Get a Load of This (2 page)

     There was a great deal of talk, but of course she got off. Who killed Rabener was never discovered. After all, he was an enemy of society, and the State didn't want to spend too much money tracking his killer down.
     I've thought a lot about this since. It did strike me that if Fanquist had a lover who wanted, for some reason or other, to kill Rabener, this method was an exceedingly good one. Suppose this lover had suggested to Rabener to stage the crazy thriller night? Rabener never had those kind of ideas himself. Suppose this lover and Fanquist arranged that she should pretend to kill Rabener, whilst the lover, hidden somewhere, actually did the shooting, using a much heavier type of gun. While she was waiting the two months for her trial, the lover could have plenty of time to leave the country and set up somewhere, so that when it was over she could join him. It was obvious to me from the expression on Rabener's face that he certainly had not arranged for Fanquist to join in the fun. He knew all right when she shot him that he was going to die.
     Of course, this is just my theory. I'm probably wrong; but you know how newspaper guys get when there's a story around. But I did hear that she had sailed for South America, and that spot is as good as the next if you're hiding from the cops. What do you think?
     (The story of the London Hippodrome Musical, presented by George Black and produced by Robert Nesbitt.)

     
     Denny Merlin hit the north end of Daytona Beach in the late afternoon. He drove the Lincoln Zephyr V-12 slowly past the stadium and the ornamental coquina-rock bandstand. He looked enviously at the crowded beach and wondered if he had time for a swim, but decided that he had better get on and kept the car rolling. At the farther corner of Ocean Avenue he spotted the red triangular sign of a Conoco Service Station. He pulled over and ran up the half circular drive.
     Three attendants in smart white uniforms, with red triangular badges on their breast-pockets, came out of the office and began servicing the car. Denny pushed open the door and climbed out stiffly.
     “Fill her up,” he said, “and look her over. I'm going over to get somethin' to eat.”
     A short thick-set guy, wearing a foreman's armlet, came out of the office and said “Good evening.” He looked at the Lincoln with approval and then ran his eye thoughtfully over Denny. This guy was trained to recognize a good client from a bad one. He considered that Denny had a lot of money, was going on vacation, and didn't care a great deal how much he spent. He was right on every point.
     Denny took a cigarette from a heavy gold case and lit it. “Where can I get a decent meal?” he asked.
     The foreman pointed across the road. “There you are, sir,” he said. “Chesney's will give you good food and quick service; you don't have to look further than that.”
     Denny said: “O.K., that'll do. Have the bus ready for me in half an hour. I've still got some way to go.”
     “Yes, sir, it'll be ready. Goin' to Miami, sir?”
     Denny nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. How did you know?”
     The foreman grinned. “Oh, I guess they all go to Miami on vacation,” he said. “The traffic's mighty heavy this time of year. You'll have to keep going. There's a hurricane blowing up, and it wouldn't do to run into that.”
     Denny shrugged. “No hurricane's goin' to stop me,” he said. “What do I care about a hurricane?”
     The foreman grinned again. “Thought I'd tell you, sir,” he said. And thought to himself: “O.K., sucker, if that's the way you feel. Maybe you'll change the record when it starts to blow.”
     Denny said: “Well, I guess I'll go on over and have somethin' to eat. I'll be right back.”
     The foreman watched him cross the road and disappear behind the discreetly curtained doors of Chesney's, then he wandered over to the Lincoln and glanced inside. “Nice wagon,” he said to one of the attendants who was cleaning the windscreen. “I guess that guy's got a heap of jack.”
     The attendant spat on the sidewalk. “I bet he tips in dimes,” he said bitterly. “The bigger the car the smaller the tip. I know these guys.”
     The foreman agreed. He was watching two girls who had been standing under a shop canopy for some time, just opposite the station. They had stood in the shade for over half an hour watching the cars come in and pull out. He had noticed that they had been intently interested in Denny Merlin when he went into Chesney's and now they were talking to each other very seriously. They were an odd couple. The little one was a honey, the foreman thought. She was beautifully curved and blonde. She wore a thin red sweater which revealed her figure, and a short, pleated yellow skirt. Her well-shaped legs were bare and her feet were shod in yellow sandals. She was bare-headed and her face was tanned by the sun and wind. Her companion was a good six inches taller. She also was fair, but she had no feminine charms. In fact, she was almost mannish in her dress and appearance. She wore a pair of shabby yellow-white trousers and a black polo sweater. Her hair was cut short, like a man's, and her complexion was almost mahogany.
     As he watched them, they suddenly made up their minds and crossed the road, coming towards him. He moved away from the Lincoln, looking at the smaller of the two with an appreciative eye.
     The tall girl walked right up to him and said, “Like to do something for two deserving girls?”
