Dead End

bed full of money with his gun as he said softly, “Bucky, I was never more serious in my life.”

     And I realized he was! I said, “Doc, talk sense. Why... we couldn't possibly get away with it. They'd be on us like rust on iron.”

     Doc shook his head slowly. “Listen to me carefully, son. It will probably take a day or more before anybody finds the bodies. We could use those few days trying to skip the country with the money. Maybe we'd make it. But that's the obvious move. And if the bodies should be discovered in the next few hours, we'd be trapped on the run. Also, soon after we fail to report back to the squad room, Bill Smith will certainly get interested—he has a suspicious mind—and start an investigation, and sooner or later put a nation-wide alarm out for us on the wires. I think—”

     I cut in with, “That's what I'm trying to tell you, this money is red hot and we're—”

     “Shut up and listen, Bucky. Taking off would be, as I said, the obvious thing, and very risky. I have a better idea, something that will throw them completely off our tracks. Now, for sure, we have at least a few hours of safe time. Over on the Northside there's an ancient rum-runner and gangster hide-out, a real old-fashioned affair with false walls. It hasn't been used for years and years. Everybody has forgotten about it—except me. The house is run by a hag who will do anything for a quick buck. We merely—”

     “Jeez, Doc, we can't steal a million!”

     Doc laughed quietly in my face. “Why not? Probably turn out to be simpler than swiping a dime off a newsstand. Bucky, try to get the full picture of the opportunity in our hands. The important fact is that we have the million. All we have to do is hole up for a few weeks and then think of a way of getting the money, and ourselves, out of town. But time is on our side, and so is luck.”

     “But Doc, this is the... the... ransom money!”

     “So what? It's as green as any other bucks to me. Poppa is rich; he can afford it. And whether we take the money or not won't bring his Joanie back to life. Look at it this way: This is our reward; we bagged the kidnappers, killed them both, so—”

     “I still don't believe Betty was in on it.”

     “This punk certainly was!” Doc said, kicking the dead man's leg. “Kid, remember you risked your life. Suppose he had knifed you, then what? When the headlines had finished heaping praises on your grave, Elma would be working like those other widows we saw, cleaning and sweeping, because your little pension wouldn't be sufficient to support her. No, this is our reward, this is ours!”

     “I don't know,” I mumbled. “Stealing a million...” It seemed too big to even think about.

     “Bucky, cut the jerk talk. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and every second counts, so stop making with the cheap, inane platitudes about honesty! Get the picture, kid: I'm not claiming it's going to be a pushover, but we have a chance. A jackpot chance on a life of ease—say, down in Brazil, where they don't have any extradition treaty with the States. Or would you rather hand over the money, be a big tin hero for a headline—if they don't tie us in with Betty? You'll struggle along on a lousy salary for the rest of your life, worrying when you'll be caught palming a buck from the cracker barrel and kicked off the force. And should they learn, somehow, about our relationship with Betty, we can easily end up doing time ourselves. Think, son, but fast!”

     I licked my lips nervously, a half a dozen different thoughts pounding through my head at the same time:

     — Doc still had his gun out. What would I do if he tried to take the bundle alone?

     — What would Doc do? He had the draw on me.

     — Could they tie us up with Betty? The building janitor must have seen me come in many, many times.

     — There were also dim pictures racing through my noggin of me in a villa overlooking some palm-studded seashore, or at the helm of a yacht.

     — And there was the too-clear picture of Betty, just before Doc shot her, calling out, “Bucky, you know me...” And I did know her!

     — There was also a foggy thought about the corpse at my feet. What a fat coincidence that the most wanted man in the nation should pick my gal to shack up with!

     I nodded at the stiff, asked, “Doc, how come he landed here, of all places?”

     “Bucky, this isn't the time for theoretical arguments! We have to act—”

     “We'll act two seconds later. Isn't it odd he came here?'

     “Look, don't try to explain the ways of luck. Who knows why he came here? There's a hundred possible reasons: The rat was cornered; maybe he had to move from where he was. He could have had a run-in with his partners; crossed them. I'm sure there's one or more dead people around town this moment. All we know is the rat was on the move, had to escape the dragnet. I suppose he figured a whore's apartment would be a safe hide-out. If he's a stranger in town, where else could he go?”

