The deaf man grinned.
And then, of course, it was necessary to dispose of the costume. It would not have been necessary were you not such an organized man, Mr. McDouglas. But stamped into the lining of each of your costumes is the name of your shop, and we couldn’t have run the risk of the police stripping down a corpse and then coming here to ask you questions about it, now could we, Mr. McDouglas? No, no, it was far better the way we did it. Strip the uniform from the body, cart it to Grover Park, and leave it there as naked as the jay birds.
Again, the deaf man grinned.
I’m really terribly sorry to report, Mr. McDouglas, that your lovely night watchman’s uniform was burned to ashes in an incinerator. But that was the only way, you see. We shall do the same thing with these costumes. The police may get to you eventually, Mr. McDouglas, but we certainly don’t want them reaching you any sooner than they ordinarily might.
And when they get to you, you will of course describe me.
The deaf man grinned.
But is my hair really blond, Mr. McDouglas? Or is it bleached especially for this jolly little caper? And am Ireally hard of hearing? Or is the button in my ear a further device to confuse identification? Those are the questions the police must ask themselves, Mr. McDouglas.
I somehow feel they’ll have themselves a merry little chase.
“Here we are,” McDouglas said, coming from the back of the shop. “How do you like them?”
The deaf man studied the white uniforms.
“Very nice, Mr. McDouglas,” he said. “How much is that?”
“Pay me when you bring them back,” McDouglas said.
The deaf man smiled graciously. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been in this business twenty-five years,” McDouglas said, “and I’ve never been stuck with a bum check, and I’ve never yet had anybody steal a costume from me. And in all that time, I never once took a deposit and the people always paid for the costumes when they brought them back.” McDouglas rapped his knuckles on the wooden counter. “I’ve never been robbed yet.”
“Well,” the deaf man said, grinning, “there’s always a first time,” and McDouglas burst out laughing. The deaf man continued watching him, grinning.
When his laughter subsided, McDouglas said. “Who’s directing this movie of yours?”
“I am.”
“That must be hard. Directing a movie.”
“Not if you plan everything beforehand,” the deaf man answered.
THAT NIGHT,they put the first part of their plan into action.
At 11:01, a moment after the night watchman at the Pick-Pak Ice Cream Company entered the elevator which would take him to the top floor of the building, Rafe ran a bony hand through his straw-blond hair, adjusted his gold-rimmed eyeglasses and, without uttering a sound, promptly picked the lock on the front gate. Chuck, burly and apelike, pushed the gate back far enough for both men to enter. He rolled it closed again and they both walked to the nearest truck. Chuck got to work on the front license plate and Rafe got to work on the rear one.
At 11:03 they looked up to the top floor of the factory and saw the night watchman’s flashlight illuminating the blank windows like a flitting soul behind a dead man’s eyes.
By 11:05 the transfer of plates had been effectively accomplished, Chuck opened the hood of the truck and climbed in behind the wheel. Rafe found the ignition wires and crossed them. Then he went to the gate and rolled it all the way open. Chuck backed the truck out. Rafe climbed in beside him. He did not bother to close the gate again. The time was 11:07.
It took them fifteen minutes to drive crosstown to the rented store near the new shopping center. Pop and the deaf man were waiting in the back yard when the truck pulled in. The deaf man was wearing dark-grey slacks and a gray sports jacket. His black loafers were highly polished. They glowed even in the dim light from the street lamp.
Pop was wearing the uniform of a night watchman, the second uniform rented by the deaf man in McDouglas’s shop.
The time was 11:23.
“Everything go all right?” the deaf man asked.
“Fine,” Chuck said.
“Then let’s get the signs on. Pop, you can take up your post now.”
The old man walked out to the sidewalk near the front of the shop. The other men went into the store and came out carrying a drill and a bit, an extension cord, a flashlight, two huge metal signs reading “Chelsea Pops” and a box of nuts and bolts. Chuck began drilling holes into the side of the truck. Rafe and the deaf man began fastening on the first sign as soon as Chuck was finished.
The time was 11:34.
At 11:45, the patrolman appeared. His name was Dick Genero, and he ambled along the sidewalk nonchalantly, not expecting trouble and not looking for it. He could see a light flashing behind the store rented by that ice cream company, but the truck was effectively screened from the street by the building itself. On the sidewalk, he saw a man in uniform. At first, he thought it was another cop then he realized it was only a night watchman.
“Hello,” he said to the man.
“Hello,” Pop replied.
“Nice night, huh?” Genero asked.
“Beautiful.”
Genero glanced toward the light in the back yard. “Working back there?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Pop replied. “The ice-cream people.”
“That’s what I figured,” Genero said. “Couldn’t be the shopping-center people. They’re all finished with their construction, aren’t they?”
“Sure,” Pop said.
“You a new man?”
Pop hesitated. “How do you mean?”
“Used to be another fellow here,” Genero said. “When they were first building the center.”
“Oh, yeah,” Pop said.
“What was his name?” Genero asked.
For a moment, Pop felt as if he’d walked into a trap. He did not know the name of the man who’d preceded him. He wondered now if this cop knew the name and was testing him, or if he was just asking a simple question to make conversation.
“Freddie, wasn’t it?” Pop said.
“I forget,” Genero replied. He glanced over at the center. “They sure put these things up fast, don’t they?”
“They sure do,” Pop answered, relieved. He did not look toward the back yard. He did not want this stupid cop to think anything unusual was happening back there.
“The supermarket opened yesterday,” Genero said, “and the drugstore, too. Bank’s moving in tomorrow afternoon, be ready for business on the first. It’s amazing the way they work things nowadays.”
“It sure is,” Pop said.
“A bank is all I need on my beat,” Genero said. “Another headache to worry about.” He studied Pop for a moment, and then asked, “You going to be here steady?”
“No,” Pop answered. “I’m just on temporary.”
“Until all the stores are in, huh?”
“That’s right.”
“Too bad,” Genero said, grinning. “You’da made my job easier.”
The light behind the ice-cream store went out suddenly. Genero looked toward the back yard.
“Guess they’re finished,” he said.
“I wishI was,” Pop answered. “I’ll be here all night long.”
Genero chuckled. “Well, keep an eye on the bank for me, will you?” he said. He clapped the old man on the shoulder. “I’ll be seeing you.”