Chapter 5

Shortly after leaving Laurel Payne naked in the woods, Lee Windsor kept an appointment with his psychiatrist. He showed no agitation and was obviously in complete control of himself.

He lay silent on the couch for perhaps five minutes before he spoke. Then he said, "I was talking to a woman this afternoon and I said something that surprised me."

"What did you say?'

"That isn't important! But it brings me to this question. Do you believe that a man can avoid a greater crime by committing a lesser one?"

"That's not a question. It's the opening for a discussion. There are too many facets involved."

"All right, do you think that a man with kleptomania could avoid stealing a diamond in a jewelry store by stealing a cheap bracelet?"

"Certainly The urge overtakes the man. He sees the diamond. He realizes its value and is frightened.

But he still has the urge so he snatches a bracelet and leaves the scene of temptation."

"That doesn't quite satisfy me."

"It's your answer as I see it."

"But let's take a situation of broader aspects. Suppose one man bears a great hatred for another. A wrong had been done to the first man by the second and the first man wishes his enemy's death. But he does not wish to kill so he beats him badly. Would that quiet the murder wish?"

"Again we come to the individual involved. With some men, it might. But by the same token, a man who in essence reduces a death sentence to a beating may also, after further thought, cancel the whole charge and give his enemv an unconditional pardon."

Lee Windsor stirred restlessly on the couch.

"That still doesn't answer me. You said some men might do that. What might others do?"

"Another man might kill his enemy while inflicting the lesser punishment."

Again, he stirred. "I guess there isn't any answer," he grumbled.

After a few moments of silence, the psychiatrist said, "There's a question T'd like to ask."

"Go ahead."

"We've made some progress during these sessions that you won't admit to me, haven't we."

"What do you mean?"

"We found a block that centered around a certain night in your life when you were in high school. An automobile crash was involved. But there was something else that night also, wasn't there?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do. I think you're holding out on me."

"Let's say, for the sake of argument, that there was something else I remembered. Let's say it came back to me. Isn't that the objective of these sessions? What I mean is, do I necessarily have to tell you?"

"No, not necessarily. Not if it doesn't set up a new problem you have trouble with."

"What would you say if I told you I raped a woman this afternoon? Would you believe me?"

"I might, and I might not. Are you telling me that you raped a woman?"

"No, but I'm not saying that I didn't."

"I'm more interested in that night when you were in high school. What are you doing about the thing you remembered?"

"What makes you think I'm doing anything."

"I have no way of knowing one way or another."

"Yes, I'm doing something about it."

"I gather you're exacting a retribution of some sort."

"You might call it that. I prefer to say that I'm protecting myself from doini something that will damage me."

"Then when you referred to murder it wasn't on a completely objective basis?"

"Are we ever completely objective."

"Now you're evading."

"Suppose you read in the paper tomorrow morning that I'd killed five people? What would you do?"

"I'd be very much surprised."

"Would you go to the police?"

"No, but I imagine they'd come to me.'

"What would you do when they came to you? Answer all their questions?"

"That all depends on what the questions were. The only place a psychiatrist is even faced with such decisions is on a witness stand in a court of law."

"Well, I'll relieve your anxiety to this extent: I didn't kill five people. I haven't even killed one person."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"What would you do if I convinced you that I had?"

"Only what I'm doing now; tell you that the time's up. I'll see you as usual on Friday?"

"Oh, I presume you will. But if one of these days I don't show up and you never see me again, don't be too surprised."

"I won't. A psychiatrist learns never to be surprised by anything."

Later that night, at approximately ten o'clock, Grace Bevins sat on a stool at the bar of the Sundown Club. It was a nice bar in a better section of the city, filled with attractive people and Grace was by far not the least of these. She had much to justly merit the appreciative regard of the men around her.. Her coloring was on the dark side-raven-black hair, an olive skin, a Latin cast to her features. These assets, combined with a stunning five-foot-four figure put her in a class where she was envied by most women who made a business of envying other women.

Also, there was goon reason for the hope that arose in the unattached men in the bar. Grace did not discourage male attention. She did not exactly throw herself at male heads, but wolves with even mediocre experience knew the possibility of striking pay dirt was there.

