Besides, this was different. The dough at the bureau was not my money. This was.
“Tell me how you did it,” she said. “Oh, I knew I was doing the right thing when I told you about it. You saved everything, Ted. Tell me how you did it. Tell me everything.”
I told her everything, omitting only the occasional temptations to forget the whole thing that had crossed my mind in weak moments. Her eyes shone all the way through and there was a special gleam in them when I told how I’d made a mess out of the monkey’s face. The recounting of the fight, one-sided as it was, seemed to give her a special charge.
When I had brought the yarn up to date I relaxed and took her in my arms. But she didn’t relax. I could sense the wheels going around inside that pretty head. And I wondered if her mind ever slept.
“Bunkie Craig,” she said.
I looked at her, questioningly.
“The one you pushed around. That’s who it must have been. The others wouldn’t carry a gun, but he’d be naked without one. And the description fits. It must have been him.”
Naturally the name meant nothing, but it was comforting to know that the gorilla wasn’t some innocent bystander. I nodded.
“You should have killed him.”
My eyebrows went up. “What’s the matter? Did you hate him that much?”
“I hated him, but that’s neither here nor there. You should have killed him.”
“Why?”
“He saw you,” she explained patiently. “Before they didn’t know who you were, didn’t realize there was anybody helping me. Now they know. If you had killed him he wouldn’t be able to finger you.”
“Dead men tell no tales?”
“Something like that.”
I shrugged it off. “He won’t tell any tales for a while, Cindy. He’ll be in the hospital first.”
“But not forever. Maybe it won’t make a difference, but I wish you’d finished him permanently. I hate to take chances.”
I tried to shrug it off again but I didn’t quite make it. I was getting a new picture of her now, a picture with a lot less of the softness and gentleness; a picture of a woman who could be as cold and calculating as an adding machine. I suppose it should have scared me. Somehow it didn’t.
“We’ll get a good night’s sleep now,” I said optimistically. It was after four and there didn’t seem to be too much chance of our getting a night’s sleep. A morning’s sleep, perhaps. But there wasn’t much left of the night.
“Then we catch a plane in the morning to Phoenix. I’ll buy a car there and we’ll head for a small town, pick up a copy of Editor & Publisher and look at the newspaper listings. From there on it’s a cinch.”
“My clothes are in my room.”
“You’ll buy new ones in Phoenix.”
“I can’t go on the plane like this.”
“Neither can I,” I said. “I need a jacket and a tie at the very least. And you need something a little more formal than dungarees and a shirt of mine. But for fifty grand I can stand a few hours of mild embarrassment. So can you.”
She lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Of course I can. I wasn’t thinking.”
“We’ll take a hack to Idlewild,” I went on. “We’ll check first on the phone, catch the time so that we don’t have to sit around the waiting room. We might be spotted. It’s not worth the chance.”
“Right.”
“Once we’re in Phoenix we’ll be clear. As long as we’re in New York we’ve got to be on guard. I’ll be glad to get out of here.”
She nodded, agreeing.
There wasn’t anything more to say. I reached for her and hauled her down on the bed, pulling her close to me. Her body was warm and her eyes very beautiful. She looked very tired but I didn’t let that stop me.
I was tired myself. The fun and games with Bunkie Craig had hardly been designed to relax a person. On top of that I’d had more in the way of horizontal harmony in the past twenty-four hours than most men have in a month.
Still, I needed her. I was tense and my nerves were strung tight and fine as piano wire. I had to relax and I needed the relaxation she could bring me.
I unbuttoned her shirt. I played with her breasts until her nipples saluted me.
I took off her pants.
I found other things to do with her.
“Ted—”
“I was a good boy, Cindy. I beat up the bad guy and got the money and brought it straight to you. Wasn’t I a good boy?”
“You were a very good boy.”
“And a good boy deserves a reward, doesn’t he?”
“Of course.”
“Do I get my reward, Cindy?”
I got my reward.
Her hips heaved me to heaven and her mouth drained my mouth and her breasts were softer than snow. She made everything worthwhile — the risks, the flight, the whole thing. I had earned my half of the fifty grand when I got the satchel from her apartment. Now she was earning her half flat on her back in a big double bed in room 53 of the Sheraton-McAlpin, earning it very well.
It began, it endured, it ended.
I slept.
She woke up before I did. I felt her lips on mine and I opened my eyes. I reached for her and she jumped away, a pixyish smile on her face.
She looked good in the morning.
“Rise and shine,” she said. “We’ve got a plane to catch.” I tried to put my eyes into focus. It didn’t work. I sat up in bed and stared at the wall.
“What time is it? I better get dressed and call the airport.”
“I called them already.”
“From here?”
She nodded and I swore under my breath. “You should have called from a payphone,” I said. “They can trace it this way. If the switchboard operator is in on it—”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You know what the odds against that are?”
I knew. I still didn’t like it.
“When does the plane leave?”
“Three-thirty.”
I calculated rapidly. “Call Room Service,” I said. “Have them send up some ham and eggs and a pot of coffee. Then we’ll sit around here until a quarter past two. That way we’ll get to Idlewild just in time.”
“I already did,” she said. “I hope you like your eggs scrambled.”
The food came and we ate it, then sat around until it was time to go. I settled with the hotel, grabbed a cab for the airport. It was silly, but I was tense as a wire on the way. The weather was good and the ride was pleasant but I couldn’t relax.
“Did you reserve tickets for us?”
She nodded.
“What name?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Stone. Same name as we used at the hotel.”
I got mad at her. “That was pretty stupid. If they trace us to the hotel they’ll be able to trace us to Phoenix. That wasn’t too bright, Cindy.”
“I had to. The call went through the switchboard. I couldn’t use another name.”
“That’s why you should have called from a payphone, dammit. Jesus, of all the brilliant moves—”
She looked sick to her stomach and I forced myself to relax. “I’m sorry,” I said. “It probably won’t make any difference. They’ll never even trace us to the hotel.”
I tried to sound sure of myself. If I did I was a good actor.
Because I was scared.
I picked up the tickets at the TWA desk and paid for them with some of McGuire’s twenties, hoping the serial numbers hadn’t been recorded anywhere. It didn’t seem likely but it gave me something else to worry about. Not that I needed it. There was plenty to worry about as it was.
We waited by the flight gate for the plane to open up for us and I felt about as conspicuous as a whore in church. We weren’t exactly dressed for the flight. She was attired cleverly in dungarees and one of my shirts and I didn’t look a hell of a lot better. I had on a pair of khakis and a dirty white shirt without a tie. I needed a shave pretty badly — a few more days without one and we could head for Frisco, get a loft on North Beach and pose as beatniks.