Hostage For A Hood (14 page)

Cribbins slowly shook his head. "No, not that way. We give her her cut the way we arranged. What she does with it after we split out is her own business. But we said she gets one-tenth and she's going to get it."

Luder coughed and covered his mouth and then spoke, his voice conciliatory. "It doesn't matter, Harry," he said. "If Santino wants to take care of his girl's dough, what the hell—it doesn't matter."

"It matters a lot," Cribbins cut in, his voice cold and hard. "It matters a hell of a lot. Paula is in on this thing. She knows all about it. When we break out of here, I want to leave knowing that she's satisfied. I want to be damned sure everybody's happy when we split out."

He looked across the table at Santino, who slumped in his chair, his face twitching and his lean fingers nervously playing a tattoo on the edge of the table.

"As I say, what she does with it after she gets it is her own business—but I'm going to see that she gets it." Santino began to nod his head slowly. His thin cheeks were drawn in tight and his lips were pale and quivered slightly when he spoke. "What's all this sudden interest in Paula?" he asked. "You wouldn't be tryin' to take over, would you, by any chance?"

Slowly Cribbins drew his hands away from the money. He took a cigarette from the package on the table and deliberately took his time in lighting it. When he spoke his voice was smooth and barely audible.

"Listen, you little ape," he said. "Listen to me closely. You haven't got your chopper now, so just sit still and listen. If I wanted Paula, I'd take her. Any time, from anybody. Get that straight. And get something else straight —I don't happen to want her. I don't want any wet deck from you, or anything else you got."

Santino's right hand darted toward his trouser pocket, but Luder, sitting next to him, moved with amazing speed for an old man.

"All right, kid," he said, his hand grabbing Santino's wrist. "All right, just take it easy. You started this."

"I'll finish it," Santino said.

Cribbins suddenly leaned back in his chair and once more his hands rested easily on the table. Unexpectedly, he laughed.

"For God's sake, kid," he said. "What the hell are we fighting about? To you, the girl's a piece of merchandise. Why kid us about it? You'd let her go for a fifty-dollar bill, so why get serious about it? What you're worried about is the dough that comes with her. Get one thing straight in your head—I don't want that dough. I'm in this thing for my three-tenths and I'm going to be perfectly satisfied with that. The only thing is, we agreed that Paula would get a tenth for her part. I told you I don't give a damn what she does with it. She can keep it or she can turn it over to you, but I want to see that she gets it. I'm just trying to protect all of us. You may think you can control her, but I don't think any dame can be controlled. Not forever. So I don't want her thinking we screwed her on her cut on this job. I don't want her unhappy and talking. If you're as smart as I think you are, you'll handle it the same way."

Luder felt the little man relax and he removed his hand from his wrist.

"It's what we agreed on," he said. "Harry's right. He don't want your dame; he just wants to play it safe."

Santino stared at first one man and then the other. Slowly he leaned back in his chair. He took a cigarette from his pocket and before putting it into his mouth, coughed and then turned his head and spit into the corner.

"Oke," he said. "We won't argue. Do it your way." He looked up at the ceiling then, apparently losing interest in the matter. "Let's divvy it up," he said.

Dividing the money into five piles, Cribbins wrapped up each stack of bills with twine and put a slip on it, marked with their individual initials. Then he drew a long breath and leaned back in his seat.

"Call Paula in," he said.

Santino made no move, so after a moment, Luder got up and went to the front of the house. Cribbins looked down at his watch and saw that it was well after midnight.

Paula followed Luder back into the room and stood by the doorway, her eyes on the bundles of money.

"It's divided up," Cribbins said, "just the way we planned, only we've made the divvy now instead of waiting for Goldman. That's just in case anything should happen; in case we have to take it on the lam."

He reached down and took a suitcase from under the table. "I'm putting the money in here, where it's going to stay until Mitty and Goldman show. If everything goes right, we redivide, the same way, as soon as Goldman makes the exchange. But if anything should happen, grab the pile with your name on it and everyone is on his own." Carefully he tucked the money into the suitcase and closed it as the others watched. "I'm putting the keister in the closet up at the head of the stairs," he said.

He stood up and yawned.

"I want you to spend the night with the dame upstairs, Paula," he said. "We all should be getting some sleep."

Santino looked up then. "Why should she stay with the dame?" he said.

"It's better someone stays with her," Cribbins said. "I don't expect any trouble, but we'll all be sleeping and it's better someone stays in the room with her."

"So maybe I'll stay with her then," Santino said. Paula suddenly laughed.

He was up like lightning and before either Luder or Cribbins could move, he crossed the room and viciously slapped her across the mouth. He was taking a second swing when Cribbins reached him.

"What the hell's the matter with you, anyway," he said. "You seem to want trouble."

Paula had fallen back and she was staring at Santino. "You dirty little bastard," she said.

Cribbins half pushed her, turning her toward the doorway. "Do what I say, Paula," he said. "Go on upstairs and stay with that girl. And for God's sake let's not have any more arguments tonight."

