She found her heart was thumping and she was breathing fast.
Now, she thought, the big seduction scene! She giggled, feeling lust move through her. She went to the door and called, “Jim! I can’t get my suitcase open. Come up, please, and fix it for me.” She moved to the big bed and waited. She had her back to the sunlit window and knew the light was shining through her flimsy wrap. No man, she told herself, could resist this temptation, let alone an ape like Brown.
Brown appeared in the doorway, his blunt features expressionless.
“Sorry to bother you, Jim. I’m an idiot with locks,” Sheila said, giving her most seductive smile.
“Is that right?” Brown said, still remaining in the doorway. She was aware he was eyeing her near naked body.
She felt moisture gathering in her loins.
As he still remained motionless, she said impatiently, her voice a little shrill, “We haven’t much time. Don’t just stand there!” She opened her wrap so he could see her body. “Come to me!”
“You deaf or something? Didn’t you hear I told Perry if he played straight with me, I’d play straight with him?” Brown said. “Are you a goddamn dope? Now, I’ll tell you something. To me, you are no better than the worst hooker I’ve ever screwed. You are, to me, like the mess a dog leaves on the sidewalk. Even if I hadn’t told Perry I wouldn’t touch you, I wouldn’t touch you now!” Turning, he moved to the head of the stairs, slamming the door behind him.
Perry Weston drove down Rockville’s main street and pulled up outside the bank. The time was now 3:00. There were few people on the street. Most of the citizens had done their shopping, and he was thankful that all the old folks were sitting in the shade of the trees, dozing or boring each other with small talk. He entered the bank which was deserted except for an elderly woman, seated behind the counter, making entries in a ledger. She looked up, stared, then smiled. “It’s Mr Weston, isn’t it?”
“That’s right, Mr Allsop around?”
“Why, of course.” She slid her bulk off the stool. “I’ll get him, Mr Weston.”
Fred Allsop, the manager of the bank, a small, thin man in his late fifties, came bustling out of his office. “Why, Mr Weston! What a pleasure!” They shook hands “You are here for a vacation?”
Perry was continually thinking of Sheila. Could he trust that ape of a man? He must get back as quickly as he could.
“Well, no. I’m on a trip, Mr Allsop. I need money. I’m in a hurry.”
“Mr Weston, we are here for service. We haven’t seen you for a long time. What can I do?”
“I want ten thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills.”
Allsop blinked. “Well, you haven’t that amount in your account, Mr Weston. That’s quite a sum.”
With an effort, Perry controlled his impatience.
“I need the money, Mr Allsop,” he said, his voice sharp. “If you want, call my New York bank. I’m in a hurry!”
Startled by the bark in Perry’s voice, Allsop said hurriedly, “I’ll arrange it, Mr Weston. Ten thousand in one hundred dollar bills?”
“That’s what I said. I have some shopping to do. I’ll be back in a quarter of an hour. Okay?”
“Yes, Mr Weston.”
These small time bankers! Perry thought as he left the bank and crossed over to the self-service store. As he entered, Sheriff Ross moved across the street from his office and walked into the bank.
“Fred,” he said. “What did Mr Weston want?”
Allsop hesitated. “Well, Jeff, maybe it’s not your business, but if you want to know, he’s asking for ten thousand dollars in one hundred dollar bills.”
“Can you stall?”
“I told him I’d fix it. He was most insistent. What’s going on?”
“Never mind, Fred. Give him the money,” and leaving Allsop staring in bewilderment, Ross, worried, went across the street and leaned against the wooden rail beside the self-service store.
Perry bought a dozen eggs, two lettuces and a sack of onions. As he came out into the steamy sun he saw Ross. His heart skipped a beat as Ross came over with an outstretched hand.
“Shopping, huh?” Ross said. “Nice to see you around Mr Weston.”
Perry shook and said, “Yeah. It’s great to be back. Nice to see you.” And then, remembering Brown’s orders to find out what the pressure was, containing his impatience to return to the fishing lodge, he went on, “Got a little business with the bank. Suppose we have a beer together, Jeff?”
“Sure. I’ll be over at Tom’s bar,” Ross said, and nodding, he started down the street.
Perry put his purchases in the jeep and then entered the bank.
“All ready for you, Mr Weston,” Allsop said. “Just here.” Perry signed the form and picked up the envelope.
“Many thanks. Your service is terrific.” He shook hands, then, leaving the bank, he locked the envelope away in the jeep, then walked down the street to Tom’s bar.
This was a bar which he had frequented a number of times when he had first moved into the fishing lodge. The fat, jovial looking barman beamed at him as he entered. “Mr Weston! My pleasure!”
“Nice to see you again, Tom,” Perry said and shook hands. He looked around. There were only a few people sitting at tables at this hour, but all recognized him, touched their hats, nodding a welcome.
Perry saw Sheriff Ross. “Two beers, Tom,” Perry said and crossed the room, forcing a smile for each man who was giving him a welcome. He sat by Ross’s side.
Ross eyed him. He could see Perry was tense.
“I can’t stay long,” Perry said as Tom brought the beers. “I have my wife with me. I don’t want to leave her too long alone.”
“I guess.” Ross sipped his beer. “All okay at the lodge?”
“No problems.” Perry stared at the beer in his glass. No problems? What an understatement!
“Mary was wondering if you need her, Mr Weston,” Ross said. “As soon as the road dries out, she could come down and clean up for you.”
“No, thanks. My wife can handle it. Give Mary my love.”
“Sure will.” Ross nodded. “You writing a movie?”
“Yep.” Perry forced himself to sound casual. “This killer. He gave me an idea. Any news of him? Has he been caught?”
“No. There’s a big manhunt on for him.” Ross leaned back in his chair. “The police believe he is now somewhere in Miami.”
“Do you think he’ll get away?”
“He’ll give us a run for our money, Mr Weston, but sooner or later, we’ll catch up with him.”
“I guess so.” Perry sipped his beer. He desperately wanted to confide in this big, calm looking man, but he knew that if there was police action he and now Sheila would be the first to die.
“I’m working on this idea, Jeff. It was you coming to my place checking to see if this killer was hiding in one of the fishing lodges that sparked me off.”
“Is that right, Mr Weston?” Ross remained relaxed in expression, but mentally very alert. “I guess that happens to men with your imagination.”
“When you and your deputy left, I thought what would happen if this man was hiding in my place. From what you told me he is a nut-case and very dangerous. I tried to imagine how I would react if he appeared with a gun.” Perry paused to sip his beer, then forced a laugh. “It began to intrigue me.”
“Sure. I see that. What did you imagine, Mr Weston?”
Perry hesitated. Was he talking too much? He knew Ross was no fool, but what he had said so far must be acceptable without causing Ross to call out the Nation Guard.