You know how it is when you keep sticking your thumb up, and the cars go on by, just like you weren’t there. You think, “O.K., I’ll let this flock through and wait for a truck.” Then you pound away on your dogs, hoping for a truck to show up, but it doesn’t.
That’s the way it took Hienie. Not that Hienie was a bym, he wasn’t. Fate, or what ever you like to call a lousy break, had dealt him one from the bottom of the deck. He and Johnny Frost had got together to do a job. It was simple enough. Hienie had seen to all the details and that meant something. Hienie was a smart guy when it came to details.
All they had to do was to walk into a cafe, show the guy behind the counter a gun, open his cash-box, and beat it. Hienie knew this guy took the cash round to the bank every Friday. During the week the cash-box got good and full. The guy was crazy to have a system like that, but then, Hienie and Frost lived on crazy guys.
You’d think you couldn’t go wrong on a simple set-up like that—you couldn’t, but Frost got it into his nut that you could. He started making plans and getting smart, until Hienie got sore.
Hienie kept telling him all they had to do was to blow in, show the gun, and collect. You didn’t have to hang around checking the time when the coppers would be around. You didn’t have to turn your clothes inside out, so you wouldn’t be spotted, or do any of the other cock-eyed ideas Frost kept squawking about.
Frost wouldn’t do the job the easy way. They were still arguing when they set off by road to Jefferson City. Finally, Hienie got mad, and that’s where he came unstuck. Frost was a big guy and he owned the car. He listened to Hienie for a couple of minutes and then hoofed him out of the car. “O.K., smart guy,” he said, letting the clutch in with a bang, “go bowl a hoop. I’ll handle the job myself.”
Hienie was so mad that he let him go. He had a childlike faith that he could collect a lift from one of the many glittering cars that continually roared past. He’d get a lift to Jefferson City and beat that hop head to it.
It was only after the sixteenth car had ignored his frantic signals that doubt began to cloud his optimism. After the twentieth car had choked him with dust, he gave up and decided to wait for a truck.
He sat by the roadside and lit a cigarette. He cursed Frost viciously, groping far back in his loose mind for suitable terms. If ever he caught up with that guy he’d give it to him. He’d walk right up to him and say, “Hello, pal,” and then he’d let him have it in the guts. He’d stand over him and watch the heel croak.
As he sat there brooding, he noticed a car approaching in the distance. One glance made him get to his feet hurriedly. It wasn’t a private car; from where he was standing it looked mighty like a hearse.
“This guy ain’t passin’ me,” Hienie thought, moving out into the middle of the highway. “He’ll have to run me down first.” He began waving his arms violently.
As the car approached, he could see a small red cross painted on the front, and for a moment he almost stepped aside; but the thought of Frost made him stand firm.
The ambulance made as if to swerve, then slid to a standstill. A little guy in a white coat, and wearing a peaked cap, rolled down the window and looked at Hienie with interest.
“What’s bitin’ you, pal?” he asked, resting two powerful fists on the wheel.
Hienie took off his hat and blotted his face. “Jeeze! I was just givin’ up when you blew along.”
The little guy shook his head. “You can’t ride on this wagon,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong. I’d give you a lift, sure thing, but I’m on duty. I gotta patient.”
Hienie didn’t care if he’d got elephants on board. He was going to ride now he’d succeeded in stopping something on four wheels.
“Forget it,” he said sharply, his thin wolfish face going hard. “There’s room in the cab. I don’t want to get inside.”
The little guy shook his head again. “Can’t do it, pal. I’d lose my job. Some other guy will be along soon. I gotta get on. Maybe you’d like a smoke or somethin’?”
Hienie stepped round the ambulance, jerked open the offside door and got into the cab. He slammed the door shut.
“I’m ridin’,” he said briefly. “Get goin’.”
The little guy twisted round in his seat, so that he faced Hienie. “Don’t let’s have any trouble; I may be a little guy, but I’m tough. Beat it, before I start somethin’.”
Hienie could handle this sort of talk. He reached behind him and pulled his gun. He showed it to the little guy. “I don’t have to be tough,” he said.
The little guy’s eyes popped. “Jeeze!”
“That’s it,” Hienie said, putting the gun away. “Let’s go.”
