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“
Didn't
he tell you about it?”

“
He
didn't do much talking. He didn't even tell me what kind of job. When
we heard he was dead, we decided it was all off. Then last night
Madge remembered that Ray had said that the job would likely be at
Tilly's place in Badmont. We'd never heard of Tilly or Badmont, but
we had nothing to lose by looking.”

“
What
do you do?”

I
tried not to hesitate, but I did. “I'm pretty handy with a
gat.”

The
wizened man uttered a derisive sound. “Trigger-men are a dime a
dozen. We don't need 'em. Jasp Vital's dead and we'll handle Larry
Goodby if he shows his face. The boss is taking care of the guy in
Brooklyn who's got the bag. A guy named Breen. If the guy don't hand
over the bag, George will snatch his . . . “

“
Shut
up, Milton,” Tilly said.

“
Huh?
Yeah.” Milton stuck his pipe back into his chinless face.

“
Are
you handy, with anything beside a gun?” Tilly asked me.

“
Sure.”
I wondered what I ought to be handy with and remembered the used car
lot behind the house. “I'm a cracker-jack car mechanic.”

Surprisingly,
that brought a satisfied nod from Tilly. And Milton said: “Yeah,
we're short-handed. Rufus can use a good one when he starts going
again.”

“
Well,
I'm a good one,” I said. “But I'm not working for a
mechanic's pay.”

“
No?”
Tilly stepped back from the counter and leaned her broad hips against
the gas range.

“
What
are you working for?”

“
You
tell me.”

She
didn't. She jabbed' a fat thumb at Molly. “Why were you trying
to spend the night here without telling me what you'd come for?”

“
We
weren't too sure that this was the place Ray Teacher meant,”
Molly muttered. Her profile looked suddenly tired. Harsh lines had
appeared at the corner of her mouth.

Tilly
returned her attention to me. “You say you come from out west.
Where? Who do you know there? What did you do?”

There
were too many questions, and any one of them was dynamite. I assumed
anger. “Why should I tell you anything? All I know is that
you’re selling cardboard pie in a moth-eaten lunchroom. Ray
said I’d work for George Moon. I’ll do my talking to
him.”

“
He
ain’t here,” Milton informed me. “He’s in
Brooklyn working on that guy Breen who has the bag.”

“
Shut
up, Milton.” Tilly waddled to the tap, poured herself a glass
of water, drained it at a gulp, wiped her mouth with the fiat of her
hand. Then she said almost amiably: “Tough guy, huh?”

I
saw myself in the fly-speckled mirror behind the counter. The bruise
on my cheek gave me a sinister aspect. I experimented with a leer,
and it looked passable and I turned it on Tilly. “I’m
tough enough to want to tie up with George Moon, but not unless
there’s enough in it for me.”

“
There’ll
be enough. I don’t know when George will be back.”

“
We’re
willing to hang around if you have a place for us to sleep,” I
said.

She
reached under the counter and brought up a hotel register. “We’re
licensed as a hotel. Everything has to be legal. If you have a
record, use a phony name.”

“
This
name will do.” I took the pen from her.

Molly
leaned against my shoulder and watched me write in the register: “Mr.
and Mrs. Thomas Rover, New York.”

When
I put down the pen, she slid off the stool. Listlessly, she pulled
down her sweater and tucked her handbag under her arm. Somehow she
seemed not as tall and straight as a few minutes ago.

“
Milton,
show them up to the double room,” Tilly said.

He
faded into the hall. I picked up Molly’s bag. The: hall ran the
remaining length of the house to a side entrance at the far end.
Halfway up the hall there was a staircase. We started to climb it.

“
Tom,”
Tilly called.

I
ascended two more steps before I remembered. I turned and saw Tilly
at the foot of the stairs. “I’m letting you stay till
George, comes because I think we can use you,” she said. “But
you keep your nose clean till George says you’re okay. Don’t
snoop. Get it?”

