Chapter 4
Bess Cridland stayed with Jed most of the next day, and made the weekend delightful.
But Monday morning at the office, he had to face again the same baffling unsolved problems that had exasperated him last week.
Jed sat back in his swivel chair, comparing inventory statements of the past year against those of previous years. They simply did not make sense. He had made some rough estimated comparisons, and, if his conclusions were borne out, approximately $10,000 worth of goods had vanished in smoke.
Jed cursed in the empty office. The door opened. Bess looked in.
"Did you call, Jed?"
"No," he said. "Or-yes! Come in and shut the door."
She came in, walked over to the desk. To see her standing there so quietly, looking neat and precise as usual in a brown checked dress with prim white collar and cuffs, one might not suspect how good she could be at making love.
"What is it, Jed?" she asked.
He swung around in the chair and drew her down in his lap. "I need a bracer, Bess. How about it?" His hand rested on her knee, ready to pull up the checked skirt.
She shook her head at him, her mouth stern, but her eyes mischievous. "In the office? What if someone came in?"
"I'll take that chance."
Her weight on his lap, and the way she was wiggling on his knees, aroused him swiftly. He pulled up the skirt to her waist, pulled up the slip. He opened his trousers, yanked down her girdle. She adjusted herself on his knees. His hands lifted her, lowered her gently.
"Um," she said. "Um-oh-oh-easy, Jed!"
He did it slowly. She cuddled into his arms, and he held her close and tight. When they were nestled close, he swung the chair around, around and around, laughing in her ear as she squealed. Her hips jiggled, she clasped his arms as they held her, and tried to pull away. He let her move a few inches, then pulled her back. His flesh moved easily against hers, became enveloped in warmth.
He nuzzled his head down against her neck and kissed the soft places under her ear. She leaned back, breathing in short panting breaths. Her mouth was open, her eyes closed tightly as he swung them around again.
"Oooh, JVd. Oooh-oooh-Jed."
He closed his own eyes as red lights began to blaze and dim his vision. She was sweet, oh, she was loving and giving. Fire was consuming him, flames licking through his thighs and back. It sent him soaring to the peak, orbiting into outer space in a roaring, blazing fire of passion.
When he recovered, he kissed her, and caressed her in gratitude. "You're a wonderful girl, Bess. Just perfect"
She smiled, and kissed his mouth lingeringly. She had stars in her eyes. He had better look out, not depend on her too much, he thought, watching her stand up and pull the girdle back in place to hide the white, throbbing flesh of her hips. She leaned over to straighten her stockings. He caressed the flank of her thigh as she stuck it provocatively close to him.
But when she had left the office, he was alone with the papers, and the inventory made no more sense than before.
If anyone but Dan Foust were in charge of the warehouse, Jed would have begun immediately to suspect the warehouse boys of stealing. With Dan there, that answer was out. Dan simply was incapable of stealing from Jed.
However, Jed reflected, it wouldn't hurt to have a talk with Dan, tell him the blunt truth, find out what Le had to say. He hadn't had a good talk with Dan for quite a while.
He called the warehouse. Dan answered. "I have to go down to the docks for some freight right now," said Dan ."How about meeting 'his evening, about eight, at the warehouse?"
Jed frowned, about to object. Why did Dan want to stay at the warehouse so late? Then he reconsidered. Dan was smart and cautious. He had always been that way, since the days when he and Jed had messed around the same neighborhood as boys. Dan probably had a good reason to meet him at the warehouse.
Jed did not go home after work. He had worked until six, his schedule messed up by a long-drawn-out conference with Russell Thorpe and some ad men in the afternoon. Russell had been at his blandest, refusing to make decisions, letting the conference turn into a tumultuous free-for-all. Jed walked out of the conference at five-fifteen, knowing that Russell was smirking after him.
Jed headed for a nearby bar, intending to get a sandwich and a couple of drinks, to wash away the anger and confusion he felt. Once inside the darkened room, he walked to a seemingly-empty booth at the back.
The booth was occupied by one man, hunched over a drink. Jed was about to walk away to a seat at the bar, when he recognized the man. On impulse he sat down in the booth opposite Larry Westfall.
