The Kidnapper (6 page)

So I worked the same line with him that I had with Mary. Only I told it just a little bit different. I left out all the names. I talked like it was all set up, and I had my people in on it. One for the inside work, and one for driving.

He didn’t seem to get too upset about it. Not when I kept talking about the dough, and what it would buy. “Ought to be at least two hundred grand,” I said. “Split three ways. All in cash, no taxes, no trouble.”

“That’s pretty dangerous, what you’re talking about.”

“You know me, Specs. I never tackle anything I’m not sure of. And I’m sick of working. I don’t want to end up the way you’re going to—fifty years old with a lousy couple of grand in the bank and nothing to show for it.”

“But we’re going to be all set this summer, I thought. And now you’ll be leaving town—”

“Who the hell said anything about leaving town?” I asked him. “That’s the real beauty part of this job. It’s so safe nobody would ever know. There won’t be any running away, holing up someplace and waiting for the cops. It’s a foolproof scheme—I’ve been working on it for months. You wouldn’t find a setup like this in years. Why, the guy who’ll be doing the driving won’t even have to quit his job. In fact it’ll be better if he doesn’t—because nobody’ll get suspicious then.”

I stared at him. “Specs, I got an idea. I don’t know how you feel about this, but I know how I feel. I’m only going to ask you once—and no hard feelings whichever way you answer. Would you like in on this? Would you want to drive the car, for sixty-six grand?”

Specs looked at me. Then he picked up his glass and drank.

“All right, Steve. It’s a deal.”

“Tomorrow night after work, then,” I told him. “We’ll get together and I’ll tell you all about it.”

“Why not now?”

“Not in public. From now on, everything goes according to plan. This is one job that’s going to be done right.”

And I meant it.

So far it had worked perfect. And unless I was wrong about my timing, the next step would come very soon.

I wasn’t wrong.

Eight days had been enough. Mary Adams came up to my room the following afternoon.

I was ready for her. The minute she came in, I scowled and slammed the door shut.

“Steve, I couldn’t stand it any longer. I had to see you, I had to. I been like crazy all week. I don’t care what you want to do, Steve, just so’s we’re together. I don’t care.”

I walked over to her and grabbed her by the hair.

“Go ahead, Steve, go ahead and hit me. I want you to, I deserve it.”

I bit her in the mouth until I tasted blood, and I could taste something else, too. Money.

Chapter Seven

“Y
ou’re sure Shirley Mae will be all right?”

It was about the tenth time she’d asked me the question that afternoon, but I was being very patient.

“Of course she will. We aren’t going to hurt the kid. I wouldn’t be dumb enough to pull a stunt like that—why, getting her back in good shape is the most important part of the whole deal. It’ll help take the heat off.”

“You got it all planned?”

“Of course. Why, in a couple of days we’ll have the dough and the kid’ll be back home safe and sound. It’ll be like sort of a vacation for her, with this cottage and all.”

“You even picked out a cottage? You must of been awfully sure I’d come back.”

“Well, no, I haven’t picked one out yet. But I’m going to, tomorrow; I been thinking about it.” I had let
that
slip, and I reminded myself to take it easy. Slow and easy.

“Steve, you’re positive you know what you’re doing?”

“What’s the matter, don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, darling. But it’s so dangerous.”

“Only for the dumb guys. I was reading up, I know. The important thing is to pull the job so nobody even finds out who did it. And that’s the way I’ve got this thing planned. Why, Specs won’t even have to quit his job.”

“This Specs—you’re sure you can trust him?”

“He’s my best friend. That’s why I picked him out. He’s a little guy, kind of quiet. Nobody would ever suspect.”

“But won’t they connect him up with you?”

“Sure. Only I won’t be in the picture, either. I’m going to quit my job now, in advance. By the time we go to work, I’ll be forgotten. My name’ll never appear.” I leaned over and cupped her chin. “You never told anyone about us, did you?”

“Of course not, lover.”

I kissed her. “That’s a good girl. See that you don’t. Because it helps keep you clear, too.”

She frowned. “You know, that’s the one part I can’t understand. I’ll be getting Shirley Mae from school that day. The Warrens will know that. And then I disappear. Won’t the police come looking for me right away?”

