by Ellery Queen
“Mr. Furia to cops.”
“Mr. Furia.”
“Take a look inside.”
Malone unzipped the bag. Bundles of greenbacks stared up at him.
The purr behind him said, “I still think-”
“Just don’t, Hinch,” Furia said. “Know where this loot comes from, cop?”
“I can guess.” Malone said in a soft voice, “You don’t know about this, Ellen. Tom Howland was killed tonight at the Aztec plant and the payroll stolen. That’s what all the excitement was about. This is the Aztec payroll. Right, Furia?”
“Mister Furia.”
“Mr. Furia.”
“Right.”
He thought Ellen was going to topple over.
“Can I go to my wife, please? She looks sick.”
“No.”
Ellen’s eyes were begging him. They made a quick upward roll toward where little Barbara was. “I’m all right, Loney.”
Malone said, “What did you mean, this is mine?”
“You’ll never have so much bread in your hands your whole life. Enjoy it.”
“What did you mean?”
“Like for the time being.”
“I don’t get it.”
“No? You’re putting me on.”
“I don’t get any of this.”
“You want I should spell it out? What you do, cop, is you hold this for us. Like you’re a bank.”
Malone tried to look stupid.
“You still don’t get it,” Furia said. “We drew a real dumb one, Hinch, a dummy town cop.”
Hinch heehawed.
“Okay, dummy, listen good,” Furia said. “With the bread on us we can’t get through the roadblocks. Without it we can. They’ll have no reason to handle us different from anybody else. Specially seeing there’s going to be four of us in the car.”
“Four of you,” Malone said. His mouth was sticky. “I thought there were three.”
“Four,” Furia said. “Me, Hinch, Goldie, and your kid. Only she’ll be Goldie’s. Her mama, like.”
“No,” Ellen said. ‘Wo.”
“Yeah,” Furia said. “Your kid’s our receipt for the loot. All clear?”
“It’s taking chances,” Malone said carefully. “Suppose one of the officers recognizes her when you’re stopped? This is a small town. Everybody knows everybody. That blows it.”
“You better pray it don’t. Can you pray?”
“Yes,” Malone said. He wondered if it was true. He had not been inside a church since his confirmation. Ellen took Barbara every Sunday to the second mass, she’s not going to grow up a heathen like you, Loney Baloney, you’re a cross he has to bear Father Weil says.
“They tell me it helps,” Furia said. One of the eyes in the bear mask winked. “All clear now?”
“All clear,” Malone said.
“It better be. You try any cop stuff, dummy, or your missus there sets up a squawk, and the kid gets it through the head. Be a nice dummy and keep your old lady’s yap shut and you get the kid back with her noggin in one piece. It’s that simple.”
Ellen’s eyes were scurrying about and Malone said, “Ellen.”
“I won’t. They can’t!”
“They can and you will. We have no choice, honey.”
“You listen to your papa, honey,” Furia said. “He’s a smart dummy.”
“How do we know they’ll keep their word?” Ellen screamed. “You know what you’ve always said about kidnapers, Loney!”
“This isn’t a kidnaping except technically. All they want is to hold Bibby as security till they can get the payroll back.”
“We’ll never see her again.”
“They’ll keep their word,” Malone said. “Or they’ll never see this money again. I’ll make sure of that.” He said to Furia, “All right, we have a deal. But now you listen to me and you listen good.”
“Yeah?” Furia said.
“You hurt my daughter and I’ll hunt you down and cut you to pieces. If it takes the rest of my life. You, and this goon, and that woman upstairs.”
A growl behind him. “Fure, let me. Let me.”
“You close your goddam mouth, Hinch!” Furia shouted. He jumped up and sprang forward, eyes in the wrinkled mask boiling. “I ought to knock you off right now, cop, you know that?”
“You need me,” Malone said. He tried not to swallow.
“I ain’t going to need you forever. Nobody talks to me like that. But nobody!”
“Remember what I said.”
