1979 - You Must Be Kidding (3 page)

‘Money isn’t everything.’

‘It helps, doesn’t it?’

In bed together, Betty sleeping, Ken lay awake. The brilliant moonlight made patterns on the wall. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t get Karen’s provocative body out of his mind.

It wasn’t until the sky turned pale, as dawn approached, that lie drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

The school meeting was a flop.

Ken realized this the moment he entered the hall and now there were only a few whites and blacks, sitting in the chairs that he, Karen and Henry Byrnes, the School Principal helped by the four young blacks who had distributed the prospectuses, had set up: enough seats to accommodate five hundred people.

As he stood on the platform, surveying the people he made a rapid count: thirty-four!

A flop of flops, he thought, but with a wide welcoming smile, he went into his carefully prepared sales talk. This time less than ten minutes, then he asked for questions.

The questions came, and he answered them. There was a panic, then a white truck driver said it was a hot idea and he would sign. There was a flurry of voices, and by 16.30, twenty-eight of Ken’s audience had taken out insurance policies for the future of their kids. The remaining six said they wanted to think about it.

The meeting closed at 16.45.

When the last of the parents had gone, Byrnes came over to Ken.

‘I’m afraid, Mr. Brandon, you are disappointed,’ he said, ‘but I can assure you, you have a big success. I know these people. They don’t like meetings. That’s why there was such a poor turnout. For thirty-four of them to come here is an achievement. These thirty-four will be your salesmen. They are going to brag about what they have done for their kids. Here, in Secomb, people are all close neighbours. The word will go around. You wait . . . you are going to be busy.’

Ken thanked Byrnes for his cooperation, shook hands and walked out into the hot sunshine with Karen at his side.

‘I hope he’s right,’ he said. ‘To me, that was a godawful flop.’

‘I think he’s smart,’ Karen said. ‘He could be right.’

He regarded her. They both had agreed that they should present a better image for the meeting. She had on a simple green cotton dress. He wore a blue, lightweight jacket and grey slacks. He had only recently bought the jacket. It sported miniature golf balls as buttons which he thought made the jacket pretty sharp. As they stood in the hot sunshine, he thought Karen looked sensational.

The past five days had passed quickly. Twice Alec Hyams, the Sales Director, had looked in. Ken was secretly amused to see that Hyams was most obsequious when speaking to Karen, asking her if she was happy with her typewriter and the air conditioning. Karen treated him as if he were of no importance, and pointedly went on with her typing.

While waiting for Sunday, Ken had called on the various stores and shops up and down Seaview Road, introducing himself and talking fire and accident insurance. He didn’t expect to get any business as everyone was already covered with other insurance companies, but he wanted to make contact and friends. His reception was good. Several of the storeowners said it would be more convenient for them to take out policies with the Paradise when the present policies ran out, and would talk to him later.

Ken saw little of Karen who was kept busy card indexing, typing letters and talking to the various people who drifted in, making inquiries. In one way, Ken was relieved not to be in such close contact with her, but always, at the back of his mind, especially at night, he kept thinking of her, sexually.

The office closed Friday evening. He spent Saturday tending the garden, then he and Betty went to a movie in the evening and had dinner at a seafood restaurant. He kept wondering what Karen was doing. She had said she had to spend Saturday afternoon on her father’s yacht.

‘That’s a real drag. Pop’s friends are creeps. Maybe I can find an excuse. . .’

He had seen Betty off on Sunday morning. She had again urged him to come to Fort Lauderdale as soon as he could, and he had said he would.

Now, with the meeting over at 16.45, he realized with dismay, he could be at Fort Lauderdale within the hour.

This meant he would be stuck with his dreary sister-in-law and brother-in-law until midnight!

Karen said suddenly, ‘Are you a handyman around the house?’

Surprised, he stared at her.

‘Why sure. Why the question?’

‘Just wondered. I guess you have a date right now. You couldn’t spare a couple of hours?’

Ken’s heart began to thump.

‘I’m in no rush. I do have a date, but not until eight o’clock. Anything I can do?’

‘I’ve just moved into my beach cabin. There are shelves to fix. Are you any good at fixing shelves?’

‘The best shelf fixer in the business. Beach cabin? Do you have a beach cabin?’

