CHAPTER 8
The altimeter of the Cessna Bobcat T-50 read almost a thousand feet as Sky Ryder followed the highway south of Kermit. As the road began to turn gently to the southeast, Sky spotted a Sheriff’s car on the road below. He took up the radio microphone.
“Calling Sheriff’s Car One, this is Hummingbird. Do you read me, Winch? Over.”
Winchell looked out the passenger window of the patrol car and took up his radio handset. Deputy Charlie Barnes was driving.
“This is Winchell in Car One, Sky. We see you above us. Anything to report? Over.”
“Not yet, Winch. Have you heard from your other cars yet? Over.”
Before Winchell could respond, another voice answered.
“Sheriff. This is MacKeever in Car Two. Norris and I are about fifteen miles out of town, heading south on Route Ninety-Three. No sign of the subject yet. Over.”
Harry Tyler’s voice came on next.
“This is Tyler in Car Five. We’re about a mile from town and will do our best to catch up to you. Over.”
“This is Hummingbird. I’m going on ahead to see if I can spot our subject. I hope you fellows won’t do anything to spook him. Over.”
“You heard him men,” said Winchell. “No sirens and use your lights only if you have to. Over.”
The other cars acknowledged the call.
“Hummingbird out.”
Sky moved pushed the throttle forward. He quickly left Winchell’s car behind and overtook the leading car. He checked his wristwatch: almost eight o’clock. If the bartender’s story was accurate, Wilberforce had just over an hour’s start on them. If he was driving at the speed limit and trying not to attract attention, Sky could catch him in half an hour or so. The cars would take longer. If he found John Wilberforce, he would also have to avoid spooking him.
Sky set his jaw and added more speed. He had to find Copper.
Marie Sanders did not notice the blue car behind her until she had passed the buildings on the east edge of town. The car was well behind her and took the same turn she did onto a county road that headed south. It might not mean anything, since there were a number of ranches and other roads out this way. But She decided that she would keep checking behind her.
Sherry Johnson was wary of being spotted. In town following another car was more difficult because of other traffic, but it was easier to keep from being spotted. Now in more open country she would be more obvious. She would have to be careful.
“…And did you see that new hairdo of hers?”
The shorter of the two tellers covered her mouth with her hand a little too late to keep an audible peal of laughter from coming out as she and her friend made a visit to the ladies’ room in the bank. The taller girl suppressed her laughter also.
“The hairdo was more stylish than the dress she was wearing,” the tall girl replied. “It looked like something my mother would have made from an old couch cover during the war shortages. It was positively hideous.”
The two joined in laughter again. The shorter girl stopped and held up her hand. She seemed to be listening to the noise of the building’s air conditioning.
“Do you hear something funny, Connie?”
The tall girl listened. There was a faint but distinct sound, a peculiar kind of mewling that was either part of the machinery sound or almost covered by it. The tall girl cocked an eyebrow.
“The air conditioner sounds like it’s on its last legs, doesn’t it?”
The petite girl nodded.
“We’d better tell Bert about it.”
Returning to their gossip, the two women went into the washroom.
Copper Ryder knew most of the roads in the Kermit area, but this one was new to her. She had never heard of the Saddle Tramp Motel, and there was no identifying sign on the road that ran past it. Since she had been stuffed down on the floor of the backseat on the ride here, she did not even know which direction she had come from the Flying Coronet. The ranch was east of Kermit, but that was little help to her since she did not know which way or how far it was to town.
“I guess I’ll just have to pick a direction,” she said aloud.
Marie’s dress was low cut, and since it was too long for Copper, who had no bra since Marie had taken it, the girl had to keep pulling it up to cover her breasts. The short skirt was less a problem on someone four inches shorter, but Copper wished that Marie had left some shoes behind. Copper was not used to going barefoot. Fortunately it was not an asphalt road, just hard-packed dirt, but there were a few hard-to-see stones also.
Pulling up her top once again and picking her way carefully, the girl used the sun to figure out which way was north and set out in that direction.
Marie passed the Flying Coronet ranch heading south. Just a few more miles on this road would bring her to the road that led east. A couple miles on that road and then south again would bring her to the motel. She would keep her promise to Copper and take the sign off the door of her room so the maids would find her. After all, she bore no malice to a girl who had only been trying to help a friend.
