“Yes. I pulled out a bill and took another cab back to the kid's room, gave him a bull yarn about I'd gone for my things. I had him drive me to Boston the next day. Poor kid, he probably lost his job, taking off all that time—but he had what he wanted. We spent the night in a flea-bag and I gave him the slip, boarded a plane to Miami. I registered at a tourist house, bought clothes and dyed my hair. I kept reading the out-of-town papers carefully. Still not a peep about the killing. I rested up for a week. I had this money—knew this was what the police had been searching for—but I was afraid to go to the cops; they'd think I'd had it all the time because I hadn't said anything about working at the bar. I figured I'd stay put and later try to make it to Mexico. On the ninth day I was in Miami I saw a car waiting for a light—that evil-faced guy with an eaten-away nose at the wheel. I didn't know if he'd seen me or not. I got panicky.
“I took the bus to Key West and changed my hair color again. I had a plan, a desperate one. I bought a boat and an outboard for $580. I made certain to give the boat yard owner my real name and Josef's address in New York. I told him I wanted to do a lot of fishing. He flirted with me, warned about going out too far. I had him paint ROSE MARIE on the bow and there was a metal plate with the name of his yard in the cockpit. I took the suitcase, some food, extra gas, and asked for fishing tips. I went out to an isolated key, turned the boat over and let it drift away. I figured in a few days the authorities would think I'd drowned and in the meantime I'd be picked up by a yacht or a fishing boat and...”
“And talk the guy into taking you to Cuba,” I finished for her.
She nodded. “There it is, the truth you wanted, Mickey.” Her hand played with the muscles of my right arm, a habit of hers. “I never lied to you. I mean when we started, I put things on the table, face up. I thought I'd leave you the first time you became curious, but you never did—until now. Sure, I hardly expected things to turn out as well as this, that I would fall for you. But I'm so very glad they have!”
Rose kissed me hard and it took a small struggle to get my mind back to my spinning thoughts. Holding her close, I asked, “You think this Josef was an international crook wanted by the cops?”
“I don't know what he was, but I'm sure the police weren't after him. He never seemed afraid of the law.”
“At no time did they accuse you of the killing?”
Rose sat up fast. “How many times do I have to tell you no? Change your record, you're getting me nervous.”
“Honey, when I first picked you up, or you picked me up, I had to feel you were running from the law and I didn't give a damn. What I'm trying to do now is think the way the police must have thought. And we have to talk about this, so don't be touchy.”
“Sorry I flew off the handle, Mickey. All the police and Washington wanted was to know where the money and his letters were. I didn't know he'd left it in my dressing room the night before. I told you, I only went there by chance.”
“The letters must be all that writing you have with the money.”
“I suppose so. I can't read them or.... How did you know about it?”
“Come on, Rose, it was a breeze to open that lock on the old Sea Princess.”
“That was almost a year ago. All this time... you could have taken off with the money any time you wished. You knew I couldn't yell for the cops?”
“I didn't wish.”
She let out a kind of shrill laugh and gave me a big kiss. “You're the boy for me, all right! This only proves how much we love each other.” She gave me another quick kiss, slipped out of bed, and said, “Are you hungry? Can I fix anything?”
“No, but I'll buy a few hours of shut-eye. Tell me one last bit: it seemed the Feds didn't want you to go to a lawyer. They let you go when you mentioned calling one. Since you had nobody to turn to, why didn't you see what a mouthpiece could have done?”
“I told you one lawyer threw me out.”
“But there are others?”
“I was flat, and lawyers mean money, especially if they're expected to fight City Hall. After, when I found the money, I was too scared to stop running. Now you get your sleep. I'm going to take a wash-swim, read some of the papers on the boat.”
I watched her slip into an old red bathing suit, and put on her sneakers, blow me a kiss, and run out. I lay spread-eagled on the hot bed and tried to think. Was Rose handing me a snow job? It seemed that way. Still, the part about missing me, loving me, that had to be reaclass="underline" she'd said it before I'd asked about her past. The trouble was, her story sounded nutty—but so crazy I couldn't see her making it up. And she didn't have to tell me a word, could have let things stand as they were.
I went to the John and through the window screen saw Rose sunning herself on the deck of the Sea Princess, reading a newspaper. I moved the bed and raised a cracked floor board. She had the money in a fireproof metal box under the floor. Naturally I knew the combination. I took out the letters. There were about a hundred pages of ruled paper, the writing precise and stingy. Old Josef sure must have a steady hand. I couldn't make out a word—the pages seemed to be a combination of German and some other language. I could show a single page to Ansel, he knew a few languages, see what the letters were all about. But that was risky. I thumbed through the papers and didn't see any diagrams or figures. I had an idea it might be stuff about an invention, a new atom bomb, or something. I wrapped them back in oilskin and put the box away.
I started a cigar and went back to bed. Weird as the story was, somehow seeing the letters again clinched things. I had to go along with the idea Rose was leveling with me.
I concentrated on my cigar for a few minutes, waiting for my alleged brains to settle down. I told myself, “You have to read between her lines. Maybe she really went for this Josef and became hysterical, thought the whole world was after her. Or if she didn't care for him, she was hysterical because it meant the end of her meal ticket. But what was Josef's real racket? He had to be doing something beside reading foreign papers all day. All this dough. Suppose he had cased and held up a bank? And how come not a line about Josef's death in the papers? But you never know what the cops want to keep under wraps. Could be Josef and this Sauerkraut did the bank job and the cops were afraid Sauerkraut would hole up if the papers had it?
“Hell with all this guessing, let's stick to Rose. They didn't have a thing on her or they wouldn't have released her. She's shocked, broke, bewildered... and then she finds the loot Josef stashed in her dressing room. Rose has only one idea—to run. Suppose the cops do get her— if they're even looking for her now. What could they charge her with? The money was her husband's and he's stiff, so it's hers. And if it was stolen loot, Rose had no way of knowing that. They didn't tell her a thing. Worst could happen to us would be she'd have to return the rest of the money. Little chance of even that. All this was over a year ago, longer, and she's Rose Whalen now, a boat bum. And the trick she pulled in the Keys—wasn't so corny as it sounded— after all these months they might think she drowned, close the case. We're safe. That's the big deal—we're safe.”
I killed my cigar and stood up and flapped the sheets to cool them off. Then I jumped back in the sack and went to sleep.