by David Barry
‘Or perhaps I should change that to downright scared. ‘
He reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘Not of me, I hope. ‘
She shook her head. ‘No. I love you, Bill. That’s what scares me. I don’t think I could bear it if. . . ‘
Tears suddenly overwhelmed her and she heaved and sobbed. He leapt up and went to her side, holding her close, her head cradled in his side.
Jean, Jean, my baby,’ he soothed. ‘Nothing’ll happen to me. I promise you, Everything’s going to be okay. ‘
He waited while her body shuddered and he could feel the wetness of her tears through his shirt. He waited, gently stroking her hair, knowing that once it was out of her system, she would calm down. Eventually, in a small quivering voice, she asked him to get her a handkerchief. He went into the bedroom, came back with one of his own, and handed it to her. She sniffed, then blew loudly into the linen, and dabbed at her eyes.
‘It was the shock,’ she explained. ‘I’ll be all right. ‘
‘I’ll lie low for a while, then we’ll go to Philadelphia,’ he said. ‘I’ve been out of Sing Sing since last November and I’m still free. And the police photographs are nothing like me. There’s nothing to worry about. ‘
She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief before looking up at him. ‘Why Philadelphia?’ she asked.
He paused. He had to tell her, and didn’t know how she would take it.
‘One more job,’ he said.
She frowned, and her mouth half opened, as if she couldn’t quite comprehend what he was telling her.
‘It’s just one more bank before I retire,’ he continued quickly. ‘Eddie’s already cased this one in Philadelphia, and after that we can go away somewhere and start afresh. California, maybe. One last job. Then we can take off to pastures new. ‘
Chapter Thirteen
September, 1933
He bought a copy of The Philadelphia Inquirer at the newsstand then walked to a crowded bus stop and got on the end of the queue. Nonchalantly, he unfolded the paper and stared at the front page. This time they were the main story. A banner headline screamed across the top that a Philadelphia bank had been robbed of $160,000 by a New York gang, and the police had quickly put two-and-two together and worked out that Willie the Actor was responsible. He was now becoming more famous than Adolf Hitler, whose policy of sterilizing people with hereditary diseases and disabilities in order to create a master race, merited fewer column inches at the bottom of the page.
A bus came along, and he eased himself away from the queue, walked to the corner of the next block and hailed a cab. He gave the cabby a phony address, just half a mile from Eddie Wilson’s apartment, then got out and walked the rest of the way. He wasn’t particularly worried about being spotted. While still in New York he had grown another moustache, which he had worn for the Philadelphia robbery, and padded his cheeks with cotton wool, coloring them to give himself a ruddy complexion and darkened his eyebrows. Immediately after the robbery, he had shaved the moustache and was now wearing spectacles with plain glass. And his police photograph, which the newspapers were still using, was not a good likeness. Although it had been taken less than two years ago, he was thinner-faced then, and much younger looking. Walking along he felt comfortable; just one of the teeming populace. As long as he kept away from the places the bad guys hung out, such as racetracks and speakeasies, he felt safe.
He knocked on Eddie’s door, their prearranged identifying knock, and Eddie opened quickly and let him in. Joe Pelango was sitting in an easy chair, his legs dangling over the armrest. He gave Pelango a cursory nod, and was surprised to find Nina Romano present, sitting on a sofa, her shapely legs crossed, smoking a cigarette in a holder. Bill looked from her to Pelango and back again and wondered if they were going out together. He removed his glasses and tucked them in his breast pocket.
‘Nina sweetheart,’ said Eddie, ‘fancy a little shopping expedition? Treat yourself, honey. ‘
She got up off the sofa, ground her cigarette into the ashtray on a small occasional table, and walked over to Eddie as he tugged a bundle of ten dollar bills from a wad. She moved close to him, and kissed him full on the lips.
‘How long’s this expedition gonna take?’ she said as he pressed the bills into her hand.
