would have been the guy for her to get, and what better way was there – what other way, rather – than this one? She could only get to Tug through him. By making off with all the dough, she probably figured on –
Nuts. Nothing. It was all a pipedream. She'd wanted the money i period. She'd got it period. That was all there was to it. That was as far as she'd thought. Like she'd pointed out, a hundred-odd grand wouldn't last long- – only half as long as twice that much. So –
But maybe not! Jesus, maybe the pipedream was true! And there was nothing to lose by believing in it, nothing to lose regardless. Tug couldn't be told the truth. God, what he might do – would probably do – if he was told! Tug had to the, and –
Tug was watching him, studying him. Dusty lit a cigarette casually and thumbed the match out the window.
'Well? 'he said.
'It ain't well,' Tug grunted. 'It ain't a goddamned bit well, but I guess I got to take it. Christ, if I'd known it was going to turn out this way, all that planning and sticking my neck out for a lousy fifty grand or so-'
'Fifty?' Dusty pretended surprise. 'But she only got my half. Yours is still-'
'Who you kiddin'?' Tug glared at him savagely. 'You'd just hand it all over and like it, huh? You wouldn't try to pick yourself up a few bucks – about ten thousand of 'em – some other way? Don't crap me, kid. Don't act stupid any more than you have already. You wouldn't play with me any longer'n it paid you, so I'm paying. I'm splitting with you right down the middle.'
'Well,' Dusty murmured. 'I'll, uh, certainly appreciate-'
'Screw your appreciation. Forget it. Just don't pull anything funny, get me? Because maybe I'd get bumped off, but it wouldn't make you anything. They'd want to know why I was there, see, and they'd turn that place upside down to find out. And…'
And they wouldn't find anything. They might be suspicious, but they'd have no proof.
'All right,' Tug concluded. 'You better get going. I'll see you at one tomorrow morning just like I gave it to you over the phone.'
'Suppose I can't be there right at one? I might get tied up on a call and-'
'Well, right around one then. Say five minutes of until five minutes after. I'll circle the block until I see you on the floor. And make sure you have my money.'
Dusty nodded. He pushed open the door of the car and started to get out. Tug's voice, strangely strained and faltering, brought him to a halt.
'I – I always been nice to you, ain't I, kid? Always treated you like a friend, gave you plenty of dough without never makin' you feel cheap to take it?'
'Yes,'.Dusty agreed warmly. 'You were always swell to me, Tug.'
'Maybe it..sounds like: the old craperoo, now. But, well, I couldn't've gone through.with- the first deal. The boys thought I was nuts knockin' myself out to take you off the spot and put Bascom on it. It was risky as he'll, y'know, and they gave me a pretty bad time about it. But I had to do it. I guess, kid – I know you probably won't believe me – but I guess there probably wouldn't have been any deal if you hadn't agreed to come in. I'd've just taken what dough I had and skipped.'
Dusty murmured inaudibly, lowering his eyes to conceal their contempt. So this was the way a hard guy acted, this was the great Tug Trowbridge when the chips were down! Scared stiff, pleading. Whining about friendship.
'I… it'll be all right, won't it, kid? You ain't- – there ain't no reason why it wouldn't be all right?'
'How' – Dusty hesitated-'how do you mean?'
'I mean I won't be walkin' into a trap. You wouldn't-'
'I couldn't. You know that yourself.'
'Yeah, but I been thinkin', kid. If that dame got away with all the money…' Tug's hands came down on Dusty's shoulders. They gripped fiercely, then gently, humbly. 'Just tell me the truth, Dusty. That's all the break want. She didn't get it all, did she?'
Dusty shook his head. He said, 'Of course not. Why would I give it all to her?'
'Don't be afraid to tell me, kid. If that's what happened, just tell me, for God's sake, an'…'
'Afraid?' said Dusty, and now it was an effort to hide his disdain. 'Why would I be afraid of you… Tug?'
NINETEEN
Mr. Rhodes was in the kitchen when he reached home. His thin hair was damp from a recent shower, and his face was freshly shaved. He had done the little that he could to make himself presentable, someone not to be ashamed of, and now bustling about the cupboards and stove, he was demonstrating his usefulness, proving that here indeed, aged and ill or not, was an asset.
Dusty stood in the doorway watching him, grinning to himself. Contemptuously amused, his hatred challenged by what he saw. He had left Tug oddly exhilarated, elated and restive; he had been expecting an ordeal with the gangster and his nerves had been keyed for one. And there had been nothing to unkey them, no outlet for the building mass of nervous energy. Tug had been a virtual pushover, almost laughable there at the last. He was as bad as this old fool, still clutching at, fighting for, life – pleading for what he could no longer demand.
'Bill' – the old man kept up his brisk movements, spoke without turning around-'it was all my fault, this morning. You were tired and you've been under a lot of strain, and – well, anything you said, I know you didn't-'
'I meant it,' said Dusty. 'I meant every goddamned word of it.'
'B-but – no! No, you didn't. Why would you-' A cup slid from Mr. Rhodes' hands, clattered and shattered against the sink.
Dusty laughed, jeered. His excitement was fresh water for the old seeds of hatred.
'Would you like to know a little secret, Dad? Would you like to know how your name got on that petition? Well, I'll tell you. I-'
'I- I-' Mr. Rhodes turned around at last. His eyes swept over Dusty, unseeing, blindly, and he moved dully toward the door. 'I – I think I'd better lie down,' he said. 'I- I-'
'Oh, no you don't!' Dusty snapped. 'I've been wanting to tell you for a long time, and now, by God, I'm-'
'I already know,' the old man said absently. 'Your mother – she and I, I think we both must have known right from the beginning, but we couldn't admit it. Now… now, I think I'd better lie down…'
He entered his bedroom and closed the door.
Later, that day, when he had gone to bed, Dusty heard his father wandering around the house, moving back and forth through the rooms, aimlessly at first, then still aimlessly but with a kind of frantic desperation. He heard him leave the house, and, falling asleep, he did not hear him return. But when he left for, the hotel that night, the old man was back' in his room. Dusty listened at the door for a moment, to the blurred, muffled sounds, that seeped through the panels.
It sounded like he was praying. Or singing. Kind of like he was praying and singing together. And occasionally there was something like a sob… choked, strangling, raiding.
Dusty went on to the hotel.
At twenty minutes of one, he stepped into one of the lobby telephone booths and made a call to the police.
… They took no Chances with Tug. They picked him up in their floodlights from a mezzanine window of the hotel, from a second story window across the street. They shouted to him once. And perhaps he didn't understand the command, perhaps he was too startled to obey it? or perhaps – for he thrust the shotgun through the car window – he was starting to obey it. But the police did not deal in perhapses where Tug Trowbridge was concerned; they were resolving no doubts in his favor.
Five minutes after he drove up to the hotel, he was on his way to the morgue. Within the same five minutes, two detectives were searching the checkroom and two others were escorting Dusty to the police station, and still another two were speeding toward Dusty's house.
They found nothing there, of course; no trace of the loot from the robbery. Only the lifeless body of an old man, and a half-empty bottle of whiskey.
