Chapter 3
Otto Kramer lifted the pump out of the small tank where the strawberry topping was kept. It was nearly empty; there had been a lot of call for strawberry that day.
Otto wore a white cap, white shirt, and his dark trousers were covered by a white apron that strapped around his considerable girth. He was a big man with a huge pot belly, although no taller than average.
Otto owned and operated the only ice-cream store in Thornton, California. The drugstore across the street and down half a block had the other fountain in town, but they did not sell ice cream to take out.
Thirty years ago, Otto and his new bride, Hilde, had come to the United States from Germany and settled in Milwaukee because they knew a lot of people from the old country who had gone there to live. Otto found work as a waiter in a German restaurant and served sauerbraten for ten years, saving his tips and spending nothing on luxuries. He and Hilde dressed shabbily, ate leftovers he took home from the restaurant, and went to the park on Sundays to listen to the German band that played there. As Hitler gained power, Otto threw three pro-Nazi Bundists off his front porch one night in 1936 when they came to talk to him about becoming a member.
The owner of the restaurant heard of Otto's actions and quietly gave him a five-dollar-a-week raise. Within a week Otto became a hero in the German colony and his tips increased greatly. He lost a few of the pro-Nazis, but they didn't count.
By 1940 Otto had saved 14,000 pre-war dollars and went to California. He learned that the Tutti-Fruiti ice-cream store was for sale in Thornton, fifty miles from San Francisco. He went there, purchased it for more than he had hoped, and he and Hilde moved to Thornton, living behind the ice cream store.
At that time in 1940, Otto was thirty-eight and Hilde thirty-seven. They were childless then and they remained without children, even though they both had wanted them because it was expected of a good German marriage.
Otto did not like the name Tutti-Fruiti and, because he was a simple man, changed it to Otto's Ice Cream and Parlor Fountain. That was Otto's name for it, at least. The town's children, teenagers, young adults, and everyone else called it Otto's.
During World War II Otto bought more war bonds than any other small businessman in Thornton and, by the end of the war, was well-to-do because of his savings. Of course, he and Hilde still lived in back of the store and wore old clothes and never spent money foolishly.
When she was a bride, Hilde had been a dumpy, taffy-haired girl, not very intelligent. She had grown up in the same village with Otto, and when Otto decided to marry she had been the only girl available who was built strongly enough to suit him. But even though she was slow-witted and even stupid at times, she never disputed his judgment and was a good, willing hausfrau.
On their marriage night Hilde showed no sign of emotion, let alone passion, and had lain dumpily on her back and submitted to her new husband. She had never since shown any more interest in their marriage bed but also never repulsed him. Otto had hoped that she would learn to make love, but she never had. However, as long as she submitted to his desires whenever he felt them, this satisfied him. After all, he always reminded himself, in many ways he was better off than men with passionate wives who would have none of them when they weren't in the mood. Hilde was never in the mood but she was never against it either; or at least never said she was.
Otto filled the empty tank with strawberry topping. He did not love his business but he liked it. He did not love Thornton, California, but he liked it, too. He would rather have gone on living in Milwaukee where there were other German immigrants, but the winters had been hard and cold and the summers too hot and humid. California offered an easier climate.
The people in Thornton had never come to love Otto or Hilde, but they had accepted them when they arrived and they grew to like fat, slow-moving Otto. He put up with the kids who clowned in his store and never lost his temper with them, even when they spilled ice cream on the floor. They treated Hilde with respect and tried to like her, but she had been flat and unable to react to anyone she met, except the smaller children. Sometimes, when Otto had to go to the bank, she kept the store. When she did, she gave the kids ice cream without collecting for it. None of them understood her but they all liked to see her there when Otto went to the bank.
The store was empty and Otto puttered with his supply containers. He had never had any woman other than Hilde. When he was a young man in Germany he'd had many chances with the girls but always turned them down; he was afraid he would make one of them pregnant, have to marry her, and upset his plans for coming to the United States.
When he was ready to marry, and nearly ready to leave Germany, none of the eager young women were left and he took Hilde as his bride.
