The Prettiest Girl I Ever Killed (17 page)

I’d never seen a man questioned before, but I know if I’d had anything to hide, I’d have told Curt before the night was over. He was a cold unfeeling machine; to him Johnny Drew was a locked box which had to be pried open. He tied Johnny to a chair in his black-walled studio and questioned him until I thought I would scream at the repeated questions, each one asked in a hundred different ways. Each time Johnny failed to answer, Curt slapped his doughy checks. I could see the object wasn’t to hurt him physically, but to wear him down by repetition, the way the Chinese do with drops of water.

“Where’ve you been hiding?” Slap. “Did you kill Anne?” Slap. “Who’re you working for? You’ve got four hundred dollars in your wallet. Who gave it to you? You’re carrying a Husqvarna.270 rifle. Where’d you buy it? How’d you get these scratches on your hands? Who told you to kill me? How’d you make those phone calls? What’s a phone jack? What’s a bug? A transistor? Are you right-handed? You don’t have insulated clippers. Who cut my electric wires for you?”

Johnny started out trying to sneer, but after an hour his face was a gory mask. His lips were cut on the inside and blood was drooling from his mouth.

“Maybe he isn’t working for anybody,” I said finally. “Maybe it’s his own idea.”

“Johnny doesn’t have ideas. He’s a boob. Aren’t you a boob, Johnny?” Curt slapped Johnny’s head back against the chair. “You don’t know electronics, you don’t know how a stove works, you don’t know a goddam thing. The other guy set it up; you were just the voice on the line, the muscle, while the other guy walked around the community and showed his smiling face at the right time. Wasn’t that it, Johnny?”

“Water …” said Johnny. “Give me a drink.”

“That’s encouraging. First words you’ve said. Velda, go down and get a glass of water.”

I followed my flashlight beam down through the dark house to the kitchen. The furniture still lay on its side and dark stains remained where Gaby’s blood had leaked. I got the water and hurried back upstairs. Curt took the glass, turned his back a moment, then held the glass to Johnny’s lips. Johnny took a swallow, then coughed and spat.

“Salt water. You bastard!”

“You get fresh water when you talk. Ready?”

Johnny wasn’t ready. Curt stood him up against the wall and got out his bow and arrows. They were barbed hunting arrows, not the round target points we’d been using. He fired three arrows around Johnny, one of them so close that it pinned his shirt to the wall. Greasy sweat rolled down Johnny’s face, but he remained silent.

Curt handed the bow to me. “Take a couple of shots, Velda.”

“I can’t shoot, Curt. You know that.”

“That’s Johnny’s worry.”

My knees shook as I got up and fitted an arrow into the bow. Johnny faced me with his mouth open, his eyes wide. “Velda, you wouldn’t—”

I don’t know whether I would have or not. Curt may have wanted me to bluff, but I was pulling back on the bowstring and my fingers were sweaty … I lost my grip; the string twanged and an arrow quivered in the wall a foot from Johnny’s ear.

“Good shot, Velda. Take another.”

“Curt, I didn’t aim—”

“Aim this time. For his belly Even if he’s punctured, he’ll live long enough to talk—”

“No!” Johnny’s face was gray behind the blood. “I made those phone calls. I hid out in Connersville.”

“How’d you get your instructions?”

“A bartender gave me an envelope with money and instructions.”

“Who gave them to him?”

“A kid delivered it. That’s all I know …”

“Not enough, Johnny.”

Curt walked to the wall and slammed Johnny down in a chair. I couldn’t tell what he was doing; his body blocked my view. I saw Johnny’s head forced back and I heard him gag. After a moment Curt stepped back and set a pill bottle on his desk.

“Those pills are to speed up your heartbeat, Johnny. It’ll pound faster and faster until it bursts. It’ll fill your insides with blood until you can’t breathe. You’ll choke to death on your own blood.”

Veins stood out on Johnny’s head. His face twitched. I picked up the pill bottle and saw that it contained Dexedrine tablets. They’d speed up Johnny’s heartbeat, but they weren’t fatal.

“Feel the heart pounding, Johnny? It takes fifteen minutes. Feel the blood racing? You can still talk….”

Johnny licked his brown-crusted lips. “If … if I talk, what?”

“I’ll give you pills to counteract these. They’ll carry you into dreamland.”

“Okay … I … got instructions to kill you. He said you’d be here, the lights off and so on. I got four hundred in advance and would get another thousand when the job was done.”

“How’d you get the instructions?”

“By … telephone.”

“You didn’t get the money by telephone.”