Paula turned wordlessly and left the room.

"That bitch," Santino muttered. "Wait till this is all over. I'll fix her. I'll fix her, but good."

"Aw, let's cut it out and get some sleep," Luder said. "Where do we hit the deck, Harry?"

"It's safer to stay downstairs, in case of trouble," Cribbins said. "There's a couple of cots in the dining room—that's the room next to the living room. I'm going to have a cup of coffee and then hit the deck on the couch in the parlor."

"And about that ... " Santino looked at the suitcase sitting on the edge of the table.

"Take it up and put it into the closet," Cribbins said, nodding at Luder.

Joyce had lain awake listening and when the single chime struck for the second time, she knew that it was one o'clock, Wednesday morning. Joyce turned over on her side —they'd changed the routine and now her wrist was handcuffed to the side rail of the bed so that she was slightly more comfortable and could sleep in more than one position. She used her free hand to pull the thin blanket up higher and closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep. It wasn't more than a minute or two later that Flick growled deep in his throat and then, as she heard the key in the lock of the door, the growl changed to a series of sharp barks.

The door opened and the girl Paula spoke soothingly to the dog. Joyce made no move, pretending sleep.

She heard the door close, and realized that although the girl had entered the room, she had not locked the door behind herself. A moment later she could hear Paula talking softly to the dog. Paula spoke then, turning toward the bed.

"I'm taking him downstairs," she said. "He's going to stay with old man Luder for the night. I'll be back—I'm spending the night up here."

Joyce didn't answer her.

The girl returned within minutes and again when she entered the room, she neither locked the door after herself nor did she turn on the light.

There were soft rustling sounds and Joyce knew that the other girl was stripping off her clothes.

"If you're going to be here," Joyce said, speaking very low, "I wish you would take off this handcuff. My wrist is sore where it's rubbed against it and my arm is cramped. I can't sleep."

Paula sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you nuts?" she said. "Why, they'd murder me if I did. Suppose you tried to get out or something?"

"I'm not going to try anything," Joyce said. "What chance would I have?"

"None," said Paula, flatly. "None at all." She hesitated a moment then and yawned. "All right," she said, "I'll unlock it. But you stay on the inside of the bed and don't try anything. Get smart and you'll get us both killed."

"I won't try anything," Joyce said.

There was a movement and then Paula struck a match. She found the key in the bag she'd carried into the room and a moment later she had the handcuff unlocked. She left it dangling at the side of the bed and seconds later had rounded the bed and crawled under the covers. Joyce sensed that she was completely naked. She was about to say good night when Paula spoke.

"Now go ahead and go to sleep," she said. "An' if you wake up first, wake me so I can get that cuff back on you."

The chimes which struck on the hour and half-hour rang out twice more before Joyce finally fell asleep.

Cribbins had taken the bottle of whisky and poured a shot into the cup of black coffee. He was sipping it when Luder returned to the kitchen. The older man carefully closed the door behind him as Cribbins watched him, an expression of inquiry on his thin, almost esthetic face.

"He's out like a light," Luder said. "The dog is in with him, tied up to the leg of the table."

"He take another one?"

"Yeah. Melted it up in a spoon and gave himself a shot in the arm. It's the third one today that I know about. He was talking pretty crazy for a few minutes and then he just lay back and passed out." Luder pulled a chair over to the table and sat down, pouring himself a cup of black coffee. "I wish he wasn't in on this," he said. "He makes me nervous."

"He makes me nervous, too," Cribbins said. "But what the hell, we needed him. He had the machine gun; he was willing and able to use it. That's one of the troubles with this kind of caper. You always need a guy like Santino."

"You shouldn't needle him about the girl, Harry," Luder said. "You know how he is."

"I know how he is. But don't worry. The girl doesn't mean a thing to him. He's just mean. Mean and crazy."

"That's what worries me—he's crazy."

Cribbins shrugged. "Don't worry," he said. "I can handle a punk like him any day. Anyway, it'll end in another few days. As soon as Mitty and Goldman show."

Luder lifted the coffee and sipped. His eyes were troubled when he spoke. "There's still the girl upstairs," he said. "What do we do about her, Harry?"

For a moment Cribbins stared straight ahead and said nothing. Then he shook his head and spread his hands out, palms up. "She invited herself in on this," he said. "Nobody asked her. Nobody wanted her."

Luder nodded. "Sure," he said. "But that don't change it—she's here. So what are we going to do?"

"There's only one thing to do," Cribbins said.

Luder looked at him for a long minute and then shook his head. He said, "I don't like it at all."

"We've already knocked off one guy," Cribbins said.

"That was different."

Cribbins reached for the bottle and poured a small shot into the coffee cup. "Look," he said. "I don't like it either. But it isn't a case of liking or not liking. It's one of those things. In this business a lot of things happen that you don't like. A lot of innocent people sometimes get in the way and get hurt. It's tough, but that's the way it is."