Dig A Dead Doll Page 3

  Outside the slaughter house, wind whistled up the slope of the hill and blew hair across my face. Dark clouds were gathering along the ridge of the sky, blotting out part of a full moon. We ran down the ramp to the taxi and climbed inside hurriedly.

  “Feels like rain,” Luis said. “Hey, where’s Pancho Villa?”

  “Who?”

  “The driver.”

  Luis leaped from the cab and looked around, holding the flashlight tautly in his fingers. The young man with the duck-tail haircut was nowhere in sight. Luis ran around the building, vanishing on the other side. For a few seconds I could hear his voice calling, “Pancho!” Then it faded away.

  I waited for what seemed an interminable length of time. Clouds skidded across the sky, darts of lightning flickered, thunder rumbled distantly. Finally, I got out of the car and cupped my hands to my mouth.

  “Luis!”

  There was no answer.

  Lightning split down through an ebony sky, touching two crooked orange shafts to the ground. Thunder jolted hard.

  “Luis!”

  I knew something was wrong even before I faced the empty silence that surrounded the grim, dark building. Luis had indicated that there would be danger. Now, for some reason, it seemed to be there, hanging over like the dark clouds, as mysterious as the thunder, as deadly as the lightning.

  I bent over and lifted the hem of my dress above my knees. Encircling my right thigh was a pink garter with a small holster attached. In the explosive glare of lightning I could make out the outline of my pearl-handled, Hi-Standard .22 caliber revolver. I removed it from its silken covering and began a slow circle of the building. Toward the rear were a number of corrals where livestock had been kept at one time. They were empty now. Or at least they seemed empty. Without a flashlight I could see only the upper part of the corrals. What, if anything, hid below the rim of the fences was anybody’s guess. I didn’t attempt to And out.

  That was my mistake.

  I crossed between the building and one of the corrals just as another bolt of lightning lit the sky boldly.

  On one of the fence posts, glaring down at me with all the ghoulish horror of Hades, was a grim, hideous skull, its eye sockets painted weirdly from behind by the heaven’s glow, its mouth grinning hollowly.

  I couldn’t stifle the scream that split my lips.

  But it was more than the skull that made me cry out. A cold, horribly boney hand came up through the mouth cavern and seized me by the throat. And in the next instant, another covered my face with a thick cloth.

  FOUR

  I was swinging. Upside down.

  Through a bluish-red film that clawed at my eyelids I came awake, blinking into a haze of orange light that wavered in a drenching torrent of rain.

  “She’s still alive,” a voice said distantly.

  “Good,” another answered. “Let her hang there until morning. Someone will cut her down.”

  “What if they don’t, Zingo?”

  “Then she will probably die. Which is what she deserves for meddling. Come, Punta Punta.”

  They brushed past me, two formless figures wearing dark coats and hats, shuffling toward the orange lights. Then one of them stopped to look back at me.

  “She is a formidable woman, Zingo. Exotic body. Mind of steel. Look at how she hangs there. Does it not stir your loins.”

  The other grunted. “Come!”

  Wind swung me around and I lost sight of them. The sound of car doors clanged. An engine burst into life and wheels dug into gravel. The orange lights swung away and faded as the car disappeared in the night.

  Rain streamed down my body, filling my eyelids. Only then, as the curtain of confusion began to part in my fuzzy, cluttered mind, did I sense what had happened. I was tied upside down by my ankles to a tree. In the wet darkness I could see a gnarled leafless branch bowed out from a stubby trunk, a rope twisted from the limb, lashed about my legs. My arms dangled limply, fingertips nearly touching the sloping ground. Blonde hair tangled wetly in the rain and wind. My head pounded.

  I lost consciousness again for an instant, felt myself coming back, as blood throbbed in my brain.

  Then came the sound of another automobile. Its headlights swept by, an arc of silver-white in the rain, cutting into my eyelids. Brakes squealed, skidding the car to a stop, engine running. A voice erupted.

  “Hey, what’s the matter with you, Jay?”

  Another lifted angrily. “Shut up, Bass. I thought I saw something down in that hollow off the road.”