“They … it was given to the bartender in an envelope.”

Curt jumped to his feet. “What was the name of the bar?” He gave Johnny only a second to answer, then asked: “What did the bartender look like? Blond or brunet or bald? What time did you pick up the money? You can’t answer, can you? I’m tired of screwing with you.
Tired,
you hear? You slimy goddam snake!”

His open hand caught Johnny’s jaw and dumped him from his chair. I thought Curt had lost his temper, but then I saw it was only a pose. Curt helped Johnny back into his chair and spoke in gentle, friendly tones. “You’ve never heard of the Italian rat torture, have you, Johnny? They put a pair of hungry rats in a cage which fits around a man’s neck. First the rats eat away the ears, then the nose, then the eyelids. Then they go for those bright shiny eyes. You can’t look away, Johnny. You can’t close your eyes. You have to stare at those sharp yellow teeth biting into your eyes the way you’d bite into a peach. I just happen to have a pair of hungry rats….” He went to the corner and folded back a piece of heavy canvas. Beneath it was a metal bird cage containing two lean gray rats. They cluttered excitedly as Curt carried them toward Johnny. My stomach turned over. Curt held the cage against Johnny’s cheek; the smell of blood excited them; they squealed and leaped against the side of the cage, their yellow teeth slashing. Johnny groaned and slumped in his chair.

Curt shook him; he lolled, a dead weight. Curt put the rats back beneath the tarpaulin, then threw the glass of salt water in his face. Johnny didn’t move. Curt sat down and lit a cigaret.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Wait until he wakes up.” He glanced at his watch, then peered at me. I felt as though I’d been dragged over plowed ground against the furrow; I must have looked that way because Curt said: “It’s three a.m. There are beds downstairs. You can lie down and rest. I’ll wake you if I need you.”

I climbed down the ladder and went into the bedroom. I lay down on Curt’s bed, amid the smell of his tobacco and after-shave lotion. I didn’t intend to sleep, but I did. Dawn glowed warm in the windows when I awoke. The house was draped in silence. I climbed up to Curt’s studio, pushed open the trapdoor, and shoved my head through. The gruesome scene struck me all at once, like a hammerblow between the eyes. I gave a little shriek and let the trapdoor fall. I clung to the ladder breathing hard. Could I have imagined the sight? Fatigue, loss of sleep, could that have made me see Johnny Drew lying on the floor with the feathered shaft of an arrow protruding from his chest? Numbly I pushed open the trapdoor; it was real, Johnny Drew was cold meat, as lifeless as a roll of canvas. Although I’d never seen a corpse outside a coffin, I knew there was no point in checking Johnny’s pulse.

I lowered the trapdoor and ran downstairs; there was no sign of Curt on the first floor. I ran out the front door and tried to stop, but my momentum was too great. I ran into the arms of Sheriff Wade, who said, “Velda, what the hell—?” I stared into Lou’s wide, dumbfounded eyes and I felt my head swimming, the earth tilting. The light faded, and I thought, How corny and feminine, to faint at a time like this….

I awoke in my own bed, and there was young Doctor Nash, with a thin moustache and a greasy bedside manner he must have learned from TV. He was dismantling a hypodermic needle and putting it into a tray. He smiled at me—a process which divided his moustache into separate hairs—and said: “Just lie back, Mrs. Bayrd. I’ve given you a sedative which should let you rest all day.”

“Doctor, you didn’t …”

My head whirled suddenly. When it cleared the doctor was outside the room talking in hospital tones to my husband. I wanted to get out of bed but I was caught in a pool of lassitude as heavy as sweet molasses. My lids drooped shut and I was looking into a well spiraling down and down. A light glowed at the bottom like a tiny coin; somebody’s face smiled up at me.
Just drift down,
said a voice in my head,
drift down.
I drifted down: I wore a filmy garment which drifted around me like cobwebs. It was Curt waiting down there for me; his hands stripped the lace from my body and he laughed: “Can’t you ever say what you want, Velda? Won’t you ever be honest with yourself?” I was naked, and his hands passed over my body leaving trails of fire. Horrified, I watched Curt unzip his trousers; he came toward me and I saw that he held a huge hypodermic needle in his hand. I put my hands down to protect myself, saying: “No, I don’t want to sleep; I want to know what’s happening …” Suddenly there was Gaby dressed in a nurse’s uniform. She seized my hands and pulled them away, saying: “Don’t be childish. Isn’t this what you wanted?” Curt laughed and jabbed, and I felt it go all the way in, up through my stomach and into my lungs until I couldn’t breathe….