She reached down to the seat beside her and hefted her purse. It was heavy with money. The bundle that John had taken was heavy too. Marie wondered if he had discovered it yet. No. John Wilberforce had so little nerve that he probably had picked up the bundle and fled with it. It would be an unpleasant surprise for him, but he deserved it. It was odd, she thought, that Sherry and Copper were better friends than she and Johnny.
She looked in the rearview mirror. The blue car was still there.
Deputy Amy Cole drew close to the intersection of the dirt road she had been searching and one of the paved county roads that ran north and south. There had once been a gas station and a general store on the corner but both had been long abandoned. She was still a couple hundred yards from the junction when a red sports car flashed by her going south. Amy’s patrol car had just come up beside the empty buildings when a blue sedan passed by in the same direction. The comely deputy was able to get only a fleeting look at the license plate, but it looked right. It was Jeanne Hall’s car. Amy had found Sherry Johnson.
She was about to turn on the light and siren, when it occurred to her that Sherry had probably not seen the patrol car because of the buildings at the corner. She decided to follow at a discreet distance and see where Sherry was headed.
Sky Ryder looked down at the large gray sedan on the road below him. John Wilberforce had a car like that. Though it was probably his quarry, Sky could not afford to close in too soon. The first Sheriff’s car, with MacKeever and Norris, was still a few miles behind, and Winchell’s perhaps five miles away from them. It was a delicate situation, but Sky wanted to be sure that it was the banker he was following. He pushed the yoke forward and began his descent.
John Wilberforce looked at his watch. A little after nine o’clock. That meant it was eleven o’clock in New York. Only a couple more hours until the World Series game started. He would enjoy listening to it. With a chuckle he thought of his ten dollar bet with George, the guard. No matter who won, George was going to get the ten. It was worth it.
The rush of air through the open windows kept him from noticing any sounds, but his attention was suddenly drawn to the movement of something dark in the sand to his left. It was the shadow of a plane.
He looked in the mirrors, then attempted to crane his neck to look. Finally he saw it. A small twin engine plane was closing on him and getting lower as it approached. It passed over him and banked off to the right. The thought flashed through Wilberforce’s mind: Sky Ryder! And wherever Sky Ryder was, his friend the Sheriff wouldn’t be far behind.
The beefy banker stepped on the accelerator, but the plane overtook him easily on a second pass.
“All Sheriff’s cars, this is Hummingbird calling. He’s seen me and is making a run for it. Car Two, I have you in sight. Keep coming. I’ll try to slow him down a little. Hummingbird out.”
Wilberforce jammed on the brakes as the plane swooped down in front of him passing from his left to right, then banking off behind him. He stepped on the gas again and turned to his left to watch for the next pass, only to have the plane come from the right this time. Startled, Wilberforce again jammed on the brakes. After the plane had gone behind him, he pressed the accelerator to the floor. The car shot ahead. Now the banker divided his attention between both sides, trying to anticipate Ryder’s move. But this time the wily flyer came in from the left rear at a very shallow angle, again causing his quarry to hit the brakes again.
Now truly rattled, Wilberforce accelerated again. His head swung and turned wildly from side to side, looking front and rear trying to see where the plane was. So busy was he looking in all directions, that he failed to notice a pickup truck pulling a small trailer of hay bales turning from the oncoming lane into a rancher’s drive ahead of him. By the time he looked forward again it was too late.
The banker hit the brakes and turned the wheel violently to the left. The car went off the road, narrowly missing the truck and trailer and a telephone/ utility pole as well. Luckily for Wilberforce, there was no steep incline or ditch off the side of the road, but the ground was very rough. His right wheel got onto ground higher than the left, causing the car to tip to the driver’s side, then hit a rock of some kind. The right wheels lifted off the ground. Now the left wheel hit an obstruction that slowed the car. The driver’s door flew open just before the front end ran flush into a pile of earth. Wilberforce was thrown into the steering wheel and struck his head on the windshield. The pursuit was over.
Marie Sanders could hardly believe her eyes when she arrived at the motel room. The bed was empty and all the ropes that had bound Copper Ryder lay on the bed or on the floor. She pondered what to do. Should she try to find and recapture the girl? Or should she make all haste in getting out of here?