‘Strictly for weekends. I was there last night after I got rid of Pop and his creeps. It’s nice, but the shelves need fixing.’

They looked at each other. Ken hesitated. A red light began to flash in his mind. He thought of Betty. He told himself to make some excuse and drive over to the gruesome party, but no excuse came to mind. Karen, looking at him, a provocative smile on her full lips, was blatantly offering herself.

‘Maybe you want to go home,’ she said. ‘Some other time, huh?’

The red light snapped off and the green light came on.

‘I’ll be glad to help out,’ he said, aware his voice was husky. ‘How about tools? Maybe I had better go home and . . .’

‘I have everything,’ she said. ‘No problem. Let’s go.’

They got in his car.

‘It’s a godawful drag,’ she said, as she settled herself beside him. ‘Last week, I got caught speeding for the third time, and the fuzz have taken my licence away for a month. Last night, I had to take a taxi to the cabin.’

‘The cops here are sharp,’ Ken said, as he set the car in motion. ‘Where do we go?’

‘Paddler’s Creek. Know it?’

Ken registered surprise.

‘That’s the hippy colony.’

‘Right. My cabin is about half a mile from them. When I get bored, I visit them. They visit me.’ She laughed. ‘I dig them.’

‘That’s a pretty tough quarter.’

‘It’s fine.’

Ken stopped at the end of the lane and waited for a break in the Sunday traffic to move onto the highway. He kept telling himself he shouldn’t be doing this. He should be heading for Fort Lauderdale, but when the break came, he turned left, away from Fort Lauderdale, and drove along the busy highway.

Very aware of Karen as she sat by his side, he found nothing to say. His heart was thumping, and his hands on the steering wheel were moist.

Karen seemed content to relax, humming under her breath, one long leg crossed over the other.

After a mile or so, she said, ‘Take the next turning on the left.’

Ken slowed, signalled, and then, as other cars whizzed by him, he turned onto a narrow sandy road that led down to the sea. Ahead of him, he saw a thicket of Cypress and Mango trees.

‘Park here,’ Karen said. ‘We walk the rest of the way. It’s not far.’

He parked in the shade of the trees, and they both got out. The evening sun was still hot. As he locked the car, Karen walked into the thicket, following a narrow, sandy path. He stood for a moment, watching the swing of her well-rounded, provocative hips. Her walk really turned him on.

In the far distance, he could hear faint shouts, the sound of guitars and the thump of drums. The hippy colony was expressing itself. This part of the sandy beach was deserted. The citizens of Paradise City kept clear of Paddler’s Creek. Following Karen for a longish walk through dense thickets and flowering shrubs, watching the movement of her body, his heart now slamming against his ribs, Ken threw all caution to the winds. He knew he was going to be unfaithful to Betty. As he walked after Karen, he tried to assure his conscience that most men were unfaithful to their wives. He told himself he loved Betty, and no other woman could replace her, but this girl, walking ahead of him, had set him on fire. Betty would never know.

They came out of the thicket into a clearing. Ahead of them was a small pine wood cabin with a veranda.

‘Here it is,’ Karen said. ‘All mine!’

He followed her up three steps and onto the veranda.

Taking a key from her bag, she unlocked the door. Together, they moved into one big room, and she closed the door.

The air conditioner was on. The sunblinds were down and the room was dim and pleasantly cool.

He stood by her side, looking around.

Simply and comfortably furnished with a big settee and three lounging chairs, a T.V. set, a cocktail cabinet, an oval table with four upright chairs, and in the far corner, a king’s sized divan, the room presented itself as a relaxing love nest.

His voice unsteady, Ken said, ‘Nice . . . well, to work. Where do you want your shelves?’

She laughed.

‘Come on, Ken! You know as well as I do there are no shelves. I want you. You want me.’ She unzipped the back of her dress and let it drop around her feet. She had on only a pair of white panties. She held out her arms to him.

* * *

Ken woke with a guilty start, finding himself in darkness. For a moment or so, he didn’t know where he was.

He thought he was at home and in bed with Betty beside him. Then he remembered.

Darkness!

He groped around, found the bedside light switch and turned it on. By his side, satiated, Karen lay naked. Her long legs were spread wide, her hands covered her breasts.

