The Anatomy of Violence Page 3

  “Ann’s father didn’t.” For a moment I wondered again about the scripts, then I was telling Rich now Ann’s father had been an officer in Jules’ company and embezzled nearly a hundred thousand dollars. Jules hadn’t pressed charges when they’d caught him. Jules let him resign from the company and gave him a farm to manage.

  “That’s what you call charity?” Rich raised an eyebrow. “It looks like Ann’s dad knew something and had to be bought off.”

  “That’s silly.”

  “Jules doesn’t do something for nothing. Talking to him I always feel he’s planning to do something to me and I won’t figure out what it is until it’s too late.”

  He tipped his bottle, then threw it under the table. “Empty. Be right back.”

  Just then the owner set a bottle on our table. “Compliments of Mister Curtright,” he said. His sad eyes were wide and unblinking like those of a fish. “He said to keep you supplied. It’s on the house.”

  “The hell he did.” Richard’s face stiffened. “Well, you can take this damn stuff and—no, here, it’ll save you a trip.” He held out a bill.

  The sad-eyed man held up a hand. “Mister Curtright instructed me—”

  “I don’t care what he instructed. You’re the goddam owner!” Rich stood up and waved the bill. “Here.”

  The man looked mournfully at the bill, then at Rich. “Mister Curtright said not to take any money. And Mister Curtright owns the property.”

  “All right!” Rich stuffed the bill into the man’s breast pocket. “There. You didn’t take it. Don’t go away yet.”

  With his teeth Rich tore off the seal and unscrewed the cap. The little man’s eyes bulged as Rich lifted the bottle above his head and tipped it. I jumped up and lifted my skirt as an amber stream spattered on the floor.

  The bottle was still more than three-quarters full when Rich slammed it down on the table. “Now tell Mister Curtright we’ve poured a libation to him.” He gripped the man’s shoulders and turned him around. “Tell him.”

  Rich jerked out his chair, poured a drink, then looked up as though surprised to see me standing. “You can sit down, Laurie.”

  I didn’t move. ”That was no way to accept a gift, Rich.”

  “A gift?” He laughed. “I told you Jules doesn’t do something for nothing. He wants me drunk then he’ll charge in and rescue you. Simple?”

  Anger rose in me. “I’m not a doll you two can pass back and forth. Besides, he isn’t forcing you to drink.”

  Rich looked down and swirled his drink. “I’m sick of people like fish-eyes and Simone—” He lifted the glass and swallowed three times. “And everybody else in this town afraid to offend Curtright and lose a buck.”

  “Not everybody.” I thought of daddy.

  “No? What if Jules said no dramatic scholarship this year?”

  I felt cold. “He couldn’t.”

  Rich shrugged. “Offend him and find out.”

  A glass shattered over near the bandstand. A hoarse, gleeful voice yelled “fight!” Wooden tables thumped and metal chairs shrieked. A huge crowd gathered around the fighters. Two huge off-duty policemen who served as bouncers plowed in and reappeared a minute later; each held a smaller man by the arm.

  “Will they hurt them?”

  Rich glanced up. “No. They’ll let them in again when they’re ready to spend their money quietly.” He drank again. “Are you going to sit down?”

  I hesitated. The combo blasted forth again. Conversation, bottled up during the fight, came uncorked again and rose to a shout. I felt the warning stab of a headache. “Let’s leave, Rich.”

  “Leave?” He shrugged. “You’re the driver. Dance with me first.”

  “Just one.” I didn’t want Rich here if Jules came back.

  He swayed against me as we paused at the edge of the dance floor, as one might pause before plunging into a thorn thicket. Couples jammed the floor and the air steamed. Shirts clung to men’s backs, and the women’s bare shoulders gleamed.

  I saw Ann standing, outside, watching the dancers with the expression of a kid looking into a candy store. A button was loose on her blouse. I didn’t know the boy who stood behind her with his arms around her waist. I saw him bend and let his lips trail over her shoulder, and a long, waxy strand of her hair fell over his eyes. Ann moved her shoulder and her mouth hooked down at the corners.

  Our eyes met just as a couple moved between us. They swayed for a moment, lips glued together. When they moved on, Ann and the boy were gone.

