The Anatomy of Violence (10 page)

Jules winked at me and leaned back, putting his feet on the desk. His voice became velvety. “I didn’t think the big papers would send reporters for this.”

Harry’s voice changed, too, becoming taut. “Mister Curtright, I’ve played the story fairly. At first I took only what was on the blotter, privileged material, then the others had pictures, banners …”

Jules picked up a silver-bladed paper knife and pricked idly at his leather-framed desk blotter. “How’d you say the other papers got it?”

“Well, I guess some of the boys have been doing stringer work on the side.” He chuckled hollowly. “Little extra dough, not much …”

“You’re in charge, Harry.” Jules was stabbing the knife deeper into the blotter, but his voice was still smooth velvet. “You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Harry’s voice was wary.

“And if you want to pay men to work for other papers it’s all right with me, you know that, don’t you?” He paused, but there was no answer. His neck muscles showed as he jabbed the knife through the blotter. “You know that, don’t you, Harry?”

“Yes. I’ll … I’ll fire them.”

Jules smiled and jerked out the knife. “Up to you, Harry. Same way with this tie-in on Stella Day.” Now the knife gouged up little chunks of the blotter.

“We’ll drop the tie-in, Mister Curtright.” Harry sounded tired.

Jules’ smile broadened. “Harry, I leave you to run the paper the way you think best. Though it’s too bad we can’t just drop the whole case. It’s been two days—”

“But I’ve got a front page banner on the arrest!”

“You’re in charge, Harry, you know that.” Jules held up the knife and slowly bent the blade back against the handle with his thumb. “Incidentally, old man Shaeffer’s been wanting me about something. I heard his boy’s getting out of journalism school.”

“Excuse me a minute.” Harry’s voice was a lifeless mumble when he returned. “We’ve killed the front page, Mister Curtright.”

“Oh? Did you decide to drop the Crewes case completely?”

“I …” his sigh was audible. “Yes, I decided to drop the Crewes case … completely.”

“Harry, you’re a good man.” His voice was hearty. “I’ll tell old man Shaeffer he’ll have to buy another paper for his kid to practice on.” Jules hung up and threw the paper knife into the wastebasket.

I hung up with a queasy feeling in my stomach. He’d done all that, I thought, to give me an example of the things he could do for me. He seemed to regard the city as a game board, and the people as pieces he could move about. Today he was showing me how the game was played; tomorrow I might be one of the pieces.

“Harry is a good man,” said Jules, getting up. “He makes his own decisions and keeps his self-respect. I just show him the alternatives.”

“Self-respect.” I knew this should have some meaning for me. “You always leave them with that illusion?”

He laughed. “Illusion? The only illusion is in thinking I can’t control the alternatives.” He started pacing behind the desk in long, smooth strides. “Granddad once moved the company out of town for six months when the city council wouldn’t rezone an area he wanted for a station. Cost him half a million but they asked him back when grass started growing in the streets.”

I watched his pacing and realized he was a big man; almost as big as Richard. Only the smooth way he handled his body and his constant, unceasing movement made him seem smaller. He was trying to tell me something in his story about his grandfather, but I didn’t get it. “Why didn’t your grandfather just change his plans for the station?”

“Why?” He stopped and looked at me as though I’d ask what was the color of grass. “Because they told him he couldn’t put it there.” He jerked open a drawer and took out what looked like an ordinary rock set on a gold pedestal. “I got this chunk of red sandstone off the top of a rock chimney in Utah. They told me it couldn’t be climbed.” He threw it back on the desk and it left a scratch in the mahogany. “They advised me to take bankruptcy when Grandmam died. Now we’re worth ten times as much as before the depression.”

He fumbled in another drawer and brought out a bracelet of rubies in an old-fashioned gold setting. “When I first tried to buy this, the owner wouldn’t sell because it was a family heirloom. Then his company had a run of bad luck. Five years later, I bought him out, on the condition he’d throw in the bracelet.”

“You must value it highly,” I said.

He tossed it in the air and caught it. “No. It’s the getting that interests me, not the having.”

“I can’t believe that.”

He grinned and threw the bracelet. I caught it. “You’re giving it to me?”

He nodded and leaned back against the desk, grinning down at me.

“As a gift, without strings?”

