We came through the Lincoln Tunnel, worked our way in and out of horrendous holiday traffic, got onto the New Jersey Turnpike and headed south. Dick Fleming and Hymie Gore were snoozing in the back seat. I was driving. Jack Donohue sat beside me, bending over a Gulf Oil map, trying to read it in the light of the dash.
‘Don’t you ever sleep?’ I asked him.
‘When it’s time,’ he said absently. ‘I love this traffic. Safety in crowds, babe.’
I was wearing my new wig — a cross between fire-engine red and life-preserver orange. It was a mass of tight curls. I looked like Little Orphan Annie after she had been picked up by the heels and dipped in a bucket of tangerine Jell-O. Jack had done well with the trenchcoat, though. It had a zip-in fleece lining, which was welcome considering that the outside temperature was a few degrees below zero. He had also bought me a tweed skirt and pink angora sweater. The pink went with my orange wig like milk goes with pickles.
‘We’ll pick up some better stuff along the way,’ he had assured me. ‘Also, I’ll need clothes, and Hyme and Dick, too. Some more suitcases. Maybe a thermos for coffee, and one of those plastic picnic chests so we can carry food on the road.’
‘You think we’ll make it, Jack?’ Hymie Gore asked.
‘Can’t miss,’ Donohue had said as he crossed middle and index fingers of both hands and spun around three times.
So there we were, rolling south through New Jersey at about 2:00 A.M. Dick’s suitcases and carryalls, stuffed with the Brandenberg loot, were in the trunk. Jack estimated the total take at close to three million, and I didn’t doubt it. It gave me a wry satisfaction.
In the passenger compartment, stuffed under the seats, was the arsenal we had accumulated: my gun, Jack’s gun, Hymie Gore’s gun, Smiley’s gun, Clement’s gun, and the three guns taken from the Brandenberg clerks.
‘We could invade Bulgaria,’ Jack Donohue said.
The armament was stowed away, hidden, because Black Jack didn’t want any of us personally armed during our flight.
‘Suppose we get pulled over by some hotshot trooper,’ he explained. ‘Chances are he’s not going to pat us down. But he might spot a bulge. He might just feel something is wrong and give us a quick frisk. But he’s not going to climb into the car for a search by himself. So he writes us a ticket and takes off. You’ve got to figure the percentages. When we hole up in a motel to sleep, we’ll go in heeled. But on the road, we’re solid citizens.’
Following his instructions, I kept to the speed limit and had the frustration of watching cars and trucks go whizzing by. But it didn’t seem to bother Donohue. He just bent over his map, tracing routes with his forefinger.
‘Here’s the problem,’ he said musingly, almost to himself. ‘By tomorrow or the next day the cops and the Corporation will have a handle on me, through Clement. They’ll ask around and discover I work out of Miami. The New York cops will drop out and the Feds will take over. They’ll cover all the turnpikes, national highways, and so forth, figuring I’ll be trying to make time.’
‘How about airlines?’ I asked. ‘Railroads? Bus lines?’
‘Forget it,’ he said. ‘They were covered an hour after we hit. No, they’ll figure we’re heading south by car. So our best bet is to get off the turnpikes whenever we can and use secondary roads. Also, we’ve got to do that. We can’t go around Philadelphia and Baltimore, for example. We’ve got to go into town.’
‘Money,’I said.
He reached out to pat my knee.
‘Brainy lady,’ he said. ‘Unless you want us to use those credit cards of yours — which would be like leaving arrows pointing. “They went thataway.” So we’ll have to go into the cities along the route. Hock or sell enough of the ice to keep us green. Take what we can get. Not carry so much on us that if we’re stopped and turned out, the cops are going to get suspicious. But just enough in our pockets so we can pass as vacationing New Yorkers heading south for the season. We can stash extra cash under the seats.’
‘What if they search the car?’ I said.
‘Oh shit,’ he said, if they turn out the car, they’ll find all those irons and the rocks, so what’s the diff? I’m just saying what we should carry on us. Let’s stick to the Turnpike for another hour or so. Then we’ll cut over to Camden and Philadelphia. Hole up and get some sleep. Unload some of the stones and buy the stuff we’ll need. Weil travel again tomorrow night.’
‘Drive only at night?’ I asked him.
