She ignored him. Going to the cocktail cabinet, she poured out a stiff gin and drank it. Then shuddering, she put down the glass.
'Just as long as that fool doesn't make a mistake,' she said more to herself than to Maisky, then she went into her bedroom and slammed the door.
* * *
As the police car reached the path leading to the glade, Tom said, 'This is it. Up that path . . . that's where I left the car.'
Lepski pulled up. He, Jacoby and Beigler spilled out of the car, drawing their guns, leaving the car doors hanging open. They started up the path, moving cautiously.
Terrell got out, gun in hand.
'Stay right here, Mr. Whiteside,' he said. 'This guy could be around, and he's dangerous.' He followed the others up the path.
Tom took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. His hands were shaking so badly, he had trouble in lighting his cigarette, but he was feeling more confident. The drive from the bungalow had been better than he had imagined it would be. Going with these policemen had given him, at first, the nightmare feeling of being arrested but, as it turned out, it wasn't like that at all.
About the first words Terrell had said as the car moved off were, 'I knew your dad . . . a fine man . . . I would say, he was the finest man we have ever had in this City. He took care of Carrie . . . that's my wife . . . when she was in real trouble. You have nothing to worry about. These things happen.'
Tom recalled his father. He must have been a very special type of man, he thought, and yet I never realised it. It's only when people as old as Terrell talked about him, he comes alive, and yet he was always decent to me . . . decent and understanding. I was just too goddamn dumb to appreciate him. He dragged hard on his cigarette. He thought of all that money buried in the garden. He must have been out of his mind to let Sheila dominate him. He should have told the police the moment he had found the carton in the boot. He moved uneasily. It was too late now. Well, he now made up his mind. He wasn't going to touch a dollar of that money. Sheila could take it all, and she could clear out. He drew in a long, deep breath. What a relief it would be to be rid of her! The past year had been the unhappiest he had ever lived through. Let her take the money and go!
Ten minutes later, Jacoby came running down the path. He grabbed the telephone receiver in the car and started talking to headquarters.
'We want Hess here and the squad,' he said. 'The dirt road between Miami and the City's highway. Hurry it up!'
He then went back up the path. Tom continued to sit in the car. He smoked four cigarettes and waited another fifteen minutes before Terrell appeared.
'The Buick's not there,' Terrell said, 'You are sure you left it in the glade?'
Tom stiffened.
'Yes, Chief. That's where we left it.'
'We've found his hideout . . . a cave, but no car.'
'That's where we left it.'
Two police cars came bumping down the dirt road and pulled up. Hess and his squad spilled out.
'Go ahead, Fred. We've found his hide-out,' Terrell pointed to the path. 'Get your men working on it.'
Beigler, lighting a cigarette, joined Terrell.
'We'll drive to the highway,' Terrell said. They got in the car, Terrell sitting beside Tom. Five miles fast driving brought them to the parked Buick.
'Well, here it is,' Terrell said. They all got out and walked to the car. Beigler tried to open the boot, but it was locked. He looked at Tom. 'Can you open it?'
Tom nearly fell for this, but at the last split second, his mind became alive and he shook his bead.
'I have an ignition key, but not the key to the boot.'
Beigler stared at him, then went to the police car, got a tyre lever from the tool box and returned to the Buick. He wrestled for a long moment, before he broke the lock. He lifted the lid of the boot.
'Nothing,' he said and then looked at Terrell. 'Could be he swopped cars again, Chief.'
'Okay, Joe. Let's get back to headquarters. We can drop Mr. Whiteside on the way.'
They got in the police car and Beigler sent it shooting along the highway.
'Maisky could have stashed the carton some place before he moved into the cave,' Terrell said, speaking his thoughts aloud. 'We know he couldn't have got the carton past the road blocks, but he's a bright boy. It is just possible he has hidden the carton somewhere and has got out. That sum of money is worth waiting for. He might be prepared to wait six months before coming back here and collecting the money.'
Beigler grunted. 'We must be sure no one answering his description has left town without the carton.'
'More work,' Beigler said. 'Where could he hide a box that size?'
'Any left-luggage office for a start. But he couldn't have handled it on his own. We'll get it on TV and the radio. Someone might have spotted him.'
Tom listened to all this, realising that these two didn't even suspect him of having the money. This was something, he thought, he found hard to believe, until he again thought of his father. It was his father as usual who gave him his background of respectability. Even from the grave, his father was casting a cloak of protection around him, and Tom felt ashamed.
They pulled up outside his bungalow.
'Okay, Mr. Whiteside. Thanks for your help,' Terrell said. 'We won't bother you now. Tomorrow, I'll want a
