“We’ll have to insist,” Hathaway
said.
Jo Jo held his look for a long moment and then shrugged and crouched and began to take money from the open suitcase.
The little pussy was going to get his someday too, but there was no point arguing with him now. He was still useful. They finished the count in silence.
“I get two million, one hundred and fourteen thousand, nine hundred and five dollars,‘: Hathaway said when the money was counted. ”Do you want to recount it?“
“Hell no,” Jo Jo said. I’ll take
your count.“
“Fine,” Hathaway said. “You get
four percent?”
“Yeah.”
Hathaway tapped on a calculator for a moment.
“Eighty-four thousand, five hundred and ninety-six dollars and twenty cents,” Hathaway sai. “If we’d used your count it would have been more like ninety-two thousand.”
“Don’t matter,” Jo Jo said.
“Plenty more coming.”
“Fine.”
Hathaway counted out Jo Jo’s percentage.
“Keep the twenty cents, too,” Jo Jo said and laughed.
Hathaway made no response except to shrug slightly.
“Would you like that in an envelope?”
Hathaway said.
Hathaway folded it neatly, put it in a plain brown envelope, and handed it to Jo $o. He put it back in one of the suitcases, picked up both of them, and started for the door.
Hathaway said, “Why don’t you have a seat while I get this deposited and get you a receipt.”
Jo Jo tried to look like he didn’t care, although in fact, he had been in a hurry to get out of Hathaway’s office and had forgotten that he needed a receipt to show Gino. He sat and looked at the boat models while Hathaway and two tellers deposited the cash.
Hathaway returned when it was gone and gave Jo Jo a deposit slip.
“What do you get outta this?” Jo Jo said.
Hathaway looked at him blankly without answering. Jo Jo shrugged, tucked the deposit receipt in his shirt P °Cket, picked up the suitcases, and walked out of the office, waddling a little under the pressure of his vast thighs.
Rod and Gun Club on the north edge of town were set aside on Thursdays for the members of the Paradise Police Department.
Jesse required everyone on the force to fire service pistol and shotgun once a month. Fifty rounds pistol, ten shotgun. This Thursday it w. as Jesse’s mm, and Suitcase Simpson’s. Jesse brought both the nine-millimeter service pistol that came with the job, and the short .38 revolver that he usually carried. Both men put on the earmuffs, and Simpson shot first, two-handed, in the crouch that everyone used. He scored well enough, but Jesse could tell that he didn’t like shooting very much, that he was controlling a flinch. When it was his turn Jesse two clips from the nine-millimeter, and put all but three rounds into the bull’s-eye.
“Jesus, Jesse, yOU can shoot.”
Jesse read his lips and nodded. He put down the nine, drew the revolver, and put all five rounds into the black.
Then he stepped back, reloaded the revolver, holstered, it, and took off his earmuffs.
“How in hell did you get to shoot like
that?” Simpson said.
“Practice,” Jesse said.
They each fired the shotgun, taking turns with it. When they were through Jesse handed the shotgun to Simpson.
“You get to clean it,” Jesse said.
“‘Cause you’re the
chief?.”
“Of course,” Jesse said.
Simpson nodded.
“But I’ll buy you coffee,” Jesse
said. “Prove I’m a regular guy.”