  “Did you see where Ann went, Rich?”

  “I haven’t seen Ann all night. Let’s dance.”

  He shouldered his way on the floor and pulled me after him. I pushed Ann from my mind and let myself float through the odors of sweat, tobacco and liquor. As we danced, my head seemed to detach itself from my body, buoyed up by heat, champagne and relief from the tense afternoon. I smiled at men who grinned over shining shoulders and smiled at girls who glared. Laughter bubbled up inside me as Rich spun me against other dancers.

  I lost track of the times we returned to the table to drink, then went back to dance. Once Rich mixed my champagne with his Scotch and I laughed at the face he made. Once the fat man with the moustache tapped me on the shoulder. I shook my head and smiled. He mumbled and stumbled away trailing flakes of meat and lettuce from the sandwich he was trying to stuff into his suit pocket. He tapped another girl then stood, a fat and forlorn figure, watching her whirl away with someone else. I glanced at his table and saw that the thin woman had gone.

  Once we eddied into a corner and swayed to a slow, dreamy tune. Richard’s hand pressed the small of my back and I relaxed against him. His whisper was warm in my ear. “Ready to go now?”

  “Yes,” I said against his shoulder.

  “To my place?” His hand moved lower and I felt its warmth through the satin slip.

  “I haven’t seen daddy since this morning, Rich.” My fingers touched the springy hair on the back of his head. I pressed hard against his chest. “He’d call. He calls around when I’m late.”

  “So what if he found you there?” His voice was muffled by my hair.

  “He’d be disappointed.”

  “Beat you?”

  Vaguely I noticed we no longer swayed with the music. I laughed against his shoulder at the thought of daddy beating me. “Never.”

  “Come after you?”

  “Not unless I asked him. He trusts you.”

  “The kiss of death.”

  The word suddenly drained off the pressure inside me. I lifted his hand up to my waist. “No I trust you.”

  “Has your dad got you scared of it?” His hand dropped again.

  “I’m not scared, Rich.” I steeled myself and pulled away from him. “I don’t want distractions—like affairs and babies.”

  “Scared is the wrong word.” He tried to pull me against him. “Your dad’s a helluva nice guy, but he’s got a man’s idea of virtue. Your mom would have been more practical.”

  “How?”

  “Teach you to have the fun and avoid the danger.”

  Oddly I remembered Jules then, and slipped out of Rich’s arms. “Rich, we have to go. Right now.”

  Back at the table, Rich discovered the bottle contained one more drink. I was waiting for him to finish when Jules walked up, alone. We’d waited too long.

  Jules flashed a grin. “May I sit down?”

  I jerked my head toward Richard, frowning. “We’re just leaving.”

  Rich spoke without looking up. “Laurie, I wish I had a million dollars. I want to see if money makes a bastard, or if a bastard just makes money.

  Jules raised an eyebrow at me.

  “You’d better go, Jules.” I said.

  Rich squinted up at him. “By all means stay, Mr. Curtright. We were just talking about you.”

  Jules smiled. “There must be more fascinating subjects.”

  “Not at all, Mister Curtright. I’ve tried to tell Laurie you’re only hu
man but she isn’t convinced.”

  I felt foolish and helpless. I picked up my purse and stood. “Let’s go, Rich.”

  He made a chopping motion with his hand without taking his eyes off Jules. “In a minute. Would you prove it, Mr. Curtright? Would you take us up to your democratic, middle-class apartment? I want to see if you have a stool in your bathroom.”

  Jules’ smile didn’t flicker. “You’re welcome, if you can keep from marking on the walls.”

  Rich pushed back his chair and rose slowly. “Let’s go outside, Mister Curtright. Or I’ll mark you right here.”

  They stood without moving. Rich was almost quivering, but Jules tapped his long fingers against the table top and smiled at Rich.

  “Come on, Rich. I’ll take you home.” I started around the table, then saw the two bouncers gliding up. “Look out!”

  They jumped and caught him before he could turn, each holding an arm close to his body. Richard’s neck muscles corded but he couldn’t move.