“Look, honey, do you think I’d go through with this if I thought you were going to be in a bad spot? That was the first thing I figured out—how to make sure you’d be safe. Don’t worry. A month from today you’ll be the best-looking blonde in Miami Beach!”

“Blonde?”

“Sure. I’ll tell you the whole thing, what you’ve got to do. First of all, how much money you got saved?”

“Nine hundred dollars, like I told you.”

“All right, the day before we pull the job, you go downtown in the afternoon and put five hundred into a Savings and Loan account. I’ll tell you which place to go to, and I want you to ask a lot of questions about how Savings and Loan operates. You know, how much interest you get, stuff like that there.”

“But we could use five hundred—”

“We’ll have money coming out of our ears!” I told her. “This five hundred is your insurance policy. Now shut up and listen!”

“All right, Steve.”

“You deposit five hundred bucks, and make sure you tell the guy your boy friend is coming home from Korea this fall—you want to get married then. See? That’s why I want you to go to a Savings and Loan joint instead of a bank. So you get a chance to talk to someone, and he’ll remember you. Because the cops will investigate everything you’ve done for the past week or so at least. And what will they find? Here’s a girl puts her savings into an account, plans on getting hitched. Doesn’t sound like she’s going to be involved in a kidnapping the very next day, does it?”

“But I’ll have disappeared.”

“That’s right. And they’ll look for you—but not for kidnapping, just for questioning. And they’ll never find you.”

“How’ll you work that?”

“I was coming to it, if you’d only shut up for a while and listen. You take Shirley Mae out of school. Specs is waiting to pick you up, in the alley before the corner. He’ll drive back down the alley, not out on the street. You’ll be at the cottage in half an hour, long before anybody misses you at the house. It’ll take that long for Paul to figure something’s gone wrong. Then, for a day or so, they’ll be trying to locate you.

“The police will come out to the house. They’ll find all your clothes and stuff, still there. Nothing missing. First thing they’ll figure is somebody snatched you both. And the call will go out to locate Mary Adams. Five three, weight one-twenty or whatever, brown hair, brown eyes.

“But don’t worry. There won’t be any such person any more. Instead there’ll be a Mrs. George Henderson, who moved into a cottage out at Long Lake the day before, for a two-week vacation with her husband. Mrs. George Henderson’ll be about five five with high heels on, and she wears sunglasses outdoors and horn-rimmed glasses indoors. And she’ll have blonde hair. She’ll also have entirely different clothes—I’ll buy ’em with the four hundred you got left. Nobody will have seen me, so they won’t look for me. Specs will still be working. Perfect setup.”

“But won’t they get suspicious after a while?”

“Sure. They’ll suspect everybody—but by the time the second day rolls around, the police will get a letter from you. It’s going to tell all about the kidnapping. Three men in a blue Chevvie, looked like Mexicans or Dagos. How they came up alongside you and snatched the kid and drove off. How you were scared when they let you out uptown, heading south. How you were afraid to go back because you knew you’d get mixed up with the cops, get all this publicity, lose your job. So you took a bus there at the uptown terminal and kept going. And now you’ll never come back.”

“But the letter’ll be postmarked—”

“New Orleans, airmail. Haven’t you ever read any of these ads in the back of the magazines?
Amaze Your Friends
—you send two bits to some guy in New Orleans or California and he re-mails your letter from there, makes whoever gets it think you’ve been travelling. That’s what we’ll do. The letter goes out when we snatch the kid. It gets to New Orleans, is airmailed back. The heat’s off. And when the police get to checking on you and find out about the Savings and Loan and nothing being missing, they’ll believe the pitch. So you’re safe, too.”

“But won’t somebody see Shirley Mae at the cottage? And what about collecting the ransom money? And returning her to the Warrens?”

“They’ll never see the kid at the cottage. First of all, because I’m going to make sure that the one next door to wherever we go isn’t rented. Secondly, because we won’t bring her into the house until after dark.”

I patted her arm. “And about the ransom money, and getting her back home—that’s my department. You don’t think I’m letting you and Specs take all the risk, do you? My job is to get the dough, safely. And return the kid, safely. And I’ve got both those deals figured out just as careful as all the rest. So stop worrying.”