Otto thought about Evette Warwick, a nineteen-year-old female animal. She wiggled her behind when she walked and her huge breasts bounced up and down. She wore the kind of undergarments that made her big breasts bounce that way.
He wished that he did not think of Evette Warwick. He was an old man, thick in the middle and well-to-do. He had a good reputation in the community and was proud of it. One of the most important things in his life was the respect he held among the native-born Americans in Thornton, even the native Californians. The mayor at the Fourth of July picnic once had named him, Otto Kramer, as Independence Day American of the year; a pioneer from the old country who had lived the American Dream. Otto Kramer had been an American success story. Nothing else was more important in his life; his boyhood dreams in Germany had never approached the greatness he had been able to attain in his lifetime.
But Otto could not push the girl from his thoughts.
Every move she made from the time she arose in the morning until she fell asleep at night was to attract men. Every man in Thornton from thirteen to-what age did a man cease to be interested-found excitement in that girl. She brimmed over with physical lust. She cried out to the men of the world, Come take me!
He wished that she would not come into the store again. He would not look at her on the street when he went to the bank. And that would make things easier. If he didn't see her again, watch her young full body twist as it moved about, he would not think evil things.
Perhaps the next time she came into the store he would make her angry and she would not come back again.
The screen door to his shop opened and the little bell that was suspended on it tinkled. Otto turned around to greet the customer and faced-Evette Warwick! She was by herself and she carried one book loosely in her left hand. She was never loaded down with books as most of the students were from the junior college. She was not tall and looked almost short because of her large breasts and wide hips. Her hair was a deep golden color, very long. Her face was alive with a deep pinkness, accentuated by dark-brown eyes that, too, were large.
Evette wore a shaggy sweater that was a tight fit, making her large breasts more prominent than if she had worn a looser garment. Her skirt was straight and tighter-fitting yet than the sweater. Her legs below the skirt line were slim and tapered down to trim ankles above her flat shoes. She wore clothes that the younger girls, the high-school kids, usually wore. She was too old to dress that way, Otto felt.
"Hi, Otto," she said.
"Good afternoon."
She moved across the shop slowly towards him. He looked at her face and did not let his eyes see her body. He had seen her walk many times before.
Evette put her right hand on her hip and looked up at the list of thirty-six flavors on the wall.
"Let me see," she said carefully. "I think I'll have a Rocky Road ... if it has nuts in it."
"Marshmallow and nuts in our Rocky Road," Otto said.
"Okay. Rocky Road. Two scoops."
Otto nodded. "Two scoops." He picked up a cone, opened the big canister top over the Rocky Road and began to dig into the solid, frozen ice cream.
"Kind of quiet today, isn't it, Otto?" she said.
"It's early. The kids will be in later."
Otto held out the cone to Evette.
"That's ten cents," he said.
"I'm a little short today. I haven't got it."
"Pay me next time."
Evette laughed and licked at the ice cream.
"You're a nice old guy, Otto. I really haven't got it today. I ran out of the house without my purse this morning."
Otto shrugged and smiled a little. He hadn't meant to be nice to the girl today but he was never able to find it within himself not to be nice to people. Perhaps that was why he had not become a Bundist in the thirties.
Evette placed her book on the counter and raised her left hand to her hair. "How do you like it?" She fluffed the hair.
"Why do you dye your hair, girl?"
"I like it this way. How did you know I dyed it?"
"Yeah," Evette said. "That's right. Is Hilde pretty hot, Otto?"
"Young women shouldn't discuss things like that. They shouldn't discuss that with-"
"I do," she said and licked at the ice cream again.
"Ja, I know. I know you do."
"What's the matter, Otto?" she said, moving closer to the counter. "Don't you like me?"
"Hike all you kids."
"I'm no kid, Otto." Her tongue shot forth again, touching the coldness of the ice cream. "You're a kid," he said flatly. "You want to bet?"
"I don't gamble. But you're still a kid." She put her ice-cream cone down on the counter on its flat bottom and placed her hands on her hips. "Kids don't look like me. I'm nineteen and that's a year past the age of consent. More than a year."
"Kids in this country grow up too fast," Otto muttered.
"Well, what about Germany, I read all about that Hitler youth movement and free love. I read about it in Contemporary European History."
