William Davis - Blackmailed

Jay Ballard watched the provocative sway of Karen's luscious figure, his eyes devouring the soft, rounded protuberances of her buttocks, as she turned away from his desk and went through the connecting door to the outer office, to usher in a prospective client.

The sexuality that Miss Forrester exuded reminded him, acutely, that he'd have to get to know her better… and soon, if things in the bedroom department at home didn't begin getting better, in the next few days.

Karen was just finishing up her first week as his private secretary, and she seemed to like her job. He wondered, idly, if she'd like her job better… if he could offer her some attractive fringe benefits…

His reverie was interrupted by the young giant who came through his office door. The boxer was even bigger, it seemed to Jay, than when he'd witnessed the man's last bout.

It had taken place last week, at the Olympic. Jay had been there, in the fifth row, watching Arnie Pearson, fighting at a trim two hundred and thirty-five pounds, as he had out-pointed and out-fought his opponent, decking him twice, before finally putting him away, decisively, in the ninth round with a clean knock-out. Jay remembered it had been Arnie's devastating left hook that had put BoBo Wilson on the canvas for the full count.

The fight had been clean. BoBo Wilson had been the odds on favorite, but Pearson, knowing that he was fighting one of the most important fights of his career, had carried the fight, pressingly, to the older, ring-wise Wilson… and had won it, fair and square. No one questioned that he was now in a good position to demand a bout with the Champion. Arnie Pearson was now the principal contender for the Heavyweight Boxing Title.

"Arnie!" Jay was out of his seat, extending a lean, sun-bronzed hand in greeting. "It's good to see you… but aren't you out of your element… coming to see me…?"

A slow, friendly smile spread across the big fighter's heavy-featured face; his deep-set, widely spaced, blue eyes were troubled. His gaze was direct, as he studied the private investigator's face. He took the seat Jay pointed to and sat up ramrod straight in it, his body tense, unrelaxed.

"Well, Mr. Ballard… I haven't been robbed of the family jewels… yet…" he joked, lamely, his face settling into grim lines.

Jay laughed, heartily, while Arnie grinned, now, shyly, pleased that he, at least, appeared to be light-hearted. The detective surveyed the blonde giant across the desk from him and knew he could like this man. There was that easy-going directness about him… and there was the demonstrated ability to remain cool and collected, under stress. He had shown that several times in some thirty professional bouts.

"I saw your last fight… with BoBo Wilson…" Jay mentioned, trying to feel out the reason for the boxer's visit to his office.

"That's great… I'm awfully glad you did. It was a hard fight all the way… believe me! Wilson's a good man… a good fighter… hard to beat… one of the best in the business!" Arnie said. "… But, according to some people… I was supposed to lose that fight!"

"Well… I don't think Wilson had a chance… from the opening bell… even if he was favored, by the bettors!" Jay told him. "You were in good condition… and you were right in there, every round… carrying the fight to him… putting on the pressure…"

"Thanks… Mr. Ballard… but I'm…"

"Just call me Jay…" the detective interrupted.

"Okay… Jay, then…" He showed obvious tension at being interrupted. "… But as I was saying… I'm talking about people… that wanted me to lose it… on purpose!" Arnie got it out. His face was unsmiling, his big, square jaw set.

"You mean… somebody wanted you to throw that fight?"

"Yeah… that's it!"

"… But that doesn't make sense! BoBo was the man to put money on…! Why would anybody want you to take a nosedive…?" Jay queried.

Arnie looked down at his sinewy hands. He balled them into hard fists, before he looked back up at Jay, his intense blue eyes looking directly into Jay's brown ones.

"That's what bothered me, too… but afterwards, when I started thinking about it… it does make sense… if they had BoBo tied up… and he were the contender, instead of me…!"

Rubbing both hands up over his greying temples, Jay thought about it. "If I follow you… what you're saying is they, whoever that is… are looking forward to the next Championship fight!"

"It figures… if they've got the title-holder tied up… too… doesn't it?" Arnie spat his words out fast, wanting confirmation of what he thought about it.

"Christ… do you know what you're saying…?" Jay questioned.

"I sure as hell do! I'm the question mark… because they couldn't get to me!" Arnie shot back. "… And, now I'm ruining their plans for a real killing on the title bout!"

"You mean they tried to buy you off, somehow?"

"Yeah… but I won't take their filthy money!"

"Now, they're threatening you…?"

"… And… blackmailing me!"

Jay whistled, thoughtfully, and asked, "… So, why are you coming to me…? The police could give you protection… and the Boxing Commission could look into the bribe attempt… and blackmail doesn't work, usually…"

"Yeah… but they've got pictures… that could ruin my marriage!" The fighter looked away, temporarily, feeling the guilt return to surge through him.

"So… that's it! They set you up… and got it all on film?"

"Well, hell… it was right after the fight! I was at this party… and met a girl… and… well, you know… one thing leads to another… and she takes me to bed!" Arnie defended.

"I understand all that… but where was your wife, Arnie?"

"She didn't come out here… for the fight," the big man explained. "She doesn't want me to fight… anyway…"

There was a long silence. Jay was digesting information, and he did understand, perfectly, how he had fallen into the trap.

Arnie went on, explaining further, "My trainer's kind of old-fashioned, you know… and whenever I go into training… I've got to live almost like a monk… for maybe two months before every fight. Hell… about the only thing left is a hand-job… every now and then!"

"If your wife were around… you couldn't have had her anyway… is that it?"

"Yeah… for all practical purposes!"

Jay nodded, still thinking. "Now," he said, "we've got to pin something down. You keep saying, 'they'… and you haven't told me who 'they' are!"

There was a moment's hesitation on Arnie's part, before he said, morosely, "That's just it… I don't know who the hell it is! If I did," he went on ominously, "maybe I could do something about it!" His big hands clenched and unclenched, with his emotion.

"Is that where I come in, then…? You want me to find out who's putting the pressure on you?"

"Yeah… that's right… that's why I came to see you, because I've only had some goons… with guns… come around… with their threats… and…"

"… And, the pictures…?"

"Yeah…"

"Let's start there, then… tell me about this gal you balled… everything you can remember about her… where you met her… where you went… what you did… and especially, the place you went… to climb into bed with her!"

Arnie Pearson was game. He told Jay Ballard everything he could remember about that night.

p(line).***

It had been jubilant and hectic in Arnie's dressing room, right after the fight. Frantic fans had crowded into his dressing room to congratulate him, and it had taken a long time to clear the room, so he could get his rub-down and get dressed.

There had been, perhaps, as many as ten invitations to parties… and Arnie was not sure how it had happened that he ended up going to a posh party in Newport. Maybe it was because of the woman who had given him the invitation. She had pressed in close to him, as he had backed into his dressing room, trying to answer news reporters' questions and being filmed for a T.V. news release. Flash bulbs had been popping, and the noise had been tremendous, the press of the crowd almost unbearable… but she had stuck with him, shouting in his ear about her party and pressing a piece of paper into his still bandaged hands. That wasn't the only message he had gotten from her. She had been busy, down below, as she had undulated up against him, her loins tight against his thigh. It was an invitation that had been hard to pass up… after all he had been pretty hard up… and when a voluptuous woman makes it that plain… Hell! What could he do…?