  “Saw what?”

  “I—I don’t know. It looked like a naked dame hanging from a tree.”

  Laughter broke. “You’re drunk. Get back in the car.”

  “No, Bass, I’m going down there and see what that was.”

  Laughter again, drunken and twisted. “Jay. they told us naked dames grow on trees down here. What de you want?”

  A car door slammed. Shoes crunched on gravel, sliding a little as they came downhill. A figure loomed in the rain, stopped about five feet away and just stood for a second staring. “Bass!”

  “What?”

  I couldn’t distinguish his face, which was partially covered by a hat, but his teeth glinted in the scant glow cast by the headlights. “Something’s wrong down here! Something’s really wrong!”

  More sounds emanated from up on the road. “Oh, all right!”

  In a moment, a second man joined the other, a barrelchested figure in a hat and coat.

  “Holy geehosifats!” breathed the newcomer. “It really is a naked dame. And a looker. Is she dead?”

  “I can’t tell. Get a knife out of the trunk. Quick!”

  The man named Bass ran up the gravel path to the road, crunching loudly. The other one stooped beside me and lifted my shoulders. I couldn’t speak, the throbbing was so intense. My eyes blinked in the downpour. He could see that I was alive.

  “Easy,” he said. “Easy, you’re going to be all right. Bass! Hurry with that knife!”

  Bass came pounding into view, reached up with his huge frame and began cutting through the rope which held me. When I was loose, they carried me up to their car and placed me gently in the rear seat, tossing a blanket over my chilled, wet body.

  The one named Jay bent over me and asked, “Are you hurt bad, lady?”

  “I don’t know,” I answered, and passed out again.

  A lantern swung over my head, swaying back and forth.

  I looked up quickly, shooting a glance toward another light over my right shoulder. Standing over a small stove was the big, heavy-set man, scrambling eggs in a skillet with one hand, clutching a can of beer with the other. He wore a cowboy hat and his thick-cheeked face was unshaven. “Hey,” I said. My voice sounded weak.

  “Hey, hey,” he echoed, turning toward me. An apron, too small for his large frame, rode clear up under his chin. “We were wondering when you were going to wake up. How do you feel?”

  “Like I’ve been hung by my heels. Where’s your friend?” He gestured. “The car. Putting away his medical kit.”

  “He’s a doctor?”

  Bass flipped the eggs and laughed. “Yep. One of the best this side of the Mississippi. You were lucky we came along.”

  I studied the ceiling. It was low and curved sharply at both sides. “Where—where am I?”

  “Our trailer,” he answered. “We’re parked near Rosarito Beach. You know where that is, don’t you?”

  “I think so.”

  “About twenty miles south of Tijuana. Or about five miles from where we found you.” He scooped up the eggs and slid them onto a dish. “My name’s Bass. Bass Summit. I’m a dentist.”

  “Thanks for extracting me from that tree, Doc.”

  “No trouble at all. In fact, I kind of enjoyed it—” he caught himself and blushed. “I—I mean—”

  I examined the blanket over me. “Was I completely—” He pursed his lips. “No. You were wearing—I mean are wearing—a pair of lace panties.”
r />   “Nothing else?”

  He shook his head.

  “Not even a garter?”

  “Nope.”

  The other man entered the trailer, swinging the door closed quickly and brushing rain from his face and shoulders. He was a pleasant-looking fellow with butched blond hair and deep, sensitive eyes. He seemed the quiet, well-mannered type of man who usually has offices in an expensive building and plays golf every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon without fail. A deep scar over one eye twitched as he looked at me.

  “I’m Jay Hook,” he said, linking his fingers together. “How are you feeling?”

  I smiled thinly. “Now I know how a lamb feels waiting for the slaughter.”

  Bass tossed some sliced potatoes into the skillet and took a long draught of his beer. “She just woke up, Jay. Hasn’t said anything yet about—”

  „ “I guess you’re wondering what I was doing out there,” I said. “First, maybe you’ll tell me how I stack up medically.”

