The Kidnapper (5 page)

“No, I don’t believe it, you wouldn’t—”

“I thought you were so hot to get married?”

“But Steve, that’s awful! Why, the way I feel about Shirley Mae, it’s just like she was my own.”

“How do you feel about me?”

“No, Steve. No, I couldn’t. I’d rather starve.”

I got up.

“Steve, where you going?”

“Nowhere. Just wanted to give you plenty of room.”

“Why?”

“So you can get dressed and get out of here, and start starving. You and I, we’d never hit it off, Mary. We don’t have the same ideas. I thought I was explaining things so you’d understand, but I guess you can’t. So let’s not fool ourselves. You want one kind of life, I want another.”

“You’re trying to tell me you don’t want to see me any more?”

“That’s not it, Mary. I want to see you, you know that.” I turned away, trying to register remorse, or grief, something like that. “I’ll always want to see you, and that’s just the trouble. Sooner or later we’ll be getting back to the same old thing again, and everything will be spoiled. We’ll start quarreling, get into arguments. So far it’s been wonderful, Mary. Let’s leave it that way. At least we’ll have our memories.”

How’s that for a hot line? Sometimes I think I should of sold used cars or something, the way I can turn it on.

“All right, Steve.”

She got dressed, and I walked over to the bureau and opened the drawer.

“Here, Mary. I got you something.” I gave her the box. “I thought you needed this, and I didn’t figure at the time it would be a going-away present. But I want you to have it.”

She took it and opened it up. A seventeen-jewel watch. I picked it up downtown for $22.95 plus tax.

“Oh—”

She turned on the faucet then. I patted her shoulder. “Good-bye, Mary. I’m sorry. And maybe I’m glad too, in a way. You’re too good for me, really. Go out and get yourself a nice steady guy.”

I led her to the door and patted her shoulder. “So long. Wear it, huh, and maybe once in a while think of me?”

She bawled all the way down the stairs and out of the house.

Me, I went back in the room and closed the door and sat down on the bed and laughed.

It was working out just like I expected it to. Everything was perfect. I knew she’d say no, the first time.

But I also knew she’d be coming back.

As far as I was concerned, Shirley Mae Warren was as good as snatched, right now.

Chapter Six

T
hat was Friday, and when I went to work I saw Specs. He was just getting over his hangover, and he felt plenty rugged, but he was happy. He kept talking about the blonde, Terry.

“You know, Steve, she’s nuts about me. I dunno, the first time a couple weeks ago she didn’t pay any attention to me. And here all of a sudden she’s nuts about me.” He grinned. “I got to thank you, Steve. I never had so much fun in my life.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Tomorrow night, I’m going back there again. You want to come along? This time it’ll be on me.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got a date Sunday.”

“This girl friend of yours? Say, maybe I could get Terry. She probably’s got time off in the daytimes. We could go out to the park or something like that, in the car.”

“Why don’t you ask her, Specs? Then give me a ring, say around noon, Sunday,”

“Sure, I’ll do that.”

And that was Friday night. Saturday afternoon I went downtown and bought a couple of things. I got some hair dye and a pair of big black-framed sunglasses from the dime store, and I went into an office supply place for one of these rubber stamp sets. It has all the letters of the alphabet on it and you can press it against an ink-pad and make letters.

Saturday night I had to listen to Specs again, and what he was going to do with this Terry character. I nearly split to hear him tell it; you’d think he was talking about Queen Elizabeth instead of a two-bit whore.

But I didn’t say anything. I just waited. I went home and played the radio a while. Then I went to bed and by noon I was up and ready to run downstairs when the phone rang.

“Hello, Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“This is Specs.”

“How’d you make out?”

“She can’t go. She—she said she don’t feel so good.”

“Tough luck. But I got news for you. My girl has to work this afternoon.”

“Then you don’t have any date either.” Smart boy, this Specs. He could tell you how much two and two is, easy, if you gave him a slipstick and a little time to figure.

“That’s right. So I was thinking, how about if you and I just take the car and go for a ride anyway. That okay with you?”

“Fine, I’d like that. Want me to call for you.”

