Chapter 7
Thus far his puny efforts had produced so little in the way of results that Richard was inclined to be skeptical as to whether Lily could help him. He remembered that Harrison had said something about Lily being Bull's girl, and it did seem likely that she was one of his victims; the jealous-husband bit fit. But Lily wanted to talk to him in confidence, which meant he could only hope that she would furnish him with another lead. Still, meeting Lily was better than lying around doing nothing.
A little before ten o'clock that evening, Richard left the house. He was fortunate in that, as a general rule, he didn't have to account for his comings and goings. As long as he announced that he would be out late,, he was left to do as he pleased, and more than once he had stayed overnight with a friend and arrived home the next morning to find that no one had been aware of his absence. On this particular evening, he simply announced that he was going to be out late and that no one need wait up for him, and nothing was said about it.
He went to Brownie's Tavern to kill time. Considering that it was a week night, the place was fairly busy, but he had no trouble in cornering an empty booth near the back. He drank his first whiskey and soda fast and nursed his second.
He wondered if he should have phoned Laura and told her he had a new lead in his effort to "take care of Bull Chapman"-whatever that meant; at the moment he wasn't at all certain that he knew-but he decided he was right in not doing so. If this didn't pay off, she wouldn't be disappointed.
The moment he had determined this, he saw through it as a rationalization. The fact was that he and Laura were no longer on intimate terms. They hadn't even kissed since "that night." When he had taken her out for a drive on Sunday, he had spoken his piece, and after that they had had little to say to one another. Whatever they had once shared, Bull Chapman had ruined it, and Richard had failed to salvage it.
The result was that it was un-likely that he and Laura would ever be married.
He hadn't thought of this before, and the idea had little impact now. It merely added to the dull sick ness he felt. That didn't change his obligation to do something about Chapman-if he could; but it did leave him feeling lonelier than he had ever been in his life.
Yes, he was sure of it-he had lost Laura. She didn't want to look at him, and he had no way of saying the right words to her. He might as well forget the whole deal and start living like a guy without a woman of his own. He tried to tell himself that his current way of thinking was merely the result of his deep depression, made worse by the liquor he was consuming, but he failed to convince himself.
He realized that he was staring at a man at the bar. The man was about thirty, tall and well muscled, with mean slit-eyes. He had the vague familiarity of someone Richard had seen around town for years and might even have talked to on occasion. The name Tad Wylie came to mind, and he wondered if the connection were only in his imagination. Maybe he did know who Lily's husband was. Then he heard a barman address the man as Tad: yes, this must be the husband. An uneasiness stole over Richard. He would hate to have this bozo catch him alone with his wife. He felt relieved when Wylie at last left, probably to go to work. He had another drink and watched the time tick by.
When it was well past midnight, he left Brownie's Tavern. He had no difficulty in locating Lily's house, and he followed her directions and approached it by way of the alley. From there, he could see that a light was on in the kitchen, though the shades were drawn. They were quite opaque, but slits of light showed like needles.
He looked around carefully and, as far as he could tell, there were no prying eyes. He crossed the lawn and went up on the porch. As he knocked on the frame of the screen, he wondered dully what he would do if Tad Wylie were to open the door.
The door was opened immediately and not by Tad. A woman's face, darkly framed with curly hair, looked out through a crack. She smiled and said, "Dick!" and opened the door for him. He went in.
He didn't get a good look at her until after she had closed the door. She was a very good-looking young woman, pink-cheeked and dark-eyed, and she was wearing an ankle-length pink peignoir over a knee-length white nightie. Not much showed through, but what showed suggested that she had quite a figure.
"My God, let me look at you," she said. "I've hardly seen you in years-just now and then at a distance on the street."
She was grinning at him and he tried to return a friendly smile. She was obviously glad to see him, and there was something familiar about her.
"You haven't changed, Dick," she said, "except to turn into a man and get a hell of a lot handsomer. Have I changed?"
"Got more beautiful."
She laughed. "I'm glad that you appreciate the fact."
Richard reflected that whatever Bull Chapman had done to Lily Wylie, he obviously hadn't killed her spirit He decided to get to business immediately. "Lily, what do you have to tell me about Chapman?"
Her grin faded. "Dick, I hope you don't take offense, but I've been worried ever since I called you. That Bull is a mean customer."
His slim hope grew slimmer. He thought of assuring her that he'd take care that she wouldn't be hurt, but in the light of what had happened to Laura, that seemed ridiculous or even pathetic.