Their eyes locked. I could jump him now. And get a bullet in my back from the goon. And leave Ellen and Bibby to their mercy. Malone looked away.
“Goldie!” Furia yelled.
A woman’s voice from upstairs said, “Yes, Fure.”
“Wake the kid up and get her dressed!”
“Let me,” Ellen whimpered. “Please? She’ll be so scared.”
“Let her,” Malone said. “She’s not going to try anything.”
“She damn well better not.” Furia waved the Colt. Ellen jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs.
Furia sat himself down on the rocker. The Colt was aimed at Malone’s navel. He’d love to pull that trigger. He’d pull, not squeeze. He’s kill-crazy. Malone looked down at his own hands. They were gripping the edge of the sofa so hard the knuckles resembled dead bone. He put his hands on the black bag.
They appeared at the top of the stairs, Ellen clutching Barbara’s hand, the woman strolling behind them. The woman was wearing a mask, too. Through the mouth slit she was smoking a goldtipped cigaret. That was all Malone saw of her.
He said with a smile, “Baby. Come down here.”
She was still sleepy. Ellen had dressed her in her best outfit, the red corduroy dress, the patent leather shoes, the blue wool coat and hat.
“Have you told her anything, Ellen?”
“What could I tell her?” Ellen said. “What?”
“Are we going someplace, daddy?” Bibby asked.
He set the black bag on the sofa and took her on his lap. “Bibby, are you all waked up?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Will you listen to me very, very hard?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“These people are going to take you somewhere in a car. You’re to go with them like a good girl.”
“Aren’t you and mommy going, too?”
“No, baby.”
“Then why do I have to go?”
“I can’t explain now. Let’s say it’s because I ask you to.”
Her lips began to quiver. “I don’t like them. Why are they wearing those masks? They’re hor’ble.”
“Oh, they’re just pretending something.”
“They have guns. They’ll hurt me.”
“I have a gun and I’ve never hurt you, have I?”
“No, daddy… “
“Come on,” Furia said. “Time’s up, like the screws say.”
“Wait a minute, Fure,” the woman said. “Let him explain it to his little girl.”
“They won’t hurt you, Bibby. I promise. Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
“No… “
“Remember, they won’t hurt you. And you do whatever they tell you, Bibby. Whatever. You may even have to pretend, too, the way you did in the school play.”
“Pretend what?” Barbara asked in an interested voice.
“Well, the chances are some policemen are going to stop the car. If they do you make believe you’re sleeping in the lady’s lap. If they wake you up and ask you questions, just say the lady is your mama and that’s all.”
“My mama? That lady?” She looked at her mother. Her mother looked at her.
“It’s just pretend, baby. Do you understand?”
“I understand, but not whyT
“Some day I’ll explain the whole thing to you. But for now you’ve got to promise me you’ll do whatever they say. Promos? ise:
“All right. When will they bring me back?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A
day, maybe two.”
“Well,” Barbara said. “I don’t like to, but I guess I will. Goodbye, daddy.” She held her face up to be kissed. Valentine face. He kissed it. She jumped off his lap and ran to her mother.
Ellen held on to her.
“Okay, okay,” Furia said. Malone could have sworn he was grinning under the mask. “Let’s get the show on the road, like they say.”
“Ellen,” Malone said.
The woman walked over and pulled Barbara from Ellen’s clutch. Sexy figure, flashy getup, hard voice-maybe late twenties, though it was hard to tell without a face to go by. And brains, she’s the brains. I know her from somewhere. I’ve heard that voice before. A long time ago.
“Come on, honey,” the woman said. “We’ll have just buckets of fun.” She took Barbara’s hand. “Fure. It won’t hurt to buy insurance. With Barbara in the car, and you and her and me making like one happy family, it will look better if Hinch isn’t with us. That getup of his doesn’t go with the act.”
“What, what?” Hinch said.
