Chapter 11
He knew where he was heading without thinking about it. He whipped the wagon through the dark streets, driving toward Bull Chapman's apartment.
Chapman might have been right there in the Dale house, of course, but that was un-likely. He wouldn't have wanted to face Mr. Dale when he could just as well telephone. And he would want to go home and clean himself up before stopping anywhere to phone. Therefore the apartment was the first place to look. Richard didn't consciously go through the chain of logic; he leaped automatically to the conclusion.
He drove along Corona Street and pulled up on the far side from 1021. Looking up at the second story, he saw no lighted windows, but he couldn't be certain that 2-B was a front apartment.
He took his Colt out of the glove compartment, checked it for the second time that evening, and got out of the Nova. He left the key in the car and the door unlatched.
He put the gun in his pocket, went in front of the wagon, and crossed the street. Never hesitating, he went up the walk to 1021 and entered the small brightly lit lobby. He checked the apartment number again. Yes, it was 2-B. The inner door was still open. Richard went through it and up the stairs.
He found 2-B easily enough. It was one of two front apartments. He put a hand or; the button of his gun, making sure that he could get it out quickly and easily. Then he put a forefinger on a button by the door and leaned on it.
He could hear a buzzer inside.
After a moment, he took his finger off the button and waited, listening for any sign of life within.
He tried four times without getting an answer.
Since Chapman had gotten in touch with Mr. Dale, it was un-likely that he'd be afraid to open his door, and that buzzing should have awakened the dead. Richard was fairly certain that Chapman wasn't in his apartment.
Where was he, then?
Richard thought of Lily's house. Then he thought of Brownie's Tavern. Bull sometimes hung out there, it seemed; that was where Laura had picked him up only a few hours-or a lifetime-ago. And there were other gin mills where he might well be. "If Richard had been in Bull Chapman's place, he'd very much want to do some heavy drinking.
He headed back for his Nova.
Bull looked in through the door of Brownie's Tavern. Satisfied with what he saw, he took another slug from the quart he carried wrapped in a brown paper sack, and he headed for the alley behind Lily's place.
He hurried through the dark alley and across Lily's back yard with little caution. The kitchen was in darkness. The door was open but the screen was hooked. Bull gave it a yank, wood splintered and tore, and the screen swung loose.
Bull stepped into the kitchen. He couldn't see a thing. He yelled, "Lily!" and felt his way toward the hall as rapidly as he could. He banged noisily into something, a chair, lost his footing, and hit the floor with a resounding thump. He yelled again: "Lily I"
"What the hell?"
The kitchen lights went on. Lily was standing in the doorway, her hand on the switch, and Bull grinned at her. She was quite a sight, just the kind of sight he was looking for. She was wearing a pair of white pajamas, her husband's it seemed, for the legs and sleeves were rolled up. She had no difficulty in filling out most of the rest. The jacket, buttoned in three places, was shoved well out by her large boobs, and her tips made dark points in the cloth. She took a step toward him and stood feet apart and hands on hips, sweeping the bottom of the jacket open. Bull reached toward her, and Lily jumped back away from him.
"Bull, what the hell are you doing here?"
His bottle still in hand, Bull struggled to his feet. "Came to see you, baby. Came to give you a good time."
"Are you crazy? You get out of here right now-"
"Even brought my own bottle, see?" He threw the paper bag away. "Gonna give you a real party. You never had anything like you're going to get tonight."
Lily giggled. "Bull, you're drunk!"
"No, but I'm gonna be and so are you." He opened the bottle and pressed it to Lily's lips. When she resisted, he put one hand on the back of her head and pushed. She drank-a long swallow that set her to coughing.
When she had recovered, she grinned. She kept her voice low. "Now, you get out of here! I told you Tad wouldn't be on the night shift any more-he may be home any time-"
"Tad's in Brownie's getting loaded and talking to a couple of his dames. He'll be with them tonight, baby, and I'll be with you."
"You are crazy! You can't be sure-"
"I'm not sure-I know!"
And he did know. He knew because he was all man and everything was going to swing his way. He controlled everything, and he took any woman he wanted when he wanted her. He had never felt so powerful, so strong, so in charge of everything. If he wanted Lily now, he was going to have Lily now, and to hell with Tad.
He put the hand with the bottle around her back, pulled her to him, and grabbed a handful of boob, squeezing through the white cloth. Yes sir, no two kids could make a punk out of him-he'd show the whole damned world he was a man. He clenched his fist. "Bull, you're hurting me!"
