The look and feel of the place reassured him; this was village law and order, he thought, polite and dumb, everybody half asleep as they went around looking for chicken thieves or out-of-season gunners. To his left was an office separated from the lobby by a wooden counter. He saw a trooper working there in an atmosphere of filing cabinets, bulletin boards and telephones, the clear bright illumination shining on his serious face. The trooper sat with his back to the closed door of another office, frowning intently at a sheaf of papers on his desk.
Earl had no plan. But he had to find out what had happened to Ingram. The other office belonged to the sheriff, he guessed. Ingram was in there with him now; he could hear a murmur of voices beyond the thin partition, and he recognized the colored man’s anxious, diffident accents.
The trooper glanced up from his reports. “What can I do for you?”
Earl smiled and put his big hands on the counter. “I’m wondering if you could tell me the best way over to New York.”
“Sure thing.” The trooper took a map folder from the drawer of his desk and came over to the counter. “Take the main street out of Crossroads. Follow the signs to the Delaware Memorial Bridge.” He spread the map out on the counter, and indicated the route with a pencil. “Here we are in Crossroads. You just follow those bridge signs, and they’ll take you straight to the Jersey Turnpike. There’s no way to miss it.”
“It looks simple enough. Thanks a lot.” Earl smiled at the young trooper. “You the sheriff or constable here?”
“No, just a deputy.”
“You got a nice little town. Nice and quiet.”
“We try to keep it that way.”
Earl’s smile became insinuating. “I saw lots of colored people around. Don’t they keep you busy?”
The trooper didn’t return his smile. “Most of them were born and raised right here. There’s no reason for them to cause trouble.”
“Well, I saw a trooper bringing one in just ahead of me. I thought it was a regular thing.”
“There’s no charge against him,” the trooper said shortly. “He’s new in town and the sheriff just wants to talk with him.”
“Oh, I see,” Earl said, still smiling faintly. “Well, that’s a pretty good idea. Have a little talk with them right at the start. That makes sense.”
The trooper folded the map decisively. “Anything else, mister?”
“No, nothing at all,” Earl said. “Thanks very much.” In the shelter of the doorway, Earl lighted a cigarette and pulled his collar up about his throat. The snow had turned into a hard, purposeful rain that pounded on the wet, black streets with a sound like that of distant machine-gun fire. He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was nearly seven o’clock. Just one hour left...
Pulling down his hat brim, he strode across the street and stepped into a doorway that provided some shelter from the gusting wind and rain. He threw away his sodden cigarette and shoved his hands into his pockets. In the wet, cold darkness he settled down to wait for Ingram...
Twenty minutes passed before the colored man came hurrying down the graveled path, his collar turned up against the rain and a lumpy suitcase swinging from his hand.
Earl moved out of the doorway and angled swiftly across the shining street, cutting away the distance between them with long, powerful strides. The rain muffled his footsteps as he came up behind Ingram and said sharply, “Don’t turn around, Sambo. Keep moving.”
The side street was dimly lighted and the occasional pedestrians paid no attention to them, hurrying past with eyes on the ground, and chins hidden under turned-up coat collars. “What did he want?” Earl said. He was half a stride behind Ingram, close enough to see the rain on his brown cheek, and the nerve twitching at the corner of his mouth. “What did he want? Start talking.”
“How long I planned to stay in town, what I worked at — that’s all.” Ingrain’s voice was shrill with fear. “But he got my name. I had to give him my name. You hear? He got my name.”
“I’ll be waiting for you up in my hotel room.”
“I can’t — didn’t you hear? He knows me.”
“You do what I tell you, Sambo. God help you if you don’t.”
Earl quickened his strides, passing Ingram without bothering to wait for an answer. On the main street he headed for his hotel, dodging occasionally to avoid the umbrellas wielded by women bumping and burrowing along like moles through the wet crowds. Without looking to see if Ingram was following him, he turned into his hotel and went quickly up to his room. He snapped on the lights and put his wet overcoat on the back of a chair. If he doesn’t show, Earl thought, if he rats out on us... The.38 Novak had given him was comfortable weight in the pocket of his suit coat. Just let him try, he thought, taking out the gun and hefting it in his big hand.
He put the gun away when he heard footsteps on the landing. Smiling faintly he pulled open the door. Ingram stood staring at him with wide, frightened eyes, his small body looking drenched and miserable in the drafty hallway.
“Come on in,” Earl said. “Move, damn it.”
Ingram stepped quickly inside and put his suitcase on the floor. “It’s wet, man, really wet.” His teeth were chattering and his voice sounded high and foolish in his ears. “Never saw anything like this before.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, staring about the room with quick, nervous eyes. “Really crazy, eh?”
“Yeah, it’s wet,” Earl said. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at Ingram. “It’s wet because it’s raining, Sambo. Do you understand that?”
“I understand,” Ingram said. “You’re coming in nice and clear.”
“All right. We can skip the weather. How did you get mixed up with the law?”
“I was in a card game that ended in a fight. The sheriff came along and took me in.” Ingram wet his lips, remembering the powerful feel of the sheriff’s hand on his arm. “He wanted to know what kind of job I was looking for, where I was going to live, stuff like that.” Ingram hesitated. “He treated me all right,” he said, prodded by Earl’s watchful silence. “He gave me the name of the hiring boss out at the mushroom farms, and told me where I could find a room. With a woman named Baker, I think he said.”
“Well, isn’t that nice?” Earl said dryly. “What else did he want to know?”
“He asked me where I learned about cards, and I told him I just picked it up here and there.”
“Why was he interested in that?”
“There was somebody cheating in the game. I had to call him out to save my own hide.”
“Judas priest!” Earl said explosively. “You were supposed to come into town and stay nice and quiet. Instead you hit here like a circus parade. Get in a fight, get yourself arrested. Is that your idea of staying nice and quiet?”
Ingram smiled nervously, knowing he couldn’t explain any of it to the Texan. The man’s mind was made up against him, sealed tight. “It just happened,” he said. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Okay, get the stuff out of your suitcase,” Earl said, glancing at his watch. “It’s seven thirty. We start moving in a half hour.”
“Listen, I can’t do it,” Ingram cried. “Don’t you understand? He’s got my name.”