The evening had not started well for Grace. She'd had a date with one of her more or less permanent male friends; but it bad been broken. This annoyed Grace. She had little enough time, with Mike not on the road as much any more.

So, not wanting to waste any of her time, she had come to see what the Sundown Club might yield.

There were quite a few eager, attractive men, but the one with the odd face interested her most. His face seemed strained somehow, but it was attractive. And the man himself was more aggressive than the others. He wasn't devious

"May I buy you a drink?"

Grace went into the usual routine. "Well-I was waiting for a friend "

"That's all right. If he comes. I'll retire gracefully. You can say I'm the delivery boy who brings your groceries."

Grace laughed. She was drunk enough to see real humor in the remark. This one might prove to be among other hoped-for things a lot of fun.

"My name is Thayer," he said. "Vincent Thayer."

"Do they call you Vinny?"

"Some people do. You may."

"Thank you. I'm Grace Steele "

Grace never used her right name in bars and always stayed away from the Mrs. That dampened too much ardor.

"I'm happy to know you."

They touched old fashioneds and drank.

"This is a nice club. T come here once a while for a quick one. Of course, I never come alone except to meet someone."

"And now you've met me."

"So I have." Grace stifled a hiccough. This was her sixth old fashioned, the boys being a little slow tonight, and her safe limit was four. "I think you're very nice," her sixth old-fashioned said.

"I think you're nice too."

Her intoxicated coyness did not spoil her beauty but it didn't help her any. either. "You do? Tell me."

"This is hardly the place. A woman should be told those things under the moon."

"There's a moon tonight "

"What a coincidence," he murmured, and Grace laughed. He was very clever, and a very nice man. "Have you got a car?" she asked "I'm afraid not. I walked over from my hotel."

"I've got a car."

"That's wonderful."

"Do you drive."

"Quite well."

"I think the man should always drive, don't you?" He nodded. "Makes things look better. Shall we take a drive?" , "I could use a little an

Grace lay back on the seat and closed her eyes.

She giggled. "Everything's going around. The stars, the moon, the road."

"That will pass."

"Where are we going?"

"I know a quiet little place you might like."

Grace giggled again. "Drive on, MacDuff."

"We'll be there shortly."

Grace went to sleep A rare occurrence but then she rarely drank six. old-fashioneds.

One tiny corner of her brain continued to function, though. She felt the car stop; at least she felt something stop and hazily decided it was the car. Then she thought she was being moved but she couldn't be sure.

Her next conscious sensation was that of a hand against her leg under her skirt. The small portion of her brain that was functioning considered this. That wasn't anything new. At this stage of the game hands usually went under her skirt. But then, she was usually around to supervise the speed of the operation. Now she seemed to be far away, observing everything.

Somebody was ungartering her hose. Now why should a man do that? she wondered Hose never got in the way. She was out of the car now, definitely, but neither standing nor lying down. The ground under her was soft and she was lying slanted against something. A tree?

She returned her attention to what the hands were doing to her clothing. The stockings were gone now and there wasn't as much pressure around her hips as there had been. That meant her garter, belt was gone. And fresh air billowing up underneath meant that her panties had now been removed.

She giggled. This was very funny But then she was cold.

With much determination, she began forcing more of her brain into action. After all, she had a right to know what was going on. And she retrieved enough consciousness to find out. At least she found out what had been going on.

She was stark naked in a grassy kind of place with trees all around.

Alarmed now, she began struggling to her feet. Dimly, she saw the man what was his name? standing nearby. But he merely stood there. He did not help her.

"W-wha's the big idea?" she mumbled.

"You must dance."

The world spun around her, Was she hearing right? He said she had to dance. That was silly. They weren't in a dance hall. She clung to the tree.

"Wha' you doin' here?"

"You must dance."

"You're crazy."

Her whole being seemed to explode in shock and it took her mind a minute to catch up. He'd thrown water on her! He'd hit her full in the face with a slug of icy water he'd gotten from the creek she could hear gurgling nearby.

"Ghaa!"

Her exclamation was wordless and full of terror, but she was comparatively sober instantly. "What're you doing to me?"

"I was sobering you up," the vice said gravely. "First, you must dance."

"You're crazy!" she sobbed. "I want out of here. I want to go home!"

"First, you must dance. Then...."

