In a Small Motel

4

For a few moments Ginny was able to look at the world through the eyes of the sick Mr. Brown. Everyone knew. Everyone watched him. Everyone watched him with cold amusement, superior scorn.

“But it isn’t the way you think it is—” she started.

“It’s no use, Ginny,” Don said. His voice was odd. She turned and looked at him in surprise. There was an odd look on his face. He said, “You’re right, Mr. Brown. We all know about it. We were ready for you when you got here.”

“Of course,” Brown said quietly.

Don leaned forward. “But we could — change sides.”

Ginny saw Brown become rigid. He seemed to cease to breathe for a time. “Why?” he demanded.

Don reached over and placed his hand flat atop the stacked money. “Answer enough?”

“How do I know it isn’t a trick?” Brown asked. “You could pretend to help me get away without their knowing. Maybe you would be merely — continuing the sport.”

Don said scornfully, “Don’t you know us better than that? It’s against the rules for us to take any of the money. Once we take the money it means we’ve turned against them.”

Brown frowned at him. “Is that one of the rules?”

“Didn’t you know that?”

“How much would you have to take?” Brown asked.

Ginny watched Don take a bundle of the currency out of the suitcase. His hand was very steady. She noticed that he picked stacks of the older bills. Stacks of twenties and fifties and hundreds. He took out ten stacks and set them aside.

“This much,” he said.

“It’s a lot,” Brown said.

“But think of the risk we’re taking.”

Brown thought a moment, nodded. “That’s true. What is your plan?”

“Do you know how we’ve followed you?”

“That has bothered me. I’ve changed routes dozens of times when there was no car in sight. But you people have always known.”

“A device was installed on your car. It gives off an electrical impulse. And we’ve followed the car by radar.”

Ginny watched Brown, saw him puzzle it out, accept it. “That explains a great deal,” he said, nodding.

“I’ll disconnect the device,” Don said, “and install it on my car. Mrs. Mallory and I will drive north in my car and they will think you have doubled back on your tracks. You head south. If you’re clever, they’ll never find you again.”

“And how will you avoid punishment?” Brown demanded.

“While we’re traveling north, I’ll disconnect it and throw it out at the side of the road. I’ll report that we were following you and lost you. They’ll think you discovered the device and threw it out yourself on your way north.”

Brown shifted uneasily. He looked at Ginny and then at Don Ferris. “We’ll go to my car and you will show me the device.”

Don shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t do that.”

“Another rule?” Brown asked dubiously.

“Of course,” Don said. “I’ll have to do that alone.”

The gun hand sagged slowly. Brown pulled it back up with a visible effort. “I’ll let you out,” he said. “I’ll stay here with Mrs. Mallory. Go change it from my car to yours and come back when you’ve done it.” He reached behind him and unlocked the door. He glanced out, pushed the screen open to back out. Don stood up and took a step toward the door.

Ginny heard a thud, a grunt of effort, a scrape of shoe leather on concrete. The screen slammed. Don stood poised for a moment. Johnny Benton pulled the door open awkwardly and came in, walking Brown ahead of him. Brown’s arm was twisted up into the small of his back, and his lips were flattened back against his teeth with pain. Johnny looked very big, very brown, very welcome. Brown’s glasses hung from one ear. As Johnny shoved him roughly forward the glasses fell to the floor and Brown’s foot came down on them, crunching the lenses. Holding the man with almost contemptuous ease, Johnny examined the revolver in his other hand. He slid it into his hip pocket.

“What goes with this character?” Johnny demanded. “I never heard crazier talk in my life.”

“It’s been in the papers and on the radio for four days,” Don said. He stepped beyond Johnny and pulled the door shut. Johnny had seen the money on the bed. He stared at it and licked his lips and stared some more.

“Heavenly hosts,” he said softly.

“Let go of my arm,” Brown said.

“Sure. You go sit right there and be good,” Johnny said. “Are you okay, Ginny?”

“I’m all right.” She felt better. Johnny was like a breath of fresh air in the room.

Don stood with his hands in his pockets. He was frowning at the money.

Brown sat on a straight chair by the windows. Without the glasses his eyes looked mild and dazed. He said, “You’ll be interested to know that Mr. Ferris and this woman have accepted money. They were going to help me get away. I understand that is against the rules.”

“Shut up,” Don Ferris said thinly. He walked over to the bed, picked up some of the stacks of money, dropped them back into the suitcase. He took out his cigarettes. Ginny accepted one. He didn’t offer one to Johnny. Johnny pulled a single cigarette out of his pants’ pocket.

“Is he nuts?” Johnny asked.

“Completely,” Don said. “It was one of those crazy things. So damn casual about taking it, he walked right out past the guards. He’d worked there thirty years.”

“Twenty-eight,” Brown said.

Don ignored him. “He’s got delusions. He thinks he’s being watched all the time. He thinks we’re part of the big gang watching him. According to the radio, they think he holed up somewhere. They don’t know he got this far. He was lucky. What luck! A crazy man’s luck.” He turned and looked sharply at Johnny. “Three hundred and seventy-two thousand, five hundred dollars.”

Ginny felt an odd prickling on the backs of her hands. She rubbed them together. Don and Johnny were staring at each other. She could read nothing in Johnny’s face.

