Hinch snapped the radio off. He turned about and began a leisurely survey of Furia. Furia’s hand dug deeper under his coat.
“Hinch,” Furia said. “I don’t know from no stocking. That’s the word.”
“If you say so, Fure.” Hinch held out the Smirnoff. “Need a little snort?”
Furia snarled, “That ‘11 be the day,” and backed out.
Furia looked up the Malones’ number in the book and dialed.
Right away Malone’s voice said hoarsely, “Yes?”
“It’s me,” Furia said. “Don’t bother trying to trace this call, fuzz, it’s a public booth a long ways from you. Well?”
“I haven’t got it,” Malone said. “For God’s sake, I told you and told you. Look, there was a boy in town here who saw the thief sneak into my house Thursday and come out with the black bag-”
“I know, we heard it on the radio,” Furia said. “You and your missus played it cool, that was smart, fuzz. But I don’t care who took it. I want it back.”
“I told you-! How is my little girl?”
“She’s okay. So far. Did you think I was kidding, Malone? I want that bread or you never see your kid again.”
“How am I supposed to do it? Why don’t you get it through your head that you lost out on this deal through no fault of anybody and let Barbara go?”
“No dice,” Furia said. “Look, it don’t have to be the payroll. I ain’t particular. Any twenty- four grand ‘11 do. Work on it, Malone. I’ll call you.”
“Damn you, where would I get-?”
Furia hung up and stepped from the booth outside the railroad station. It was Sunday morning and Freight Street looked like Gary Cooper’s town at high noon. When he turned around there was Hinch.
“What are you doing here?” Furia snarled. “I thought I told you to stay in the house.”
“Cabin fever,” Hinch said.
Furia hesitated.
“I took the car, too,” Hinch said. “You want to make something of it?”
Furia began to walk.
Hinch swung into step. The crease between his pink eyes had smoothed out.
“I’ll give you a ride back,” Hinch said. “If you say please?”
“I should never have listened to you,” Malone stormed. “I should have told him Goldie had it and about the safe deposit box while I had him on the phone.”
“That would have queered the whole setup, Wes,” John Secco said. “You heard Furia. It’s working. They’ve swallowed Rudd’s bait hook and line. That means it’s stewing around in Hinch’s head. He can’t possibly have missed it, dumb or not. Give him a chance. When he’s finally made up his mind that Furia crossed him he’ll call in for a deal.”
“But Goldie-”
“You said yourself she’d talk Furia out of it if you accused her. Then the whole thing might be shot. Don’t go complicating things now, Wes. Have a little patience.”
“But I can prove it to him!”
“How?”
“I forgot about the keys. When you rent a safe deposit box you get your own key, even a duplicate. So she’s got two keys to a Taugus National safe deposit box. All Furia has to do is search her and that’s it for Goldie.”
“Do you think a woman like that would be fool enough to keep them on her, Wes? She’s hidden them somewhere. That was the first thing I thought of.” Secco shook his head. “Go up to Ellen.”
Malone went upstairs. Ellen was in bed with a slight fever. She had an icebag on her forehead and her eyes were closed.
He sat down and thought of Barbara. Everything else was boiling around.
Chief Secco sucked on his pipe downstairs beside the telephone.
Thank God I was raised the son of a farmer.
A farmer grew patience the way he grew grass.
The call came two hours before daylight on Tuesday morning. Secco was sleeping on the cot in the kitchen near the wall extension, Malone on the sofa in the parlor beside the phone. He had it off the cradle before it rang twice. Secco was a breath behind picking up the extension.
“Hello?” Malone said.
“This Malone?” It was the cougar voice, the cougar voice, pitched in a mutter.
“Yes? Yes?”
“This is Hinch. You know. Look, I can’t talk long, I had to wait till they were corked off good before I could use the phone. I’ll make a deal.”
“Yes?”
“I want out. I’ll turn state’s evidence. Do I get a deal?”
“Yes,” Malone said, “yes.”
Secco came running in noiselessly. He put his lips to Malone’s ear and whispered, “Ask him where they are.”
“Yes,” Malone said again. “Where is the house?”
“I don’t know where, I mean the street. Some crummy back road. It ain’t far.”
“Telephone number,” Secco whispered.
“What’s the phone number there?”
“7420.”
“7420.”
Secco wrote it down.
“Can you get my girl out of there, Hinch?”
“Fure took all the artillery. Anyways, Goldie’s got her sleeping in with her and she locked the door.”
“Then don’t try anything. Stay put. We’ll be out there. If you see a chance after we show, make a break for it with Barbara. Anything happens to my daughter it’s no deal, Hinch, you get the book thrown at you. You hear me?”
“Yeah,” Hinch muttered. He hung up.
Malone hung up.
He sat back and looked at the chief. Secco said briskly, “Don’t sit there, Wes. Hand me the phone.”
Malone handed it to him.
Secco dialed 411. It took a long time for the local information operator to answer. He waited patiently. When she answered he said, “This is John Secco. Who’s this, Margaret?”
“Sally, Chief.”
“Sally. This is an emergency. Who in town has the number 7420?”
He waited again.
“Thanks, Sally. Keep quiet about this.” He hung up. “It’s on Maccabee Road, the Thatcher place. They closed it up for the winter. Wes?”
“I’m listening, John,” Malone said.
