Infamous

9

Harvey Bailey eyed the golf ball, lined up the drive from the hogpen, and aimed for Boss Shannon’s old barn to the north. He still had a bad limp, the bullet out of him and wound stitched up crooked, but they’d lugged the set of clubs all the way from Kansas City and it would’ve been a shame not to play. This being the first time he’d a chance to use them, with all the shooting and bank robbing getting in the way of some solid sport. He took a breath and loosened his shoulders and smacked the ball right in the sweet spot, feeling it down to his toes as the ball went skyward and dropped damn near the mouth of the barn, sending some worried guineas up in a flurry of feathers. “Beat that, chump.”

Miller plopped down a ball. He was shirtless, wearing the tailored pants he’d had on for days and the handmade wingtips. His upper body was corded with muscle like a fighter’s, with skin as white as blanched paper, turning pink in the morning sunshine. He took a few practice swings and sent the ball up and away, and it disappeared somewhere over the weathered barn.

“I say the barn door is the hole,” Harvey said.

“Fine by me.”

“You want to get a posthole digger?” he said. “I could get a stick and a rag.”

“Sure.”

“The Shannons seem a bit jumpy, don’t they?” Harvey said, hoisting the bag up onto his shoulder and limping toward the barn. A bony coonhound loped after them like a spectator to the sport.

“Boss especially.”

“You think he wants us to leave?”

“Could be,” Verne said. “How’s the leg?”

“Walking helps,” Harvey said. “Wound’s healing clean, no thanks to that damn butcher who sewed it.”

He dropped the bag and chose a number two iron, spying a cat sitting atop a mule plow. The big tom paid the men no mind as it hiked its leg skyward and started to lick its balls.

“I knew a man in Lansing who could do that,” Harvey said. “Or claimed he could.”

“A man can learn lots of things in prison,” Miller said. “I’d rather hang than go back.”

“How’s Vi?”

“Scared.”

“She want you to come up there?”

“Sure,” he said. “ Brooklyn isn’t her kind of place.”

“You trust those people?”

“I did a job for them and, oh, well, they owe me.”

“And she understands?”

“Vi understands. Always has.”

“You love that woman, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

“You gonna marry her?”

“When all this ends,” he said. “Get ahead a little.”

“When does this stuff ever end?” Harvey asked. “I got out before this country went in the toilet. That’s what happens. You try and go legit, get into some corny business like filling stations, and then the world shits on you. Take what you can get when you can get it.”

“One more score,” Verne said. “Something big for us both.”

“Verne?” Harvey said, setting the ball right for the big tom. “I don’t know how many different ways to say it. Next time I walk into a bank, it’ll be with a checkbook, not a gun.”

Verne met his gaze with those cold blue eyes and smiled.

Harvey tapped the ball with a flick and it sailed within a hair of the big cat, the animal toppling over on his back and scampering away.

“Don’t look back,” Harvey said. “Don’t get greedy. Know your price. When it’s met, walk away.”

Verne walked around the back of the barn, searching for his ball in some high grass and swatting away some goats set loose to clear it. He switched at the grass with his iron and looked for a good ten minutes before Harvey called time on the hunt.

Behind him, maybe a half mile away, Harvey’s eye caught old man Shannon’s Model T kicking up dust, heading out to the house where his boy lived. This was the fourth trip he’d made that morning. Twice with George and now twice alone.

“What’s going on at Armon’s place?”

“That kid needs a swift kick in the ass,” Miller said. “Son of a bitch. You saw that ball land here, didn’t you?”

“Did you see George’s face when we asked if he’d like to take on some work last week?”

“What of it?”

“When’s the last time ole George Kelly didn’t want to pick up some bucks behind the wheel? He wet himself coming around the Green Lantern, wanting to work a job, and far as I could tell he and Kit aren’t rolling in it. You think he got something else going?”

“Maybe.”

“With who?”

“Kit’s got into something.”

“You trust that rancid bitch?”

Miller glanced at him and smiled. He stared out at the farm road and the Model T, growing close and then passing the men in a big old cloud of dust. He reached down and found the ball, tossing it out on some clear land, just a stroke away from a pile of goat shit.

“How ’bout we play up the road a bit?” Miller said. “Might find something that interests us.”