"Hitler was a monster," Otto cried.
"He had a lot of good ideas."
"He was a maniac."
"What? You mean like the Jews? I didn't like that either, but he had plenty of good ideas, if you ask me."
"You don't know," Otto said. "You don't understand."
"You Jewish, Otto?"
"No, I am not Jewish. I am-I was a Lutheran when I went to church."
"I thought you had it in for him because of the Jews."
"I have it in for him because of the Jews and because of a lot of other things. I hate him because I am a German."
"That's great," Evette cried. "It sounds like an old movie on TV. It sounds like an old man in the Underground."
Otto's eyes dropped to the floor and he did not speak.
"I guess that makes you all right, Otto. You must be three-hundred-per-cent American or something."
Evette turned away and started for the door, leaving her book and ice-cream cone on the counter.
Otto looked up. "Kid. You forgot your book."
Evette stopped and looked back at him evilly. She had seen a large milk container empty and open near the door.
She leaped to it, cupped her breasts in her hands, bent over the container and cried, "Get the churn, Otto. We'll make some real ice cream."
"You!" he thundered.
Evette rushed out the door and let the screen door slam shut behind her.
Otto Kramer clenched his fists and tears began to form around his eyes. He was an old man and he was susceptible to this and the girl had known it.
"Dirty little whore," he spat. "Dirty little...."
He turned to the back counter and raised one hand to his forehead. He rubbed his eyes and tried to stop the trembling in his body.
"Someone will strangle her," he gasped. "Someone will. Girls like that bring only trouble; here or in the old country."
Otto Kramer understood a little. He couldn't understand everything because he spent all of his time, except for trips to the bank and rare outings, in the store or in the living quarters behind the store. But he knew there was trouble surrounding Evette Warwick.
And knowing these things, he knew part of the truth.
Otto Kramer was not a busybody. He had too much respect for his social position to risk it for idle gossip or snooping. But with Evette, one didn't have to seek out the truth. It presented itself, naked and clear.
It had been around three months before. Otto had hired an itinerant laborer named Claude to help out with some odd jobs that had been stacking up. Otto let Claude live in the shed behind the living quarters. It was, after all, only a week's work.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon. Otto had decided to close down early and take his wife to the movies. He wanted to give Claude the night off as well. He locked the front door of the store, then walked out the back to Claude's shed.
He heard the giggling laughter immediately. Quietly, he approached the shed. Peering in through the dusty window, Otto sucked in his breath with astonishment.
Evette Warwick was in there, naked and laughing.
On the army cot that Otto had provided, Claude lounged, naked as well, his enormous erection jutting from between his hairy legs.
Evette was prancing around in front of Claude, contorting her body in weirdly sexual ways, thrusting out her pelvis for Claude's admiring gaze, cupping her full breasts with her hands and squeezing the pink nipples hard, all the while moving, teasing, arousing Claude-and Otto-to the heights of sexual passion.
Then Evette approached the cot, a smile of obscene delight on her face. Claude opened his legs for her, whispered something that made her laugh, then roughly pushed her to her knees.
Evette grasped his thick shaft with experienced hands. Otto was shocked by the lack of coyness that Evette exhibited. She knew exactly what she was doing!
Then she bobbed forward, her mouth encircling Claude's hard flesh. Otto was breathing hard, certain that the two lovers could hear him, but he couldn't make himself move away from his vantage point at the window.
She had her hand between her legs, and as Otto watched, she began masturbating, slowly at first, then faster and faster as she brought Claude to orgasm.
Could this be happening? If word of this leaked out, Otto was finished, and he knew it. To allow a stranger in town, a no-account like Claude, to enjoy himself with a town girl, one barely of age-that would be too much for the good people of Thornton to swallow.
Claude's legs were kicking wildly, and he was making a lot of noise. Evette worked harder now, her face low in Claude's lap. Her own arousal was evident to Otto, and he wondered how such a young woman could be so wanton.
And then Claude's orgasm stiffened his back and he held Evette's head firmly in place as he grimaced in pleasure, and Evette's girlish laughter once again filled the shed. Otto hurried back to the store, sure of one thing: Someone was going to kill Evette Warwick.