Time passed. How much, Glory was beyond knowing. The sky outside the room turned from black to gray to blue-white. Early morning stirred over the Morton Motor Lodge. The chambermaids started on their rounds of the cabins.
The front door opened, splashing Glory with sunlight. She didn’t look up. The maid studied her a moment, puzzled at this nude figure huddling so oddly in a corner of the room. Then her eyes strayed to the open bathroom door and she screamed.
Still Glory didn’t move. The scream echoed to the sound of footsteps racing toward the main building. A faint hubbub grew in volume and then Angus Morton materialized in the doorway. He studied the scene for a long moment.
“Miss Dawes,” he said.
Glory didn’t answer, didn’t even seem to have heard him speak her name.
Morton turned to the handyman beside him. “Stay out here an’ see no one else comes in,” he instructed him. He stepped through the doorway and shut the door behind him.
“Miss Dawes,” he said again. “What’s happened here?”
Glory’s eyes stayed shut. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. She seemed unaware of anyone’s presence.
Morton’s mind was racing. On the face of it, it sure looked like this New York chick had done in Wilma Malden. That’s how it looked to Angus and that’s how he knew it would look to others, the law included. But Angus knew that there was another possibility. Vito D’Angelo! If the syndicate had decided Wilma was dangerous, Vito might have had to kill her. If he had, Angus was sure Vito would have been very careful to cover his tracks. That brought it back to where it was before. No matter who killed Wilma, the Dawes babe was still the logical one to pay the piper. Yep, she wasn’t just number one suspect, she was as good as hanged.
Unless—Angus’s mind raced ahead. This gir1’s father was a real rich Easterner. What might it be worth to him to have his daughter cleared of murder’? Whether she’d done it or not wasn’t the point. If Angus worked fast, he might be able to arrange things so she was off the hook. Maybe even get her out of here without anybody seeing her.
The chambermaid and the handyman were the only ones who had seen her so far. The maid didn’t know who she was and she’d been too hysterical to have gotten a really good look at her face. And the way she was sitting, Angus knew the handyman wouldn’t have seen her features.
He could slip her out the back window, into her car and down the back road before anybody identified her. He could say that the girl who was here had pulled a gun on him and made her escape. He could claim he’d never seen her before and didn’t know who she was.
But, he remembered, there were others who knew that Glory Dawes had been meeting Wilma at his motel. Not those who’d been at that meeting at Barker’s. Beau hadn’t mentioned the motel to them. They could only guess that the girl might have been Glory Dawes and if Angus denied it, they’d have to accept his word. But Beau himself knew. And so did that fellow Corrigan. What about them?
Well, Angus reckoned, if he could make some kind of deal with Dawes to protect his daughter, he’d just have to cut Barker in. Beau would go along with anything if the price was right. And as for Corrigan, he was Dawes’s’boy anyway. Angus figured Dawes should be able to handle him.
It was worth a try. The thing to do was to call Dawes and, if he agreed to pay enough to put the plan into effect. If he balked, it was time enough to call the sheriff.
Angus walked over to the telephone and began to dial. He got information, obtained the number of the Dawes home, hung up briefly, then picked up the receiver again and began to dial the number. Throughout, his eyes stayed glued to Glory Dawes.
He was closer to her now, and despite the situation and the way his mind was working, Angus couldn’t keep from ogling the girl’s nudity. He still couldn’t see her face clearly, but her lush body was exposed in detail to his gaze. His eyes watered with longing as they caressed her creamy bosom and slowly traveled up the length of her legs to the mound of blonde tendrils rippling ever so slightly in the morning breeze coming through the window.
“Dawes residence.” It was Harvey Henshaw’s voice sounding in Angus’s ear.
“This here’s Angus Morton, Harv. Lemme speak to Mr. Dawes. It’s important.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Dawes isn’t at home.”
“Where is he?’
“I believe he’s gone to the factory for an early morning meeting with Luke Partridge. Luke’s on the night shift this week and I think Mr. Dawes wanted to catch him and talk to him before he left. Something about the new union, I’d imagine.”
“Skip the gossip, Harv. I don’t have time. Gimme the factory number and I’ll call him there.”
Harvey did as asked and Angus hung up and dialed again. When he got the factory switchboard, he asked for Mr. Dawes and was told he hadn’t arrived yet. “Mr. Corrigan, his assistant just came in though,” the operator informed him. “Will you speak to him?”
“No. . . .Wait! Yes. I’ll talk to him.” Time was growing short and Angus realized that if he were going to cash in on what had happened he’d have to decide quickly. Maybe Corrigan could commit Dawes to some sort of financial arrangement. Hell, he’d been engaged to the girl himself once, hadn’t he? He oughta be able to come through for the old man and his daughter in a pinch like this.
Angus told Don what had happened quickly and teresely. “I’ll get hold of Mr. Dawes and we’ll be right out there,” Don answered when Angus had finished.
“Hold on. You ain’t with it, Mr. Corrigan. See, I called Mr. Dawes first thing. I ain’t called the sheriff yet.”
“Then call him. What are you waiting for?”
“I figger as how maybe Mr. Dawes might wanna protect his daughter. Way things look now, she could hang for this.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“This here’s murder, Mr. Corrigan. That ain’t ridiculous.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“l could get her outa here ’fore anybody finds out she’s mixed up in it. Chances are she’d be kept outa it altogether—that is if the price was right.”
“You mean you want Mr. Dawes to pay you?”
“You got it, Mr. Corrigan. Whatta you think it’s worth to him to keep his only child offa the gallows?”
“Not a cent!” Don told him through clenched teeth. “Glory didn’t kill that girl. She may be a lot of things, but she’s no murderess. So you just take your filthy proposition and— You’d better call the sheriff right away, Mr. Morton. Because if you don’t, I will!”
The phone clicked in Morton’s ear. He sighed. It hadn’t worked. He followed Don’s advice and called the sheriff.
“I’ll be right out, Angus. Don’t let nobody in till I get over there,” the sheriff told him.
Angus said he wouldn’t, but the quick move of events broke his promise for him. After the sheriff hung up, Angus sat down across from Glory, making sure to pick a chair which gave him a clear view of her charms, and settled back to ogle her. He watched the slow rise and fall of her large breasts. What would happen, he wondered, if he walked over to her and fondled them? The daze she was in, he decided, she probably wouldn’t even notice. Why, if he had time, he could probably throw her a fuck right there and she’d never even know what was happening.
The thought made him itchy. He half-rose, drawn by her naked body, intending to steal a caress. But before he was all the way to his feet, the idea was pushed out of his mind by a commotion on the front porch. Before he could look to see what it was, the front door burst open and Vito D’Angelo entered. Behind him, Angus could see the figure of the handyman he’d stationed as guard. The figure was doubled over, clutching at its groin.