Terror comes creeping (7 page)

the house. I guess I was jumpy after what had happened, so I did. He came back after a while and said it must have been your idea of a joke or something—there was nothing at all m the pigpen except the boar."

Her face had an intent, half-frightened look as she went on with her story.

"Pete said he'd have to tell Mr. Hazelton what had happened to Qemmie and called him. Then he said I'd better stay in the house because there was no telling what a maniac like you would do next, and maybe you might decide to come back. He went outside again and I did as he'd said—I stayed inside the house. I was worried sick about Qemmie and what was happening to her.

"About an hour later I heard a car drive in, so I looked out the window, thinking maybe Pete had been right and you'd come back. But it was the police—State troopers. I saw Pete talking to them, and then they all walked off toward the pigpens. They were gone maybe fifteen minutes, then they came back to the house.

"There was a Sergeant Dixon in charge and he seemed awful mad about something. He used the phone but I didn't catch everything he said, only a word here and there. *Hoax'—*Have New York check on Houston' —that was about all. He asked me who I was and did I know a man named Houston. I said I was employed by Mr. Hazelton and I'd never met Mr. Houston, but I knew he was Mr. Hazelton's attorney. Then the police left.

"I asked Pete what it was all about, and he said it must have been some crazy practical joke of yours—^you must have called the troopers and told them your name was Houston and they should look at the pigpens. It still didn't make any sense to me.

"Then, this morning—^just after lunch it would've been, I guess, they brought Clenmiie back, and Martha with her."

"Who're they?"

"Mr. Houston and another man called Tolvar. They're staying at the farm for an indefinite period as far as I

can make out. Tolvar frightens me somehow—do you know him at all?"

"We met for the first time last night," I said. "He's the I athletic type—used me for kicks."

"I can't say I go much for Mr. Houston, either," she went on. "He's nothing but a fish—I'll bet there's not one drop of warm blood in his veins! But what really worries me is the girls, Danny. Now both of them are I being kept prisoners on the farm, and the others aren't making any secret about it. If one of the girls wants to go for a walk around the farm even, then either Tolvar or Pete goes with them. They watch the girls all the time."

"How's Clemmie?" I asked.

"Still on a downswing," Sylvia said soberly. "She's been that way since they arrived, and it's getting worse the whole time. I told Mr. Houston I thought maybe she should see a doctor, but he said I was overanxious. Before I left this evening I put her to bed under sedation."

"And Martha?"

"I don't know her very well," she said. "She doesn't seem any different to me. Aloof, unfriendly, arrogant— she lives in a world of her own the whole time. She was the one who went out walking the whole afternoon— with Pete right alongside her of course."

"I see you got your troubles, honey-chile," I said. "Which one was so urgent you wanted me up here?"

"Danny," she lowered her voice to a whisper. "I want you to prove to me I'm not crazy!"

"We can try the Boyd High I.Q. Rating Test," I suggested. "You only need answer 'Yes' to one question and you have a hundred per cent pass which gives you a very superior I.Q. and the opportunity to experience something unique."

"I'm not fooling, Danny," she said tensely. "I want you to take a look at something—out at the farm."

"Such as?"

"A pigpen," she said simply. 55

It looked like a sudden end to a beautiful evening. I lit another cigarette and thought regretfully of that double booking at the Biltmore going to waste.

"A pigpen, I've seen already," I told her.

"This means a lot to me, Danny. Will you take a look at it—please!"

••Why is it so important?"

"I don't want to tell you—^not until you've seen it. That way you'll be unbiased. It wouldn't take long and it means so much to me, Danny!"

"What with Tolvar, Houston and Pete guarding the girls so close, it's a wonder they let you out tonight," I said lightly.

"I'm allowed one day and two evenings free a week," she said. "I had a feeling they were glad to get me out of their hair for a while tonight."

"How did you get from the farm into Providence— drive yourself?"

"There's a beat-up station wagon that belongs to the farm—I drove that."

"The only trouble with me taking a look at the pigpen is that one of the boys might object," I said.

