"They'll come when Tommy delivers his paper route."
"How did you know-"
"Evidently they have it all planned, dear," Thomas Barton said quietly. "For the children's sake, we must do what they say." He slid out of bed. He was a short, paunchy man. Both Bartons began to dress.
I moved over to Dahl, who was lounging in the doorway. "Sure wish I'd brought my camera inside with me," he said wistfully. He was eyeing Thelma Barton's struggle to dress under cover of her nightgown.
"You stay here and wait for Ellen," I said to Dahl in an undertone. "I'll take this pair to the Mace's, then come back and go with the kids on the boy's paper route when it's time. Margie's presence should assure Tommy's cooperation. When I'm ready to take them to the other house, hopefully you'll have corralled Ellen and added her to the collection. Give me your car keys and"-mentally I counted heads-"five pairs of your tie-cords."
Dahl handed them over. Five minutes later I ushered Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Barton out the back door of their home. I had no fear of antics on their part. They knew that Dahl was remaining with the children.
I drove Dahl's rental to the Mace house and delivered the Bartons to Preacher Harris in the basement. I had time only for a glimpse of the startled looks on four faces as the Maces and the Bartons met under other-than-ordinary circumstances. Rachel was as beamingly nude as before although there was a shredded sheet beside her on the mattress floor. "I tried to cover her up but she tears everything," Harris explained.
"So I see." I handed him the tie-cords. "You've got enough here now so they might be tempted to jump you. Tie them up. The girl first." I explained the hangup with Ellen and the fact that Dahl was waiting for her. "I'll be back with the kids," I concluded.
I left the house and started down the driveway to the car. A police cruiser was moving slowly through the block, one of the occasional "irregulars" that the Schemer had warned the police put on to avoid being typed by people like us. I stopped in the shadows. The cruiser's spotlight flicked on and lingered on the rental license plate, but the cruiser kept on going.
The danger would come on the cruiser's next swing through the area, if there was a next swing. Nine nights out of ten all the cops would have been back at the station, drinking coffee and writing up their reports, but this was the tenth night. One more look at those rental plates and the cop in the cruiser was liable to stop and try to find out the reason for its presence.
I went back into the house and called down to Harris in the basement. He came halfway up the stairs, looking angry. "I'm going to gag that goddam Barton woman," he declared.
"What's the matter?"
"She's getting everyone upset, running her mouth about the criminal irresponsibility involved in keeping the idiot girl a prisoner all these years. Mrs. Mace is almost in tears, and the two men are sitting there trying not to listen. We don't want Mace upset before he gets to the bank, do we?"
"Suit yourself about the gag, but find out from Mace where he keeps his car keys." I explained about the police cruiser. "I'm going to drive the Mace car and put the rental job in his driveway."
"Good deal." Harris went down the steps. "They're in a mixing bowl inside the first wall cabinet as you come in the back door," he called up to me in a moment.
"Right." I closed the basement door. I found the car keys and went outside again. I switched cars, although the sound of the Mace Rambler station wagon's engine made me uneasy. The car was unlikely to be dependable for anything but short hauls.
Dahl was waiting for me at the head of the stairs when I climbed to the second floor of the Barton home. He was grinning widely. "Ellen came in the window ten minutes ago," he said. "And would you believe she's stoned on Mary Jane? How do you like these small-town kids?"
"Let's take a look at her," I said.
Dahl led the way to her bedroom. "She'd never have made it if a couple of her pals hadn't boosted her up onto the porch roof. You never heard such giggling," he said. He turned on a bedside lamp. A tall, black-haired, beautiful girl was sprawled on her side in the bed, clad only in a pair of transparent panties. She was breathing raggedly but deeply. I could detect the sweetish odor of marijuana. A trail of feminine clothing extended from the open window to the bed. "She shed her clothes like they were on fire," Dahl continued. "How we gonna move her to the other house?"
"Mummified in a blanket, if we have to."
Dahl was staring down at the girl on the bed. "Great pair of teats. Nothin' wrong with the ass, either, even if she has been workin' it overtime tonight."
"Working it overtime?"
He smiled knowingly. "You don't have the eye for these things that I have, cousin. That isn't goose grease smeared all over her pussy hair."
I turned away from the bed. "Tie her up in case she comes around. Then we'll wait downstairs for Tommy's papers."
Dahl rejoined me in a few moments in the downstairs sitting room. "I just checked the younger kids," he said. "They're okay. The Little girl is mad, though. When I took her gag off for a second, she told me I was a bad man." Dahl chuckled.
We sat in darkness, waiting. I was trying to think of so many things at once that my nerves were fluttering. Had we overlooked anything? What exactly remained to be done, and in what order? I made mental lists, adding and subtracting.
A whistling noise brought me halfway up out of my chair. I stared through the window at the darkened porch. The noise was repeated, and I realized that it was behind me. The whistle ended in a snort. Dahl had fallen asleep and was snoring. I reached out a foot and kicked him in the ankle. "What the hell, Dahl! Do your sleeping later!"
"Restin' my eyes," he grunted. "The papers here?"
"Not yet. Stay awake and listen for them. I'm going upstairs and get the kids ready."
I climbed the staircase and went into Tommy's darkened room. I sat down on the edge of the bed beside him before speaking. "You and Margie and I are going to deliver your papers this morning, Tommy," I said. "I know the number of your deliveries and where you make them. If you're tempted to give an alarm, Margie will still be in the car with me. Do you understand?" He nodded, and I removed his gag and his wrist and ankle cords. "Get dressed," I told him.
I went across the hall to Margie's bedroom. Despite her uncomfortable tied-up position, she had fallen asleep. The healthy nerves of children. "You and I are going with Tommy when he delivers his papers, Margie," I said to her when I shook her awake. "If you try to give an alarm, it won't go well with Tommy." I removed her bonds. "Now get dressed."
I was on my way across the hall again when Dahl's whistle floated up the front stairs. "The papers just came," he informed me when I went to the head of the stairs.
"We'll be right down."
I went back into Margie's room. She was dressed in blouse and shorts, and her face was damp from a quick washing. I motioned toward her socks and sneakers on the floor. "Bring those along and we'll go to Tommy's room."
She led the way, her pigtails bouncing on her slender shoulders. There was a light on in Tommy's room. The boy was seated on the edge of his bed, dressed. I was getting my first good look at him. He was a handsome kid with wavy dark hair and a clear complexion but with a sullen expression. He grinned at his sister but said nothing.
I moved to turn out the light. "Better leave it on," he said casually. "People are used to seein' lights upstairs here at this time of the morning." He had a point. I removed my hand from the switch. "Where's Ellen?" he continued.
"In her room."
"Flaked out as usual?"
I glanced at Margie, who had seated herself on the bed and was drawing on socks and sneakers. "She's asleep."
"Asleep!" he said derisively. "Stupid broad!"