Chapter 10

They propped June up on Charlie's couch.

Her attorney jabbered nervously. "Poor kid. She's been through too much."

The hastily summoned doctor closed his medical kit. "She'll be all right," was his verdict. "Where do I send the bill?"

"My office," Charlie told him. "Bill the county, attention Judge Aiken's court."

The doctor left but the lawyer and police matron remained. June Ryan gave signs of returning consciousness. She murmured, half in sleep, "I'm so tired."

Her attorney, John Gray, annoyed Charlie. There was an old-woman quality about the youthful and inexperienced defense counsel's solicitude which Charlie found disgusting. He snapped, "My office looks like the waiting room of a bus depot. Please, leave now. You can wait outside for Missus Ryan."

Gray obeyed. And after a slight hesitation, the stout matron followed him. The door closed and the room was quiet.

Jane stirred on the couch. By chance, her skirt had swirled about her thighs. Charlie had an impulse to pull the skirt decently to her knees, then realized that he dared not touch her. Her firm hard breasts rose and fell as she breathed.

He pulled open the second drawer in his new desk and drew out a bottle of brandy, broke the fresh seal and drank right from the bottle, achieving no calm.

Slatted blinds shaded his street-level office window from the scrutiny of the public-but not from the muddled warbling of spring. He could not see the docks on the river, of course, but he knew little boys would be skipping along the banks. Above the river was the railroad trestle, where open boxcars, virtual ovens in the sun, were sometimes left on the single siding. Charlie remembered childhood, while he watched June Ryan, who looked and acted so much like a child.

The telephone rang. He picked it up and identified himself in muted tones.

Again he was in telephone conference with White-bank's Mayor Warren Bauer, who worriedly asked, "What's going on over there, Charlie? Is the Ryan girl all right? What's she trying to pull? Did you get her a doctor?"

Charlie frowned at the concern and agitation in the Mayor's voice and looked over fleetingly at the unconscious girl. "She's fine, Mayor. Just a bit overwrought."

"Look, Charlie, I have to talk to you privately. When can we get together ... discreetly?"

"Whenever it's convenient for you, Mayor. Evening would be best, I suppose." Charlie paused, confused. "Is it in regard to this case?"

"I'll explain everything when I see you," Bauer stated briskly. "I'll stop by your place tomorrow night."

"Fine. Fine."

The phone conversation ended abruptly and Charlie slowly took off his robes, his mind occupied with thoughts of Mayor Bauer's strange interest in the case. What was his connection with the Ryan girl? The obvious one? The possibility surprised and shamed Charlie and caused him to turn and study the young female on the couch.

Lovely. A valley of soft and earthy promise. Nothing would ever rob that from her. A body so formed that it would still be seducing young men when it was in its forties. A body with the kind of excitement and allure that only death would destroy. Those legs, those breasts, those hips ... so intensely female ... and that face, so intensely youthful and alive.

A murderess? Impossible.

The girl on the couch uttered a muted cry of hurt, prompting Charlie to step closer and place his palm on her forehead. Dry. Warm. He looked at her lips and saw that they were moist and full. Her eyelashes moved as his touch seemed to calm her and he noticed a pulsing in her lovely throat. A tremor rippled through her limp body and he followed it from her slim calves up the muscles of her shapely thighs to her flat stomach and finally, her wonderfully firm breasts. The lashes moved again and lifted slowly.

"Where am I?"

"You're perfectly safe, my dear. You fainted."

"Oh, yes, I remember now."

He helped her sit up against the cushions. "I had them bring you here so we could talk. I want to help you but you have to tell me the truth about what happened that night. All of it."

June Ryan sighed hopelessly. "You won't believe me. No one wants to believe me, not even my lawyer."

Charlie frowned. "Couldn't you have secured the services of a more experienced man? He's not doing very much to aid you."

The young redhead shrugged. "The court appointed him ... that other judge, the one before you."

"Oh, I see."

She trembled convulsively. "He wouldn't even set bail for me. I hate being in a cage, locked up. It's not fair, not right. I never did anything to deserve what's happening to me." She looked up at him, her eyes misty and pleading. "I don't have a chance, do I? They want to put me in jail and they're going to do it, aren't they?"

