Manhunt. Volume 9, Number 1, February 1961

“Okay, okay, Monk,” I said. “You don’t have to wave that gun under my nose. I didn’t know how to get in touch with you or Larry, so I thought the best thing to do was come back here and wait in my room for you. I thought maybe you’d call and give me a meet. I stashed the stuff away so it’s safe. I don’t want any part of it, I just did what I thought was right, so help me, Monk.”

“What happened this afternoon?” Monk repeated. His voice was grim.

“Jeez, Monk, you were there. You know as much about it as I do. After I met you at the bridge we rode down in the subway to Radio City. The guy Pete who was supposed to show me which jeweler to go to sat across from me all the way down, reading a paper. I never even nodded to him. When he got off at 47th Street I followed him, just about ten feet behind, like you said. You saw us, you and Larry in the same car.”

“Yeah, I saw you all right in the subway, but what happened on the street?”

“I followed Pete up the subway steps to the street. Just as he got to the top two coppers grabbed him and pushed him into a cigar store. I had that bag full of stuff and it sure felt awfully heavy right then. I was sure they’d grab me too. There was nothing I could do but keep on going as fast as I could. I did. I figured you and Larry would be right behind me but when I looked for you at the next corner I couldn’t see either of you. I guess I panicked a little but I knew I had to get out of that neighborhood fast, so I just kept travelling until I came to Grand Central. Then I calmed down a bit and thought the best thing to do was stash that stuff someplace real quick.”

“Where is it?” Monk interrupted.

“I put it in a subway locker in Grand Central Station,” I told him. “It was the nearest and best and safest place I could think of. After all, I’m not used to carrying a load of hot jewelry around. Anything could happen, then you’d blame me.”

“Okay, buddy, let’s have the key.” Monk held out his free hand.

I swallowed hard. “Look, Monk, let me explain. These coppers scared me the way they grabbed Pete. As soon as I put the stuff in the locker I got a heavy brown envelope in a store there and mailed the key to myself here at the hotel. Nobody saw me, I’m sure of that. One night last week my parole officer was sitting right here in this room waiting for me to come in, and when I did he tossed me from head to foot. If he was waiting here tonight he’d do the same thing. I just didn’t want to take a single chance, that’s why I did it. The key will be here in the morning mail, Monk. You can stay right here with me and I’ll go down with you to get the stuff. That’s the truth, so help me.”

“Maybe it is, and maybe it isn’t,” Monk said. His mouth was still a thin line, his eyes still shiny-bright.

I could read a little relief there, when he heard the stuff was stashed someplace where he might get his hands on it again — the greed showed through.

I knew he’d never kill me until he had his hands on that haul again and right now I was his only chance of doing just that. If that did happen, and I knew it couldn’t, I’d never need my Blue Cross again, but might be able to use a clear title to a little plot in some graveyard.

“That’s a pretty good story,” Monk said slowly. “Trouble is, I don’t believe it. This whole deal today smells, and the more I figure it, the more I think it’s you that stinks.”

“Look, Monk, I did what I thought was right. I did just what you told me to. You got no right saying that to me.”

“I got right,” Monk said. He raised the .38 a little higher on me. “I got all the right I need. Me and Larry and the Boss talked a lot about you tonight, and none of it was good. We even figure you might be a stoolie.”

I half rose out of my chair, my face angry. “I’m no stoolie, Monk. If you didn’t have that gun on me I’d wrap your nose around your face for calling me that. If I was crossing you I could have grabbed a train in Grand Central and been on my way to Chicago with the stuff by now. But I come back here to wait for you to give you your lousy diamonds and you peg me as a stoolie. You and your friends are the ones who stink.”

“Shut up and sit down,” he growled.

I could see I’d scored heavily by the doubt and confusion in his face. Monk was badly rattled by everything that had happened today. He wasn’t a fast thinker and I wanted to keep him off balance.

“What you don’t know,” he continued, “is that when those cops grabbed Pete two young punks with copper written all over them tried to nail me and Larry at the same time. Only we saw them coming and took off real fast. Larry had to belt one of them to get away, but we made it. Then later we couldn’t figure out how come Pete was grabbed so nice and how they tried to grab me and Larry at just the same time. It looks too much like a finger job, and the only finger we can come up with is you. You walk clear away with our diamonds and nobody even looks at you. How come?”