“Just a moment, Mr. Dawes!” Wilma’s voice was a command.
Dawes turned and looked at her, very annoyed by the tone.
“Don’t you think it’s only fair to tell me why you’re firing me?” Wilma was playing for time, putting her thoughts in order, deciding just what words she would use to slip the knife into Dawes.
“Because I have learned your true identity, that’s why,” Dawes told her coolly. “Knowing that you’re Ben Malden’s daughter would tell the stupidest of men—which I trust I am not—that your motives in insinuating yourself into my employ without informing me of your true identity are—well, questionable, to put it as kindly as possible.”
“I see. Well, Mr. Dawes, I’m not going to deny that you’re right. No, indeedy.”
“Then there remains nothing more to be said. Please just pack your belongings and leave as quickly as possible.”
“Whoa, Mr. Dawes! Just hold your horses. There’s something I’d like to tell you about before I get the bum’s rush.”
“Yes?”
“It concerns your darling daughter, Glory.”
“My daughter can have nothing to do with this. Kindly just say what you have to say and get out.”
“Oh, but you‘re wrong. Glory has everything to do with this. You see, I’m Glory’s lover.”
“What do you mean‘? This is outrageous! If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll call Henshaw and have you thrown out.” Dawes was so angry that his usual composure had slipped for the moment and he was sputtering. “How dare you imply such a thing about my daughter?”
“Just wait a minute, Mr. Dawes. Hold onto yourself before you have a stroke. I can prove that what I say is true.” Wilma reached into her purse and brought forth a note which Glory had written to her a few days before. It bubbled over with girlish appreciation of their “love”, and looked forward to the “ecstasy” of meeting Wilma at the motel again the next night.
She handed Dawes the letter and he read it disbelievingly. Then he read it again and his face filled with rage. “A daughter of mine—,” he said to himself, rather than to Wilma. “A daughter of mine -- How could it happen? How could a daughter of mine be so perverted, so evil?”
“That’s the way the libido bounces,” Wilma told him flippantly.
He ignored her. “A degenerate. My daughter is a degenerate. She doesn’t deserve to live. She pollutes the very air around her. A sex pervert! To make love to another woman! She is filth! She should die! I could kill her with my own hands!” He fumed like a benevolent god who’d been cruelly betrayed—righteously angry.
“Be quiet!” Wilma cautioned as he rose trembling with rage and his voice mounted in volume. “Do you want the Henshaws to hear you?”
“And you!” He turned to her as though noticing her for the first time. “You are the scum who dragged her down to your level! But why? Why? ”
“To keep you from destroying my father, Mr. Dawes. That’s why.”
“But what has that to do with this?”
“Everything. It’s why I seduced Glory and why I’ve been gathering the evidence of the relationship between us.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“It’s simple. If you don’t scotch all efforts to take over my father’s farm, I’ll reveal the truth about Glory and me to every exposé magazine, newspaper, and syndicated columnist I can find. They should eat it up. Can’t you just see it? Farm Girl Confesses Unnatural Relationship with Beautiful Socialite. What a headline that will make! Believe me, they’ll eat it up. I’ll drag the Dawes name through so much mud that neither you nor Glory will be able to show your faces anywhere in your rich little world! What do you think of that, Mr. Dawes?”
“I think it would serve Glory right if I let you do it. But I can’t. I have myself and the other members of my family to consider. What do you want me to do?”
“Just squelch all of Continental’s efforts to force my father to sell his farm. Just let that boss outfit you work for know that you think it would be an unwise move to expand in that direction.”
“I can’t do that.“ Dawes shook his head. “It would make me a traitor to the company I’ve helped build, the company that’s been my whole life. No. I’ll resign if that will keep you quiet. But I can’t double-cross a bunch of innocent stockholders who are depending on my judgment.”
“I’m touched,” said Wilma in a voice heavy with sarcasm. “But I’m afraid you’re just going to have to double-cross them. I’m not interested in your resignation. I’m interested in making my father safe from the persecution of your organization. I won’t mince words, Mr. Dawes. You have no choice but to do it my way.”
“You are blackmailing me!”
Wilma merely shrugged.
“You are the one who should die!” Dawes lost his temper again. “You planned all this! Only the mind of a monster could have done that! You are a vicious, disgusting monster! I tell you honestly that I could kill you for what you have done!”
“You’re in quite a murderous mood tonight, Mr. Dawes. First it’s Glory you want to kill, and now me. But you’re not going to kill anybody. I know your sort of man. You haven’t the guts to kill either a pervert daughter, or a monster woman like me. You’re a coward, Mr. Dawes. And cowards always act reasonably. So you think over what I said and you’ll see that there’s no other course for you to take. Sleep on it. I’ll call you tomorrow when you’re looking at things more calmly.”
Wilma went up to her room, packed her things and left. The reason she’d cut things short with Dawes was that she’d remembered something more pressing which required her attention. Now she drove straight to her father’s farm, parked the car in back of the barn, got out, went inside, and waited.
She had less than an hour to wait. Then she heard the footsteps she’d been expecting. They grew louder as they approached the barn and then she saw Rafe Proctor framed by the moonlight streaming through the door he’d just opened.
A heavy kerosene can was dragging down one of Rafe’s arms. In the other hand he carried an unlit kerosene lantern. Now he set the can down on the floor of the barn, fished around in his pockets for matches and lit the lantern. His jaw fell open with surprise as the light revealed Wilma, sitting directly in front of him, her eyes glinting hard at him over the length of the double-barreled shotgun leveled at his belly. The gun was left over from the days when her father used to keep chickens in the barn and used it to drive away the occasional stray dogs which preyed on them. Wilma had bought shells for it on her way back from the motel that afternoon. Now she clicked off the safety and smiled strangely into Rafe’s gawking face.
“Wilma!” he exclaimed, finding his voice at last. “Whatta you—”
“Hello, Rafe. What’s the matter? Arent’t you glad to see me?”
“Sure, but—”
“But what? Don’t you want to collect the bonus I promised you for that job you did on the Dawes girl?”
“Hell, yes!” For a moment Rafe’s eagerness made him forget the shotgun. Wilma jerked it slightly to remind him. “Whatta you holdin’ that there gun on me for?” he asked nervously.
“It’s a new sex game I’m going to teach you,” she cooed. “It’s called ‘What to do with a buggering barn burner.’ ”
“Barn burner?” The very way he tried to assume an attitude of innocence gave Rafe away. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you getting five hundred dollars to burn down my father’s barn. You know, Rafe, you really are a jerk. You could have gotten five times that much if you’d been smart. Burning down my father’s barn is worth an awful lot of money to some people around here. Beauregard Barker, for instance. But then, I forgot. You don’t take your orders straight from Beau Barker. Your deal was with Mr. D’Angelo.” She watched him squirm under her cold gaze.