don’t come clean.”
Joe blotted his face with his sleeve. “You gotta keep your mouth shut,” he said; “old man Drutten’ll go crazy himself if this gets out.”
Hienie raised his eyebrows. “That would be just too bad,” he said with a sneer. “I’d hate Drutten to get into a lather. Like hell, I would.”
Joe looked furtively up and down the long, dark road, then he said hoarsely: “She got mixed up with a playboy.”
Hienie stared at him. “What the hell are you givin’ me? Mixin’ with playboys don’t make you crazy.”
“Yeah?” Joe’s eyes snapped. “Well, this guy sent her crazy. He’d got a bad mind, this guy. I guess from what I’ve heard he was a real bastard. He got her to his apartment one night an’ he did things to her. I ain’t tellin’ you what he did—but you can take it from me they were raw. She ran out of the apartment screamin’ like hell, without any clothes on, slap into a copper’s arms. There was an awful stink. The cops got hold of this guy and his dog —”
“His dog?” Hienie said.
Joe shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, he had a dog as big as an elephant.” He lowered his voice. “I guess it was the dog that sent her crazy.”
Hienie sat back. “Hell!” he said.
“That’s how it went. They got her back home, and they couldn’t do a thing with her. She’d just sit around broodin’, not sayin’ a word. I guess old Drutten had a bad time. Then she got on the booze; she got so she must have a man.” Joe shook his head. “It was a bad business. They kept her locked up, away from any guy, until one day one of the old man’s chauffeurs ran into her just after a drinking jag. Of course, she encouraged him, and after that they put her in a home.” Joe shuddered. “She’s bad when she gets with a man. She fixes him. That dame’s got a hell of a way of fixin’ a guy. When she fixes him, she fixes him good.”
Hienie wasn’t listening. He was already making plans. Boy! What a set-up. He’d only have to take the dame to her pa and tip the old man how much he knew, and he’d be in the gravy for the rest of his days.
He turned and looked at Joe. “It stinks,” he said. “I don’t believe a word. Joe, you’re gettin’ out an’ you’re walkin’.”
“You double-crossin’ son of a bitch,” Joe said furiously.
“Cut it out, sucker,” Hienie said viciously. “Get out or I’ll blast you.”
Joe hesitated, then opened the door and slid into the road. Hienie got into the driving-seat and started the engine. “Take it easy, pal,” he called, “the first ten miles are the worst.”
Leaving Joe yelling furiously after him, Hienie drove for some time into the darkness. Then he swung off the highway into a dirt road. When he had gone some miles he considered it safe enough to stop. He opened the panel and put his head through the aperture. “Hyah, Miss Drutten,” he called. “I guess you’re safe now.”
She climbed off the bunk and came over to him. She wore a dark, knitted two-piece suit. Hienie’s eyes kept returning to her figure. He thought this dame’s certainly got what it takes. Her frontage alone would be worth putting in pickle.
“You mean I can go? I shan’t see that dreadful little man again?”
Hienie grinned. “That’s right, baby; I’ll take you back to your pa, just as soon as you’ve given me the address.”
She peered at him. “I can’t see you—who are you? I’m still awfully scared.” Dark eyes looked into his, and he suddenly wanted her as he’d never wanted a woman before. He wanted to reach out and pull her to him. He wanted to feel her softness yield to him.
He looked at her, his eyes stripping her. Suppose she was crazy, that didn’t stop him giving her a tumble? She couldn’t start anything with him. He was acutely aware of his strength. If she did turn nutty, he could look after himself. He wanted a drink badly. Lifting the jar, he took a long pull. The liquor gave him just the little extra courage he needed. “To hell with it,” he thought, and climbed out of the cab. He went round to the back of the ambulance, still carrying the jar. He hesitated for a moment, then he undid the latch and turned the spring lock. He pulled open the door and climbed into the ambulance.
She came slowly towards him. She had a slow, almost lazy movement, and he could see her rounded thighs move under the woollen skirt.
He stood just inside the door, staring at her. The back of his throat went suddenly dry. Jeeze! This dame was good. Make no mistake about it. She was a riot. He stepped inside, pulling the door which closed with a faint click.
There wasn’t a great deal of room in the ambulance. Hienie said: “Sit down, baby, an’ let’s get acquainted.”
Her eyes were on the jar. “What’s that?” she asked.
Hienie sat down, holding the jar on his knee. “It’s applejack,” he said, watching her closely.
She sat down close to him and put her hand on the jar, just above Hienie’s hand. “Applejack?” she repeated.
“That’s right,” Hienie said, shifting his hand further up the jar. For a moment they touched. He felt the coolness of her flesh against his. Deliberately she took her hand away and put it in her lap. Hienie began to breathe heavily. He was going to give her the works even if she squawked her head off.
She smiled at him. She had a very nice smile. “I’ve never had applejack before. It’s a nice name, isn’t it?”
A tight little grin settled on Hienie’s mouth. He got up and went over to the little wash-basin. He took a glass and washed it carefully, and half filled it with liquor. All right, if she was crazy, and she got hot on booze, he’d risk the experiment. The longer he was with her the less he thought of Joe’s yarn.
“Try it, baby,” he said, “you’ll find it a tough drink all right.”
She looked at the glass, reached out, and again her slim fingers touched his. It affected Hienie like an electric shock. He shivered, standing against the wall of the ambulance, watching her.
She held the glass close to her lips. “It has a nice smell,” she said. Tilting her head, so he could see the white column of her throat, she began to drink. Hienie stood transfixed. The raw spirit slid down her throat like water.
Hienie said: “For Gawd’s sake—how did you do that?”
She held the glass towards him. “It’s nice. I’m so thirsty. May I have some more?”
He still stood staring at her. “Didn’t it burn you? Jeeze! It must have burnt you!”
A little frown settled between her eyebrows. “Can’t I have some more?” There was a slight grating sound in her voice.
Hienie looked at her sharply, hesitated, then filled her glass. This time he took a long pull from the jar himself. The liquor made him choke and splutter. When he had recovered, he saw she was nursing the empty glass, her eyes on the jar. He put the cork back firmly, and thumped it home with his fist.
Don’t do that,” she said sharply, “I want some more.”
Hienie shook his head. He felt a sudden confidence. He was no longer nervous of her. He didn’t care how mad she might be, he could handle her. “You’ve had plenty,” he said, putting the jar by the door, away from her. “You don’t want too much of that stuff.”
She put her hand on his arm, and leant close to him. Her breath, smelling of the sweet, sickly spirit, fanned his face. “There’s such a lot left—I’m thirsty.”
Hienie shifted closer to her. She was giving him the works all right. He slid his arm round her back. “Maybe there is, baby, but we’ve got a lot of time to kill.”
“But it’s so nice,” she giggled suddenly. “It makes me feel tight.” She leant against his arm.
“Sure it makes you feel tight.” He encircled her waist, letting his hand rest on her hip bone. She looked down at his hand, then swiftly up into his face. He pulled her close to him. “Your pa’s got plenty of dough, ain’t he?” he said, waiting for her to pull away.
She didn’t move. “Why did you ask that?”
“I like talkin’ about dough.” His hand shifted up, closing over her breast, it felt firm and full, imprisoned in his hand. She shivered and stiffened. Hienie went on talking, trying to keep his voice normal. “I like hearin’ about guys with plenty of dough. It must be a swell feeling to give a dame like you just what you want without wondering where the dough’s comin’ from to pay for it.” He didn’t know what he was saying, but he knew he had to keep on
