“Your pimp trying to break out,” he said and sat down again. “That’s something he won’t do. That pole was a bright idea of yours, Helga. It is strong enough to pen in a bull. I know… I’ve tried.”
Still standing, she stubbed out her cigarette. Her mind was working swiftly. She knew she was caught unless she could find another way out. She was sure Herman would pay rather than let the photograph go into circulation. Archer would get his money and his freedom and she would lose everything! Her bluff had failed!
“Are you all right, ma’am?” Larry bawled through the door.
“Don’t move, Helga,” Archer said, stretching out his long, thick legs. “Never mind about him. Sit down. What do you think of square D?”
She picked up her drink.
“Ma’am!” Larry’s voice crashed into the room.
She braced herself, then taking a quick step forward she threw the contents of her glass in Archer’s face. Spinning around, she darted into the hall. She threw herself against the pole. It shuddered but held. She heard a roar of rage from Archer and as she heaved frantically at the pole, he came blundering out. The vodka was stinging his eyes and he was half blind. She dodged around the pole, caught hold of it and pulled with all her strength. She felt it shift as Archer struck at her. His fist thudded into her shoulder, sending her staggering back, but somehow, she kept her grip on the pole. It came with her. She sprawled on the floor, the pole on top of her.
The door crashed open and Larry charged out. Archer was frantically wiping his eyes clear with his handkerchief. Larry went for him. The two men crashed together: Archer’s fingers at Larry’s face and Larry’s great fists smashing into Archer’s body.
Helga threw the pole from her and she scrambled to her feet. She could hear Archer’s sobbing gasps and saw his knees sagging as Larry’s fists, moving like pistons, thudded into Archer’s fat body.
Archer’s legs sagged and he went down on his knees. Larry stepped back, then hit Archer on the side of his jaw. Helga flinched and shut her eyes. To her, it was a terrible blow: a blow that could kill.
When she looked again, Archer was flat on his back, unconscious. His chest was heaving and blood trickled down his nostrils. The skin along his jaw had split and was bleeding.
“No more!” Helga cried. “Don’t… don’t…!”
Muttering to himself, Larry caught hold of Archer’s ankles and dragged him to the cellar doorway. Then walking backwards down the stairs, he dragged Archer after him. The sound of Archer’s head thumping on each stair made Helga feel faint. She went limply into the sitting-room and flopped on the settee. She lay there with her hands to her face, fighting off the feeling of faintness that threatened her.
Time ceased to exist. She felt she was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. Then she felt a hand touch her gently.
“Are you all right, ma’am?” 165
She took her hands from her face. Larry was bending over her, concern and worry in his eyes.
“Yes.” She looked helplessly up at him. “Did he hurt you?”
“It’s okay. I asked for it. You stay right there, ma’am. I’ll get you a cup of tea.”
“I don’t want anything. Is he all right?”
Larry fingered the back of his head.
“Oh, sure. I wouldn’t have believed it. I didn’t think he would have had the guts. He didn’t telephone the bank?”
“No.”
“I was scared he would do that.”
“I stopped him.”
His warm, friendly smile was comforting.
“Well, you’ve got guts, ma’am. I thought he’d really fixed us.”
“I did, too.”
He straightened.
“I guess all that excitement has made me hungry. I’ll get lunch. Some food will do you good.”
“No! I’ll lie on my bed. I just want to stay quiet. You go ahead, Larry.”
His look of concern returned.
“You’re feeling bad, ma’am?”
Her fare worked as she tried to control her tears. She nodded. He bent and scooped her up effortlessly and carried her into her bedroom. The feel of his hands around her waist and thighs started her blood moving hotly through her body. She relaxed against him. The faint smell of his body sweat, the hardness of his chest against her face, his thorough maleness sent sensuous waves of desire through her. He lowered her on to the bed and gently took off her shoes.
“You rest, ma’am,” he said and going to the window, he pulled the drapes, shutting out the sunshine. “You just take it easy.”
“You’re a wonderful comfort to me, Larry,” she said, watching him as he moved to the door. “Thank you.”
He smiled.
“You take it easy.”
He left the room, closing the door after him.
She lay still, wishing he hadn’t gone. She now wanted him with a sexual ache that tormented her. She could hear him in the kitchen, whistling softly as he began to prepare a meal for himself. She wanted to call to him. She wanted him to strip off her clothes and take her with this sudden gentleness he had revealed and which she hadn’t believed possible in him.
But she didn’t call him.
She lay in the semi-darkness, shivering a little. She felt drained and exhausted. She thought of the hours ahead of her before the photographs arrived.
She had to be patient, she told herself and closed her eyes. She gave herself up to the long wait.
When the Grandfather clock in the hall chimed seven, she roused herself. She felt rested and in control of herself. She got off the bed, stripped off her sweater and slacks and then went into the bathroom.
She could hear the television going in the sitting-room.
Her shoulder ached where Archer had hit her and when she looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, she grimaced. There was a black, spreading bruise from her shoulder to her breast. Lifting her eyes to her face, reflected in the mirror, she saw how tired, white and gaunt she looked.
She drew a bath and lay in the comforting hot water for more than half an hour. As she was drying herself, she heard the television set being turned off, then a tapping on her bedroom door.
“Do you feel like something to eat, ma’am?” Larry called.
“Anything… something light.”
“Okay, ma’am… I’ll fix it.”
She worked on her face, spent ten minutes fixing her hair, then she returned to the bedroom. She put on fresh pants, bra and stockings. She stood before her open wardrobe and surveyed the many dresses, costumes and suits. Finally, she selected a simple white silk dress and slipped it on. She put a gold chain around her slim waist and surveyed herself.
Not bad, she thought: tired, but interestingly tired and no longer looking like a hag.
She left her bedroom and went into the sitting-room. She could hear Larry in the kitchen, but she now badly wanted a drink. She made a stiff vodka and martini, then lighting a cigarette and carrying her drink, she went into the kitchen.
Larry was standing by the glowing grill. His jaw was moving as he chewed. At her entrance, he turned around and his ryes widened a little at the sight of her.
“Gee, ma’am… you look beautiful!”
She couldn’t remember when a man had said that to her: a long time ago, she thought and she smiled.
‘Thank you, Larry. Won’t you have a drink?”
“No, thank you, ma’am. Drink doesn’t get along with me. I got drunk once and I got into a lot of trouble so I keep away from it.”
“You’re wise. What are you cooking?”
“You said you wanted something light. I dug out a couple of soles. I guess this freezer has all the food in the
