CHAPTER 5
John Wilberforce nodded slightly in response to the wave of the night bank guard as he let himself into the building. The tall banker walked quickly to his office and unlocked the door. After turning on the lights and closing the door, he immediately turned them off again and opened the door a crack to check on the guard. The man checked the door Wilberforce had used then strolled out of sight. Removing his shoes to lessen the noise he would make on the highly polished tile floor, Wilberforce slipped out of the office and made his noiseless way to the safety deposit box area.
Once inside the vault that held the boxes, he pulled a pocket flashlight and a small piece of paper from his suitcoat and scanned the names and numbers written there. Finding the one he wanted, the banker located the box and used two flat keys to open the box. Inside were some ancient Army decorations, a few papers and deeds, a handsome though ancient pocket watch, and a parcel wrapped in brown paper. He split the paper on the top open and looked inside. He saw a fifty-dollar bill on top. There were more underneath. He smiled.
He put the packet into his coat pocket and returned the deposit box to its place. Again, he checked for the guard before he left the vault and returned to his office. There was a briefcase beside the desk. Into it went the money packet. He slipped his feet into his shoes, took a deep breath and went back to the door. Trying his level best to appear nonchalant, Wilberforce opened the door, switched off the light, and closed the door behind him. The sounds of his own footfalls seemed deafening to him as he crossed the foyer. The guard appeared again.
“Evening, Mr. Wilberforce,” said the guard, in a noticeable East Coast accent. “Are my Yankees going to take care of your Dodgers in the Series again?”
The banker forced a slight smile at the guard but did not stop walking.
“You’re the baseball expert here, George.”
“Oh, I know your boys won it last year,” continued the guard, stepping lively to keep up with Wilberforce. “That lucky catch Amoros made on Berra was the whole thing. But this year it’ll be more like usual.”
“If you say so, George.”
Wilberforce reached for the doorknob, but George’s hand was there first. The banker took in a sharp breath, as the guard cagily looked him over.
“You want to make a bet on it?” asked the guard.
Wilberforce let out the breath and broke into a wide smile. He reached into his pocket.
“Sure, George, sure. Ten?” He pressed the bill into the guard’s hand. “And to show you I trust you, I’ll let you hold it.”
The surprised George regarded the bill as the banker opened the door.
“Well, that’s mighty sporting of you, Mr. Wilberforce.” He grabbed the doorknob to keep it from closing. “Oh, did you find what you needed?”
Wilberforce grinned again. He lifted the briefcase slightly.
“Oh, yes, George. I found just what I needed.”
As he walked away from the bank, Wilberforce found that, despite his amusement at the guard’s question, his heart was racing. He had left a drink practically untouched on the bar. Maybe one more for the road was what he needed.
Copper Ryder struggled desperately. She could not see where Marie had stopped the car, but when the woman had gotten out Copper had realized that this might be her best and only chance to get free. She had tried to slip the ropes around her wrists in both directions, but failed. Though she could not reach very far, the girl tried to feel around for anything that she might be able to use to cut her bonds. But the tiny back seat was too low to reach under and there was nothing on the floor.
They had passed some lights, which Copper guessed was a lighted sign, just before Marie had stopped. The illumination seemed to be blocked by something but was they were obviously still quite close. Despite the gag in her mouth and the thorough taping job over her lips, Copper tried screaming for help. There was no response. The came a kind of crunching sound, slow and careful like a woman in high-heeled shoes walking on gravel. The door of the car opened and Marie peered in.
“Have a nice ride?” she smirked. “Come on. Let’s get you inside.”
She moved the front seat forward, reached in, grasped Copper by the legs, and pulled her none too gently toward the door. The girl mewed in alarm and pain as she scraped along the car floor, but it was a short trip. Marie raised her to her bare feet, and Copper felt a cool wind over her mostly bare skin.
They were at a motel of some kind. The sign, lights, and office were on the other side of a row of rooms. There were no cars in front of any of the rooms on this side of the motel, and all the room windows were dark. As far as Copper could see, this row of units faced nothing but sand and sagebrush.
