila screamed. “Who is this man? What’s going on?”

Perry gently took her arm. “Let’s go in and sit down, Sheila.”

“I want to be alone with you! Get rid of him!”

Brown gave a barking laugh. “She’s real dumb, isn’t she? Get her in there or I’ll kick her in!”

The snarl in his voice scared Sheila. With a long look at him, she let Perry lead her into the big living room. He sat by her side on the settee.

Brown appeared in the doorway.

“No tricks, Perry.”

“No.” Brown nodded, then moved into the kitchen and out of sight.

“Perry! What is this?”

He put his hand on hers. “Don’t talk. Just listen. I am a hostage. Now you, coming here, are also a hostage. This man is being hunted by the police. He killed six people two nights ago. He is as dangerous and vicious as a cobra.”

“Six people?” Sheila stared at him, her eyes round.

“Yes. Now, darling, please listen. He must be some kind of psychopath. The only way we can handle him is to be relaxed and nice to him. When I say nice, I mean don’t say anything that could antagonize him. Do you understand?”

“Do you really mean...?”

“Sheila, be an adult!” The snap in Perry’s voice brought a flush to her face. “This is deadly serious. This lunatic will kill us both if we provide him with the slightest excuse. For God’s sake! Why did you come?”

The steel in her asserted itself. She stiffened, then look directly at him.

“I came because I wanted to talk to you. I became sick of myself and the way I have been acting. I wanted to tell you so many things.”

“Okay. There’ll be time for that. Right now, we have to go along with this man or we’ll finish up dead.” They both paused to listen to Brown’s tuneless whistling.

“Don’t baby me!” Sheila shrilled. “Get rid of this man!”

Perry moved close to her. He slid his arm around her shoulders as the door opened. Jim Brown came in.

“You told her, Perry?”

“I’ve told her.” Sheila was regarding this man as he came in and shut the door. What an ape! she thought. Her eyes ran over his powerful body. His face which scared her, she disregarded, but his body! In spite of being scared, a thought came into her mind what it would be like to get into bed with a brute like this. She felt a tingle of sex run through her. She had never seen such a man. Those square, broad shoulders, the slim waist, those terrifyingly powerful hands!

“Okay,” Brown said. He looked at Sheila. “You take it easy, baby, and we’ll all get along nice. Right?” Sheila nodded.

“You have a job to do, Perry,” Brown said. “You’re going right now to your bank and you’re getting ten thousand bucks in cash, and you will chat up the jerks in the village and find out what the pressure is. Get it?”

Perry jumped to his feet. “No, I’m not leaving my wife alone with you! That is for sure! I’m not going!”

Brown grinned. “Yeah. That’s what you think, but you’ll go. Take a look at this.” He looked around the room, then walked over to an occasional table and picked up a big, heavy pewter ashtray. He balanced it in his hands, staring at Perry. “Watch, buster,” he said.

Effortlessly, as if the heavy ashtray was made of tin foil, he crumpled it, squeezed it and threw the ball of metal at Perry’s feet.

“Let me tell you something,” Brown said softly. “A couple of years ago, I hired a hooker for the night. She was young, but nothing like as pretty as your wife.

“She wanted ten bucks. I had ten bucks, so we went back to her pad and I gave her ten bucks. Then a big black buck appeared and told me to get the hell out. That was putting pressure on me. I told you when people put pressure on me, I hit back. That’s natural, isn’t it? So this big black buck put pressure on me and I hit him. I broke his goddamn neck. The hooker began to scream so I fixed her. I took her head in my hands and squeezed.” He paused to look at Sheila. “You’d better listen, baby. Okay, I squeezed. Know what happened? Her brains came out of her ears. When I squeeze, I squeeze good.”

Sheila shuddered, staring up at Perry who had turned white.

“That’s it, buster,” Brown snarled. “From now on do exactly what I say, otherwise I’m going to take your wife’s head in my hands and I’m going to squeeze her face like some rotten orange. Okay?”

“Perry!” Sheila, now terrified, shrilled, “Do what he says!”

Perry looked around for a weapon. With the courage of despair, with the normal instinct of a man who must protect his mate, he grabbed up a pathetically fragile vase and threw himself at Brown.

Grinning, Brown avoided his clumsy rush and slapped him with his open hand. The cuff sent Perry reeling. Dropping the vase, which smashed to pieces, he lost his balance and landed on the settee.

“Nice try, buster. Next time I’ll use my fist,” Brown said. “Then you’ll know what it is to be hit. You going or am I going to break your neck and squash your babe’s face?”

Sheila gave a soft scream, then put her hands to her mouth. Perry shook his head. The slap had stunned him. He knew it was just a slap, but the force of it horrified him. He remembered this ape of a man lifting the car clear of the quagmire. This brutal, ape-like strength was beyond imagination.