He relaxed his grip on Lily and pressed his mouth on hers. He reached under her pajama jacket and found a cushiony boob, lifting, rolling, and rubbing that against its twin. He manipulated the big tip and felt that grow harder.
"Oh, Bull!" she sighed luxuriously.
"And you wanted me to leave I"
"But you must."
"Not if you can help it, baby."
Kissing her again, he ran his fingers lightly over her.
"Bull, Bull!" she sighed again.
Her fingers scrambled at him with a delicate teasing touch. His own hand moved, and Lily breathed harder.
"Damn you," she said after a minute, "now I have to have you. But hurry. We mustn't take too long."
She led the way to the bedroom, unbuttoning her jacket as they went. She climbed onto the bed. Bull opened his bottle, took a swig, and handed that to her. She took a couple of swallows as he tore off his shirt, then put the bottle on the bedside table. Bull pushed his remaining clothes down to his ankles, stepped out of them, and ridded himself of his shoes and socks. He stood up straight and tensed his muscles.
"How do you like that, Lily?"
She grinned at him. She unfastened the draw string and lowered her pajama pants. Arching her back, she said over her shoulder, "And how do you like this?"
He leaped up onto the bed and shoved at her. She fell flat, rolling over on her back. She squealed, "Damn it, Bull, that hurts!" and then giggled.
He hurt, too-more and more, as he looked at her, her jacket open and her pants down to her knees. He made her sit up, and he moved close beside her.
"Who's the biggest man you know?" he asked.
"You are, Bull. And who's the best woman you know?"
"Baby, you've got all kinds of proof."
He shoved her back on the bed. He took a globe with each hand and manipulated them.
"Oh, you're great," she said, "you're great!"
He slid down on the bed beside her, and she kicked off her pants.
"Love me, Bull."
He moved his face toward a swollen tip. "Soon, baby, soon."
"But we've got to hurry!"
"Soon, baby. Never say die."
There were several taverns in the same neighborhood with Brownie's place, and to save time Richard went into each one as he came to it. He parked his Nova near the first one, went in and took a fast look around, then hurried on foot to the next one. Nowhere did he see Bull Chapman.
When he came to Brownie's, Chapman was still not in evidence. He did see Tad Wylie there, which reminded him that Lily lived near by and that he had better check there next.
If Chapman were with Lily instead of out drinking, and if Tad were on the loose instead of at work, it was un-likely that Chapman would stay with Lily very long. Richard would have to hurry.
He ran to Lily's house. From in front he saw no lights. He moved as quietly as possible along the side of the house until he came to the bedroom window. It was open and a light was on inside, but the blind was down. He couldn't have raised or moved the blind because of the screen.
He listened for a moment. He thought he heard voices somewhere within the house, but he couldn't make them out. Then he heard footsteps and the creaking of the bed. A minute later a smooth low voice said something that sounded like, How do you like that, Lily?
There was no doubt about it, Lily had a caller named Bull Chapman.
Richard took the .22 automatic from his pocket. Lily had had him enter through the back door, and probably that had been opened for Bull, too. There was a good chance that the door was open now.
He moved swiftly but silently away from the window and around to the rear of the house. He went up on the porch, opened the screen carefully, and stepped into the lighted kitchen. He thumbed off his weapon's safety.
A series of thoughts raced through his mind so swiftly that they seemed simultaneous; they hardly had time to emerge into full consciousness. He fully intended to kill Bull. If he didn't succeed in doing so tonight, there would be other nights, and sooner or later he was bound to succeed.
But tonight there was another possibility, one which might or might not lead to Bull Chapman's death. If that didn't work out, Richard could probably count on meeting Bull later at the latter's apartment.
Seconds after stepping into the kitchen, Richard moved back out. He put the safety back on and stuck his gun back into his pocket, holding it there. He jumped from the porch to avoid making the steps creak. He hurried across the back yard and past the garage, breaking into a run when he reached the alley. He had realized that this was the shortest route to Brownie's.
When he arrived there, his heart failed; Tad Wylie was nowhere in sight. He looked carefully along the length of the bar-Brownie's was crowded on Saturday nights-and then inspected all the booths from front to back. Wylie must have left within the last few minutes. Richard wondered if there was some other place near by where he might find the man quickly.
At the door, he took one last look back into the room. Coming out of the men's room was Tad Wylie.
