Cop Out (16 page)

“Well, I got an idea while Wes was filling you in. You could put on the air a series of those now—what d'ye call 'em?—like trailers, teasers, of a, say, radio drama. You know, like you were working advance interest in a show you were going to run next week or month, give pieces of the plot. Like that. What we'd do is use the actual facts of this case, except we'd make out like the head man of the gang was doublecrossing the other two. The idea is to get Hinch to worrying … No, Harvey?”

Rudd was shaking his head. “In the first place, John, WRUD doesn't run dramatic shows, they went out a long time ago on radio, so it would sound phony straight off to anybody who does any listening at all. Second, if this Hinch is as stupid as you say he is you're not going to get anything through his skull with subtlety. Third, from what Mr. Malone says, there's no time to prepare anything elaborate. Whatever's done has to be started right away—today, if possible.”

“Then how would you handle it?”

“I'd do it on a straight news basis. It's something even a halfwit would understand and it would have the added advantage of sounding legitimate.”

“You can't do that, Mr. Rudd,” Malone said.

“Why not?”

“Because Furia would hear it, too. And he'd know that the only way such information could have gotten out was through me or my wife shooting our mouths off. That would spell curtains for my little girl. He warned us to keep quiet or else. He's dangerous, Mr. Rudd, maybe even psycho. He means it. At least I can't take the chance that he doesn't.”

“We can handle it so you and Mrs. Malone are put absolutely in the clear.”

“How?”

“You leave that to me.”

Malone's chin flattened. There was a pulse beating in the bruise. “I don't know. I'd have to think about it.”

“Will you let me work on it, Mr. Malone? I promise not a word will go out over the air without your okay. Have you got a typewriter here?”

“No.”

“Then just some paper,” Rudd said easily, “I can't type worth a damn, anyway.”

Malone went hunting for paper while he listened for a sign of life from upstairs and heard it, the creak-creak of the rocker in Barbara's room.

The kid was acting up again and Furia said give the little puke some more juice but Goldie said any more and she might get poisoned you want her alive don't you. She came up with a bottle of Sleep-Tite tablets she found in one of the upstairs bathrooms, so that problem was solved.

Furia ordered a top sirloin roast for his Saturday night dinner and Goldie had it thawing all day. The Thatchers had obliged by installing an electric spit in the old kitchen fireplace and Goldie built just the right fire, a slow one, to do the roast over. Furia spent a good twenty minutes watching it go round and round. I picked me a real cool broad, he said, fondly pinching her behind, I ought to set you up in the chow business, Goldie, I'll have that banana ripple ice cream for dessert they got in the freezer. Then he went back to the living room where Hinch was nursing an Old Crow on the rocks like a grudge, Furia had put him on short rations after the broken mirror, Hinch wasn't taking it as well as usual. Furia turned on the radio, which was set at WRUD, and stretched out on the sofa while Hinch brooded over at him.

There was the national news, then the news from the state capital, and Furia said to the radio come on, come on. Finally the announcer, who had a voice like a saxophone, said: “And now for the Taugus Valley news.

“First Selectman Russ Fairhouse urged residents of New Bradford today to support the Jaycee cleanup campaign, Operation Civic Pride. ‘Please join your neighbors,' Mr. Fairhouse pleaded, ‘in picking up gum wrappers and such and ridding our town of unsightly junk like abandoned old cars and washing machines and any other thrown-out items that may be laying around your property causing eyesores. Your administration is doing its part repairing the highway signs defaced mostly by teenagers the past summer, please do yours and impress on your children that in the end the cost of such vandalism is borne by you, the taxpayer.'

“A two-car accident on The Pike one mile north of Tonekeneke Falls today took the life of nineteen-year-old Alison Springer of Southville and sent three other teenagers to the New Bradford Hospital with critical injuries. State police say the cars were engaged in a drag race.

“There has been no progress in the statewide hunt for the two holdup men who shot Thomas F. Howland to death and stole the Aztec Paper Products Company's payroll Wednesday night, according to Colonel Doug Pearce of the state police. ‘It's my belief,' Colonel Pearce told WRUD today, ‘that they made it out of the state. An All Points went out to authorities in adjoining states yesterday.'”

“Aha,” Furia said with a grin. “They sure freaked out. Hear that, Hinch?”

“So what,” Hinch grumbled. “We ain't got the bread.”

