Two for the Money (18 page)

He scooped his hands down under the running tap, brought them up full of water, and splashed his face, then dipped them back for a refill, which he dumped in his hair to wash the white powder out. He toweled his head partially dry and shook some hair oil into his palms, rubbed it into his scalp. When his hair was combed and parted, its normally ungreased, dead-dry look had reversed.

Jon came into the bathroom, dressed casually now in a green banlon sweater and white jeans, his arms dangling nervously at his sides. “Hey, you really look different, Nolan. I wouldn’t recognize you if I didn’t know.”

“That’s the point.”

“Say, uh, how much longer before phase two?”

“Soon. How’s everybody coming?”

“Shelly’s got her clothes changed. Slacks and sweater, now. She looks real different, too, with that blonde hair.”

“And Grossman?”

“Yeah, he’s back in tee-shirt and jeans.”

“Fine.”

“Something funny, though, Nolan.”

“About what?”

“Shelly and Grossman.”

“Go on.”

“They aren’t talking much.”

“They’re edgy, that’s all.”

“I don’t know, Nolan. Grossman’s been acting funny today.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But he’s been so quiet . . .”

“He’s just been concentrating on the job.”

“I don’t know.”

“Quit worrying, kid.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly home free yet, Nolan.”

“That’s why you shouldn’t worry.”

“I think I’ll take some aspirin.”

“Do that.”

Jon’s face contorted into something—a smile of sorts, Nolan guessed—and the boy turned and left. Nolan ran a wet washcloth over his face. He looked in the mirror again and frowned at the redness over his mouth and rubbed on some aftershave talc, hoping to camouflage the area. That still didn’t satisfy him, but he didn’t want to bother with it any longer.

He went into the bedroom and pulled a sportshirt out of his bag.

Everything was going fine, Nolan figured, just so Jon didn’t spook. The boy’d been nervous on the job, but had done his part and hadn’t let it show too bad. Actually, the robbery itself had gone so well it almost worried Nolan, but not much. Jon had gotten this far; it’d be a damn shame if he spooked at this point. Grossman’s acting withdrawn? That didn’t bother Nolan; that was the way a pro who’s really into the job is supposed to act. So no sweat. Nothing left now but to go in the other room and say the goodbyes and go separate routes.

Jon stuck his head in the door and said, “Hey, Nolan, forget what I said about Gross and Shelly.”

“I already did.”

“Well, then, forget it again. They’re out there sitting at the table together, holding hands and everything, like a couple of kids.”

“I told you.”

“Grossman still isn’t saying much, but he’s looking at her real intense. So the old love fire’s still burning.”

“See.”

The boy smiled, this time a normal one, and disappeared.

Nolan grabbed his gray suit coat out of the closet and climbed into it. He went back over to the bed and started packing odds and ends into the travel bag.

Funny how Grossman panned out, he thought, after all the doubts. The kid had driven well on the job, he was cool behind the wheel, handled the car like a pro. Made it from the bank to the bridge in fifty seconds, and no attention-calling squeals of tire or sharp turns or anything. When they’d approached the bridge, it was he who reminded Shelly to leave on her wig until past the toll booth, as Nolan had told them they should be sure to be seen going over to Illinois, and she removed it once the “Welcome to” sign greeted them on the other side. Grossman cut the usual twenty minutes between bridge and farmhouse to fourteen; there wasn’t danger of highway patrol stopping them for speeding, not on any of those country roads. Exactly fifteen minutes after he’d pulled away from Port City Savings and Trust, Grossman had returned the station wagon to its place inside the barn by the farmhouse.

Nolan lifted the travel bag with one hand and reached down with the other for his briefcase, which he’d taken time in the barn to fill with an additional ninety thousand in non-bait money. He walked out into the living room where Jon, Grossman, and Shelly were sitting around the poker table.

Shelly smiled and said, “You look different, Nolan.”

“Good.”

Jon got up from the table and came around to face Nolan. “What happens now?”

“It’s about time we part company,” he said, looking over at Grossman and Shelly. “Any last questions?”

“Yes,” Shelly said. “You had us leave the bags of money in the station wagon. Are you and Jon going to take the wagon? I mean, won’t there be descriptions of it on the radio?”

“Jon and I’ll be taking his Chevy,” Nolan said.

“Why not leave the Chevy and take the Country Squire?” Jon asked. “Nobody got a good look at the wagon.”