Charlie Aiken felt his insides tremble. "Just remember that the state must prove your guilt. You don't have to prove your innocence." He crossed to his desk and took the bottle of brandy from his drawer. When June declined, he poured himself a generous portion and gulped it down greedily, his mind alive with his secret thoughts. "Tell me what happened, June, and perhaps ... well, tell me all that happened to you that night."

She settled herself, her skirt high on her lustrous thighs, her cheeks showing a return of color. "I won't lie to you, Judge Aiken. You know the kind of life I've been leading. I was working the Kit-Kat Klub as a B-girl, hustling drinks, me and about five other girls who came to Whitebank when we heard it was opening up. One night two men I never saw before came and told all of us that we'd have to put on private shows after hours for special guests. You know, dirty shows. A couple of the girls didn't care but me and a few others said we didn't need the money that bad.

They got sore and told us if we didn't do like they said, we'd be sorry."

Charlie Aiken was listening with true and avid interest. He sensed that the girl was telling him the truth and this belief only made her story all the more fantastic. Such things in Whitebank? "Go on," he muttered, sitting down on the couch beside her.

June Ryan leaned back wearily and closed her eyes. "The night they came and told me to stay late for one of those shows, I said no dice and one of them slapped me. I told them if they got rough, I'd go to the police. They laughed and ... well, theyleTrme walk out. Naturally I figured I was fired and that there wasn't any use in going back to work again. After a few days my money ran out and...."

Charlie was made to realize that the lovely girl sitting at his side was about to tell him of her prostitution. There was a curious appeal to it and he felt himself tensing with anticipation. "Yes, yes, I understand...."

The redhead smiled gratefully. "You do? Well, anyhow, I started making the rounds on my own. I called up one of the girls I knew from the Kit Kat, Julie Hart ... the one they can't find now ... and asked her if I could use her place while she was working. She said okay and told me that on account of how I stood up to those two goons, none of the girls were working the late shows. I felt kind of good about it, you know?"

Charlie blinked and nodded vaguely, impatience flooding him, only a part of his trained mind filing and sifting the girl's claims. "Please, child, go on."

June Ryan moistened her already glistening lips and shifted her position to a more comfortable one.

"Later on, I hooked up with this fellow, Sandy. You know, Sanford Douglas. He seemed nice and he had money so ... well, we went to my friend's apartment. Once we got there, he started acting funny ... not nice, if you know what I mean. He wanted something special and I told him I wasn't interested no matter how much I needed the money. He got rough and we fought and made a lot of noise ... I guess that's why the neighbors called the police."

Charlie had trouble finding his voice. "Eh, excuse me, my dear, but ... you say he wanted something special...."

The vibrant redhead moved her youthful eyes over him in dubious appraisal and estimation. "I don't want to shock you, Judge. I mean, it isn't very ... nice."

Charlie smiled nervously. "It might be important to your defense, June."

She nodded finally and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

Charlie Aiken felt an electric current race through his quivering body. The terse descriptives, added to the luxurious scent of her perfume, inflamed his desires and made it impossible for him to remain at her side a moment longer. He rose, trying his best to appear in control of himself. "I can, eh, understand your refusal, my child. Terrible, simply terrible. What happened then?"

The girl patted at her flaming hair. "Well, after he calmed down a little, I went into the bathroom to wash. I heard him fixing himself a drink. He asked me if I wanted one and I said no. A few minutes later, I heard a funny noise. I went back into the room and saw him on the floor. I didn't have to look twice to see that he was dead. I got scared. I didn't know what to do. I figured maybe he had a heart attack or something, you know? I never once thought of the drinks he'd taken while I was in the bathroom. Anyhow, the only thing I could think of to do was run, get out of town. I needed money so ... well, his wallet was right there in front of me ... I know it wasn't right but I was so scared, I couldn't think straight." June paused, hugging her arms to her rich breasts. "Before I could get away, the cops came and ... well, you know the rest."

Charlie believed her story. He believed every word of it. The little-girl words and phrases, the easy flow of them, the look on her pretty face, all contributed to the aura of sincerity which cloaked her confusion. He was aware that she was watching him at that moment, as if trying to determine his reaction, and that her eyes were again misty. He walked over to stand before her and without thought, he smiled and caressed her cheek. "I believe you."

