79 Park Avenue (32 page)

A painful, taunting smile came to her Ups. "What difference does it make? There's been a lot of guys."

He hit her again. Her head spun to one side and a soft moan escaped her lips. Blood trickled from the comer of her mouth.

"Whore!"

Slowly she raised her eyes to his face. "I never said you could call me by my first nemie."

He whipped his hand back across her face. She slid across the bed and off onto the floor, where she lay huddled in a small heap. He walked aroimd the bed and looked down at her. She didn't move.

He reached out with his foot and roughly pushed her over. She sprawled out on the rug, her eyes staring up at him without emotion. That was the worst thing of all to him. No expression at all. Not even hatred.

"You're not goin' anywhere," he said, "until I get damn good and ready to kick you out."

"It's Mike's baby," she said dully.

"I don't care," he said heavily. "I don't care whose it is. You're mine. That's all I care about."

Chapter 10

SHE was having coffee when he came down for breakfast. His eyes felt heavy and burning. He hadn't slept all night. Silently he sat down at the table. *'Moming," he gro\Vled.

She smiled. "Good morning." She got up and went into the kitchen. A few seconds later she reappeared with a tray of toast and a fresh pot of coffee.

He looked up in surprise. "Where's Bunny?" Bunny was the maid.

"I sent her away with Michelle," she answered. "I. thought it'd be better if they went up to Arrowhead for a while. The baby looked peaked."

He glanced up at her in surprise. Her face was blank. She knew. He could tell that. "Good idea," he said. "Tom go with them, too?"

"No," she said. "He didn't want to."

She poured some coffee into his cup. He sipped it quickly. He needed something to straighten him out. He

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was tired from tossing and turning all night. Slowly he bit into the toast. It had no taste. He chewed anyway.

"Your watchdogs are waiting in a car outside," she said.

Again surprise ran through him. There was very Uttle she missed. A feeling of bravado ran through his veins. "Joker's not going to get away with this," he said.

She didn't speak.

"You heard me," he said almost hysterically. "Joker can't do anything."

"I heard you," she said softly. "But did Joker?"

He stood up angrily. "I've gone too far to let them push me around."

She didn't speak.

He stared at her for a moment, then left the room. A few minutes later he came back with a gun in his hand It was an automatic. Quickly he checked the clip, and dropped it in his jacket pocket. He sat down at the table again and picked up his cofifee cup. His hands were trembling, and the coffee spilled.

"Give me the gun, Ross," she said quietly.

He frowned at her. "What for?"

"You don't know anything about them," she said. "And you're so jumpy, you might hurt somebody who's got nothing to do with you."

The gun slid across the table, and she dropped it into a drawer "I feel better this way," she said.

"Maybe you ought to go up to Arrowhead, too," he said.

"Not me." She smiled. "It's lousy for my sinuses. I told you that a thousand times."

"You might get hurt," he said.

"I can fall down the stairs, too," she answered

He didn't speak, nor did he look at her. He would never

understand her. He put down his cup. "Gotta get goin'." She got to her feet. "I'll be waitin' for you, Ross." He looked up at her gratefully. "Thanks, Marja," he

said almost humbly.

He climbed into the car and sat between the two men.

"What's the latest word?" he asked as the car moved out

into the street.

"I spoke to Pete a half-hour ago," one of them said.

"Martin hasn't budged out of his hotel room since one this

morning."

"Good," he said in a satisfied voice. "Let's go get him."

A tall heavy-bearded man came toward the car as Ross got up. "He's still up there," the man whispered. "I been here all night."

"Thanks, Pete."

"Got the pass key and bribed the freight-elevator boy to go get some coffee," the man continued.

Ross looked at him. "You think of everything."

The tall man's face was impassive. "I do what I'm paid for."

Ross nodded to the two men in the car. Silently they got out and went into the building. Ross could feel his heart pounding inside him. This was it. The big one. He couldn't afford to miss this time. If he did, he was finished.