  “Any trouble, Mister Curtright?” asked the smaller one, only two inches taller than Rich.

  “No,” said Jules. “He’s harmless.”

  Rich whitened and dragged the two men a step. “I’ll show you who’s harmless, you gilt-edged bastard.” His voice was low and hoarse.

  “You—” the smaller man strained to hold Rich’s arm. “You want him arrested, Mister Curtright?”

  “You can’t arrest a man for making an ass of himself,” said Jules.

  Richard surged again and knocked a glass off the table.

  I was sick of watching and felt tears burning behind my eyelids. “Jules, go away. You’re making it worse.” I turned to the smaller man. “You can let him go. I’ll take him home.”

  “In a minute, little lady. We’ll give the lad some fresh air first.” They wheeled and walked Richard toward the door, like two men helping a drunken buddy. I followed for a few paces then a hand caught my arm. It was the man with the moustache whose wife had left him. “You’ll dance with me, won’t you?”

  “No!” I pulled free of his pudgy hand.

  He caught my arm again. “Come on, honey.”

  From behind me, Jules’ voice grated, “Get away, Howie.”

  The man looked up angrily, then jerked away his hands and rubbed them on his trousers. “Oh, Mister Curtright. Say … come and have a drink with me. You and your girl friend.”

  “Good-bye, Howie.”

  “Well …” The man jammed his hands in his pockets and jerked them out again. Then he turned and shuffled away, mumbling.

  Jules took my arm now. “You could wait in the office for your date, Laurie. They won’t hurt him.” Now his voice was soft and liquid. He had two voices; one for men and one for women.

  But the words infuriated me. “Don’t give me advise, Jules! I know whose fault this is. So do you.”

  His face clouded. “I was just trying to make this a big night for you.”

  “So was I. It was working out nicely.”

  “I’m sorry, Laurie.” He paused, then hurried on when I didn’t respond. “Listen, let me take you home. I’ll get a cab for Richard.”

  I took a deep breath and met his gray eyes. “I have a rule never to change dates in the middle of the evening. Even if I were free—” I thought of Simone, the fish-eyed proprietor, the two bouncers, and an edge came into my voice. “I don’t like being a community project.”

  He tugged at his earlobe. “You prefer a personal approach?”

  My lips were stiff. “Sometimes.”

  “I asked you personally to the banquet tonight.”

  “You asked a Miss Stella.”

  “All right.” He grinned. “Let’s go for a drive tomorrow, Laurie?”

  Before I could answer, the two bouncers came up panting a little. “Your boy friend broke loose in the parking lot, little lady,” said the smaller of the two. “Want us to help you find him?”

  “No!”

  I started away, then stopped as Jules called. “What about tomorrow?”

  He looked lithe and tigerish beside the two bouncers. “I’ll think about it. You can call me tomorrow.”

  Then I walked out quickly before I could change my mind.

  The parking lot was a graveled acre of shadow patched with dim light from the rear of the club. I crunched past a group of men and a bottle caught the light as it changed hands. “Drink, Laurie?”

  It was a boy I knew from college. “No. Have you seen Richard?”

  “No, but I’m available.”

  “Splendid. I’ll spread the word.” I walked on, peering between parked cars. Suddenly I heard a familiar laugh. It burst out high and ran two octaves down the scale before it stopped. Ann’s laugh. Then I peered between two cars and saw her—a dark shadow against one car. Glad she’s feeling better, I thought, moving on.

  After ten minutes, I decided Richard must have started walking. I climbed into daddy’s Ford, threw my purse into the seat, and stabbed the started. It was eager, but the motor remained silent. Finally I climbed out and started walking. I had only a mile to go, and daddy could get the blasted car tomorrow.

  As I clicked along the weed-bordered sidewalk, the noise of the club faded. The music sounded almost good as the distance grew.

  A breeze brushed my face and soothed my ragged nerves.

  Richard always said to me, “You’re an emotional sponge, Laurie. You soak up the frustrations of others and think they’re yours.” Well he’d certainly filled the sponge tonight. Picking a fight with Jules. No, I admired him for that, but it was crazy. Jules owned the paper Rich worked on.

  Would he lose his job? I’d talk to Jules tomorrow.

