The man called Butcher said, “Get in and drive, Slim, take us to Bill’s place. Bill, come in and sit with us, I want to talk to you.” Slim opened the car door, tapping Peggy’s thigh with the back of his hand, “Move over, pretty lady.” Butcher opened the door on the right side, “Hurry up, Bill.”
Bill said, “Okay, okay.” His voice was full of enthusiasm and friendliness. “I want to talk to you all in detail, but listen, I think this doll might be a private detective or something. She tried to pull a fast one on us.”
“Yes,” Butcher said, “we’ve got this doll all figured out. Hurry up, get in, Bill. We’re going for a nice long drive, a good talk.” Bill got out of the car, Peggy slid over to his seat, and Slim took the wheel.
“You have to back out,” Butcher told Slim, “this is a dead end.” “Okay.”
“You lead,” Butcher continued, “if she gives any trouble, hit her on the head.” Butcher drove off with Bill. Slim reached into the side pocket of his coat, pulled out a leather-wrapped metal stick, and fastened the strap around his wrist.
“We don’t want any misunderstandings, miss,” he said, “if you make a peep or move, I’ll knock you out until next week. I can drive with one hand and the other is ready to strike you if you make any noise, understand?” She smiled at him, “Don’t you think you’re overdoing it? Perhaps you’d like to tell me—”
“Oh, I know,” Slim said, “you’re going to try your usual sex appeal, but that won’t work, honey. I’m very calm when I’m on duty. Now, turn your face this way so I can take some preventive measures in case you scream.”
“What do you mean?” He grabbed her shoulders, roughly pulling her head back, and she felt a hand cover her mouth, something sticky on her face. Before she realized what he was doing, a wide strip of duct tape was slapped over her mouth. Slim secured it with his nicotine-stained fingers.
