“That Tom Howland.”
“The one they say got shot? You knew him?”
“He ate in here all the time. Used to bend my ear by the hour. I can’t believe it.”
“You never know,” Furia said, shaking his head. “Step on those coffees, huh, doll?”
She went away.
“Some day you’ll learn to listen to me,” Goldie muttered. “I told you to just tie him up. No, you’ve got to go and shoot him.”
“Goddam it, Goldie, you bug the living hell out of me sometimes, you know that?”
They drank their second cups in silence. There was no music in the diner now. The cook had turned the radio off, too. People were arguing about the robbery and murder. Furia said, “Now,” and rose. Goldie slid from the booth and made her way safely to the door. Furia, carrying the black bag, strolled up to the counter and said to the waitress, “How much for the lousy steak and javas?”
Goldie slipped out.
Hinch had the motor running when Furia got in beside him. “Turn on the police band.”
Hinch turned it on. The air was full of directives and acknowledgments. The state police were setting up roadblocks throughout the area.
“Now what?” Goldie had her arms folded over her breasts. “Big shot?”
“You want I should shove your teeth down your throat, is that what you want?” Furia said. “I ought to let Hinch work you over.”
“Any time, pal,” Hinch said.
“Who asked you? I got to think.”
“What’s to think?” Hinch said. “We hole up in the hideout till the heat goes away, like we said. No sweat. Let’s drag, Fure.”
“If you had a brain you’d be a dope.” Furia had a roadmap of the area spread on his lap under the maplight. “To get there from here we got to cross this intersection. There’s no other road in. That’ll be one of their main checkpoints. We can’t make it tonight. We got to think of something else.”
“You’d better get rid of the gun,” Goldie said remotely. She was burrowed as far as she could get into the corner of the rear seat.
“Not till I get me another one.”
“You going to kill somebody else for one?”
“I told you!”
“Why didn’t you take the watchman’s gun?”
“Because it landed in some bushes when we jumped him. We couldn’t hang around looking for it in the dark. I’ll get one, don’t worry.”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t shoot him, too.”
“You’re asking for a rap in that big moosh of yours, Goldie. I’m telling you! When Howland sent this Taylor into town for coffee and we hit him on the road, he put up a fight and we had to cool him with a knock across the ear. We tied him up and threw him in some bushes. How many times I got to tell you?”
Hinch said, “We parking here all night?”
“Let me think!”
Goldie let him think. When she thought the time was ripe she said, “Maybe if we think out loud.”
Furia immediately said, “So?”
“The watchman can’t finger you, you hit him in the dark. Nobody saw us at the plant except Howland, and he’s dead.”
“That’s why I hit him. That and the extra cut. But you got to make out like I’m a dumdum.”
“If we’d worked it the way I said,” Goldie said, “he’d have cut his throat before he fingered us. But I’m not going to argue with you, Fure. The big thing went sour was the manager driving past the plant. So now we’re hung up here. For a while they’re going to stop every car trying to leave New Bradford.”
“I know,” Hinch said brightly. “We bury it.”
“And have the paper rot or be chewed up? Or somebody find it?” Goldie said.
“We sure as a bitch ain’t throwing it away,” Hinch growled.
“Who said anything about throwing it away? It’s got to be put somewhere safe till they stop searching cars. The shack would be good, but we’re cut off from there till they get fed up and figure we made it out before they set up the blocks. Meantime-the way I see it, Fure-we need help.”
“The way she sees it,” Hinch said. “Who’s fixing this match, Fure, you or her?”
But Furia said, “What help, Goldie?”
“Somebody to keep it for us.”
“That’s a great idea that is,” Furia said. “Who you going to ask, the fuzz?”
Goldie said, “Yes.”
Hinch jiggled his bowling-ball head. “I tell you, Fure, this broad is bad news. Some joke.”
“No joke,” Goldie said. “I mean it.”
“She means it,” Hinch said with disgust.
Furia picked a sliver of steak out of his teeth. “With a far-out idea like that there’s got to be something in it. What’s on your mind, Goldie?”
“Look,” Goldie said. “I’ve been keeping in touch with my family off and on through my kid sister Nanette-”
“That is absolutely out,” Furia said. “I ain’t stashing no twenty-four grand with a bunch of rubes.”
“Are you kidding? They’d break a leg running to Chief Secco with it. Ma’s the big wheel in her church, and my old man thinks having a bottle of beer in your car is a federal offense.” Goldie laughed. “But Nanette’s no square. She’s looking to cut out one of these days, too. I know from her letters. She does a lot of babysitting nights and one of her steady jobs is for a couple named Malone, they have a kid Barbara. The Malones live in a one-family house on Old Bradford Road. It’s one of the original streets of the town, never any traffic, and the neighbors pull their sidewalks in at nine o’clock. Well, Wesley Malone is a cop.”
“There she goes again,” Hinch said.
“On the New Bradford police force.”
“What gives with this dame?” Hinch demanded of Taugus County. “Some idea! We should park our loot with the town cop!”
But Furia was heavily in thought. “How old did you say their kid is, Goldie?”
“Must be eight or nine by now.”
“You got yourself a deal.”
“But Fure,” Hinch protested.
“That’s the beauty part,” Furia said. “A cop’s got to know the facts of life, don’t he? He ain’t going to panic and try something stupid. Okay, Hinch, get going.”
“Where to?” Hinch asked sullenly.
“This Old Bradford Road. Direct him, Goldie.”
Goldie directed him. They went back into the cloverleaf and across the bridge, past three blocks of midtown, and sharply right into a steep road called Lovers Hill, Goldie said, because there was a parking strip on top where the town kids necked. Halfway up she said, “Next right turn,” and Hinch turned in grudgingly. There were no street lights, and towering trees. It was a narrow street, almost a lane, lined with very old two-story frame houses in need of paint.
The road swooped and wound in an S. At the uppermost curve of the S Goldie said, “I think that’s it. Yes. The one with the porch lit up.”
It was the only house on the street that showed a light.
“Almost,” Furia said, sucking his teeth, “like they got the welcome mat out.”
Ellen began praising the film the moment the house lights went up.
“Not that I approve of all that violence,” Ellen said as her husband held her cloth coat for her. “But you have to admit, Loney, it’s a marvelous picture. Didn’t you think so?”