“Now, listen, Perry,” Brown said. “You’re scared I’m going to screw your wife as soon as you go.” He nodded. “That’s something I can understand. You go. I’m not going to touch her. We’ll sit here and wait for you to come back with the money. Play straight with me, and I’ll play straight with you. Get the money, find out what the pressure is, and you don’t need to worry about your wife. That’s a promise. Okay?”

“You’ll leave her alone? You won’t touch her?” Perry said getting unsteadily to his feet.

“So long as she sits still, doesn’t make trouble, I don’t touch her, but if she gets tricky she’ll get a slap.” Brown grinned. “Fair enough?”

Listening, Sheila felt a powerful sexual urge sweep through her. Looking at this man, she imagined him taking her. She imagined him entering her. She imagined gripping those terrifyingly muscular shoulders.

“Sheila, darling, I’ll have to go,” Perry said. “If Jim tells me he won’t touch you, I’m prepared to trust him. Now, for God’s sake, do just what he says... please.”

Sheila forced a smile. “I will. Before you go, I would like my baggage. Would you get the two bags?”

Looking at her, Perry felt a qualm. She had now completely relaxed. Her eyes had lit up. She was once more the Sheila he had had to cope with since they had married.

“Get her bags, Perry,” Brown said.

Hollis, in his treetop, watched Perry come out into the steamy hot sunshine. He watched Perry take two suitcases from the jeep, then return to the lodge.

“Honey, please take them to our room,” Sheila called.

Perry carried the bags up the stairs. Brown sat down, staring thoughtfully at Sheila who was smiling.

Perry came down the stairs and stood in the doorway of the living room.

“Okay,” Brown said. “Get the money. While you’re down there, get some onions and eggs. Fill the jeep with gas. When I shove off, I’ll use the jeep. Okay?”

“Yes.” Perry looked at Sheila. “Darling, it’ll take a couple of hours. Please remember what I’ve said.”

“Of course.” She smiled. “I’m not scared. If Jim says he won’t touch me, why should I be scared?” Perry hesitated, then nodded and went out to the jeep.

Hollis watched Perry get into the Jeep, turn it and head towards the river road, leading to the highway. He switched on his radio.

“Sheriff?”

“Hearing you.”

“A new development. Weston has just gone off in the jeep, heading for Rockville. The road’s still bad, but in the jeep he’ll get there. His wife is in the lodge. What do you make of it?”

“Could be okay. I don’t know. I’ll be on the lookout for him when he arrives.”

“I don’t think it’s okay. I still think Logan is now holding a gun on Mrs Weston. I’m sticking. Keep in touch,” and Hollis switched off.

As soon as Sheila heard the jeep start up and drive away, she smiled at Brown.

“I guess I have to ask your permission, Jim,” she said. “I would like to unpack and take a bath.”

Brown studied her, then nodded. “Go ahead, but no tricks, baby. Right?”

“Will you cut out calling me baby?” Sheila said, getting to her feet. “My name is Sheila.”

“Go take a bath, baby,” Brown said. “Just no tricks.”

Sheila left the living room and climbed the stairs to the double bedroom. She stripped off, ran a bath, then sank into the warm water.

What an ape of a man she thought, feeling an uncontrollable sex urge run through her. So he won’t touch me, huh? She released a soft laugh.

It would be fun to seduce him. Marvelous to lie beneath him. All the other men, including Lucan, didn’t compare with this brute. She had two hours. She remained only for a few minutes in the bath, then she dried herself and went to the big mirror and fixed her hair. She then went into the bedroom, naked, and unlocked her suitcase. She found a flimsy, transparent wrap which she put on. She closed and relocked the suitcase.

She found her heart was thumping and she was breathing fast.

Now, she thought, the big seduction scene! She giggled, feeling lust move through her. She went to the door and called, “Jim! I can’t get my suitcase open. Come up, please, and fix it for me.” She moved to the big bed and waited. She had her back to the sunlit window and knew the light was shining through her flimsy wrap. No man, she told herself, could resist this temptation, let alone an ape like Brown.

Brown appeared in the doorway, his blunt features expressionless.

“Sorry to bother you, Jim. I’m an idiot with locks,” Sheila said, giving her most seductive smile.

“Is that right?” Brown said, still remaining in the doorway. She was aware he was eyeing her near naked body.

She felt moisture gathering in her loins.

As he still remained motionless, she said impatiently, her voice a little shrill, “We haven’t much time. Don’t just stand there!” She opened her wrap so he could see her body. “Come to me!”