She tried to run but she made a sorry job of that. Three steps, and she went flat on the-ground. "Lemme go!" she sobbed. "Lemmi go!"

That grave, concerned voice again. "I'm sorry to do this to you, but this has been done before."

And without further warning. Grace cold sober now was scrambling and craw fishing desperately over the grass trying to come to her feet, trying to escape the painful contact with the hand that was helping her in a way unimaginable outside the most vicious, decadent pornographic film.

"Ghaa!" Her wordless exclamation again, her plea against the heartless brutality, but that brought no mercy. She was obscenely frogged to her feet, where she reeled and moved in a grotesque, hopping circle until the vile punishment ended.

"Now you must dance."

"I wanna go home."

"Dance."

"To hell with "

Something stung her, cutting around her ankles like a flexible knife. She shrieked. "Dance."

"All right-all right."

Grace began hopping up and down there in the moonlight. She was crying and her dance was to the rhythm of her sobbing.

"Leave me alone. Please leave me alone."

The grotesque hopping that the madman accepted as a dance went on forever, it seemed to Grace. Then he stepped back, satisfied. Grace dropped to her knees and crouched there, the nightmare into which she'd stumbled swirling around her.

"You're fortunate," the grave voice informed her. "Everything ends here With you, the final act isn't necessary...."

Mike Bevins had been pacing the floor for hours. His anger had become monumental. End it! That was the only answer. When you had a tramp for a wife it was the only thing to do.

He'd hoped and hoped that there would be a change for the better in Grace. But if everything, she had grown worse. Tonight was the last straw. He'd give her what he had, buy her off. divorce her, and head out for other places. Eventually, he hoped, he would look back on this marriage as a bad dream.

He paced some more and again debated combing the bars. But that would do no good. She wasn't in a bar by now. Some guy had long since picked her up and had her in bed. He could only wait, telling himself he really wasn't worried; that she'd always landed on her feet and always would. That was how life was for tramps.

The doorbell rang. Mike frowned. What in hell? She had a key. Her bit was to open the door softly and try to slip into bed before he woke up. Then she'd swear she'd been there all the time.

"Mike, please let me in "

The call came faintly and a chill went through him i as he rushed over and threw the door open He stood transfixed

It was Grace, but a Grace he had never seen before. Her stockings, vingartered, were bunched around her ankles. Her hair was a rat's nest of disarray. Her dress was unbuttoned down the front with only naked skin under it. She carried her panties and bra in her hand.

"Mike, let me in I was raped..."

"Not raped exactly; I guess oh, I don't even know what I'm saying!"

It was an hour later now. Mike had gotten Grace's clothes off and eased her into a hot tub. He accepted her protestation that she did not need a doctor, adopting a wait-and-see attitude He'd bathed her tenderly, pausing to hold her during, the spasms of hysteria that lessened as the comfort and warmth of home seeped back into her bones.

Then he'd taken her from the tub, toweled her gently, and he now had her in bed.

"I guess we can wait for the doctor until morning at least. You seem to need sleep more than anything else. I'll give you a tranquilizer-"

She clung to his hand. "Not yet. I want to tell you, darling. I must tell you what happened."

He watched her and held her as a sob escaped. He had never before seen her this way. Grace uncertain and afraid? It seemed incredible. Grace, who went anywhere at any time with men, friends and strangers alike. Grace who had been the luckiest of women but who had now become the victim of the law of averages.

He stroked her hair. "All right," Mike said, "Tell me if you want to."

She looked beseechingly up into his eyes.

"First, Mike, I want to talk about something else."

"What?"

"Us."

"Don't you think rest is more important right now?"

"No no. I must" talk."

"All right."

"Mike, I've been a very bad wife." He held her close. "Take it easy, honey."

"A bad wife to a good husband."

"We've made out."

"That's because of you because you're so good. But I've been bad. I went out with men while you were working, Mike. I cheated on you."

"Grace, please."

"I'm sorry, but I've got to say this. It's very important. This could be the end for us, or a new beginning. That all depends on what you want."

"You know what I want, honey."

"But after my telling you? There-there have been quite a few men. Mike."

"I've known about them."

"Why didn't you say something do something beat me?"

"There wasn't much to say, was there?"