They walked down a long gray-painted cement-block corridor in the basement of the hotel. Before a door they stopped and Pete pressed a button. The door opened, revealing an elevator. Quickly the men stepped into it.

Pete pressed a button and the door closed. The elevator began to rise. SUently they watched the indicator flash the numbers of the floors. At five the car stopped and the door opened.

"You stay here and hold the car," Pete said to one of the men.

The man nodded and the others walked down the haU. Pete studied the doors. At last he nodded. Quickly Ross looked up and down the corridor. It was empty.

Pete slipped a pohce positive out of his pocket. With his left hand he quickly screwed a silencer on the muzzle. He handed the key to Ross.

Ross looked down at it. It shone brightly in his palm. He took a deep breath. He could feel the sweat trickling down his face and knew that Pete was watching him closely. "Ready?" he whispered hoarsely.

Pete nodded.

Ross put the key in the lock. It seemed to make a loud ratcheting sound as it turned. Quickly he pushed the door open and Pete leaped into the room. Ross followed, half pushed through the door by the man behind him.

Pete cursed softly and ran through to another room. Ross ran after him, only to hear Pete break into a loud string of curses. "What is it?" Ross called as he reached the other door.

He knew the answer as soon as he stepped into the other room. The sweat began to run down his face again. He stared stupidly at Pete. "What the hell went wrong?" he asked.

Pete shook his head. "I dunno."

Ross stared around the room again. It was clean. The room was empty. Joker had gone.

The drone of the engines made Joker drowsy. They always made him drowsy. He could never decide whether it was the sound of the engines or the dramamine he took

to keep from being plane-sick that did it, but he usually spent his trips sleeping. He closed his eyes.

Her face jumped in front of his lids, and he stirred uncomfortably. He wasn't like that with dames. He remembered how she had looked at him a long time ago when she was a kid. She had been too young then. Or had he been a fool? She had never been too young!

Then there was the time she got out of the correctional school. He had missed her by only a few minutes. He took a deep breath. It would not be long now. His turn was coming.

Her kid bothered him, though. If it wasn't Ross's kid, that meant there was someone else. He wondered who it could be. She was no dope. Before he got on the plane he had heard that she'd sent the kid up to Arrowhead at five in the morning.

A half-smile came to his hps That was one of the things he liked about her. She was smart If Ross had had only half her brains he wouldn't be in the mess he was in.

'

Chapter 11

ALMOST a month had passed since Joker had gone, and Ross was beginning to feel reassured. He felt he had been right: they couldn't do anything to him, he was too much in the public eye. Sooner or later they would have to call him and agree to go along on his basis.

He came into the house, a whistle on his lips. Maryann, waiting in the foyer, looked surprised. It was so complete a change from his nervousness of the past few weeks. She looked at the open doorway behind him. There was no one there.

*'Where are your watchdogs?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "I sent 'em away. I got tired of them hanging around."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Yuh think it*s vdse?"

He walked into the living-room and poured himself a drink. "Joker knows when he's licked. They don't dare do anything."

She watched him silently.

He threw the drink down his throat. The whisky burned slightly and warmed him. The evenings were getting chilly. "Tomorrow we'll go up to Arrowhead, pick up the baby, and go down to Vegas for a little vacation," he said.

She shook her head. 'T think we ought to wait a little longer."

"Fm tired of hangin' around," he said. 'T don't have to be afraid. We're going tomorrow."

"I'll go see if Tom's got dinner ready," she said, leaving the room.

He watched her go, then poured himself another drink. He would never imderstand her. If she was afraid, why did she stay with him? There was nothing to keep her here. They weren't married. He wouldn't have blamed her if she had gone away. He sipped his drink slowly. Maybe someday he would know. Maybe someday he would cross the barrier of understanding that lay between them.

She came back into the room. "Dinner's ready," she said.

He stood there for a moment. Suddenly he felt an understanding come into him. He crossed the room and took her hand. "Marja," he said gently, "let's get married tomorrow. We'll make it a real honeymoon."

She looked up into his eyes. For some reason she could feel an ache steal inside her. "Is it what you really want, Ross?"