“And now for today's Lighter-Side-of-the-News item,” the saxophone continued with a chuckle in it. “There's another mystery of sorts in New Bradford that for a while today had Police Chief John Secco and his department thinking they were in the middle of a crime wave.

“A twelve-year-old boy named Willie, who runs a paper route in the Lovers Hill section of New Bradford delivering the New Bradford
Times-Press
, came into police headquarters this morning to report a crime. Willie claimed that on Thursday afternoon, while he was delivering his papers on his bicycle at the upper end of Old Bradford Road, he witnessed—in Willie's own words—‘a short skinny guy with like a stocking over his head' sneaking into one of the houses. According to Willie, he promptly hid behind a rhododendron bush across the road and watched. ‘The man came scooting out after a while,' Willie said, ‘and he was carrying a little black bag that he didn't have when he went in—'”

“What the hell.” Hinch sat up.

“Shut up, let's hear this!” Furia hissed.

“‘—and he took off the stocking and beat it down the road.' Willie alleges that he followed the mysterious man and saw him turn into Lovers Hill with the black bag and head for the center of town still on foot.”

Hinch was looking at Furia with his mouth open. Furia was on his feet glaring at the radio.

“Willie, who wears thick glasses, could give no description of the man beyond his short height and skinniness. Chief Secco was doubtful about the story on the face of it, since no housebreaking was reported Thursday and Willie, it seems, had a reputation for an overactive imagination. Nevertheless, the chief sent Officer Harry Rawlson to Old Bradford Road with the boy, who pointed out the house he claimed the man had burgled. It turned out that Chief Secco's doubts were all too justified. It was the home of a member of the New Bradford force, Officer Wesley Malone. Officer Malone, who has been off duty for a few days, said that he and Mrs. Malone had had no visitors at all on Thursday, illegal or otherwise, and that in any event nothing was missing. Mrs. Malone confirmed this, stating that they had never owned a little black bag. ‘Willie either made a mistake about the house,' Officer Malone told his fellow-officer, ‘or he's been reading too many mystery stories.' A check of the other houses on Old Bradford Road produced no confirmation of Willie's story, and he was sent home after a fatherly lecture by Chief Secco.

“Thus endeth New Bradford's latest excitement.

“Funeral services will be held tomorrow at two
P.M
. at Christ Church, Stonytown, for—”

Furia jabbed the radio off. When he turned around he saw Goldie standing in the doorway from the kitchen.

“What was that all about?” Goldie said.

“Nothing!” Furia said.

“Thursday afternoon,” Hinch said slowly. “Small skinny guy. That fuzz and his old lady were telling the truth. I'll be goddam.”

“Don't look at me!” Furia yelled. “It wasn't me! I was in the shack, damn it. I didn't even have the car, so how would I get into town?”

“Neither did the skinny guy,” Hinch said. “He walked, this Willie said.”

“So it was some local,” Goldie said, “the way Malone said. There are lots of small skinny guys in this world. Looks to me, Fure, like this really ties it. Why don't we give it up as a bad job?”

“No,” Furia said. “
No
.”

“How do you expect Malone to get the money back when he doesn't even know who took it?”

“That's his problem!”

“You could ‘a' walked,” Hinch said, “it ain't that far. I hoofed it easy the night we pulled the heist.”

“Maybe it was you!”

“Small skinny,” Hinch said. “Do I look small and skinny? Anyways, Fure, I wouldn't do that.”

“And I would?”

Hinch did not reply. He was looking into his empty glass and frowning.

“Well, at least Malone and his wife didn't blow the whistle, you scared 'em good,” Goldie said brightly. She was scratching one hand with the other. After a while she said, “The roast won't be long now. No potatoes or I'd make you some French fries, Fure. What vedge do you want?”

Furia told her what she could do with her vedge.

“I still think it's taking useless chances to hang around here,” Goldie said. “Specially now that we know somebody did hijack the payroll. What do you say we write it off, Fure? We could be somewhere opening a bank and like grabbing us a real pile, not some snooty twenty-four grand.”

“What do you think, Hinch?” Furia asked suddenly.

Hinch looked up.

“You think we ought to cut out, like Goldie says?”

Hinch got to his feet. He seemed to go up and up indefinitely. Goldie took one look at the expression on his face and stepped back into the kitchen.

“I think,” Hinch said deliberately, “I'm going to make myself another drinkee.”

Fure was uptight all Saturday evening, brooding over at Hinch getting smashed in his corner.

