“I had ironed most of the afternoon,” Laura Manion said, beginning on a nice domestic note. “Manny had got home from the firing point a little later than usual, about six o'clockâI mean the night of the shooting.” She was wearing slacks and a tight sweaterâI saw I'd have to speak to her about thatâand had drawn her legs up under her, sitting cross-legged, Indian fashion. “I think he'd stopped off at Barney's bar with some other officers and had a round or two of drinksâhe was sleepy and hungry.”
“Was he drunk?” I said.
“Oh, no, just so-soâjust relaxed, merely a pleasant glow.”
“I see,” I said. “Did you tell the police about that?âI mean about his sleepiness, about the pleasant glow?”
“I didn't tell them and they didn't ask me.”
“Very well,” I said. “Go on. I'll try not to interrupt unless I have to.”
Laura Manion went on with her story. Manny had taken a brief nap before dinner; then he had eaten; then he had taken another nap. Later he had awakened and asked for a highball, but there was no whisky in the trailer; then he had wanted some beer, but there was no beer. Laura Manion had suggested that they go visit Barney's bar but Manny had grunted and turned his face to the wall.
“And what were you doing all this time?” I said.
“Being frightfully bored,” she replied. “I hadn't been out of that damned trailer in over a week, except to shop. It was beginning to feel like a cell.”
“Cleopatra,” I thought. “Imprisoned Cleopatra chained to the ironing board of a mortgaged trailer.” There was something faintly incongruous in the picture. “Go on,” I said.
Manny had again fallen asleep. A full moon had swum up out of Lake Superior, sifting through the pines surrounding the trailer. It was a gorgeous summer night and for a time she had sat watching the shimmering lake. Laura had finally awakened Manny and told him she planned going to the bar at the hotel to get some beer. Would he like to go along? Manny had yawned and thought no, but said he might join her later. Then he had fallen asleep again. This time he had begun to snore. He had sounded, she thought, “like a missing outboard motor.”
Laura had listened to his snoring as long as she could and then she had called her little dog Rover and taken her flashlight and walked
up to Barney's hotel bar, taking the path through the woods. That was her regular route to town, much shorter than going by the road. She thought it had been shortly before nine o'clock, she couldn't exactly remember, anyway it was getting dusk. She must have got there in about ten minutes.
Barney's hotel bar was almost deserted, there were only a few customers, and those mostly locals. No, there were no Army people. There might have been a tourist or two. Oh, yes, the tourist park where the Manions stayed was quite full; it was that time of the year. “Tourists to the right of us; tourists to the left of us ⦠.” The only others in the bar were the bartender, whose name was Paquette, she thought, and a blonde waitress called Fem something or other, she wasn't quite sure of her last name, perhaps Malmquist or Youngquist, something like that. We certainly had some rather odd names up in this neck of the woods, didn't we?
“Yes,” I admitted. “Up here Smith is an odder name, however. And where was Barney Quill? Wasn't he there when you arrived?”
“No, he didn't appear until later. I ordered a highballâmy regular drink, a bourbon and tall waterâand then I went over and played the pinball machine.”
“Pinballl”
I said, recoiling in horror. Somehow or other I couldn't quite visualize this beautiful creature and pinball. “You played pinball?” I asked her incredulously.
She smiled, defiant in her waywardness. “I love to play pinball,” she said. “I guess I'm funny that way.”
“You share your neurosis with millions,” I said, shaking my head sadly. “Why there are even some people who love to square-danceâsquare-dance to hill-billy music sung through the left nostril. I have beheld it with these tired old eyes.”
“An Army wife has to find some way to pass her timeâand still stay an Army wife,” she said. “Anyway, I love it.”
“Go on,” I said wearily.
She had gone on playing pinball; there was no escape from it; more lights had lit, more bells had rung, still more colors and numbers had flashed and cascaded, the machine was wracked with more tremors and seizuresâand she had gone on playing pinball. Then Barney Quill had appeared quietly at her side and challenged her to a game for a drink. She had accepted his challenge and they had played and she had won the first game. Yes, Fern had served them their drinks over at the machine.
“This Barneyâwhat shape was he in?” I said. “How did he act?
Did he seem to be drunk? Did heâdid he make any kind of a play for you?”
“He appeared sober to me. And I must say he acted like a gentleman. In the place, that is. There was no suggestion of any play”âshe paused and smiledâ“and from long experience I think I've grown fairly sensitive to all the signs.”
“Yes, I suppose. Did the police ask you about this, too?”
“Yes. And I gave them the same answer, because it was true. He was friendly and courteous, no less and no more.”
“Go on,” I said. “When did you finally wrench yourself away from the hypnosis of pinball?”
She and Barney had played several more games. They had had some of their drinks at the bar. During the evening she had had three or four highballs; she was quite sure it was not more than four. No, she was not intoxicated, just feeling relaxed and enjoying herself, perhaps about like Manny had felt when he had come home for supper. Then she had noticed it was nearing eleven so she ordered her six-pack of beer and made ready to leave. It was then that Barney suggested that he drive her back to the trailer. Yes, he was still courteous but she had thanked him and declined, saying that with her flashlight and dog Rover she would make it all right walking.
Barney had then warned her that there were a lot of strange characters floating about the town at that time of the year and that he felt it was his duty to see the Lieutenant's wife safely home. And then he had mentioned the bears.
“Bears!” I said. First there was pinball, now there were bears. Little Laura and the three bears. “What bears?” I said.