She opened her eyes as Ken swung his legs off the bed and stood up.

He was staring at his watch. The time was 20.20.

Karen had taken him like a widow spider, devouring him and utterly draining him. In his wildest erotic dreams, he had never imagined a woman could do to him what Karen had done. His lust for her had completely evaporated. Staring at his watch, he could think now only that he would be suspiciously late to join Betty at the party.

‘Look at the time!’ he exclaimed. ‘I must go!’

‘What’s the panic?’ Karen asked, her voice soft and lazy. ‘It was good, huh?’

He was struggling into his clothes.

He must have been out of his mind to have done this, he was thinking. Looking at Karen, as she lay on the bed, he felt revulsion. She was nothing better than a degraded whore. He had to get to Fort Lauderdale before the goddamn fireworks began!

‘I’ve got to go! My wife is expecting me!’

She laughed, throwing back her head and arching her body.

‘So you have to go. Don’t get so worked up, Ken.’

He was dressed now. He had no feeling except revulsion for her. He started to the door.

‘Ken!’ The cold snap in her voice stopped him. ‘You haven’t said goodbye.’

He paused, staring at her.

‘I shouldn’t have done it!’ he said. ‘We were out of our heads!’

She slid off the bed and came to him. Her nakedness made no impact.

‘Never have regrets, Ken,’ she said. ‘Always take an opportunity, and never regret.’

He scarcely heard her. His one feverish thought was to get to Fort Lauderdale.

‘I must go!’

‘It’s dark. Can you find your car?’

‘I’ll find it!’

‘Wait!’ She crossed the room and took a powerful flashlight from a drawer. ‘You’ll need this.’ As she gave him the flashlight, her fingers caressed his hand. ‘You are a marvellous lover.’

He paid no attention. Snatching the flashlight from her, he left the cabin and ran towards the path that led through the thickets. His one thought now was to get to Fort Lauderdale.

Using the beam of the flashlight to light his way, he ran along the path. Halfway towards his car, surrounded by shrubs and trees, a stink of decomposition suddenly assailed his nostrils. He stopped short, grimacing. Some animal had died, was his first thought. Moving forward slowly, keeping the beam of his flashlight playing on the path, he was aware the stink became stronger. It was now stomach turning.

He moved forward more slowly, then the beam of the flashlight lit up a body lying across the path. His heart hammering, bile in his mouth, Ken stared, then turned icy cold.

The body of the girl was naked. From her crotch to her rib cage, she had been ripped open. Her intestines lay in a gruesome grey puddle of blood by her side.

Ken shut his eyes, turned and started back along the path. Then the horror of what he had seen proved too much. He stopped and vomited. For several moments, he stood motionless, sweat running off his face, then slowly, with lagging steps, he returned to the cabin.

He pushed open the door and moved into the big room.

Karen had put on a wrap. She spun around as he came in.

Seeing his deathly pallor, her eyes widened in alarm.

‘What’s happened?’ The snap of her voice helped to bring him to his scattered senses.

‘There’s a girl out there . . . dead! Some maniac has murdered her!’ He dropped into a lounging chair. ‘She’s ripped! It’s terrible!’

She stood over him.

‘What the hell are you saying?’

‘Can’t you hear me?’ he shouted. ‘There’s a girl, murdered and ripped! We must call the police!’

Looking at his sweat covered face, his pallor and his shaking hands, Karen went to the cocktail cabinet and poured a huge Scotch. She thrust the glass at him. He drank greedily, shuddered and let the glass drop on the carpet. The jolt of the raw spirit stiffened him.

‘Pull yourself together!’ Karen snapped. ‘So there’s a dead girl! It’s nothing to do with you, and it’s nothing to do with me! Who the hell cares? Get off to your wife!’

‘I can’t reach my car!’ Ken said. ‘I couldn’t go past that awful thing!’

‘You can go by the beach. It takes a little longer.’ She went to her closet. Throwing off her wrap, she put on a swimsuit. ‘I’ll take you.’

Ken looked at his watch. The time now was 20.45.

‘It’s too late! I can’t get to Fort Lauderdale. . .’

‘Get hold of yourself! Call your wife. Tell her you have had a breakdown. Then go home!’ She snatched up the glass on the floor and poured another shot of Scotch.