The little guy engaged the gears. “I’m going to lose my job,” he said regretfully.
Hienie leant back against the well-cushioned seat. “You ain’t losin’ nothin’,” he said. “You get me to Jefferson and you’ll make yourself somethin’.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Hienie said: “You ain’t worryin’ about the rod, are you, pal?”
The little guy gave him a quick glance. “Sure, I ain’t,” he said hastily.
“You’re O.K. with me,” Hienie assured him, “it’s just the way I’ve got when guys get tough. I just gotta pull a rod. Maybe it’s goin’ to get me into a little trouble one day.”
“I ain’t so tough,” the little guy said rather bitterly. “I oughtta’ve taken a chance and hung one on you.”
Hienie grinned. “You’re all right. You’re a wise guy. It ain’t healthy to tap a guy with a rod. Take it from me, pal, I know.” He fumbled for a cigarette and offered one.
When they had lit up, Hienie said, “What’s your name, pal?”
The little guy looked at him suspiciously. “Joe,” he said, with obvious reluctance.
Hienie grinned. “A swell name for a swell guy, huh?”
Joe didn’t say anything, he kept on driving. Hienie watched the road for a while, then he shut his eyes and dozed. It was hot inside the cab, so he let himself drift for a while. Then curiosity made him ask lazily, “Say, Joe, what’s wrong with the patient?”
“Aw, she’s nuts,” Joe said, leaning forward to switch on the side lights.
Hienie sat up. “You mean she’s crazy?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s tough. Gee! I’d hate to be a nut.”
Joe shrugged. “When you’re crazy, you don’t mind so much. It’s goin’ crazy that’s bad.”
Hienie thought this over. “Yeah,” he said, “I guess that’s right.” He lit another cigarette. “Crazy guys give me the heebies.”
“You get used to it,” Joe said, rolling down the window to spit into the dark. “It’s the tough ones I don’t fancy.”
“Is she tough?” Hienie asked with morbid curiosity.
Joe hesitated. “Yeah,” he said; “I ain’t allowed to talk about the patients.” He slowed down as they approached a gas station. “Keep outta sight, pal,” he said, “I got my job to think about.”
Hienie sat back. “I could use a drink. Yes, sir, right now I could use a lotta drink.”
Joe’s face brightened. “I could get you somethin’ if you’ve the dough.”
“The right stuff. I don’t want any gut-rot. I want the right stuff.”
“Sure, the liquor’s the McCoy. The guy distils it himself right here. It’ll cost you a couple of bucks, but it’s panther’s spit all right.”
Hienie dug into his trouser pocket and found two dollars. “Get it,” he said briefly.
Joe climbed out of the cab and walked stiffly into the office. He came out after a few minutes, carrying a gallon-size earthenware jar. Hienie reached forward and took it from him.
Joe stood watching. Hienie drew the cork with his teeth and carefully raised the jar to his mouth. He took a long pull and blinked. He coughed, and began to rub his coat front with the palm of his hand. “Yeah,” he said, when he could get his breath, “it’s the McCoy all right.”
Joe shifted about, anxiously eyeing the bottle, but Hienie paid no attention. He took another long pull from the jar, then hurriedly handed it to Joe. “My Gawd,” he gasped, “it went down as far as my boots that time.”
Joe wrapped himself round the jar lovingly and kept it glued to his mouth.
After almost a minute, Hienie leant forward. “Hey!” he shouted sharply. “Take it easy. Hey! Lay off, will you?”
Joe removed himself from the jar with a little shudder. His eyes swam mistily as he handed it back. “Pretty nice,” he said; “that’s swell poison.”
Hienie looked at him admiringly. “You certainly can take it,” he said.
Joe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah, I can take it all right, but it sortta sneaks up on me and bonk—I’m out.”
Hienie wasn’t listening, he was busy with the jar again.
Joe said, when he was through: “I’m just goin’ to look at my patient, and then we’ll dust.”
“Sure, give her a drink—it’s tough bein’ a nut.”
Joe shook his head. “She ain’t to have any liquor. That’s her trouble—too much liquor,” he said, going round to the back of the ambulance. When he had paid for the gasoline he climbed into the cab.
Hienie said, “She O.K.?”
