Randolph tipped him. They stood on the sidewalk, and Randolph looked up the street. “There’s a coffeepot,” he said, pointing.
Willis took the $800 from his pocket. “Half of this is yours,” he said. He handed Randolph the bills.
“I figured them dice were a little too peppy,” Randolph said, taking the money.
“Yeah,” Willis said dryly. They opened the door to the coffeepot and walked to a table in the corner. They ordered coffee and French crullers. When the order came, they sat quietly for a while.
“Good coffee,” Randolph said.
“Yeah,” Willis agreed.
“You a native in this burg?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Chicago, originally,” Randolph said. “I drifted here when I was discharged. Stuck around for four years.”
“When were you discharged?”
“‘45,” Randolph said. “Went back to Chicago in ‘50.”
“What happened to ‘49?”
“I did some time,” Randolph said, watching Willis warily.
“Haven’t we all?” Willis said evenly. “What’d they get you on?”
“I mugged an old duffer.”
“What brings you back here?” Willis asked.
“What’d they get you for?” Randolph asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Willis said.
“No, come on.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I’m curious,” Randolph said.
“Rape,” Willis said quickly.
“Hey,” Randolph said, raising his brows.
“It ain’t like what it sounds. I was going with this dame, and she was the biggest tease alive. So one night—”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Do you?” Willis said levelly.
“Sure. You think I wanted to mug that old crumb? I just needed dough, that’s all.”
“What’re you doing for cash now?” Willis asked.
“I been makin’ out.”
“Doing what?”
Randolph hesitated. “I’m a truck driver.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Well, I ain’t workin’ at it right now.”
“What are you working at?”
“I got something going, brings in a little steady cash.” He paused. “You looking for something?”
“I might be.”
“Two guys could really make out.”
“Doing what?”
“You figure it,” Randolph said.
“I don’t like playing ‘What’s My Line?,’” Willis answered. “If you’ve got something for me, let me hear it.”
“Mugging,” Randolph said.
“Old guys?”
“Old guys, young guys, what’s the diff?”
“There ain’t much dough in mugging.”
“In the right neighborhoods, there is.”
“I don’t know,” Willis said. “I don’t like the idea of knocking over old guys.” He paused. “And dames.”
“Who said anything about dames? I steer away from them. You get all kinds of trouble with dames.”
“Yeah?” Willis said.
“Sure. Well, don’t you know? They get you on attempted rape as well as assault. Even if you didn’t lay a hand on them.”
“That right?” Willis said, somewhat disappointed.
“Sure. I stay away like they’re poison. Besides, most dames don’t carry too much cash.”
“I see,” Willis said.
“So what do you think? You know judo, and I know it, too. We could knock this city on its side.”
“I don’t know,” Willis said, convinced that Randolph was not his man now, but wanting to hear more so that he could set him up for a pinch. “Tell me more about how you work it.”
While the two men talked in one part of the city, the girl lay face down in the bushes in another part of the city.
The bushes were at the base of a sharp incline, a miniature cliff of earth and stone. The cliff sloped down toward the bushes, and beyond the bushes was the river, and arching overhead was the long span of the bridge leading to the next state.
The girl lay in a crooked heap.
Her stockings had been torn when she rolled down the incline to the bushes, and her skirt was twisted so that the backs of her legs were exposed clear to her buttocks. The legs were good legs, youthful legs, but one was twisted at a curious angle, and there was nothing attractive about the girl’s
Willis took the $800 from his pocket. “Half of this is yours,” he said. He handed Randolph the bills.
“I figured them dice were a little too peppy,” Randolph said, taking the money.
“Yeah,” Willis said dryly. They opened the door to the coffeepot and walked to a table in the corner. They ordered coffee and French crullers. When the order came, they sat quietly for a while.
“Good coffee,” Randolph said.
“Yeah,” Willis agreed.
“You a native in this burg?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Chicago, originally,” Randolph said. “I drifted here when I was discharged. Stuck around for four years.”
“When were you discharged?”
“‘45,” Randolph said. “Went back to Chicago in ‘50.”
“What happened to ‘49?”
“I did some time,” Randolph said, watching Willis warily.
“Haven’t we all?” Willis said evenly. “What’d they get you on?”
“I mugged an old duffer.”
“What brings you back here?” Willis asked.
“What’d they get you for?” Randolph asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Willis said.
“No, come on.”
“What difference does it make?”
“I’m curious,” Randolph said.
“Rape,” Willis said quickly.
“Hey,” Randolph said, raising his brows.
“It ain’t like what it sounds. I was going with this dame, and she was the biggest tease alive. So one night—”
“Sure, I understand.”
“Do you?” Willis said levelly.
“Sure. You think I wanted to mug that old crumb? I just needed dough, that’s all.”
“What’re you doing for cash now?” Willis asked.
“I been makin’ out.”
“Doing what?”
Randolph hesitated. “I’m a truck driver.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Who do you work for?”
“Well, I ain’t workin’ at it right now.”
“What are you working at?”
“I got something going, brings in a little steady cash.” He paused. “You looking for something?”
“I might be.”
“Two guys could really make out.”
“Doing what?”
“You figure it,” Randolph said.
“I don’t like playing ‘What’s My Line?,’” Willis answered. “If you’ve got something for me, let me hear it.”
“Mugging,” Randolph said.
“Old guys?”
“Old guys, young guys, what’s the diff?”
“There ain’t much dough in mugging.”
“In the right neighborhoods, there is.”
“I don’t know,” Willis said. “I don’t like the idea of knocking over old guys.” He paused. “And dames.”
“Who said anything about dames? I steer away from them. You get all kinds of trouble with dames.”
“Yeah?” Willis said.
“Sure. Well, don’t you know? They get you on attempted rape as well as assault. Even if you didn’t lay a hand on them.”
“That right?” Willis said, somewhat disappointed.
“Sure. I stay away like they’re poison. Besides, most dames don’t carry too much cash.”
“I see,” Willis said.
“So what do you think? You know judo, and I know it, too. We could knock this city on its side.”
“I don’t know,” Willis said, convinced that Randolph was not his man now, but wanting to hear more so that he could set him up for a pinch. “Tell me more about how you work it.”
While the two men talked in one part of the city, the girl lay face down in the bushes in another part of the city.
The bushes were at the base of a sharp incline, a miniature cliff of earth and stone. The cliff sloped down toward the bushes, and beyond the bushes was the river, and arching overhead was the long span of the bridge leading to the next state.
The girl lay in a crooked heap.
Her stockings had been torn when she rolled down the incline to the bushes, and her skirt was twisted so that the backs of her legs were exposed clear to her buttocks. The legs were good legs, youthful legs, but one was twisted at a curious angle, and there was nothing attractive about the girl’s
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