"They don't have to know anything about it—if we leave the station wagon on the road and walk in—we don't even have to go near the house," she said.

"I guess not."

"Will you do it?"

"I always was a sucker for a pretty face!" I told her.

She smiled demurely. "Why, Danny—^you haven't looked at my face once during the whole evening!"

It was ten after midnight when we reached the farm. I'd driven Sylvia back from Newport into Providence, and she'd picked up the station wagon from outside the hotel. Then I'd followed her out to the farm in my own car. She stopped the station wagon a couple of hundred yards down the road from the farm gates while I made

56

a U-turn and left my car facing toward Providence, and well off the road.

The air was crisp, and the moonlight much too bright. I could feel my spine prickling gently as I walked back across the road to where Sylvia waited for me. It could be a trap—Tolvar could have set up the whole thing with the blonde nurse as bait—and if they had, I was walking right into it There was still plenty of spare burial space inside the pigpens, I remembered dismally.

We walked in through the gates and down the edge of the tracks toward the house. Lights showed in a couple of rooms which didn't make me feel any better. When we were fifty yards from the house, Sylvia started to make a wide circle around it toward the pigpens which were some distance away from the back of the place.

Finally we reached the pens and Sylvia stood very close beside me, then shivered suddenly.

"O.K.," I said. "What now?"

"Take a look at Sweet William," she said softly.

I walked across to the pen and looked in. The moonlight was nearly as bright as day—in the center of the pen was a huge sow sleeping peacefully with her litter tucked in comfortably around her edges.

There was a slight rustle of Sylvia's dress as she moved up close beside me again.

"He's not here," I said. "What gives?"

"Yes, he's here," she said in a tight voice. "Two pens further along."

I checked and she was right—two pens further along and there he was. Once seen. Sweet William could never be forgotten.

"You see?" Sylvia said in a small voice. "You didn't remember the right pen."

"When you showed me around this morning, he was in that other pen," I said. "I'm sure of it!"

"I'm glad you said that, Danny." Something like relief sounded in her voice. "When I took a look tliis after-

noon, I thought I was losing my memory, so I had to be sure I wasn't."

"Yeah," I said absently.

"Danny," she said softly. "Why?"

"That Pete," I said admiringly. "He can think on his feet all right."

"What do you mean?"

"The last thing I said before I took off with Clemmie the other morning was for you to take a look at Sweet William's pen," I said. "Remember?"

"Of course I remember—but you never told me what I was looking for. What was in the pen?" she asked breathlessly.

"Someone had buried a body in dirt," I said soberly. "My guess is it belonged to Philip Hazelton."

Sylvia drew in her breath sharply and made a whimpering noise.

"Pete must have known the body was there," I went on. "He knew he could stall you from looking at the pen and seeing it, but he couldn't be sure I wouldn't tell the police—as I did. So he had to do something fast. And the easiest thing to do would be shift Sweet William into a new pen—so if anybody came to take a look, they wouldn't find anything."

"Danny," she said in a trembling voice. "That means it's still there—the body—in the pen where the sow and her new litter are right now?"

"It figures," I agreed. "Pete would've covered it up again, but he wouldn't know how much time he had, so my guess is he wouldn't have tried to move the body."

"Danny!" She clutched hold of my arm tightly. "I think I'm going to faint."

I heard a faint noise and turned around. A shaft of light showed momentarily from the back of the house, then was cut off again.

"Someone just left the house," I said. "We'd better get out of here."

"Can you see anyone?" she whispered nervously. 58

"No." I strained my eyes.

"How do you know they're coming this way?" she asked.

"How do I know they're not?" I said tersely. "We need to get somewhere out of this damned moonhght fast."

"I know," she said quickly. "The bam."

She started to run, and I followed her. It was maybe a hundred yards from the pigpens to the bam and I hadn't run so fast since that time in Las Vegas when a redhead tumed up for a date with a preacher in tow.

We made the bam and went inside. I pushed the door almost shut and then listened carefully. I could hear Sylvia's quick breathing behind me, and the loud protest of my own outraged lungs, but that was about all.

