Chapter 1
The telephone rang jarringly. Nick Sturgis turned from his tape recorder, pushed the Off button and walked across the room to the black instrument he hadn't expected to make a sound.
He had come up to Craig, Idaho, population 234, to get away from people, to rest and practice some new routines. He knew hardly anybody in the area outside of the owner of the village general store, Ned Bowman.
His request to have the phone disconnected hadn't been complied with-as yet. Things in Craig moved with the speed of molasses in January.
The cabin he had rented sat in a heavily wooded spot near Craig Lake, just a short walk from the village center. An ideal location for his purpose. Right below it lay a fine stretch of beach where he had spent many pleasant hours, swimming and soaking up the sun.
He couldn't "woodshed" on the piano and run through vocals all day long. He had to have some relaxation.
He picked up the receiver.
"Yes?" he said, impatiently.
"Ohhh!" came a woman's voice, high pitched, almost hysterical. "Is this Nick Sturgis?"
He grunted in the affirmative.
"Oh-Please, Nick. I'm scared! This is Lucy Marker, one of your neighbors. Somebody's prowling around outside the cabin. I'm all alone, and-"
He breathed a curse. He remembered meeting Lucy on the beach two days earlier. A pretty, slender brunette, bikini-clad. She had a husband who came up on weekends. This was Wednesday.
"Call the village marshal!" Nick snapped.
"Ohh-I did. No answer. Please, Nick! Won't you come over?"
The receiver turned slick in his hand. He didn't want to get involved-but he realized suddenly he was the only male in the immediate area. A cabin beyond the Markers' was occupied by two fairly young gals. He had seen them in swimming, but didn't know their names. Lucy didn't seem to be faking her fright-it was very real over the wire. Even her breathing was uneven.
"Sure," he said. "Be right there."
"Ohhh-thank you, Nick. Please hurry!"
He shook his head and dropped the receiver. He ran to the front door of his cabin and bolted out into the cool darkness. Dames! Probably some dog had tipped over a garbage can.
He nearly ran into a tree before his eyes adjusted to the starlight. The trail was well marked. A moment later he saw the lights of the rather large Marker spread, and he ran faster. The fresh piney air felt good in his nostrils.
On his right, through a screen of brush, he made out the parking area, with the Marker Olds parked. Her husband had a smaller rig he drove around in.
Straight ahead he saw a lighted back porch, and made toward it. He stomped across the wooden approach and knocked on the door. He heard the light tap-tap of heels inside, and then her voice.
"Is that you, Nick?"
"Yes!"
Her delicate face appeared as the door swung inward. She was small boned, with a tip-tilted nose and a wide, generous mouth. Her dark eyes were big with fright. At the same time her relief at seeing him put a smile on her full, sensual lips.
"Ohhhh-I'm so glad to see you!" she cried softly. Her gaze went past him, out into the night. She opened the door all the way. She wore shorts and halter of plain white, her even tan offering a good contrast. He had admired her in a bikini and now he gandered at her again.
She was long-legged, tiny of waist. A real A-plus broad. Petite. Her small breasts, molded by the halter, had a pointed allure. Each one would make a firm handful.
She moved lithely around him, closed and locked the door. The luxurious interior of the living room didn't surprise him. Jud Marker, her hubby, was in real estate at Lawton, the nearest city. This was their summer home.
"Have a chair, Nick." She laughed nervously. "I was just sitting here watching TV and I heard all this noise outside ... brush rattling!"
"Didn't see anybody on the way over," he said, calmly. He walked to a rustic sofa and sat down. She perched on the edge, facing him. She looked a little pale. He still favored the dog and garbage-can routine. Or maybe she hadn't heard a damn thing and wanted a little male company.
The way she sat gave him a clear shot along her shapely thighs, right up to her shorts and the provocative contour of her femininity.
He pulled out a cigarette, offered her one and she took it. He lit them both with a match. Her fingers shook, but he couldn't be sure about the cause.
"I don't want you to think I'm just another nervous, flighty female," she said with a shaky laugh. "But there's really reason to be frightened around here this summer."
He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Is there?"
"But of course! What with that awful Ridge-runner or whatever they call him!" She paused and hunched her shoulders in a little shiver. Then, when Nick continued to look at her questioningly, she went on with a rush, "You mean you haven't heard about him?"
"I'm afraid I haven't. Just what does this mysterious character do?"
"I don't know. I mean, there all sorts of stories. He has broken into a lot of homes and stolen things. Food, mostly. And some of the women claim he has followed them when they were out walking alone in the woods. Things like that."
"But he's never actually hurt anybody?" Nick asked.
"Who knows? He's been suspected of it, I can tell you that! I mean, some women wouldn't want to tell about it if he caught them alone in the woods somewhere and-well, and raped them. You know how it is."
Nick laughed, then shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't, but I'll take your word for it."
She gave him a quick, sidelong glance. "Well, that's why I don't want to be alone here. Usually either Nona or Ivy comes over to spend the evening when I'm by myself here. But I think they had dates in the village tonight."
"Nona or Ivy?" Nick repeated. "I'm afraid I haven't met them."