“Goldie’s right,” Furia said. “You hoof it, Hinch. You can cut off that main road into the woods somewheres and stand a good chance of not even being stopped. If they stop you, so what? One guy on the hitch. Stow your mask in the car. Also the heater-I’ll drop it in the river before we get to the checkpoint. We’ll meet you at the shack.”
Hinch glanced at the Walther automatic in his hand. He’s not used to guns. Malone tucked the observation away. “If you say so, Fure. Not because of her.”
“I say so.”
“Goldie and you and the kid’ll meet me?”
“You worried about something?”
“Who, me? I ain’t worried, Fure.”
“Then do like I say. All right, Goldie.”
The woman immediately said, “We’ll be seeing you soon, mommy. Won’t we, Bibs?” and they marched out through the archway and into the hall and out the front door and, incredibly, were gone.
Furia backed his way out. At the door he said, “Remember, cop, that’s your kid we got. So don’t be a hero.”
And he was gone, too.
They were left alone with the black bag.
Standing at the window watching the Chrysler back around and straighten out and head down Old Bradford Road toward Lovers Hill.
Standing at the window until the sound of the Chrysler died.
Then Ellen whirled and said in a voice full of hate, “You great big policeman you. You cowardly sonofabitch, you let them take my Bibby away. You let them!” and she was punching his chest and sobbing and he put his arms around her and said in a hoarseness of baffled rage, “Ellen, they won’t hurt her, I’ll kill them, they want that money more than anything, don’t cry, Ellen, I’ll get her back.”
Thursday
The Child
Malone spent the first two hours trying to get Ellen to go to bed. She just sat in the rocker rocking. He kept at it like a gung ho D.I. because he could think of nothing else. Finally Ellen said, “How can I sleep when my baby is in the hands of those murderers?” and he gave up.
At one thirty Malone said, “Would you like some coffee?”
“I’ll make some.”
“No, I’ll do it. You sit there.”
“I don’t want any.”
“Watch the bag.”
“What?”
“The bag. With the money.”
She stared at it with loathing. It was on the coffee table before the sofa. “How much is in it?”
“I don’t know. A week’s payroll for Aztec.”
“Count it,” Ellen said. “I want to find out how much my child’s life is worth.”
“Ellen.”
“It’s like an insurance policy, isn’t it?” Ellen said. “And I’ve been after you for years to take one out for Bibby.” She laughed. “For her college education.”
“Ellen, for God’s sake.”
“I know, we can’t afford it. Can we afford it now? Oh, never mind. Go drink your coffee.”
“I only thought-”
“All right. I’ll have some, too.”
He hurried into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. When he came back she was counting the money.
“Over twenty-four thousand dollars.”
He looked at it.
“It’s a lot of money,” Malone said inanely.
Ellen grinned. “She’s a lot of little girl.”
He crammed the money back into the bag with trembling hands.
Neither took more than a few sips.
She kept rocking.
At three a.m. she suddenly said, “Is this all you’re going to do, Loney? Sit here?”
“What else can I do? There’s nothing I can do tonight.”
“What kind of a man are you? I thought I knew you.” Her eyes summed him up like an obituary.
“That little one, Furia,” Malone explained to the floor. “He’s gun-happy. I want them to get to wherever they’re holing up without any trouble. It’s the best protection Bibby can have. They’ll have no excuse… Look, why don’t we talk in the morning? You’re dead for sleep.”
“Look who’s talking.”
“I’ll go to bed in a while. Let me give you a pill.”
“No.”
“What good are you going to do Bibby sitting up all night? You’ll need your strength.”
“And you won’t?”
“I’ll go, too, I tell you. Come on, how about it?”
At a quarter of four she allowed him to give her one of the sleeping pills left over from Dr. Levitt’s prescription, when she had had the last miscarriage. She undressed stiffly. She moved like Barbara’s walking doll. He tucked her into bed and stooped to kiss her.
She turned her face away.
He dragged back down to the parlor.
He carried the coffee things into the kitchen, washed and dried them, put them away.