Again he nodded.

I lay it across my wrist. The rubies stood out against the white skin like drops of bright blood. “All right.” I let it slide into my hand. “I’ll trade it back to you for Richard’s bond.”

He shook his head from side to side, then threw the bracelet back and laughed. “That’s ten times what I paid for it!”

I waited, holding it in my palm.

“You win. I’ll put up poor Richard’s bond,” he said, catching my wrist and pulling me to my feet. “On one condition, though.” He tilted up my chin and touched his fingertips to my cheekbones. “A beauty queen shouldn’t be growing circles under her eyes. Go out tonight and have some fun.”

“With you?”

“I’m not John Alden.”

Somehow, I’d get in touch with Captain Riemann later. “All right, I’ll go.”

His grin burst forth again. “Good. I’ll pick you up.” He walked with me to the door, his hand warm on the small of my back. “Incidentally, I can’t put up the bond until morning. Is that soon enough?”

“Not if we go out tonight.”

He half-smiled and shook his head slowly. “Nothing in advance, eh?” He bent and brushed his lips against my forehead. “Laurie, you’re a grim girl, but I love you.” He smiled and opened the door. “See you tomorrow night then.”

In the street I pushed away my disappointment at failing to get Richard out tonight. I couldn’t complain; a promise for a promise, and nothing lost. Rich could stand another night in jail if he knew he’d be getting out tomorrow.

I was nearing the station when Sergeant Johnson pulled to the curb beside me and accused me of breaking my promise. I jumped in, patted his cheek, and told him I’d been searching all over for him. “Could we go to the trailer court now? I’ve got to pick up a book, some clothes, and a dog.”

Supper was a silent, tortured meal. I was thinking of Captain Riemann, and my stomach jumped every time a dog barked. I could talk little without revealing what I’d done that day; Gwen was silent, perhaps for the same reason. Daddy took our silence personally, and was at first apologetic about Richard, then angry.

I left the table with the few bites I’d eaten lying in my stomach like a lump of clay. I fed George and Goldie, wishing them better appetites. But Goldie was pining for Rich, and when I patted her, George gave me an accusing look and went to sulk under his shrub.

I showered, then I dressed and lay on the bed to wait for Captain Riemann. Soon I’d know who the man was, and I wished daddy hadn’t hidden the gun.

At nine o’clock I heard it.
Owoooooo … yip yip yip.
Pause.
Owooooo … yip yip yip.
I jumped off the bed and ran to the window. Then my heart sank. The tree limb had been cut off—I’d been planning to climb down it.

I heard the sound again.
Owooooo … yip yip yip.
Pause.
Owooooo … yip yip yip.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” I whispered. I took off my shoes and crept downstairs, through the living room behind Gwen’s chair, out the back door. I felt the concrete of the back steps still warm on my bare feet, then a flashlight stabbed the darkness from the corner of the house.

“Git outa here, you crazy hound!
Git!”

I heard a thrashing in the willows, then the beam impaled me. “That stupid hound wake you up, Laurie?” It was Sergeant Johnson. “He’s gone now. Be a good buddy and go back inside.”

“All right.” Surely Captain Riemann would come back. I stepped inside the door to wait, ready to run out this time.

Sergeant Johnson came to the bottom of the steps; I felt a prickle of irritation. If he wanted to talk …

“It’s a helluva night, Laurie. Did you know Captain Riemann?”

I gasped. “Did I
what?”

“Poor old guy was run over on the road about twenty miles east of here. Couple hundred yards from his car. They figure he was drunk, got out and started wandering down the highway. They’re looking for the car now—”

I felt my knees go watery as I pushed open the door. “Is he dead?”

“Lord, yes. The patrol said his body was smashed all to hell. A good man in his day, Riemnan, but the bottle …”

I was sick with horror.
Tomorrow I’ll be all dried out,
he’d said. But I knew what had happened; he hadn’t gotten drunk, he’d gotten too close to the man; maybe he’d even tried to arrest him. I wondered how long it had taken Riemann to die, how long before he told his killer the signal we’d agreed on.

I heard the sound again, far down by the black river.
Owooooo
…
yip yip yip.
My ears rang and I saw the stars wheel overhead as I fell.

I
AWOKE
into a jagged day.