June Ryan made a tiny sound in her throat and clutched his hand tightly. "Will you help me? Do you think you can do anything to make them believe me?" She pulled his hand down to the point of one round breast and pressed his palm against the softness. "Hold me, please. I'm so scared."

Charlie felt his head clouding as she drew him down to the couch beside her. He was glad that she had taken on the aggressor role, lessening to some degree the guilt he knew would come at a later time. Her warm breath was a warning of damnation as she leaned close to him and the feel of her pulsing fullness beneath his palm reminded him of two other females who had sat on this same couch under very much the same circumstances.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the guilt, and put his hands in her lovely hair. The scent of it was sweet and yet sensual and as it engulfed him he felt as though he was falling from some great height. Suddenly her mouth was against his and the lips were opening and a low moan brought her breath flowing into him. He could feel the silken magic of her body worming against his own and her fingers stroking the nape of his neck. Then, too suddenly, she pulled back and he felt sick with loss.

"I think I could use that drink now," she murmured softly, her eyes veiled by her lashes, her cheeks showing rich color.

Charlie obeyed mindlessly, carrying two glasses back to the couch in trembling hands. They drank and he was unable to take his eyes from the rhythmic rise and fall of her marvelous breasts, so fully pronounced beneath the white blouse. "June," he mumbled, feeling obliged to make some pretense of respectability, "I hardly know what to say to you. My behavior is inexcusable. Please forgive me. It's just that you're so terribly ... attractive."

The lashes still hid whatever expression lay in her eyes as she smiled. "Are you saying you like me, Judge Aiken?"

"Very much."

"Enough to help me?"

"Yes."

"You mean it? You're not just telling me that so I'll ... be nice to you?"

He wet his lips and emptied his drink in a convulsive gulp. It took a moment for him to chase the cobwebs of desire from his brain. "I have every suspicion that your girl friend, this Julie Hart, told those two men that you'd be using her apartment that night. They went there and drugged that bottle, intending it for you. They probably decided to use you as an example to keep the other girls in line with their demands. This is all conjecture, of course, but it has some ring of reality to it."

June Ryan was frowning deeply. "You mean, they were going to kill me?"

Charlie wanted desperately to quell the mounting terror he saw in the wide open and staring eyes. "Try not to think about it, my dear. They failed and you're safe so there's no need to be frightened. All we need do is locate this Julie Hart and apprehend those two hoodlums and you'll be free to start life anew in some other part of the country."

"But do you think you can find them?" June blurted desperately. "I don't even know their names."

"We'll find them, I assure you."

She seemed to relax by visible degrees and with the loss of tension, her young body took on a tangible invitation. The sight of her, lounging on the couch, was momentarily unreal. She seemed so terribly out of place with the bookcases of legal volumes, the mahogany and leather fixtures, the slightly threadbare carpeting. Charlie cleared his throat and with it, his detachment, and his mind registered the fact of her smile.

"Do we have time?" she whispered seductively. "Time?"

"For me to be nice to you."

Charlie gulped and looked at the heavy door that was shutting out the rest of the world. It was a good question. Was there time for just one more weakness? For just one more betrayal of his sworn oath? "It isn't necessary," he managed to croak, praying she wouldn't take him at his word. "I'll do all I can on your behalf simply out of-"

She cut him short. "We don't have much time, Judge."

Charlie moved toward the couch, knowing it was more than just an act of gratitude on her part. She was wise to the ways of the world, accustomed to paying the price for any favors. She was seeking to cement his promised assistance in the only way she knew how and somehow, he couldn't blame her for it. There was no other way for the June Ryans of the present-day world.

The blouse disappeared and the brassiere opened easily. He touched the naked nipples and glowing flesh, first with his hands and then with his lips. She continued to move beneath him, shedding her clothes with an artistry that allowed his pleasure to continue uninterrupted. Then she was ready and ardent and firing him with a hungry mouth and bold fingertips.

Charlie punished her with desire. The room seemed invaded by spring. Youth charged him, engulfed him, pervaded him. All of love and passion and pleasure and desire was his. Chains of lifelong inhibition snapped apart, freeing him, allowing him the glory of utter abandon.

And lust, like time, like war, like fire, consumed him in his victory.