  I heard a car slow behind me, then surge forward. The tail lights flared, then the car disappeared around a corner.

  My mind wandered as I walked, I looked at the sky; I threw back my head and laughed at the fuzzy halo around the moon. A halo meant rain, didn’t it? It rained when Eileen was killed, a year ago tonight. I shook my head to clear it, but the picture of her lying in the pool of rain water remained.

  My steps quickened. Here the houses thinned out; ahead they ended and the street was bracketed by the empty ballpark and an abandoned lumberyard. I crossed the dim yellow perimeter of a street light, clicked rapidly through a block-long shadow, and entered another.

  My shadow loped up from behind, lay beside me for an instant, then darted forward. It raced dimly along the board fence of the ball park. I heard a rustling noise as I passed the black shadow of the entrance.

  Then a hand clamped over my mouth. I heard a grunt and smelled stale tobacco. I curved my fingers and twisted, trying to face him. But his arm was a steel clamp holding me to him. Like a striking snake, his hand darted upward beneath my dress. I heard the top of my panties give with a rubbery tear, and a fingernail raked my stomach.

  I jerked my head and bit on an acrid finger. I lashed backward with my foot, and heard a grunt as it struck something. Then my legs were jerked from beneath me and I fell to the sidewalk, striking my head. I strained to hold my consciousness but it slipped away.

  The next thing I knew was the pain going down my legs and up my back. It had the rhythm of a headache—the constant ache, then the sharp stab of pain with each heartbeat.

  I opened my eyes and saw a mottled shadow above me, barely visible against complete blackness. Each thrust of pain, I noticed, was marked by a movement of the shadow and a hiss of breath. I caught the sick-sweet smell of liquor and understood what was happening. How long would it take?

  I tried to scream, but there was something over my mouth. I tried to move my hands, but they were taped together beneath me. I dug my heels into the dirt and pushed myself backwards. Movement ceased above me and a strained, muffled voice sounded in my ear. “Please don’t move now.”

  I pushed harder and twisted. His arms went under me and tightened, forcing the air from my lungs. My ribs popped, and pain laced my brain like red cobwebs. The breathing quickened.

&
nbsp; Then the weight was gone, and the voice sounded in my ear. “Do you know who I am? Please nod your head yes or no.”

  I felt his hand against my cheek. He sounded like a child, but I knew it was a man, talking in the precise spaced words of a young boy reading aloud in class. He was disguising his voice, which meant I might have recognized his real voice. I shook my head from side to side against his hand. I don’t know you, but I will …

  “Then I will turn you loose, if you promise not to tell what has happened. Do you promise?”

  He thinks like a little boy, too. What good is my promise now? I nodded against the hand Then his hand was beneath me, ripping off the tape. I lay without moving. They were nearly free when he stopped. “Maybe you plan to follow me.”

  I shook my head violently from side to side.

  “Yes, you would. I’m sorry, Laurie.”

  I tore my hand free and clawed at his face. My fingers caught in a cloth he’d tied over his face and I ripped it off. Then something smashed against my jaw.

  Half-conscious, I heard the rip of tape and felt him bind my hands against my ankles. I tried to struggle, but my muscles wouldn’t work, and I felt consciousness slipping away again. Oh, God, he’ll do it again. And I can’t stop him, can’t stop …

  Then the crushing weight returned, and his hand squeezed my throat. “I’m sorry to kill you, Laurie. I really am sorry, Laurie …”

  The last words echoed down a deep well: Sorry, Laurie, Sorrylaurie, sorilorisorilori … It became a shrill whistle, then ended. I seemed to have floated out of the well, up to an altitude where there was no sound and no air to breathe. I thought I could hear a little boy sobbing.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I WAS SURE of one thing as I turned in at the house—we’d meet again. When no corpse was found and no rape reported he’d get curious and look me up. Eventually.

  I’ll carry a gun in my purse and I’ll kill him. I’d never wanted anything quite so badly. It made my career seem like a girlish whim.

  Dirt prickled inside my stockings and trickled down my back as I fluffed my hair. I felt as though I’d been dragged across plowed ground against the furrow.