Chapter 11

Three weeks passed before George Branch showed up in New York again. To Mavis it seemed as if he was deliberately prolonging his trip in the hope that she might decide to leave before he got home. She stayed put. Seeing her calmly sitting beside his wife at dinner, smiling as if at some secret joke, George entertained mixed feelings towards her. Since that hectic night he had thought of her often. Her violent love making had left its indelible mark on him and he knew that given half a chance he world take her again whether at home or elsewhere, despite his genuine love and respect for Vern.

He hade hoped that Mavis would have packed up and left. He recognized and accepted his weakness where she was concerned. During the past few weeks he had relived that night over and over in his vivid imagination, had promised himself that if Mavis that he was strong enough. Yet he knew that he was still there when he got home he'd put her out, wasn't strong enough, and that the initiative would have to come from her. His main objection to committing adultery was the nagging fear that Vern might find out rather than condemnation of the act itself.

He kissed his wife, and forced himself to meet Mavis' mocking gaze calmly.

"This has been a rough trip," he told Vern. I expected to be back ten days ago. Missed me, honey?"

"Need you ask, darling? I was beginning to think you'd run out on me...."

"I see you've still got your soul-mate."

"Mavis? Of course. Why not? I don't know what I'd do without her."

Vernice placed her hand affectionately on Mavis' arm. George fished two flat packages from his coat pocket, held them out, one to his wife, the other to the girl.

"Presents!" Vern exclaimed, starry-eyed. "And you remembered Mavis too...."

"Sure," George said, a trifle sarcastically, Mavis thought. "How could I forget her?"

His gaze locked with Mavis', and a slight flush spread into her cheeks.

"You're making the poor girl blush," Vern rebuked.

"Oh, George! It's lovely!"

The powder compacts were identical, and expensive. Mavis regarded her gift with mixed feelings, thinking that George must have felt pretty certain that she would still be there to bring her a present.

"You shouldn't have, really," she protested, smiling at him.

"It's by way of a bribe," he said. "So you'll look after baby tomorrow while I take Vern out some place. Fancy a run out to Coney Island, Vern?"

"Why yes, I'd love it. But I wouldn't want to spoil any plans Mavis might have. We could take Gordon with us so that Mavis can come too...."

"That's all right, Vern. I don't mind."

"Are you sure? It wouldn't be an imposition? You've been so good lately."

"Of course not. I wasn't going out anyway."

"All right," George said. "Coney Island it is then. Do you realize how long it is since we had a day out together, Vern?"

"Too long. Sam's off duty tomorrow, Mavis. I'll ask him over-he'll be company for you."

Mavis nodded. She longed to draw Sam Davis out, but up to now he had been afraid of perhaps making a fool of herself. Sam was a man, but he was also a cop, and if he once conceived a notion that she wasn't all he supposed her to be he might make trouble. And yet, she thought, it might be the very excuse she needed to break away. She had become more sure of herself over the past few weeks, smarter in her outlook. She was almost nineteen. Now that her aunt was dead she had no one. She hadn't done anything criminal. Suppose the police did run rer out of town. What was to prevent her coming back? They might take her or send her back to Auburn Township but they couldn't make her stay there. She wished now that she had accepted Cash Moran's offer instead of letting Sam Davis talk her into accepting his ultimatum. Perhaps it wasn't too late.

She wished she knew more about the law, what age she had to be to be able to please herself. She had meant to find out but somehow had never gotten around to it. And, she thought, supposing she threw herself at Sam Davis in an attempt to embarrass him and cause a breach, and he came right back for more? Then she'd be hard put to get rid of him, and he'd ride her harder than ever. No, she had to shake herself free of the whole situation for good, free from Vernice Branch and her cop brother, and George, too.

Seeing the confusion in George's eyes she suddenly knew the answer, and it was so simple she wondered why she hadn't thought of it before. She had been allowing sentiment to sway her. All she had to do was to provoke Vernice, to work on George and let his wife catch them at it. Then she'd be out quickly enough, Vern would see to that, and she could put the blame on George to keep Sam Davis from coming down on her. She did not doubt that Sam, being a man and therefore, like all men, a fool where women were concerned, would believe her.