"I guess not. But Mike, that's over. I knew that tonight, out there with that madman. That was over. I always went around looking for something. You could call it glamour, I guess, plush night clubs, smooth people. They were so important to me all that glitter. I guess I never grew up."

He held her and 'et her talk.

"But tonight I saw all of that for what it was: cheap, shabby, sickening. And I saw myself for what I'd been. A stupid little tramp "

"Grace!"

"It's true, darling. A cheap little tramp, letting men take advantage of me while they were laughing behind my back."

She buried her face against him, and after he'd held her for awhile, she looked up at him and he wiped away her tears with the edge of the clean sheet he'd put on the bed.

"Do you want me back, Mike? I want to come back, oh, so badly. Dc you want me back?"

"You've never been away, baby."

He expected a fresh burst of tears, but they didn't come. The emotionalism seemed over. She looked at him gravely, solemnly

"Thank you, darling "

"And now you'd better, go to sleep."

"I want to tell you the other, first. This man. I met him in the Sundown Club. I drank too much and he took me for a ride in my car. He drove. He took me out in the woods and when I came to, he'd undressed me. I I was naked, Mike."

He said nothing.

"Then he got some water from the creek and threw it on me to wake me up. After that, he made me dance."

Mike had been staring at the wall. He lowered his eyes slowly and looked at Grace. "What did you say?"

"He made me dance there in the woods naked. He got a stick and whipped my legs and made me dance.

Mike shifted his eyes and stared at the blanket on the bed. "Then what?"

"Nothing. Except that he was so strange. He said something about that being as far as it had to go with me.

"He said that was as far as it had to go with you?" Mike spoke dully, as though he viewed it all with disinterest, or as though he were under mild shock.

"Yes. He didn't even touch me except to undress me. After he made me dance he stood and watched while I put my own clothes on."

"Then he drove you home?"

"Yes. He left the car out in front and walked off down the street." Again, Grace clung to him. "Oh, Mike! He was so strange' So weird. As though he hadn't wanted to do that at all. He was some kind of a madman."

"What did he look like?"

"That was odd, too. There was something about his face. Kind of tight, if you know what I mean. He was attractive enough, but his face seemed to be stiff. When he smiled you got the idea hf had to do it consciously with an effort."

Mike stared at her in silence for a moment, and then he shook himself.

"All right, honey. Nov; you've told me. Are you ready to go to sleep?"

"Mike, you won't go to the police, will you."

"You don't want me to?"

"I just want to forget everything. I'd die if I had to get up in court and tell about that in front of people."

"We'll talk about that tomorrow. I'll get you a capsule now..."

He gave her a tranquilizer and stayed with her until she dropped off. Then he went into the living room, leaving the bedroom door open a crack, and began to pace the floor.

For awhile, he stubbornly refused to admit the thoughts that hammered at his mind He chose instead to think about Grace

She'd had a terrible shock. It had brought on a highly emotional confession and a plea for forgiveness. She was, of course, completely sincere.

But would it take? Would the vaccination of terror kill the restless virus within her? Had it destroyed her great need for men?"

He could only watch and wait and hope, knowing how deep these needs were planted Watch and wait and hope.

Then he could stave off the other thoughts no longer. The old ghosts.

He actually had forgotten that terrible night in the woods back in Ludlow. He'd stubbornly resisted the memory for so long that it hadn't plagued him for years.

But now it was hack, as clear and sharp as the night it happened.

His own part in the madness. He hadn't touched the girl himself, thank Gog. But he'd been imbued with the same insanity that had struck his four companions. He clenched his fist and forced himself to relive the memory of his terrible two minutes.

He hadn't wanted to be left out. That was how the insanity affected him. Even in the face of his fear and dread of the moment, he had wanted to be a part of it. So he'd pulled a whip from a bush and cut Barbara's legs:

Come on, baby! Dance for us. Do a hootchy-kootchy Give us a dance...

He remembered the laughter.

Pacing the floor, he wondered. Was this a coincidence? Possibly. But that was hard to believe. If so. this was double-barreled coincidence. Jim Payne calling him for a get-together. He and Jim never got together. They were opposite types, and what had held them close in high school days no longer existed. They were in the new group now because of their wives and for no other reason.

He wondered what he wanted.

He would find out tomorrow.

In the meantime, there was nothing to do but wait.