Quill remained in the leather chair, his hands on the briefcase resting on his lap.
Handy was back in half an hour, grinning. “Jackpot,” he said. “Bronson must of been holding out on the income tax people. Twenty-four grand in the safe. Plus about three hundred I picked up here and there, and some jewellery. We’ll maybe get five or six on the jewellery.”
Parker got to his feet. It was over. He could relax. Karns would be more sensible than Bronson. “So long, Quill. Be sure to give Karns the message.”
“Yes, I will. Goodbye, Mr Parker.”
7
PARKER SAT AT THE desk in the motel room writing letters. It was the Green Glen Motel, outside Scranton, and Handy was off having a drink and some of Madge’s reminiscence. Parker was copying from the first letter he’d done that afternoon. So far he had finished eight of them.
FRANK,
If you haven’t done anything about that first letter I sent you, never mind. I got everything straightened out now, so we can leave the Outfit alone again. I got in touch with the guy who ran the Outfit, and the one who’s taking over now has more sense. I talked with him, and we got everything squared away. If you already got the Boston job set up go ahead and do it, but you don’t have to on my account. You can always get in touch with me through Joe Sheer in Omaha. Maybe we’ll work together again some time.
PARKER
He was just starting on the ninth when the door opened. He looked up, expecting Handy or Madge, but it was Ethel, Madge’s helper, carrying sheets over her arm. “I’m supposed to change the linen now,” she said.
“Go ahead.”
She went over to the bed, and he got back to work on the letters. He did two more. Then she said, “Okay, it’s all changed now.”
“That’s good.”
“Looks nice,” she said.
He turned to look at her. She was a hefty girl, with big mounds for breasts and hips, and rumpled blonde hair framing a face that would have been good-looking if it weren’t so vapid.
“Yeah, very nice. That’s good.” He wondered if she waited around for a tip.
She said, “You want anything else before I go?”
“No,” he said. “That’s okay.”
She licked her lips and smiled, looking almost animated. “You sure?”
Then he caught on. And seriously considered it for a second or two, because the job was over and he was feeling the way he always felt right after a job. It would be a nice break from the letter-writing to toss this one once, a soft quickie on the clean sheets. But the blank cowlike face stopped him because he knew there was a blank bovine mind behind it. Tonight, maybe he’d go down into Scranton, though he’d never found much worth while in Scranton. If not, he could wait till tomorrow night. Bett Harrow could take care of things. He could save it till then. The first one after a job ought to be a good one, like Bett, not a pig from Scranton. “I’m sure,” he said. “Forget it.”
“If you say so,” she answered. The smile faded and she looked vague and sullen. She went out and closed the door after her.
Parker wrote letters a while longer, and then Handy came in. “Madge’ll take care of fencing the jewels for us,” he said. “She’ll hold on to the dough till the next time we come through. Where you headed next, Parker?”
“I got something waiting for me in Miami.”
“Another job?”
“I’m not sure.” He told Handy about Bett Harrow, and the gun that had struck Stern on the temple. “I don’t know what she wants. If it’s something easy, I’ll go along with it. Otherwise, the hell with her. It’s about time I started building a new cover anyway.”
“You want me to come along?”
“What about the diner in Presque Isle, Maine?”
Handy shrugged, grinning sheepishly. “The hell with my diner in Presque Isle, Maine!”
“Come on along, then,” Parker said.
THE PARKER SERIES:
Point Blank (1962) aka The Hunter
The Mourner (1963)
The Outfit (1963)
The Steel Hit (1963) aka The Man with the Getaway Face
The Score (1964) aka Killtown
The Black Ice Score (1965)
The Jugger (1965)
The Handle (1966) aka Run Lethal
The Seventh (1966) aka The Split
The Green Eagle Score (1967)
The Rare Coin Score (1967)
