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in protective custody ... But, hell ... she might not testify against Ramsey ... and if it ever come out in
court how I got my information from her ... there'd be hell to pay ... as far as I'm concerned! So, if she
wants to play in the big time ... she'll just have to take her chances!
Arnie would have to be told what he'd found out, so far, but the case was still a long ways from being
settled. He'd have to have a lot more to go on, before he could take it to the police.
Remembering that the heavyweight fighter was going into L.A. to work out and probably wouldn't be
home until late in the afternoon, Jay headed for the air-conditioned comfort of a bar to refresh himself
and kill some time, before looking up Arnie's new address.
At about a quarter after six, Jay found the new apartment complex, walked up a flight to the number
Arnie had given him, pushed the doorbell and waited, humming a tuneless popular song to himself.
The door opened. He recognized her, instantly. Joan! The other woman ... in Carla's place! He stared at
her hard.
"Joan ...?"
"You!" She started to slam the door in his face.
"Wait!" Jay said, holding the door back. "Are you ... Joan Pearson ...
Arnie Pearson's wife ...?"
"What difference would that make?" Again, she struggled to close the door. He saw that she had been
crying.
"Wait ... Joan ... let me explain ...?" he implored. "I'm a friend of Arnie's ... and I have to see him."
"He isn't here!" Joan snapped. "Goodbye!"
"Look ... Joan, it was just an accident ... or a horrible coincidence ... that you came into Carla's
apartment ... and it just happened! You know that ... don't you?"
"Oh, p-please ... just go away ...!" she sobbed, tears starting into her eyes, again.
"I've got a pretty good idea ... of why you went there ..." he began.
"That'd be none of your ... b-business!"
"Carla's just like a lot of other prostitutes ... you know ..."
Joan stared at him, unbelieving. "P-Prostitute ...?"
"Yes ... didn't you know?"
Mutely, she shook her head in negative disbelief.
"Anyway ... she's a man-hater ... and gets her real kicks with other women!" he explained. "... And, I
gather ... you and she had a thing going ... and ... and I just happened to be there ... as a ... customer!"
"Oooh, No!" Joan moaned, covering her face with both hands and turning away to slump into an
overstuffed chair near the door.
Jay came to stand beside her. Looking down at her pitiable figure, he said, "Arnie'll never have to know
... about her ... or me ... if that's the way you want it. It'll be our secret!"
"Oh, God ... I'd just die ... if Arnie ... ever ... f-found out!"
"He won't ever known he promised.
"Really ...?" Joan looked up at him gratefully through streaming eyes.
"Really! Just tell Arnie I called him ... and have him call me at my office, in the morning ... Okay? You
don't even have to tell him I was here."
"All right ..." She dabbed at her eyes. "What did you say ... your name was ...?"
"Jay ... Jay Ballard ..."
As he looked down at her, remembering how she had climaxed under him, just a few hours ago, in
Carla's apartment, he felt a surging rekindling of sexual arousal ... the beginning of a throbbing erection.
He repressed it. Damn it! No! She's so uptight, now ... she doesn't know which way's which!
With an exertion of will, Jay forced himself to walk to the door and out; then, he turned and said, "Get
yourself all prettied up! Arnie'll probably be here pretty soon ... and you'll want to look your best for
him!"
"A-All right ... Mr. Ballard ..."
"Jay!" he said. "And just forget that it ever happened! It was ... well
... just one of those things!"
l
He closed the door behind him and left her there. Christ! This changes everything ... especially, the fact
that she and Carla were having ... a lesbian affair! What happens when they try to show her pictures of
Arnie's little dalliance with Carla ...? Hell! There's no ball game ... and they start playing real rough ...
with Arnie!
Chapter 6
Jay drove rapidly along the freeways toward Santa Monica and home. It would be too late for dinner at
home, so he stopped for a quick bite along the way. He hadn't spent much time at home the last few
days, but tonight, he was determined to spend the whole evening-and night, too-with Betty. Maybe, we
can start working things out, now ... and right after I finish up this thing for Arnie ... we'll take that
vacation ... together!
Betty's little, foreign car wasn't in the garage, when he parked. His natural thought was that she was out
shopping, or visiting with one of her women friends.
His wife wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. Walking back to the bedroom wing, he looked into
their bedroom and found it a shambles.
"What the hell ...?" He looked around, dumbfounded, realizing that most
of Betty's things were missing. Christ! She's left me! He slumped down
on the edge of the bed ... drained, an empty shell. His first thoughts
were bitter ... almost paranoid. What made her leave? What did I do ...
to make her leave? Sure! I'm not home regular ... but I'm out busting
my ass to earn a living ... a damn good one, too! Is there another man
...?
Finally, disconsolate, his mind in a chaotic whirl, he went out into the living room to get a good stiff drink.
He mixed a triple ... with a dash of water and a couple of ice cubes.
Then, he found Betty's note, by the telephone. He picked it up and
fortified himself with a gulp of his drink, before he read: Jay,
I'm leaving! You don't seem to need me ... or want me. I found out
where, today! How many other days ... and nights have you spent with
women ... like that girl named Carla? I've got to think; that's why I'm
leaving. Right now, all I can think about is how badly you've hurt me,
and I need time to decide whether or not we should try, again ... or
get a divorce. Betty
Divorce!? God damn! She's really ... thinking about a divorce ... and she doesn't even know why I went
to see Carla Reynolds! ... But, how in hell did she find out where I was?
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