Cop Out (6 page)

“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 worktable, in her hentrack handwriting. She always gets U-for-Unsatisfactory in Neatness. He picked up her plaid schoolbag and looked in. It was full of drawing papers, crayons of fun trees, happy cows, sunny houses, huge suns. E-for-Excellent 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, Es, 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 of 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?”

“No. I was just wondering.”

“Forget it. Somebody'll pick 'em up somewhere. Chief says you're on a couple days' leave, Wes. Make love to your wife or something. No rest, but it's recreation.”

Miller hung up, chuckling.

Malone hung up.

He turned to find Ellen standing over the cups with the kettle poised, a human question mark.

“They got through, Ellen. So Bibby's okay.”

I hope.

“Thank God.”

Ellen poured. A silence dropped between them. He sat down at the kitchen table and set the black bag on the floor between his feet, where he could feel it.

When Malone came down from his shower Ellen was just cradling the phone.

“Who was that?”

“I called Miss Spencer.”

“Who's she?”

“The school nurse, for the umpty-eleventh time. We have to have some excuse why Bibby won't be in school today, Loney. I said I was afraid she might be coming down with the flu and that I'd probably keep her home over the weekend just in case.”

He touched her black Irish hair. “What would I do without you?”

“I'll bet you say that to all your girls.”

“Yep.” He kissed her and felt the tension of her body through the terry robe. “I'm one hell of a cop. I never even thought of the school.”

“Oh, Loney, I've got to do something!” His stomach contracted. She was jerking with sobs again. “My baby … waking up this morning with those horrible people …”

“A few minutes ago you were thanking God they got through all right.”

She kept sobbing. He kept stroking her. He could find nothing else to say. He had always hated to see Ellen cry, he was a complete coward about her tears. They made him furious, they brought back memories of his mother, who had cried her eyes out when his father was alive. The night after his mother-in-law's funeral Ellen had cried till dawn, and he had run up and down in their bedroom finding no words of comfort, only curses at his helplessness.

“I'm sorry.” Ellen pushed away from him. “Bawling isn't going to help Bibby.”

“You cry all you want.”

“No, sir. That nonsense is
over
. Let me make you some breakfast.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“You've got to. You hardly touched your dinner at the Inn last night, you were so tired.”

“I'd throw it right back at you,” Malone said. “Look, hon. We've got to figure out where we stand.”

“All right, Loney.” She immediately sat down. They both avoided the empty third chair.

“There's got to be something we can do besides stay here like bumps on a log.”

“Let's get settled first on what we
can't
do,” Ellen said. “What we can't do is let Chief Secco or anybody know they were here last night and took Bibby. That's the one thing I won't let you do, Loney. We'd better have an understanding about that right off.”

“What do you think I am, crazy?”

“Loney, look at me.”

He looked at her.

“You're not a cop in this thing. You're Bibby's father.”

“I told you,” he said gruffly.

“Just remember,” Ellen said. “Or I swear on my child's life I'll walk out on you and you'll never see me again.”

“What do you want,” he shouted, “my blood?”

“Loney. I had to say it. We have to have that clear.”

“All right, so it's clear! She's my child, too, remember!”

“Don't be mad at me, Loney.”

“All right.” He reached down and brought up the black bag and set it on the table between them. He stared at it bitterly. “We don't even know what they look like. Those goddam masks.”

“Yes,” Ellen said. “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.”

“Huh?”

“Didn't you notice?”

“Notice what?”

“The woman was wearing a Goldilocks mask. That little one—Furia—he was wearing the Papa Bear mask, and the big bruiser was wearing the Mama Bear one. It must be a set.”

“Then there's a Baby Bear mask! For Bibby?”

“That's what I'm wondering.”

He jumped up, sat down again, shook his head. “No, that wouldn't make sense. Why would they put a mask on her? It wouldn't serve any purpose.”

“I just thought I'd mention it,” Ellen said.

He sat thinking. She got up and refilled their cups. “We can do one of two things, Ellen. We can either sit here and wait—”

“I'd
die.
”

“Or I can try to find their hideout and get Bibby back.”

“Wouldn't that be terribly dangerous for Bibby?”

“Could be.”

“Oh, God.”

“Ellen. Why don't I try? I can size up the situation better if and when I find out where they're hiding. If I see it's too dangerous for Bibby I won't move a muscle. How does that sound to you?”

“If you're sure. How can you be sure?”

“Then, if I can get Bibby safely away, we can turn the payroll over to John and tell him the whole story.”

“And have those three come after us in revenge?” Ellen said with a shudder. “Forget about John, Loney.”

“This money belongs to Aztec. We can't just let them walk off with it. I mean of course first we get Bibby back—”

“That's what I was afraid of. You're being a cop again.”

“I'm
not.
”

“Let them have the money. As long as we get Bibby back. Maybe the best thing after all is to sit here and wait. They'll come back with Bibby and we'll hand over the bag and that will be that.”

“And maybe that won't be that,” Malone said. “I won't kid you, Ellen. We've got to face up to the facts. If we do what you say—wait for them to bring Bibby back and pick up the money—all three of us stand a good chance of getting shot. That Furia would get a kick out of it. Why should he leave us alive? Even if we didn't see their faces, we've heard their voices and we know their names. Hoods like that must have a record somewhere—I think Furia's served time, he used the word ‘screw,' which is a prison term for ‘guard'—they can probably be identified through the FBI central file in a matter of hours. They can't be that dumb—I'm pretty sure the woman isn't. And they're already in the bag for one murder. No, we can't trust them, Ellen. We've got to take some kind of action. Try
something.
”

Ellen's face had gone the color of skim milk again. “All right then, Loney, you find their hideout the way you said. If you can rescue Bibby we can go off somewhere, hide or something, till those monsters are caught.”

Malone got up and went over to the kitchen sink to look out the window. But he was not seeing the dirt driveway. When he turned around his eyes had come back. “It might not be so tough at that, Ellen. Actually when you think about it we have quite a few leads to where they're holed up. Furia told Hinch to walk there, so how far can it be? And it's likely somewhere across The Pike on the way out of town or they'd have been able to get there without worrying about being stopped at a checkpoint. On top of everything, the little punk mentioned woods and a shack.”

“Balsam Lake,” Ellen breathed.

“That's how it figures to me. If it's a Lake cabin—”

“They must have broken into one of them.”

He shook his head, fighting his way through the mush. “That would be leaving a lot to luck. This wasn't set up that way, Ellen. It's been planned well in advance. I didn't mention it, but John says Tom Howland must have been in on the robbery and they doublecrossed him at the last minute. That would mean previous contacts between the robbers and Howland. That means they've been in town before. Also, the woman sounded familiar to me. I know I've heard her voice, a long time ago, I think. I'm betting she comes from New Bradford. Which could be why they picked it for their robbery in the first place, because she knows the town. Anyway, it all adds up to preparation. If they prepared everything else, they'd prepare a hideout, too. Maybe months ago.”

“A rental?”

“Why not? They could have rented one of the cabins, even used it during the summer. So if the police come nosing around the cabin now, what have they got to be afraid of? Of course, they'd rather nobody knew, but if they can produce a lease—”

“But in November, Loney? Nobody's at the Lake in November.”

“That's not so. A few people from downstate rent cabins by the year—use them for weekends after the summer season. We patrol that Lake road the year round.”

Ellen was considering his argument stubbornly. “I don't know. It sounds too dumb to me. I mean robbing and killing and still planning to hide out for any length of time within walking distance of where they did it. It seems to me that's the last thing they'd do.”