“Hal, it was so rotten not to tell you....”
“Nuts. We rushed things so, you didn't have much chance to think it out. Don't be ashamed—everyone has a bit of larceny in them.”
“Hal, you're so good!” she said, kissing me wildly.
I kissed her back, wondering if she really was going to return the dough... and not caring too much one way or the other. Pressing her face into my shirt to dry the tears, I told her, “Laurie, forget the tears. You thought your pop had merely dipped into the till...”
“And he must have done it because I nagged him. I feel so...”
“Honey, he didn't know it either, but this dough is the hottest green in the U.S.A.! In a few hours I'm going to deliver the killer to the cops, get everything squared away. We got work to do, so stop the tears and come on.”
“Hal, if you only knew how miserable and ashamed I feel about this, starting off our life together with a lie... and what a relief it is to have it off my mind now.”
“If it will make you feel better, be miserable—but later. Got a cab waiting outside. Don't talk about it in the cab.”
I told the cabbie to stop at the first decent restaurant we passed, and we left him there and had supper. I was careful not to eat much as I told Laurie about Franklin, how her pop and Brody had robbed the safe deposit box, and how I was going to trap the “Cat”... but I didn't say what I had in mind for Franklin.”
8
AT SIX-THIRTY I called Saltz, was told he'd gone home. I got his home phone and when I heard his harsh voice, I said, “Saltz, this is Darling. Be at the dock at 135th Street and the Hudson River tonight at nine sharp. Don't screw up, be there at...”
“What for, we going on a moonlight cruise, Darling?”
“Cut the corn, you big ox. Be there exactly at nine and I'll bring you Anita's killer. Also the guy who killed those two bank men, Shelton and Brody. And if you go to a house at...” I had to stop and think for a second, before I could remember Louise's exact address—that seemed a year ago, although it was less than forty-eight hours.
When I gave Saltz the address and apartment number, he said, “What's the end of this pipe dream?”
“A package deal—another body. Girl named Louise. Same guy slit her throat yesterday morning and...”
“Darling, you drunk?”
“Be at the dock at nine, with a couple men. Not before or later, or you'll spoil everything. Dumping four unsolved murders in your lap—ought to make you a captain for sure. I...”
“Where you calling from?”
“Be there at nine, big shot,” I said, hanging up. It was one of the most satisfying conversations I ever had. For a moment I considered calling my professor, if he could be there I'd be a holder of the Black Belt, Second Degree. But having him there could also mean a murder rap for me.
9
We took a bus back to New York and I sent a registered letter from the General Post Office at 34th Street to the insurance company in the bag for the Frisco dough, informing them I was about to hand over to the police information that would lead to the conviction of the thieves and possible return of the money, and was hereby claiming the reward. That done, we took a cab to the boatyard. It was about seven, giving me plenty of time to get the boat around to the Hudson and the dock.
It was beginning to get dark, but there were a couple of guys puttering around their boats. You have as many Sunday boatmen as Sunday drivers—jokers who spend all week, maybe all summer, working on their boats, getting in a few hours actual sailing on Sunday or Labor Day.
I asked the fat guy who managed the yard if he'd seen Bobo and he said, “Yeah, think the guy with the punchy face went aboard. Saw him as I was going out for supper.”
Laurie and I jumped on the deck and I called Bobo and be answered from the cabin. As I stepped down into the cabin, I felt the sound of a fist coming through the air and my head seemed to take off from my neck. A black fog came storming down on me and I was swimming in it. I swam for a long time; stopping once to tread water, I saw a light in the distance.
Calling for Laurie, I swam toward the light.
10
Opening my eyes I found myself looking at a match, and in the light of the match I saw “Cat” Franklin's smooth face, Lefty Wilson's hard, beaten features.
I was sitting on my bunk. Vaguely I could make out Laurie on the other bunk, her lips bloody, hands tied, my sock stuck in her mouth as a gag. Opening my mouth to speak caused me terrible pain and all I could do was groan. I knew my jaw was broken—Lefty had clipped me with his Sunday wallop.
The match burned down to hot charcoal and Lefty lit another. Franklin shoved the red hot match in my eye and I watched a million sparks as a new pain sailed through my head. I kicked wildly with both feet and Lefty slapped me on the jaw and the pain was a nightmare. I struggled to climb back to consciousness. It was tough climbing.
When I made it, I saw they had one of my flashlights working. Lefty was sitting beside me. Franklin had the dough from my inside pocket, said, “So you had to spend two of the bills? How stupid can you get—I'd have been glad to cut you in on the gravy, now I have to kill you. And your trim over there. Stupidity never pays off.”
“Cops... are... waiting... you can't.... get away with... it... it,” I said, my voice sounding like a bum phone connection, as though my kisser was stuffed—stuffed with hot irons judging by the pain. The only thing that came through clearly was the thought that Margrita had crossed me.
