Read Online Lieberman's Day by Stuart M. Kaminsky - Free Book Online Page B

could they hide and work?
    The sun was just coming up, gray through the dirty curtained windows. George wanted to sleep.
    â€œWhat kind of work?” he asked.
    â€œWe need money. We need money to get out of here, get as far from here as we can, back to the Islands,” Raymond said, walking to the wall and putting his forehead against it as he clenched his fists. “I called in to my job, left a message I’m sick.”
    â€œI don’t know, man,” George said, blinking his eyes.
    â€œNo, you don’t know,” Raymond agreed. “We’re going down Sedgwick, over near Division. You know where that is?”
    George nodded that he knew, but he had no idea what area of the city Raymond was talking about. George had been in Chicago for a few months and knew almost no streets or landmarks.
    â€œWe’re going to rob three, four places fast, in-out, cash places that have morning money, Dunkin’ Donuts, McDonald’s. We’ve got nothing to lose if we get caught. What can they get on us worse than killing a white guy and his pregnant wife?”
    Raymond turned from the wall to look at George like the sorry fool he was.
    â€œThat’s what put us on Channel 5 this morning and maybe put us on the front pages,” said Raymond. “They’re going to have descriptions, maybe fingerprints, who knows. We’ve got to get money and get out of here fast.”
    â€œTo the Islands?” asked George, stepping toward Raymond and looking ridiculous as he stood shirtless with a Russian fur hat clamped down to the top of his eyes.
    â€œIf we get enough,” said Raymond. Then he moved on to his lie. “Now here’s how we’re gonna to do this. They got a good description of me, maybe from the woman you shot.”
    â€œShot? She not dead?” asked George, stepping in front of Raymond, towering over him, shutting out the gray dawning light from the window. “Why didn’t you start with that, man?”
    Raymond strode past the giant and found a bag of pretzels on the cluttered table. He pulled out a handful, popped them in his mouth, and talked as he crunched with his back turned to George to be sure his face wouldn’t betray him.
    â€œI drive up to the place, keep the motor running. You run in, gun out, put it in the manager’s face, have him …”
    â€œSometimes women run those …”
    â€œHim, her, what difference does it make? You run in, gun up someone’s nose, clean out the drawer into the bag I’m going to give you, and then you tear ass back to the car and we’re on the way to the next Dunkin’ Donuts before the cops even know we’re still out there.”
    â€œI go in with the gun,” George said, pointing to himself. “And you stay in the car?”
    â€œYou’ve got it,” said Raymond, reaching for another handful of pretzels. He didn’t even like pretzels, but it gave him something to do, something to concentrate on. “It’s better if no one sees my face, puts two and two together. One black man robs, not two. The black man doing the robbing doesn’t fit the description on TV. You hear what I’m saying?”
    â€œI hear,” said George, scratching his stomach.
    Something about this didn’t sit right with George, but he didn’t know quite what and even if he knew quite what he wasn’t sure he could raise it with Raymond. George was afraid of Raymond. No lie, though he wasn’t about to tell anyone. It wouldn’t pay to cross Raymond. Didn’t seem to pay much being on his side either, but maybe that was changing.
    â€œWhen we goin’?”
    â€œGet your coat on,” said Raymond.
    â€œI gotta eat somethin’,” said George.
    Raymond nodded. “I’ll get you a peanut butter sandwich,” he said, moving toward the small, rattling refrigerator in the corner.
    Then, Raymond thought but didn’t say,