“It seems that nearly every evening the black bears move in to scavenge the village and trailer-park garbage dumps. I remembered that Manny had mentioned seeing a bear one night while driving along the main road. Then I recalled that one of our soldiers had wounded one only the week before.”
“What did you do?”
“Well, by that time I was of half a mind to ride with him but I knew that Manny didn't like Barneyâor any man that was nice to me, for that matterâso I again declined and thanked him for the pleasant evening. I then went back to the rest room, back beyond the pinball machine, to tidy up so that when I was ready to leave I could slip out the side door of the bar without further notice.”
“I understand,” I said.
Laura Manion had lighted her flashlight when she emerged from
the rest room and given it to Roverâhe carried it in his mouth like a bone, it was his little trickâand she and Rover had slipped out of the side door as she had planned.
“What happened then?” I said.
Someone standing in the shadows had said “Psst!” and come forward. It was Barney. He had the motor of his car running and he again asked her to let him drive her home; once more he expressed his concern over the anonymous characters and the bears.
“What did you do?” I said.
“Well, it seemed frightfully dark outside after the brightly lit barroom. And, foolishly as it turned out, I was growing more afraid of possible strange bears than of any strange men. It also struck me as ungracious and rather insulting for me to continue to refuse him. It seemed much easier to let him drive me homeâit was so close. So I consented and Rover and I got in his car, Rover sitting between us with his flashlight.”
“Go on,” I said.
“Well, Barney drove down the main road to the regular car entrance to the trailer park. It's only a short way beyond the footpath I had taken earlier while coming to the hotel. When he turned in toward the tourist park I remember feeling a little silly for having refused a ride so longâfor there he was, driving me straight home, just as he had promised.”
“Proceed,” I said.
“There is a little stretch of heavily wooded road just before you get to the boundary of the tourist park, the main entrance. When we got there I saw a gate closed squarely across the road. I had never seen it before.”
“What happened then?”
“As I started to open the car door and thank him for driving me home he laid his hand on my hand or armânot forcibly, just lightly âand told me that he had forgotten that the caretaker locked the gate at night; that he knew of another little road into the park that had no gate and would not be closed; and there was no use in my getting all dusty going through the fence and walking the sandy road, he'd gladly take me the other way. With that he backed the car swiftly out to the main road and shot it into forward gear and drove away down the roadâin a direction still farther away from the hotel bar.”
“Up to that time had you felt any particular sense of alarm?”
“No, none whatever.”
“All right. Then what happened?”
“He drove rapidly down the road and then turned abruptly off the main road onto a strange narrow two-rut road to the right and away from the tourist park. That was the first time I had any feeling that things were not right. I said, âBarney, where are you going?' Instead of answering me he grabbed my arm, tightly this time, and kept driving furiously. I don't know how far we drove. Suddenly he stopped the bouncing car and turned out the lights. By that time I was thoroughly alarmed and I opened the door and tried to get out, but he dragged me back in. He was terribly strong. Then Rover the dog started to whine and Barney opened his door and threw him out. All the while he hadn't spoken a word. I couldn't see a thing, but I could hear Rover whimpering outside.”
“Go on,” I said.
“Then Barney got close up against me, very close, and said in a hoarse wild voice I could scarcely recognize that he was going to rape me.”
“He used that word?”
“That's the very word he used. Then he said I'd better come acrossâthat was also his expressionâor I'd never get out of the car alive. All the while he was pawing away at me, trying to get at me, and I was trying to fight him off.”
“Up to this time had you screamed?”
“No. I guess I sensed it was no use; it seemed like we were miles from anywhere; it was like being marooned in the middle of a jungle. And I was growing terribly afraid now that he might kill me, as he had threatened.”
“Go on.”
“All the while he kept clawing at me and beating me on the knees with his fists, a regular tattoo. I had my knees clamped together. I felt myself growing weaker. Finally I said: âIf you do this to me my husband will kill you.'”
“You told him
that?”
I said, wincing my eyes shut.
“Yes, I was getting desperate and I thought by saying that I might scare him off and bring him to his senses. And furthermore I meant it.”
This opened up certain glum vistas; vistas, I saw, that should mightily please an alert prosecutor. But now was no time to get into that. “What happened then?” I said.
“My saying that only seemed to make him worse, if anything. He laughed, if you could call it thatâit was a horrible cackling soundâ
and said Manny wouldn't have the guts to kill him; that he, Barney, was one of the best pistol shots in Michigan, in the Midwest, anywhere; that he was a whiz at Judo and I don't remember what all, and that he could take on a dozen Army guys like Manny with one arm tied behind his back. He ranted on like a madman. It seemed he was just about the best there was at anything.”
“Hm,” I said. “Interesting, very, very interesting. Go on.”
“I again said that if he did that to me Manny would kill himâwe were struggling all the time, rememberâand with that he suddenly crouched away from me and hit me with his fist. Hard. He swore at me. âTake that, you goddam Army slut!' is one of the things I remember he said. I almost lost consciousness. I felt something ripping as he tore off my panties. About all I can remember after that is that he kept clawing and beating away at my knees like a maniac. I was practically out. I could hear the dog whimpering and crying outside, scratching at the door.”
I was watching her closely during this recital. She did not sigh or weep or hesitate; rather she told her story as though she were trying faithfully to recount some bad dream. “And then what?” I said.
“Well, finally I knew he wasâwell, he had succeeded, he was getting his way.”