ALL THAT MONEY MADE THE BANKER NERVOUS, BUT MRS. Urschel had signed the forms, and there was nothing that the little bald fella could do about it. He watched at the far end of the Slick Company board-room, leaning into the desk with white knuckles that made Gus Jones smile, while his comptroller and staff worked overtime to log every serial number onto individual pieces of paper. The money was circulated-as requested in the letter that came to box number 807 that morning-all from the Federal Reserve in Kansas City. If Mr. Urschel came back safe, they’d pass these numbers to every lawman, post office, and bank in the country. The gang left little to chance with a letter that spelled out every dance step.

In view of the fact that you have the Ad inserted as per our instructions, we gather that you are prepared to meet our ultimatum.

You will pack TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS (($200,000) in USED GENUINE FEDERAL RESERVE NOTES OF TWENTY DOLLAR DENOMINATION in a suitable LIGHT COLORED LEATHER BAG and have someone purchase transportation for you, including berth, aboard train #28 (The Sooner) which departs at 10:10 p.m. via the M.K. &T Lines for Kansas City, Mo.

You will ride on the OBSERVATION PLATFORM where you may be observed by someone at some Station along the Line between Okla. City and K.C., Mo. If indications are alright, somewhere along the Right-of-Way you will observe a Fire on the Right Side of Track (Facing direction train is bound). That fi rst Fire will be your Cue to be prepared to throw BAG to Track immediately after passing SECOND FIRE.

Mr. Urschel will, upon instructions, attend to the fi res and secure the bag when you throw it off, he will open it and transfer the contents to a sack that he will be provided with, so, if you comply with our demand and do not attempt any subterfuge, as according to the News reports you have pledged, Mr. Urschel should be home in a very short while.

REMEMBER THIS-IF ANY TRICKERY IS ATTEMPTED YOU WILL FIND THE REMAINS OF URSCHEL AND INSTEAD OF JOY THERE WILL BE DOUBLE GRIEF-FOR SOME-ONE VERY NEAR AND DEAR TO THE URSCHEL FAMILY IS UNDER CONSTANT SURVEILLANCE AND WILL LIKE-WISE SUFFER FOR YOUR ERROR.

If there is the slightest HITCH in these PLANS for any reason what-so-ever, not your fault, you will proceed on into Kansas City, Mo. And register at the Muehlebach Hotel under the name of E. E. Kincaid of Little Rock, Arkansas, and await further instructions there, however, there should not be, IF YOU COMPLY WITH THESE SIMPLE INSTRUCTIONS.

THE MAIN THING IS DO NOT DIVULGE THE CONTENTS OF THIS LETTER TO ANY LAW AUTHORITIES FOR WE HAVE NO INTENTION OF FUTHER COMMUNICATION.

YOU ARE TO MAKE THIS TRIP SATURDAY, JULY 29th 1933. BE SURE YOU RIDE THE PLATFORM OF THE REAR CAR AND HAVE THE BAG WITH MONEY IN IT FROM THE TIME YOU LEAVE OKLAHOMA CITY.

Jones watched as bundles of counted money were loaded in a light-colored Gladstone bag. The kidnappers being so goddamn specific about the type, everyone worried that the slightest error might lead poor old Charlie into the grave.

“Little dramatic,” Doc White said, reading over Jones’s shoulder. “All that talk about ‘double grief.’ ”

“Well, it ain’t a love letter.”

“You think Kirkpatrick is up to it?”

“I think he’s not only up to it,” Jones said, finding the gold watch at his vest. “He’s damn well excited about it.”

“Give him a gun?”

“You think that’s a good idea? I’ll be on that train, too.”

“But the letter said-”

“Nuts to those bandits,” Jones said. “They don’t know me. I’ll carry the ransom, and Kirkpatrick a dummy bag, in case there’s trouble…”

“That banker sure is sweating.”

“You keep an eye on Mrs. Urschel and the family,” Jones said. “I’ll call when we reach Kansas City.”

“Union Station.”

“That’s where the tracks lead.”

“Why don’t you let me take the lead, Buster?” White asked. “Wait it out here. We can’t do a thing till Urschel comes back.”

“Since when did you become my wife?”

“Since when did you become a touchy old bastard?”

“Hell with you.”

“I see.”

“Watch the family.”

“Watch your ass, Buster,” White said. “That station ain’t held the best luck. And I ain’t calling on Mary Ann for you stepping in a shit pile twice.”

“THEY DON’T MEAN NOTHIN’ BY IT, KIT,” ALBERT BATES SAID. “They’re just catching up on old times. George likes to reminisce.”