“
Sure.”
I went on.

Molly
was following Milton into one of the rooms strung out on either side
of the hall. It wasn’t a bad room. You could turn around in it
without hitting anything and the paper with the red roses on the
walls wasn’t more than a dozen years old. There were; two
windows and a double bed which looked softer than the floor and a
dresser with tarnished gilt drawer-handles and two chairs, one with a
cracked leather seat.

Milton
said: “Bring you towels later. The bathroom is down at the end
of the hall.” He emitted an old man’s dry snicker “Hope
you can stand the food Tilly dishes out.”

“
Does
she make real meals?” I asked.

“
For
the boys. If you can call ’em meals.” He pulled on his
corncob and contemplated Molly’s legs. She was standing at one
of the windows with her back to us.

I
said: “What’s that bag you were telling us about
downstairs?”

“
Well,
Ray was carrying it when he got clipped by the car. This guy Breen’s
wife took Ray to the hospital and held onto the bag.”

“
Was
there anything valuable in it?”

Milton
rolled the pipestem inside his mouth. He started to take the stem out
to speak.

“
Mil-ton!”
Tilly called from downstairs.

“
That
dame runs me to a rag,” he explained cheerfully and left.

I
watched the door close behind him and silently cursed Tilly. But the
chance wasn’t lost beyond recall. He liked to talk. I’d
get him aside as soon as I could.

“
Tom
Rover!” Molly said. She had turned from the window and was
wearily stripping off her jacket. “The Rover Boys at Tilly’s,
or Murder for Kiddies.”

“
It’s
a name.”

“
And
so is Madge a name. Madge Rover. God!” She tossed the jacket on
the bed and curled her lips. “And a double bed. Remember you’re
a Rover boy, so don’t go getting ideas about that bed.”

I
could hand it back when I had to. “I didn’t ask you to
come along. There wasn’t any way I could explain you to Tilly
except as my wife. Don’t flatter yourself that there was any
other reason. I’ll sleep on a chair or on the floor or standing
up.”

“
You
re damn right you will!”

She
was too much for me. In the few hours I had known her she had been
aggressive and remote, gay and sullen, garrulous and wordless. Now
still another mood was on her, and I wasn’t yet sure what it
was.

“
Hell,”
I said. There wasn’t anything else a man could say when a woman
acted up like that.

Her
voice turned quieter, crisper. “Do you mind if I change my
clothes?”

I
went out into the hall. I started to slam the door and caught it on
the swing and shut it softly. I went down the stairs and turned
toward the lunchroom and stopped with my heart doing a complete flip.

The
man with the crooked nose was sitting at the counter.

His
compact body lounged indolently on the stool as he ate a slab of that
impossible pie with gusto, and stirred his coffee. Tilly leaned
against the gas range. Her eyes, as pale as Crooked Nose’s own,
were almost hidden in fleshy, narrowed sockets.

“
What’s
the matter with that Plymouth you have outside?” she was
saying.

I
eased back out of Crooked Nose’s sight if he should turn
suddenly.

“
Don’t
you want to sell cars?” I heard him say.

“
That’s
what I’m in business to do. But I asked you, why do you want to
buy another car?”

“
I’m
not sure that I want to. All I ask is if you have a good buy. I’m
tired of that heap out there. I figure I could trade it in for a
newer one.”

“
We
don’t take trade-ins.”

“
You
don’t? This is the first time' I’ve heard of a place
selling cars which didn’t.”

Behind
me Milton said: “Something bothering you?”

I
hadn’t heard him come in through the side door or down the
stairs. He pressed the hot corncob against his negligible chin and
kept rheumy eyes on my face, waiting patiently for me to find an
answer.

“
I
was going out to get something from my car,” I said. “Any
objection?”

“
You
don’t get nothing out of your car standing in the hall.”

I
stepped past him, toward the side door. In the lunchroom I heard
Crooked Nose say: “Can’t you even make up a cheese
sandwich for me?” Then I was outside. I turned right toward the
used car lot.