“It’s a nice private place, isn’t it?” asked Marie, noting Copper’s scrutiny of the situation. “This is where Johnny and I go when we want to get away from his adoring wife. Can’t be seen from the highway, and for ten bucks, the desk clerk has never seen or heard of you. Let’s go inside, Miss Ryder.”
She grabbed the girl by the arm and some of the ropes around her upper torso and forced her to hop toward the door. On the first two hops the prisoner’s feet landed on bare dirt with a few painful stones, but after that there was a skirt of paving in front of the door. Marie opened the door with her key and guided the helpless girl inside. When the door was closed, she turned on the lights to reveal a cheaply furnished room: two small beds, a chair, a television set, and a window air conditioner. The room curtains were drawn. Copper was pushed near to one of the beds. Marie gave her a shove and laughed as the girl fell onto the bed with a gagged shriek. The curvaceous blonde stood over her.
“You might as well get comfortable, kid. You’re going to be here for a while. At least until I get the money and decide what to do with you.”
Copper turned away. Marie regarded her captive with amusement.
“You’re quite a sight right now. Maybe I should clean you up a little.”
The tying of her legs and being dragged out of the car had ruined Copper’s nylons. Her bra straps had fallen off her shoulders, and there was a smudge of dirt on her face. Marie went to the bathroom and returned with dampened a washcloth. With surprising tenderness, Marie carefully wiped Copper’s face.
“This ought to make things a little better.”
When the girl’s face was cleaned, Marie set down the cloth and looked her over again.
“Those stockings have got to go,” she murmured. “And without them, you won’t need the garterbelt. And that bra….”
She rolled Copper over and unfastened the hooks at the back. From her purse, Marie took a tiny pair of nail scissors and snipped through the shoulder straps of the girl’s bra. Though it was caught under the loops of rope that circled Copper’s body, Marie managed to get it off. Copper looked down wide-eyed as her breasts were freed.
“Nice set you got there,” Marie noted with a little smile. “Those are the kind that Johnny likes.” She put her hands under her own breasts. “A lot like mine.”
Copper’s eyes grew even wider. She shook her head and mewed a protest into the gag.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not doing this because Johnny’s coming to play with us. If I know Johnny, he’s double-crossing me right now, and heading out with the money.”
She smiled a little wider.
“He’s really going to be surprised.”
As Copper pondered the meaning of her last remark, Marie unhooked the girl’s stockings and reached for the garterbelt. She slid it down the captive’s legs.
Sherry Johnson drove past the Wilberforce home and parked the stolen blue sedan a few houses down the street. She had only been to the house a couple times with her boss for business reasons. His car was not parked there but another car, which looked like Dora Wilberforce’s, was in the driveway. She checked up and down the street. A man was walking his dog in the next block, but he was more than a hundred yards distant and headed away from her. There was no one else about. The street was not well lighted around her, and Sherry was thankful that the Kermit City Council’s plan to put in more streetlights had not started yet. She tucked her pistol into her belt and got out of the car.
Dora Wilberforce emerged from the shower and began drying herself with a towel. She was a rather tall woman, though she appeared less so beside her husband, with an excellent figure for a woman just over forty. The face was still attractive, despite features that were a bit on the sharp side and suggested watchfulness or even suspicion. After almost twenty years of marriage to John Wilberforce it was impossible to say whether this expression was a natural one or had been acquired in constant vigilance over her husband’s roving eye. Her hair, which was of one of those indeterminate shades between dark blond and light brown and with no traces of gray, had not been washed on this occasion. It hung, neatly cut, about half way down her neck, a small concession to age. When she put her feet in turn on the tub rail to dry her legs with the towel, the display of shapely limb would have been thoroughly enjoyed by most men.
Yet she was the unhappy wife of a successful banker, doomed to spend mornings in the beauty shop, afternoons at club meetings or bridge games, and too many evenings wondering where her husband was. She knew that John had been smitten with Sherry Johnson, but her relief at Sherry’s arrest was short-lived when she sensed the same feelings for his new secretary, Marie. On her way home from bridge this afternoon she had noticed some kind of commotion in the apartments where Marie lived. There had been police cars and an ambulance there. She was barely able to stifle the fantasy that Marie had been murdered. She had seen Sherry convicted this morning, and with Marie out of the way as well….