  Dr. Hook grinned, wiping a few raindrops from his cheek. “Pretty well. Medically and otherwise.” He offered me a cigarette, a twinkle in his eyes. “As far as I can see you’re in good shape. Except for a couple of raw places on your ankles from the ropes, I’d say you’ll live—for quite a long time.”

  “You wouldn’t be willing to guarantee that?” I asked, jokingly.

  “Hardly,” he said, glancing at Bass. “Not with old Bassingham at the fry pan. This may be your last meal. Hey, what’s holding up the grub department? Our patient must be starved.”

  “Coming right up,” Bass said. “How do you like your bacon, hon—say what is your name anyhow?”

  “You almost had it!”

  “Not Honey?”

  “That’s right. Honey West.”

  Jay Hook snapped his fingers. “Hey, I’ve read about you. You’re a private detective.”

  “Right again.”

  Bass laughed. “No kidding? I didn’t think there was such a thing as a female variety except in paperback books or TV.”

  The blond doctor drew up a’ chair near the bunk where I lay, and asked, “Is that why you were strung up in that hollow?”

  “Partly,” I said. “Mostly, it was curiosity which almost killed this cat.”

  While Bass finished cooking the bacon, I told them the story of Honey West in Mexico during the past twelve hours: the bullfights, the goring of Pete Freckle, the taxi ride out to the slaughter house, the hand reaching through the skull’s mouth. They shook their heads on that last bit.

  Big Bass took off his cowboy hat and mopped sweat from his forehead. Then he whistled long and loud. “Honey, if I were you I’d get out of Mexico so fast your head would swim.”

  I smiled. “Doc, how- far can a gal get in a pair of lace panties?”

  Rubbing his forehead, Jay Hook said, “What happened to the cab driver and this—this Luis fellow?”

  “I have no idea,” I said. “They may be hanging by their necks—inside that slaughter house.”

  Bass touched his throat with thick hands. “These people —whoever they are—don’t play ring around the rosy, do they?”

  Jay stood up slowly and lit a cigarette, then said, “Just what do you think happened to your friend Pete Freckle— the matador?”

  “There again,” I said, shaking my head, “is something I can’t answer. The bull gored him twice—very violently. What happened after that, I don’t know. Luis told me a picador saw Pete talking when they carried him into the dressing room. But why did they dispose of the body so quickly? And in the same truck with the dead bulls?”

  Bass scooped bacon on the plate and Banded it to me.

  “Honey,” he said tautly. “Get out of Mexico. I don’t know you, or your family, or your friends, or probably anybody you know, but take my advice and get out while you can.”

  “That makes sense,” Jay added. “You sound like you’re mixed up in real trouble. I wouldn’t fool with it, even if Freckle had been my brother and I was Man Mountain Dean.”

  “Thanks for *he advice,” I said, digging into breakfast hungrily. “But there’s one other thing to consider.”

  “What’s that?”

  “How would I look crossing the border wearing what I’m not wearing?”

  “We can fix that,” Bass said. “Just tell me your size and I’ll drive over to San Diego this morning for anything you need. Where’d you park your car?”

  “Across the street from Las Tunas Hotel.”

  “Okay,” Bass said, “after I get some clothes, we’ll drive you to your car and then follow until you’re safely across the border.”

  “You’re going to an awful lot of trouble,” I said, leaning on one elbow. “How will I ever be able to repay you?” Jay Hook smiled, a quiet smile filled with meaning. “You’ve already paid us, Honey. We were having a pretty dull time until you came along. Two vacationing bachelors can get mighty tired of a steady diet of beer, bait and badgering.”

  “You mean you haven’t even looked at a woman?”

  “Oh, we’ve looked,” Bass said, cleaning out the skillet. “The trouble is they looked back. Some of them are— Well, we lost our appetites after a while.”

  “That is until we saw you,” Jay added. “We ought to apologize, but I’m afraid we couldn’t help looking—and to tell you the truth it wasn’t entirely professional either.”

  I shook my head at them as if they were two naughty boys. “That wasn’t exactly ethical.”

  “We’re not very ethical guys,” Bass said, slipping a jacket over his large frame. “Listen, it’s going on eight o’clock. By the time I get to San Diego the shops ought to be open. What would you like me to get, Honey?”