He nodded. "I know that now. I need you. If s not like it used to be."

She looked down at her hand. His strong brown fingers gripped it tightly. She knew what he meant. Something about him had changed. It was as if the Ross whom she had always known had suddenly grown up. She looked into his eyes, and for the first time she foimd nakedness and

loneliness there. She felt the muscles in her throat tighten. *'Okay, Ross," she whispered. "We'll be married tomorrow."

He pulled her close to him and kissed her. "You won't be sorry," he promised.

At dinner he was gay and filled with plans, and told Tom to open a bottle of champagne. His excitement and happiness reached out to her and she began to respond to it

"We'U build a house," he said.

She laughed. "What's the matter with this one?"

"I want one for ourselves. With our ideas," he said. "Besides, we can't buy this one. The owner won't sell. He'll only rent."

"We can wait a little while," she said.

He shook his head. "Uh-uh. We'll do it now. I got my eye on some property in the hills. An acre and a half. I want everything to be right."

She assumed a demure expression. "You're the boss."

He put down his coffee cup, got to his feet, and came around to where she sat. "I want you to be happy. That's the only thing that is important now."

She took his hand. "I wiU be, Ross."

The clock chimed ten as they walked into the living-room. He sprawled on the couch and took out a cigarette. "I feel good," he said. "I feel that everything is goin' to be great.'*

She struck a match and held it for him. "It will be great, Ross. All we gotta do is try and make it so."

"We will," he said. He pulled her down on the couch beside him and kissed her cheek. "I never told you how great I think you are, did I, baby?" he whispered.

She shook her head.

He pulled her head against his chest. "I love yoxL You know that, don't you? I guess I always loved you, but I never really knew it I thought it would make me less to admit it."

She didn't answer.

"I remember how I used to feel when I looked at you," he said. "I could almost have bust."

She grinned. "You don't have to be so nice, Ross," she teased. "I already said yes."

He looked down at her, a smile on his lips. "I mean it," he said, his voice serious. "There are so many things I wanted to tell you and never did, it would take me a whole lifetime to remember them all."

A gentle expression came into her eyes. Impulsively she placed her Ups against his cheek. "Thank you, Ross," she whispered.

He cleared his throat with embarrassment. He wasn't used to having her say thank you to him. He sat up. "How about some television?" he asked. "We might as well practice up on our marital behavior.'*

She smiled. "Okay."

He crossed the room, turned on the set, and adjusted the dials. "How's the picture?" he called over his shoulder.

"Pretty good," she said, watching the wavering figures on the screen.

"Can't do any better," he said, coming back to the couch. "If s a kine."

"I'm not complainin'," she said.

He sat down beside her and took her hand. Silently they watched the comedian on the screen. He wasn't very funny, but he worked very hard. Two weeks ago this show had been done live in New York; the coast re-broadcast was on film. On film it lacked spontaneity.

She studied Ross as he looked at the screen. His black hair fell across his forehead. His eyes were no longer the hard, metallic blue of old; they were soft and somehow warmer. She smiled to herself. He had been a long time in growing up.

The telephone began to ring deep within the house. He paid no attention to it. Abruptly it stopped ringing and she heard Tom's soft voice, but couldn't understand his words. She turned her attention back to the screen.

"Miz Drego," Tom's voice came from the foyer entrance.

She looked up. "Yes?"

"They's a call for you, ma'am," the old man said.

She got to her feet. Ross looked up at her. "Hurry back, baby," he said, smiling.

Impulsively she kissed his forehead. "I will, honey."

She crossed the foyer into the small library and picked up the telephone. "Hello," she said iato the mouthpiece.

There was no answer. Just a faint hollow sound on the wire.

An icy chill suddenly ran through her. "Hello, hello,'* she said.

A whisper with an echo of a familiar sound came through the receiver. "Marja?"

"Yes," she said. "Who is this?"

"Marja?" the voice repeated as if she hadn't spoken.

Her fingers turned white under the pressure of her grip on the phone. She knew the voice. She knew why she had been called to the phone.