     The foreman eyed her thoughtfully. She puzzled him. He couldn't place her at all. She had very hard green eyes, and her mouth was thin and cruel. Now that she was close to him, he was a little startled to see how broad and muscular she was. It irritated him that he had to look up at her. So, he said rather abruptly, “What do you want?”
     She smiled. Her teeth were big, white and beautiful. He noticed that her smile didn't reach her eyes. “The Lincoln over there,” she said, “where's it goin'?”
     The foreman looked at the smaller of the two and gave her a wink. She flushed and looked away quickly.
     The tall girl said: “Never mind that stuff for the moment. Where's the guy goin'?”
     “Miami—lookin' for a lift?” The foreman continued to ogle the small girl.
     “Yeah. Can you fix it for us?”
     The foreman shook his head. “Why should I?” he asked, shifting his feet a little. “We don't do that sort of thing on a station like this.”
     The tall girl turned to her companion. “Let me talk to him, Stella,” she said. “Move out of the way.”
     The girl called Stella hesitated, then walked away a few paces and stood watching the other two with fixed intentness.
     The tall girl moved a little closer to the foreman. “Nice, isn't she?” she said. “She's shy, but she could go for a guy like you in a big way.”
     The foreman took a step back. “Yeah?” he said. “What of it?”
     “We want that ride, playboy. I guess Stella would do her stuff if you fixed it for us.” The tall girl smiled with her mouth again. “How about it?”
     The foreman shook his head. “Once you're in the car, I'm left holding the can—nothin' doin'.”
     The tall girl shifted a little impatiently. “Got anywhere where you can take her?” she said softly. “You can't give her the works, there ain't time for that. But you can play around. Will that satisfy you?”
     The foreman began to sweat. “Nice sortta bitch, ain't you?” he said, looking over at Stella and licking his dry lips. “She wouldn't stand for it.”
     “Of course, she would,” the other said sharply. “Come on, for God's sake. Haven't you anywhere where you can take her?”
     He looked uneasily over his shoulder. “Why, yes, I guess so. She could come into the office.”
     “Well, go on then. I'll send her to you. Work fast, and fix that ride, playboy, or I'll start somethin' for you.”
     The foreman hesitated, then turned on his heel and walked over to the office. He glanced back at the two girls. The tall one was talking very fast. Every now and then she would emphasize a point with her hand, cleaving the air. Stella suddenly left her and walked rapidly towards the office, and the foreman stepped inside and waited for her.
     The tall girl sat down on the low wall that surrounded the station and lit a cigarette. She smoked slowly, her eyes intent on the restaurant across the road. She didn't once look towards the station office.
     About ten minutes later she saw Denny signal the waiter for his bill and she got to her feet. She walked over to the office and pushed open the door. The attendants were watching this little scene with puzzled grins, but she took no notice of them. She stepped into the office, but couldn't see anyone there. She called, “Come on, you two, he's on his way.”
     She waited a minute, her eyes searching the room impatiently, then called again. The foreman came through a door at the rear of the office. He was breathing heavily, and she could see the blood-congested veins on his neck. She smiled at him very contemptuously. “Go out an' fix that ride, Mr. Sheik,” she said. “An' fix it good.”
     He went past her without a word, and she went to look into the room beyond. “Never mind about those,” she said impatiently. “Take them off and leave them here. We're about to pull out. For God's sake, don't cry or you'll spoil everything.” She turned back to the office again, her face angry and her eyes viciously cold.
     Denny Merlin walked over to his car and nodded his satisfaction. The boys had certainly made a good job of it. He felt satisfied and good after his meal. He tossed a big leather and silver flask full of Scotch on to the front seat. He looked at the foreman and winked. “Got to have a little help on the way,” he said. “What do I owe you?”
     The foreman told him and Denny paid, giving him a five-dollar bill. “Split the change amongst the boys. I guess they've done a nice job.”
     The foreman licked his lips and said awkwardly: “There are a couple of dames in my office looking for a lift as far as Miami. Nice kids. Do you feel like giving them a hand?”
     Denny looked at him, startled. “I guess not,” he said abruptly; “no riders in this car. I don't want a couple of dames hanging around. What should I do with two of them?”
     “Sure, I just asked, sir,” the foreman said. “If they hadn't been something special I wouldn't have mentioned it. Maybe you'd like to see 'em first?”
     Denny got into the car. He thought the foreman had got a hell of a crust. “No, I'm sorry, but I don't take riders,” he said firmly.
     Stella came out of the office as he slammed the car door shut. She came down the concrete path into the sunshine.
     The foreman said very quickly: “That's one of them. Nice little thing, ain't she?”
     Denny looked over casually and then leant forward. He wasn't expecting anything as good as Stella. He hesitated, and the foreman, seeing him wavering, said: “Tough on those girls. They seem pretty anxious to get to Miami. It'd be a long walk for them.”