"Hi, kid," he said calmly, as Larry raised his blond head and stared blankly at him. "The other booths are taken. And I need a couple drinks after a hard, hard day."
"Oh-yeah, sure," said Larry, blinking. "Need a couple drinks. Yeah."
He wasn't drunk. He was nursing a tall glass of Scotch and water, but the ice was melting in the glass.
His unfocused attention seemed due more to some inner turmoil than any drinks.
The waiter came over. "Scotch and water," said Jed. "And bring me a couple of hamburgers and a side platter of french fries."
Larry did not order. He was thin and lanky, his face pallid. Jed surveyed him with keen interest. He would guess that the thinness was due to neglect of food, the pallor due to neglect of exercise. What was wrong with the boy? He had a reputation as something of a playboy, but not as a worried, neurotic, spoiled kid.
"I sure need a drink," Jed said, making talk, waiting for something to connect, as the talk of Italy had connected with Edythe. "Rough day. Lousy conference to finish it."
Larry seemed to rouse out of his private hell. "Yeah? That's tough. I hate conferences."
"I'd rather do all the work myself," said Jed, as his drink was set before him, "than sit and listen to a lot of yapping." He took a long swig of the cold drink, and felt better as it turned warm in his stomach. He started relaxing, moving his shoulders to ease the ache of sitting hunched in a conference chair for four hours. "Russell Thorpe ought to be able to organize a simple ad campaign without yakking all day."
The indiscreet reference to Thorpe struck a spark in Larry, as Jed meant it to do.
"Thorpe? Yeah. He knows how to organize all right," said Larry, sharply. He picked up a cigarette with trembling fingers, and drew a long drag. "He knows, all right"
"Lots of experience in campaigns," said Jed idly, watching the approach of his hamburgers. "Say, how about some hamburgers with me, kid?"
"I don't care," said Larry.
"Two more hamburgers," said Jed, briskly. He bit into his enthusiastically. "Say, that's good."
Larry picked up one, ate it as though he scarcely knew what he was doing.
"That Russell Thorpe," said Jed, in a mildly complaining tone. "I do the work and he calls the conferences. I get fed up with the set-up. Why do some guys get stuck with all the work? I ask you."
"Some guys are clever, that's all," Larry's tone was dull. He finished his hamburger as the waiter brought the second plate.
The french fries were hot and crisp.
"Dig in," said Jed.
The boy ate mechanically. Jed tried to think of some way to get him to talk and say something revealing.
"Your sister came to see me about a week ago," Jed finally said rashly.
The boy came awake in a hurry. He sat up stifflv. "Sis? What did she want?"
"She was worried about you. She had heard about me knocking you down at the Club."
A dull red flush climbed to Larry's cheekbones. The dark blue eyes, so like his sister's, watched Jed sharply.
"She fusses," said Larry. "I told her it was nothing."
Jed took another french fry, and crunched it as though indifferent to the subject. "She seemed worried about you. Have you been helling around, sowing wild oats? I did at your age."
"I-no-well, yes. You might say so. I-play poker."
"Yeah? My vice at the time was dice. Gotten in debt?"
The boy jerked. He took another cigarette, then forgot to light it. "Yeah. That's it. Poker debts. Keeps me strapped for cash."
"I get the picture," said Jed, getting another picture entirely, and puzzled by it. The boy confessed too freely. So that wasn't his real problem. "If you get too hard up, and your sister won't let you have more, come to me. Glad to let you have some cash. I know from experience the wild-oats years go fast, and then a guy settles down and gets dull and respectable."
"Thanks. Uh-I won't need any now, but thanks. Maybe another time." Larry was pale again. He drained the glass, stumbled out of the booth. "Thanks for the food. I-ah-I'll see you around."
"Sure. Good-bye." Jed lifted a casual hand in farewell, and watched Larry go out into the night. Crazy mixed-up kid. What in hell had gone wrong? Poker debts, hell. He was in worse trouble than that. Something was eating deep into his guts.
Jed stayed at the bar until close to eight o'clock, then drove out to the company warehouse. He wondered again why Dan Foust was working so late. Nobody had asked him to keep late hours. They didn't have any huge shipments due that Jed knew about.
