Midnight's Lair (16 page)

    'Yeah.' He wasn't embarrassed by the remark. He felt as if he'd been expected to do a number on her, and had fulfilled some kind of unspoken obligation.

    'I'd ask if you enjoyed it,' Dad said, 'but I guess that goes without saying.'

    'When can I do it again?'

    'We'll discuss that later.' He came over to the bed and gazed down at Amy's sprawled body. 'What'd you cut the ropes for?'

    Kyle shrugged. 'She was out cold.'
Or dead
, he thought. 'I didn't see any harm.'

    'Was she unconscious before you took the tape off her mouth?'

    'Well, no. But she didn't scream or…'

    'Did she have anything interesting to say?'

    Kyle grinned. 'She said she'd marry me if I let her go-'

    Dad snorted. 'That's a good one. Amazing what they'll come up with.'

    'You talk to them sometimes?'

    'Not so much anymore. After a while, they all sound pretty much the same. They beg and whine. They offer you money, sex - which is a yuck considering you're going to get that anyway.' He reached down and pressed fingertips to her wrist. 'Still has a pulse,' he said after a few moments.

    'Really?' Kyle was surprised.

    'That's all right. It's better not to kill them.' He looked at Kyle and raised an eyebrow. 'You're a lot like your grandfather. He always left a real mess. I'm not that much into savaging the bitches. Just use enough force to subdue them, you know?'

    Kyle felt heat rush to his face. 'I'm sorry. I just…'

    'No, it's all right. If you like it that way, fine. It's a matter of personal taste. But you're going to have to replace the sheets and things out of your own pocket.'

    'Okay.'

    Dad nodded toward the bathroom. 'Now get in there and take a shower, son. Make it quick, but get all the blood off. Be sure to get it out from under your nails.'

    'What are we going to do with her?'

    'Nurse her back to health and give her a bus ticket to Omaha.'

    'What?'

    'You'll find out. Take your shower.'

    

    

    Kyle stepped into the bathroom. On the metal shelf over the sink were Amy's toothbrush, a small tube of Crest, a bottle of roll-on deodorant, a hairbrush with a clear pink plastic handle and quite a lot of wispy brown hair tangled in its bristles.

    
What are we going to do with all this stuff?
he wondered.

    
What are we going to do with her?

    She isn't even dead. Weird. He'd felt sure she was dead before he even took the pillow case out of her mouth.

    Dad says it's all right, though. Dad knows what he's doing. He's done all this before, plenty of times - enough times to get tired of listening to them.

    Kyle leaned forward and studied his face in the mirror above the sink. He looked for a difference in his eyes. They seemed pretty much the same as usual. He wiggled his eyebrows. The skin on his forehead felt stiff because of the partly dried blood. He smiled. His whole face felt stiff. A single, short curl of hair clung to the blood near the corner of his mouth. He left it there, and turned away from the mirror.

    A bath-towel was hanging on a bar to dry, but a clean one remained neatly folded, clamped in place on the wire rack. The bath-mat was draped over the side of the tub. He spread it onto the floor and stepped on it. It felt damp and cool.

    A wash-cloth had been left hanging over the cold water nozzle. A small, plastic bottle of shampoo stood on an edge of the tub. In the soap dish was one of the tiny white bars provided by the hotel.

    Kyle picked up the wash-cloth.

    Amy had used it, rubbed herself all over with it.

    He pressed the thin, damp cloth to his face, breathed through it, sniffed it. It smelled faintly of soap, nothing more.

    But he was flooded with memories of his last time in Darcy's room, the feel and aroma of her wash-cloth, the cool dampness of her bath-towel against his bare skin.

    He turned on the water, washed his hands under the spout, then pulled the knob to make the shower come on. He stepped into the tub and pulled the curtain shut.

    The heavy, hot spray of water felt good. The blood seemed to melt off his skin. It slid down him, turned pink around his feet and ran towards the drain.