‘Morning, day, night,’ he said, shrugging. ‘We’ll take it as it comes. The important thing is to avoid a pattern so they can’t get ahead of us. One day we’ll pour on the miles during daylight, the next day a short trip at night. We don’t want to give them any tips.’
‘You’re sure they’ll be coming after us?’ I asked.
‘Oh, they’re coming,’ he said grimly. ‘The Feds and the Corporation. They’re coming after us. You can take that to the bank.’
We drove awhile in silence, and then I asked a question that was bothering me:
‘Jack, if they get onto you, and learn your home base is Miami, then why are we heading there?’
‘Where should we go?’
‘The Midwest,’ I suggested. ‘Chicago. Or LA. Anyplace they won’t suspect.’
‘No good,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘Jannie, the Feds are an army. They’ll alert all their field offices. And the Corporation is even worse. They’ll put out the word, with maybe a nice prize offered for tips, and they’re everywhere. I mean, I won’t even be able to get a shoeshine without wondering if the kid’s made me. So if every direction is equally dangerous, it makes sense to head for a place I know. Where I can find people I trust. Besides, did you ever wonder just what the hell we’re going to do with all these big hunks in the trunk? The Brandenberg stuff, and the Devolte loot, and all that?’
‘I wondered,’ I admitted. ‘The insurance company is out, and from what you said, no fence will touch us.’ ‘Not in this country they won’t,’ he agreed. ‘That’s the other reason we’re heading for Miami. With enough of the loot, we can charter a plane to get us out of the US and A. To one of the islands or someplace in Central America. Or South America. Like that. We’ll probably have to take ten percent, but down there we can live high off the hog on that ten. And no questions asked if you grease the right palms.’
‘Why not New England?’ I persisted. ‘Boston? Your home? Surely there are people up there you can trust?’
‘Boston?’ he said. ‘My home?’ He snorted with laughter. ‘Holy Jesus, you didn’t fall for that fine old family in Boston bullshit, did you, babe? It was all smoke. I’m a cracker. I was born on a farm outside of Albany, Georgia.’
I sighed. ‘Now I don’t know what to believe,’ I told him.
‘Not what anyone tells you,’ he said. ‘Never believe that. Just believe in what they do. Actions speak louder than words.’
‘Oh God,’ I said. ‘The platitudes! You’d make a lousy writer.’
‘Sure I would,’ he said equably. ‘But I’m a great crook. I’m going to catch a few winks. Wake me up when we get to the Philly turnoff.’
In a few minutes I was the only one awake in the car. I had my hands in the 10-2 position on the wheel. I was leaning forward slightly, peering out the windshield. Not the most comfortable driving position in the world (it gets you in the small of the back), but we were running into patchy fog. It was almost an icy mist, enough to make outside lights glimmer but not heavy enough to switch on the wipers.
Like most New Yorkers I can handle midtown Manhattan traffic without a shiver. But get me out on a clear raceway like a turnpike, and I get the fantods. I mean, who drives to Miami? I even plane to the Cape and Montauk.
But there I was, Bea Flanders, gunmoll, at the wheel of a getaway car carrying three villains, eight assorted cannons, and about three mil in stolen gems. I’d love to use it in a book, but who’d believe it?
And guess what I was brooding about. My nefarious career? The trail of corpses we had left behind us? The dangers ahead? Nope. I was wondering about what would happen when we did find a motel that raw night. Specifically, what would the sleeping arrangements be? We obviously couldn’t ask casually for a room for four adults.
That meant two doubles — and who would bunk with whom? Did Jack Donohue trust us enough to allow Dick and me to share sleeping quarters? Or would he claim droit du seigneur? An interesting problem. It occupied me until I saw the warning signs for the Camden-Philadelphia turnoff and nudged Jack awake with my elbow.
We made the turn and started looking. Just Donohue and I. The two hulks in the back seat were still out, Hymie Gore snoring gently, an occasional soft moan coming from Dick.
We passed up at least a half-dozen hotels and motels, including a Holiday Inn and a Howard Johnson’s Motor Lodge. Then Jack found what he was looking for. It was called Flo-Mar’s, from which I deduced the owners were Florence and Martin. Or maybe it just meant the toilets worked but the the bowls were stained.
An old-fashioned place: a one-story, U-shaped chain of contiguous units. The big advantage for us was that you checked in at the office, then drove around the U and parked right outside your room. Three steps and you were inside. No parking lot, no lobby, no bellhops.