“Yeah, she’s asleep,” Joe returned, starting the engine.
Hienie offered him the jar. “Just one for the road,” he said.
Joe grabbed the jar and took a long pull. He handed it back with a deep sigh. “Pal,” he said, blowing out his leathery cheeks, “this is certainly a great little evenin’.”
After a couple more drinks, Hienie felt so merry he began to sing at the top of his voice.
Joe said hastily, “You can’t do that on this wagon.”
Hienie continued to bellow, counting his time by waving the jar to and fro.
Joe got scared and brought the ambulance to a standstill. “For Pete’s sake,” he said urgently, “pipe down. You’ll wake my patient up and maybe get the cops lookin’ us over.”
Hienie roared with laughter. “Forget it, Joe,” he said, taking another pull from the jar. “Don’t be a crab. I bet that nutty dame just loves my voice. Come on, you sing too.”
Joe said angrily: “Cut it out. No girl’s goin’ to like the row you’re makin’—not even a crazy one.”
Hienie stiffened. His smile slipped into a heavy scowl. “Yeah? Is that so? O.K., you soft-bellied little runt, we’ll ask her and see.”
Joe shook his head. “Like hell we will,” he said firmly. “You pipe down, or I’ll get tough.”
Hienie reached out and slid back the small panel that divided the ambulance from the cab. He put his head through the foot-square aperture and blinked into the faintly lit ambulance. He touched an electric switch by his hand, and a brilliant light went on.
Joe said furiously: “Lay off. You can’t do this.”
Hienie ignored him. He looked curiously at the bunk that ran the length of the ambulance. Someone was lying there covered by a rug.
He leant further forward. “Hey!” he called. “Let’s have a look at you.”
The figure stirred and then slowly sat up. Although the applejack had given him plenty of courage, he felt a little chill run through him as the woman moved. He had always had a fear of things he couldn’t understand. Madness scared him more than most things. He got a hell of a shock when she sat up. He had vaguely pictured her to be old and horrible to look at, only because he had associated madness with decay.
This dame was something to look at. She was not only a beauty, but she had everything. Her colouring, the sleepy passion in her eyes, the small, full, heavily rouged lips and the soft, golden lustre of her hair. Her beauty hit Hienie like a physical blow. He peered at her, his jaw a little slack and his bloodshot eyes glassy. “For God’s sake!” he said in a low tone.
She looked at him, a puzzled interested expression on her face. “Who are you?” she asked, then, hurriedly: “Please get me out of here.”
Hienie was so confused that he jerked back and slammed the panel shut. Feebly, he pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his damp hands.
Joe said angrily: “What the hell do you think you’re doin’?”
Hienie looked at him. “Wait a moment. That dame’s no more crazy than I am. What’s the game?”
Joe began to stutter. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I tell you she’s not only nutty but she’s goddam dangerous. You can’t go by how a dame looks. It ain’t her looks that’re wrong, it’s her mind—get it?”
Hienie nodded. “Yeah, I get it,” he said, sliding his hand behind him and pulling his gun. “Listen, pal, how come you’re travellin’ alone with this dame?”
Joe hastily shifted his eyes., “I’m givin’ you a lift. That’s all that’ll interest you.” He reached forward to start the engine, but Hienie rammed his gun into his ribs.
“Hold it, lug,” he said viciously. “Spill it, or I’ll start somethin’.”
Joe shifted uneasily. “The nurse oughtta’ve come along, but she wanted to make the journey on the train with her boy friend. So I fixed it for them. It’s against regulations, but they knew the girl was safe with me.”
Hienie sneered. “What a yarn! Say, I could have cooked up a better tale in half the time. I’m on to you, hophead. This ain’t no nut wagon. You ain’t no nut hand—this is a snatch, ain’t that right?”
Joe’s eyes bulged. “You’re crazy.”
“That’s what you think. I’m goin’ to see what cherry-pie’s got to say.” He slid back the panel.
The girl still sat on the bunk. She was looking scared now. As soon as she saw him she said frantically: “Let me out! Please! I’m not mad! He keeps saying I am, but I’m not. Don’t you believe me—do I look mad?”