    As he soaped himself, he imagined Darcy tied to the bed in the other room. If it had been Darcy instead of Amy tonight, it would've been even more incredible. In a way, it had been Darcy. Once the pillow case hid Amy's face, he'd been able to fill his mind with the slender, beautiful guide. That made it better, but he'd known all along he was just pretending.

    
If it had been Darcy tonight,
he thought,
it'd all not over now.

    
I don't want it to be just an hour with her.

    
Days, weeks.

    It'll never happen, he realized, sinking inside. But getting her for a while, maybe for a whole night… that could happen.

    Something to shoot for.

    Wearing soap lather like a suit of white foam, Kyle shampooed his hair. He rinsed, then checked his fingernails. They looked clean.

    He turned off the water, slid back the curtain, and stepped onto the bath-mat. He pulled the clean white towel off the wire rack. He dried himself. When he was done, he held the towel open in front of him and checked both sides. It was still white.

    His clothes were in the other room. He wrapped the towel around his waist. It was just large enough to meet at the hip. When he tucked the corners together, the side of his leg was left bare.

    
When I run this place,
he thought,
the guests will get bigger towels. No wonder we get rated so low.

    He stepped out of the bathroom.

    The bundle on the bed looked like a cocoon. Amy had been rolled up in the sheets, which were tied around her with ropes. The white sheets were soaked through with blood.

    Dad, standing at the foot of the bed, was shaking open a plastic garbage bag.

    'What should I do?' Kyle asked.

    'Just watch. I'll show you everything. Next time, you'll do it all and I'll supervise. You'll be doing it by yourself one of these days.'

    Kyle stepped over to his pile of clothes. The towel came loose as he walked, and he held it up, wondering why he bothered; he'd been naked in front of his father only a little while ago. It seemed different, now. He tucked the towel together and it stayed in place until he had his briefs on. Then he let it fall. He watched his father and continued to get dressed.

    With the plastic bag open, Dad crawled onto the bed. He started to slip it around Amy's wrapped feet. 'All you missed,' he said, 'was tying the sheets around her. I already checked the bedspread and blanket. They're all right. They were off the bed before you started working on her.' He lifted the bundle, pulled the bag up to Amy's waist, then went for another bag. He put that one over Amy's head, drew it down so it overlapped the top of the other bag, then started binding them together with duct tape. Before climbing off the bed, he slapped the plastic mattress cover. 'This saves our mattress. We'll come back afterwards, mop it off, do a final cleanup.'

    He went into the bathroom. Kyle watched him wash his hands, then gather up everything Amy had left behind, including the small bottle of shampoo on the edge of the tub. He brought her belongings out, and put them into her suitcase. 'One rule,' he said. 'We don't keep anything except cash. Nothing that can connect us to her.'

    He wandered the room, collecting all of Amy's possessions and adding them to the suitcase. When he found her handbag, he took out the wallet and removed a handful of bills. He stuffed them into his pocket. Then he took out a key case.

    'She drove in, so we've got a car to deal with. First thing in the morning, Ralph Dexter'll take it off our hands. He's been taking care of the cars for years, never asks any questions. He's got a garage, paints 'em, changes license plates, does the whole nine yards, has some kind of connections so they end up being sold out of state. We've never had any trouble with the things getting traced back to us.'

    Kyle shook his head, amazed. 'You've really got it… set up.'

    'Had a lot of practice,' Dad said. He shut the suitcase and snapped its latches. 'It started with Ely, and we've been doing it ever since.'

    'And getting away with it,' Kyle said.

    'We've had a few close calls. Your grandfather got busted once, but they dropped the charges. No evidence. That's part of the trick, don't leave any evidence. But the main trick is this: don't arouse suspicion.'

    Dad wandered the room, making a final inspection, then picked up an ashtray, sat on a corner of the bed and lit a cigarette. 'I've been averaging about one a month for almost twenty years, now. I did it sometimes before then, but when your grandfather had his stroke, I took over the whole thing from him. Do you know how many women that makes?'

    Kyle shook his head. He felt tired, excited, too dazed by it all to fool with maths.