Richard hurried toward the big slit-eyed brawler. He stopped him with a hand on his chest, a hand which Wylie automatically brushed aside.
"Hey, you are Tad Wylie, aren't you?"
"Yeah, who wants to know?"
"If you're fast enough in taking a look in your bedroom, Wylie...."
Richard had to say no more. Deep hard ridges appeared in Wylie's face, his eyes turned to pinpoints, and his mouth shaped itself into an ugly snarl. A broad arm struck Richard's chest, knocking him aside and to his knees, and Tad Wylie bolted for the front door of Brownie's Tavern.
Richard climbed to his feet and ran after him.
Bull dug his hands at Lily and moved his face over her breasts. For the moment, at least, she had forgotten her haste, and he himself had lost his awareness of time. She had taught him a good deal about not hurrying the process of pleasure, and he wanted to make the most of her lessons. When you took a woman who fought you, that was one thing. When you took a woman who responded without a fight, that was another; you wanted to get all the reaction from her you could in order to make that better for yourself. Bull touched her here and there, making her jump and yearn for him, while her flickering hands and teasing mouth built his own pressure ever higher.
"I'm ready, Bull," she whispered urgently. "I'm ready and so are you. Please, Bull!"
"You want me bad, huh?"
"I'm dying for you!"
"And I'm the only man who can give you enough, right?"
"Why do you keep asking me things like that? I keep telling you, you're all man, what more do you want? Sure, you're the only man who can give me enough! Now, give, please!"
"That's right, beg for me."
"Bull, love me!"
Snickering, he shifted around on the bed. "Bull!"
He took her. "Oh, Bull...."
"Have you ever before known such a man, baby?"
"Never!"
"Not even me. Because I've never been so good as I am tonight. Tonight I'm the greatest."
"The greatest. Oh, you're such a man; tough, strong...."
That was what Bull wanted to hear. That was what he had to hear. He was a man, a real man, and nobody had ever proved any different. Whatever that Laura and that Richard might think-and they knew the truth whether they would admit it or not-he was a man! And he was proving that to a woman! A woman who was going crazy for him. He, as a man, a man!
Lily sighed. "Ah, Bull, Bull...." Her big round boobs, with their pink-brown buttons pointing, rolled from side to side on her rocking chest. They moved faster.
"Ah, Bull, I'm getting there."
"So am I...." That never happened.
There was a thumping of feet, which Bull scarcely heard. Hands gripped his waist, lifted him bodily, and hurled him across the room to bounce against the wall. Lily was screaming and Tad Wylie was coming at him. And that damned kid-Richard-was looking through the bedroom door; he had that funny little smile and those icy eyes.
Then Tad's fist crashed into Bull's ribs.
He tried to recover; he tried to fight back. He swung wildly and struck something-shoulders or a chest. But Tad's fists kept coming like pile drivers from nowhere. They crushed Bull's face and blood ran from his mouth.
It was all happening so fast.
Bull couldn't see Richard any more. He couldn't see Lily, but she was still screaming. Something like sledges was pounding into Bull, and his ribs were going. A sledge swung up on his jaw, and bone cracked and splintered. For a few seconds he couldn't see, and he thought he had been out on his feet. Then a sledge caught him in the middle, and he bent double, retching.
He caught the foot of the bed and held on to keep his footing. His vision cleared and he saw Lily kneeling on the bed. She was still screaming.
Tad whirled toward her. His open hand cracked back and forth across her face, and still she screamed as if she felt nothing. Tad had the face of a demon.
Now things seemed to be happening in slow motion. Tad twisted in the direction of the bedside table. One of his hands went up in the air and then came down to seize Bull's bottle by the neck. He swung the bottle backhanded and it connected with Lily's head, making a loud pop. Lily's scream was cut short and she dropped like lead, her eyes still open.
Tad raised the bottle again and brought it crashing down on the bed's headboard. He turned toward Bull, holding the jagged shards at waist level. I've got to stop him, Bull thought. Tad advanced toward him. Suddenly the broken bottle shot out at Bull, and he reached out to protect himself, only to find the ragged glass grinding into his face. He screamed, raised his hands, and jerked his head back.
Something like a set of hot claws caught him. He looked down with horror and saw nothing but blood gushing forth.
The broken glass came up to bury itself in his throat.
The lights in the room went hazy and he saw Laura and Richard and Lily and Tad and a young schoolteacher and a widow and many others and he had one thought: I wish I could die.
And he did.