"I'd like to see Sam again," she lied. "It's been almost a week now."

"I do believe you're sweet on him," Vern teased. T wish he would settle down, get married. Are you quite sure you won't mind looking after baby?"

"Quite sure. I'll be all right with Sam." George shot her a keen glance. Sam Davis might be a tough cop but an afternoon with Mavis could prove an experience far beyond anything he had encountered in the normal line of duty. He grinned. He wondered what Vernice would say if she knew that their baby-sitter was a night club stripper.

Vernice glanced at the clock, got up, switched on the television. George fetched cold beer from the ice-box. Mavis, watching them sitting close together on the sofa, felt like an intruder. Vern wouldn't be so loving, she thought, if she knew what was going on in her husband's mind. Mavis wondered why she should feel so bitter towards Vernice Branch who had shown her nothing but kindness and generosity.

"I'll make a few sandwiches," she said to hide her confusion.

Sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window was warm on Vernice Branch's back as she stood naked in front of the wardrobe mirror and critically appraised her figure. She smoothed her broad hips, turned sideways to view her breasts in profile.

"Don't you think I'm putting on weight, George?" she asked, frowning.

"Worried about it?"

"Beast! I hoped you'd reassure me."

George, studying the smooth lines of her hips and the fullness of her buttocks, reached for a cigarette.

Last night her nudity had excited him, driven him almost frantic. Now, in the light of a new day, it didn't mean a thing. He looked her over dispassionately, deriving a certain satisfaction from the realization that she was still a lovely woman.

"On you it looks good," he told her. His thoughts flitted back to a night three weeks ago, and suddenly it wasn't his wife standing there but Mavis, and there was a tightening in his bowels.

"Vern," he called softly. "Here, Vern---!"

She turned. Her eyebrows lifted. She stared, fascinated. "Darling," she said, "Not again. You're impossible."

"Better than being impotent--"

She laughed. "Get up," she insisted, "We're going out-remember?"

He grabbed for her but she avoided him, snatching her robe off the bed and ducked out of the room, almost knocking Mavis down. "Men!" she exclaimed, struggling into the robe, "Sorry, dear!"

Mavis opened her mouth to express complete agreement then thought better of it.

"It's a lovely day for your run out," she said instead.

"Yes. I wish you were coming."

"There'll be other times. I put on the pot for coffee. Is the baby awake?"

"Since six o'clock. If you'll just prepare his feed while I take my shower."

Sam Davis showed up around ten-thirty. George was getting the car out front. The phone rang as Sam peeled off his coat.

"I'll get it," he volunteered. He lifted the receiver, listened, said "yes" a couple of times, then "hold on." He covered the mouthpiece.

"Vern," he called. "It's for George, his office."

I'll take it." She took the receiver.

"Hello. Yes, George is home. Who? Mr. Avis? Yes. What's that? Oh, no. Not today. Can't it wait? But ... We'd planned to go. Well, if it's that important. Yes, I'll tell him. Goodbye!"

She hung up. "Damn Jasper J. Avis," she said vehemently.

"Whose Avis?"

"Some important buyer apparently. Seems he's passing through and only has a couple of hours to spare before flying on to San Francisco. George's office wants him to contact Avis at Idlewood."

"Who was that on the phone? Ben Jarvis?"

"No, just some assistant."

"Too bad. Should mean a bonus though."

"Damn the bonus! I haven't seen George for three weeks."

George came in. "Hiyuh, Sam," he greeted. "I thought I heard the phone."

"You did. Your office called. They want you to meet some buyer named Avis at Idlewood. He's arriving from Miami about three-thirty."

"The hell he is. You said we were going out, Vern?"

She nodded. "They said it was very important. I said you'd go. Will you?"

"I suppose I'll have to."

"What about Coney Island?"

Travis shrugged. "I'm sorry, honey. But what can I do?"

"Why don't you go to Coney Island with Sam?" Mavis suggested.

"I don't mind staying here alone."