She smiled. "Well, I'll have to introduce you! Nona's the younger-she's told me how much she-likes your music! In fact, we're all glad to have you close by here. She and Ivy are cousins. They work in Lawton and always spend their summers up here-when they can get away...."
Lucy rambled on. Her tension appeared to ease. Nick recalled seeing the two girls Lucy mentioned. Nona would be the plump blonde, Ivy the tall, statuesque brunette. He had spotted them in the general store at the village, buying supplies.
Both had appeared rather quiet, even introverted, although the blonde had given him a few speculative glances. He was used to feminine admiration. Working in a small combo on the road for over ten years, he had grown accustomed to flirty stares and casual propositions.
He had turned down the idea of continuing with a group. He was going to strike out on his own, as a solo. He had come up to Craig to learn a long list of vocals and to change his piano stylings into a piano-bar type of presentation. More runs and fillers, a more commercial approach. Cocktail piano ...
He was using the tape recorder to catch minor flaws in the vocals. On the whole he was pleased with his progress. His booker in Seattle had a spot for him in the middle of September at Bellingham. A week more and he would be on his way.
When he came up to Craig in late August he had hoped most of the tourists would be gone, but good weather had held and a few of them lingered.
"I haven't heard of any prowlers," he said encouragingly.
She smiled. "Well, I haven't, either. I do get lonesome, though...." She stood up quickly. "What about a drink, Nick? I'm sure I could use one!"
He nodded. A vision of Jud Marker crossed his mind. Fat, balding and about fifty-five. A young, good-looking wife around twenty-five. A familiar picture. The joints he had worked drew them by the dozens. The younger broads married an older joker for money and security, and obviously Jud wasn't taking care of his bedroom duties. This filly had sex-starvation written all over her.
A week earlier, on a trip to Lawton, he had laid a willing waitress. Since then he had lived like a hermit. Time he was getting his ashes hauled.
Lucy returned with a couple of highballs and this time she sat closer. The TV screen still was animated, but the volume had been turned down.
"Oh, I feel so much better with you here!" she murmured, sipping her drink. "You know, of course, that you have all the girls around here in a tizzy!"
"Really?"
She giggled. "Big, handsome blonde men who play such wonderful piano don't show up here every day."
"I'm flattered, Lucy. I'll be leaving next week."
"Oh, heck! I'll have to go back to town soon, too ... I wanted to get to know you better." Her eyes caressed him. "Nona and Ivy are real curious about you, too."
He smiled more to himself than at Lucy. Girls at vacation spots were always easier than any others
-married or single. He let his gaze wander along her sleek figure.
"Let's see," he said. "Nona's the young blonde. I'd think she'd have a boyfriend around."
"She does, but he's not very romantic, I'm afraid. Quite a hot-rod fiend."
Nick grinned. "How do you pass the time, Lucy?"
"Oh, I take a lot of pictures. Develop my own. Jud fixed up a darkroom for me, here. like to see some of my modest efforts?"
"Sure." He didn't care, one way or another, but it might be a way to get his hands on her without seeming too forward. Any little old ruse was enough for most dames ... especially the neglected married ones.
"Finish your drink and I'll take you on a tour," she said, brightly. Her rich, black hair, shoulder length, intrigued him. He caught a draft of her perfume, and his hunger sharpened. She had a beautifully rounded bottom.
"Ever done any modeling, Lucy?"
That scored. Her smile widened. "A little. Just small-town stuff. When I was eighteen I was Miss Lawton for a year."
"You have all the qualifications," he said, winking.
"Flattery will get you somewhere!" she answered, giggling. She rose, gracefully. "Come on. I'll show you some of my best shots!"
It was good liquor, he noticed. Smooth as velvet, like the hostess. The prowler, if one existed, was forgotten. If he had read all the signs right, she was itchy.
He followed her toward the rear of the large summer place-more of a house than a cabin. She led him into what had probably been a spare bedroom. Now, it was mainly taken over with photographic equipment. A chair, with spots aimed at it, was set up for mug shots. A closet had evidently been enlarged to make the darkroom.
She pointed to a section of the wall on his left, near the entrance. There were several fine scenic takes of the lake and surrounding forest, the beach and a few of the village. Some were in color, most in black-and-white.
"I have to send the color stuff to Spokane," she said. "I can't develop those here."
He nodded. His eyes were drawn to half a dozen good girlie shots, four of herself and two of Nona. Both gals wore very skimpy bikinis. Lake and beach formed the backgrounds.
"Very good," he said, impressed. "I knew you were stacked, but I didn't think Nona had such a good figure."
Lucy smiled. "A bit on the full side, but she photographs well. I call her Miss Bountiful!"
Nona had fine, long legs and a bulgy, high-riding bosom. Wide in the hips, exquisitely feminine. He experienced a quick nudge of interest.
"She is amply endowed," Nick said. "No pictures of Ivy?"
"Oh, she won't wear a bikini. I have a couple in the darkroom."
He wondered what was with a lonely housewife who took girlie photos-of herself and other dames. The poses were amateurish imitations of those seen in famous magazines aimed at the male trade. An indication of sexual frustrations?
I'm sure as hell goin' to find out, he thought.
"The dark room's small," she said, opening the door.
"I don't mind," he answered. "I didn't think you would...."