Benny didn’t move. He stood in the street looking at the car farther down. One door was open and a man was waving an arm. “Tapkow! On the double!”
Benny took a deep breath, harsh and long. First he wiped his hands on his pants, then he reached up and pulled his hat down firmly until it was square on his head. Then he moved and stood on the curb.
When the car backed up he waited till the rear door was exactly in front of him. They opened the door for him and closed it after he was in. The girl wasn’t giggling any more.
Chapter Eight
“You’ll need some clothes,” Alverato said.
Benny finished his drink. “Yeah,” he said.
“Here’s two thousand on account. That should hold you till Florida.”
“Sure.”
They didn’t say anything for a while. Alverato paced around the office. He was licking his lips. “You sure about the schedule, Tapkow? No slip-ups?”
“I made it up, didn’t I?”
“Anyway, go over it once more. Five days from now-”
“You have your men in St. Petersburg. Corner of Orangewood and Ninth. I don’t know when I’ll get there, so have them stand by all day, starting at nine A.M. I’ll deliver. If anything goes wrong on my end, I’ll call you. Here at the club during the next two days, at the Florida place after that.”
“O.K. I guess that’s it for now. Have a drink for the road?”
Benny had a drink for the road. Then he left. He went to the parking lot of the club and found the gray Cadillac he was going to use for the trip. He gunned the motor a few times and took off.
When he got downtown he stopped the car at a hotel, told the doorman to have it parked, and took a room for the night. It cost twenty-five dollars and he paid in advance. Then he walked into the haberdashery in the lobby, bought two suits, three jackets, four pairs of slacks, and the rest of the stuff from the skin out. Then he went upstairs.
He took a shower and had a drink, and then his clothes came. He put on one of the suits and went down to the dining room. After his meal he had another drink and then he went to bed. He slept till nine in the morning. At eleven he was driving down a highway south of the city.
Vanmeer College lay in the small wooded hills that looked like a picture in a travel folder. Benny stopped in Portville, twenty miles from the college, and walked into a drugstore. He dialed long-distance and got the college.
“This is Mr. Pendleton’s chauffeur,” he said. “We left a message for Miss Patricia Pendleton a few days ago but she hasn’t answered. May I speak to her now?”
“I’m afraid that isn’t possible, sir. She’s attending Spring Convocation and won’t be available until after two. Would you care to call again?”
“No, thank you. Please give her my message, though. Tell her Mr. Pendleton’s chauffeur will be at the college at two-thirty and she should be ready to leave about then. And another thing, miss. You might tell whoever is responsible that Mr. Pendleton is annoyed with this inefficiency of yours. We have called several times and apparently nobody ever told Miss Patricia. See that it doesn’t happen again.”
He hung up and went to the service counter.
“Cup of coffee, black,” he said, and lit a cigarette.
So far, so good. Next he had to pull it off with Pat herself. He didn’t know her too well, but he hoped she’d have enough respect for her old man to follow along with the bogus order. This con job was going to tell the tale. He could end up dead or he could end up with the life that he needed; on top.
Benny jammed his hat down farther and left.
At two-thirty sharp he walked into the Administration Building of Vanmeer and asked for Miss Pendleton. He was wearing a chauffeur’s cap now. They let him wait for a while, phoning and checking, while Benny sat in a straight-backed chair reading a college bulletin. He was dying for a smoke.
“Miss Pendleton says you should pull up to the dorm. It’s McTooley Hall, the one with the spires on the other side of the green.”
Benny drove around the green, his hands slippery on the wheel.
She was standing on the steps of the building, looking for a familiar car and seeing none. Her short blonde hair looked rumpled in the wind, and she was slapping her blowing skirt down with an irritated gesture. Benny saw how brown her legs were.
“Miss Patricia! Over here.”
She waited for him to come out When he stood by the steps below her, she waited for him to speak.
“Did you get our message, Miss Pendleton?”
Her face kept its coldness, like her father’s. “What are you doing here, Tapkow?”
“It’s this way, Miss Patricia. We’ve tried to reach you several times but you never got the message. Mr. Pendleton would like you to join him over the holidays, at the place in Florida. I brought the car to take you down.”
She didn’t answer right away. “I thought you and Turk had a fight.”
“That’s all patched up. Mr. Pendleton was very generous.”
“He would be.” She looked down at him. “Florida? This is awfully short notice.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Pendleton. But your father was very insistent.”
“He would be,” she said again.
They looked at each other for a moment without speaking and then she came down two steps, standing close to him. “You mean you and Turk had a fight with dear Daddy right in the same room and you got away with it?” One side of her mouth flicked upward a little in a half-smile. “How’d you manage that?”
Benny felt tense, but he merely shrugged and smiled. She had come very close and her blowing skirt kept touching his leg.
Then her smile dropped away and she stepped back. “Florida’s fine,” she said. She was talking to the help again. “I’ll call you when the bags are ready.” She went into the building.
Benny took a deep breath and leaned against the car. He took his cap off to wipe the band. Then he jammed it on again. “I’ll call you when the bags are ready-” that high-assed little bitch. To look at, there wasn’t much wrong with her except for those goddamn brassy manners. She didn’t look her twenty-three years.
“Tapkow! You may pick the bags up now.” She was at the window, three flights up. “Ask the girl at the desk for a pass and she’ll show you the way up.”
He got upstairs, his manner as it should be, and gathered up the luggage.
“When you have the bags stowed, wait for me in front of Administration. Some last-minute plans. Well, go on, Tapkow We’re in a hurry, aren’t we?” She ran from the room, leaving him with her bags.
He waited in front of Administration for close to an hour. His hands had started to itch and he rubbed them along the steering wheel with an irritated movement. At first, when he heard the voice, he didn’t move.
“Hi. She’ll be right along.” Somebody opened the rear door of the car.
Benny turned. He felt jumpy.
A youngish woman sat in the back, smoothing her lumpy seersucker suit, which could have fitted any size from bean pole to matron. She had an artless permanent that flattened out her head, rimless glasses, the wrong lipstick. Her legs weren’t bad, not counting those shoes, and even her face wasn’t bad, except that she didn’t know what to do with it.
“You got the wrong car, sister. Beat it.”
She blinked at him, unable to move. “I’m-I’m sorry, but I think-”
“Come on, come on!”
Then she got her strength back and scrambled out of the car. Outside she hesitated, turned, and came to the window in front. “I’m sorry, but isn’t this the Pendleton car?”
“What’s it to you?” Benny was tense, too tense.
“Well-” she tried to smooth things with a queer laugh-”the truth is I was asked. I was invited.”
“What’s this?”
“Didn’t Pat tell you? She’s taking me along. To Florida. I’m Nancy Driscoll.”