Cover-Up Story by Marian Babson Page B

Gerry and me.
    â€˜Come upstairs!’ The velvet gloves were off, and the whiplash of command was in his voice. Little Brother was exercising his authority – with a sudden vengeance. ‘Both of you. I want to talk to you.’
    Sam slammed the door of his room on us as soon as we were inside and whirled on us. On me. ‘Are you crazy?’ he demanded. ‘What the hell do you mean, dragging a kid like that near Bart? Are you trying to start trouble?’
    â€˜What does he mean, “a kid like that” ?’ Gerry caught the air of belligerency. ‘What’s the matter with Penny? She’s a nice kid.’
    â€˜I think that’s what he means.’ A lot of things were beginning to come clear, and I didn’t like the shape of any of them. ‘Sam, suppose you put us in the picture. All the way in.’
    â€˜Have a drink.’ It was surrender. He was in no position to keep up the boss routine. Sam brought out a bottle of bourbon and poured stiff ones. He didn’t bother with water in his.
    â€˜What’s this all about?’ Gerry dumped the camera equipment on the bed and accepted his drink with suspicion.
    â€˜How old is that Penny kid?’ Sam asked.
    â€˜Fifteen.’
    â€˜Jesus!’ He shuddered and gulped at his bourbon. It did nothing to alleviate the greenish tinge which was creeping back into his face. ‘How soon do they throw them into the labour market over here, anyway?’
    â€˜School leaving age is fifteen. Penny is going to business college and working part-time for us. As you’ve probably gathered, the business isn’t flourishing quite well enough to run a full-time secretary.’
    Sam shook his head, and waved away the reference to balance sheets. They were the least of his worries at the moment. ‘Jesus!’ he said again.
    â€˜Sam,’ I said, ‘tell us.’
    He tried his favourite trick of gazing into space, but there was no escape there any longer. His eyes wavered and met mine with a sick expression. But it was time to be relentless.
    â€˜Bart,’ I prodded. ‘You’ve had trouble with him before?’
    Sam nodded weakly.
    â€˜Perhaps that’s the real reason for this unscheduled English tour, with no advance publicity?’
    Sam nodded again.
    â€˜Obviously, you two know what you’re talking about,’ Gerry said plaintively, ‘but do you think you could let me in on this meeting of minds?’
    â€˜I think the Client likes little girls,’ I said. ‘Too much.’
    â€˜What do you mean?’ Gerry wasn’t usually so obtuse, but I couldn’t blame his mind for boggling.
    â€˜Jailbait!’ Sam turned on him. ‘Lolitas. San Quentin Quail. Under-age,’ he spelled it out, ‘so that, even if they say they consented, it’s still statutory rape.’
    â€˜In short,’ I repeated, ‘the Client is a child molester. Female children.’
    Gerry reeled, but rallied. ‘How very different,’ he murmured weakly, ‘from the home life of our own dear queans.’
    â€˜And the real reason for this sudden urge for Olde Worlde culture?’
    â€˜He got away from us on that New England tour.’ Sam was a defeated man. ‘Hell, we couldn’t chain him up. And that stupid lug couldn’t get it into his head that there was a difference between the daughter of a New England doctor and the daughter of some Southern sharecropper. Instead of Big Daddy striding round with the horsewhip, ready to be bought off, the Yankee yelled for the law. The Agency is doing its best to come to some settlement, but I’ve orders to keep Bart over here until they succeed in quashing the indictment.’
    â€˜No wonder they decided Lou-Ann was a better bet for stardom.’ I was feeling a bit sick. ‘Or is there something wrong with her, too?’
    â€˜What the hell do you mean by that?’ That brought Sam to his feet