The Ravagers Read Online Free PDF Page A

mattress.”
    “You have a few hours yet. The Drilling woman hardly ever hits the road before nine o’clock.” Elaine hesitated. Something in her attitude made me look at her sharply. She returned my look without expression, and patted the chenille spread on which she sat. “It’s a big bed,” she said.
    It was one of those funny moments. The atmosphere of the room changed abruptly. She met my look with one that was half defiant, half challenging.
    “It’s a lonely damn profession,” she said. I continued not to say anything. It was her party. She said, “Of course, if you’d rather not, okay. I mean, if you’re being true to a wife or girlfriend, far be it from me to lead you astray. And if you only sleep with girls with peach-blossom complexions—” She stopped there, watching me.
    I said, “And if I just happen to be tired from driving five hundred miles in eight hours? Those VWs aren’t designed for road racing, you know.”
    Something changed in her eyes, turning them dull and opaque, like slate. “Well, it’s as good an out as any,” she said evenly. “Pardon me for being forward. Check with me in Brandon this evening. In case you forget the name, it’s a town with a big provincial prison nearby. It’s about a day’s run east for Drilling unless she changes her driving habits drastically. Miss Elaine Harms. The Moosehead Lodge, Room 14. I’ll be waiting to hear from you. You’d better come up with the name of your principal and some good reasons for butting into this case. My chief isn’t fond of private interference.”
    “Threats, always the threats,” I said. I looked down at her and asked bluntly, “Did Mike Green ever get a similar invitation, and what was his response?”
    She sat very still, cross-legged on the bed. There was a brief pause before she answered. “Mr. Green liked dames with looks and class,” she said then, in a flat voice. “He wasn’t about to lay any pockmarked monkeys when there was better stuff to be had, end of quote. Well, at least he was honest. He didn’t say he was tired.” She grimaced. “Goodbye, Mr. Clevenger. I hope you have a good night’s rest. I’ll expect you in Brandon with lots of information.”
    I said, “You’re cute when you’re mad, but you’re prettier when you laugh.”
    She looked up. After a long pause she said warily, “You can skip the romantic approach. And don’t do the little girl any great big favors.”
    I said, “It’s hell what a man will do to avoid having to sleep in a leaky tent in the rain, isn’t it?”
    She smiled slowly. Her smile was as good as her laugh, kind of pert and young and impudent. “And it’s hell what a girl will do to keep from having to sleep alone, isn’t it?”

5
    When I came out of the bathroom, dressed, she was standing at the gray window looking at the street four stories below. She made a rather intriguing picture there, in the pale dawn light, since she was wearing only the white silk shirt that, somehow, we’d never got around to taking off her. It had been an impromptu come-as-you-are kind of performance, as love scenes go. I couldn’t help noting, as I crossed the room, that the improvised nightshirt wasn’t quite as long as it would have been, had it been designed for a sleeping garment in the first place.
    “Well, I’ll get in touch with you in Brandon,” I said, businesslike. I wasn’t quite sure what our relationship was supposed to be now.
    Elaine turned from the window to face me. After a moment she drew the rumpled shirt together in front and started to button it, more from a sense of tidiness, I gathered, than from any real feeling of modesty. There was, after all, no further reason for us to be modest with each other. She gave me a funny, wry smile.
    “I suppose you think I’m a cheap little tramp,” she said.
    I said, “A man can’t win around here. If he doesn’t sleep with you, he’s taking a slap at your appearance, and if he does, he’s maligning your