“You deaf or something? Didn’t you hear I told Perry if he played straight with me, I’d play straight with him?” Brown said. “Are you a goddamn dope? Now, I’ll tell you something. To me, you are no better than the worst hooker I’ve ever screwed. You are, to me, like the mess a dog leaves on the sidewalk. Even if I hadn’t told Perry I wouldn’t touch you, I wouldn’t touch you now!” Turning, he moved to the head of the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

Perry Weston drove down Rockville’s main street and pulled up outside the bank. The time was now 3:00. There were few people on the street. Most of the citizens had done their shopping, and he was thankful that all the old folks were sitting in the shade of the trees, dozing or boring each other with small talk. He entered the bank which was deserted except for an elderly woman, seated behind the counter, making entries in a ledger. She looked up, stared, then smiled. “It’s Mr Weston, isn’t it?”

“That’s right, Mr Allsop around?”

“Why, of course.” She slid her bulk off the stool. “I’ll get him, Mr Weston.”

Fred Allsop, the manager of the bank, a small, thin man in his late fifties, came bustling out of his office. “Why, Mr Weston! What a pleasure!” They shook hands “You are here for a vacation?”

Perry was continually thinking of Sheila. Could he trust that ape of a man? He must get back as quickly as he could.

“Well, no. I’m on a trip, Mr Allsop. I need money. I’m in a hurry.”

“Mr Weston, we are here for service. We haven’t seen you for a long time. What can I do?”

“I want ten thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills.”

Allsop blinked. “Well, you haven’t that amount in your account, Mr Weston. That’s quite a sum.”

With an effort, Perry controlled his impatience.

“I need the money, Mr Allsop,” he said, his voice sharp. “If you want, call my New York bank. I’m in a hurry!”

Startled by the bark in Perry’s voice, Allsop said hurriedly, “I’ll arrange it, Mr Weston. Ten thousand in one hundred dollar bills?”

“That’s what I said. I have some shopping to do. I’ll be back in a quarter of an hour. Okay?”

“Yes, Mr Weston.”

These small time bankers! Perry thought as he left the bank and crossed over to the self-service store. As he entered, Sheriff Ross moved across the street from his office and walked into the bank.

“Fred,” he said. “What did Mr Weston want?”

Allsop hesitated. “Well, Jeff, maybe it’s not your business, but if you want to know, he’s asking for ten thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills.”

“Can you stall?”

“I told him I’d fix it. He was most insistent. What’s going on?”

“Never mind, Fred. Give him the money,” and leaving Allsop staring in bewilderment, Ross, worried, went across the street and leaned against the wooden rail beside the self-service store.

Perry bought a dozen eggs, two lettuces and a sack of onions. As he came out into the steamy sun he saw Ross. His heart skipped a beat as Ross came over with an outstretched hand.

“Shopping, huh?” Ross said. “Nice to see you around Mr Weston.”

Perry shook and said, “Yeah. It’s great to be back. Nice to see you.” And then, remembering Brown’s orders to find out what the pressure was, containing his impatience to return to the fishing lodge, he went on, “Got a little business with the bank. Suppose we have a beer together, Jeff?”

“Sure. I’ll be over at Tom’s bar,” Ross said, and nodding, he started down the street.

Perry put his purchases in the jeep and then entered the bank.

“All ready for you, Mr Weston,” Allsop said. “Just here.” Perry signed the form and picked up the envelope.

“Many thanks. Your service is terrific.” He shook hands, then, leaving the bank, he locked the envelope away in the jeep, then walked down the street to Tom’s bar.

This was a bar which he had frequented a number of times when he had first moved into the fishing lodge. The fat, jovial looking barman beamed at him as he entered. “Mr Weston! My pleasure!”

“Nice to see you again, Tom,” Perry said and shook hands. He looked around. There were only a few people sitting at tables at this hour, but all recognized him, touched their hats, nodding a welcome.

Perry saw Sheriff Ross. “Two beers, Tom,” Perry said and crossed the room, forcing a smile for each man who was giving him a welcome. He sat by Ross’s side.

Ross eyed him. He could see Perry was tense.

“I can’t stay long,” Perry said as Tom brought the beers. “I have my wife with me. I don’t want to leave her too long alone.”

“I guess.” Ross sipped his beer. “All okay at the lodge?”

“No problems.” Perry stared at the beer in his glass. No problems? What an understatement!

“Mary was wondering if you need her, Mr Weston,” Ross said. “As soon as the road dries out, she could come down and clean up for you.”

“No, thanks. My wife can handle it. Give Mary my love.”

“Sure will.” Ross nodded. “You writing a movie?”

“Yep.” Perry forced himself to sound casual. “This killer. He gave me an idea. Any news of him? Has he been caught?”