Someone had dressed me in long pajamas and put me to bed. My nose caught the woodsy scent of Gwen’s skin freshener. I opened my eyes to see her sitting on the edge of the bed in a cotton housecoat. “What time is it?”

“Seven.” Heavy shadows lay under her green eyes. I started up and she pushed me back gently. “You’ve got to stay in bed today, Laurie. You were raving most of the night.”

“Raving?” I rolled a woolen tongue around my mouth and felt weakness in my bones. “What about?”

“Plaster footprints, Captain Riemann, a picture of Eileen, and a damn dog.” She fumbled a cigaret from her pocket.

“And daddy was here?”

Gwen lit her cigaret and nodded. “Getting grayer by the minute. He went to Riemann’s place and found nothing. No metal locker. No plaster casts. No picture of Eileen. Nothing.”

“Give me a cigaret.” I felt cold inside; no doubt now that Riemann had been murdered and his evidence destroyed. And I was the only one who knew what he’d found. I drew on the cigaret and tried to relax. “Where’s daddy now?”

“The capital. Said he’d try to interest the state police in Riemann’s death. He’s … Laurie, I never saw Ben scared before and it scares
me.
He said to keep you in bed if I had to tie you.”

“Can’t, Gwen. Rich gets out today.” I slid my legs across the bed and winced as my knee brushed the covers.

“What is it?” Gwen pulled up my pajama leg and clucked at the brown spot on my knee. “Floor burn? You must have gotten it night before last. I’ll get something.”

“Later, Gwen—” But she was gone. Bottles clinked in the medicine cabinet, then she returned with a jar of salve.

“Gwen, I have a lot to do.”

She ignored me, slid the pajamas up above my knee and applied the salve. “So Rich is getting out today?”

“That was the deal.” I lay back as her blunt fingers smoothed salve over the burns.

“Deal?” Her head jerked up. “You made a deal for a twenty thousand dollar bond?”

I didn’t answer.

“Laurie … only Jules Curtright could make a deal like that. You’d be better off selling it at the State Line Club, ten bucks a trick.”

“The deal isn’t to sleep with him. We’re just going out.”

She laughed without humor.

“What’s so bad about going out with Jules?”

“It’s give and take.” Her voice was flat. “You give and he takes.”

“Gwen, have
you
gone out with Jules?”

“You won’t tell Ben? He has it hard enough, working for Jules now.”

“No—but you did go out with Jules.”

“I knew better than that. I grew up with Jules. We weren’t social equals.” She laughed without humor. “We had that little farm next to the Curtright mansion. Where Ann’s dad is now. Jules was always running off to our place to get away from his grandmaw.”

“He told me about her. Called her Grandmam.”

“Yes. I could always tell when he’d had a fight with her. He’d play so …
rough.”

“Play?”

“Not the way you think, at first. He was twelve and I was eleven. It was a hot day and a drought year and the grass was yellow and burnt on the ends. Jules came over. He always did because the old lady didn’t allow me over there. His eyes—you’ve seen how dark they are—looked like they’d burn clear through me. Said he’d been locked up, and he’d thought of something he’d like to try.”

“You let him?”

“He hit me with a stick when I wouldn’t take my dress off. I was curious too, though. At first I … helped him a little. But he had the idea it was supposed to hurt me. Got mad when I quit crying. So he twisted my arm until I … cried again.”

I stood up. Gwen’s eyes followed me as I pulled on my panties. “Where are you going?”

“Out.” I took a bra from the dresser.

She stood up frowning. “Your father said no.”

“He works his way. I work my way.” I hooked the bra and slid the clasp around to the rear. “Nobody is going to shut me up in a house.” I jerked the straps in place.

“I won’t stop you.” Gwen stood behind me as I opened my closet. “But the police might.”

“Who’s out there?”

“Same sergeant. Looks like an undertaker trying to keep a straight face. His girl friend just brought him coffee.”

“That’s his wife.” I took out a square-necked blouse.

“Girl friend, I said. Men don’t pinch their wives on the fanny at six in the morning. And she didn’t have a ring.”

So Johson had lied about the wife and kids. It would make dealing with him easier. I pulled the blouse over my head and turned my back to Gwen. “Zip me?”