Dora shook her head, bringing herself back to reality. She wrapped the towel around her sarong-style and headed toward their bedroom.
She had just reached the bedroom doorway when there was a noise behind her. A cold feeling ran through her, and before she could turn she heard a familiar female voice.
“Just relax, Mrs. Wilberforce. I’ve got a gun, but I’m not here to hurt you in any way. Just turn around slowly.”
Dora held tightly to the towel and turned. Sherry Johnson stood in the hall pointing a large revolver at her. She started to put her hands up but when the towel started to fall off she had to grab for it. She fumbled with the towel and backed up as Sherry came into the bedroom and closed the door.
“You don’t have to put your hands up, under the circumstances, but don’t try anything foolish. I gather that your husband isn’t home.”
Dora shook her head.
“I don’t know where John is right now, but he might be headed home. He’s probably under police protection since everyone knows that you’ve escaped. So maybe you should-“
“Don’t bother with all that!” Sherry said testily. “I didn’t steal any money from the bank, and we both know who probably did.”
“Are you saying that John—“
“Stop it! I suppose the loyal wife is supposed to defend her husband, but down deep you must he did it. Or at least that he’s capable of it.”
Dora could not protest or even look into the girl’s eyes any longer.
“Well,” continued Sherry, “I don’t think he told you anything about stealing the money or where it’s hidden. I’ve got to search your house to make sure it isn’t here. So I’m afraid I’ll have to tie you up and gag you while I look.”
“You’re going to do what?” Dora cried.
Sherry smiled grimly.
“Are you more outraged about being tied up in a towel than you are at the suggestion your husband’s a thief?”
Dora made no reply, staring wide eyed at her youthful captor. Finally she relaxed a bit.
“Well, at least let me put my clothes on.”
“I’m sorry. There isn’t time. Though I doubt it, your husband may be coming home at this very moment. I’m not taking the chance.”
She stepped over to the chest of drawers. While keeping a watchful eye on Dora, she used one hand to search through the top drawer. She pulled out a pair of panties and tossed them to the woman.
“Here. Put those on.”
While Dora slipped on the panties, Sherry continued looking through the drawer. She soon had a handful of nylon stockings and another pair of underpants. Dora had the panties on and had tucked the towel as securely as possible to cover her torso. Sherry tossed all the stockings but one on the bed.
“Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Dora obeyed. Sherry laid the revolver on the bed and circled Dora’s wrists with the stocking several times. She stretched the fabric enough to make a seize in the bonds.
“I heard on the radio that you did this to that pretty deputy and the county nurse as well,” said Dora.
Sherry tied a secure knot.
“I’ve had to tie up six women today. So don’t feel that I’m being any nastier to you than anyone else. An escaped criminal gets desperate.”
“Six, you say. One might think you’re a career criminal with all this expertise in tying up women.”
The towel fell off exposing Dora’s youthfully firm, though not exceptionally large, breasts. Dora leaned over.
“Leave it.” commanded Sherry. “I don’t want to be nasty, but that last crack irritated me just enough to make me think that the little humility you might feel at being found with your breasts showing will be good for you.”
She took up another stocking.
“Sit down on the bed.”
Dora gave Sherry a withering glance as she sat.
“You’ll be back in handcuffs again soon enough, young lady.”
Sherry knelt and started winding the stocking around Dora’s ankles. Suddenly, the woman kicked out, her foot hitting Sherry in the shoulder and sending her sprawling. Dora leaped to her feet and ran for the door. She turned her back to the knob and tried to open it with her bound hands. She began to scream, no words on the first, then:
“Help! Someone help me!”