Hienie shook his head. “Keep your pants on, sister,” he said soothingly. “I just want a little talk with this guy here, an’ then you’ll be O.K. Take it easy. It ain’t goin’ to be long.” He slid back the panel and looked at Joe. “So what?” he said.
Joe flapped his hands. “Don’t listen to her,” he said feverishly. “Don’t I keep tellin’ you she’s nuts?”
Hienie sneered. “A dish as hot as that ain’t bugs,” he said. “Come on, lug, spill it. This dame ain’t crazy. Who is she? Who’re you workin’ for?”
Joe clutched his head. Sweat ran down his face, and his eyes rolled feverishly. “For Gawd’s sake don’t do anythin’,” he gasped. “I tell you she’s pullin’ a fast one. Don’t let her get away. I’ll lose my job.”
“Who is she?”
“Marie van Drutten. The banker’s daughter.”
“Listen, I’ve heard of that guy. He never had a nutty daughter, but he’s got a load of dough. What’s the ransom, buddy?”
“There ain’t any ransom,” Joe said earnestly. “Van Drutten’s hushing this up. He don’t want anyone to know she’s gone nuts. He’s given out she’s in Europe or some place. Now do you get it?”
Hienie half believed him. His mind began to work from another angle. “A mighty slick yarn. Listen, Joe, people don’t just go crazy. What’s it all about?”
Joe shook his head. “Gee! I can’t tell you that. It’d cost me my job.”
Hienie put some more weight on his gun arm. “You can either spill it or get out an’ walk. Suit yourself. If it sounds reasonable I’ll take off the heat and you can forget about this; but if you ain’t comin’ clean, I’ll take a chance an’ let the dame go—suit yourself.”
Joe groaned. “Don’t do that, I tell you she’s dangerous!”
“So is Sally Rand, so is Mae West, so what?” Hienie snarled. “Suit yourself, but you’re goin’ to walk if you 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 talking. He could feel her relaxing against his arm. “I’ve been a bum all my life. Maybe you wouldn’t understand what that means.” He shifted his hand, taking the weight of her breast.
She made a little face. “Now you’re being miserable,” she said, her full lips parting a little. Her long slender fingers gripped his wrist and pulled at his hand.
“Let it stay, baby, it feels good.”
She hesitated, keeping her eyes turned away from him, then her hand fell away. Hienie said thickly: “You’re a swell kid. Gee! You’re a swell kid!”
She moved her long legs restlessly. “You haven’t told me who you are,” she said. There was no interest in her voice.
Hienie reached down and put his hand under her knees. “I’ll show you how to be comfortable,” he said, swinging her legs off the ground, so that she was half sitting, half lying across his knees. He expected some resistance, but she lay limply, her hand hanging by her side. He thought, “It’s a push over.” “Ain’t this comfortable?” he said, leaning over her. Her head fell back, her eyes closed, she murmured something that he couldn’t hear. He pulled her to him roughly and mashed his mouth down on hers. Her mouth opened and he could feel her breath in his throat. Her arms encircled his neck and she began to moan softly.
His free hand slid over her silken knee, touched warm, smooth flesh, and then she suddenly gripped him, forcing her mouth against his until it hurt. He found it was difficult to breathe and he tried to move his head away, but she moved with him. He jerked his hand from her, trying to push her off, the blood drumming in his head. Her arms were encircling his throat like steel bands, cutting the air from his lungs. In a sudden panic, he began fighting, but he couldn’t shift her. Then lights began to flash before his eyes, and he was conscious that she was strangling him, and he couldn’t do anything about it.
Long after midnight, Joe and a State trooper found them. The State trooper stopped his car close to the ambulance and they climbed out.
“It looks like he’s beaten it,” Joe said, looking into the cab. He climbed in and glanced through the aperture. Then he said, “For God’s sake,” and almost threw himself out of the cab.
The State trooper looked at him. “What’s up?” he asked.
Joe pointed a shaky finger at the ambulance. “I warned him, but he wouldn’t believe me.”
The trooper pushed past him and climbed into the cab. He remained at the aperture for several minutes, then he got down slowly. He looked bad. “The poor bastard,” he said unevenly. “The poor bastard. Hell! She didn’t ought to have done that. I guess no dame ought to do that to any guy.” He spat in the road. “It’s the only fun some guys have got.”