Patricia was trembling with eagerness. As Leonard undid the buttons and fumbled inside her shorts, she threw her head back and gasped. Her eyes, green and bright and staring, looked straight up. And that was my undoing. They focused straight on me. Patricia blinked once and screamed.
I scrambled to my feet, which was also a mistake. My ankle turned under me. I skidded forward and found myself sliding down the ladder. For a minute the three of us rolled around inside the tree-house in an impossible tangle of arms and legs.
Finally I managed to tear loose and darted for the platform outside. Leonard dived for me and was tripped up by the jeans‘ around his ankles. He managed to get a hand on me, though, and tripped me up. Patricia, her sweater still pushed up over her exposed breasts, had pulled a frond out of the tree-house wall and was flailing me over the head with it. “Murderer!” she screamed. “Murderer! ”
Was dear old George never going to stop haunting me? I pondered the question as I tried to stave off the two of them. They’d backed me to the edge of the platform now. Leonard—wisely— paused to pull up his jeans. I took advantage of his preoccupation to start to climb down the tree. But Patricia wasn’t willing to let bygones be bygones. “Murderer!” she screamed again, lunging for my face with long, well-honed nails.
Automatically I raised a hand to protect my precious profile. It latched onto Patricia’s wrist. She was caught off balance, and her weight descended on me. The two of us went slipping and sliding through the branches of the tree together, finally landing on the ground below.
Her sweater and shorts were badly ripped by the fall. They were in tatters, and the tatters weren’t doing much about covering her compact little body. One breast was exposed, and the opposite hip was sticking out nakedly in an interesting new style of bikini-wear. As I got to my feet, she backed away from me, still screaming like Fay Wray about to be Konged by the gorilla.
“Patricia. Are you all right? ” Leonard called from above.
“Help!” she replied. “Murder! Help!”
“Look here.” I tried to reason with her. “I’m not going to -” I broke off as I spied Leonard shinnying down the tree. He had what looked like a large club in one hand.
I bounced away. Yeah, I was real leap. I moved so fast, you might almost say I was vault!
The two jumps were one jump behind me. Youth was on their side. Their adrenal glands were definitely more hop than mine were. My mind recognized with a sigh that I was nothing but a crawl, and saw the impossibility of outdistancing them. The only leap thing to do was lose myself. So I made a beeline for the maze of hedges and managed to reach it before they could catch me.
The maneuver gave me a moment’s respite. I could hear them thrashing around in the maze as I caught my breath. “You go this way; I’ll go that way,” I heard Patricia say.
“Do you think we should separate?” Leonard replied. “He might be dangerous.”
“He is dangerous. He’s a murderer. But don’t worry, I’ll yell if I see him.”
Footsteps were getting closer now. I plunged deeper into the maze. As I turned and twisted through the hedges, I could appreciate how those rats must feel when they’re subjected to this sort of experiment. It wasn’t long before I had that real lost feeling, if you know what I mean.
There was no future there. That was for sure. I decided I’d better find my way out while Patricia and Leonard were still in the maze looking for me. But that was easier said than done. No matter which way I turned, I just seemed to get deeper into the complex of hedges. Then, to complicate my predicament, I heard footsteps approaching behind me.
I ran. The footsteps stayed right with me. No matter how I twisted and turned through the hedges, they seemed always right behind me. Then I made a sharp turn and fell right over Patricia.
“Murderer!” She screamed loud and long. “Help!” She started running away from me.
The footsteps were still behind me. Also, Leonard’s voice: “Pat! Pat, where are you?” I had no choice but to run off in the same direction Patricia had taken.
“Leonard, he’s chasing me!” she screamed over her shoulder.
“I’m coming, baby. Keep running.”
She kept running. I kept running. He kept running. ’Round and ’round we went, Patricia in the lead, me behind her, Leonard somewhere behind me. Then Patricia took an unexpected turn, I followed her, and Leonard’s footsteps receded behind us.
“Patricia?” he called plaintively. “Where are you, baby?”
“Murderer!” she hissed at me over her shoulder.
“You’ve got me wrong,” I panted, but it was no use.
Patricia took another turn. Again I followed. Suddenly I found myself out of the maze. She was sprinting for a gate between the hedges at the edge of the Quentins’ property. It wasn’t that I was following her, but it did seem the logical way to go if I wanted to get out of this mess.
“Patricia?” Leonard’s voice was a dim echo coming from the interior of the maze of hedges.
Patricia was through the gate now and out on the street. I followed.
“Help!” she called when she saw me appear. “Murder!” she called. “Police!” she bellowed.
I made the effort and caught up with her. “Now look here,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you. If you’ll just stand still a minute—”
“Help!” She tried to pull away. Somehow my ankle got between her feet, and she tripped and fell. She grabbed at me for support as she went down. Caught off balance myself, I fell on top of her.
“Help! Rape! Police! Rape!”
Wouldn’t you know she’d have to pick that moment to change her tune? Hearing a car coming up the street, I tried to cover her mouth with my hand so she wouldn’t be heard. She bit the hand and I jerked it away.
“Help! Rape!” she screamed again.
The car screeched to a halt at the curb. You guessed it. It was a police car. Two cops came bounding out with drawn pistols, dragged me off Patricia, and pulled me to my feet.
“Rape!” Patricia stammered incoherently.
The cops took in her torn clothing and the scratches and bruises she’d picked up during our wild gambol. Then they stared at my bleeding hand and disheveled clothing. “You degenerate bastard!” one of them said, slapping me open-handed across the face.
“He’s a murderer, too,” Patricia informed him helpfully.
“Whatta you got to say for yourself, you filthy creep?” the second cop asked.
“I’m not a creep,” I told him wearily. “I’m hop. I’m skip. I’m jump all the way!”
Hell, if you want to play games with the kids, you have to speak their language, don’t you? Isn’t that the living hop?
chapter EIGHT
“SO YOU SEE,” I finished explaining to Putnam, “far from raping this innocent young girl, I actually was responsible for preserving her virtue, for saving her from herself, from a fate worse than death, if you like.”
“I don’t like!” Putnam said firmly. “Your job is to find Anthony Bowdler Cromwell. So far you’ve managed to get involved in two murders, one assault, and an attempted rape. And I don’t see that you’re any closer to locating Cromwell than you were three days ago. Just what have you accomplished, Mr. Victor?”
“I’ve woo’d and won the lady of my double’s choice."
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m engaged to be married.”
“Congratulations. But you can’t let your personal life interfere with this case. It’s too important. If it’s going to get in the way, perhaps you should postpone the nuptials.”
“Can I quote you on that?”