Donohue said, ‘Leave the motor running,’ and went into the lighted office that had a big VAC-NCY sign flashing on the roof. He was out in five minutes and climbed in beside me.
‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘Two adjoining doubles with empty rooms on both sides. Numbers 8 and 9.1 signed us all in.’
‘Our real names?’ I asked.
‘You kidding?’ he said. ‘I paid in advance. No questions asked.’
‘How do we divide up?’ I said, trying to keep it casual.
‘I figured you and Hymie Gore could share Number 8,’ he said, just as casually. ‘Don’t worry about a thing, babe. He’ll be a perfect gentlem an. I guarantee it.’
‘But he snores!’ I cried.
‘Naw,’ Donohue said. ‘Just breathes heavily, that’s all. You’re so worn out, you won’t hear a thing.’
It didn’t make me feel any better to know the son of a bitch was right.
‘And you and Dick share Number 9?’ I said.
‘Just for tonight. We’ll switch around. Listen, this isn’t fun-and-games time. All we want is a good night’s sleep.’
‘Sure,’ I said.
‘Here,’ he said, fishing in his pocket. ‘Something I picked out of the take. In case the neighbours get curious tomorrow. I think you better wear it from now on.’
It was a gold wedding band, braided, very delicate and very lovely. He took my left hand, slipped it on the third finger. It fit loosely but well enough.
‘Does this mean we’re married?’ I asked him.
I saw his brilliant grin.
‘I like you, babe. You’re all right. Now let’s wake up the clunks, get out of sight and into bed.’
‘Two beds in each room, I hope.’
‘What else?’
We took the suitcases and guns in with us. There wasn’t a single lighted room in the motel except ours. And we were all in bed, our lights out, door locked and chained, within ten minutes. I was asleep in eleven.
Jack was right: Hymie Gore was a perfect gentleman, even if his undershorts had small rosebuds printed on them. And if he had any plans to rape a sleeping woman, that was his problem.
I wish I could tell you that I had nightmares of a knife in my ribs, people shooting guns at me, dying men murmuring, ‘Bullshit.’ But the truth is, I had a deep, dreamless, wonderful sleep and awoke a few minutes after 11:00 a. m. on Saturday morning, knowing exactly where I was and what had happened.
Hymie Gore was gone, and when I peeked outside I saw the car was gone, too. It never occurred to me that I had been deserted. I assumed they had left for some good reason, and didn’t worry about it. I don’t know why I had such faith in Jack Donohue, but I did. Maybe that’s why he was such a successful bunko artist.
I took a hot shower and realized I didn’t have a toothbrush or toothpaste. That I worried about. I was just finishing dressing when there was a knock on the outside door.
‘Who?’I called.
‘Dick.’
I let him in. We looked at each other.
‘How did you sleep?’ he asked.
‘Rocksville,’ I said. ‘You?’
‘Babe in arms,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d have nightmares, but I didn’t.’
‘Same here. Where’d they go — you know?’
‘Jack said he wanted to scout around with Hymie. I offered to go along, but he said to stay close. Guard the jewels and guns. We could make a run for it now, Jannie — if you want to.’
‘Do you?’
‘No. Do you?’
‘No. We’ve crossed the Rubicon. What are they scouting around for — did Jack say?’
‘Not exactly. To buy some stuff, he said. He made out a list.’
‘I hope a toothbrush was on it.’
It was. Donohue and Gore returned around noon with two new suitcases filled with purchases: toothbrushes, toothpaste, aspirin, razors, shaving cream, cologne, powder, two bottles (scotch and vodka), cigarettes, candy bars, boxes of crackers, instant coffee, a quart thermos jug, etc., etc.
‘Like a picnic,’ I said. ‘You pick up any newspapers?’
‘ Yeah,’ Hymie Gore said. ‘Show them, Jack.’
They had bought the Enquirer. We were on the front page: ‘$1M NY Gem Heist.’ The brief story said that New York police were investigating ‘several leads.’
‘One million?’ I said. ‘Who they kidding?’
‘The cops,’ Donohue said. ‘You didn’t expect Brandenberg and Sons to admit they were holding two mil in stolen ice, did you? Y’know, I got to laugh every time I think of it. Crooks ripping off crooks. What a switch! Well, let’s get some breakfast. We found a McDonald’s right down the road.’
