He Won't Need it Now

     “Yeah. You ready to play ball?”

     “Sure, I'm ready to trade. Competition wasn't so hot. They offered forty grand, no more, no less. It's yours for fifty.”

     Gleason raved, “How the hell can I get fifty grand together?”

     Duffy's mouth shaped into a smile, but his eyes were mirthless. “I'm moving out tomorrow first thing,” he said. “I don't care who has the list, but I want somebody's cash tonight. Fifty grand ain't all that big, for an outfit like yours.”

     Gleason said, “You're going to pay for this, you sonofabitch.”

     Duffy said, “Not until I get the dough and you get the book. After that, we'll all have to watch out.”

     Gleason was silent for a moment. Then he said, “I can't bring cash; I'll make it a certified cheque.”

     “Cash,” Duffy's voice was hard. “I'm feeding at the 'Red Ribbon' tonight around eight-thirty. If you ain't there by the time I'm through, the deal's off. And it's gotta be cash.” He dropped the receiver back and went upstairs.

     Olga was kneeling before a large cabin trunk. The floor was strewn with her clothes.

     Duffy said, “For God's sake...”

     She turned her head and smiled at him. “Come and help,” she said.

     He looked at the small clock on the mantelshelf. From where he stood he could just make out the tiny hands. It was six-thirty. He put his hands under her elbows and brought her to her feet.

     “Listen, baby,” he said patiently, “this is going to be a quick journey. Leave all this junk. Just pack a bag. I'll buy you the world when we're out of this.”

     She made a little face. “They're so lovely.” She turned and looked at the things lying about.

     “Come on,” he urged, “time's moving.”

     Together, they packed two large grips. Then Duffy went downstairs. He went into the kitchen and found a full bottle of Scotch. Taking two glasses, he went upstairs again. Putting the bottle on the small table by the bed he said, “Let's have a drink.”

     Olga came over and tore off the tissue wrapping round the bottle and flipped up the patent stopper. She splashed three inches of whisky into each glass.

     Duffy said, “To us,” and they drank.

     “We're feeding at the 'Red Ribbon' tonight.”

     She added some ginger ale to the whisky.

     “And then...?”

     “Gleason might bring the dough. I think he will. If he does, we get in the Buick and get out of town quick.”

     “And the lists?”

     He nodded. “Sure, I ain't forgotten them. I'm going to collect right now. I'll be gone about half an hour. You change. Put on something you can travel in.”

     She came over to him and put her arms tightly round his neck.

     “What's this?” he asked.

     She raised herself on her toes and whispered urgently in his ear.

     He looked at the clock, then he shook his head. “Not now,” he said gently.

     Her cool arms tightened, pulling his head down. “Please...” she said, very low. “Now.”

     He put his lips gently on hers and pressed her to him, but his mind was elsewhere. He was thinking of Gleason, of Morgan, of the money, of how he was going to slip out of town. He was surprised at her. He thought this was a hell of a time to start a thing like this.

     Then he put up his hands and took her arms from his neck, and pushed her away, still holding her arms.

     “Tonight,” he said firmly. “Look at the time. I've gotta get to the bank.”

     A faint colour came to her face, and she didn't look at him. She turned away. “The bank will be shut, won't it?” she said, still keeping her back to him. He noticed how toneless her voice was.

     “Yeah, but I fixed that. There's an audit that's keeping 'em late. The teller there's a pal of mine. I warned him I might want the list late.”

     He wandered over to her. “You ain't sore with me?” he said gently, putting his arms round her.

     She turned her head. She was still flushed. “No. I'm not sore.” Then she said fiercely, “If only it were all over. If only we were out of this with the money, and safe.”

     Duffy said, “Now don't go into a spin. It's going to work out okay, you see.”

     “But you don't know,” she said, her breasts suddenly rising and falling. “Bill, you don't know. I've been through so much... and—and now I've found you. I'm frightened it won't be all right.”

     Duffy said, “Hey! You don't want to get worked up. I tell you, we'll get away with it. We're going to have a fine time. We're going to be in the dough. You and me. We're going to have dough to burn... you see.”

     She said quite quietly, “I feel something horrible's going to happen.”

     Duffy said, “Skip it, honey. The Scotch's got hold of you.” He kissed her and he had to push her gently from him. Then he walked to the door. “I shan't be long,” he said over his shoulder, and shut the door behind him.

     She stood motionless where he had left her, then she suddenly said in a low voice, “Come back, I'm scared. Bill, come back....”

     Out in the street, Duffy paused to light a cigarette. He threw the match from him and climbed into the Buick. As he started the engine he saw in his driving-mirror a big Packard turn into the street and drive slowly towards him. He glanced at it and then engaged his gear. His mind was still brooding on his future plans.