‘Take a couple of hours,’ Eddie told her, and patted her on the backside as she left. With a grin he turned to look at Bill. Bill glared at him.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘I thought you were going out with her sister. ‘
‘I was. ‘
Bill felt the anger growing inside him. Although he’d never been a violent man, he suddenly wanted to strike Eddie hard in the mouth, especially as he had that smug look on his face. Instead, he did what he always did, and controlled himself.
‘You’re a fool, Eddie. A damn fool. As intelligent as a peanut. I told you what happened to Jack Bassett. ‘
Wilson looked serious, and a trifle hurt. ‘Relax, Bill. Lydia knows.’
‘She knows?’
‘Nina squared it with her sister. Everything’s rosy. ‘
Bill frowned. ‘You mean she didn’t have any objections?’
Wilson shrugged. ‘Well, maybe a little to begin with. . . ‘
Bill sighed and shook his head with disbelief. Wilson continued speaking hurriedly.
‘But she’s finally come to accept it. And Nina’s seeing her the end of the week. Everything’ll be fine. ‘
‘Lydia’s coming to Philadelphia?’
Wilson shook his head. ‘We’re going to New York. ‘
‘Are you kidding?’ Bill thrust The Philadelphia Inquirer at Wilson. ‘They know it’s a Willie the Actor job, Eddie. They know we’re from New York. You’d be better off lying low in Philly. They’ll be expecting us to high-tail it back to New York and they’ll be on the lookout at all the ports of entry. Try going through the turnpikes and you could be in trouble. ‘
Wilson read the first paragraph of the robbery news, then, with a nod in Pelango’s direction, said, ‘Joe’s already worked that one out. We’ll head upstate then come down from the north. ‘
‘It’s still risky. ‘
‘At least with New York we know our territory,’ said Pelango. ‘We’re strangers here. We feel. . . what’s the word I’m looking for?’
‘Vulnerable?’ Bill offered.
‘Yeah. If you say so. ‘
‘Okay,’ Bill reluctantly agreed. ‘Let’s agree to differ. But I’m staying here for a while. ‘
‘Suit yourself,’ said Wilson, then grinned hugely and rubbed his hands gleefully. ‘Now - it’s pay day. And if I’m not much mistaken, $160,000 divided by three gives us each a handsome $53,000 plus. Not bad for a morning’s work. ‘
Wilson’s buoyant mood was infectious and Bill grinned back at him.
‘Joe,’ said Wilson, ‘would you be so good as to fetch the loot? We’ve got some counting to do. ‘
Jean bought a good supply of food and they stayed in their apartment the rest of the week. She was getting restless and worried, and it was being cooped up that did it. Was this what it was going to be like for the rest of their lives? Constantly looking over their shoulders. She felt the need to travel, go somewhere hot and sunny, where she could feel they’d escaped. On Friday it rained, and she stood at the window and watched the scene in the street below, grey and miserable, pedestrians and traffic limping slowly by. Bill, who was reading a Thomas Hardy novel, heard her sigh.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Oh, nothing. ‘
‘Are you getting bored?’
‘It’s not boredom. I’m worried. If we stay in constantly, we might arouse someone’s suspicions. That odd couple who never go out. People might start asking questions. ‘
‘I’m happy to risk a walk
, if it’ll make you feel better. ‘
Impulsively, she came hurriedly to the side of his easy chair, knelt on the floor and leaned affectionately against his leg. When she looked up at him, it was with a pleading expression and he could guess what she was going to say.
‘When we were in New York, just after the Union bank robbery, you said you were thinking of retiring after this Philadelphia job. You said we might go to California. Let’s go now, before it’s too late.‘
Bill hesitated. ‘Er - yeah. We will go. But not just yet. ‘
‘But why not?’ she begged. ‘What’s to stop us?’
‘I’ve got some business to take care of in New York first. ‘
‘What sort of business?’