     Stella came timidly towards the Lincoln. Her eyes looked appealingly into Denny's. He put his hand to his tie and then opened the door. “You the little girl who's looking for a ride?” he asked, sliding out of the car again.
     Stella looked up at him. “We want to get to Miami,” she said. “We won't be a nuisance, honest.”
     The foreman noticed that the tall girl had kept out of sight. He grinned evilly. She was fly, that one, he thought.
     Denny nodded. “Sure, I shall be glad to give you a lift.” He looked round. “Where's the other one?” he asked the foreman.
     The tall girl had been waiting her cue. She came out of the office and walked with long strides to the car.
     Denny stared at her, his face falling a trifle. He didn't quite like the look of her. “You the other one?” he asked, raising his hat awkwardly.
     The tall girl smiled with her mouth. “Thank you,” she said. “May I introduce my friend here and myself. This is Stella Fabian and I'm Gerda Tamavich.”
     Denny would have preferred to have left her behind, but he had committed himself, so he just smiled and said: “Well, that's fine. I'm Denny Merlin from New York. If you're all set, let's go.”
     Gerda glanced at Stella and opened the front door of the car. “You sit with Mr. Merlin. I'll sit at the back.” She revealed her teeth as she turned to Denny. “I like plenty of room. My legs are a little long.”
     This arrangement suited Denny all right. He helped Stella into the car and climbed in beside her. Gerda got in the back.
     The foreman touched his peaked cap, but none of them looked at him. Denny felt that he had been impertinent, and the other two hated him. Denny rolled the Lincoln slowly out of the station drive into Ocean Avenue and headed down Broadwalk.
     At the cross-roads a traffic cop signalled him to stop. “What the hell does he want?” Denny asked, as the cop moved over to him.
     The two girls sat very stiffly in the car, watching the cop. Gerda took out a handkerchief and held it near her face.
     The cop saluted Denny with a friendly smirk. “Goin' to Miami, sir?” he asked, putting a large foot on the running-board.
     Denny nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “Can't I?”
     “At your risk,” the cop returned. “Sorry to stop you, but we're warning all traffic. Hurricane's on the way an' it's likely to catch you up around Fort Pierce.”
     Denny nodded. “I know,” he said, “the Conoco people told me. I'm going to get as far as I can. I'll stop at Fort Pierce if it looks tough.”
     The cop saluted. “O.K., sir, just as long as you know.” He took his foot off the running-board and waved them on.
     Denny scowled into the small driving mirror. “They're making a hell of a fuss about a storm,” he said. “It's got to be mighty bad to stop me.”
     Gerda leant forward. “You're a stranger to Florida, ain't you?” she asked.
     “Yeah, what makes you ask?”
     “It sticks out a yard. Folks who live around this district take these hurricanes seriously.”
     Denny was bored with this talk about hurricanes. The sun was still very hot and strong and there was only a mild breeze coming from the coast. There was not a sign of a rain cloud anywhere. He glanced down at Stella, who sat away from him in the corner of the seat. From that angle he could see her firm beautiful curves and he wished that Gerda wasn't with them. He said, “You don't worry about hurricanes, do you?”
     Stella glanced at him and shook her head. “I guess not,” she said. “I've seen a good few, and they don't really amount to anything.”
     Denny liked her voice. “What are you two girls, anyway?” he asked. “What's the idea of hitch-hiking?”
     Gerda took charge of the conversation. “We're looking for a job,” she said, almost in his ear. Her voice was low and flat. “Daytona Beach bored us, so we thought we'd go on to Miami. I guess we'll find something there.”
     Denny turned into the old Dixey Highway that led to Port Orange. He trod on the gas, sending the Lincoln forward with a sudden push. “Well, what do you do?” he wanted to know, looking with interest at Stella's nicely rounded knees.
     “Who we can,” Gerda said, with a harsh little laugh. “Don't we, Stella?”
     Stella didn't say anything.
     “I see. That sounds sort of bad,” Denny said, wondering what she meant. “I'm in real estate myself. I was wondering if either of you could shorthand or something. I might be able to get you fixed up.”
     Gerda laughed again. Denny frowned. He didn't like her hissing little laugh so close to his ear. “Don't do that,” he said sharply. “What's funny about it?”
     “Nothin',” she said quickly, “we think you're swell to offer, don't we, Stella?”
     Stella said after a pause: “You see, we do a song an' dance act. I guess office routine is way up the wrong street.”
     Denny grunted. “Sure,” he said, “I understand that. If you're an act, you don't want any sort of job. What makes you think Miami'll take to you?”
     “Oh, we don't know,” Gerda said, “we just hopin'. When you've pushed around as we have, hope is about the one thing that gets you anywhere, and nice-looking Stella.” She laughed again.