“No. There’s a big manhunt on for him.” Ross leaned back in his chair. “The police believe he is now somewhere in Miami.”

“Do you think he’ll get away?”

“He’ll give us a run for our money, Mr Weston, but sooner or later, we’ll catch up with him.”

“I guess so.” Perry sipped his beer. He desperately wanted to confide in this big, calm looking man, but he knew that if there was police action he and now Sheila would be the first to die.

“I’m working on this idea, Jeff. It was you coming to my place checking to see if this killer was hiding in one of the fishing lodges that sparked me off.”

“Is that right, Mr Weston?” Ross remained relaxed in expression, but mentally very alert. “I guess that happens to men with your imagination.”

“When you and your deputy left, I thought what would happen if this man was hiding in my place. From what you told me he is a nut-case and very dangerous. I tried to imagine how I would react if he appeared with a gun.” Perry paused to sip his beer, then forced a laugh. “It began to intrigue me.”

“Sure. I see that. What did you imagine, Mr Weston?”

Perry hesitated. Was he talking too much? He knew Ross was no fool, but what he had said so far must be acceptable without causing Ross to call out the Nation Guard.

“Quite a situation for a movie,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “But I saw it would be static. You know? A criminal and a writer holed up in a lonely fishing lodge. So far so good, but then what? Then the writer’s wife arrives. He didn’t expect her. Now the plot comes alive. This man now has two hostages. That’s a big step forward. I’m still working on the idea.”

“Sounds fine to me,” Ross said. “Yeah. I’ve seen all your movies, Mr Weston. This one could be the tops.”

“Glad you think so.” Perry finished his beer. “The trick now is how to finish the movie. You see these two are hostages. If the police come to the rescue, the killer will kill them, then fight it out until he himself is killed. I can’t allow this to happen. This might not work out.”

Ross was now convinced that Chet Logan was hiding in Weston’s lodge, but he gave nothing away as he finished his beer.

“I could make a suggestion, Mr Weston. Of course, I’m not in your trade. I’m thinking as a cop.”

In spite of trying to be casual, Perry slightly stiffened and Ross, watching him, saw his reaction.

“Any idea is better than none,” Perry said. “What’s the suggestion, Jeff?”

Ross thought for a long moment, then said, “The setup is your character has a homicidal killer in his lonely fishing lodge?”

How right! Perry thought, but merely nodded.

“Two cops arrive. Your character knows if he gives them the nod, there’ll be a shootout. Right?”

Again Perry nodded.

“These two cops suspect what is happening. They see your character is in danger so they leave as Hollis and I left. Now, suppose the younger cop happens to have served in the marines as an anti-sniper. Suppose he returns to the scene, climbs a tree overlooking the lodge, and waits.”

Perry drew in a long, slow breath. He realized that Ross knew Brown was hiding in his lodge. He thought of Hank Hollis, lean, tough, every inch an ex-marine. Was he really already up a tree, watching?

“Sounds good,” he said, aware his voice was husky. “Then what?”

“Well, here is a tricky situation, Mr Weston, but I guess with your know-how and for a movie, you could get around it.”

Now it was Ross’s turn to hesitate, then, shrugging, he went on, “This killer had murdered six people in one night. If he is caught, he’ll go away for thirty years which doesn’t mean a damn. He could be paroled after serving only eight or less years so he’d be loose again to kill more innocent people. The cop up the tree would treat this killer as he treated murderous Vietnamese snipers. That’s against the law, Mr Weston. As cops, we must arrest this man for trial, but this cop isn’t going to bother his head about that. So he kills this man.”

Perry stared down at his hands. “I don’t think that would jell, Jeff. It would put the police in a bad light.”

“Sure, but you could think up some solution. Suppose this killer spots the cop and fires at him, then the cop is justified in killing him.” Perry felt a cold chill run through him.

“I understand.”

“There’s another trick you will have to think up, Mr Weston,” Ross said quietly. “Your character and no one else can do it. Your character has to find a pretext to persuade the killer to show himself... to come out into the open so the cop in his tree can nail him. It’s got to be a certain shot. If the cop fires and misses, the killer will dive for cover and your character and his wife are as good as dead. So somehow you have to think up an excuse for your character to entice the killer out into the open.”

Perry thought of Brown. Entice him out into the open. What plausible reason could he give Brown to persuade him to show himself?

Watching him, Ross saw his look of despair.

“Think about it, Mr Weston,” he said. “There’s no hurry.”

“Yes.” Perry abruptly stood up. “I must be getting back. This has been a very helpful talk, Jeff. Thanks.”

Ross got to his feet and the two men shook hands. They stared at each other for a long moment, then walked across the road to the jeep.