‘I left someone with $10,000 to look after. I’ll need to collect it. ‘
It was true he had left this amount of money in New York, only he hadn’t given it to anyone to look after. Three weeks after the Union bank job, he had returned to Prospect Park and buried the money behind the rhododendron bush. When he thought about this act, it was like an admission of defeat, burying it as an insurance, in case he was caught. He knew that if they caught him next time, they would throw away the key. And there was no way he would ever consider serving his time. But now that Jean was urging him to go to the west coast, he thought of returning to Prospect Park to collect the money. This would give them $63,000 to start afresh.
Jean stared sadly into the distance. ‘I have a terrible feeling about New York,’ she said.
He brushed her hair with the back of his hand.
‘It’ll be fine. I promise you. ‘
While Bill was having this conversation with Jean, Joe Pelango was at that very moment driving through Washington Heights. Eddie Wilson sits in the passenger seat and Nina is in the back. The nearer to the centre of Manhattan they get, the more elated they become. Joe Pelango tells them about his grandparents who came from Salerno in Southern Italy, and how he plans to use some of the money to take a trip to Italy, to see the land of his forefathers. He is so busy dreaming and talking of this long vacation, he doesn’t notice the black sedan that has been following them for about a mile. They stop at an intersection and the black sedan accelerates, pulls out on their left and screeches to a halt is it draws level with them. It all happens in an instant. None of them have much time to register the three men with guns clambering out of their car. Eddie Wilson is the first to react as he tries to open his door. He has his hand on the handle as the bullet bursts through the window, narrowly misses Pelango, and enters his head at an angle. Pelango, frozen with fear, starts to raise his hands in surrender, and that’s when the other shot is fired. It’s intended for Pelango but misses, and blasts into the back of the car, where it hits the wedding ring finger of Nina Ramona’s hand. She doesn’t feel much pain, but as soon as she sees the blood and the gap where her finger should have been, she begins screaming hysterically. Pelango starts yelling:
‘Don’t shoot. I’m not armed. Don’t shoot. ‘
Eddie Wilson is taken to hospital, where it’s discovered he will live, but will be blind for the rest of his life. The bullet has severed his optical nerve. Nina Ramona is also taken to hospital for treatment. But Joe Pelango is taken into police custody where he is charged with armed robbery. He denies taking part in any robberies, and says he was only hired by Eddie Wilson to drive him into town. Two Irish detectives and a uniformed sergeant take him down to the cells to question him. They also take a rubber hose with them.
On Saturday morning, while Jean cleared away the breakfast things, Bill read a news item on the front page of The Philadelphia Inquirer about Nazis in Germany sending hundreds of Jews to concentration camps such as Dachau. The thoughts of incarceration had him brooding about escape and migration to a place of safety. He thought life on the west coast would be relatively secure. He could forge a new identity for himself, and start a small business, and for the first time in his life he could go straight. The idea appealed. Suddenly he longed to kiss goodbye to Willie the Actor, the most wanted bank robber in the USA.
‘Jean,’ he said as she was about to disappear into the kitchen with the breakfast plates. ‘Don’t bother with the washing up. We’re getting out of here. ‘
Jean’s face lit up. She came back to the table and put the plates down.
‘Where are we going?’ she said, the expression in her eyes pleading for what she wanted to hear.
‘We’re going west. ‘
She came and hugged him. He felt the moistness in her eyes against his cheek. When she looked at him with tears of happiness, he felt himself glowing with a sense of purpose. At least he had a dream that he could make someone happy, and be content with the more modest pleasures in life. But it was also time for action. Making plans and covering his back.
‘When we leave this apartment,’ he explained, ‘they’ll eventually put two-and-two together and find out it was none other than Willie the Actor who rented it. So here’s what we do: we’ll drive say a half mile away from the station, and leave the car in a side street. Then we’ll catch a train somewhere, say Detroit or Chicago. They’ll be on the lookout for New York State or Pennsylvania license plates, so we’ll be able to buy a car with Illinois plates. Then we’ll head out west. See all those places we’ve only read about. ‘
She kissed him and squeezed him tight. ‘Oh, Bill! I’m so excited. I can’t wait. ‘
‘You don’t have to,’ he said. ‘We’re going right away. Just an overnight bag each. To begin with, we’ll travel light. ‘
She beamed at him, her face radiant with excitement. She spun round and headed for the bedroom. ‘I’ll go and pack,’ she said. Then she stopped at the door and turned to face him, a small worried frown and a mixture of puzzlement on her face.