  “I think a blouse and skirt would be the best solution— something simple and unobtrusive. And if you wouldn’t mind, I could use a lipstick and comb. A gal has to keep up appearances!”

  He winked. “I don’t think you have any worries on that score. What size do I ask for?”

  I wrapped the blanket closer around me and sat up. “I don’t know if they use U.S. sizes down here. Just give the clerk my measurements, thirty-eight, twenty-two, thirty-six. That should do it.”

  Bass whistled. “That should do it is right! Honey, you’re a blonde doll—and not the five-and-ten type either. See you later.” He vanished through the trailer door.

  After Bass was gone the blond doctor kept studying me, dragging hard on his cigarette, shoulders tensed. He was extremely edgy, the type prone to ulcers and high rent districts.

  “Well,” I said, breaking the silence, “you know just about everything there is to know about me. Now what about you?”

  His expression didn’t change. “Specialist in internal medicine, graduate of the University of Southern California, M.D., LL.D., A.D.F.U.C.C.”

  “Quite a list,” I said. “What’s that last?”

  “A Damned Fool Under Certain Circumstances.”

  “Aren’t we all?” I offered.

  “I’m a specialist,” he said, crushing out his cigarette. “Like now. If I wasn’t such a damned fool I wouldn’t be standing here.”

  “Doc, you wouldn’t take advantage of a lady.”

  “Oh, wouldn’t I?”

  “I’m a judo expert.”

  “So am I.”

  “I can run fast.”

  “I can run faster.”

  “I’m not kidding, Doc.”

  “Neither am I.”

  He moved toward me slowly.

  “Now look, Doc!”

  “I am looking. I think I’d better test your heart.”

  “Doc!”

  “You might have strained it hanging out there like that.” I gripped the blanket tightly. “I’ll report you to the Medical Association!”

  “Please do, they’ve been begging me to make more heart examinations.”

  “You haven’t got an electrocardiograph!”

  “Mine is built in.”

  “I’ll bet!”

  He stop
ped. “Okay, I’ll make you a deal. Let’s go for a swim.”

  “No! I have no suit.”

  He reached inside a cabinet under the sink and removed two large hand towels. “Look. A bikini.”

  “You’re not serious?”

  “Of course I am. Look, these work perfectly.”

  He folded one of the towels into a triangle and pinned the corners together diaper-fashion. “Now, slip into this, tie the other towel around the top of you and you’ve got it made.”

  “Doc,” I said, unable to overcome the smile that edged into my mouth, “that wouldn’t begin to cover me.”

  “Try it for size.”

  “I’m not Little Lulu.”

  “Try it!”

  He said it appealingly, like a little kid begging his freckle-faced girl friend to go swimming with him. At least, he was providing me with something cooler than a blanket. And an early morning swim in this heat sounded like a great idea.

  “Okay,” I said, in that impulsive way that often gets me into more trouble than I need. “Are you going to join me?”

  “Of course!” he said, grinning. “There’s a beautiful white beach outside and not a soul around for five miles.”

  He grabbed his swim trunks from a suitcase and vanished out the door. “I’ll give you five minutes, then I’m coming in,” he warned.

  I tried the lower half first. Over the skimpy lace panties they fit none too snugly, but a tighter pinning job secured the ends to my hips. My navel peeked over the fold of the towel. The top part was the real problem. No matter how I arranged the darned thing it still came out lewd as the devil. I finally settled on an arrangement which was about 55-45 in favor of cover over nudity. Whether it would hold for a dip in the ocean was another matter. But it was hot and I looked forward to that swim.

  By the time I emerged from the trailer the good doctor was already in his suit. He took one look and issued a long gasp. So long I thought sure he was going to collapse.

  “Honey, you are the most spectacular creature I have ever met, barring none. And that outfit doesn’t damage the illusion one iota.”

  “Thank you kind sir, she said.” I raced down the sand to the water. It was already early-morning-hot, a heat peculiar to Baja California. The kind that moves in off the ocean with quiet deadly ferocity.