“Well, I hate it.”

“I know.”

“I was so damn glad when he got out from under those mugs and we got the hell out of Saint Paul,” Kathryn said. “I didn’t see the sun for four months up there. The ground was nothing but black slush and not a spot of green. All they did was sit around the Green Lantern and drink themselves stupid. George would lie around in pajamas, listening to Buck Rogers, for months, and then he’d be wheel on a job and come back with a cheap handout. Harv and Verne throwing him the dog scraps, and George never asking for anything better.”

“But you liked Tacoma?”

“I liked George in Tacoma,” she said. “He doesn’t act like this in front of you or Eddie. He acted normal. He’s always putting on for Verne and that bastard Harvey Bailey. I can’t stand that big-nosed son of a bitch. Everyone says he’s such a gentleman, the ‘Gentleman Bandit,’ the class yeggman, but he’s nothing but a two-bit Mis-sou-ra hick in a hundred-dollar suit with whitewall hair.”

“Slow down, Kit,” Bates said. “They can hear you.”

“Do I look like I care?”

She turned back to the farmhouse window and saw the men inside, the kitchen all bright with a yellow glow, the dumb yeggs laughing and knee-slapping around the makeshift table and plunking down cards, cigars screwed down in their teeth. Old Boss Shannon took up the fourth seat like he was just one of the boys and not some old farmer who ran a rooming house for criminals. Boss had been taking their dirty money since he and Ora met, yeggs from all over the damn country coming to Paradise. All shot up and bloody, suitcases full of cash and with itchy fingers, and offering a teenage girl a few bits for a quick throw, saying it might be their last…

“It’s okay,” Albert Bates said, his hawk-nosed profile crossed in the kerosene light. He fumbled for a fresh cigarette and smiled over at her. “George won’t mention it.”

“He better not,” she said. “He lets these boys in on Urschel and I’ll cut his nuts off.”

“They’re not wise to us,” Bates said, cupping a hand and flicking the lighter’s flint. “We’ll all be gone tomorrow. Your stepdaddy will watch Urschel till we come back and turn him loose.”

“That’s another screw I worry about.”

“Mr. Urschel?”

“Boss.”

“He’s gettin’ a cut,” Bates said. “No one wants to whittle this thing down any more.”

“You really gonna quit?”

“You bet,” he said. “A fella can get set up with this kind of dough.”

“ Denver, huh?”

“Yep.”

“Albert?”

He turned to her, burning down the cigarette and fishing for a new one in his pocket. She pulled a cigarette from her purse, lit it, and passed it on to him. She found a place on the edge of the farmhouse porch to let her legs hang off free and loose, and Bates joined her after a while. The laughter and loud talk had become too much.

“How will I know if there’s trouble?” she asked.

“You studied the picture of Kirkpatrick?”

She nodded.

“You see anyone with him, anyone too friendly, you step off the train at any station and call us,” he said. “He’s supposed to come alone, and that’s the only way we’ll go ahead with the drop. You unnerstand?”

“You just look out for George.”

“Your man will come back in one piece,” Bates said, cigarette hanging loose. “I promise.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about.”

“You sure are hard-boiled sometimes, Kit,” Bates said. “We’re on Easy Street now.”

“That’s the kind of talk that will get us all killed. Or worse.”

“You love him, though?”

“Who?”

“George.”

“I married the dumb bastard, didn’t I?”

“But do you love him?” Bates asked. “When I think about seeing my sweetie, it makes me feel all funny in the gut.”

“Yep,” she said. “George makes me feel all funny.”

Bates laughed and smoked some more, watching the same herd of cows, following down a line of crooked posts connected with miles of barbed wire.

“The funny thing about you and George is that sometimes he’s talking but I hear you coming out of his mouth.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t mean nothing by it,” Bates said. “Just something I’ve noticed for some time. I’ve known George Barnes since he was running moonshine out of Memphis. And now I see this fella who folks ’round here call ‘Machine Gun’ Kelly, with his slick hair and two-tone shoes. But I’m not really sure if that’s you or George… It’s all screwy.”

“You’re the screwy one, Albert,” she said. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek in a sisterly way. “You look out for both of you. And don’t worry, I’m pretty good at spotting a cop.”

“I know, sister.”

“No more hard times.”

“Welcome to Easy Street.”

“Keep the light on…”