Maybe it was the look on his face which made her change her tune. "Oh, look, I'm not saying I won't tell you, but I do think we ought to get reacquainted first. After all, a girl can't be too careful. Am I being unreasonable?"
"Of course not."
"Good." As she said it, she gave Richard an up-from-under look and smiled. It was a smile that suggested that they already shared intimate secrets, and it made Richard feel boyishly pleased and somehow a little embarrassed.
"Sit down," she said jovially, indicating the kitchen table. "Take off your shoes, open your shirt, make yourself comfortable-God, it's hot, isn't it! I'm dying!"
For the first time that day it struck Richard that it was hot. He'd been beyond any such observations, but now he found that he was wet with sweat. The night had brought no relief from the summer heat.
"I'm drinking ice water and Scotch sours," Lily said, taking a small pitcher of yellow liquid from the refrigerator. "I make my sours real sour. Is that all right with you?"
"Fine."
Richard had some trepidation about the sours. He'd never had one, and he'd already drunk three whiskeys that evening: his stomach was still warm with them. But then he figured that the ice water he'd be drinking would dilute the liquor. Or was extra fluid supposed to send alcohol into the blood stream all the faster? He had forgotten.
She poured the drinks and shoved one across the table to him. When he tasted it, he forgot his fears, for there was scarcely any alcohol taste at all.
"Like it?" Lily asked.
"It's very good."
"Finish it and I'll pour you another."
While Richard drank the rest of his sour, Lily came around the table toward him.
"Hey, you know, Richard baby, it's been ages, and you haven't even given me a hello kiss." Before he could speak, she leaned down, smiling at him, and put her mouth softly, then more firmly, on his. She held her lips there for a moment, moving but slightly, then pulled away, smiling again. "There. Now that's like old times." She sat down near him and picked up her drink. "And here's to new times."
Though Lily seemed unaware of that, the apparently innocent kiss had had an effect on Richard. Still at the tag end of his adolescence, he was far from having complete control of his body. On top of this, it had been a month since he'd had any kind of action whatever; it had been eight months before that that he'd last been with a woman. While not completely inexperienced, he was quite vulnerable, and the breach between him and Laura didn't make him any less so.
The result was that when Lily's lips moved to his, he felt a definite and uncontrollable tug. He tried to restrain himself, but it was several minutes before he began to feel at ease again.
And even thereafter he retained an awareness of Lily which he hadn't had before. He couldn't forget that she was a particularly attractive female, one with a built-in invitation in her eyes and a seductive body under her night clothes. The front of her peignoir came open, and he saw the unconfined movement of her large breasts under the lace of her nightie. As she leaned across the table to pour him another sour or some water, her breasts threatened to fall out, though she didn't seem to realize that.
She began to talk about high school days, mentioning teachers and students whom Richard had known, telling of amusing experiences she had had, and drawing anecdotes from Richard. Her sense of humor was infectious, and for the first time in over four days, he found himself relaxing and smiling without pain. It was as if. for the moment, at least, he'd found a safe harbor where he could relax from the problem and the despair which had beset him. He was in a comfortable kitchen, having a few good drinks with a beautiful young woman who liked him and made him feel good. He stretched his legs out comfortably under the table, and he felt a warm pleasure when Lily's legs happened to touch his. He found himself slipping off his moccasins as he talked and unbuttoning the front of his shirt to let the sweat run down more freely.
A weight left Richard's spirit. Laura and Bull Chapman and all that had happened could now be forgotten, if only for a short time. This was a respite during which he could gather his diminished strength and discover that there was still a possibility for joy and happiness in his life.
Lily seemed to have an inexhaustable supply of scandalous stories, most of them funny as she told them, about the people of Adamsville and her stories grew more scandalous and more funny as they continued to talk. She told about two men, the best of friends, who couldn't understand why their wives didn't get along. It finally came out that each wife thought that the other one thought that her husband was the better lover. The disgusted men had then brought them together and showed them that there was no practical difference, each bedding the other's wife to demonstrate that the performance was much the same, and the women had become friends.