Gwen fumbled with the zipper, and I mused aloud. “What if Jules were the man who raped me?”

Her hand froze with the zipper halfway up. “What makes you think that?”

“You said he wanted to hurt you.”

“That means nothing.” She jerked the zipper up and her voice was tight. “Don’t mention that to
anyone.”

“No, but it’s funny. Eileen used to get all bruised up.” I wriggled into a skirt. “And I get sick when he touches me. As though my body wants to tell me something and my mind won’t listen.”

“Evidence like that would throw a jury into hysterics.”

“I know.” I sat down and started brushing the hair back from my temples. “But suppose I could prove Jules did it?”

Gwen’s eyes met mine in the mirror, wide and sincere. “You’d need evidence his own grandmother couldn’t doubt.” She gripped my shoulders. “Don’t push it, Laurie. You’ll get us all in trouble.”

“Trouble?” I powdered my jaw and saw that the bruise was lighter. “Aren’t we in trouble now?”

“Not Curtright trouble.” Her mouth turned down in a bitter smile. “That trouble doesn’t disappear when you powder your face.”

“You’ve had it?”

She nodded. “There was more to the story about Jules and me. Daddy caught us and whipped us both. That night our barn burned. Daddy found a gasoline can outside it. He went to the sheriff and said he suspected Jules. Nothing happened.”

“Well, a barn—” I touched my lips with lipstick and started to get up.

Gwen pressed down my shoulders. “A barn wasn’t enough. Next year was a drought year too and we went busted. Like everyone else, daddy went to the bank for a loan to last another year. Curtright’s bank turned him down—no reason given. Daddy sold the farm to the Curtright’s to pay his debts and died on relief.”

Gently I removed her hands from my shoulders and stood up. “Your dad had only an empty gasoline can. I’m talking about proof—solid proof.”

“You’d get no help, anywhere.” She caught my arm and looked hard into my eyes. “Laurie, the Curtright’s never work directly. We hate the people who work for Jules—his mayor, his editor, his police lieutenant, his banker. We forget who’s behind them. People lose jobs, homes, farms. They move away. They had tough luck, we say.” Two red spots appeared high on her cheeks and her voice rose. “Their tough luck was running up against Curtright.
You want that to happen to us?”

“Gwen, I don’t intend to accuse Curtright in public.” Her fingers were hurting my arm and it surprised me; I’d never seen her emote before. “I have no proof—yet.”

“Laurie, I tried to help after I goofed at the beginning. But if you plan to start nosing into Curtright business I’ll keep you home if I have to sit on you.”

“I’m just going out to meet Richard, Gwen.”

“Sure?” She let go of my arm and looked dubious.

“Positive.” I put my arm across her shoulders and we walked out together. “You’ve been a big help, Gwen. And I just remembered Jules couldn’t have done it. He was in the State Line Club when it happened.”

Downstairs she handed me a bundle of letters, two inches thick. “They’re addressed to you but take my advice and don’t read them. They’re probably like those phone calls.”

“There may be clues.”

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’ll be in the garden. I want to be able to tell Ben I didn’t see you leave.”

I started ripping through the mail. Only a few had return addresses, but the postmarks showed that degeneracy had no geographic center. They came from everywhere in amazing variety.

A girl sent a bulky letter detailing how she’d been assaulted by four men. Someone else had taken my face from the newspaper and pasted it on what was intended to be obscene drawing. It was too crude for obscenity. I got impatient and started skimming the mail.

I stopped at a letter addressed in a careful, vertical hand. The perfect circle above the “i” was Ann’s. I ripped it open.

“Dear Laurie, I’m sick tonight. I feel like there’s half a dozen bongo drummers shut up inside my head and I’m looking at the world through a scummy beer glass. Daddy found me and sobered me up. He read me the paper that told what happened to you. After that I was stone sober.

“I know how it is to be forced the first time because he did it to me. Remember the time almost four years ago when we planned to practice for the school play and I never showed? That was when. He said if I told on him, something bad would happen to someone I loved. So I didn’t tell, then or ever. It happened lots of times. And even when I got the chance to stop—by then I couldn’t.

“It seemed as though all I had to look forward to was when he and I would go away together.

“I hit bottom when Eileen started going out with him. I’d get sick I wanted it so bad. That’s why I went out with other boys.