“I just can’t help—”

“Quit talking. You and I got better things to do.” I reached for her. “It’s been a week hasn’t it? A week since you and I—”

After, I said, “That’s only a sample, baby. Wait until I get you all to myself down there on one of those moonlight beaches, with the palm trees and the stars and everything. You can lay out there all night, every night, listening to the waves pound and watch the moon come up over the water.”

“It sounds heavenly.”

“It will be.” I poked her. “Come on, get up. We’re going for a ride.”

“In what?”

“Come and see.”

I took her outside and showed her the car. Women are funny. I guess it was the car that sold her more than anything. She couldn’t get over it.

“We’ll get another one down South, too,” I told her. “A convertible. Just stick with me, kid. We’re going places.”

“Yes, Steve. Yes.”

That’s the kind of talk I wanted to hear from her. And that night I got the same answers from Specs.

I took him out after work and told him the setup. With him I went into details—how I planned on getting the money, how we’d arrange for a getaway after the heat cooled down. None of this moonlight on the beach baloney for Specs. He had to feel sure that he could depend on me, that I knew what I was doing. And most of all, that it was safe.

“But what if they see me driving the car?” he asked. “With the girl in it and the kid?”

“Nobody’ll be looking for you that soon. And I told you, they’ll be down inside the back, nobody’ll spot them. Besides, you’re going back to work at five.”

“That’s going to be awful, keeping on working.”

“It’s the best part of the whole deal, for you,” I said. “Who in hell would ever connect you up with this kidnapping in the first place? You’re doing the same as you always have. Work every night. You won’t even have to come out to the place, except to get your cut of the dough when the time comes. Then, in about a month or so, you feel like quitting, you quit. You can join us down South, someplace. We’ll figure it out. But the whole thing is like taking candy from a baby.”

“How about you? They’ll notice you’re gone from the shop.”

“No they won’t, Specs. Because I’m leaving tomorrow night, two weeks ahead of time. And I’m not quitting, either. I’m getting fired.”

And that’s the way it happened.

The next night, Tuesday, I stalled around until maybe seven o’clock. I’d been busy most of the afternoon, anyway, locating the people who owned this cottage. I found them, too—rented it for two weeks starting June fifteenth. For my wife and myself, for our vacation. And I found out that the next one down the line wasn’t rented until July first. Plenty of time.

Then I ate and drifted in around seven.

Cutrelli was waiting for me, just like I figured he would be.

“Now what’s the story, Collins? You get another attack of the flu?”

“Well, I wasn’t feeling so hot, tell the truth.”

I stood up close to him, so he could smell the two drinks I’d taken on purpose across the street just before I came in.

“Truth, my foot. You’ve been drinking.”

“Just one, for the cold I got.” I swayed a little.

“Collins, you’re drunk! I’m getting fed up with this stuff. We’re loaded with jobs as it is, and you keep turning up missing.”

“You don’t have to holler at me.”

“Holler at you? I got a good notion to can you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. You might as well check out right now.”

“All right. To hell with you.” I walked away. “But first I got something else to settle.”

I walked back into the shop and he followed me. I went over to Specs. He looked up, because he knew what was coming—I’d coached him in advance.

“Look,” I said. “This sorehead here just gave me my notice. So let’s you and I settle up. Where’s that twenty you borrowed off me two weeks ago?”

“What twenty, Steve?”

“Whaddya mean, what twenty? That twenty bucks I loaned you over at Miller’s Tavern, two weeks ago Saturday.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never borrowed no twenty bucks from you.”

I grabbed him by the collar. “The hell you didn’t! You said you’d pay me back last Thursday. Come on now, I’m leaving. Where is it?”

“Take your hands off me.” I was holding him tight enough so that when he said it, it would sound like he really meant it.

“Let him alone, Collins,” Cutrelli yelled.

“All right, you asked for it!” I batted Specs one across the side of the jaw, hard enough so that he fell back over the bench. The other guys were looking up now, and coming over.

“Hit a guy wearing glasses, will you?” Cutrelli said. He stepped forward and stuck out his left. That was just what I’d been waiting for. I moved to one side, back, then came in. I swung from my hip. My right came up under his jaw and I heard a sound like a bat connecting with a ball for a homer over the fence.