"Maybe he's gone back into the house?" Sylvia whispered a minute later.

"Maybe," I grunted. "But we'll stay here awhile and make sure."

Another couple of minutes dragged by, and Sylvia's teeth chattered slightly.

"I'm cold!" she whispered. "Can't we leave now?"

"In a Uttle while," I said, and then I heard a chinking noise as someone's shoe hit a stone. I pushed the door open another inch and squinted at the brightness outside. There was the silhouette of a man about fifty yards away, walking directly toward the bam.

"He's heading straight this way," I said. "Move over to one side out of the way, Sylvia, huh?"

"What are you going to do?" she whispered.

"I'll take him as he comes through the door," I said.

"Why don't we just hide?" she said.

"Where? He's coming straight in here!"

"What about the hayloft—he won't go up there."

"All right," I said. "If I slug him, the other two will come looking for him when he doesn't show up at the house, and it's a long way back to the road."

I followed Sylvia across the floor of the bam, and then 59

up the ladder which led to the hayloft. We lay face down in the hay and watched the door. I eased the Magnum out of the harness, holding it ready in my right hand, just for insurance.

The door creaked as it swung open, and a moment later the beam of a flashlight hit the floor. He came in slowly, playing the flashlight all around, into the corners, over the tractor and harvester. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was Pete. Sylvia's fingers dug deeper into my arm with every passing second. For maybe three minutes, he kept the flashlight swinging, then he must have been satisfied and went out, pulling the door shut behind him.

We listened until we couldn't hear his footsteps any longer, then Sylvia sighed deeply.

"I thought any moment I'd sneeze or something!" she said. "Any more of this and I'll be needing a nurse!"

"We'll give him ten minutes before we move out of here," I said. "He must have been looking for something —or someone—pretty hard. He made damn sure there was nothing in the bam that shouldn't be here."

"Maybe he was just making a routine check?" she asked. "If they're worried about anyone else prowling around and finding the body, they could check up regularly through the night, couldn't they?"

"Yeah," I said. "I hope you're right, and they didn't spot us from the house while we were over at the pigpens."

"Maybe we should stay here for a good while and make sure?" she said softly.

"O.K. with me," I said. "I've got no place to go in a hurry."

My eyes had got used to the darkness inside the bam, and the filtered moonlight through the one window was bright enough to show up most of the detail. I rolled over onto one side and was going to light a cigarette when I remembered the hay and went cold on the idea.

"Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"It's beautifully warm in the hay up here," she said softly.

"Sure is."

"You were pretty terrific to come all the way up here just because I asked you," she went on. "And then take a chance like this to look at the pens when I asked you another favor!"

"I'm one of the original knights of the Roundtable," I told her modestly. "A damsel in distress is our bread and butter—^you know we were the first guys to demonstrate chivalry?"

"How come?" she asked interestedly.

"Whenever we accepted the conventional offer of ■hanks from the rescued damsel, we'd take off our armor irst," I told her. "You'd be surprised what a difference it made to the whole art of love!"

She laughed softly. "Is that a hint, Danny? About the conventional offer of thanks from the rescued damsel, I mean?"

"It's a question of honor," I said. "Some girls prefer to fight for a while before they surrender—something like a boxer warming up before he gets into the ring."

She came up onto her knees and then to her feet, and brushed the small pieces of straw away that clung to her dress.

"I guess the least I can do is prove a point for you, Danny," she said. "Just to show my gratitude."

Where she stood, a shaft of moonlight slanted directly across her body from her shoulders to her knees, leaving her head and feet in shadow. I wondered if she knew and figured for sure she did.

My mouth went suddenly dry as I watched her peel off the gold lam6 and drop it gently onto the hay. Underneath she wore only a pair of white panties, sleek against her skin, and stockings held by fancy black lace garters. The high, full breasts looked like white marble imder the moonlight.

Then she dropped quickly to her knees beside me and lifted the Magnum out of my hand and tossed it onto her dress.