     “But the last time I saw Betty, she had phoned the bartenders she was closing shop for—”

     “That was three or four days ago.”

     “But the kidnapper has been super- clever, up to now. Why should he pick this place? The traffic is a little heavy sometimes.”

     “Not when Betty has been bought for the day, refuses to open the door, says she's busy. This would be an ideal hide-out, for a day or so. Then he would have killed her—if she wasn't part of the deal from the start.”

     “No! She acted too... upset... when I came in to have been in on the snatch.”

     “Bucky, use your head! If she was in on the crime, how else would Betty act but 'upset' upon seeing you?”

     “But knowing I drop in every few days, why would she —?”

     “Damn you, Bucky, I'm in no mood for academic arguments about dead people. I don't know why the man came here, or what Betty was figuring on. And I couldn't care less! All I'm interested in is this million dollars growing cold while we gas!” Doc pointed at the bed with his gun.

     I followed the path of the gun, my eyes lingering on it for a split second, then traveling down to the suitcases of money making the bed sag. The dough gave me a terrific charge.

     I never kid myself: I was all for taking the money, and Doc's gun had little to do with my decision. I mean, his gun wasn't the deciding thing. He was good but when it came to rough stuff I was better. I could have taken him —I think.

     I rubbed some spit off my lips, asked, “But Doc, you really think we can get away with it?”

     “It won't be a snap, but we can do it.”

     “No wild chances—we can really make it?”

     “Kid, you ever know me to take a wild chance?”

     “I never saw you taking a million before.”

     “I'll level with you. The odds are against us making it, but it's not a long shot. Maybe it's two to one against us carrying it off. That's not bad odds for a million. Look at it this way, Bucky boy: If we had started out to grab a million, had the plans and getaway all set, the hardest part would be actually getting our hands on the money. That's our big advantage—we've stumbled on the boodle! And we have a place to cool off while the hunt dies down. That's as far as I go. I don't know the rest of the answers; we'll figure them out as we go along. The main thing is to decide if we do it. There's a Chinese proverb about the longest journey starts with a single step. Are you—”

     “You sneak in some chop suey, Doc? You're full of Chinese sayings.”

     “Cut the dumb cracks. Bucky, are you in?”

     I nodded. I had a hunch Doc could pull it off. In his own way he was a cautious character, certainly not a rash punk. “We split fifty-fifty. What's next?”

     “We have still another advantage: no need to worry about leaving clues, or covering up. In time they'll have to know it's us. The only—”

     “Why do we have to be in the open? Suppose we hid the dough, then went about our regular jobs?”

     “Without the ransom, what reason did we have for suspecting and gunning this guy and Betty? And once the ransom can't be found, we'll be under the hammer; we'll never be able to spend it. Less risk this way, kid. The only chance we take is in getting the money to the hideaway. And we may as well face up to that at once. We've wasted too much time already. I'll go around and get the car, park it near the delivery entrance. You pack the money and I'll come up and help you with the bags. A million dollars is heavy and—”

     “Then how did he carry all the suitcases up here?” I cut in.

     “You back to being a quiz kid again? How the devil do I know how he did it? Perhaps he made two trips. Ask him! Damn, why do you keep harping on how he got here?”

     “Because he might have somebody else in this, and that somebody might show up. Although Betty didn't mention anybody else having been here.” It hurt to even say her name.

     Doc stared at me. “Suppose somebody does show? You worried?”

     “No.” I didn't need a blueprint.

     “We have to work fast. We'll be out of here within five minutes. Lock the door when I leave, keep your gun out while you're packing. If you get company, shoot first. Don't take even the slightest chance. Way I see it, we'll drive to the hide-out and you let me out a block or so from the house, keep driving around. I'll make a deal with Molly.”

     “Who's she?”

     “Witch who lives in the house. You keep circling the block, slowly, until you see me give the nod; then we hustle the bags inside. You'll drive the squad car to the other side of town, park it someplace. Pick a busy street; it