“Just our thanks to you. We want to forget—”
“I like that! When I planned all that fracas out there to bring you two together!”
Hal burst out laughing.
“Your method was a bit painful! We would have found each other anyway! It’s written in the stars!”
“There’s gratitude for you!” Morgan grumbled.
He had taken a licking over the case. His failure to save them suffering made him want to demonstrate a very real humbleness. But he did not know how to go about it.
“Well, I’ll leave you together,” he growled. “I’ll leave your door on the latch for myself, too.
“In the meantime, I have a little work of my own to do, though I can never make McCoy realize it!
“So — God bless you, my children!” He lumbered out again.
Why Do They Go?
by G. Haines Trimingham
Matty had an idea why men went for the gangster’s “ride,” but he was dead wrong about it...
I
“Yea, Spike, you know all about it, don’tcha!” retorted Matty Wilkins with obvious irony. “Go ahead and tell me!”
“Havin’ nerve ain’t got nuthin’ to do wid it,” insisted the other man. “It’s hopin’ until the last minute, I guess. And maybe most of them would rather take it where they have some soft grass to fall on.” The speaker’s laugh was not pleasant.
“Bunk! All I can say is that they must be a bunch of saps to go on a ride, with a mighty broad streak of yellow, or they’d take it right then and there — or else shoot it out.”
The stocky man called Spike laughed again. “There ain’t no use tryin’ to convince you. How many of these rides have you seen pulled?”
“None.” Wilkins seemed ashamed to admit the fact. “But I’ve heard about dozens of them. And I’m damned curious.”
“I guess you have to be shown, that’s all. Too bad you can’t get a chance to sit in on one.”
“Ain’t it.”
“I know one what’s gonna be pulled to-morrow and I was asked to handle it, but I’ve been layin’ low lately and I didn’t make no promises. If they raise their ante and are willin’ to get another man, I might change my mind.”
“What’s it pay?” Wilkins asked casually, striking a match.
“Only a half grand,” Spike growled. “It ain’t enough.”
“I wouldn’t mind pickin’ it up. Get them up to six hundred and see if you can horn me in. I’ll let you have the extra jack.”
“No kiddin’, I didn’t know that was part of your racket, Matty. What’s the trouble?”
“I’ll explain it in a letter,” laughed Wilkins. “I’m on the level about this. Can you work it for me?”
“I doubt it. You ain’t so well known. There ain’t no harm tryin’, though. You kin be the third man... I tell you, meet me in the Acme pool room about this time to-morrow afternoon an’ maybe I can fix it up.”
II
“Hello, Spike!” smiled Wilkins, laying down his cue. “How’d you make out?”
“Better than I expected. It’s okay. When you finish the game, we’ll go.”
“It’s finished now.” Wilkins flung a dollar on the green felt. “Let’s go.”
“The other guy is right outside waitin’,” Spike told him when they were on the stairs. “Don’t say a word. I’ll do all the talkin’ till we get on the road. You’ve got a rod, ain’tcha?”
Wilkins nodded.
“This is Matty,” was all Spike said to the man at the wheel. The driver did not even glance at him.
“Uhuh,” he grunted. He let in the clutch and the big sedan glided away.
“It ain’t far,” remarked Spike. “You’ll see I ain’t been kiddin’ you about it bein’ easy.” He fished in his ‘pocket and brought forth a sizable roll of bills. “Hold your hand.”
Some twenty minutes later they pulled up before what was ostensibly an express office, but which had none of the marks of a thriving business.
“Come on!” said Spike. “Better pull down to the corner, Jake. We won’t be long if he’s in. An’ I got reason to know we ain’t gonna be disappointed.”
Spike found a button set in an inconspicuous place near the door, but almost beyond arm’s reach. It was evident he knew the place well, for the door opened almost immediately and they stepped into a long, narrow room, illuminated only by the light filtering through the buff paint and dirt which covered the windows.
“How’s tricks, Tony?” began Spike, addressing a dark man whose smile revealed a perfect set of gleaming teeth.
“Can’t kick. Eighteen cases this week. Pickings are good.”
“But they won’t be for long,” smirked Spike. Wilkins saw his right hand go into a coat pocket. “I’ve got you covered, Tony! My boss wants to see you.”
“The hell you say!” Tony leaped for a dust covered shelf, but Spike was quicker.
“No, you don’t,” the gunman snapped. “Frisk him, Matty. Maybe he’s got another stuck in his belt.”
Matty followed the order while Tony glared and cursed.
“What’s it all about?”
“Can’t you guess? Never mind that. Would you like to write a note to the ball and chain? I’ll give you time. Five minutes. How about it?”
“She don’t mean much to me, but I better drop her a note at that. If—”
“Don’t forget I’ll give it the once over. Better not say too much,” Spike advised.
They both stood guard over him with drawn revolvers while the palpably distraught man scribbled a few lines to his wife. Then, with the gun concealed in his coat pocket, Spike prodded him through the doorway. “Don’t try to pull nothin’ in the street,” he warned. “We won’t leave you until you’re pumped full of lead so you can’t be tellin’ no tales. An’ don’t forget to lock the door.”
III
The four were speeding up Second Avenue before Wilkins had time to consume the cigarette he had lighted in the speakeasy. Tony sat quietly in the tonneau beside Spike. None of them had spoken until the car swung onto the Grand Concourse. Tony asked where he was being taken.
“What does it matter? You’ll soon find out.”
Up the Bronx River Parkway they sped. It was sunset and October had been lavish with its colors on the trees. The air was sparkling and Wilkins felt at peace with the world and his companions.
“Have a smoke!” he invited Tony.
“Thanks. I left mine in the store. Too much excitement.”
“Uhuh. But it’s not bothering you none,” Wilkins remarked.
“Why let it?”
The conversation proceeded easily and Wilkins became filled with admiration for the man. He exhibited genuine courage.
“Here we are!” said Spike suddenly, as the car came to a stop atop the Kensico reservoir. “Pretty view, ain’t it? Let’s make it snappy! We just timed it right. It’s gettin’ dark... You stand here, Matty... Tony, you come wid me... About three feet. Right!”
“What’s the idea!” exclaimed Wilkins, as the powerful spot light was focused directly into his eyes. Something hard was prodding into his back.
“Drop the rod!” commanded Jake.
“What the—” snapped Wilkins, a terrible suspicion dawning.
“Yea,” laughed Spike. “Ain’t it a surprise? It was a big surprise to poor Red, too, I guess when you put him on the spot. But his pals ain’t the kind to forget. That light makes you a swell target. You fell for it easy. Now you know why they go, Matty. But you’re not gonna tell nobody.”