He parked in the huge lot, pulling up near the side entrance. The guard raised his hand to him. Jed waved, and went on in the side door. The office that Dan Foust used was near the side entrance, so he could oversee the unloading of freight from trucks.
Dan was sitting in the office, a cup of coffee at hand on his bare, scratched desk. Jed walked in.
"Hi, Danny."
"Jed. Pull up a chair."
Dan Foust was grateful to Jed for the warehouse job, but he did not blab about it, thought Jed, as he pulled up a rocking chair. They had been boys together. Dan's idea of gratitude was to do the best job he possibly could, even with only one arm. His right arm was off, halfway between the elbow and shoulder, shattered by a grenade in Korea.
Dan's left hand reached into a drawer, pulled out some papers that he handed to Jed.
"Is this what you want to talk about?" he said.
It was a copy of the recent inventory list that Jed had been checking.
"Yeah," said Jed. He flipped through the pages. "Is as much missing as I figured?"
"I don't know the cash value." Dan sipped at his coffee, his calm, dark eyes watching Jed's face alertly. "I know that two weeks ago when me and the boys started checking this out, we found a hell of a lot of boxes gone. Crates, big and small, cardboard cartons of stuff. It's real crazy. Gone in thin air. No signed papers. I thought you'd be over."
"I figure it's $10,000 worth disappeared."
Dan whistled between his teeth. "Have you asked Thorpe if he has some unreported orders?"
"Thorpe? No, why?"
"He's been down here nights. I started seeing his name often on the night watchman's sheet. So I thought I'd stick around a few evenings. It was real interesting the first night. He met three big toughs over at tho night watchman's shack, and the four of them strolled around among the boxes. That is, they did till they saw me watching them. Then they all scrammed."
Jed scowled down at the papers. It simply didn't make sense. "He's a stockholder. These losses come out of his own profits as well as ours. What the hell? Why would he authorize stealing-if that's what he's doing?
Dan's left hand, large, capable, the grime ground in, flipped as he shrugged. "Search me. You're the boss. You think."
"Just like in the days of the Dukes, huh?" They exchanged reminiscent grins.
Jed laid the papers back in the drawer. "What do you know about Larry Westfall?" he asked.
"It's funny you said his name," said Dan. "Coffee?"
"Yeah." Jed got up and picked a cardboard cup from the dispenser. Dan filled it from the battered pot. "Why funny?"
"I've seen him a couple of times with Thorpe."
"Here in the warehouse?" asked Jed sharply.
"Nope. In town. At a bar near my house. Saw them two different times, their heads together, talking, arguing. Seemed like the boy was drunk, or awful mad."
"Larry told me he had poker debts. Do you suppose he owes Thorpe?"
"The lousy poker Thorpe plays? Nope. Not unless the boy is awfully stupid. Is he stupid?"
"Not that stupid. Mixed-up. though."
They drank their hot, black coffee in companionable silence. Jed always felt better when he could talk things over with Dan, knowing what he said would go no farther. It was good to have one trustworthy guy around in a stiff competitive business like this.
"Russell Thorpe has some kind of hold on Larry," said Dan, finally.
"Hold? What kind of hold?"
"A kind of hold that no matter how Thorpe eggs him on, Larry doesn't smash his face in."
"Oh."
Jed rocked back and forth in the battered rocker. He had more problems than ever, but he felt better about them. Dan was a good guy for sharing problems.
"Well, keep your eyes open. If you can, phone me the next time you see Thorpe here with those guys. I'd like to come over and take a look at them."
"Okay."
They sat and talked idly for a couple hours more, about the times when they were kids in Blaine's Alley. Dan was a link from the past to the present. Jed felt sorely in need of such a contact, to help him make sense of his confused life.
He did not know where he was going, or what he wanted. Andrea wanted him to set a wedding date. Thorpe was up to something. His beautiful enemy, Edythe Westfall, was involved in something deep and troublesome, and so was her brother Larry. Jed felt like solving a lot of problems before he jumped into any new ones, such as marriage to Andrea could involve.