Well Now My Pretty

'No, thanks. Okay, Mr. Dylan, in a couple of hours.'

'That's right. Well, from the look of you, I guess you had a fine vacation. Did I tell you the wife and I are off next week? We're going to Lake Veronica. Should be some good fishing there. It will make a change. We haven't had a vacation for a couple of years.'

Tom moved restlessly.

'Hope you have a good time . . . well, if you'll excuse me. We want to settle in.'

'Why, sure. So you borrowed that car, huh? Nice one. I'd like to have a Buick.'

'Tom!' Sheila's voice was shrill. 'Will you come and carry this case?'

'There.' Dylan's smile widened. 'You and me talking, and the little woman does all the work.'

Tom stepped back.

'Sure I can't help?' Dylan asked as the door began to close in his face.

'It's okay,' Tom said and closed the door. He leaned against it, swearing under his breath. 'One of these days, I'll kill that jerk!'

'Tom!'

He joined her as she opened the carton. The sight of the tightly packed wads of $500 bills made both catch their breath.

'Look at it!' Sheila whispered. 'Oh, God! Look at it!'

With a shaking hand, Tom picked up one of the packets of money. Then as if it had bitten him, he dropped it back into the carton.

'We could get twenty years for this! We'd better call the police!'

Sheila took the packet he had dropped. With shaking fingers, she counted the bills.

'There's ten thousand dollars right here . . . ten thousand dollars!' She suddenly stiffened, threw the money back into the carton and faced Tom. 'You fool! Oh, hell . . . how did I come to marry such a goddamn dope?'

'What are you talking about? What do you mean?'

'You put our address on our car! That man could find our car and he'll know we have the money! Oh, God! How stupid can you be?'

'We're taking the money to the police,' Tom said, speaking slowly and distinctly. 'So, okay, let him know we have it . . . why should we care?'

'We're not taking the money to the police. Can't you ever use that thing you call a head? If we turn the money over to the police, they will cash in on the reward! Have you ever had any reason to trust a cop? Come on, Tom, help me get this carton into the house. We've got to take this car back fast!'

'Take the car back? What do you mean?'

She turned on him, her eyes blazing and she slapped him heavily across the face, sending him reeling.

'Help me get this money into the house!' she said, her voice low and furious.

Her expression scared him. Muttering, unnerved, he dragged the carton out of the car. Together, they staggered with it into the living-room and dropped it heavily on the worn carpet. Sheila ran to the window and pulled down the blind.

'Come on! We'll get the pump and drive back. Every minute we waste could put us into worse trouble!'

He caught hold of her arm and jerked her around.

'What are you planning to do? What is all this?'

Her eyes glittering, her face white, she faced him.

'I'm handling this! You're going to do what I tell you! I've lived a year with you and I've had enough of your crummy way of life! Two and a half million dollars! We've got it! No one knows we have it. Now, listen to me . . . we're going to keep it! Do you hear me? We're going to keep every dollar of it!'

* * *

Maisky watched the Buick back out of the hide, turn and then drive down the short track to the dirt road. Two and a half million dollars! Going away from him after all his planning! He felt so bad he thought he was going to die.

He lay on the damp floor of the cave, his face resting on the back of his cold hand. He heard voices, then he heard the Buick drive away.

Who could these two be? He wondered. Why had they taken his car? They looked honest enough. Why had they taken his car?

He made the effort and sat up. They must have come in a car . . . where was it?

He stared down at the steep path that led from the cave to the glade. Then, moving aside the branches that covered the mouth of the cave, he started down the path, moving slowly, terrified that the pain in his chest might return.

Finally, he reached the glade. He looked around, then continued on down the path to the dirt road. There he saw a dusty Corvette Sting Ray under the trees and a slip of paper under one of the windscreen wipers. He approached the car and slid the paper from under the windscreen wiper.

He read Tom's message.