“I’m telling all this so you’ll understand what I did to you and Eileen. I knew what he was going to do when he asked me to call Eileen outside the barn. I never regretted it about Eileen. She was so sweet when you were around it nearly made me puke. When you weren’t she was pure bitch.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, though. It was for your own good I tried to make you lose the contest. Take my word. And I didn’t know what he was planning when he told me to take the dojigger off your car. You get in the habit of doing what somebody tells you and you forget there’s such a word as why.

“Now I’m going to try and straighten up. I’m going some place where I don’t have a reputation. Mostly I’m going away because I don’t want to hurt you anymore and I don’t know what he’ll do to you next.

“But Laurie, believe me, he wouldn’t see anything wrong with killing you if he thought he ought to. His mind works funny. Like he came from some other planet and just naturally hated human beings. You wonder how I can love a man like that?

“I don’t think I love him now after what he did to you. Well, I’ll never know because I never intend to see him again. Maybe you’ll understand how I could do what I have when you really fall in love. I hope you have better luck than me. Your best friend, Ann.

“P.S. I trust you not to give this to the police. He says if he gets caught I’ll sit in the electric chair right beside him because I’m an accessory.”

My hands were sweating as I folded the letter and put it in my purse. Then I dialed the police station. “I’m calling about Richard Farham. Has he been released?”

“Hold on.” The unfamiliar voice returned after a minute. “His bond’s been put up. He’ll be out in a few minutes. You a relative?”

“His mother. Would you have him meet me in the drug store at the corner of Main and Third?”

“Ill tell him.”

I hung up and peered out the back window. Sergeant Johnson stood in the garden talking to Gwen’s bent back. Out the front window I saw another policeman at the end of the walk with his back to me. Someone had doubled my guard.

“George,” I called softly. George thumped in from the kitchen. I opened the front door a few inches and pointed to the policeman at the end of the walk. “Sic him, George.”

George took off with a scurry of toenails, barking as though he’d rip the man apart. I knew he wouldn’t bite—but Johnson didn’t. I watched the sergeant run around to the front of the house, then I slipped through the back door. Gwen didn’t look up as I ran within five feet of where she worked.

I reached the drug store five minutes ahead of Richard. I was in a booth when he came in. He wore a white bandage like a flag of truce on his forehead. He waved, then turned to the cigaret man and asked the time.

He walked over to the booth, grinning and setting his watch. “Hi, mom.”

I squeezed his hand and made room for him beside me. “Rich, we have to find Ann.”

“Has she disappeared?”

I nodded and gave him the letter. “This came today.”

Richard’s blue eyes moved quickly down the pages as he read the letter a paragraph at a time. He was nodding his head slowly when he handed it back. “Ann’s quite a girl. Now I know how the rotor cap got in my pocket.”

“Was she with you after you left the Barn?”

He nodded. “Let’s get out of here and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me here.”

“It isn’t conspicuous enough.”

“You want to be conscipuous?”

“Laurie …” He took my hand and gave me a level look. “I intend to stand out like a black cat on a snow bank. I want people to see me and remember when they saw me. That’s one reason for the bandage. That’s why I asked about the time. You know why?”

I shook my head.

“I’ll run through it for you. Koch thinks he has me on this case, but you can never be sure about the law. Now I’m free on bond, but let’s suppose something happens. Say a house is broken into, a kid’s bike is stolen, a girl is … hurt, maybe. Who is the only vicious criminal at large in Curtright City?” He tapped his chest. “Richard Farham. And where was he at the time of the crime? Did anybody see him?” He looked at me with his eyebrows raised.

“I see, Rich. But let’s hurry.”

At the door I had to wait again while Richard spoke to a man stacking cigarets in slots. “What time do you have?”

“Nine thirty,” said the man without looking up. “Ten minutes later than the last time you asked.”

“You sure? I’ve got nine forty.”

The man sighed and called to the woman behind the soda fountain. “Selma, tell the man what time it is.”

“Nine thirty.”

The man turned back to his cigarets. “Better get that watch fixed, fella.”

We’d gone twenty feet down the street when Rich suddenly laughed. “It just occurred to me that I can’t help being conspicuous when I’m with you. You realize I’m supposed to have attacked you?”