Read Online Hard Cash by Max Allan Collins - Free Book Online Page B

shoes a farmer might work in; the socks were loose and dirty.
    That’s all Jon saw of the two men, as he later deduced the number of his assailants to be: the shoes and socks of one of them, and nothing of the other, because the other was on Jon’s back, holding him down.
    Nobody said a word; certainly not Jon, whose lips and teeth were mashed into the wooden floor.
    And then one of the black shoes flew at Jon’s temple, and Jon went away for a while.
    He woke up on the couch upstairs.
    There was coldness on the side of his head.
    “Oh . . . fuck . . .” he heard himself saying. He sat up. The coldness, an ice pack, slid off the side of his head.
    Nolan handed Jon a cold beer. Jon grabbed at it, guzzling at the can like the Frankenstein monster taking his first drink.
    “Aren’t you even going to ask me how my day in Indianapolis went?” Nolan said.
    Jon just looked at Nolan. Then laughed. “Hey. You got me an ice pack. For my kicked-in head. You’re some kind of nurse, Nolan. Didn’t know you had it in you.”
    “If you want a doctor, I can get Ainsworth over here. That’s a hell of a lump you got. Concussion maybe.”
    “No doctor. I’m okay.”
    “You mean you think you’re okay.”
    “I don’t think anything. I think all my think got kicked all over the floor downstairs.”
    “Somebody was into the safe.”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “I think they were looking around upstairs, too.”
    “Nothing valuable taken?”
    “Nothing valuable to take. Except some of the antiques, which they didn’t touch. And a couple thousand in the wall safe, which they didn’t find. So you got here before they left, and they kicked you in the head? See who it was?”
    “I know exactly who kicked me in the head. We can have the cops put out an APB, my description is so exact.”
    “Who, then?”
    “A black farmer shoe with a dirty white sock and a foot in it.”
    “Terrific. Another beer?”
    “No. This one’ll do me. I’ll just lay back down here. What the hell time is it?”
    “Oh, around eleven I guess.”
    “When did you get back?”
    “Not long ago. I hauled you upstairs and got you an ice pack and you woke up.”
    “I’m not sure about that last part. Jesus. Now I know what they mean when they say ain’t that a kick in the head.”
    “Listen. Breen was murdered.”
    “Yeah, I know. That’s why you went to Indianapolis.”
    “I mean Breen was murdered, and then you were kicked in the head and our place was gone through. Nothing’s gone, but it was gone through, all right.”
    “You think there’s a connection? Between Breen and today?”
    “I don’t know. What do you think?”
    “Me? You’re asking me, Nolan? For an opinion? Christ, I’m not ready for that. You better just kick me in the head. That I can handle. That I’ve had experience with.”
    “This heist. Maybe we should scratch it.”
    “Yeah, sure, only we aren’t calling the shots. Rigley is. Or Rigley’s girl friend is.”
    “Maybe Rigley and company’ll change their mind when I explain something funny’s going on.”
    “ Is something funny going on?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “So what are you going to do?”
    “I think I better try to talk Rigley out of it. The back of my neck is starting to tingle on this thing, and I think we better get out, if we can.”
    “And if we can’t?”
    “Go ahead with it, I guess. I think we better forget about bringing in another man. That okay with you? Breen would’ve been perfect, but he’s dead, and with what I got in mind for the heist, there really isn’t the time to recruit anybody else. Or the need either. We can get by, just the two of us. Don’t you think?”
    Jon rubbed the lump over his temple. “Maybe I will have another beer.” He got up and went after the beer, then came back and said, “Santa Claus suits?”
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
    9
     
     
    SHE GOT BACK to the cottage at five-thirty. She was bushed. Fridays at the beauty shop were always busy, but today had