Chapter 9
But Edythe did return to Jed's apartment. She refused to let him come to hers. She would not have dinner with him in public. Yet night after night, twice a week at least, she would come to his apartment.
She came, as though fighting herself, reluctantly, sullenly sometimes. He would woo her all over again, until she turned to molten passion in his arms, and they would go to bed. Eyes closed, body warm, she would give way to the passions that rocked her. He guessed that love had lain dormant in her for too long. She could not resist the fire boiling in her any more than a volcano can keep the pressures inside tightly bottled.
Between sessions, when they lay close, they would talk. She would talk about Italy, or her childhood, or abstract subjects, but never about Larry or her recent life. He became more and more curious about her. But not even when quite tipsy would she forget her reservations about certain subjects. So he learned to relax completely and enjoy the pleasure of her company without trying to find the answer to the many questions he had about her.
It was enough to have her beside him, her head on his arm, to be able to cup her breast in his palm, to tease her with lips and hands until she fired up and came at him fiercely. After an embrace they would lie closely clasped together, sighing, murmuring, reluctant to be apart.
Soon he was living only for the nights when she came to him. He laughed at himself, ruefully. He had never become so enslaved, so completely bewitched by one woman. No matter how much he had enjoyed a woman in the past, he had always been able to forget her and return to business.
Now, business seemed to have little meaning to Jed. The people around him were cardboard characters whom he scarcely bothered to talk to. Only Edythe mattered. He was completely alive only when they were together. It scared him, when she was out of his sight, to think how dependent he was upon her. If she left, if she grew tired of him, it would be unbearable. He could understand now a man who could kill in a furious rage, when a woman left him. If Edythe left-but no, she would not leave him.
Then, on a Friday night in mid-June, Jed was lying awake and sleepless when the telephone rang. He switched on the bed lamp, and peered at the clock. It was midnight. "Hello?"
The voice was husky, excited. He could not understand the whispered words.
"What? Repeat that. Who is this?" he said impatiently.
The whisper came again. "It's Dan Foust. Come to the warehouse!"
"Who-Dan!" Jed sat up in bed. "What's going on?" It had been so long since he had spoken to Dan that he had practically forgotten the matter.
"Someone's in the warehouse, prowling around. Meet me at the entrance from the parking lot."
"Right! I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Okay," Dan whispered hoarsely.
Jed threw on some clothes, black trousers, a black turtleneck sweater, black shoes, and raced out to the warehouse. He parked in a corner far from the warehouse to lessen the chance of betraying his presence, then walked over to the entrance. No lights were on except a couple of night lights. The entrance was pitch black.
He peered uneasily into the darkness. Then a hand grabbed his arm, pulled him to one side.
Dan's voice murmured, "Here, Jed. We'll go in this way, past my office, clear to the back. That's where they are."
"Who are they? Russell-who else?" Jed hissed, but Dan was already moving forward into the blackness.
He crept in Dan's footsteps, moving blindly. Dan knew every inch of the place, as he had known all the back alleys and hiding places of Pomona in the old days. Following Dan, Jed mused about the man, his friend of a lifetime. Dan had never married. Was it because of his missing arm? Was he more sensitive about that than Jed had ever realized? Some girl was losing out on a great guy, never knowing what she missed. He was loyal, tough, intelligent.
Dan stopped abruptly. Jed bumped into him, then peered around him at the scene before them. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness. He could make out a figure moving among the boxes.
The man was carrying a small flashlight. He would flick it on, shielded by his hand, peer at a box, flick off the light, move on to another box.
Dan and Jed watched curiously. The man was not big and bulky. He was tall, dressed in black or dark clothes, slender, wiry, quicksilver in his movements.
Dan shrank back, pushed Jed back behind him. Both heard the tramp of feet. The guard walked past slowly, carrying a huge square light that he held at his left side. His right hand was on a gun at his belt. He paced past. Jed studied his face, frowning. The guard was a stranger to him.
After the guard had passed them, Dan whispered, close to Jed's ear, "One of Thorpe's men. He hired three new men for the eleven-to-seven shift. All my men are on days."
Jed scowled in the darkness. He had been letting business details slip past while he was occupied with Edythe. He should have checked on this. And what about the stockholders? His business could go to hell while he was involved with a woman. Though what a woman, he added. She was worth everything. Even business, control of his company? Well, almost, but not quite.
Dan punched him in the ribs. At the same moment there was a yell, the sounds of a scuffle.
"Get him-hold that louse!" a man yelled.
"The guards caught him," Dan whispered. He held Jed back from dashing forward. "No. Let's see what happens. Russell Thorpe was here earlier. But that guy isn't Russell."
