“Sure I’m sure. I can sleep on cracked ice, man.”
“Good, Alec. Very good indeed. How long do you expect to be in residence?”
“You mean here?”
“Yes.”
“My lawyer’s working on that angle.”
“So is mine. Whenever he sobers up and thinks of it. What were you nailed for?”
“There you go with questions again, Fitzy.”
“Fitz is enough, Alec. Long diminutives repel me.”
“You don’t say.”
“I do say.”
“I’ll try to remember.”
“Thanks. Now, what are you in for, Alec? After all, it’s a matter of public record.”
“So’s my name. And date and place of birth. But I don’t give these things out to every jock that comes up and asks.”
“Well, that’s something else again.”
“That’s privacy, man, personal privacy.”
“You can’t have much of that in here, Alec. The monotony gets almost bearable when you trade a few secrets with the guy you share the john with.”
“Listen, man, you give off some oddball vibes I can’t figure. And you sure don’t look like a dude who’d land in the can on any run-a-the-mill bust. You got an upper-brackets way about you and a name that spells it out. Cornelius Fitzhugh. Cornelius yet. So whyn’t we start all over again, Fitz, and try it from the other corner. What the hell they got a fat cat like you behind bars for? Answer me that and maybe we’ll go on from there.”
“Alimony, nonpayment of.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Yeah, I guess that figures. I didn’t know they still jugged guys for that.”
“They do if you’ve got a vicious ex-wife and a hard-drinking lawyer.”
“You can dump the lawyer, man.”
“I’m planning to. Meanwhile I’m going to sit out a couple of hands.”
“You owe a bundle?”
“If that’s the way you describe ten thousand.”
“And you can’t put it together?”
“I can put it together twenty times over, Alec. I just won’t. I’m stubborn that way. Let the leech wait upon my own convenience. I won’t pay a red cent until I’m good and ready, whenever that is.”
“Cool, very cool.”
“Now it’s your turn. What brought you to this sad little cell?”
“I snatched a purse.”
“You don’t look the type.”
“This purse was more like what they call it an attaché case.”
“That sounds better. What were the contents, Alec? Military plans for World War Three?”
“Negotiable securities, about a million’s worth.”
“Big time. What did you do? Snatch it from a bank messenger?”
“No. From a stockbroker. When you snatch something like this from a bank messenger you got to sort of take the buzzard’s arm along with it and his shoulder and backbone too. A bank messenger likes to handcuff a thing like this to his damn wrist and throw the key away. No. This was a Wall Street character, an old kind of stud with gray hair, a good-sized pot and thick glasses. A real pushover. He was walking from one building to another in the same block, carrying this case in his right hand, very nonchalant like. I ripped it off and was already about half across the street before he knew it was missing and then he began to yell something about robbery. I was heading toward a car parked around the corner with the motor running when I slipped on this banana peel.”
“Incredible.”
“I got the bruises to prove it. I ought to sue the Sanitation Department. Anyway, I slipped, one hell of a pratfall, man. And I hit my head against the side of a utility pole. This dazed me for maybe all of a minute. Long enough. When I got in focus again a cop built like young King Kong was helping me to my feet. I wasn’t holding the case. It must have been knocked out of my hand when I fell. The old stud was holding it again, in both hands this time, and going strong on the subject of grand larceny. My lawyer figures this is my loophole.”
“Figures what is your loophole, Alec?”
“The fact that nobody actually seen me with this case in my hand. Nobody, that is, but the old stud. And he don’t have twenty-twenty vision exactly. By the way, Fitz, I hope you’re forgetting all this just as fast as I been telling it. For your own good. Do you get it?”
“See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.”
“That’s the safe way.”
“Have a cigarette, Alec.”
“Don’t mind if I do. The pigs give me a receipt for mine and my lighter. They don’t trust nobody.”
“Out you come, gents. Time for supper.”
“What’s on the menu tonight, McGee?”
“Well, now, Fitz, I think I heard the chef say something about starting off with champagne and caviar. How zat sound?”
“What kind of caviar?”
“He didn’t say.”
“You’ve been gone more than an hour, Alec.”
“My mouthpiece is all mouth, Fitz. But he did slip me some cigarettes.”
“Did he slip you any good news to accompany the weed?”
“In a way.”
“You’re going to make bail.”
“Maybe in a couple a days. We’re waiting for a hardnose in the D.A.’s office to take a vacation. He’s due off in a couple a more days.”
“You know, Alec, I always understood a guy with your connections never languished in quad more than twelve hours. Twenty-four at most. In and out. Fast. Like an eel in a lobster trap.”
“What do you mean, my connections?”
“Well, I heard you’ve got good ones, with special influence in certain quarters.”
“You better spell it out a little, Fitzy.”
“Please, Alec. Not Fitzy.”
“Spell it out, Fitz.”
“It’s been coming in over the grapevine since you took up residence.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re described as an arm of organized crime, Alec — a strong arm.”
“Anything else?”
“A hit man, they say. A real pro. With the heaviest score east of Saint Louis. Of course a lot of things are grossly exaggerated in a place like this. Gossip twists the facts out of all true proportion. I take it all cum grano salis, Alec.”
“Take it and stuff it, man.”
“Up and at ’em, gents. Brook trout for breakfast.”
“Listen, McGee. When am I going to be able to rent a radio?”
“You’re next on the list, Fitz.”
“Alec.”
“Yeah?”
“I’d like to ask you something in sworn confidentiality.”
“Go to it, man.”
“Promise you won’t be annoyed.”
“I’m never annoyed I’m always cool, Fitz. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Cool is the word all right, Alec. Please remain so while I ask this simple question. In sworn confidentiality. Are you really what the grapevine says you are?”
“What if I am?”
“In that case we might do a little business together.”
“What kind of business?”
“Hit-and-run.”
“Hit who and run where? In this joint I don’t have much leeway, man. None, in fact. Ain’t you kinda noticed that?”
“I’m talking about when you get out, Alec.”
“I’m listening.”
“It concerns my—”
“Here comes McGee.”
“Afternoon, gents. How’d you like a stroll in the yard? Nice sunny day outside.”
“I accept, McGee, without equivocation.”
“I thought you would, Fitz. And I really wish I could fix it for you. Don’t look so disappointed. I do have some good news. That radio. You’ll get it tomorrow. One of your neighbors is moving up to the big house.”
“Hey, Alec. Are you asleep?”