I opened my eyes; my covers were damp with sweat. A low sun cast a red glow on the opposite wall.
Day
is
done.
Outside I heard the mewling of dogs. I got out of bed, staggered to the window, and looked out. A panel truck had parked in the drive. Through the wire mesh I saw the mournful lace of a bloodhound. I slipped on my housecoat and walked into the front room to look out the other window. In the front yard stood Sheriff Wade, his deputy and Lou. The sheriff was dressed as usual, but Deputy Hoff was armed for a siege. Two pearlhandled forty-fives hung low on his hips, tied down with leather thongs. Slung on his back was a rifle. I half-expected to see grenades hanging from his belt. Hoff was walking around in small circles, hitching up his belt and spitting on the ground. The sheriff was talking to Lou. Silently I raised the window and listened:

“… like to have you with us Lou, since you’re a good hand with guns. He’s somewhere over there in Brush Creek. The hounds will find him. But the more men we have, the less chance of anybody getting hurt.”

“How about Friedland? You plan to take him alive?”

“He’ll get his chance. If he doesn’t take it “The sheriff shrugged. “It’ll be a better chance than he gave Johnny Drew. Torturing a man in my county …” For a moment the sheriff seemed choked by indigestion, then he said: “How about it? You want me to deputize you?”

Lou shook his head. “First place, I don’t know Brush Creek. I wouldn’t be much help. In the second place, I don’t like hunting a man with dogs, no matter what he might have done.”

The sheriff nodded curtly. “Okay, Lou. Whatever you say. Let’s go, Bobby.”

They jumped in the panel truck and roared off. Watching Lou walk back to the house, I felt proud of him for not joining the hunt. I ran into my room and crawled back in bed just as Lou pushed the door open. “Velda?” I fluttered my eyelids and he came in. “Velda, they’re hunting Curt. They wanted to question you but I said that you were asleep.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I want you to tell me why you were at Curt’s house this morning.”

“How did you know I was there?”

“Your mother called and asked if you’d arrived home safely. That’s when I started looking for you.”

I swore at myself for forgetting. Mother always called to see if I’d gotten home all right; she’d been doing it ever since Anne’s death.

“But … why’d you bring the sheriff?”

“He just happened to be with me. He had a search warrant for the house; he suspected Curt of burglarizing his office. Now I’ve answered your questions. You answer mine.”

I told Lou that Gaby had given me a message for Curt. I went on to tell him what had happened at Curt’s house after I got there. I told him because I wanted a favor from him; I wanted him to join the posse and keep them from killing Curt. Lou hesitated; the deputy might be gun-happy, but he couldn’t shoot. If he got close enough to hit Curt, he’d be close enough to take Curt alive. “If he wanted to,” I said, then I told him about the fight the two had when Curt first arrived. Lou agreed to go, provided I took the sleeping capsule the doctor had left for me.

“I’m still half-asleep, Lou. But leave it there, and I’ll take it.”

“No, Velda,” he said in a tone you’d use on a feeble-minded patient. “I don’t want you tearing through the hills.” He held the capsule out between his fingers. “Open your mouth.”

I opened my mouth and let him put the capsule on my tongue. I felt like a little baby robin. I giggled and realized I was still giddy from the shot that morning. But I had enough sense to work the capsule in between my cheek and my gums, so that when I swallowed the water Lou handed me, the capsule stayed in my mouth. He left the room, and I spat out the capsule. I went to the window and watched Lou raise the hood of my car and jerk something loose, then climb in his pickup and drive off.

I ran out and raised the hood. I stared at the mass of wiring for several minutes without finding anything loose. I got out the repair manual, opened it to a photo of the engine, and compared the two. There was something visually awry in the area around my distributor. I tugged gently on all the wires until I found the loose one; it was the connection to the coil. I connected it and tried the car; it started. I drove toward Lake Pillybay. I wasn’t sure where Curt would go, our last few meetings had been in the open, but he’d once pointed to a narrow cleft in a rock and said there was a cave inside. Frankie had found it once and showed it to Curt; as far as he knew nobody else was aware of it. I pulled the car off the road a quarter mile from the cave and piled branches over it. The distant yap of dogs sent shivers up my spine. I started walking, congratulating myself on my cleverness at outwitting Lou with the capsule and the car. Gradually I became aware of a coldness on my body. Only then did I realize I’d come out naked except for my thin nightgown. It was strange to trudge through the woods without underclothing; occasionally the wind whipped up my gown and gave me a chilling, intimate caress.