There was always Roley Martin to fall back on.

"Thanks, dear, but it wouldn't be the same without George."

"Crap!" George protested, "You need a break. No sense in all of us being miserable. We're lucky to have somebody to look after the kid. Enjoy yourself while you've got the chance."

"But it wouldn't be fair to drag Sam away," Vernice said, "I'm sure he and Mavis...."

"It's all right, really," Mavis put in quickly, smiling disarmingly at Sam Davis, "It isn't as if we really have anything to talk about."

She broke off, but Sam got the message. So did George. He'd never seen a neater brush-off. Sam Davis laughed to cover his embarrassment. George looked at his wristwatch.

"I'll have to go," he said, "Don't expect I'll be late. Go ahead and enjoy yourselves. I'll make it up to Mavis."

He kissed his wife, grabbed his hat and briefcase, and went out. They heard him drive away.

"Well," Sam remarked, looking awkward. "I suppose we'd best get going, Vern. Sure you don't mind being left, Mavis?"

"I'd prefer it really. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

"That's okay. I understand."

In a way he felt relieved. Mavis bothered him in more ways than one, but he was afraid to make a pass at her in case she thought he was taking advantage of her. He avoided her gaze, straightened his neck-tie. Vernice came through shrugging into her coat.

"You won't forget Gordon's two o'clock feed?" she reminded. Mavis reassured her, and Vernice went out. Sam Davis looked at Mavis, started to say something, changed his mind and followed his sister out to his parked Ford. Mavis closed the door and breathed a sigh of relief.

The morning passed slowly for her. The baby was troublesome but quieted after its mid-day feed. Around three o'clock Mavis, engrossed in a television program, was surprised to hear a key inserted in the street door lock. Not Vern back already, she thought, frowning.

"That you, Vern?" she called, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. It was George Branch who answered. He entered, tossed his briefcase onto a chair, crossed to the wall cabinet and poured himself a drink.

"Want one?" he asked. He sounded strange, tensed. "No thanks. I've just finished a coke. You're back early."

"Yes. The flight schedule was rearranged. Avis couldn't wait. I've had a lousy ride for nothing. How long's Vern been gone?"

"Since ten-thirty. I'm glad you're back. It's lonesome just sitting around."

"You've got the television. Gordon okay?"

"He's settled now."

She got off the sofa, moved towards him, stood behind his neat figure and slid her arms around his waist. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, like a sleek cat craving favors. George could almost hear her purr ... He walked away, tossed off his drink, set his glass down. Mavis followed him. When he flopped into a deep armchair she sat on the chair arm, half onto his lap, molding her body against him, letting her long hair brush against his face. The fragrance of it was disturbing.

"Now look here, Mavis," he said firmly. "You've got to cut this out. I told you, and I meant what I said."

He looked really annoyed, but his voice lacked conviction. He tried to get up but was prevented from doing so by Mavis' clinging posture. In a mirror across the room he could see her reflection, the tightness of her ice-blue slacks hugging her figure, the long curve of her hip. He swore.

"I need another drink," he said.

"And I need a man."

She placed a soft arm round his neck, ran long, slim fingers though his hair, loosened his neck-tie.

"Relax," she told him. "We're alone."

Her mouth, smiling, seductive, was only inches from his. Her lips were parted, her pink tongue poised, protruding slightly. With a great effort of will George threw her off and vacated the chair.

"Damn you!" he blurted. "Keep away from me. You're nothing but trouble. You must see this is crazy, Mavis. It can only lead to a mess."

She crossed the room, and he watched the slinky movement of her hips, the play of her buttocks. Words formed on his lips but remained unspoken. Mavis poured a drink, added ice, approached him with a mocking glint in her eyes.

"Here," she said. "You do need it. You said you'd make it up to me, remember? For having to stay home."

"Hell! I didn't mean this!"

"No? You know what I think? I think you arranged this whole thing. I don't believe there was any buyer. You just wanted Vern out of the way, and Sam, so you cooked up this yarn with some woman at the office."

"For crying out loud! Listen! You've got it all wrong. I didn't plan this . .

