“No.”
“About that talk we started to have this afternoon.”
“What about it?”
“Do you mind if we continue?”
“If that’s what turns you on, man, you can just be my guest.”
“What turns me on — and off too — is my ex-wife. She’s a true-blue biddy, Alec. Always was, always will be. Right now she’s trying to milk me for a grand a week while she’s making out with another man, practically living with him.”
“I heard of such things, Fitz. Tough shake.”
“I want to do something about it.”
“Don’t blame you.”
“I want her wasted. I believe that’s the word.”
“That’s one of them. Why?”
“Why? Because alive she’s going to cost me a grand a week. That’s fifty-two grand a year. It could go on for years and years, Alec. Isn’t that reason enough?”
“I guess so. Well, good luck.”
“Obviously I can’t do the job myself. I’d be number-one suspect before she got cold. The cops would have me under the hot lights in no time.”
“Good thinking, Fitz.”
“However, if Eva were wasted while I was still under lock-and-key, the coast would be clear. Is that still good thinking, Alec?”
“It’s good.”
“So how about it?”
“Is this a contract offer, man?”
“That’s right.”
“It takes a stack of bread, man. You got any idea how much?”
“Not really.”
“Maybe even more than a guy with a name like yours can stack. Cornelius Alimony Fitzhugh. Take a guess.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
“How’s thirty K strike you?”
“Thirty K?”
“Or like you say, grand.”
“Thirty grand. It sounds reasonable. Is it a deal?”
“It might be. If you got that kind of greenery stashed here in the mattress.”
“I’m really serious about this, Alec.”
“I’ll get serious too, man. As soon as I see the bread.”
“You know I haven’t got it on me.”
“I know.”
“It’s all in safe-deposit boxes where Eva and her lawyer can’t get their greedy mitts on it. Before I cut off the alimony payments I gradually liquefied my assets and then buried them deep where only I can dig them up. But dig them up I will as soon as Eva’s off my back. Yes, Alec, I’ll take you to my nearest cache and joyfully pay into your hand a secret thirty grand or, if you prefer, thirty K. You have my word on it as a gentleman and a cellmate.”
“Crazy.”
“What’s so crazy about it?”
“In my line we don’t deal in IOU’s, Fitz. Cash before delivery. That’s the policy.”
“The policy shall have to be altered in this case.”
“Yeah? What makes you think so?”
“Well, let’s face the facts. I can’t get the cash without leaving here. I can’t leave here unless I pay a three-month arrears in alimony. That amounts to more than twelve thousand bucks. But if I should petition the court and pay up and get out, my freedom itself would make me a prime suspect in the event of my ex-wife’s murder. Ergo, it is essential to the plan that I be certifiably in durance when Eva’s life is snuffed out. So?”
“So what?”
“Will you take the contract, Alec?”
“Not a chance, man.”
“Would you consider it if I sweeten it up a little?”
“Not a chance.”
“What if I add to the thirty thousand the twelve I’d save on back alimony? That’s forty-two big ones, Alec. A man can go places with forty-two.”
“You’re spinning your wheels, Fitz.”
“You mean you don’t trust me?”
“I trust in God. All others pay cash. That’s a piece of my code.”
“Is that your last word?”
“You catch on.”
“Good morning, Fitz.”
“Good morning, McGee. Is that a radio under your arm?”
“Nothing else but.”
“Eureka!”
“No, it’s a Japanese make.”
“I thank you, McGee. Just charge the rental to my commissary account.”
“Don’t worry.”
“You’re not smiling, Alec. Does that mean the great mouthpiece brought negative news?”
“I’m making bail. I’ll be sprung in an hour.”
“Then why the long face?”
“The party putting up the bail also gives me the word to jump it.”
“Is that so bad in your line of work, Alec?”
“It definitely ain’t good, man. It means somebody don’t trust me in front of the grand jury.”
“So they want you to make yourself scarce.”
“That’s about it. Which means I need running money, Fitz. A big pocketful of bread.”
“Won’t your patron supply you with that?”
“The word I get is they’re writing off the bail bond and that’s all. I’m on my own. It’s your lucky day, Fitz.”
“Oh?”
“That contract you want to let.”
“Oh yes.”
“I got ten days before the grand jury wants me. Time to handle a contract. For fifty K.”
“Fifty?”
“If it’s too rich, forget it.”
“It’s not the price, Alec. The job’s worth every penny of it. But what about your policy of cash before delivery?”
“I’m changing that just this once.”
“So you trust me at last.”
“Like hell I do. But I need the bread bad. Once I do my part, how long will it take your lawyer to spring you?”
“About five days, I’d guess.”
“Five days? Why so long?”
“Well, the court requires certain formalities, as I understand it. To purge myself of contempt I’d have to get my lawyer to present proof of my ex-wife’s death, together with a petition of some sort. A good five days, I’d say.”
“No more than five days?”
“That should do it.”
“Okay. Now today’s Tuesday. I’ll do the job tomorrow. That’s Wednesday. As soon as you get the word, you start your lawyer in motion. That gives him Thursday and Friday to collect his papers. We got to write off the weekend. Which brings us to Monday. You think you can get loose by then, man?”
“I’ll guarantee it.”
“And you better believe I’ll be watching the damn court dockets like a damn hawk. As soon as you set foot on the street I’ll be close to you as your socks and we’ll quick-step it to your handiest safe-deposit box.”
“Perfect.”
“Remember, I got to get my tail outa the country before the grand jury calls. Now tell me all I ought to know about this broad.”
“After the sound of the gong we’ll be bringing you the eleventh-hour news...
“Less than an hour ago sudden death finally caught up with lovely society matron Eva Merritt as she stepped from her car in a parking lot near a beauty salon where she had a standing appointment every Wednesday morning. Police say Mrs. Merritt was shot in the head at close range by a person unknown who probably used a silencer. Nobody heard the shot and no eyewitnesses have come forward as yet. Only two weeks ago this same woman narrowly escaped death when she and her husband, Dr. Peter Watkins Merritt, were taking an after-dinner stroll outside their Fifth Avenue residence. At that time the bullet missed by a fraction of an inch, ripping through the sleeve of the fur coat she was wearing. Both the doctor and his wife saw the assailant as he fled down an alley and tentatively identified him as her first husband, Cornelius Fitzhugh. Police arrested Fitzhugh two hours later at Laurelton Farms on Long Island where he was employed as a trainer of blooded horses. He steadfastly denied making the attempt on the life of his former wife who had won a hotly contested divorce against him three years earlier and had even settled an undisclosed sum of money on him as alimony...”