    'It makes about two hundred forty. That's give or take maybe a dozen. And I've never been busted. It's because I'm careful, and you've got to be careful too. You'll be doing all this by yourself, some day. For the time being. I'll show you the ropes, we'll share, take turns, that kind of thing.'

    Kyle nodded.

    Dad blew twin streams of pale smoke out his nose. 'It all comes down,' he said, 'to who you put in this room. You want them to be young and good looking, right? Where's the thrill of doing a gal looks like she's been whapped with an ugly stick? But there's a lot more to it than that.

    'You're working the registration desk, a gal comes in. If she's not alone, obviously you forget it. The nice thing is, the cavern's an attraction that pulls in all kinds, and we get some women who are travelling alone. Not a whole lot of them, but enough so you can pick and choose.

    'Okay, she's someone you wouldn't mind putting it to and she's alone. Is she married? Check her rings. If she's married, forget it. She fills out the registration card. Does she live nearby? Normally, they don't, or they wouldn't be checking into the hotel. But pay attention to where they live. Go for the ones who live out of state.'

    Dad crushed out his cigarette. 'Take Amy. She comes in alone, she's a little hefty but cute. No wedding or engagement ring, and she's from Ohio. I talk to her a little bit, just acting friendly. Find out she's had a falling-out with her fiancee, a guy who's a little nuts and likes to knock her around. She's on her way to Manhattan, planning to start a new life without him. Saw the hotel sign as she was driving by, decided to spend the night and see the cavern tomorrow. Probably hoping to run into a nice young man in the process.' Dad grinned. 'And she did, huh? Two nice young men.'

    Kyle chuckled.

    'The point is, I got to know her some. Enough to find out nobody has an idea she's stopping here for the night. That means, when she turns up missing, nobody is going to come around here asking questions. She's perfect. So I check her into 115. See this?' He took a folded card out of his shirt pocket. 'It's her registration card. I burn it, no record she was ever here.'

    Dad stood up. He set the ashtray on the bureau, and turned to Kyle. 'That's how it's done. You want to find a gal who can't be traced to the hotel. That's ninety-nine per cent of the trick. The other one per cent is making sure you don't get caught in the act. No big problem with that. Grab her suitcase.'

    Kyle picked up the suitcase. His father lifted Amy's wrapped body off the bed and slung it over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. 'Another rule to remember,' Dad said as he started to walk under the burden. 'Don't bite off more than you can chew. Don't kill more than you can carry. It's not easy, lugging these bitches around.' He stepped through the opening left by the mirror.

    Kyle followed him.

    'Normally,' Dad said, 'I'd put her down on the chair here while I make sure the coast is clear. You go ahead and check, though.' He nodded towards the storeroom's door. 'Take a peek in the corridor and stairwell. Nobody's going to be wandering around this time of night, but it pays to be careful.'

    Kyle set down the suitcase and opened the door. The long, dimly lighted hallway looked deserted. He stepped out and rushed the few feet to the firedoor. He pushed it open, glanced up and down the stairs, listened for a moment, then hurried back to the storeroom. 'It's okay,' he said, picking up the suitcase again.

    He held the door open and was surprised by the speed with which his father crossed the open area to the fire-door. Kyle shut the storeroom door, made sure it was locked, then hurried to the stairwell.

    Dad was already at the bottom, pushing the exit door. He's taking the body outside?

    He knows what he's doing, Kyle told himself. Must. Kyle trotted down the four stairs to the bottom, and followed his father through the door.

    The Cadillac was there, its trunk already open.

    Dad bent over. The body flopped off his shoulder and dropped into the trunk. The car rocked slightly under the impact. He took the suitcase from Kyle and swung it in beside the body. Then, he lowered the trunk lid and pressed it down firmly so it latched with barely a sound.

    Leaning back against the trunk, he folded his arms across his chest. 'That wasn't so hard, was it?'

    'We're right out in the open,' Kyle whispered.

    'Are we? Take a look around.'

    Kyle didn't need to take a look around; he'd been here countless times. They'd carried the body out the fire exit at the end of the hotel's east wing. Their car was backed up very close to the door, but…