It was our first hot meal in I couldn’t remember how many hours, and we all had two helpings of everything. Except Hymie Gore: he had three. We sat in a corner booth. I noticed that Jack Donohue positioned us so he could watch the door. Maybe he thought crooks robbing crooks was funny, but he wasn’t playing it for laughs.
We were finishing our coffee when he asked us how much cash we were carrying. I had a little over a hundred. Dick had about forty. Hymie had sixty-five. Jack said he was holding almost two grand, proceeds from the jewelry he had sold and pawned in New York before we left.
‘Not enough,’ he said. ‘We got to spend the day collecting. Here’s how we’ll handle it …’
He spelled it out for us, going over it slowly, in detail. We would head into downtown Philadelphia, all of us in the Ford. Then, at some rendezvous point — say a parking lot in a shopping center — we’d separate and go different ways on foot or in cabs.
Dick Fleming would take men’s watches, the beautiful, engraved antique pocket watches and hunters in the Brandenberg loot. He’d select as many as he could comfortably carry — maybe a half-dozen or more — and peddle them in jewelry stores that bought secondhand gold. He would sell one watch in each store he hit. His scam was that the watch belonged to his father, was a family heirloom, and he was selling it regretfully, only because he needed some ready cash.
‘Think you can handle it?’ Donohue asked, looking at him closely.
‘Sure,’Dick said.
‘Sure you can,’ Donohue said. ‘I know you can. Don’t volunteer any information unless they ask. Then tell them what I just told you-nothing more.’
‘Use my right name?’ Fleming asked.
‘Only if they ask for it, which they probably won’t.’
‘How much should I ask?’
‘Five hundred,’ Donohue said promptly. ‘They’ll laugh and say there’s no demand for watches like that. Bullshit. Those watches are works of art; nuts collect them. Come down to two hundred if you have to. If they offer anything less, start to walk out. They won’t let you go; take my word for it. The gold in those watches is worth more than that. Jannie, you hit the same type of store. You’ll be hawking wedding rings. Solitaires and bands. If they ask, you just got a divorce and don’t want anything your sonofabitch husband gave you. If possible, ask them to make the first offer, then you demand fifty percent more. Haggle. Get as much as you can. Clear?’
‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I can fiddle it, Jack. Can I sell two rings in one store — say a plain band and a diamond?’
‘Why not?’ he said. ‘Lots of women have more than one wedding ring. You’re a smart twist; I’ll leave it up to you.’
‘Don’t call me a twist,’ I said. ‘What will you and Hymie be doing?’
‘I saw some men’s rings in that heap: pinkie rings and heavy gold cufflinks set with diamonds and rubies. Hymie will try his luck in taverns. Bartenders are suckers for a hot buy. Me, I’m going to take some of the bracelets, pins, brooches, cocktail rings — flashy stuff like that.’
‘Who’s going to buy?’ I asked him curiously.
‘Whores,’ he said, grinning. ‘And their pimps. They can’t resist the dazzle. And there used to be some good cathouses in Philly. If they’re still there, I’ll clean up. Now we’ll go back to the motel and load up with merchandise. Then we’ll get moving; I want to be on the road as soon as possible.’
He was a been-around man, no doubt of that. He knew Philadelphia as, I presumed, he knew every big city in the country. We parked the Ford in the lot of a shopping center and agreed to meet there again at 5:00 P.M. If anyone was more than thirty minutes late — goodbye, Charlie; it would be assumed he had been nabbed and the Ford would take off.
Donohue told Dick and me the best downtown streets to canvass. He saw us into a cab, my purse jammed with rings and Dick’s pockets sagging with watches. He waved as we drove away.
‘Fun,’Dick said.
Ilooked at him.
He was laughing and excited; that was obvious. He was eager, anxious to test his bravery and wit. He had always been — well, I guess effete is the best word to describe him. But the events of the past twenty-four hours had remade him. He seemed more positive, more thrusting. He leaned forward, a half-smile on his lips, eyes bright and blinking.
I almost asked him about last night, about him and Jack Donohue in Room 9, if anything … But how can you ask a question like that?
In all honesty, Dick wasn’t the only one enjoying this test of his criminal talents. I admit to a kind of don’t-give-a-damn mood. Perhaps because of what had happened, what I had done or participated in. But it was more than that. It was a wild freedom, an absolute kicking over of the traces. Maybe every criminal feels that way; I don’t know. All I can do is describe it as an exhilarating madness. With all shackles of
habit, logic, and morality thrown off and discarded, you want to see how far you can go. You want to fly, just go with it, push it to its limits: lie and cheat and steal and, if need be, kill.