In another case, a girl-whom Richard knew found out that her two best girl friends envied her very much for her boy friend, perhaps because neither of the girl friends had much romance in life. The idea of having the boy friend love either of the other two was, of course, unthinkable. But the girl solved things in a very satisfactory manner, from her standpoint. She asked her boy friend for a very special favor. He came to her house one evening and stripped, and she blindfolded him. He was honor bound to try no tricks. Then one of the girl friends entered the room and, never saying a word which might reveal her identity, proceeded to find her pleasure. A little later, the other girl came in and did the same, and both girls then went home, and the boy friend stayed the rest of the night. This solution had worked out so well that even after the two were married she continued to bring home an occasional girl friend to her blindfolded husband. She wasn't jealous in the slightest as long as he never knew who he was giving pleasure to, which kept things quite impersonal on his side. On the contrary, she was quite proud of her husband's ability to satisfy any female she brought home to him.
This story, on top of a number of others, reduced both Richard and Lily to helpless laughter. When they had both regained their breath, Lily stood up from the table, saying, "God, it's not cooling off a bit!" She plucked at her peignoir. "It's this damned nylon. It's the hottest stuff in the world."
With that, she took the pink garment off and laid it over a chair. As she went over to a small table radio and turned it on, Richard saw far more of her figure than he had before. Sweat made the white nightie cling to her hips and buttocks, so that flesh tones showed through. When the radio came on softly, playing a rhumba, and she turned toward him, he saw that the same thing was true in front; the nightie clung to her pinkly. He thought of incidents in some of the stories she had been telling him, and he averted his gaze.
"Do you remember the high school dances, Dick baby? Know how to rhumba?" '"A little."
He joined her and, smiling at one another, they danced to the end of the number. Then a twist came on, and they kept right on dancing.
Richard didn't quite know the variation she was doing, but he knew how to keep up with her and even to her, or so he thought. He danced with less inhibition than he ever had before, and it occurred to him that perhaps the sours had been stronger than he had thought: maybe a sour had a way of disguising the taste of Scotch.
As they twisted before one another, her hands move up and down in planes as if longing to touch his body, and his hands described her curves. She pivoted before him, wiggling her hips. Near the end of the number, she opened his shirt, started poking her forefinger at his stomach. Not to be outdone, he repeatedly thrust a forefinger at her soft breasts and then, in a burst of daring, plucked at them through the cloth but didn't release them, instead rolling them with thumb and finger.
The number came to an end. Lily knocked his hands away from her and, laughing, fell into his arms.
"Oh, Richard baby, I haven't had so much fun in so long! Why don't you give me just one more tiny kiss for old times sake!"
He had little choice. Her body was against his and her lips were moving closer. He couldn't think. Their lips met, and there was a moment of near-unconsciousness. Then Richard became aware that neither of them was moving, except for the slightest flutter of her lips against his. He became aware of the softness of her breasts, crushed against him, of the pressure of her legs against his, of his passion. He remembered learning that dancing was originally a prelude to love and still had that function in some places.
He didn't think about what happened next; that simply happened. He pressed against Lily. She leaned against him. Everything went hazy, and it struck him that he must be pretty drunk-drunk with liquor and getting drunker with Lily.
She stopped the motion of her body and pulled her head back, gazing into his eyes. "Thank you, Dick," she said softly. "Thank you. You don't know how much a woman needs someone friendly and sympathetic, someone like you. It's a man's world and a woman needs someone like you for a friend. You don't think I'm awful for kissing you like that, do you?"
"Of course not, Lily. I m grateful. You re wonderful girl."
"Oh, Dick...."
As she brought her face toward his again, one strap of her nightie came off her shoulder and the material slid off her breast. He had only a glimpse of a large pink-brown tip, tautly erect, before that hit his bare chest and was buried between them, a hard nub in the midst of softness. Again they kissed.
When the kiss ended, Lily stepped back from him. Her lips were thick from passion and her eyes had a sleepy glow. She glanced at her naked breast as if noticing that for the first time and casually pulled her strap back up, covering herself.
She shook her head to clear it. turned a smile on him, and said, "Well! Maybe that's enough of that! Care to dance?"
"I don't know if I could," Richard croaked, and suddenly they both bent double with laughter.
Richard staggered, and Lily said, "What's the matter, you're not going to pass out on me?"
"Oh no, far from it. I'm all right."
Lily turned off the radio. "I know what you need. Sit down in a chair."
Richard did as he was told, and Lily came up behind him and put her hands on his shoulders. "Now, relax."
For a full minute her hands ground and pinched his shoulders and the back of his neck, and that felt very good. But she wasn't satisfied. "We can do better than this."
