cash.”
“You’re sure they won’t go to the police?”
“Of course not.” I wasn’t sure, but I really didn’t give a damn—that was one risk we’d have to take. At the same time, I wanted Specs to figure we were in the bag. “They’ve read about these cases where people go to the police and the kids get killed. They won’t take any chances.”
“They can’t trace this letter?”
“Not in a million years. So quit bothering about it and tell me what you do next.”
“Next I drive back home and get ready to go to work.”
“That’s right. And be sure you tell Healey or somebody on the floor about the movie.”
“That cowboy picture?”
“That’s the one. Tell him how good it was, he should see it tomorrow afternoon at the matinee, like you did.”
“All right. But I don’t know how I’m gonna get through tonight.”
“Just think about the sixty-six grand you got coming. That’s how to get through it. Hell, the news won’t even be in the papers, yet. And I doubt if it hits the radio until after everybody’s left for the night shift. So don’t worry. And tomorrow noon, you get over to that drug-store and wait for me to call.”
“Right.”
I looked at my watch. “Well, time we got started.”
“Steve, you’re absolutely sure about all this?”
“Absolutely. Come on, boy. In less than an hour it’ll be all over.”
I waved at him instead of slamming him one the way I felt like doing. Then I waited until he got in his old heap and drove away.
I turned the Olds around and took the other road back. It wasn’t a long drive, but I thought it would last forever.
It was all Specs’ fault. Him and his goddam worrying. He got me jittery too, now. Even though everything was planned. Nobody knew better than I did that something could go wrong. A lot of things.
There could be somebody notice them getting into the car at the alley, or turn down there while they were tying the kid up. But it had to be done.
Mary hadn’t gone for that part at all. I had to explain over and over again that this story about the Mexicans I told her was out. On account of the kid being there and seeing who picked them up. It would only work my way—make it look like Specs pulled a gun and forced them in, then knocked her out.
After the kid was tied and blindfolded, I’d be waiting in the other alley to take over. The kid would never know about the Olds, what it looked like. The kid would never see me. The kid would never even know Mary was still along—because I was going to talk like she’d come to and I was throwing her out. She’d ride back in front with me and keep her mouth shut.
And when we got out there, the kid still wouldn’t know where she was—or see anything either. Because I’d keep those hands tied and that blindfold on.
Mary was hard to sell when I told her this. She was afraid the kid might get hurt. But I convinced her we could feed her and keep her warm out there in the garage until dark, then bring her in. And she mustn’t hear Mary’s voice or anything. It was the only way.
Of course there were a lot of hitches in that part of it, too. I could get messed up when we changed cars in the other alley. We might have a flat or a crazy accident on the way out. The kid could accidentally see or hear something in spite of everything.
But there was no other way that made sense. It was a big risk from beginning to end—but that two hundred thousand was a big stake. It was worth the gamble. My share of the pot, mine and Mary’s, was $133,666. Not bad, with no taxes.
So driving back, I finally took my own advice and just thought about the dough.
I wheeled into the alley at five minutes to three. All clear. I sat there, making a last-minute checkup. Thinking of all the things Mary had to do. Carry the head scarf and wear it in the car. Take the sun glasses and put them on. Get the kid around on the right side of the car without anyone noticing or following them. And most important of
“You’re sure they won’t go to the police?”
“Of course not.” I wasn’t sure, but I really didn’t give a damn—that was one risk we’d have to take. At the same time, I wanted Specs to figure we were in the bag. “They’ve read about these cases where people go to the police and the kids get killed. They won’t take any chances.”
“They can’t trace this letter?”
“Not in a million years. So quit bothering about it and tell me what you do next.”
“Next I drive back home and get ready to go to work.”
“That’s right. And be sure you tell Healey or somebody on the floor about the movie.”
“That cowboy picture?”
“That’s the one. Tell him how good it was, he should see it tomorrow afternoon at the matinee, like you did.”
“All right. But I don’t know how I’m gonna get through tonight.”
“Just think about the sixty-six grand you got coming. That’s how to get through it. Hell, the news won’t even be in the papers, yet. And I doubt if it hits the radio until after everybody’s left for the night shift. So don’t worry. And tomorrow noon, you get over to that drug-store and wait for me to call.”
“Right.”
I looked at my watch. “Well, time we got started.”
“Steve, you’re absolutely sure about all this?”
“Absolutely. Come on, boy. In less than an hour it’ll be all over.”
I waved at him instead of slamming him one the way I felt like doing. Then I waited until he got in his old heap and drove away.
I turned the Olds around and took the other road back. It wasn’t a long drive, but I thought it would last forever.
It was all Specs’ fault. Him and his goddam worrying. He got me jittery too, now. Even though everything was planned. Nobody knew better than I did that something could go wrong. A lot of things.
There could be somebody notice them getting into the car at the alley, or turn down there while they were tying the kid up. But it had to be done.
Mary hadn’t gone for that part at all. I had to explain over and over again that this story about the Mexicans I told her was out. On account of the kid being there and seeing who picked them up. It would only work my way—make it look like Specs pulled a gun and forced them in, then knocked her out.
After the kid was tied and blindfolded, I’d be waiting in the other alley to take over. The kid would never know about the Olds, what it looked like. The kid would never see me. The kid would never even know Mary was still along—because I was going to talk like she’d come to and I was throwing her out. She’d ride back in front with me and keep her mouth shut.
And when we got out there, the kid still wouldn’t know where she was—or see anything either. Because I’d keep those hands tied and that blindfold on.
Mary was hard to sell when I told her this. She was afraid the kid might get hurt. But I convinced her we could feed her and keep her warm out there in the garage until dark, then bring her in. And she mustn’t hear Mary’s voice or anything. It was the only way.
Of course there were a lot of hitches in that part of it, too. I could get messed up when we changed cars in the other alley. We might have a flat or a crazy accident on the way out. The kid could accidentally see or hear something in spite of everything.
But there was no other way that made sense. It was a big risk from beginning to end—but that two hundred thousand was a big stake. It was worth the gamble. My share of the pot, mine and Mary’s, was $133,666. Not bad, with no taxes.
So driving back, I finally took my own advice and just thought about the dough.
I wheeled into the alley at five minutes to three. All clear. I sat there, making a last-minute checkup. Thinking of all the things Mary had to do. Carry the head scarf and wear it in the car. Take the sun glasses and put them on. Get the kid around on the right side of the car without anyone noticing or following them. And most important of
Similar Books