She thought again of the blue sedan. She had not seen it for the last part of the trip, but the road was not quite so straight or the country quite so open there. It would be a good idea to be cautious.
She went to the window and looked out. No one there.
Marie took the pistol from her purse.
Sherry Johnson approached the motel cautiously. She had left the car a hundred yards or so down the road where it was hidden from view of the office by trees. The parking area was very quiet. There were only a couple of cars there. She did not see Marie’s red car, but she noticed that there might be more units behind the block facing the office. Keeping undercover as much as she could, Sherry made her way toward the units in the rear.
Using a wooden fence at the end of the lot and a maintenance shed of some kind, Sherry managed to get to the back row of rooms. There was only one car parked there, Marie’s little sports car. Sherry drew the pistol from her belt and was about to go around the corner when a cold female voice stopped her.
“Stop right there. You’re covered. Drop the gun and raise your hands.”
Sherry dropped the pistol and put her hands above her head.
“Now lean against the wall with your hands spread wide.”
The woman did as ordered. She heard shoes or boots crossing the dirt and gravel toward her.
“Any sudden moves and I’ll have to shoot,” the woman said from behind her.
“I’m not going to try anything. Just keep your voice down. She may hear us.”
A handcuff went over Sherry’s right wrist. Her arm was pulled behind her and her left hand brought down to join the right. The cuffs were tightened an extra click.
Deputy Amy Cole holstered her revolver and turned her prisoner to face her.
“You caused me a lot of trouble, Sherry,” Amy said dryly. She added with quiet satisfaction: “But catching you today almost makes up for the embarrassment of losing you yesterday.”
“I’m sorry about having to do that, deputy. But I know who really took the money from the bank. It’s Marie Sanders, Mr. Wilberforce’s new secretary and she’s in a room around the corner.”
Amy peeked around the corner and saw Marie’s car.
“Is that her car?”
“Yes, and I think that she’s even got the money with her.”
Amy looked at the recaptured fugitive thoughtfully.
“Look, Amy,” Sherry pleaded, “I know you’ve got to take me in, and Lord knows I deserve these handcuffs. But please take her in too. Use any excuse you can, but you’ve got to stop her before she gets away.”
For a half-minute or so, Amy mulled over the decision. After taking one more look at the red car, she reached her decision. But instead of saying anything, she reached for Sherry’s belt and unbuckled it. She pulled the belt from the loops, unbuttoned Sherry’s pants and pulled them down.
“Step out of them.”
Sherry was puzzled, but took her feet from the fallen jeans.
“Sit down.” Amy ordered.
The brunette sat on the concrete walk. Amy pulled off the girl’s shoes and socks and used the belt to bind her ankles together. She tossed the jeans away.
“I’m going to do it, but I’m making sure you stay put first,” Amy said. “And just in case you try to make any noise…”
She took a scarf from her pocket and wadded it.
“I guess I deserve this,” sighed Sherry.
“You sure do,” the deputy said emphatically, forcing the wad into her prisoner’s mouth. Amy used the lanyard of her whistle to secure the gag in place. She stepped back to admire her work. Her back was to the corner where the red car waited.
“Not anywhere near the job you did on me, but it’ll do.”
As shapely deputy reached for her own pistol, Sherry’s eyes grew wide. Something hard was pushed into Amy’s back.
“Keep away from it, deputy,” warned Marie.
With a sigh, Amy dropped her hand. Marie removed the pistol from the holster and spun Amy around. She grinned at the two beauties.
“Well, there seems to be a party going on out here. Bring her in, deputy. We’ll play too.”
Dora Wilberforce was lost. She had used the map in the phonebook to try to place the Saddle Tramp Motel, but in a car the roads seemed to be different. She had stopped at a gas station and asked about the motel. The attendant had grinned in a familiar way and said something to a male customer about the ‘no-tell motel.’ He then gave her a good looking over, with obvious approval, and asked about the large brown paper shopping bag beside her in the front seat. When she told him that the bag’s contents were none of his business, he had laughed again and given her directions.
But again, the roads did not seem to have the right names or lead to the roads that they should have. She had become hopelessly turned around and was about to give up when she saw a landmark the station attendant had mentioned. The road had led to another, which had the name of one she had written. In another few minutes she saw a sign indicating that the motel was ahead.