Furia had his right hand stuck under his coat like Napoleon. But he wasn't dreaming of new worlds to conquer, he wanted the Colt in his shoulder holster handy just in case, at least that was Goldie's analysis. This whole thing is a bust why did I ever tie in with these cockamamies? Better watch your step, girl, this could wind up with fireworks.

There was almost a fight over the TV. Furia wanted the TV ON, Hinch wanted the radio on. The nine o'clock movie was a remake of
The Maltese Falcon
, I like that old fat guy, Furia said, he's real cool. Goldie said he's also been real dead for years it's somebody else in this version, why doesn't Hinch take the radio into the den then everybody's happy. Hinch said to hell with you bitch I like it right here. Furia said I want to see Humphrey Bogart and that's it and Goldie said he's dead too, Fure. Fure said according to you everybody's dead and Hinch said in a peculiar way so let that be a lesson to you. And he wasn't looking at Goldie when he said it. Goldie decided to go to the bathroom in case the argument heated up.

In the end Hinch took the radio into the den and Furia watched his movie. He kept complaining all through that it stank I liked the fat guy and Bogey better.

But Goldie noticed that he turned his chair so he could keep one eye on the den.

Come eleven o'clock there was Furia standing in the doorway of the den.

“What you listening to?” he asked Hinch.

“What do you think?” Hinch said. There were about three fingers left in the bottle of Smirnoff's.

“At the signal it will be exactly eleven o'clock,” the announcer said. “This is Station WRUD, the Voice of Taugus Valley. Now for the news.”

“What do you got to listen to the news for?” Furia said. “We heard it on the six o'clock.”

“You don't want to hear it don't,” Hinch said. “Me, I want to hear it.”

“They didn't find us, if that's what you're worried about,” Furia said. Hinch said nothing. “That's a joke, son.”

Hinch said nothing.

Furia stayed where he was, looking at Hinch. He kept his hand under his coat.

Goldie turned the TV off in the living room so she could listen, too. From the living room.

National news. Statewide news. Then the saxophone voice said, “One of the three teenagers injured in today's two-car accident at Tonekeneke Falls which took the life of nineteen-year-old Alison Springer of Southville died this evening at the New Bradford Hospital. He was Kelly Wilson, Junior, eighteen, of Haddison. The two surviving teenagers are still listed in critical condition.

“Review of the additional salary upgradings proposed for New Bradford town employees last week has been completed, First Selectman Russ Fairhouse announced today, and the revised salary schedule will be brought before a town meeting next Friday night at eight
P.M
. in the New Bradford High School cafeteria.

“A combined meeting of the Women's Auxiliaries of the fire departments of Taugus Valley will be held Monday evening at eight o'clock at the home of Mrs. Jeanine Lukenberry of Stonytown to complete plans for the joint pre-Christmas rummage sale for the benefit of Better Fire Prevention.”

“Aaaa, turn it off,” Furia said. “Who's interested in that crap?”

“I am,” Hinch said, not moving.

“—a footnote to the Lighter-Side-of-the-News item we broadcast on our six o'clock news,” the baritone sax was playing.

“See what I mean?” Hinch said. “You got to wait for the good stuff. What's the matter, Fure, you nervous?”

“Listen here, you—”

“Shut up,” Hinch said quietly, “I want to hear this.”

Furia's ear-points began to turn red. But he shut up.

“—seems that Willie is a persistent little cuss,” the voice chuckled. “When Chief John Secco sent him home this afternoon, Willie didn't go home. He went back to Old Bradford Road and, as he told WRUD's Lighter-Side-of-the-News reporter this evening, ‘I scouted around, they don't believe me about the man with the stocking over his face I'll prove it to 'em, I seen him throw that stocking away.' To everyone's surprise but Willie's he did just that. He went back to New Bradford police headquarters with a woman's nylon stocking which he claimed he found under the privet hedge in front of Officer Wesley Malone's house, where the alleged housebreaking took place. Chief Secco sent an officer over to the Malone place with the stocking, and Mrs. Malone identified it as one of hers which she had had drying on her clothesline and which had disappeared days ago. ‘It must have been Rags that did it, he's the Cunninghams' dog next door, he's always stealing things off my line,' Mrs. Malone told the Officer. Willie was sent home with a personal escort, Officer Mert Peck. Officer Peck advised Willie's father to take Willie on a tour of the woodshed, which Willie's father said he sure as heck was going to do. Please don't report any howling you may hear from that section of New Bradford. It's just Willie learning that free enterprise doesn't always pay.