“That’s true,” Nolan said, “but we can’t chance leaving your car behind. Somebody’ll be finding this place sooner or later, and they’ll link it to the robbery. Then your Chevy would be eventually tracked to you, Jon, even if we took time now to destroy the plates and rip off the registration. We’ll toss the bags of cash in the trunk. If we get stopped, you’ll just say you lost your trunk key. Don’t worry about it, they won’t bother us, we won’t fit what they’ll be looking for.”

Shelly said, “Any way to tell how much we got?”

Nolan shrugged. “What’s your guess?”

“Seven hundred thousand. Give or take.”

“Sounds right.”

Jon said, “That’s a big haul.”

Nolan smiled. “Maybe a record, in Iowa.” He turned to Grossman. “All set on your route to Canada?”

Grossman nodded.

Jon said, “Soon as you’re settled, get in touch and we’ll set a time for me to get the cash to you.”

Grossman nodded again.

Shelly said, “Shouldn’t we take
some
of it with us?”

Nolan said, “I already talked that over with Grossman. You’ll be carrying around a thousand of it for expense money. That’s all you can get away with carrying without somebody getting suspicious if you get stopped. And you’ll be stopped once for sure, at the border.”

“I just hope nothing gets fouled up,” Shelly said, “and we’d never get our share.”

“Don’t worry,” Nolan said. “Okay, that’s about it . . . oh, Grossman, you’d better give me that .38 back.”

“Why?” Grossman said.

“Somebody finds it on you, you’ll get taken in for sure. It’s best we leave all the guns behind. Jon’s already given me his, it’s in a drawer back in the bedroom.”

“And leave them in the house for the cops to find?”

“It doesn’t matter, they’re untraceable. But I will rub them clean and throw them in the thicket back of the house before we go.”

“So where’s your gun?”

“It’s in my bag here.”

“We leave ours, you keep yours?”

“I’m in a little different situation than you are.”

“Sure,” Grossman said. “Well, let me give you mine, then.”

“Fine.”

Grossman moved around in the chair and reached down into his belt and came up with the .38. Nolan reached out to take the gun and Grossman batted Nolan’s arm away with his free hand.

Jon said, “Don’t screw around, man.”

Grossman pointed the .38 at Nolan’s chest.

Shelly smiled nervously and said, “Gross . . . ?”

Grossman said, “Couple things I want to talk over with you, old man.”

Nolan said, “Your game.”

“First let loose of that suitcase thing, just let it drop. And then hand me the briefcase.”

Nolan did.

“Let’s discuss a couple points,” Grossman said, his voice soft and a monotone. “You said once you never shot anybody outside of guys who crossed you. Is that right?”

Nolan nodded.

“I take that to mean,” Grossman said, “that you figure killing a guy that crossed you is justifiable.”

Jon said, “Gross, cut it out, will you, man?”

“Shut up, Jon,” Grossman said. “Nolan? How about it? Killing justifiable in such a case?”

Nolan said, “It can be.”

“And you assured Shelly a minute ago that our share was safe. That we’d get paid. ‘Don’t worry,’ you said. Right?”

“That’s right.”

“Well,” Grossman said, “I don’t see it that way. Not at all. I don’t see I can trust you.”

Nolan shifted his weight. “I don’t know why not, Grossman.”

“Don’t move around,” Grossman said. “Goes for you too, Jon.”

“Gross,” Shelly said, “what makes you think Nolan’s going to cheat us?”

“Quiet,” he said. “Nolan, would you trust a man who slept with his partner’s woman?”

Shelly’s face turned as white as it had in the bank. Only this time, Nolan noticed, no act. Jon was frozen, his mouth hanging open.

Nolan said, “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“There’s more,” Grossman said, his voice still a matter-of-fact monotone. “How does the complexion of the situation change when still another partner comes in and sleeps with that woman? And this second partner, he was the one who told the man not to see the woman, because it was bad for the job. The one man is supposed to stay away, while his partners take turns screwing.”

The monotone bothered Nolan, and so did the way Grossman’s eyes wouldn’t stay still, kept flicking from Nolan to Shelly to Jon and over again.

Jon thawed enough to say, “You been watching Shelly.”

Grossman said, “That’s right, friend. I was watching Saturday night when you went up to see her. And Sunday night when
you
went up to see her, old man.”

“They just came to talk about the robbery, Gross,” Shelly said, a desperate tone working its way into her voice.

