It made her feel cheated.
It gave her a tight, unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Instead of being eager for six o’clock to arrive, she started to dread it. Because she might have to face Warren, and she would
Tuck would know the truth about him.
And Dana wasn’t so sure she wanted to find out.
As closing time approached, however, she began to have new worries.
The shelves where she stored the tape players were nearly full. But not quite.
They had three empty spaces.
By six o’clock, the three players had still not been returned.
Chapter Sixteen
SANDY’S STORY—August, 1980
“I’ll go and get a shovel,” Harry said. “Why don’t you ladies wait for me here?”
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll leave?” Sandy asked.
“Leave if you want You’re not my prisoners. But if you stay, I’ll help you bury the guy. And you can spend the night at my place. I think you two could use a little rest.”
“Dat’s for damn sure,” Lib said.
“While I’m gone, maybe you should strip him. We’ll take his clothes and stuff back to the cabin with us and bum everything.”
“Done this sort of thing before?” Sandy asked.
“Just common sense. His body might get found someday. Better if it can’t be identified.”
“Yeah, that’s probably we,” Sandy said.
“Want the flashlight?” Harry asked.
“Don’t you need it?”
“I can get by without it.” He handed the flashlight to Sandy, then said, “I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”
“Okay, see you.”
“Bring us someting to drink, huh?”
“I’ll see what I can find.”
After he disappeared into the woods, Sandy could still hear his footsteps for a while. The crackling, crunching sounds finally faded out.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“About what?” Lib asked.
“Him. Harry.”
“Yum yum.”
tom serious.”
“Me, too.”
“He’s seen Slade. And us.”
“Guess he aims to help us.”
“Do you really think so?” Sandy asked.
“He’s goin’ por a shovel.”
“Maybe he’s going to call the coups.”
“Nah,” Lib said. “Ip he was gonna do dat, he would ob made us go wit him.”
Sandy supposed she was right about that. The guy certainly hadn’t acted as if he wanted to have them arrested. He’d actually seemed shocked by their story, and sympathetic. But maybe he’d been too sympathetic, too eager to take their side.
Maybe he had something up his sleeve.
“I tink he’s gonna help us bury da bastard.”
“Why would he want to do that?” Sandy asked.
“He’s a guy. We’re a couple ob babes. What da you tink? Probably wants to get in our pants.”
“If he tries anything with me,” Sandy said, “I’ll kill him.”
“Well, don’t kill him till apter da hole’s dug.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Shine dat light down here,” Lib said, and crouched over Slade’s body.
Sandy lowered the pale beam.
“Dat’s good. You just hold it dare, and I’ll strip him.”
First, Lib removed Slade’s wallet. Hardly giving it a glance, she tossed it to Sandy.
Sandy caught the wallet.
“Myting good in dat, we’ll split it pipty-pipty, okay?”
“Sounds fair,” Sandy said. She stuffed the wallet into the back pocket of her shorts.
Lib searched the rest of Slade’s pockets, but didn’t take anything out. Then she removed his boots, his socks, and all the rest of his clothes. She stuffed his socks, underwear and ascot into his boots. After laying out his trousers on the ground, she spread his bloody, torn silk shirt along the legs and rolled them up together.
“Dare,” she said.
“Don’t forget his wristwatch and rings.”
Lib took them. “Dese oughta be wort a pew bucks,” she said.
“We’d better just get rid of them.”
Standing up, Lib asked, “Gib ’em a toss?”
“Not here. Later.”
“Okie-doke.” Lib dropped them into the pocket of her Blazing Babes shirt. They made the silk bulge and sag over her left breast.
Sandy swept the flashlight down Slade’s body for a final check.
“How da hell many times you stab dis guy?” Lib asked.
“A few.”
“Damn sight more dan a pew. Whoo! Hope you don’t nebber get mad at
“Just be good to Eric and you won’t have to worry about it.” Sandy shut off the light.
“Hey, dat boy, he’s aces wit me.”
Soon, Harry returned. Though he walked in darkness, he carried a lantern. It made quiet squeaking, clinking sounds as it swung by his left side. A shovel and pick ax, resting on his right shoulder, clanked together with each step he took.
“Hello, ladies,” he said.
He crouched and set down the lantern. Using both hands, he lifted the tools off his shoulder and lowered them to the ground. “Brought you some refreshmmts.” he said. The front pockets of his trousers were bulging. He reached in and pulled out two cans. “A beer for you, ma’am,” he said, stepping forward and handing a can to Lib. And a Pepsi for you, Charly.” He gave a cold can to Sandy.
“Thanks,” Sandy said.
Lib popped open her tab and took a long drink. Then she sighed. Then she said, “You’re a lipe-saber, Harry. Nuttin’ beats a cold brew, and dat’s a pact.”
“Glad to be of service,” he said. Then he turned away, squatted over his lantern and worked on it until it came alive, hissing like a bag of snakes and filling the clearing with brilliant light.
“Jeez, that’s bright,” Sandy said.
“It’s supposed to be,” Harry said.
“What if somebody sees it?”
“Not much chance of that.” Rising, he picked up the lantern by its wire handle and turned toward the body. His back stiffened. He muttered, “Holy shit.”