It’s civilization turned inside out. No becomes yes, and black is white. Anything goes.
It went, for me, like a hilarious dream. The first jewelry store I hit was a mom-and-pop shop that had a sign in the window: ‘We Buy and Sell Gold, Diamonds, Silver.’ I took off the wedding band Jack Donohue had told me to wear, and slipped it into my purse, put on the Mt. Everest of solitaires set in what I guessed to be platinum, but could have been white gold.
‘Yes, lady?’ the proprietor said, coming forward, smiling. ‘Can 1 help you?’
‘I want to sell this,’ I said, sticking out my left hand.
He held my fingers, peered down at the ring.
‘Let me have a look,’ he said, neatly slipping the ring away. It came off easily. ‘Too big,’he said.
‘I’ve lost weight.’
‘It happens.’
‘It should happen to you,’ his wife mumbled, hovering nearby.
‘Sha,’ he said, going behind the counter. He adjusted a lamp, screwed a loupe into his eye, bent over the ring.
‘Why should you want to sell this?’ he asked casually, inspecting the diamond.
‘I’ve just got a divorce. I don’t want to own anything that reminds me of that monster.’
‘He beat you?’ the wife asked, horrified.
‘You wouldn’t believe,’ I told her.
‘Jake, you hear?’ the wife said.
‘I hear,’ he said, turning the ring this way and that. ‘That also happens. Count your blessings.’
‘Some blessings,’ the wife said scornfully.
‘Well,’ Jake asked, looking up at me. ‘How much were you thinking of asking for this little stone?’
‘Five thousand,’ I answered bravely.
‘Five thousand? Lady!’
‘That’s what my husband — my ex-husband told me he paid for it.’ ‘He said. Believe me, lady, if he paid more than one, they saw him coming. I could give you maybe five hundred.’
‘Five hundred? No way. Give me my ring back.’
‘Sha. Sha sha — Don’t get angry. Let’s talk like civilized people. The ring is worth maybe a thousand in today’s market. Retail. All right, fifteen hundred tops. But can I buy it for that? Of course I can’t. My rent: seven-fifty a month. Insurance. Utilities. My clerk, he should drop dead already, a cousin yet, who refuses to come in on weekends, another thousand a month. So I give you retail price, and what do I get? Bubkes, I get. All right, you’re a nice lady. For you, seven-fifty.’
I caught on: it was a game. He was enjoying it. To tell you the truth, I was too. I knew he wanted the ring. I had made the sale; the only question that remained was, how much?
We went at it hot and heavy, Mom chiming in now and then when the argument flagged. He pointed out a small scratch in the setting. I pointed out the exquisite cut of the stone. He came up slowly; I came down just as slowly.
Finally we struck a bargain: one thousand, six hundred and fifty.
We smiled at each other, both satisfied.
‘In cash,’I said.
His smile faded.
‘Cash? Look around you, lady. Does this look like a store I get that much money maybe in a drawer? Under the rug? My check is good. Believe me; good as gold.’
‘I’m sure it is. But the banks are closed today. I’m leaving for Miami tonight. I need the cash.’
‘Jake, did you hear?’ the wife chimed in. ‘Miami. The children. That’s where we should be — Miami.’
‘Cash,’ he said dolefully. ‘I’m sorry, lady. That kind of cash I don’t have.’
‘How much do you have?’ I asked. A mistake.
‘I could maybe scrape together one thousand five,’ he said. ‘Possibly.’
So I walked out of there with one-five. Both of them escorted me to the door and wished me the best of luck in my new life in Miami. I knew when I was beaten.
Still, my first sale had netted fifteen hundred dollars. And my first thought was of how proud of me Jack Donohue would be. My second thought was that I wasn’t the only thief involved in that transaction. Admittedly I was selling stolen goods. But, in a way, they had stolen, too. Maybe they guessed it was a hot rock. But in any event they had taken advantage of my ignorance and had paid a pittance for a ring I was certain was worth much more.
My other sales weren’t that easy, and none yielded as much. In two stores I was turned away rudely when I couldn’t produce proof of purchase. A few others offered ‘take it or leave it’ terms, and I accepted. Two others offered checks and refused to pay cash.