“Tax free,” Johnny said softly.

The two men looked at each other for a long time. Then, as though on some signal they both turned and looked at Ginny. She looked into Don’s eyes, and then Johnny’s, and she had the feeling she had never met either of them before. It seemed quiet in the room. With the blinds closed the smoke from the cigarettes hung in the air.

“Why are you acting so funny?” Ginny demanded, and her own voice sounded strange to her.

Neither of the men answered her. Johnny stepped over to the bed. Don was watching him carefully. Johnny took the paper with Ginny’s total on it, glanced at it casually, took it over to where the glasses had been smashed against the asphalt tile floor, near the edge of the throw rug. He picked up the gold frames and shook them lightly. Some more fragments of the glass dropped out. He sat on his heels, the pants tight on his blocky thighs. He kept his head tilted to the side to keep the cigarette smoke out of his eyes as he cautiously brushed the fragments of glass onto the paper. When the floor was clean he put the paper down with the frames on top of it and carefully folded it into a small bundle. He squatted there, staring up at Don.

After a long silence Johnny said, “A good eye doctor can take a little bitty hunk of lense and figure out the exact prescription. I read that once in a story.”

Don moved back and sat suddenly on the bed, on the far side of the suitcase from Ginny. He sat down as though his legs had gone weak. Ginny looked at him. He avoided looking at her. He put the separate stack of money back in the suitcase. Ginny looked at Brown. His pointed chin was against his chest. His white hands rested on his knees, fingers slightly curled. He looked as though he might be asleep.

“What are you thinking about?” Ginny asked, her voice a bit too loud. They did not answer her, and she knew she did not need an answer.

Don sat on the edge of the bed and counted on his fingers. “His name on the register. The car. Possible serial numbers of the new stuff.” He looked at Johnny, who had stood up and who was carefully placing the bundle of broken glass in his pants’ pocket.

Johnny turned as though looking out the door. But the blinds on the door were closed, inches from his eyes. Ginny could see the serrated metal grip of the revolver, see the shape of it through the stretched cloth of his hip pocket.

Johnny said softly, “Sure. One at a time. The register is on cards. They aren’t numbered in any serial sequence. No trick there.” He half turned and gave Don an odd smile and pantomimed tearing up a piece of paper.

“You can’t tear up a car,” Don said softly.

“A truck went through that abutment on the bridge near Grover three months ago. It’s still wide open. Deep there, and a pretty good current, and you don’t have to go through any kind of town to get there. I got work gloves in the station, just in case.”

Ginny put her fist so tightly against her mouth that her lips hurt. “No,” she said. “No, I won’t let that happen.”

Don reached suddenly across the closed suitcase and took her wrist in his hand, holding it tightly. His fingers were icy. “Use your head,” he said softly. “Insurance covers their loss. And that man is no loss. They get like that, and you can’t cure them. Just the three of us. And nobody ever says a word. Ever. One hundred and twenty-five thousand apiece, roughly.”

“Not apiece,” Johnny said, tucking his thumbs in his belt, planting himself flatfootedly. “Not if I do the dirty work for you, Ferris. I’ll take one eighty-five. That’s nearly half. How you handle the rest of it with her is your business.”

“A third apiece, Benton.”

“And for that, what do you do?”

Ginny felt as though her throat had closed completely. Don dropped his cigarette on the floor, stepped on it, turning his shoe. He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging limp from the wrists, head lowered. He looked slowly at Brown. Ginny saw the muscles of Don’s jaw bulge, saw an ovoid pulsation at his temple.

Don said in a half whisper, “You take care of the car. I’ll — do that.” And he made a partial gesture of his head toward Brown.

“Without marks,” Johnny said, just as softly.

“I’ll go with you,” Don said. “I’ll stun him and let the water do it.”

Ginny saw Johnny nod in agreement. Johnny went over to the bed, standing half between them. He rapped lightly on the edge of the black suitcase with his brown knuckles. “A cruiser,” he said softly. “And some of those little lovelies who carry hatboxes. And a sports car. All wrapped up in there.”

“Not all at once,” Don said sharply.

Johnny turned his head slowly and looked at him. “I’m not that stupid, Ferris.”

Ginny suddenly saw what she had to do. She jumped up as fast as she could and ran for the door, remembering that it was unlocked. Johnny’s hard arm locked around her middle after she had gone three steps. Her feet slipped on the tiles. He pulled her around roughly, clamped a heavy hand over her mouth. She could smell gasoline on his hand. It nauseated her. She wondered if she would faint. Johnny’s voice came from far away. “This is your problem, isn’t it?” he asked Don.

Don came over to them. He took Ginny’s wrists. He looked pleadingly into her eyes. “Please, darling. There’s no risk at all. There’ll never be another chance like this one. If we don’t do it, local cops will take him. And how much money do you think will be left by the time they turn it over? Say you’ll go along with us. You don’t have to do a thing, and you get a full third. Will you do it?”

She shook her head from side to side. Beyond him she could see Brown in that same position. His head had tilted a bit to one side. She knew he slept.

“It’s no good without her,” Johnny said. “It stinks.”

Don knuckled his chin. He shrugged. “Hold her, then. Let me think.”

“Put her in the same car?” Johnny asked quietly.