‘What about your $10,000 in New York?’
Bill shrugged. ‘In a year’s time you’ll probably want to come back to Pennsylvania to see your folks. The trail will have gone cold by then. We can come back east and I’ll get my money then. ‘
She flashed him a grateful smile and vanished into the bedroom. He heard her humming a popular tune. He stood up and folded the paper, relieved that a decision had been made. Then came a sudden roar, an ear-shattering noise that almost caused his heart to stop, as splinters of wood blew from the door across the room. He hit the floor. It was the only thing he could do to try to protect himself. The staccato gunfire was terrifying as bullets sprayed through the door and hit the furniture. The door was kicked open and in came three cops wielding tommy-guns. Bill found himself staring at their deadly barrels, praying that none of them were too trigger happy.
‘Willie Sutton, you’re under arrest,’ one of the cops yelled triumphantly. ‘What have you got to say for yourself. ‘
‘You only had to ring the doorbell,’ said Bill, ‘ and I’d have let you in. ‘
The cop kicked him as hard as he could in the chin. From the bedroom doorway, Jean screamed.
Chapter Fourteen
March, 1935
He stood in front of Warden Herbert (Hard-boiled) Smith’s desk, looking suitably respectful, his hands behind his back. Warden Smith was a heavy set man, with bushy, grey eyebrows and a large forehead. He had cold steel grey eyes, which bore unnervingly into every convict, most of whom responded with suitably obsequious behavior. He was a man who commanded fear and respect, and usually got it.
Compared to the warden Bill was lean, as if he exercised regularly, but in actual fact nothing could have been further from the truth. Bill had been in solitary confinement for 18 months. After his trial in 1933, a further 25 to 50 years had been added to his original sentence, to be served at the harsh Eastern State Penitentiary, with 18 months in the isolation block to kick off with. He was now 34 years old, so that would mean he would not be due for release until somewhere towards the end of the century. If he lived that lo
ng. Somehow he doubted it. The prospect was grim and he had nothing to lose by attempting an escape.
‘Well, Sutton,’ the warden began, ‘since I’ve been running things at Eastern State Penitentiary, no-one - not a single convict, you understand - has ever escaped. I have an unblemished record and I intend to keep it that way. ‘
The warden’s eyes cut through Bill’s brain like a blade through butter. He knew damn well what he was thinking.
‘You’re here to serve your sentence,’ he added, ‘and I’ll be keeping a close eye on you now you’re no longer in the isolation block. You’re being transferred to the 7th gallery. As you’ve been in isolation for the last 18 months, you are probably unaware of its reputation. It’s escape proof, Sutton, so don’t even think about it. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir. ‘ Bill made it sound as if he meant it. But the warden was eyeing him shrewdly, knowing full well he couldn’t be trusted.
‘I know you’ll be scheming and plotting, Sutton, but I want you to know that I’ll be ahead of your every move. Well?’
His eyebrows shot up expectantly, waiting for Bill’s response.
‘I think,’ said Bill carefully, ‘ that I’ve resigned myself to my fate, sir. ‘
‘I wish I could believe that, Sutton. And it wasn’t fate that put you in here. It was choice. You chose to rob those banks, now you must pay the price. Have you anything to say for yourself, Sutton. ‘
Bill thought about it, then said, ‘Yes, I’d like to thank you, sir. ‘
Smith glowered at him, wondering if he was trying to be funny.
‘All the time I was in solitary,’ Bill continued, ‘you allowed me all the books I wanted to read. It’s what kept me sane. ‘
The warden’s expression softened. ‘If you want to read or study to improve yourself, that’s fine by me. But you won’t be allowed to work in any machine shop, or do carpentry, or use any tools, Sutton. Not while you’re in my prison. Is that understood?’