‘Call me Lu,’ Boone said, lounging forward. ‘I want to see him and you. Did he give you a good lay last night, baby?’
Sitting at his desk, listening to this conversation, Ken turned cold and sick with panic, then with an effort, he pulled himself together. Moving swiftly, he opened a desk drawer, switched on the tape recorder he used when talking to clients, then half closed the drawer. He got to his feet and walked to the door.
‘Here is Mr. Brandon,’ Karen said. She turned and looked at Ken. ‘This is Lu. He wants to talk to us.’
‘Hi, bud!’ Lu said, and grinned. ‘Did she give out last night?’
Ken said huskily, ‘I don’t know what you are talking about. What do you want?’
‘Don’t feed me that crap,’ Lu said, his voice toughening. ‘You know. What do I want? Let’s all sit down and talk.’
Ken moved back into his office and Lu followed him.
Karen remained at the doorway.
Lu looked around.
‘Not much of a dump, but I like your home, bud... real nice.’ He sat down on one of the upright chairs. ‘Come in, baby. Let’s all be sociable.’
Ken moved around his desk and sat down. Karen, looking relaxed, moved into the office and leaned against a filing cabinet.
‘Is this a hold-up?’ she asked. ‘Or are you high?’
‘Don’t act too smart, baby,’ Lu said. ‘I know all about you. I’ve been asking around. I know all about you, bud.’ He grinned at Ken, then at Karen. ‘Last night, a hooker got killed right by your love nest, baby. I was looking for Paddler’s Creek, and you two directed me. I have a good memory for faces. I know you two didn’t kill this hooker, but I do know you were screwing in that cabin. This morning the fuzz talked to me. I don’t dig the heat. It seems the fink who killed this hooker got blood all over his clothes so the fuzz went through my things. I don’t dig that either. They can’t pin the killing on me, so they are looking elsewhere. They wanted to know if I had seen anyone at the time of the killing as I was walking to the camp.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t give information to the fuzz. I told them I hadn’t seen anyone.’ Again he grinned. ‘I guess I did you two a big favour. If I had told them I had seen you, you would have them around you like flies, and the word would have got out that you two had been screwing. I didn’t tell them, so you owe me for a favour.’ He paused, looking first at Karen and then at Ken. ‘I do something for you, you do something for me... right?’
Neither Karen nor Ken said anything.
‘That’s the way I see it,’ Lu said, after a long pause. ‘I’ve been bumming around, living rough, for some time. I’m changing my lifestyle. I want money. Now you, bud, have a nice wife. I know all about her, working for this guy who fixes abortions. You, baby, have a rich pa. I know all about him. I guess between us three, we can work out a deal that would put me on easy street, and save you two problems. You with me so far?’
So it was to be blackmail, Ken thought. He glanced down at the half open drawer. He could see the spools of the recorder revolving and was thankful he had had the presence of mind to have switched on the recorder. He looked at Karen who appeared to be completely relaxed.
She shrugged.
‘Well now,’ Lu went on, ‘I decided I wouldn’t talk to the fuzz. Now, just suppose, you two tell me to jump in a lake? Maybe, I told myself, you two could be dopey enough not to want to return favour for favour. You two have a lot to lose, so here’s my proposition. Give me ten thousand dollars and I leave the scene. No problems for you: no problems for me. Do we have a deal?’
‘You get no money from us, you stinking creep!’ Karen said before Ken could say anything.
‘Sure I reckoned you would act stupid. So okay, I put on the pressure.’ He took from his shirt pocket two slips of paper. ‘What do you think of this?’ He leaned forward and put one of the slips on Ken’s desk, then getting to his feet, he gave Karen the other slip.
Ken read what was written on his slip.
Mrs. Brandon,
Ask your husband what he was doing on the night of the 22nd with Karen Sternwood in her cabin at Paddler’s Creek.
From a well-wisher who doesn’t believe in adultery.
Karen’s slip read:
Mr. Jefferson Sternwood,
Ask your daughter what she was doing on the night of the 22nd with your employee, Ken Brandon in her cabin at Paddler’s Creek.
From a well-wisher who doesn’t believe in adultery.
He began to drift to the door.
‘I think you two will want to talk this over together,’ he said. ‘I’ll contact you in three days. Have the money here: ten thousand bucks. If you are stupid, I mail the letters.’ He grinned, nodded, then walked away.
Neither Ken nor Karen moved until they heard the front door slam. Then Ken, white faced, pressed the stop button on the recorder.
‘It’s his word against ours,’ Karen said. ‘You’ve recorded what he said?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay. We’ll fix this creep. Give me the tape and I’ll go to the police.’
‘What are you saying?’ Ken exclaimed. ‘They’ll charge him with blackmail, and he will talk. You and I will become Miss X and Mr. X, but everyone will know!’
Karen cocked her head on one side as she stared at him.
‘Are you saying we are going to pay this creep ten thousand dollars?’
‘I haven’t ten thousand dollars!’
‘Nor have I, so we don’t pay him. Let him send the letters! My drag of a father will flip his lid, but he’s always flipping his lid. I can handle him. He won’t want to believe you screwed me, so I can convince him.’ She looked at her watch. ‘I’m late for my date. You fix your end. Your wife won’t want to believe this either, will she? So it’s up to you to convince her. See you tomorrow,’ and with a wave of her hand, she left him.
Convince Betty? Ken thought. That would mean lying to her. When she got the letter, she would show it to him. Ken knew he could never lie convincingly to her. He had never lied to her in their four years of happy marriage.
He began to pace around his desk. What a mad fool he had been! Remorse, panic, self-disgust tore at him. Then he pulled himself together. What was done, was done! There was only one decent thing to do. He must tell her before the letter arrived. He must hope that her love for him would survive the shock. But suppose it didn’t? Suppose she was so shocked, her love for him died? He couldn’t bear to think of that possibility. He tried to assure himself that they were too close, but he did realize that their future relationship might never be the same. The thought sickened him, but whatever happened, he told himself, he must tell her: rather than lie to her.
He looked at his watch. The time was 18.30. She would be home now. He would go home at once and tell her.
He locked the office, got in his car and edged into the home-going traffic. The drive back to his house seemed endless. It was stop-start all the way.
Sitting in the air conditioned car, he tried to think what he would say to her: how best to soften his confession? What words did a man use to tell his wife that he had been unfaithful to her?
He was still undecided when he drove into his garage. Betty’s car was there.
Bracing himself, he walked into the lobby.
‘Ken?’ Betty appeared in the doorway of their bedroom. ‘Oh, darling! I’m so glad you are back! I was just going to call you.’
He could see she was pale and her eyes anxious.
God! he thought. Has that creep been to see her? His heart began to hammer.
‘What is it, honey? Something wrong?’
‘Mother’s just called. Dad has had a heart attack. She wants me.’