Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 20, No. 1, January 1975

Colloquies in Quad by Frank Sisk

Some birds seem to need the security of their cages.

“Welcome aboard. What’s your name?”

“Call me Alec. What’s yours?”

“Alec what?”

“Alec Smith. Alec Jones. Alec Brown. White. Black. Gray. I got a wide choice.”

“Have you been here before, Alec?”

“Nohow. I make a steady habit of staying out of these places. What are you, man — some kind of jailhouse quiz kid?”

“Not at all. I’m an involuntary guest just like you. The name’s Cornelius Fitzhugh, but don’t call me Connie or anything like that. Fitz is all right.”

“Fitz it is, then. Is the upper bunk yours, Fitz?”

“Well, not by preference. This cell already had an occupant when I arrived here a week ago. Hippie character. Hair growing out of everything, ears and nose included. He slept a hell of a lot. Probably full of skag. Didn’t talk much and mumbled at best. The grapevine said the fuzz had caught him with a van full of color television, wide-band radio and quadrasonic stereo. They took him out of here two days ago, probably to be drawn and quartered. Anyway, when I arrived a week ago this cat was pretty well tucked into the lower bunk, so I took the upper. I’m kind of used to it now. Any objections?”

“No sweat, man. The lower suits me fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. I can sleep on cracked ice, man.”

“Good, Alec. Very good indeed. How long do you expect to be in residence?”

“You mean here?”

“Yes.”

“My lawyer’s working on that angle.”

“So is mine. Whenever he sobers up and thinks of it. What were you nailed for?”

“There you go with questions again, Fitzy.”

“Fitz is enough, Alec. Long diminutives repel me.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do say.”

“I’ll try to remember.”

“Thanks. Now, what are you in for, Alec? After all, it’s a matter of public record.”

“So’s my name. And date and place of birth. But I don’t give these things out to every jock that comes up and asks.”

“Well, that’s something else again.”

“That’s privacy, man, personal privacy.”

“You can’t have much of that in here, Alec. The monotony gets almost bearable when you trade a few secrets with the guy you share the john with.”

“Listen, man, you give off some oddball vibes I can’t figure. And you sure don’t look like a dude who’d land in the can on any run-a-the-mill bust. You got an upper-brackets way about you and a name that spells it out. Cornelius Fitzhugh. Cornelius yet. So whyn’t we start all over again, Fitz, and try it from the other corner. What the hell they got a fat cat like you behind bars for? Answer me that and maybe we’ll go on from there.”

“Alimony, nonpayment of.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I guess that figures. I didn’t know they still jugged guys for that.”

“They do if you’ve got a vicious ex-wife and a hard-drinking lawyer.”

“You can dump the lawyer, man.”

“I’m planning to. Meanwhile I’m going to sit out a couple of hands.”

“You owe a bundle?”

“If that’s the way you describe ten thousand.”

“And you can’t put it together?”

“I can put it together twenty times over, Alec. I just won’t. I’m stubborn that way. Let the leech wait upon my own convenience. I won’t pay a red cent until I’m good and ready, whenever that is.”

“Cool, very cool.”

“Now it’s your turn. What brought you to this sad little cell?”

“I snatched a purse.”

“You don’t look the type.”

“This purse was more like what they call it an attaché case.”

“That sounds better. What were the contents, Alec? Military plans for World War Three?”

“Negotiable securities, about a million’s worth.”

“Big time. What did you do? Snatch it from a bank messenger?”

“No. From a stockbroker. When you snatch something like this from a bank messenger you got to sort of take the buzzard’s arm along with it and his shoulder and backbone too. A bank messenger likes to handcuff a thing like this to his damn wrist and throw the key away. No. This was a Wall Street character, an old kind of stud with gray hair, a good-sized pot and thick glasses. A real pushover. He was walking from one building to another in the same block, carrying this case in his right hand, very nonchalant like. I ripped it off and was already about half across the street before he knew it was missing and then he began to yell something about robbery. I was heading toward a car parked around the corner with the motor running when I slipped on this banana peel.”

“Incredible.”

“I got the bruises to prove it. I ought to sue the Sanitation Department. Anyway, I slipped, one hell of a pratfall, man. And I hit my head against the side of a utility pole. This dazed me for maybe all of a minute. Long enough. When I got in focus again a cop built like young King Kong was helping me to my feet. I wasn’t holding the case. It must have been knocked out of my hand when I fell. The old stud was holding it again, in both hands this time, and going strong on the subject of grand larceny. My lawyer figures this is my loophole.”

“Figures what is your loophole, Alec?”

“The fact that nobody actually seen me with this case in my hand. Nobody, that is, but the old stud. And he don’t have twenty-twenty vision exactly. By the way, Fitz, I hope you’re forgetting all this just as fast as I been telling it. For your own good. Do you get it?”

“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”

“That’s the safe way.”

“Have a cigarette, Alec.”

“Don’t mind if I do. The pigs give me a receipt for mine and my lighter. They don’t trust nobody.”

“Out you come, gents. Time for supper.”

“What’s on the menu tonight, McGee?”