The last place I entered was interesting. The proprietor, a youngish, baldish man with bad breath and a black patch over one eye, immediately paid in cash the price I asked for a Victorian gold wedding band engraved with vines and leaves.
‘Happy to do business with you, miss,’ he said with a ghastly smile. ‘If you have any, ah, comparable merchandise to offer, I’ll be happy to take a look at it. Top prices.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I may take you up on that.’
‘Then I can expect you to come back?’ he asked hopefully.
‘We’ll see,’ I told him, smiling sweetly.
Are we all thieves?
By that time my feet were aching. I had unloaded seven rings and was carrying almost five thousand dollars in my shoulder bag. It was then getting on to 4:30 P.M., and I figured it was time to start back. I walked two more blocks, caught a cab, and arrived at the shopping center parking lot well before the deadline.
Dick Fleming was leaning against the Ford with a watermelon grin.
‘How’d you make out?’ he asked me.
‘Almost five grand.’
The grin faded a little.
‘My God,’ he said. ‘I did two and thought that was great.’
‘My stuff was worth more,’ I comforted him. ‘Easier to peddle.’
We were exchanging stories of our experiences when Jack Donohue and Hymie Gore pulled up in the same cab. They paid off the driver and walked over to us. I could tell things had gone well by the way Black Jack walked: a jaunty, bouncing stride, his arms swinging.
‘Have a nice day?’ he asked, flashing his dazzling smile.
‘About seven grand between us,’ I told him.
‘Lovely,’ he said. ‘Beautiful. Much better than I had hoped. A couple of ripe ones, you two are. What nobblers! Hymie and I did all right, too. Unloaded almost everything and were invited to hurry back with more. But we won’t be greedy. Not in this town.’
‘How much?’ I asked him.
‘I figure we’re carrying close to twenty. What a sweet payday this has been! Well, tomorrow’s Sunday, and on the seventh day we rest. Let’s go back, stash the green, and get cleaned up. We’ll find us a nice, classy, expensive restaurant, have a steak and drinks, and relax for a few hours before we hit the road. How does that sound?’
We all agreed that sounded just right.
But the stores and boutiques of the shopping center were still open, and I asked Donohue to give me thirty minutes, no more, for a quick and necessary shopping trip. He agreed to thirty minutes, no more.
So about an hour later I hurried back to the Ford, burdened down with boxes, bags, packages. I had made a whirlwind tour and picked up things I needed: cosmetics, tampons, sweaters, skirts, two simple shirtwaist dresses, a fleece-lined jacket, a velour bikini (for Miami), and even a nylon wig in a strawberry shade a little less frightful than the one Donohue had bought for me.
I thought he’d be furious at my tardiness, but Hymie Gore had had the foresight to bring along the bottle of scotch, and it was obvious the three men hadn’t been bored during my absence. They were in a festive, almost roistering mood, and we headed back to the motel with the firm conviction that God was where He should be, and all was right with the world — or at least our small part of it.
Showered, the men shaved, and me dressed in new duds and new wig, we prepared to sally forth to the banquet Jack Donohue had promised. It was then close to 8:00 P.M.
‘Hey,’ Dick Fleming said, ‘if we’re going to hit the road tonight, why don’t we pack now? If we get tanked at dinner, we won’t feel like it when we come back. The rocks and the guns will be j ust as safe inthecarasthey are here.’
Donohue thought that over for a few seconds.
Good idea,’ he said finally. ‘As a matter of fact, let’s check out now. Weil have our dinner and then take off.’
So all the new suitcases were filled with our purchases and stacked in the Ford’s trunk, along with the old suitcasies and the loot. The carryalls went into the back seat, the guns under the seat, and we piled in.
Jack got behind the wheel and pulled up to the motel office. He beeped his horn twice and the clerk came out. He was a tall, shambling gink with no chin. But to make up for it he had an Adam’s apple that looked like an elbow. A fine figure of young louthood.
‘We’re checking out,’ Donohue said, smiling and holding the keys out his opened window. ‘Many thanks for your hospitality. Nice place you got here.’
‘Yeah?’ the clerk said in great surprise. ‘Well, you come back again, y’hear?’
‘We certainly will,’ Black Jack said, and he said it as though he meant it. I mean, you could believe this man. ‘Any idea where we could get a good dinner around here? Steak, roast beef-like that?’
The clerk hesitated.
