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I set the last of it in my mind. I’d tell her we were going to go right on out the highway the minute she came out of the last bank. That would ease her mind as to why I insisted on going along instead of letting her do it alone now that we were all lovey-dovey. But then, at the last minute, I’d think of some reason we had to come back here before we shoved. And when I left here I’d be alone. I wondered if she really thought I was stupid enough to go for that Susie Mumble act. When we had all the money out of the banks, together in one bundle in a suitcase, and I was the last person on earth who knew she was still alive?

The first time my eyes closed I’d grow a pair of scissors out of my throat.

But I had her stopped now.

I went to the desk and wrote out the note to the police. I put the note inside an envelope, addressed and stamped it, and slipped it into the inside pocket of the coat I was going to wear. I’d mail it at some outlying box on my way out of town to be sure it wasn’t delivered for at least twelve hours. That would be better than mailing it a day or so later from some other city. That way, they’d know which direction I’d gone.

Twelve hours would do.

If you had $120,000 in your pocket and were no longer being sought for murder, twelve hours’ start was fair enough.

When we came back to the apartment all I had to do was take all her clothes, including the ones she had on, and throw them down the garbage chute, and leave her. She wouldn’t be likely to go anywhere naked. She’d still be here when the police showed up to collect her.

Of course she would scream her head off and give them, a good description and tell them who I was, but they had practically all that already. And the big heat would be off. Even if they caught me, they couldn’t lean very hard. Not like murder.

My nerves were so tight now they were singing. I couldn’t sit still at all. It was eleven. It was eleven-fifteen. I had to fight myself to get my eyes off the clock long enough to give it a chance to move. Every time I heard the elevator stop I would stand there for an eternity, waiting for the knock on the door.

Then I remembered that when she came back she would have to knock on the door to get in. I wondered if I would be able to open it.

She came. It was ten minutes of twelve, and somehow I got the door open.

They’d done a job on her hair. It was like polished copper rings. She was excited and gurgling, carrying a big hatbox and three other bundles.

“Wait till you see me dressed up,” she said.

“Hurry it up. For God’s sake, hurry.”

She disappeared into the bedroom. I waited, feeling my insides tie up in knots. Being so near the end of it made it terrible.

Ten minutes later she came out, walked past me into the center of the room without saying a word, and turned slowly, like a model.

She was Susie, all right. And Susie was a confection, with frosting.

The big floppy picture hat was perched on the side of her head as if it had been nailed to the shining curls. She had on just a shade too much lipstick across a mouth just a shade too wide. The flowery summer dress was short-sleeved and it snuggled lovingly against Susie’s natural resources and scenic high points as if it couldn’t bear to be torn away. The white shoes were only straps and three-inch heels, and the nylons were ultrasheer with elaborate clocks. She was wearing long white gloves, which showed up the tan of her arms.

Susie was right off the barracks wall.

“Well,” she asked coyly, “how do you like your creation?”

“Brother!” I said. Then time came running back and fell in on me again. “Look, I can drool later. Let’s get going.”

“All right,” she said. Then she glanced quickly at my face. “Lee! You haven’t shaved.”

I’d forgotten that. I’d meant to after that shower, but it had slipped my mind. That was what pressure could do. “Well, the hell with it. We haven’t got time.”

Then I put a hand up to my face, remembering. I not only hadn’t shaved. I hadn’t shaved for three days.

I cursed. But there was no use just asking people to stare at me. I ran into the bathroom, yanking off the shirt and tie. While I lathered and scraped I heard her rustling around in the bedroom.

I came out. She was waiting.

“I’ll need something to put the money in,” she said. “There’s a lot of it. Physically, I mean.”

“We’ll stop somewhere and buy a briefcase,” I said impatiently. “No, wait. How about that overnight bag of yours?”

“Certainly. I hadn’t thought of that. It’ll do nicely, and I’m not taking the old clothes anyway.” She went into the bedroom and came out carrying the bag.

I put on the coat, which had been hanging on the back

of a chair.

We were ready.

“All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

When we stepped out onto the street I could feel the skin along my back draw up hard and tight with chill. But by the time we had casually walked the block to the car and got in, it wasn’t so bad. I took the sunglasses out of the glove compartment and put them on.

I drove slowly. Traffic was heavy. It was a hot, still day, and I could feel myself sweating beneath the coat.

I watched the traffic lights. I watched the other cars. If we had an accident now...

But we didn’t. Nothing happened. Once a squad car pulled up alongside us in the other lane and I could feel my nerves knot up, but the two cops paid no attention to us. They went on past and turned the corner.

We were downtown now, in the thick of traffic. I couldn’t turn left into Avalon, where the Seaboard Bank and Trust and the Third National were, so I had to go around the block.

The first time through there wasn’t a parking place anywhere in the two blocks between the banks. Next time our luck was better. I found one just a half block beyond the Seaboard. There was a half hour on the meter.

I took out the first two keys and handed them to her. “I’ll wait right here while you make both of them. After you come out of the Seaboard, walk on down to the Third National. When you’re finished there, walk back this way and stand diagonally across on the corner up there. I’ll see you. I can turn left there, so I’ll pick you up and we’ll be headed for the Merchants Trust.”

She smiled, crinkling up her eyes. “Watch Susie’s walk,” she said. She was as cool as a mint bed.

She got out, carrying the little suitcase.

I watched her. I saw her cross the street behind me. She went up the steps into the bank.

I waited.

My nerves crawled. It was almost physically impossible to sit still. I lit cigarettes. I threw them out after two puffs. I pretended to be looking for something in the glove compartment, to keep my face down. Another patrol car went slowly past in the traffic. It was a black shark, cruising, deadly, not quite noticing, easing past, gone. I unclenched my hands.

It was hot. I became aware that I was counting. I didn’t know what I was counting; I was just saying numbers. I tried to follow her in my mind. Where was she now? She had to go through the bank to the rear, down the steps, through the massive doorway. She signed the card, she gave her key to an attendant in the shiny corridors between walls of steel honeycomb. Now she was going into one of the booths, closing the door, sliding the lid off the box, transferring the money to the overnight bag, coming out....

Up the steps, through the bank, out the doorway, down the steps outside....

I stared into the rear-view mirror.