“Sure, babe.”

Nolan said, “There’s no reason to complicate this, Grossman. We don’t have the time for personal problems. Whatever happened, it’s over. Take your half now, if you like. Just grab one of the bags, the one that’s more full if you want. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave me the briefcase, because I have a use for the bait money. But we can’t afford to fool around here any longer.”

Grossman turned and looked at Shelly. “I think I understand some things about you, babe, I never understood before. All those guys that have . . .” He stopped and laughed, “. . . taken advantage of you.”

Shelly looked over nervously at Jon and Nolan, then back to Grossman and said, “Are you going to kill them, Gross?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I killed for you, would it, babe? Tell me, how long after we’re in Canada is it going to be before you ditch me? Will you wait a while, till Jon gets our money to us? Or have you already made arrangements to meet Jon sooner? Or Nolan? Do you get my share of the take, too, babe, or just yours? So many things make sense now. I don’t know how I could have believed in you all this while. Unless it was just that I wanted to.”

“If you’re going to kill them,” she said, her voice a sob now, “do it! Will you? I’m scared, I’m scared, I want to leave this place . . . it was all going along so nice . . . oh Gross, baby, babe, do
something!
”

Grossman touched her arm. “You were always looking for something new, weren’t you, babe? A new start, a new way, a new kick. Always something new.”

“Grossman,” Nolan said.

“Old man,” Grossman said, “I’m going now. I’m not going to kill you. I don’t blame you for this, not really. Or Jon. You taught me some things, so thanks for that much. But I won’t be leaving you any money, can’t do that either. Now when I go, be smart and don’t go sticking your head out the door. I can hit targets from about anywhere, remember. Moving targets I’m real good at.”

“This is stupid, Grossman,” Nolan said.

Grossman got up and stood with a hand on Shelly’s shoulder. “Something new, right, babe? Try this one on, babe, it’ll blow your mind.”

He put the .38 barrel up against the blonde hair along her temple and squeezed the trigger.

Nolan dropped to the floor. As he hit he reached an arm out and knocked Jon’s legs from under him, to get the boy down below the line of fire. Jon’s body slapped the floor, but the immediate danger was over: the slamming door signaled Grossman’s exit.

Jon’s face was ashen. “Jesus, Nolan! Jesus Christ, what’s happening, Nolan!” The boy pushed himself to his knees and stared over at the poker table. Shelly’s lifeless figure was sprawled across its top, what remained of her face mercifully hidden by the long, now red-streaked blonde hair.

Nolan got up and pulled Jon to his feet, standing between the boy and the table.

“Oh Jesus, Nolan, what’ll we do now, oh Jesus . . .”

Nolan latched onto his shoulders. “Goddamn you, kid,” he said, “don’t go hysterical on me.”

“What’s happening here? Everything was perfect, everything was fine . . .”

Nolan dug his fingers into the boy’s shoulders and shook him. “Shut up and snap out of it.”

“Everything’s gone all to hell, Nolan, everything’s . . .”

“I said snap out of it,” he said, turning the boy around and facing him toward the bedroom. “We got a lot to do.”

“Nolan?”

“Since there’s no back door, we’ll be going out a window. Go in the bedroom and wait for me. I’ll be right in.”

Jon nodded his head and plodded off.

Nolan bent down and opened up his bag, got out the Smith and Wesson .38. He dug under the clothes and found a box of shells and stuffed it in his pocket. Since Jon might get upset at the sight of the gun, Nolan shoved it in his belt, covered it with his coat, and headed for the bedroom.

The boy was sitting in the straight-backed chair by the dresser, staring at his folded hands. Well, Nolan thought, shock treatment time.

“Better take your .38 back, kid,” Nolan said, pointing at the dresser. “May need it.”

Jon bent down and pulled open the bottom drawer and took out the .38. He held it loose in his hand and looked at it and shuddered. But that was all.

Nolan allowed himself a sigh of relief and said, “Come on, kid.” He unlocked the window and pushed it up. “Don’t jump out. Hold onto the sill and slide your feet to the ground. And no noise.”

Jon nodded and waited for Nolan to crawl out the window first, then followed him close behind.

The farmhouse lawn did not extend to the back yard, which was a dense thicket. The thick brush came right up to the window and hid Nolan and Jon as they crept through it on all fours. When they were safely behind the barn, leaning against it, Nolan put a finger to his lips, then mouthed, “Wait.”