They watched the uneven fight for a few minutes. The intruder fought cleverly, punching, dodging, weaving. He was close to escaping when one of the guards caught him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.
"Okay, I got him! Now beat up the louse!"
The second guard flashed his light on the face of the man in black.
Larry Westfall! At sight of the white, bloody face, Jed dashed forward. The second guard whirled to meet him.
"Hey, bud, none of that!" called Dan sharply. "It's me, Foust. And this is the boss."
The guard peered at Jed, flashing the light blindingly in his eyes. "This ain't Thorpe," he said sharply.
"I'm Jed Kingsley," said Jed. "You men go about your business. I'll take care of this."
The guards hesitated.
"Go on, beat it," said Dan. "Larry, we'll go over to my office."
The guards glared suspiciously, glanced at each other. But Jed took Larry's arm and pulled him with him. Dan led the way back to his office.
Dan switched on the lights. Larry's face was pallid. Blood dripped from ine corner of his mouth. He was shaking with nervous tension.
Jed tried to stop the bleeding with his handkerchief, but the cut bled on. There was a darkening bruise near his eye. The sight of the blond-haired boy was knocking Jed for a loop. He looked so much like his sister.
"I'll take him back to my place," he told Dan. "You want to come?"
"No, I think I'll stick around a while," said Dan. He was eyeing Larry with a cool measuring gaze. "I'd like to know first why you're snooping around this warehouse."
Larry glared at him sullenly. He had not spoken a word.
"Okay, take him," said Dan. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Jed."
"Right. Come on, Larry." Jed pushed the boy gently to the entrance. "My car is over there." He let Larry go first, keeping a wary eye for any possible escape. But the boy seemed to move in a daze. He got into Jed's car obediently, holding the handkerchief against his mouth.
Halfway through town, the boy seemed to come out of his daze.
"Listen. You don't need to worry about me," he said nervously. "Let me out anywhere around here. I'll get home."
"We have some talking to do first," said Jed curtly. He noticed Larry had his hand on the door handle. "And if you hop out and get away, I'll report you to the police for breaking and entering the warehouse."
"Go ahead and report!" Larry flared out.
"And let your sister bail you out, huh? She must have a full-time job, bailing you out of all the trouble you get into!" Jed was disgusted with the kid.
Larry gave him a strange, long look, then settled back in the seat, leaned his head back and waited for them to arrive somewhere.
Jed parked in the apartment garage and opened his door. He watched Larry to see if he would break and run for it, but the boy went with him up to his apartment.
Inside the living room, Larry stood and looked around curiously.
"Come in the kitchen," said Jed. "I'll get something for that bruise. Has the bleeding stopped?"
Larry took away the handkerchief, and the blood dripped to his chin. "No. It's still bleeding."
"I'll get some ice."
Larry followed Jed out to the kitchen. He sat still while Jed fixed an ice pack and clapped it against the bruise. Jed gave him a cold, wet washcloth for the bleeding mouth.
"I'm a mess, huh?" said Larry. The side of his mouth not covered by the cloth twitched in a sort of wry smile. He looked startlingly like his sister, the slim height, the blond hair, the dark blue eyes so watchful and wary.
Jed drew up a chair opposite the boy. "Okay. What were you doing in the warehouse?"
"Snooping," said Larry, his eyes half-closed. "Why?"
"I'm a born snooper."
Jed glared. "This isn't funny! We've had serious shortages of materials at the warehouse. Is this the first time you've been there?"
"I didn't steal anything."
Jed sighed in exasperation. "Then why in hell were you there?"
"Snooping."
"I should have let Thorpe's guards beat you up!"
"Thorpe's guards?"
"Yeah."
"Not yours?"
"He happened to hire them." Jed changed the subject. "You're a member of a rival business firm. We catch you prowling around our warehouse at midnight. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't put you in jail."
The boy shrugged. "I was just looking around. But put me in jail if it makes you feel better." He laughed shortly. "I'm in more trouble with Thorpe than ever, so-" He stopped abruptly.
"So?"
"So nothing matters," Larry finished flatly, his telltale eyes practically shut.
Jed studied his face, deeply troubled. He did not feel that Larry was an enemy now, any more than lovely Edythe "was. They were rivals, but if Edythe was his enemy he could only hope she kept on being such a delightful one. Battles like theirs he could thrive on.
He caught his straying thoughts and considered the matter. If he had Larry jailed, the boy wouldn't talk. If he let Larry go, his sister might-in gratitude-begin to talk.
"How do you feel now?" he finally asked briskly.
The boy shrugged. "I'm all right."
"Where's your car?"
"At the warehouse."
"Oh. I'll take you home, then. You can pick up your car tomorrow." Jed got up, and began to clear the kitchen table of the ice trays, clothes, washbasin.
"No jail?" asked Larry.
