“Sixty-four,” Birdwell said dully. “But this is all a lot of lies you dreamed up,” he said defensively.
“We both know I’m not lying, Mr. Birdwell. Let’s not waste time.”
“Even if it’s true, you can’t prove it,” he flared up.
“Yes I can. I have a witness. That makes two of us. And what possible reason could either of us have for lying?”
“What witness? Who?” Birdwell was panicky.
“Rafe Proctor. But you don’t have to worry about Rafe. He won’t say anything unless I ask him to back me up. He wouldn’t tell the town council on his own. But I might. And then you’d lose your position on the school board, wouldn’t you, Mr. Birdwell? And Rafe would never think of telling Alice Simpkins’s father. But l would, and Rafe would back me up. He’s an awful big man, Mr. Simpkins is, and awful jealous about his little girl. I’ll bet if he knew you were peeping at her every night and jerking your chain he’d just about kill you. Now you don’t want the school board and Mr. Simpkins to know about your little sport, do you?”
“No.” Birdwell was defeated. “What do you want from me?”
“l want your promise that you’ll see to it there’s no suggestion from the school board that my father’s property be reassessed and that you’ll block any move to up his taxes. You do that, and I’ll see to it that Rafe keeps quiet and your secret won’t go any further than the three of us.”
“This is extortion!”
“Sure. So what? Is it a deal?”
“I have no choice. You’re a wicked, evil girl, Wilma Maiden!”
“And you’re a dirty old man, Mr. Birdwell. Just stick to your end of the bargain and I’ll stick to mine. Happy peeping with Alice Simpkins.” She chuckled and left then.
There was murder in Mr. Birdwell’s heart as he watched her go. . . .
Contrarily, lust was the emotion which stirred in Joe Ambler when he looked up and saw Wilma standing in the doorway to the back room of his general store. It had been a good five years since he’d seen his one-time salesgirl close up, and the time had increased her sex appeal. She sure was a juicy piece of baggage. “Well, hi there, Wilma.” He devoured her with his little pig eyes.
“Hello, Joe. I’ve come to talk to you about this scheme to yank the rug from under my father.” She came directly to the point.
Joe shrugged. “I ain’t denyin’ it. Ben owes me money an’ I aim to get it.”
“Why do you want to help them force him to sell?”
“That ain’t it. I jus’ want my money.”
“Nonsense. You’ve been giving my father credit for years. You know he’s good for it. If you ask me, you’re just doing this as a way of getting back at me because I wouldn’t let you make love to me years back.”
“Suppose that’s true.” Joe looked at her shrewdly. “I got a right to be miffed, ain’t I? You stole me blind an’ outside a coppin’ a few feels, I got nothin’ for it. Why shouldn’t I get some revenge if I can?”
“But it’s me that did all those things, not my father. Why take it out on him?”
“Same thing. What’s his is yours. I’m jus’ gettin’ a little of my own back is all.”
“Why settle for a little, when you can have everything you want?” Wilma cooed.
“What you gettin’ at, Wilma? I’m a frank man. Talk frank an’ maybe we got somethin’ to talk about an’ maybe we ain’t.”
“All right. You want to make love to me. You’ve wanted to for years. You promise to lay off my father and I’ll let you.”
“Now, that’s real interestin’. But it hardly seems like I oughta scotch the whole deal for one lousy roll in the hay. Naw, I want a deal more than that.”
“Like what?”
“First of all, you service me whenever I ask. Two, maybe three times a week at least. Second, it’s no deal till I get me a look at the wares. You strip down now an’ if I like what I see, why I reckon your pa’s bill can set awhile.”
“All right, Joe.” Wilma stepped into the center of the harsh glow from the ceiling light. She kicked off her sandals and raised her skirt to take off her stockings. Staring him straight in the eye, she unzipped‘ her dress and let it crumple to the floor. Her slip followed it and she stood before him in strapless bra and panties. She saw a trickle of drool slide down Joe’s fat chin, unnoticed by him. She reached behind her and unclasped the bra. It fell to the floor and her breasts jutted out firmly toward Ambler. Slowly, she inched the panties down over her hips. She heard him expel his breath as the first tendrils of red hair appeared to his view above the descending garment. She shucked them off altogether and stood naked before him. She turned once, slowly, provocatively, and then faced him. “Well? she asked. “Is it a deal?”
“It’s a deal!” he answered hoarsely. “I’ll take the first payment right now.”
“Come and get it.”
“Not here. It’s too risky. Down cellar. Come on.”
Wilma followed him down to the cellar of the store. “You’re crazy,” she said when they reached the bottom of the stairs. “It’s f-freezing down here.” Her teeth were chattering.
“’At’s cause I use it to store my meat. Gotta keep it cold, or it’ll spoil. But I’ll fix it. Jus’ lemme turn the temp’ature up an’ we’ll go up an’ wait a few minutes an’ it’ll be fine.”
When they came back downstairs a few minutes later, the cold had indeed dissipated. “That’s better, hey?” Joe said.
“Yes. But, Joe, it stinks to high heaven here. What’s that awful smell?”
“Jus' dead cow an’ pig. I kinda like it. Makes it seem sort o’ more excitin’ somehow.” He squeezed her breast and led her over to a dead side of beef. “Lay down,” he said. “This about the softes’ bed aroun’, I reckon.”
“To each his own.” Wilma did as she was told and concentrated on trying not to notice the stench around her as Joe began to make love to her.
He was a fat man and built very small. With his weight pressing down on her, she couldn’t really tell whether he was performing the act or not. Only his hoarse breathing in her ear was the tip-off. He made noises like a pig. Wilma tried to judge them and made her body writhe so he’d think she was swooning with excitement. But the only thing she could really feel was the clammy beef-flesh enveloping her body. Between it and the stench, by the time Joe gave one final little wriggle to indicate that he was finished, Wilma was busy trying not to vomit.
"You be back here Thursday, same time,” he told her as he led the way back upstairs.
“And you’ll see that my father gets all the credit he needs?”
“Jus’ so long as you keep comin’ back when I want you, I’ll see he gets what he needs within reason.”
Wilma went home and scrubbed the stench from her body. . . .
It was smelling sweet again when she looked up Luke Partridge. She found him at the same bar where he’d fought with her father. “I want to see you alone, Luke,” she told him. “Come on over to one of the booths.”
“I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you, Wilma. Nor to nobody else name a Malden. You pa’s takin’ the bread from my kids’ mouths.”
“You’d better listen to me, Luke, or the next one I’ll be talking to is Annie May.” "
“What you talkin’ about? What you got to do with my wife?”
“Come on over to a booth and I’ll explain.”