Lars moved forward, like an impatient guard dog, but Vern held him back with his hand on his chest "No, wait," Vern said. "Look!"
Another car was rounding the bend. Maria drove through the entrance, the gate closed, and the second car came to a halt to await the second opening of the gate. Vern was glad that the two cars were widely spaced. Otherwise the second car might have slipped through right behind Maria.
The second car came to a halt now before the gate. It was Lance Gregory. Apparently, Lance had left a car at the airport, and so he and Maria had returned in separate cars. Vern was glad for that. He didn't want an hysterical woman screaming while he and Lars worked Lance over. Gregory's window was down. Good!
"Now!" Vern snapped. "Let's go."
Lars strode quickly to Gregory's car. Gregory barely got a glimpse of Lars before Lars grabbed him hard about the neck, clamping him between his forearm and bicep to cut off any possible cry for help. Lars held Gregory that way while he reached down and turned off the ignition and lights with his free hand.
"Get him out of the car!" Vern commanded. "Drag him over here. Quick."
Lars dragged Gregory as if he were a sack of dirty laundry. Gregory's heels bounced on the asphalt driveway, then whooshed over the ivy to where Vern stood, fifteen yards from the car.
"All right, hold him up-hands behind his back-while I get him," Vern said.
Gregory looked terrified. Vern didn't care if he knew who was beating him up or not.
"Yeah, it's me," Vern said. "Remember me? Well, I'm not going to rough you up as bad as Roscoe did me, but I do owe you something, buster."
For just an instant, Vern hesitated, wondering how he could possibly have sunk so low as to attack a fellow human being this way. But then he remembered Roscoe's fists hammering at his body and face, and he knew he could finish what he had so carefully planned.
Vern threw a right and then a left-not too hard-one blow at Gregory's left cheek and the other at his right cheek. Gregory grunted painfully, even squealed a bit with each hit, and Vern was surprised to learn that he rather enjoyed striking Gregory, even if he was helpless.
Next, Vern drove two hard rights to Gregory's midsection. His fists sunk in deep.
"You're out of shape, Lance," Vern said. "That makes it nice though. It's easier on my hands."
"Please," Gregory managed to utter. "I-I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you. "D-Don't hit me again…please."
"Please? Now that's odd. I don't think your goon, Roscoe, would have spared me if I'd said please. No sir. In a way, you should be grateful to Roscoe though, Lance. You see, he hurt my ribs, so I can't really swing as hard as I'd like. But there are places to hit that don't require a lot of force, aren't there?"
Vern then drove a fairly light blow into Gregory's groin. Gregory screamed, and Lars clamped his big ham-like hand over the handsome face.
Now Vern was really in the swing of it. Gregory became a symbol of every frustration Vern had suffered in his life. He slammed rights and lefts mercilessly to Gregory's face, stomach, groin.
"How do you like it, huh? You like to give orders for other people to get worked over, don't you? Well, how do you like this, and this, and that, and that…"
Gregory grunted dramatically with each punishing blow. Vern knew he was not cracking ribs. Except for the one blow to Gregory's groin, Vern was certain he was hitting about half as hard as Roscoe Synder had hit him in the parking lot that night.
Finally, Vern backed away, delivered two last blows to the body and let his arms hang at rest. "You'll forgive me, Mister Gregory, but, like you, I am out of shape. In fact, I'm exhausted. Just be glad I didn't let my man here work you over. So long. Just rest where you are. We'll call your friends and tell them to come and fetch you. Come on, Lars. Let's go"
Lars let Gregory collapse in a moaning heap in the damp ivy. There was the sound of music coming from the house. Apparently the party had begun without its host
As Vern and Lars got into Vern's car, Vern heard Maria's voice calling. "Darling? What are you doing, Lance? Lance?"
Vern pulled out from the curb. He hoped Maria would be the one to find the bleeding Lance Gregory. Yes, that would be perfect, he thought
"Well go somewhere and have a victory drink, Lars," Vern said, driving fast toward Sunset Boulevard. "Yes, we'll have a drink and then I'll pay you what I owe you."
"Umm," Lars grunted, nodding.
Chapter 11
It pleased Vern that Lance Gregory was a practical Machiavellian businessman. Vern smiled victoriously now as Maria Reese played the role of a humble mediator over the telephone. Just two days had passed since Vern and Lars Brunsgaard had assaulted Lance Gregory outside his Benedict Canyon home.
"… so Lance asked me to relay this message to you, Vern. He promises that he and Roscoe will not retaliate if you and Lars agree to call it quits, too."
"Very wise of him," Vern said crisply, "particularly with that ape Roscoe laid up in the hospital. Very well then," Vera said. "Agreed…no more violence."
There was a long silence, and then Mafia, whimpering, said, "Oh, Vern, how could you?"
Vern visualized Maria's pouting mouth, the tears streaming down her cheeks, her heaving bosom, and it gave him pleasure. Gone were the days when Maria's breasts were for sucking and that full-lipped mouth nursed at his cock. No, now she was Lance Gregory's woman, by her own decision, and he felt nothing but contempt for her. At last, he had freed himself from her spell.
"How could I?" he repeated. "It was easy, my dear. When you love a woman, and she kicks you in the teeth, many things become possible. You and your now bashed-up lover-boy taught me a lot about the realities of life. Enjoy each other…you deserve each other. So long, bitch!"
Vern hung up then. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was nearly 5:00, and Ellen should be home from school by now. He still felt somewhat reluctant to invite her to accompany him to Montague Country Club for the affair with Reardon, Hendricks and Wyatt, but he had to invite someone. What the hell? he thought. Stan says she's lost weight. If I can just convince her to keep her mouth shut maybe everything will work out all right. He dialed.
Ellen answered, and Vern adopted an almost business-like manner. "Hello my dear," he said. Tm calling to ask if you'd care to accompany me to a busi-nessy sort of social function tomorrow night."
"Well," Ellen said, surprisingly independent-sounding, "I suppose so…yes. To what do I attribute His Excellency's invitation? Did your girlfriend go completely lesbian?"
"Lesbian? What are you talking about?"
"Vern, I had the pleasure of receiving a visit from Maria Reese-here-at my apartment. I assure you she's quite butch. If she isn't, then she's the most effective switch-hitter I've ever met!"
"I don't believe you," Vern said, stunned. "Maria Reese a dyke? Impossible."
"Lots of women put on great shows for certain men friends, and still swing with females on the side, dear. But no matter…I'll tell you all about it sometime and let you judge for yourself… Now, let's see, you want me to accompany you tomorrow night. Very well. Shall I meet you there, or do you wish to call for me?"
"I'll pick you up about seven-thirty, and coach you on the way to the club."
"Coach me?" Ellen laughed. "Yes, you just do that. All right then, seven-thirty. Please be on time."
And she hung up on him! Vern scowled at the phone, puzzled. Ellen seemed awfully cocky for a woman he had neglected. Who in hell did she think she was, anyway? He paced his office for a minute, then wandered over into Stan Kettering's office.