“Well, now, Fitz, I think I heard the chef say something about starting off with champagne and caviar. How zat sound?”

“What kind of caviar?”

“He didn’t say.”

“You’ve been gone more than an hour, Alec.”

“My mouthpiece is all mouth, Fitz. But he did slip me some cigarettes.”

“Did he slip you any good news to accompany the weed?”

“In a way.”

“You’re going to make bail.”

“Maybe in a couple a days. We’re waiting for a hardnose in the D.A.’s office to take a vacation. He’s due off in a couple a more days.”

“You know, Alec, I always understood a guy with your connections never languished in quad more than twelve hours. Twenty-four at most. In and out. Fast. Like an eel in a lobster trap.”

“What do you mean, my connections?”

“Well, I heard you’ve got good ones, with special influence in certain quarters.”

“You better spell it out a little, Fitzy.”

“Please, Alec. Not Fitzy.”

“Spell it out, Fitz.”

“It’s been coming in over the grapevine since you took up residence.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re described as an arm of organized crime, Alec — a strong arm.”

“Anything else?”

“A hit man, they say. A real pro. With the heaviest score east of Saint Louis. Of course a lot of things are grossly exaggerated in a place like this. Gossip twists the facts out of all true proportion. I take it all cum grano salis, Alec.”

“Take it and stuff it, man.”

“Up and at ’em, gents. Brook trout for breakfast.”

“Listen, McGee. When am I going to be able to rent a radio?”

“You’re next on the list, Fitz.”

“Alec.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d like to ask you something in sworn confidentiality.”

“Go to it, man.”

“Promise you won’t be annoyed.”

“I’m never annoyed I’m always cool, Fitz. Haven’t you noticed?”

“Cool is the word all right, Alec. Please remain so while I ask this simple question. In sworn confidentiality. Are you really what the grapevine says you are?”

“What if I am?”

“In that case we might do a little business together.”

“What kind of business?”

“Hit-and-run.”

“Hit who and run where? In this joint I don’t have much leeway, man. None, in fact. Ain’t you kinda noticed that?”

“I’m talking about when you get out, Alec.”

“I’m listening.”

“It concerns my—”

“Here comes McGee.”

“Afternoon, gents. How’d you like a stroll in the yard? Nice sunny day outside.”

“I accept, McGee, without equivocation.”

“I thought you would, Fitz. And I really wish I could fix it for you. Don’t look so disappointed. I do have some good news. That radio. You’ll get it tomorrow. One of your neighbors is moving up to the big house.”

“Hey, Alec. Are you asleep?”

“No.”

“About that talk we started to have this afternoon.”

“What about it?”

“Do you mind if we continue?”

“If that’s what turns you on, man, you can just be my guest.”

“What turns me on — and off too — is my ex-wife. She’s a true-blue biddy, Alec. Always was, always will be. Right now she’s trying to milk me for a grand a week while she’s making out with another man, practically living with him.”

“I heard of such things, Fitz. Tough shake.”

“I want to do something about it.”

“Don’t blame you.”

“I want her wasted. I believe that’s the word.”

“That’s one of them. Why?”

“Why? Because alive she’s going to cost me a grand a week. That’s fifty-two grand a year. It could go on for years and years, Alec. Isn’t that reason enough?”

“I guess so. Well, good luck.”

“Obviously I can’t do the job myself. I’d be number-one suspect before she got cold. The cops would have me under the hot lights in no time.”

“Good thinking, Fitz.”

“However, if Eva were wasted while I was still under lock-and-key, the coast would be clear. Is that still good thinking, Alec?”

“It’s good.”

“So how about it?”

“Is this a contract offer, man?”

“That’s right.”

“It takes a stack of bread, man. You got any idea how much?”

“Not really.”

“Maybe even more than a guy with a name like yours can stack. Cornelius Alimony Fitzhugh. Take a guess.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“How’s thirty K strike you?”

“Thirty K?”

“Or like you say, grand.”

“Thirty grand. It sounds reasonable. Is it a deal?”

“It might be. If you got that kind of greenery stashed here in the mattress.”

“I’m really serious about this, Alec.”

“I’ll get serious too, man. As soon as I see the bread.”

“You know I haven’t got it on me.”

“I know.”

“It’s all in safe-deposit boxes where Eva and her lawyer can’t get their greedy mitts on it. Before I cut off the alimony payments I gradually liquefied my assets and then buried them deep where only I can dig them up. But dig them up I will as soon as Eva’s off my back. Yes, Alec, I’ll take you to my nearest cache and joyfully pay into your hand a secret thirty grand or, if you prefer, thirty K. You have my word on it as a gentleman and a cellmate.”

“Crazy.”

“What’s so crazy about it?”

“In my line we don’t deal in IOU’s, Fitz. Cash before delivery. That’s the policy.”

“The policy shall have to be altered in this case.”

“Yeah? What makes you think so?”

“Well, let’s face the facts. I can’t get the cash without leaving here. I can’t leave here unless I pay a three-month arrears in alimony. That amounts to more than twelve thousand bucks. But if I should petition the court and pay up and get out, my freedom itself would make me a prime suspect in the event of my ex-wife’s murder. Ergo, it is essential to the plan that I be certifiably in durance when Eva’s life is snuffed out. So?”

