It was a crisp, new twenty-dollar bill. It was, in fact, the same twenty-dollar bill I had in my wallet.
I wondered if I’d gone crazy. It had to be the same one; there was that narrow brown stain in exactly the same place, Then I got it. It was obvious, of course. This was the one I’d deposited in the bank. They’d both had that stain, but I just hadn’t noticed it. When I looked at them in the cash drawer, they’d probably been turned end for end.
“It’s familiar?” he asked quietly.
So that explained Pressler’s hesitation when he came to it as he was counting. He’d spotted something phony about it, or it had rung a bell of some kind in his mind, just enough to throw him off stride.
“Yes,” I said. “I think I deposited it in the bank this morning.”
This morning; It must be hot, whatever it is. That was only seven hours ago, and it took three to drive here from Sanport. “You’re sure?” he asked.
“Reasonably so,” I said. “It’s new. And there’s that hairline discoloration at the bottom. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing it.”
He leaned forward a little. “When?” he asked. “I mean, do you remember where you got it?”
“Then it is the same one?” I asked. “It came from the bank?”
He nodded. “I picked it up over there just a few minutes ago. Presumably somebody spent it here at your store. Do you remember who it was?”
I was just about to reply when the phone rang. It was up front on the showcase next to the cash register.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
I went out and picked up the receiver. “Boat Supply. Godwin speaking.”
“My, you sound businesslike.” It was Jessica’s voice, teasing and faintly provocative. “Mrs. Godwin speaking,” she went on, imitating me. “Look, honey, would you be a real cute lamb and run over here for a minute?”
“Where?” I asked.
“Mr. Selby’s office. We need your signature on a thing.”
We. We need your signature. Oh, what the hell, I thought; cut it out. You’re developing rabbit ears.
“Sure,” I said. “I’m busy right now, but I should be able to make it in fifteen or twenty minutes.”
”But, Barney, he wants to go home. It’ll only take a minute.”
I regarded the enormity of it. I was keeping Mr. Selby from the bosom of his happy little family. I was not only an annoying by-product of the community property laws, I was a churl who would inconvenience Mr. Selby.
“Jessie, I’m tied up at the moment. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Or why don’t you drop by here with it?”
“It has to be notarized,” she explained, with just a touch of exasperation. It wasn’t necessary, of course, to explain what the paper was. “Look, Barney, for Heaven’s sake, there isn’t anything so important about selling bass plugs that you can’t get away for five minutes.”
“I told you I’d be there as soon as I could.”
“You’re just keeping us waiting for no reason at all. Mr. Selby . . .”
“And how is dear Mr. Selby? Don’t forget to keep your skirt pulled down.”
“Barney. are you coming over here?”
“I told you. When I could get away. Did it ever occur to you I might be busy?”
“I notice you never seem to have any trouble getting away for those stupid fishing trips you go on. . . .”
“I’m sorry,” I said. Next time I’ll clear through channels.”
“Do you have to do this?”
I could feel that tight band across my chest again. Selby was probably listening to her, Ramsey to me. “No,” I said. “And, anyway, why don’t we wait till we can buy radio time and get on the air with it?”
She hung up.
I put the receiver back on the cradle with a hand that shook. I was raging inside. She could stuff Selby and her lousy real estate—I stopped. What was happening to me, anyway? I was beginning to act like a sucker. What had ever become of Godwin the smooth operator?
I suddenly remembered Ramsey back in the office. I rubbed a hand harshly across my face, trying to wring the emotion out of myself so I could think. So what about Ramsey? The thing that stuck out was that he was after something, and that it was big. You could feel it. Look at the way it had happened. It was only seven hours ago I’d deposited that money in the bank, and now. . . It was like throwing a match in spilled gasoline.
The questions began coming from every direction. What was it? Why was it so hot? Where did Mrs. Nunn fit in? And how had she happened to have two of them? In that backwoods fishing camp? It was impossible, but there it was. And why the F.B.I.? I stopped suddenly.
Haig. Wild Bill Haig. I brushed it irritably aside. Why Haig? The F.B.I, must have a few other men it wanted; it didn’t exist for the sole purpose of trying to run down a man who had simply evaporated eighteen months ago.
I turned and went back to the office. Ramsey had got up and was looking out the window. We both sat down again and I picked up the cigarette I had left in the tray.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Now, where were we?”
“Do you remember when you took it in?” he asked.
I drew on the cigarette and frowned. “Let’s see—that deposit was Saturday’s receipts. No, wait. Friday’s and Saturday’s. I didn’t go to the bank Saturday at all.”
He nodded. “Well, that pins it down to two days. Try to think back. There should be a pretty good chance you can isolate the sale.”
I was thinking, but not about that. I was regarding the haphazard operations of Chance. I could have deposited both those bills. I should have bought the stamps with the other. It could still be out there in the register, where he was certain to look before he left. Instead, it was in my pocket. One could have been a fluke, lost in the shuffle; but not two. If he’d traced two of them to this place he’d know damn well I should remember the circumstances. It would mean either one sale that necessarily had to be more than twenty dollars, or a repeater who came in twice and paid for something with identical, new, fresh twenty-dollar bills.
“Is it counterfeit?” I asked. I didn’t think the F.B.I, had anything to do with that, but I wasn’t sure.
He shook his head. “No. It’s perfectly good.”
“It’s just hot, then?”
He smiled faintly. “You might call it that.”
Kidnap pay-off? I thought. Transportation of stolen property across a state line? What else? Bank robbery? I was back to Wild Bill Haig again.
“Can you place it?” he asked quietly.
I shook my head, frowning. “No-o. It beats me.” I was conscious this was the first deliberate lie. The others had all been evasions.
“But it has to be within those two days? Friday or Saturday?”
That’s right I made a deposit Friday morning.”
“There’s no chance it could have been left over in the register or in the safe from previous receipts? I mean, as change, or an oversight, or something like that?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “We leave change, sure; but nothing larger than tens.”
“How about this morning? Before the bank opened?”
I shook my head. “No-o.”
Otis. Otis had come in while I was taking Mrs. Nunn’s payment out of the register. He would know those motors had been picked up. And also that the charges had been over twenty dollars. Careful, pal. Careful.
“Well, we’ve got something to start with, anyway,” Ramsey said. “We’ve isolated it to two days’ receipts. Now—what is your approximate volume of business?”