Part 21 (1/2)

Miss Blandish lay across Rocco's vast divan, staring with blank eyes up at the ceiling.

At any other time, Rocco would have considered himself well off to have had such a beauty in his room, but now his mind was crawling with alarm, and this long-legged redhead could have been a shop window dummy lying on his bed for all her physical attractions meant to him.

I've got to play this smart, he had told himself when he had persuaded her finally to enter his apartment. It's no good calling the cops. I must contact Blandish. If I'm going to get my hands on that fifteen grand, he is my only hope. If I go to the cops, they'll gyp me out of the money.

He had already checked the telephone book, but Blandish's name wasn't in it. He had called information, but the girl couldn't or wouldn't tell him Blandish's number. When you are a millionaire you don't have your name in the book. This was something Rocco hadn't thought of. Now, after phoning most of the important clubs and restaurants asking for Blandish and getting nowhere, he was getting worried. If he didn't find Blandish soon, he told himself, he could be in trouble. At the back of his mind, he kept thinking of Slim. He couldn't imagine how Slim could possibly guess he had the Blandish girl, but if he did guess and if he did come here, then Rocco knew he wouldn't have long to live.

He had tried to stimulate the girl's memory by giving her the back copies of the newspapers that splashed the kidnapping across their pages. While he had been using the telephone, she had listlessly stared at the newspapers, but he could see she didn't connect herself with the photographs nor with the account of the kidnapping.

He looked over at her. She continued to stare up at the ceiling, her drugged eyes sightless.

”Hey, baby,” Rocco said, aware now that they had been in this room for over two hours. ”Will you try to concentrate. How can I contact your pa? I've called every lousy number I can think of and still I can't find him.”

She moved her long legs as she continued to stare up at the ceiling. She didn't seem to be aware he was in the room.

Exasperated, Rocco went over to her and put his hand on her arm.

”Hey! Wake up!”

The touch of his hand brought a reaction that scared him. She wrenched away and crouched against the wall, her eyes wide with terror.

”Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. ”You don't have to be scared of me. Will you listen? I'm trying to find your pa. What is his telephone number?”

Miss Blandish cringed away from him.

”Leave me alone.” she said. ”Don't touch me!”

Rocco tried to control his rising panic.

”If I don't find your pa,” he said, ”we'll both be in trouble. Don't you understand? We'll have Slim here. How do I find your pa?”

She suddenly slid off the bed and ran to the door. She caught hold of the handle as Rocco reached her.

”Keep away!” she said shrilly. ”Let me out of here!”

Sweating, Rocco threw her back onto the bed. He knelt over her, clamping his hand over her mouth.

”Shut up!” he said feverishly. ”Do you want Slim to find you?”

She ceased to struggle and for the first time since she had been in the room, her eyes came alive. He took his hand off her mouth.

”Yes, I want Slim,” she said. ”I want him to come here!”

”You don't know what you're saying,” Rocco said, staring at her. ”Don't you want to go home? What's the matter with you?”

She shook her head.

”I haven't any home. I haven't anyone. I just want Slim.”

Rocco stood up.

”I'm going to call the cops,” he said. ”I've had enough of this.” He went over to the telephone, thinking, if they gyp me out of the reward, it'll be too bad, but I've got to get them here before Slim gets here.

He began to dial police headquarters. Miss Blandish made a sudden dive off the bed. She caught hold of the telephone cable and yanked it from its terminals.

For a long moment, Rocco, the dead telephone receiver clutched in his hand, stood staring at her, feeling a chill crawling up his spine.

”You crazy fool!” he snarled. ”What do you imagine you're doing?”

She backed away from him.

”You must tell him you took me away,” she said, wringing her hands. ”You must tell him I didn't want to go with you.”

”Why, you... you...” Words failed Rocco. ”What's the matter with you? I'm trying to help you. Don't you want to get away from Slim?”

She leaned against the wall and she began to cry weakly.

”I can't get away from him. I'll have him with me to the end of my days.”

”You're talking crazy!” Rocco cried. ”I'm going to fetch the cops.”

She slid along the wall to the door and set her back against it.

”No! You must wait here until he comes!” she said, her voice shrill. ”You must tell him you took me away!”

Exasperated, Rocco caught hold of her arm and dragged her away from the door. He threw her onto the bed. As he turned to the door, she started up. Her hand closed around a heavy gla.s.s ashtray standing on the bedside table. She threw the ashtray at him. It caught him on the side of his head and he went down on his hands and knees, stunned.

Miss Blandish leaned against the wall, staring down at him.

Rocco tried to push himself upright, then he flopped down on his side, holding his head and groaning.

The sound of a door opening made Miss Blandish look across the room. The door leading to the bathroom was opening. She stood transfixed as the door swung fully open and Slim moved into the room.

Slim had come up the fire escape and through the bathroom window. His yellow, gleaming eyes moved from Miss Blandish to Rocco sprawling on the floor.

Only half conscious, Rocco sensed his danger. An instinctive feeling warned him he was but a heart beat away from death. He rolled over on his back, his hands raised in a futile gesture of protection.

Slim came forward. He was grinning.

Miss Blandish saw the glittering knife in his hand and she turned away, closing her eyes.

She heard Rocco whimper.

The sounds that followed made her sink onto her knees, her hands over her ears.

Each dull blow of Slim's knife into Rocco's body made her stiffen and shudder.