"Not this time."
The boy was silent on the way home. Jed was interested to notice that his home was a small apartment building about four blocks from the address in Edythe's pocketbook.
Larry opened the car door, hesitated. Jed waited.
"Say-listen," the boy blurted. "You'd better watch for a stab in the back." He got out of the car, slammed the door, and raced into the building.
The words haunted Jed all night. He didn't get much sleep. He kept having the same nightmare.
In his dreams he was wandering around in pitch blackness. Then a blazing light flashed on, so bright that he blinked. A slim, tall figure in black struggled with a man Jed recognized as Russell Thorpe. Jed tried to stop the fight. The slim figure fell to the ground. The pallid face, closed eyes, and bleeding mouth were clear in the blazing light. It was Edythe, and she was wounded, dying.
Each time he woke in a cold sweat and sat up, cursing softly.
The next day, he tried to reach Edythe at her office, but it was Saturday.
"Miss Westfall is not in the office today," the impersonal voice of the switchboard operator assured him.
He could call her at home, but that would reveal he knew where she lived.
They had made no date for that night. She had been with him on Thursday night. That meant he probably would not see her again until Sunday or Monday.
He had a date with Andrea that evening. They went to her favorite place, the Maplewood Country Club. Andrea busied herself with table-hopping. Jed refused to go along, and that made her angry. They quarreled, left the Club early, and returned to Jed's apartment.
She finally tried to placate his anger.
"Jed, we've grown apart," she said earnestly, fingering the glass he had handed her. "I don't know what's going to happen if we keep on this way."
"I get tired of that crowd," he said roughly. He could scarcely bear to look at Andrea, because it reminded him so vividly of the way Edythe looked as she sat in that very chair. He gulped his drink.
"But they are my friends, my dearest friends. I've known them since childhood!" She was pouting.
"I thought you said the Greens were new in town," he reminded her coldly.
"They are. But the Fabers are introducing them around, and I've known Joan Faber since we were girls in kindergarten."
She went on and on, then sensed he was all the more angry She came over to him, and put her hands on his shoulders.
"Jed, honey, I know what's wrong," she said confidently, smiling down at him.
He started. Had she heard gossip about him and Edythe?
"What is wrong?" he asked harshly.
"You want to make love to me," she murmured. "You're afraid to ask any more. Darling-don't be afraid of me."
She was so far wrong he wanted to laugh. But that would have hurt her feelings. So they made love. It was a failure. Jed no longer loved, desired, or wanted Andrea Searle. She was too cool, too precise, too passionless, too calculating.
No, he thought, bending over her, kissing her throat as she lay naked beside him. It wasn't fair to say it was all Andrea's fault. Jed had lost interest in her. He had found the woman he wanted, full of passion, fire, complexities, mysteries, a woman who absorbed all his energies and thoughts. He didn't feel like bothering to rouse Andrea out of her well-bred cautious nature.
She knew it. After their mutual failure to find release, she railed at him.
"It's all your fault wanting to make love to me before we got married! If we had gotten married first, this wouldn't have happened!"
He was too exasperated to be kind. "If we had gotten married, you mean it would be too late to back out? Now that we are bored with each other?"
"Bored! Oh, Jed!" She wept, daintily, and he felt like a brute. "Mother warned me! She tried to tell me the dangers of loving a man like you, not in our set."
He stiffened, then relaxed. He deserved that. He had tried to crash her social set. Too bad the social set bored him as thoroughly as Andrea did.
"Next time, listen to your mother," he advised. He lay back, arms under his head, scarcely listening as she rebuked him and wept and berated him and got dressed.
"We are through," she said, when she was dressed and ready to go. She took the engagement ring from her finger. "Next time-oh, Jed! You can be so cruel."
"I'm sorry. But it is better to find out before marriage than after," he said.
"You never really loved me," said Andrea. "You never wanted to set a wedding date. You always put it off. I should have known then."
She did not bang the door when she left. Andrea was usually a lady. Nevertheless, he knew that her exit was final. He felt only relief, no regret.
She was quite right. He had kept putting off their wedding. Even in his elation at being engaged to a girl of the highest social rank in Pomona, he had felt serious qualms about what would come later, what price he would have to pay all his life for the privilege of marrying into that set.
He turned over, and thought about Edythe. Where was she tonight? What was she doing? Was she asleep or awake? Did she know about Larry? She never telephoned him on Sundays. He would probably have to wait till Monday to hear from her. Unless anxiety about Larry made her call earlier, or come to him.
"Edythe," he murmured longing. "Edythe. Edythe. Edythe."
If there was anything to mental telepathy, he would have ordered her to come to him at once, tonight, to ease his loneliness, to delight him with her every charming way.
But she did not come.