"You knew I'd be here, alone. Darling, why fight it? We're good for each other. You know that. Okay, so let's have fun."

Her gaze met his, searched deep. George gulped the drink, turned away, lit a cigarette. His hand was far from steady. When he turned back she'd unzip-pered her slacks and they were sliding down around her ankles. She stepped free of them and came towards him with arms outstretched, a vision of loveliness and physical perfection emphasized by shell pink briefs and high-heeled black suede shoes. Startled, George retreated until the wall at his back prevented his escape. He stared like a bird hypnotized by a . snake, passing his tongue continually round his lips.

Then Mavis was pressed against him and the smell of her perfumed body was ousting reason, undermining his last remaining shreds of will power. He had known she'd be there, alone. Yet even while trying to convince himself that he had the moral strength to resist her, that he wanted to remain true to Vern, his foot had been tramping the gas pedal, and he had forgotten his wasted trip to the airport in his eagerness to get back home.

Since that first seduction, his seduction by Mavis, he hadn't been able to get her out of his mind. The memory of her physical contact burned like a fever in his blood. Driving back from Idlewood he had kidded himself that it was Vern he was hurrying back to be with, that perhaps he'd drive out to Coney Island and maybe run into her with Sam. But he knew the moment he entered the house that he'd been lying to himself, trying to still his conscience.

Suddenly he was angry, furious at his weakness, at the injustice of it all, and with Mavis as the unrepentant cause. But the instant her mouth clamped over his and her body touched him his anger yielded, melted, was oblitered in a storm of desire.

Vernice Branch finished the hot-dog, wiped mustard from her fingers, and smiled at her brother.

"It's no use, Sam," she said, "I can't enjoy myself for thinking about George. And I don't feel right about leaving Mavis by herself. She's been so sweet lately. Suppose we go back. You and she can take in a movie or something? She'd like that. I think she's interested in you, Sam. No, really. It wasn't right to drop her, for me."

"She didn't seem very keen to have me stay."

"She's shy, that's all."

"Think so? I think she's a lot deeper than she makes out. There's something about her, Vern, that I can't quite figure. Anyway, I don't want to get involved."

"Sam, She's a perfect lamb."

"Okay, so maybe she is a good kid, maybe not. I'd want to know a lot more about her before I get involved."

"Can't you ever forget you're a cop?"

"I will if you'll quit trying to saddle me with more responsibilities than I can handle. You sure you want to go home. It's barely three-fifteen...."

"I'd feel better. You might stop by Romano's on the way and I'll pick up some fresh fruit."

"Okay."

Davis shrugged. He slid behind the Ford's wheel, started the motor, held the opposite door open for Vernice. It was in his mind that perhaps an evening at the movies with Mavis might prove more of an embarrassment than a pleasure the way he kept thinking about her. The drive home was uneventful. When they entered the house everything was quiet, unnaturally so. The television was switched on, but no one was in the room. Vernice called:-

"Mavis!"

No answer. Alarmed, Vernice went through into her bedroom. Her baby was sleeping peacefully.

"Perhaps she's lying down," Sam suggested, "I'll take a look."

"No, I'll go."

Vernice started towards the door of Mavis' room, then paused and frowned. She stooped, picked up a pair of pale blue slacks. Her brother indicated George's briefcase lying on a chair.

"George is home," he said, 'They can't have gone out. His hat and coat's here. What gives?"

"It isn't like Mavis to go off and leave the baby," Vernice said, "Something must have happened."

She took another step towards the girl's room, then paused again when a laugh sounded from beyond the door. A cold chill passed through Vernice. She shook her head, refusing to accept the too obvious implications.

"That's George's laugh," her brother said grimly. "He's in there with her...."

"No!" Vern whispered, "NO! He couldn't!"

George laughed again. They heard a muffled cry, Mavis' voice. George answered. Vernice heard his impassioned words, thick with desire, each utterance branding its coarse vulgarity deep into her stunned, bewildered brain. Then Mavis giggled, and they heard her reply. The color drained from Vernice's cheeks. She uttered a gasping cry and stumbled forward, paused yet again with her hand gripping the door knob. Her knuckles gleamed white with tension. She looked at Sam Davis, mute appeal in her eyes, nerving herself to open the door.