‘That would be Uncle Tom’s Tavern,’ he said. ‘On the road to Camden. Not real fancy, but real good. Take a left on the highway. It’s about two miles. You’ll see the neon sign on your right.’
‘Much obliged,’ Donohue said politely. ‘Keep up the good work.’ Then, after we had pulled out and turned onto the highway, he said, ‘Uncle Tom’s Tavern? Jesus, can you believe it?’
But it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Larger than we expected. A big parking lot, well filled, and a rambling, one-story building that someone must have thought looked like a colonial tavern. The interior decor carried out the theme: exposed beams in a whitewashed ceiling, two brick fireplaces with lighted gas logs, and oak tables set around with captain’s chairs. There was a long mahogany bar down one side, antiqued mirrors behind it and stools in front upholstered in red vinyl. The bartenders and all the waitresses wore colonial costumes, and the maitre d’ was dressed in knee breeches and a powdered wig. He looked abashed, as well he should.
‘Jeez,’ Hymie Gore said, beaming, ‘this is cute!’
The food was not bad. Not great, but not bad. We all ordered the same thing, figuring it would take less time. The Little Neck clams were fresh and cold (Hymie had a dozen), the salad was crisp, the French bread hot and crusty. When the entrees were served, there was plenty of sour cream and chives for the baked potatoes, the ribs of roast beef (bone in) were reasonably tender, and the string beans had been cooked with bacon. Ersatz bacon, of course, but who cared? Warm apple pie for dessert, with a slice of American cheese on each wedge. A big pitcher of hot coffee set in the middle of the table.
It wasn’t the Four Seasons, but for Camden, NJ, it was a pleasant surprise. Or maybe we were all in a mellow mood from the drinks: two rounds before we ordered, another with the clams, two bottles of California burgundy with the beef, cognac with the coffee.
By this time Hymie Gore was burping like a maniac, tapping a knuckle constantly against his lips, and muttering, “Scuse. ‘Scuse. ‘Scuse.’
‘And now,’ I said, ‘if you gentlemen will pardon me. Nature calls.’ They looked at me blearily. ‘No, no,’ I said, ‘don’t get up. I’ll manage.’
I found the women’s lounge, peed, repaired my makeup, resettled my wig, and headed back to our table. The restrooms were up two stairs at the rear of the dining room. As I came down the steps, I glanced towards the noisy bar. Almost every stool was taken; the bartenders were hustling.
In the mirror behind the bar I spotted a familiar face. A man sitting at the far end. I almost stopped. But if I could see him in the bar mirror, he could see me. I continued my slow walk back to our table, looking at my companions and smiling. I was so goddamned nonchalant, it hurt.
I slid into my chair, pulled closer to the littered table, picked up my napkin. Jack Donohue was seated on my right. I leaned close to him, smiling, put a hand on one of his.
‘Jack, darling,’ I cooed, ‘we may have trouble. Come towards me, smile and laugh like everything’s okay.’
I didn’t have to cue him twice; he responded immediately. He slid his free arm across my shoulders, pulled his chair closer.
‘You two guys go on drinking,’ he said to Fleming and
Gore out of the corner of his mouth. ‘Don’t look up. Don’t stare at us. What is it, Jannie?’
And all the time he was laughing, nodding. To an observer thirty feet away, everything would look copacetic: a nice friendly, somewhat drunken dinner for four.
‘Don’t look now,’ I said. ‘A guy at the far end of the bar. Standing. Youngish. Baldish, wearing a black patch over his right eye.’
Donohue took his arm from my shoulder, still smiling. He shook a cigarette from a pack on the table, lighted it, put his head back to blow a plume of smoke upward. I saw his eyes dart.
‘Got him,’he said.
‘Know him?’
‘No. Looks like a fink. Who is he?’
‘Owner of the last jewelry store I hit. Didn’t haggle. Paid what I asked immediately. In cash. Asked if I had any more merchandise like that. Very anxious that I should return.’
‘I see,’ Donohue said slowly. ‘I see.’
Dick Fleming and Hymie Gore had been busy with their coffee and brandies. But they had been listening.
‘It could be a coincidence,’ Dick said. ‘Maybe he’s waiting for a date. Maybe he’s just here to have Saturday night dinner by himself and is waiting for a table.’
‘Oh sure,’ Jack said. ‘A Philadelphia jeweler drives across the bridge, through Camden, just to have Saturday night dinner by himself in Uncle Tom’s Tavern. Some coincidence! What did you do after you left his place, Jannie?’
