The Venus Death: A Ralph Lindsay Mystery. Ben Benson

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       THE

       VENUS DEATH

       by

       BEN BENSON

       The Venus Death

      Copyright © 1953, 1981 by Ben Benson.

      All rights reserved.

      Published by Wildside Press LLC

      wildsidepress.com | bcmystery.com

      AUTHOR’S NOTE _______________

      MY many thanks to my friends and technical advisers at General Headquarters, Massachusetts State Police, Boston:

      Colonel Daniel I. Murphy, former Commissioner of Public Safety

      Lieutenant George F. Roche

      Lieutenant Joseph P. McEnaney

      S.O. Sergeant John F. Collins

      Also, for their warm hospitality, my thanks to the officers and men at Troop A Headquarters, Framingham, Mass., The State Police Training School and the Andover Barracks.

      CHAPTER 1 _______________

      I first met her at a bar in Danford, Massachusetts. Usually, on my night off, I would drive directly home to Cambridge to see my mother and father. But this was one of those nights after a long, hard patrol. I was tired, and I thought just this one time I would go into nearby Danford, have a few beers, possibly take in a movie, and go back to the barracks and get some sleep.

      The bar was on Berkshire Street, downtown in the city. There was nothing ornate or pretentious about it. It had the usual long counter, the mirror and array of bottles behind it. A half-dozen booths, a television set and a jukebox.

      I was there early, just after six. The counter was empty and there were only two people in the booths. I sat on a leather-topped stool, my elbows on the bar, twisting the second glass of beer in my hands. The bartender, a small, ferret-faced man, was paying no attention to me. I think he knew, with a bartender’s shrewd instinct, that I wasn’t a drinker or a spender, that I was only there to kill a little time. He was moving some bottles around in back of the counter when suddenly he stopped and turned toward the door. I couldn’t help but turn and look, too. A girl had come in.

      She was about twenty-one years old and five feet five in her high-heeled black pumps. Her head was bare, her hair golden-yellow, soft and wavy and not cut short, but falling almost to her shoulders. Her skin was smooth and creamy, and her mouth was full and delicate and softly alluring, and she had a small perky nose with just enough tilt to it to make it provocative. She had a well-curved, full-hipped body and perfect nylon-sheathed legs. She was wearing a tailored gray flannel suit that snugged over her hips and thighs. She carried a large black leather shoulder bag and black gloves. She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

      I didn’t want to stare at her so I turned back to my beer. It was foolish for me to look at her, anyway. I had a girl back home in Cambridge named Ellen.

      I heard her heels click-click by me and an aura of tantalizing perfume wafted up and enveloped the sour smell of beer. Through the mirror I saw her sit down two stools away. She was looking at the price list on the wall. At the same time she was slowly peeling off her gloves. The bartender came and stood over her.

      “I don’t know,” she said to him. “I don’t know what I’ll have. Perhaps an Old Fashioned.”

      Her voice was soft and throaty, with a little huskiness to it. I fidgeted with the button on my sports jacket, thinking she didn’t belong in an obscure bar on Berkshire Street, but in a place more like the Onyx Room at the Hotel Danford Terrace. I lit a cigarette and I noticed my hand trembled a little. I knew I had no intention of picking her up, but she was beautiful and desirable, and her nearness sent my blood quickening. I kept looking at her in the bar mirror and I saw her drink come. She took a bill from her bag and paid for it.

      She picked up the short, stubby glass. She sipped at it. Then she coughed and reached quickly for a white lacy handkerchief. The bartender came over to her.

      “Anything wrong, ma’am?” he asked.

      “No,” she said. “I swallowed it the wrong way. May I have a glass of water, please?”

      The water came and she drank it. Then she fished in her bag again. Her head came up and turned toward me apologetically. She said, “I’m afraid I forgot to bring my cigarettes. Would you mind terribly?”

      “No,” I said. “Not at all.” My hands were all thumbs as I took out the pack. I fumbled with them, dropped them on the floor and picked them up again. I reached over and handed her one. Then I lit it for her. She took one puff, without inhaling. Then she put the cigarette down in an oversized glass ash tray.

      Suddenly she moved off her stool and sat down on the one next to me. “I hate to drink alone,” she said.

      “Everybody does,” I said. “It’s a universal complaint.”

      “I can say hello now. My name is Manette Venus.” Then she smiled, showing small, white teeth.

      “I’m Ralph Lindsey,” I said. “Manette is a pretty name.”

      “Thanks. Do you come here often?”

      “It’s my first.”

      “Mine, too,” she said. The cigarette burned in the ash tray and her drink remained untouched. “When a girl gets lonely, she doesn’t quite know what to do sometimes.”

      “You get lonely?”

      Her thin eyebrows arched up. “Why not?”

      “But anybody who looks like you–”

      “You’re sweet,” she said. “But I am lonely and I’ve been lonely for a month–ever since I came to Danford. It’s not a very cheery city.”

      “It’s a mill town. You can’t expect too much in a mill town.”

      “You live in Danford?”

      “Not exactly. About five miles outside. On the turnpike.”

      “Do you work in one of the mills?”

      “No.”

      “Then you’re a college student. With those shoulders you must be on the football team.”

      “No, I’m a cop,” I said. “A state trooper.”

      “A what?” she asked.

      “A state trooper.”

      “Oh, how nice,” she said. Then her voice brightened as she told me she had noticed the state troopers on the road, and how she had admired the handsome two-toned blue uniforms, and how one had stopped her once for a traffic violation.

      “But СКАЧАТЬ