There
were at least a hundred cars lined up in half a dozen rows. The first
few cars were ancient stuff, then they started to get better. There
were a number in good-price condition made a year or two before the
war, and there were quite a few only a few months off the production
lines. Then the good cars petered out and there were scattered wrecks
in various stages of being dismantled for parts.

The
huge barn was a good three hundred feet beyond the end of the cars.
It had been red once, but years of weathering had turned it scaly
pink. I walked toward it. The door was on the right side. When I got
closer, I heard voices.

A
man said: “That’s all we do when we finish this one, sit
on our tails and wait; How the hell do I know how long? Of all the
lousy rotten luck!”

I
had -reached the broad rolling doors and was looking inside. It was a
complete repair shop, from two power-driven hoists and arc welders to
neat racks on the wall with any kind of wrench you could name and
stacks of parts. There was room for a half dozen ' cars without
crowding. Two were in there now and a slim kid in goggles was doing a
paint spray job on one.

A
second man sat on a keg, watching the kid spray. His long, unshaven
chin moved rhythmically. A vague yellow fuzz kept his head from
complete baldness. He spat tobacco into an inverted hub cap and said:
“Let’s hope it ain’t too long, Beezie.” Then
he saw me.

He
leaped off the keg as if shot out of it. The kid cut the spray gun
and pushed his goggles up to his forehead.

“
What
the hell do you want?” Baldy demanded.

“
I’m
just looking around,” I said, trying to sound calm about it.

“
Yeah?
Look somewhere else. Don’t you see we’re busy?”

“
Are
you?”

“
A
wise guy.” Baldy glanced at the kid and shifted his tobacco to
the other cheek. “Beat it.”

The
car which was being sprayed was a super deluxe Planet sedan, a little
more expensive than my own, but the same model and year. The new coat
was blue-gray. From where I stood I couldn’t see anything of
the original coat. I went in closer to get a look at the rear fender.
'

“
Damn
you!” Baldy roared. He snatched a Stilson wrench from a bench.

I
didn’t want to spoil it by making a fight of it. “Take it
easy,” I said quickly. “I’m bunking at Tilly’s.
I think I’m going to work with you guys.”

“
Yeah?”
Baldy’s long jaw jutted. “I ain't heard about it. Scram.”

I
scrammed. When I turned the corner of the barn, I saw Milton hurrying
toward me. His oversized overalls flapped around his skinny body.

“
They
just kicked me out of the barn,” I told him. He would hear it
anyway, and it was best if he got it from me.

“
Rufus
sure would,” he said joyously. “You’re lucky you
ain’t got a slug in you.”

We
were walking back to the house. “Is Rufus the bald guy?”
I asked.

“
Rufus
Lamb. Tough as you think you are. The young fella is Beezie. Handy
with tools. You keep away from there till George says you’re
okay.”

“
I
was only looking around.”

He
cocked his head sideways and squinted. “You was only listening
in the hall a while ago. You was going to get something from your
car, but you didn’t go near your car.”

“
I’ll
be blind if that’s what you want,” I said meekly. “In
my room you started to tell me about a bag you said Ray Teacher had
when he was killed.”

He
snickered. “Pumping me. Tilly says I talk too much. I told her
not when I don’t have to. Catch on?”

“
I
catch on,” I said dismally.

I
entered the house through the side door and went all the way up the
hall and looked into the lunchroom. Crooked Nose was gone.

The
place was empty.

CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Molly
crane sat at one of the two bedroom windows. Her bag stood against
the dresser where I had left it; she still wore the brown-and-white
checked skirt and the copper-colored jersey sweater. A glass ashtray
on the windowsill contained half a dozen cigarette butts. She must
have been sitting at that window since I had left, and had watched me
go across the car lot to the barn and return with Milton. A fresh
cigarette dropped from the corner of her mouth.