She led him into a hall and into another room. When she turned on a lamp, he saw that this was the bedroom. Before he could formulate any thought or reaction, she said in a no-nonsense voice, "Lie down on your face. Right in the middle of the bed."
He did as he was told, and a moment later she started to massage his shoulders, then paused. She worked his arms out of his shirt and tossed that aside. "Now, don't go to sleep for me," she said. "I expect lots of appreciation."
He did appreciate the massage she was giving him. Strong capable hands worked over his shoulders and upper arms. They moved down, working and pounding every muscle of his back. "Hey, you're good!" he said.
"You're damned right, I am."
She shifted her position and started in on his upper legs and buttocks, but again she wasn't satisfied. Raise up," she said, "I want to unfasten your belt."
"Hey, if your husband-"
"He won't be home for hours, the bum. Raise up."
He let her pull off his trousers, and his socks went with them. He wasn't particularly startled at being asked to do this. He'd been to many a party at grad houses at school, and they had sat around on the floor, listening to jazz, drinking beer, and giving massages and back scratches. Slacks had come down now and then and bra straps had been unhooked, and that had all been very pleasant and sensual and had never gone any farther than that.
In those days, too, a massage of the legs had stimulated him, though not as much as now, with Lily doing that. Not only did she pound the muscles, but one hand slid soothingly over his legs. That shot shivers through him and, thanks to the alcohol, he didn't feel like fighting that. He let his pleasure build and felt wonderful. After a few moments, Lily grasped the waist of his tight shorts and pulled the back down in order to massage his bare buttocks, and he sighed with pleasure.
Her hands left him and her weight moved on the bed up to beside his chest. "Roll over," she said.
Sitting beside him, she went to work on his chest. But she didn't stay there long. Her gripping, squeezing fingers were transferred to below his ribs.
Then she did what he found he wanted her to do. She lifted the white fabric and pushed his shorts down his legs.
She sat looking at him for a moment. She said quietly, "You're good, Richard. I'll bet you'd be good for a woman." Then she put one hand out and began touching him-gentle touches, caresses, scratches, strokes. Both of her shoulder straps fell, and her nightie slipped down from her breasts. He had never seen any quite like them, so round and large with such extended tips.
He reached out and touched a breast, his palm turning, his fingers dragging. Lily sighed and pressed against his hand. Then she fell over on the bed beside him. She pulled herself against him so that they could kiss and she could move against his chest.
Richard had long ago lost his volition. Still moving a tip with one hand, he reached between them with the other.
"Richard," she whispered.
"Lily?"
"You're so good to me. You're making me feel-o good. I'll always be grateful to you."
"I should be grateful-"
"No. I don't know what I'd do without you tonight. I need you so. Oh, Richard, I need you."
She pulled away from him and sat up. She slipped her nightie over her head and threw that away. Then she lay down again.
He rolled against her. Then she directed him, and he took her.
Perhaps because of the alcohol, that lasted for a long time. Lily sighed and smiled luxuriously. She murmured his praises: "Oh, you're so good, Richard, you make me feel like a woman again. Oh, you're so good, such a man. You know what to do with a woman."
Gradually the pace picked up. Lily grew incoherent. Suddenly, she cried out. Richard kept working. Lily gasped and clutched at him. At last she called out, "I'm there, darling!" and Richard found himself at the last moment of agonizing pleasure.
When that was over, he must have dozed, for he was aware that Lily was trying to get him to drink a large mug of black coffee. He awakened quickly, and as he drank the last of the coffee, she began playing with him. His power and his need for her soon returned. He dragged her onto the bed with him, biting at her breast. "Baby, baby," she murmured, and he felt her mouth closing on him. They slid and shifted like two wrestlers. "Oh, Richard," she whispered, "make me happy again. I'll go crazy if you don't. Oh, I need you, lover." Richard, easing forward, began to please her. "Oh, thank you, thank you...."
And once again they worked until they broke through into the shattering end-pleasure.
The faintest light appeared at the crack under the shade, and Richard realized that soon he'd have to be going. He also realized that he'd been quite drunk and that he'd forgotten completely why he'd come here. Now he was sobering, but he was still subject to the sensual warmth of the woman who lay naked beside him, her head on his shoulder. Her hand moved over him and his passion began to return. He reached for one of her breasts, pinching, and she snuggled closer to him and moved her hand.
But time was running out and he had to talk to her. He tried to restrain his body.
