Джонатан Крейг - Manhunt. Volume 1, Number 12, December, 1953

“My time is money,” she said. “Talking or otherwise.”

“Come on up to my cabin,” I said.

She looked at me steadily for a few moments. “I’m busy right now,” she said.

“How much will it cost to unbusy you?”

“Five for my loss, and another five for my time. What we do with it is up to you.”

“Get rid of your playmate,” I said. “I’ll be in the cabin.”

“Give me five minutes,” she said. Then she smiled archly and stroked my cheek. She moved closer, thrusting her hips forward. “I’ll be right up, darling.”

I moved, away from her, and watched her turn back on the path and head for one of the darkened cabins. I was beginning to get some inkling of the kind of place good old Zachary Hobbs ran. Cabins for couples, no questions asked. Also, cabins for men, complete with hot and cold running blondes, brunettes, and red...

Redheads. I wondered if there were any redheads in his crew. Or was he trying to... No, he couldn’t be that stupid. I mean, even assuming the local police were in his pocket, he couldn’t hope to get away with abducting Anne for his own particular purposes. No, that was out. Still...

I mulled it over, walking to my cabin. I watched seven minutes march across the face of my wrist watch, and then the brunette came back. She opened the door, closed it quickly, and then opened the robe.

“Keep it on,” I said. “I’m paying for talk.”

“Let’s see the color,” she said.

I dipped into my wallet and came up with a sawbuck, handing it to her. She folded it, and then looked around for a place to put it. There were no pockets in the robe, and there were no pockets in what she had under the robe, because she didn’t have anything under that.

She held the folded bill in her closed fist. “All right,” she said. “Let’s talk.”

“Where’d you get the robe?”

“I told you. It’s mine.”

“Where’d you buy it?”

“Who remembers? In town.”

“It was bought in a joint called Andre’s in Greenwich Village. Look at the label. Where’d you get it?”

“Why? What’s so damn important about it?”

“I’m curious.”

“All right, it was given to me.”

“Who gave it to you?”

She hesitated.

“Come on, who gave it to you?”

“Zach,” she said quickly.

“How long have you been working in this floating bordello?” I asked.

“A while.” She paused and eyed me skeptically. “You a cop?”

“Do I look like a cop?”

“No. It don’t matter, anyway. Cops don’t bother us.”

“How come?”

“Ask Zach. I just work here.”

“Who told you to come down to my cabin this morning?”

“I already answered that one,” she said.

“Sure. Now give me the right answer.”

“Zach did. He said you were needing.” She slipped the robe off her shoulders and came closer to me, hugging it around her waist so that only the white mounds of her breasts were exposed. “Was he right?”

“I’m partial to redheads,” I said.

The girl shrugged. “We split it all anyway. You want a redhead?”

“Have you got one?”

“Sure. I’ll ask Zach to send her down.” She paused. “You’re making a mistake, though.”

“Am I?”

“She’s new, just came in yesterday. You’re making a mistake.”

“As the old maid said when she kissed the cow, ‘It’s all a matter of taste.’ ”

“All right,” the brunette said. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll talk to Zach.” She pulled the robe up over her shoulders, and then she left, wiggling her fanny so I’d know just how big a mistake I was making.

I waited for ten minutes, not sure of what I was going to do, but figuring there might be a connection between Zach’s redhead and Anne. When the knock sounded on the cabin door, I called, “Come in, it’s open.”

The door swung wide, and I was a little surprised because I was expecting a redhead. I was more surprised because the woman was blonde and she was wearing a black silk dress that was slit down the front almost to her navel. I remembered what the guy at the bus terminal had said. A blonde in a black dress.

“Come in,” I said.

She stepped into the cabin, spotted my cigarettes on the dresser, and walked to them quickly, using a loose-hipped gait. She shook a cigarette free from the pack, lighted it, and blew out a wreath of smoke. She hesitated a moment, and then said, “Marie told Zach you want a redhead.”

“That’s right,” I said. I didn’t tell her the redhead I wanted was Anne.

“Zach says he’s sorry, but we ain’t got any.”

I looked at her curiously. “The girl said...”

“Marie just works here. There ain’t no redheads.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“They call me Bunny,” she said.

I looked at her steadily, and she added, “Zach says I’m not for hire.”

“I didn’t ask,” I told her.

“Just in case you were going to.” She sucked in another cloud of smoke, and her breasts bunched against the wide split in the top of her dress. “Why don’t you go home to your wife, Mac?”

“My wife walked out,” I said, playing my little part in the drama.

“A redhead, huh?”

“Sure.”

“You can always tell. Taste always follows the same.”

“Is that how you can tell?”

“Sure. How else?”

“I thought maybe you’d seen her.”

“Nope.” She sucked on the cigarette again. “So, can we do business?”

I smiled wryly. “Honey,” I said, “how could I settle for anything less than you?”

She didn’t smile back. She considered this for a moment, and then said, “That might be arranged, too.”

“I thought...”

“Anything can be arranged if you know the right people.”

“And you’re the right people?”

“Right as rain.”

“And good old Zach? What about him?”

“What about him? He’s asleep already.”

“Was he asleep when you went to the bus terminal?”

Bunny blinked her eyes. “Who went to the terminal?”

“I thought you did.”

“You thought wrong. Are you in the market or not? I’m busy.”

“I’ll bet you are. Let me think it over. I’ll let you know.”

“All right. I’m in Three, if you want me.”

“And Zach?”

“He sleeps in the office,” Bunny said. She paused and then added significantly, “With his pictures.”

“I’ll let you know.”

She went out, and I thought, Hell, there must be a million blondes in black dresses. Black is a good color for blondes. Besides, this is a small town. Wouldn’t the clerk have recognized a native? Yes, unless Bunny wasn’t a native. In a business life Hobbs’, there are probably a lot of imports. I took off my robe, dressed quickly, and left the cabin. There was a pay phone near the office, but I avoided it and headed for the boardwalk. It was uncluttered, with the crowds beginning to thin out.

I passed the Pokerino setup, and then walked back when I saw a phone booth tucked into one corner of the joint. I got the operator, gave her our city phone number, deposited the coins, and listened to the phone ringing. I let it ring twenty-two times, and then I gave up. Anne wasn’t there.

There was only one question remaining.

Where was she?

I walked up the boardwalk, and I tried to sort the important from the unimportant. I knew I should go to the police, but I figured they were all sewed up on Hobbs’ side. They’d have to be. I thought of calling the state police, but by the time they arrived... No. I was here. Right on the spot. I knew everything that had happened. All right, so what was important?

The terminal clerk had remembered Anne — if she was Anne — and the blonde. That was important. They certainly weren’t trying to hide the fact that they were taking her out of town.