In a flash, Sherry was on her feet again. Dora managed to get the door open and take a step down the hallway before Sherry caught and tackled her. The younger woman got her hand over Dora’s mouth, stifling her screams. Sherry dragged Dora back to the bedroom as the woman alternated attempts to bite the girl’s hand with muffled cries for help. Holding her prisoner with one arm around the mouth and one leg wrapped around Dora’s, Sherry reached up onto the bed and found the panties she had dropped there. When she held them in front of Dora’s face, the woman realized what they were for and clamped her mouth shut, still struggling with her legs, body, and bound hands. Sherry let her hand slide to Dora’s nose and pinched her nostrils closed. The woman mewed in alarm and tried to hold out. But when her struggles ran her out of breath she had to open her mouth to breathe. Sherry let go of her nose and popped the wadded panties in. Finding another stocking, Sherry secured the gag by wrapping it twice around her head and between her jaws, trapping the wad in Dora’s mouth.
“Why did you have to do that?” muttered Sherry as she tied the ends of the stocking behind Dora’s head. She took another stocking and bound the woman’s ankles together, then pulled her up and sat her on the bed. “You know, I could have saved myself a lot of trouble if I’d just gone along and played hanky-panky with your husband when he asked me, like his new secretary does. We wouldn’t have had to go through with all this now.”
Dora stopped struggling and stared more daggers at the attractive young brunette. Sherry used another stocking to tie Dora’s legs just above the knees. Tying a couple stockings together, she used the longer bond to tie Dora’s arms securely to her torso. Then she rolled the woman face down on the bed and hogtied her with the last stocking.
Sherry stopped for a few slow breaths. Dora continued protesting into her gag, glaring at Sherry all the while.
“I’d better go and see if it looks like anyone heard those screams of yours.”
She strode quickly down the hallway and peered between the curtains on the front windows.
Jeanne Hall looked at the kitchen clock. It was nearing nine o’clock. She had given Sherry a two-hour start, so now it was time to see what she could do with the ropes binding her. Before she started, she took a last look at her reflection in the glass of one of the windows nearby. She looked just like one of the heroines on one of the TV detective shows she had seen: cute and appealing in her helplessness. It would be very romantic if that guy Bob from the office happened to come by and find her. Though he already had a girlfriend, she might be forgotten if he rescued Jeanne. It would be only natural for her to be grateful to anyone who saved her from such a dangerous predicament.
She stole a look down at herself, and noticed that the pull on her arms behind her had caused another button on her blouse to pop open. Her cleavage showed quite clearly. Maybe it would give him ideas. She looked into the glass and tried out a few helpless looks. The eyes and eyebrows were the key to doing them well: they would probably melt Bob’s heart at once. If only….
But she knew it was not going to be. Neither Bob nor any of the other eligible guys from town would be out here to see her. She had to get free herself.
She set to work.
John Wilberforce put down his empty glass. He was calmer now. The money was in the briefcase on the stool beside him. Though he had not packed a bag, there was certainly enough money to take care of all his needs. Especially in Mexico. One could live very cheaply there. And be free. Free of Dora, free of Marie, free of that dreadful bank, free of everything.
He motioned to the bartender. There was time for another drink.
As soon as Sky Ryder turned on some lights, he began the search. In the kitchen he found dishes, some washed and put in the drainer, others soaking in the sink. There was a pan with a couple of dried spaghetti noodles in it on the cool stove. In the refrigerator was a new bowl of leftovers: spaghetti and sauce mixed together as Copper always did. The first thing he had done was call out Copper’s name. Either she was not here or she could not answer. He went quickly to her bedroom.
Over the back of the chair of her kneehole vanity were Deputy Amy Cole’s stolen uniform and the pale yellow dress Copper had worn to court that morning. Both Copper’s matching high heels and the deputy’s shoes and socks were on the floor nearby. Sky opened a drawer of Copper’s dresser. There seemed to be clothes gone, but how many and which ones would be impossible to tell.
The covers on the bed were disordered though it looked as though no one had actually slept in it. His eyes strayed to the night table beside the bed. A sharp knife from the kitchen was on it. He knelt and pulled up the edge of the bedspread. On the floor were a short piece of rope that had been cut with the knife and three joined strips of tape. The tape had been used, and when removed had inadvertently stuck to itself. On the sticky side of the tape was a trace of lipstick.
The tall rancher was on his feet in a second. He went to the radio set in the front room, switched it on, and picked up the microphone.
“Calling Kermit Sheriff’s Office, this is the Flying Coronet. I need your help, Winch. Come in please.”