Then he went back upstairs.
The robe and slippers were on the gilt chair. Little pajamas on the floor, the ones with the daisies she was ape over. He picked them up and folded them and hung them with care over the foot of her canopy bed. She loved her bed, with its lace-trimmed tester. It was a cheap one, everything they owned was cheap except a few of Ellen’s mother’s things, but Bibby was crazy about it. Her homework was on the work-table, in her hentrack handwriting. She always gets U-for-Unsatisfactory in Neatness. He picked up her plaid school-bag and looked in. It was full of drawing papers, crayons of fun trees, happy cows, sunny houses, huge suns. E-for-Excel-lent in Art. Her drawings laughed, her teacher said.
Those killer skunks.
The sheet and blanket were flung back from when Ellen had awakened her. The pillow still showed the dent of her head.
He felt the bed, trying to feel his child.
But it was cold.
He eased the door to Barbara’s room shut and looked in on his wife. Ellen was asleep. One arm was drawn across her face to shut the world out. She was making mewing sounds. Poor Ellen. Who else has she got to blame? She’s got to get back at somebody.
He went downstairs again. He opened the black bag and counted out the money on the coffee table. $24,358.25. It was like counting out Bibby. Is this all my kid is worth? Figure a life expectancy of seventy years. That makes her worth less than $350 a year.
Not enough. I’ll kill them.
He fell asleep on the sofa, the black bag hugged to his belly.
* * *
He was driving the Pontiac along the river road through pearly fog at a hundred miles an hour leaving a sand wake like a launch and John Secco was sobbing, “Ease up, Wes, for God’s sake take it slower, you’ll kill us both, that’s an order,” but he kept his foot on the accelerator and he was grinning because the black Chrysler was right there up ahead. He could see its red lights through the fog and Bibby’s face in the rear window frightened to death and the gold woman blowing cigaret smoke in her little white face. He stepped harder trying to push the pedal through the
floor but no matter how hard he pushed the Chrysler kept the same distance ahead. Then it was rising in the air in an arc like a flying fish heading for the Tonekeneke’s black water and he tried to pull it back with both hands to keep it from falling into the river but he had no strength, it slipped through his fingers and the splash hit him like a stone wall and he found his voice Bibby Bibby BIBBY…
He opened his eyes.
Ellen was kneeling by the sofa with her arms around him.
“Loney, wake up. You’re having a dream.”
He sat up. His belly felt sore. It was the bag digging into him.
“Oh, Loney, I’m sorry.”
“About what?” He was shaking.
“The way I acted last night.” Ellen’s arms tightened. “As if it’s your fault. I’m a bitch.”
“No, you’re not.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Forgive me?”
“What’s to forgive?” He swung his legs to the floor and groaned. “I swear I’m tireder now than I was last night. No calls?”
“No, darling. She’ll be all right. I know she will.”
“Of course she will.”
“Why didn’t you get undressed and into bed? No wonder you’re exhausted. This sofa is the original torture rack.”
“I must have dropped off. I could use a couple gallons coffee, Mrs. Malone.”
“It’s all ready for you. You just sit here. I’ll get it.”
“No, I’ll come into the kitchen. What time is it?”
“Seven thirty.”
“I have to make a call.”
She was instantly alarmed. “To where?”
“To the station.”
“Loney, you promised-”
“Don’t worry, Ellen.”
They went into the kitchen. Ellen spooned out the coffee, watching him. He went to the wall phone and dialed.
“Wes Malone,” Malone said. “Who’s this?”
“Trooper Miller. Oh. Wes.” The young Resident Trooper sounded groggy. “What can I do for you?”
“Chief Secco there?”
“He’s gone home for some shuteye. Don’t ask me why, but I volunteered to hold down the fort till the day man comes in. Where the hell is he? I haven’t slept since night before last.”
“What’s doing? I mean about those killers.”
“Not a thing. Looks like they slipped through before we set up the blocks. Anything I can do for you?”