Chapter 12
Joy had just stepped from the shower and was toweling herself dry when the doorbell rang. As it rang a second time, she decided it must be the apartment manager. She had left him a note that there was something wrong with the refrigerator. It kept making a funny noise ever since she got back.
Slipping into a negligee and robe, she headed for the door. As she opened it, two men forced their way in, almost knocking her down. One of the men, the bigger of the two, an ugly man with thick lips and heavy eyebrows that jutted from his forehead, grabbed her and clapped a big hand over her mouth before she could scream.
His partner, moving quickly, went into the kitchen and then the bedroom. "She's alone," he announced to Ugly when he came out.
"Turn the radio on nice and loud," Ugly ordered. As the radio started to blare, he released his hand.
"What do you want?" Joy managed to say.
"Where's Bart McLane?"
Joy stared into the evil looking face. "I don't know," she said.
"Oh, you want to play it the hard way, Baby. Get smart. We're going to find out one way or the other. Tell us where he is and you save yourself some grief."
"I have told you. I don't know."
"Like Hell. You're his broad. You must have had a reason for sneaking back to New York on a bus from Montreal. You were in Europe with him. What's his plans?"
"If you know that, you know I came home alone. The last time I saw Bart McLane was in Paris. He left and sent me some money to come home."
Ugly's hands tightened, the fingers biting into Joy's arms. "Just like that," he sneered. "And I suppose it was your idea to come by way of Montreal."
Joy bit her hp to hold back the scream. "He told me to when he called me," she said.
"Where did he call from?"
"Italy, somewhere in Italy."
A big hand caught Joy across the cheek, moving back and forth a couple of times. "You'll have to do better than that, Baby," Ugly growled.
Joy screamed. The blaring radio drowned out the sound.
"Please, I don't know any more," she moaned. Another scream erupted in her throat as his big hand caught her breast and twisted, cruelly.
"She wants it the hard way," the smaller man leered. He tore off her robe and then ripped the negligee from her shoulders.
Joy was aware of him stepping back and looking at her. Still imprisoned by the big man, there was nothing she could do. Fright brought a tremble.
"McLane sure knows how to pick them," the smaller man laughed. "Why don't we take some of this? Man, what a broad."
"Knock it off," Ugly said. "All we're after is information."
Joy looked at him. It was ridiculous but he was protecting her. Or 'was he? She wasn't sure as the big hand twisted her breast again, bringing a renewal of pain. A nausea clawed at her stomach. Then, she fainted dead away.
A wet cloth on her face brought her back. She was on the divan. The two men hovered over her.
"Had enough? You going to tell us where McLane is?" the big guy growled down at Joy.
"I have told you all I know," Joy pleaded. She cried out as the smaller man dug his lighted cigarette into the flesh of her breast. Then, he drove his fist into her stomach.
The lights flashed out again. It was almost pleasant slipping away into the safety of darkness. She felt the water splash in her face again.
Through the fog of returning consciousness, she heard one of the men say, "She ain't no good to us dead."
Joy kept her eyes closed, pretending she was still out. It didn't work. The men were too expert at their trade. She screamed as the cigarette seared her flesh again. A flailing hand across her mouth cut the scream short. She tasted blood from her split hp. Her stomach was on fire from the earlier blow. What's the use, she thought. They're going to kill me. They want me to tell them something I don't know, and they won't believe me.
"Where did McLane say he will meet you?" Ugly persisted.
"He isn't going to meet me. He ... he said he was going to keep moving. He ... he said Spain," Joy gasped out, between cracked lips.
"Maybe the broad don't know," Ugly said, looking at his partner.
The thin man grinned. "You gonna tell Maratti we didn't find out anything. She knows." He moved toward Joy.
The bigger man's slaps and actions were nothing compared to what Joy went through in the next few minutes. The torture of hands, at her breasts, working up her thighs was indescribable. Joy longed for the comfort of fainting. The man, though went about his work pawing her enough to bring the pain, but not the oblivion of unconsciousness. She screamed and sobbed in turn. What was a matter of minutes seemed hours.
Finally, when he stepped back, breathing hard, she cried, "Kill me. Kill me. I can't tell you what I don't know."
"Yeah," the thin man grunted. He looked at his partner. "You could be right. No broad is dumb enough to take this without spilling. Let's get the Hell out of here."
Ugly caught Joy's chin in a big hand. "Don't get any ideas of going to the cops," he growled at her. "I ain't never knocked off a broad, but ... " He released her chin.
Joy trembled, but she didn't answer. She sucked in her breath as she saw the two men head for the door and then leave. With an effort, she lifted half way. Perspiration beaded her forehead. She ached all over. Her chest was on fire. The radio was still blaring. She had to turn it off.
That was the last thing she remembered. As she tried to stand up, a driving pain shot through her ribs.
The oblivion of darkness came, a welcoming shroud. Leering faces came out of the black chasm she dropped into. Pain was there. Cruel hands, a hundred hands wouldn't let her go. She felt the twist of fingers at her breasts. She smelled her own burning flesh.
It was the way John Winters, the apartment manager, found her when he opened the door with a pass key.
"She's coming around. You can talk to her but only for a few minutes."
Joy opened her eyes for a moment. Then she closed them again as a wave of pain caught at her chest.
"Miss Lansing. I'm Lt. Saunders. Police. I have to ask you some questions."
Joy forced her eyes open at the sound of the voice above her. She managed to nod.
"Can you tell us who beat you up? Did you know who it was?"
Joy shook her head. At the moment, she wished the voice would go away and let her sleep. She felt so terribly tired.
"We know you're Barton McLane's girl friend. Where is he? We think whoever beat you up wanted to know that. Did you tell him?"
"There ... there were two of them. They wouldn't believe me when I told them I didn't know."
"You mean you don't know?" The lieutenant persisted. "If you do, tell me. It could mean his life. The men who beat you up were under orders from Solly Maratti. You know who he is?"
"I don't know anything. Please leave me alone," Joy cried.
"That's enough. No more questions until she gets some rest."
Joy twisted her head to look at the voice coming from the far side of the bed. Her mouth quivered and a small gasp escaped. It was Clay Trent. His face was stern, no longer the boyish face she remembered, but it was Clay. For a moment, Joy thought she had passed out and this was some crazy dream.
He didn't seem to show any sign of recognition as he stared down at her.
He knows me but doesn't want to admit it, Joy thought to herself.
"It's important that this girl tells us what she knows, Doctor," Saunders said. "We know Maratti wants McLane. We have to find him first."
"You have your job and I have mine. This girl is in no condition for questioning. She's had enough already. Tomorrow," Clay said, sharply. "Right now she needs rest and some sedation."
"I'll be back in the morning," the detective conceded.
Joy watched him leave. The moment the door closed, she twisted and looked at Clay Trent. "Clay, I ... I ... "
"Don't try to talk," he said. "You've had a rough time. You need rest."
"Where did you come from?"
He smiled. "I happened to be on duty in emergency when they brought you in."
"I don't mean that. You're here, in New York. College, your father."
"I decided to intern in New York. Better opportunities. We'll talk about it in the morning."
Joy watched him fill a syringe. She felt the sharp thrust of a needle in her arm. Things grew hazy.