With one swift movement she turned the knob and flung the door wide, then stood frozen on the threshold, clutching at the door frame. In that instant her whole world was shattered and came crashing in crumbling ruins about her. Her love for George Branch withered, shrivelled, died, and was swept away on a surging torrent of self pity, blinding fury, and murderous hate.

She felt herself falling, her knees giving way, and saw as through a dense fog her husband and the girl she had trusted lying together on the bed, clasped in a passionate embrace, their bodies moving together ... Sam Davis was just in time to catch her and ease her weight to the floor as she slumped in a dead faint.

Things happened fast then. George Branch swore, rolled over, came off the bed fast-and ran his flushed face smack into Davis's hard fist as the big cop swung a savage right-hand punch. Blood spurted. George shrieked, sprawled across the bed, screamed again when boot leather aimed at his groin drove high into his hairy stomach. Sam's quick grab for Mavis missed. He managed to lay his hard hand across her bare bottom as she darted past him like a startled fawn. She hurdled Vernice's prone form and ducked into the other bedroom, slammed the door. Sam heard the scrape of a chair as she wedged it under the door handle.

Vernice was coming round, moaning. Sam helped her up. George writhed on Mavis's bed with his hands covering his broken nose. Sam led his sister to the bathroom, bathed her face, made her drink a glass of water. She moved as if in a trance, staring at him hollow-eyed. She seemed years older in the space of those few minutes. But no tears came. Later perhaps. Right now she was too shocked to cry, too bitter even to feel grief. Her immediate reaction following the shock was anger.

Footsteps pattered. They glimpsed Mavis running back into her own room. Her door closed. Sam took a step that way but Vernice restrained him.

"Don't leave me," she begged, "Not yet. I'll be all right in a minute."

He brought her a stiff drink, made her drain it. The fiery liquor made her cough, but some of the pallor left her face. Sounds of hasty movement came from Mavis's room. Presently her door opened a crack. She emerged, suitcase in hand, and ran past them to the street door. Sam would have gone after her, but Vernice again prevented him.

"Let her go," she commanded harshly. "Let the ratten little tramp go. Oh, Sam! I trusted her, liked her, gave her a home, everything. Why this? WHY? How could she? And George! I don't understand."

"Because I had to get soft," her brother said angrily. "That's why. Because I figured she was just a nice kid who needed protection. I brought the bitch here. And because we've both of us got more sentiment than sense, I suppose. As for George....

"Don't blame him too much."

"Blame him! I'll kill the bastard!"

"No! Oh, Sam, please. It was her. I should have known, should have seen through her. The dirty little whore, that's all she is. I should have guessed, when Esther Martin complained. But George. How could he?"

"I can see how, but why takes some figuring. I always thought George was straight. He knew what he was doing, so you can't put all the blame on her. The damn fool! One thing's for sure, I'll put a halter on that filly."

"Why bother, Sam? Let her go her own way. Perhaps if you'd left her alone in the first place none of this would have happened. It couldn't have happened. It was a mistake bringing her here. I see that now. She's cheap, Sam. All false. Let her go her own way. She'll achieve her own damnation. What's it to you, Sam?"

"Nothing, now. She sure had me fooled. I should have left her to rot in Al Grant's flop-house. It's a bit late now to say I'm sorry, Vern."

"Forget it, Sam. She fooled me too. I still can't believe it, how anyone so young, so lovely. She seemed so sweet, so absolutely charming. Sam, I'll never be able to trust anyone again as long as I live."

He nodded. "What about him?" he asked. Vernice shrugged. She shook her head dumbly. It was some time before she could speak.

"I don't know," she said then. "I'll have to decide-later. Right now I can t think. I m so ashamed. I just want to crawl away somewhere and ... Oh, Sam...."

The tears that previously wouldn't flow came suddenly, as if to drown the pain in her shadowed eyes.