Dora reached down on the seat beside her and pulled her purse, containing the .32 police-style revolver, closer to her. There might be use for it soon. And should she encounter Marie or Sherry the shopping bag had the most essential equipment.
Copper Ryder trudged wearily down the road. She had been careful during the first part of her escape, knowing that Marie was going to return to the motel. When the girl had seen the dust of an approaching car, she had taken cover a hundred or so yards from the road. Sure enough, the first car to pass was Marie’s little red one. When she saw more dust, Copper remained under cover on the chance that the next vehicle was John Wilberforce or another ally of Marie’s. Copper had not recognized the blue car that had followed Marie down the road and then, before she could get back where she could be seen, another car passed. This one Copper had no trouble identifying as a Kermit County sheriff’s car. The stiff and weakened girl had run to the road, calling and waving in a vain attempt to get help, but the driver had not seen her. The plucky blonde pushed on. Sooner or later she knew that she would find a ride.
Another car appeared in front of her. Though it was headed toward her, Copper stepped to the middle of the road and began to wave. With Marie having passed by, the girl figured that there was little danger of meeting someone in league with Marie.
The car, a light colored, good-sized luxury-type, stopped a few feet away. Copper ran to the door and opened it.
“Please, can you help me! I’ve been kid—“
She stopped abruptly. The woman driving was Dora Wilberforce.
“Why, Miss Ryder!” she exclaimed. “You’re quite a sight! What’s happened to you?”
Copper was taken aback. For a moment she was unable to speak.
“Is something wrong, dear?”
“Uh,… why no Mrs. Wilberforce. I’m just surprised to see you out here, that’s all.”
“You were expecting your friend Sherry, maybe?”
The icy way she spoke Sherry’s name made Copper very uneasy.
“Look, Mrs. Wilberforce, I know what you and some of the other women in town think about Sherry and your husbands, but you’re wrong! And even if I’m Sherry’s friend, I need help right now.”
Dora looked sympathetic.
“Of course, dear. Get in.”
Copper slid in the front seat. The bag was in the way so the girl pushed it to make room. Some of the contents slipped out onto the floor of the car. Copper bent over to pick them up. She found several hundred-foot coils of rope, 3/16-inch sashcord or clothesline–type, and two coils thick enough to moor a sizable yacht. There were also a several new washcloths, a couple rolls of wide adhesive tape, and a pair of dressmaker’s scissors. Copper stared in wonder as she put the items back in the bag.
“What an odd assortment of things,” she said bending down to pick up the last of them. “What’re they for?”
She straightened up and found herself looking into the muzzle of Dora Wilberforce’s pistol. The woman smiled malevolently.
“Why they’re for you and your friends, dear.”
John Wilberforce opened his eyes. His head hurt again, but this time not from alcohol. He put his hand to his forehead and drew away bloody fingers. Looking back to the road he saw a couple cars pulling over to the shoulder of the lane that had been oncoming to his. Gingerly turning to look in the other direction, he could see the truck he had almost hit completely pulled into a rancher’s drive across the road. The driver was running toward him. And now there was a flashing red light. A police car that had come from the same direction he had was pulling over. In the distance he could see another flashing light in the distance.
Gradually he began to realize that despite the pain in his head and other places that he was not hurt too seriously. He tested all his limbs. There was feeling and movement in all of them. But no. Maybe he was hurt badly. He seemed to be hallucinating a plane rolling up on the flat ground a short distance away. It was a dandy hallucination. He could even imagine the roar of the plane’s engines and the feel of sand and dirt raised by the plane’s propellers blowing into his face and around him.
He had another hallucination as a fifty-dollar bill danced in front of his eyes. Then came the realization. The money! The package had split open and the wind from the plane’s propellers was scattering the money. Reflexively he grabbed at the seat beside him. In his bloodstained fingers were two fifty-dollar bills and some paper. Paper? He looked down. Flying all around him were dollar bill sized cuttings from newspapers and magazines.
That witch Marie! She had double-crossed him. He had nearly killed himself for a few hundred dollars and a bundle of waste paper. And now he was going to jail.
Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, he tried both, more or less simultaneously.