“I’m ready if you are. We can maybe eat out somewheres.”

“Good, Steve. I’ll be over.”

And he was. We drove through the park and then out on the highway. Specs was all dressed up in a crummy brown tweed suit, and he wore a nylon shirt with it and a bow tie. On him it looked awful, but that’s the way he always dressed on Sundays.

Along about five we stopped at a joint out on the road and had a steak dinner. We drank some beer with it, and when we finished we went into the bar and had a couple of shots.

We sat in a booth and I got him talking. Pretty soon he came out with it.

“You know, I was making that up, about Terry. She wasn’t sick or anything. She just wouldn’t go. I can’t figure her out, Steve. The other night she was—oh, like she was nuts about me. Last night she didn’t even have anything to say, it was like she scarcely remembered my name.”

“What do you expect from a tramp?”

“Steve, you shouldn’t call—”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Specs! What are you, a kid or something? Don’t go around fooling yourself. Terry’s a whore. You know it and I know it. And let me tell you something else, while I’m at it. Most women are the same way.”

“You hadn’t ought to say things like that.”

“Shut up and drink your drink. And listen to me. I know what I’m talking about, Specs. I don’t mean that most women actually work at it like a business, the way Terry does. But if you want them to be nice to you, you got to have dough. It takes dough to get married on. It takes dough if you want a steady dame of your own, in an apartment maybe, without getting married. You know that.”

“But I got a good job, Steve. I’m making money.”

“Peanuts, that’s what you’re making. And you look like it, too.”

“What’s wrong with the way I look? This is a new suit.”

“It stinks. Guy with your complexion ought to wear grey, light grey. Something with a stripe in it, make you look taller. And some of this hand-stitching around the lapels, expensive-looking, more classy.”

“Maybe you’d come with me some time when I got a suit?”

“You’ll need more than a suit, Specs. That’s only the beginning. I see where I’ll have to start educating you.”

“You’re my friend, Steve. Here, how about another one?”

“Sure. Call the bartender. But listen to me, now. You ought to get yourself a new kind of glasses, maybe those ones with the steel frames. And a crew haircut, everybody wears them nowadays. Then you go to a dentist, get your teeth fixed.”

“But Steve, I went by Doctor Baumberger last year. He said it would cost maybe five, six hundred dollars to get them all straightened out.”

“You’ve got that much, haven’t you?”

“Here, take a look at my bankbook.” He was one of
those
kind of guys, too—always carried his bankbook around with him. “See, I got $2100 saved up. In three years.”

“Well ain’t that nice? Let’s see, that’s seven hundred a year you save. If you keep on living in that dump, and don’t get married, and don’t get sick or take any vacations or get laid off, in twenty years you’ll have almost $17,000. Just think of that, you’ll only be fifty years old or so and all dried up, but you’ll have $17,000 in the bank. Enough to buy an old rundown duplex, almost.”

“What’s the matter with that? Saving money’s a good idea.”

“Making money is a better one. Making it, and spending it. Real money, big money. Right now, while you’re still young and can enjoy it.”

“How you gonna do that, though?”

I grinned at him. “Oh, there’s ways. Specs, what would you say if I told you that within a month from now I expect to be worth—well, maybe a hundred and fifty grand?”

“You’re crazy in the head.”

“All right, go ahead and laugh. But along about the middle or end of June, just remember what I told you.”

“How can you ever make that kind of dough so fast—robbing banks, maybe?”

“Don’t talk silly. I’m smarter than that. I’ve got a new angle.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, yet. Here, let me buy this one.”

He was feeling pretty good by this time. “Steve, you’re my pal.”

“Of course I am. And I want to see you get ahead, have a little fun.”

“The other night, that was wonderful, wonderful.”

“That was nothing, Specs. Believe me, that’s only the beginning. But you got to have dough. Or at least look like you have dough. Which reminds me—one of the things you ought to do is buy a new car.”

“Nothing wrong with what I got. It’s only eight years old, but it’s clean and I don’t have much mileage on her, considering.”

“You see? That’s the way you think. Small. No wonder you’ll never get anyplace, Specs. You got to think big. You’re talking about mileage and I’m talking about pickup. Not on the car, but pickup with dames. There’s nothing like a nice new automobile to make them think you’re rolling in cash.”