“So what?”

“Will you take the contract, Alec?”

“Not a chance, man.”

“Would you consider it if I sweeten it up a little?”

“Not a chance.”

“What if I add to the thirty thousand the twelve I’d save on back alimony? That’s forty-two big ones, Alec. A man can go places with forty-two.”

“You’re spinning your wheels, Fitz.”

“You mean you don’t trust me?”

“I trust in God. All others pay cash. That’s a piece of my code.”

“Is that your last word?”

“You catch on.”

“Good morning, Fitz.”

“Good morning, McGee. Is that a radio under your arm?”

“Nothing else but.”

“Eureka!”

“No, it’s a Japanese make.”

“I thank you, McGee. Just charge the rental to my commissary account.”

“Don’t worry.”

“You’re not smiling, Alec. Does that mean the great mouthpiece brought negative news?”

“I’m making bail. I’ll be sprung in an hour.”

“Then why the long face?”

“The party putting up the bail also gives me the word to jump it.”

“Is that so bad in your line of work, Alec?”

“It definitely ain’t good, man. It means somebody don’t trust me in front of the grand jury.”

“So they want you to make yourself scarce.”

“That’s about it. Which means I need running money, Fitz. A big pocketful of bread.”

“Won’t your patron supply you with that?”

“The word I get is they’re writing off the bail bond and that’s all. I’m on my own. It’s your lucky day, Fitz.”

“Oh?”

“That contract you want to let.”

“Oh yes.”

“I got ten days before the grand jury wants me. Time to handle a contract. For fifty K.”

“Fifty?”

“If it’s too rich, forget it.”

“It’s not the price, Alec. The job’s worth every penny of it. But what about your policy of cash before delivery?”

“I’m changing that just this once.”

“So you trust me at last.”

“Like hell I do. But I need the bread bad. Once I do my part, how long will it take your lawyer to spring you?”

“About five days, I’d guess.”

“Five days? Why so long?”

“Well, the court requires certain formalities, as I understand it. To purge myself of contempt I’d have to get my lawyer to present proof of my ex-wife’s death, together with a petition of some sort. A good five days, I’d say.”

“No more than five days?”

“That should do it.”

“Okay. Now today’s Tuesday. I’ll do the job tomorrow. That’s Wednesday. As soon as you get the word, you start your lawyer in motion. That gives him Thursday and Friday to collect his papers. We got to write off the weekend. Which brings us to Monday. You think you can get loose by then, man?”

“I’ll guarantee it.”

“And you better believe I’ll be watching the damn court dockets like a damn hawk. As soon as you set foot on the street I’ll be close to you as your socks and we’ll quick-step it to your handiest safe-deposit box.”

“Perfect.”

“Remember, I got to get my tail outa the country before the grand jury calls. Now tell me all I ought to know about this broad.”

“After the sound of the gong we’ll be bringing you the eleventh-hour news...

“Less than an hour ago sudden death finally caught up with lovely society matron Eva Merritt as she stepped from her car in a parking lot near a beauty salon where she had a standing appointment every Wednesday morning. Police say Mrs. Merritt was shot in the head at close range by a person unknown who probably used a silencer. Nobody heard the shot and no eyewitnesses have come forward as yet. Only two weeks ago this same woman narrowly escaped death when she and her husband, Dr. Peter Watkins Merritt, were taking an after-dinner stroll outside their Fifth Avenue residence. At that time the bullet missed by a fraction of an inch, ripping through the sleeve of the fur coat she was wearing. Both the doctor and his wife saw the assailant as he fled down an alley and tentatively identified him as her first husband, Cornelius Fitzhugh. Police arrested Fitzhugh two hours later at Laurelton Farms on Long Island where he was employed as a trainer of blooded horses. He steadfastly denied making the attempt on the life of his former wife who had won a hotly contested divorce against him three years earlier and had even settled an undisclosed sum of money on him as alimony...”

“Top of the morning, Fitz.”

“Same to you, McGee.”

“This is one Thursday you won’t forget in a hurry, I bet.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s the Thursday the D.A. decided to wipe your slate clean. You’re as free as a bird, Fitz. Step right on out of your cage now.”

“I don’t want to step out of my cage.”

“You don’t have much choice. The investigation has been dropped. We need the room and a bookie down the block needs the radio. So out with you, Fitz, and I’ll take you up to the office where you can collect your valuables.”

“I can’t leave, McGee. I just can’t.”

“You’ll leave if I have to drag you. Out you go. Out!”

“No, no, no. You don’t understand, McGee. I’ve got to stay here eight more days.”

“That’s not the way I hear it.”

“Fitzy.”

“Hello, Alec.”

“You look a little pale, Fitzy.”

“I suppose so.”

“But I think we can fix that, Fitzy. We’ll take a little spin in the country and get a little fresh air. See that green car near the parking meter?”

“Yes.”

“Just walk toward that, Fitzy.”