"Lily, don't you think you'd better tell me about Bull Chapman now?"
"What about Bull Chapman?" she asked drowsily.
"Whatever you had in mind when you called me."
She laughed. "You'd better be careful of Bull, Dick. You're a good man on a mattress, but if he gets mad at you, he'll break you into small pieces."
"Maybe so, but ask him who bloodied his nose the other day."
"What have you got against Bull, Dickie?"
He didn't answer, and her hand continued to send shocks through him.
"He get wise with some girl you know?"
"Maybe something like that."
"If I were you, I'd forget him."
"It's not that easy."
"Oh, the hell it isn't! So maybe he tricked your girl. For one thing, she probably liked that no matter what she told you-I know I sure did when Bull first found me. And for another, why should you get all upset over your girl being with another guy when you've been with me all night? And don't tell me you haven't loved every minute." She laughed.
He listened to her with mounting horror and despair. "Bull put you up to-"
"To seducing you? Hell, no. This was my own idea, and man, was that easy! But look at things this way-Bull tried your girl and now you've seen his. And done a damned good job. So why go nosing around and getting yourself hurt? Relax and enjoy life."
"This is not that easy." His words sounded inane. They might as well have been talking different languages.
"Sure this is. Your little girl doesn't even have to know that you've been with another woman. Hell, you've turned out better than I ever expected, Dick, and I want you to come back! So just take life easy and live longer."
He felt utterly lost. Whatever he did, he showed himself to be a fool, a pawn others could manipulate as they pleased. They could rape his girl, they could seduce him, they could chide or spank him like a child, and he was left with nothing, not even his self-respect.
"I ought to go, Lily," he said mildly.
She laughed. She raised up to put her month on his chest. She bit, and teased him with her hands. She gave him a long kiss. Then she leaned forward to lower her great pink brown globes to his face.
"Not yet, baby," she said with a smile. "'Cause momma wants you one more time. And she's getting you."
He went home to bed, but he didn't sleep. Even the soporific effects of liquor and love could bring him nothing more than a light doze.
He got up at noon, took a shower, and ate a roll for lunch. Then he drove over to the Dale house.
Laura's father greeted him at the door, and he sensed that something was wrong: Mr. Dale was seldom at home on a weekday afternoon. His face was gravely worried.
"Richard," he said, "I wish you'd tell me-have you and Laura had some kind of quarrel?"
"No. sir." He wondered if it would be better to lie. "At least, nothing important. Maybe a mood-thing, if you know what I mean-"
"I mean something important. Perhaps your so-called mood-thing is more important than you realize."
"Is something wrong, sir?"
Mr. Dale threw up his hands. "I don't know! It would certainly seem so, and we've been thinking of sending Laura to a doctor. She's been acting so oddly lately, won't eat, won't talk, up in the middle of the night. At first I thought it was simply, well, the usual thing, but it's done beyond that. If you know of anything, if you think of anything that might be relevant, I wish you'd tell me."
"Yes, sir." Richard felt like a hypocrite. He had never known Mr. Dale to open up so and talk freely about his worries concerning his daughter. But he could tell the man nothing since Laura wanted him to remain silent.
Mrs. Dale told Richard that he would find Laura out behind the house. He located her sitting quietly under an arbor. She was staring straight ahead, and she hardly seemed to notice his arrival. Her small delicate face, framed by black bangs and long straight dark hair, might have been carved in ivory. Her eyes were blank.
"Laura are you all right? Your father is worried about you-"
"I'm all right." Her voice was as wan as her face.
He stared at her for a moment and then went on. The words came more easily than he had anticipated. "There's something I have to tell you, Laura. I promised you that I'd take care of Bull Chapman in one way or another, and I will. But so far I haven't done so well. So far I've flopped."
Her head didn't move and her mouth hardly moved when she spoke. "I want him dead," she said in a quiet monotone. "I want him not to be, any more. Richard, will you help me kill him?"
He was a nice young fellow. He was intelligent, perceptive, basically moral. He went to church with his parents now and then; he planned to vote responsibly. He shared the better values of the society he lived in. But lately he had learned that he shared something else with many a mild, quiet, upstanding citizen.
He had murder in his heart.
He remembered his intuition that he would at last come to this. Laura's question was almost a relief, and he smiled at her.
"Yes, Laura," he said in the full light of a summer afternoon, "I'll help you kill him."