“You mean one of them convertibles, like?”

“No, who wants a convertible? You want a top on the car, so’s you can use it in the winter. Keep the girls warm for you.”

“But I don’t want to lay out all my savings for no car, Steve.”

“Guess you’re right.” I hit the table. “Say, I’ve got an idea. How about if you and I went in on a car together? I’ve got about seven hundred saved, and we could just make it.”

“I could trade in this one, too.”

“No. You wouldn’t get enough on a trade. Besides, it’s plenty good enough for driving to work in. This other car, we’d just use it this summer to bat around in, have a good time. Sundays like this we could go out and pick ourselves off some real honeys, at dances and stuff. How’s that sound to you, Specs?”

“That sounds good.”

“Let’s shake on it, then. You and I, we’re in business together. I’m going to see that you start living a little.”

He shook on it, and the deal was cinched.

I didn’t waste any time on the rest of it, either. Monday afternoon I went down and found what I wanted. A good last year’s Olds, with only four thousand miles on her. The kind of a bug that can do a hundred and ten without straining, with a fast starter. Black, too.

Tuesday I brought Specs in to look at it. “We’ll put it in my name,” I told him. “On account of taxes.”

“How do you mean, taxes?”

“Well, you know how the Revenue department operates. They look over your income tax, they see you have two cars, and right away they figure this guy is making a lot of money he isn’t telling about. And then they just might start asking questions. No sense looking for trouble.”

“Say, I never thought of that. You’re right, Steve.” He was easy. “When do we buy it? I got to line up another garage.”

“Let me handle all the details. You just hop down to the bank tomorrow and draw out $1100.”

“That’s a lot of money.”

“It’s worth it for this baby. Remember what I told you—you got to think big to get anywhere.”

“All right, Steve.”

Everything was right with Specs. And everything was right with me, too. I got title to $1800 worth of automobile for seven hundred. And we were all set for our transportation now.

Friday night I went out with Specs. He wanted to drive, just like a kid with a new toy. We hit the highway and he got her up to eighty-five and then ninety.

“Some job, eh?”

“I’ll say! Steve, you sure know how to pick ’em.”

“This isn’t all I can pick, either. What do you say we go out Sunday?”

“You mean, for girls maybe?”

“Maybe.”

“Sure. It’s a deal.”

And that was that. Saturday afternoon I took the car out myself, without telling him. I went for a long ride on the county trunk roads, out near the lakes. I covered every back road on the map, hit all the resort cottages.

I was looking for something, and I found it.

Sunday I showed Specs.

“What did you drive way out here for?” he asked me. “You don’t want to buy no cottage.”

“I was thinking we could rent one,” I said.

“What for?”

“Don’t be dense, Specs. Where do you think we’re going to take these dames of ours? What could be nicer than a little cottage like this, right here in the woods with nobody around to bother you? You bring ’em out here for weekends, parties, the works. And when we have our vacation this summer, think how nice it would be to shack up here for two weeks straight. Buy a barrel of beer if we like, a case of whiskey. Chances are, by that time we’ll both be lined up steady. If not we can cruise around, pick up a different set of babes each night. Change off. How’s that sound to you, Specs? Twenty-eight different broads in two weeks. Think you could stand it?”

That was the way to handle Specs, all right. Just get him started thinking about women.

“Boy, could I? Just you try me and see.”

“Well, I’ll find out who’s renting this place and we can maybe line it up early for July, say. That’s the best month. It won’t cost much.”

“That’s good, Steve. You know, I want to be careful with the money I got left.”

“Sure, I forgot. You won’t be in on it, will you?”

“In on what?”

“Oh, that big deal I was telling you about.”

“You didn’t tell me about no big deal.”

“Last Sunday.”

“Oh, how you was going to make all this dough in a hurry. You said it, but you didn’t tell me how.”

“I had a damned good reason.”

“You mean—?”

“Never mind what I meant.” I drove away. “Forget it.”

But of course he didn’t forget it, and when we went to eat and he got a few drinks in him, he started in again.