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Authors: Jon A. Jackson
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were parked.
Later, Byron had gone to a pawnshop and gotten the long, heavy overcoat for him and then they had driven to Belle Isle and had lunch at the Casino. Nobody noticed him in the long coat. They argued about the money and finally Byron gave it to him and brought him to the Tuttle. He was to be ready by ten o'clock. Byron would bring new clothes and he would be flying to Florida by eleven.
Elroy was suddenly afraid. Why didn't Byron want to give him the money yesterday? Why did he have to hide here, waiting for Byron to come and get him? The trouble was, of course, that he was totally dependent on Byron. If something happened to Byron, Elroy would be in bad shape. And Byron had always been a pal to him. He could count on Byron, all right.
He had to have an Alka-Seltzer, or something, some coffee, maybe. He put on the dry pants, still a little stiff, and went out wearing the overcoat. He took everything with him except for the bloodied jacket.
There was a drugstore on the corner of Woodward and Sibley that had a lunch counter. He had an Alka-Seltzer and a couple cups of coffee with two donuts. The coffee made him feel much better. He bought a copy of Playboy , one of Penthouse , and a carton of Camels.
He went down the street to a pawnshop and purchased a zippered bag that said Pan-Am on it. He put the magazines and cigarettes in the bag, then went to a clothing store, where he purchased socks and underwear.
It was a little after nine as he approached the Tuttle Hotel. ADixieland cab was parked in front. Elroy hesitated. Then he ducked into the alley. An icy wind blew down the alley and he buttoned up the overcoat, turning up the collar. He could feel the reassuring weight of the .32 in his pocket.
He walked quickly to Cass Avenue carrying the bag first with one hand, then when that hand got cold, switching to the other. He came out onto Grand Circus Park and angled on up toward Cadillac Boulevard, where the airlines had their downtown offices. BOAC, KLM Dutch, American, Air France. He jostled against the Christmas shoppers and began to feel more secure.
At Delta Air Lines there was a poster of palm trees and girls in bikinis, waving. He went in.
“May I help you, sir?” asked a young woman who wore a name tag on her left breast. Ann Tyler. Elroy was unshaven and seedy looking, his hair askew from wind and no combing. Miss Tyler looked skeptical, but she was trained to be polite.
Elroy hauled out several packets of cash and said, “I want to go to Miami, right away.”
“First class or tourist, sir?”
“What's the difference?”
Miss Tyler explained the difference and pointed out that there were flights leaving Detroit hourly. He could be in Miami within a few hours. Elroy took first class.
“You'll have to hurry, sir, to catch the ten o'clock flight,” Miss Tyler said. “I'll call the desk at the airport. You'll have to take a cab. Is there any luggage?”
“Just this little bag,” Elroy said.
“That's all right, then. And if you don't make the ten o'clock, you can take the eleven.”
Elroy snatched his ticket and change and bolted out the door. There were dozens of cabs sliding up and down the boulevard and one immediately pulled up before him. Elroy jumped in the open door.
The cab pulled away quickly. The driver didn't ask where they were going. Elroy looked up at the driver's permit card, issued by the police department. It carried a photograph of the driver.
Elroy sat frozen in the rear seat. When they stopped for a light, Byron turned slightly and said, “Let's see your ticket, Ellie.”His pitted face was calm and his voice mild. He didn't seem to be angry with Elroy at all.
He took the ticket from Elroy's frozen fingers. “Delta, hunh? That'll be the main terminal. Miami. Be nice in Miami, Ellie, you'll love it.” The light changed and the cab moved away. It turned down an entrance ramp onto John C. Lodge Expressway. Byron did not return the ticket.
“Be nice to get away from
Later, Byron had gone to a pawnshop and gotten the long, heavy overcoat for him and then they had driven to Belle Isle and had lunch at the Casino. Nobody noticed him in the long coat. They argued about the money and finally Byron gave it to him and brought him to the Tuttle. He was to be ready by ten o'clock. Byron would bring new clothes and he would be flying to Florida by eleven.
Elroy was suddenly afraid. Why didn't Byron want to give him the money yesterday? Why did he have to hide here, waiting for Byron to come and get him? The trouble was, of course, that he was totally dependent on Byron. If something happened to Byron, Elroy would be in bad shape. And Byron had always been a pal to him. He could count on Byron, all right.
He had to have an Alka-Seltzer, or something, some coffee, maybe. He put on the dry pants, still a little stiff, and went out wearing the overcoat. He took everything with him except for the bloodied jacket.
There was a drugstore on the corner of Woodward and Sibley that had a lunch counter. He had an Alka-Seltzer and a couple cups of coffee with two donuts. The coffee made him feel much better. He bought a copy of Playboy , one of Penthouse , and a carton of Camels.
He went down the street to a pawnshop and purchased a zippered bag that said Pan-Am on it. He put the magazines and cigarettes in the bag, then went to a clothing store, where he purchased socks and underwear.
It was a little after nine as he approached the Tuttle Hotel. ADixieland cab was parked in front. Elroy hesitated. Then he ducked into the alley. An icy wind blew down the alley and he buttoned up the overcoat, turning up the collar. He could feel the reassuring weight of the .32 in his pocket.
He walked quickly to Cass Avenue carrying the bag first with one hand, then when that hand got cold, switching to the other. He came out onto Grand Circus Park and angled on up toward Cadillac Boulevard, where the airlines had their downtown offices. BOAC, KLM Dutch, American, Air France. He jostled against the Christmas shoppers and began to feel more secure.
At Delta Air Lines there was a poster of palm trees and girls in bikinis, waving. He went in.
“May I help you, sir?” asked a young woman who wore a name tag on her left breast. Ann Tyler. Elroy was unshaven and seedy looking, his hair askew from wind and no combing. Miss Tyler looked skeptical, but she was trained to be polite.
Elroy hauled out several packets of cash and said, “I want to go to Miami, right away.”
“First class or tourist, sir?”
“What's the difference?”
Miss Tyler explained the difference and pointed out that there were flights leaving Detroit hourly. He could be in Miami within a few hours. Elroy took first class.
“You'll have to hurry, sir, to catch the ten o'clock flight,” Miss Tyler said. “I'll call the desk at the airport. You'll have to take a cab. Is there any luggage?”
“Just this little bag,” Elroy said.
“That's all right, then. And if you don't make the ten o'clock, you can take the eleven.”
Elroy snatched his ticket and change and bolted out the door. There were dozens of cabs sliding up and down the boulevard and one immediately pulled up before him. Elroy jumped in the open door.
The cab pulled away quickly. The driver didn't ask where they were going. Elroy looked up at the driver's permit card, issued by the police department. It carried a photograph of the driver.
Elroy sat frozen in the rear seat. When they stopped for a light, Byron turned slightly and said, “Let's see your ticket, Ellie.”His pitted face was calm and his voice mild. He didn't seem to be angry with Elroy at all.
He took the ticket from Elroy's frozen fingers. “Delta, hunh? That'll be the main terminal. Miami. Be nice in Miami, Ellie, you'll love it.” The light changed and the cab moved away. It turned down an entrance ramp onto John C. Lodge Expressway. Byron did not return the ticket.
“Be nice to get away from
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