I thought back, trying to remember.
‘It was the last place 1 hit. After I left, I walked two blocks, caught a cab, went back to the parking lot.’
‘Was he the only one in the store?’
‘Yes. No. I don’t know. There was a back room, curtained off. There might have been someone in there. He was the only one I saw.’
Jack Donohue sighed. ‘I don’t like it. He could have smelled something. Decided to tail you. Followed you back to the shopping center. Waited. Then tailed us to the motel and here. It’s possible.’
‘I’m sorry, Jack,’ I said humbly.
‘Not your fault,’ he said shortly. ‘Mine. I should have warned you. I should have had my head on a swivel, watching for a tail.’
‘Jack, you don’t know,” Fleming said in an urgent whisper. ‘It might be entirely innocent. It might be just a coincidence, like I said.’
‘Might, might,’ Donohue repeated. ‘Anything might be.’ He was silent a moment, then: ‘All right, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to signal for the check, pay it, leave a tip. Then we’re all going to get up and move slowly toward the door. Slowly — get it? We’re all talking and laughing. Not a care in the world. Now, the moment we’re outside, Jannie, you and Fleming and me, we hightail it for the car, get in, go screaming out of the lot. Hyme, you fade into the shadows. Dig? Somewhere on the lot or over to one side. Somewhere where you can watch the door. Now if that guy doesn’t follow us right away, then it’s just a crazy coincidence, like Dick says, and no harm done. But if he comes barrel-assing out after us, then you’ve got to take him, Hyme. You understand?’
‘Sure, Jack,’ Gore said. ‘I understand. You want I should step on him?’
I saw Dick Fleming’s face go white, and I clasped my hands to hide the tremble. The day had been fun, a lark. The dinner had been a celebration. Now here was the bleached skull behind the laughing mask.
‘Nooo,’ Donohue said slowly, ‘don’t squash him, Hyme. That would cause too many problems, too much heat. We got enough already. Just cold-cock him. Make it look like your everyday, run-of-the-mill mugging. Turn his pockets inside out. Take his wallet, credit cards, wristwatch. Try to leave him in his own car if you can. People coming by will think it’s a drunk sleeping. If not his car, roll him under any heap. I’ll come back for you in about five minutes. Got all that, Hyme?’
‘Got it, Jack. No sweat.’
‘Good,’ Donohue said. ‘Just remember, I’ll come back for you no matter how it turns out. Everyone knows what to do? Don’t look towards the guy as we leave. We don’t know he exists. Let’s go …’
He called for the bill, paid cash, left a generous tip. We all rose to our feet, laughing and joking. Moved slowly toward the door. Reclaimed our coats from the cloakroom, still chattering and smiling. Went out the door.
The moment it closed behind us, Donohue, Fleming and I walked rapidly to the Ford. Jack unlocked the doors, got behind the wheel. Dick and I piled in. We pulled out of the parking lot with a chirp of tires. Hymie Gore was nowhere to be seen. He had disappeared somewhere between the parked cars. We didn’t look back.
‘What time is it?’ Donohue asked harshly.
I was in the back. Fleming was in the passenger seat next to Jack. Dick held his wrist close to the dash.
‘About seventeen to eleven,’ he said, a tremor in his voice.
‘All right,’ Donohue said, ‘keep an eye on your watch. When it’s a quarter to eleven, let me know.’
We drove slowly toward Camden. Dick leaned forward, watching the minute hand move around. No one spoke.
‘A quarter to eleven, Jack, Fleming said finally.
Donohue let traffic go by, then made a screeching U-turn and headed back to Uncle Tom’s Tavern, still driving slowly.
Hymie Gore was waiting for us on the verge of the highway; we didn’t even have to turn into the parking lot. I opened the back door, he climbed in. Jack accelerated, speeding toward the Turnpike.
‘Got his wallet, watch, credit cards,’ Hymie said. ‘Just like you told me, Jack.’
‘Then he came after us?’
‘Oh, sure,’ Gore said. ‘Like a bat out of hell. I took him just as he was getting into his car. He’s in there now. Sleeping.’
‘Nice work, Hyme.’
‘A piece of cake,’ Gore said. ‘Everything’s all right now.’
‘Uh-huh,’ Jack Donohue said. Then: ‘We should have killed the cocksucker.’