“That’s right.”
“I couldn’t care less, Parker. He was just a bum I picked up here in town. He was more stupid than I thought and exceeded his orders. That’s over with.”
Parker nodded. “All right,” he said. “See you day after tomorrow.”
“Right.”
PART TWO
1
Parker pumped change into the phone box and listened to it booming. Then he waited.
He was in a phone booth next to a gas station. June sunlight poured down everywhere. Grofield was in his car, a three-year-old black Rambler sedan, parked just down the block; they were on their way over to New York to see about financing, and Parker wanted to make the call now, early, to give Handy time to get there.
The booming was replaced by a ringing sound, and then by a male voice. Parker said, “Arnie LaPointe, please.” You couldn’t get in touch with Handy direct. Like Parker with Joe Sheer, Handy had a middleman.
The voice said, “Speaking.”
“This is Parker. If you see Handy McKay around, ask him to give me a call.”
“I’m not sure I’ll see him.”
“This is a pay phone, I can’t hang around too long.”
“I just don’t know when I’ll see him.”
“When you do, tell him I saw the monk and he’s still mourning.” That was a reference to the last job they’d worked together, so Handy would know it was him.
“If I see him, I’ll tell him. What’s your number there?”
“This is Jersey City. The number’s OL 3-4599.”
“I don’t promise anything.”
“Sure.”
Parker hung up and waited. He pushed open the booth door to get some air, and lit a cigarette. He could see Grofield sitting in the car, relaxed and easy. Grofield was too playful sometimes, but he knew when to cut that out. The operation was shaping up to have good men in it, and with good men in a deal it was tough for the deal to go sour. Not impossible, but tough.
A gas station attendant in blue overalls came over, wiping his hands on an orange rag. He said, “Anything wrong?”
“They’re calling me back.”
“Okay.” He went away again.
Parker finished his cigarette, flicked it out into the street. He leaned against the side of the booth, folded his arms, and waited some more.
He waited fifteen minutes and then the phone rang. He picked it up and said, “Charles Willis here.”
It was Handy McKay’s voice: “What’s the story?”
“Thought you might like to come visit. I got a new place.”
“Social call?”
“We might work a little.”
“Not for me, remember? I retired.”
“You might like the weather here. And there’s thousands of things to see. Maybe twenty thousand.”
“Don’t tempt me. This time I’m retired for good. I got the diner going, and I’m settling down, and everything’s fine.”
“I was looking for company. Open a can or two with me, you know?”
“Yeah?” There was a pause, and he said, “What about Wiss? He’s good company.”
“He’s already coming.”
“Oh, yeah? What do you want, a crowd?”
“Yes.”
“Jesus, now you got my curiosity up. But it’s still no soap. Wait a second, how about Kerwin?”
“That’s an idea. You just don’t want to travel, huh?”
“Not any more. I’m settled down.”
“All right. I’ll drop in sometime.”
“Do that. I’ll fry you an egg.”
“Sure.”
He hung up and left the phone booth and walked down to Grofield’s car. He slid in and said, “McKay’s out. He’s retired.”
“Again?”
“This time he says it’s for good. He suggested Kerwin.”
“I don’t know him.”
“He’s a good man.”
Grofield shrugged. “I’ll take your word for it. Call him.”
“He lives in Brooklyn. I’ll call him from the city, after we see your man. Who is he, by the way?”
“Ormont. Chester Ormont.”
“Four thousand might be steep for him.”
“We’ll see.”
Grofield started the engine, and they drove away from there. They went through the Holland Tunnel into the city, and took the West Side Highway up to 72nd Street, and then crosstown through the park to the East Side. Grofield parked illegally on East 67th Street, between Fifth and Madison, and they walked down the block to the address. It was a fashionable brown-stone, with a doctor’s shingle in the window. They went up the stoop and inside, into the dimness, and there was a nurse in a white uniform at a desk.
She smiled impersonally and said, “Name, please?”
“Grofield. About my back.”
“You’ve been to see the doctor before?”
“Yes.”
“Have a seat, please, the doctor will be with you in just a minute.”
They went into the waiting-room, a large airy room done in Danish modern. Two stuffed matrons sat in opposite corners of the room, like welterweights between rounds. One was reading Fortuneand the other was reading Business Week. Grofield picked up a copy of Timefrom the central table, and he and Parker sat down to wait.
After about five minutes, the nurse appeared and took one of the women away with her. A little while later a whitehaired old man came in on a cane and took the absent woman’s seat and Fortune. Some time after that the other woman was escorted away by the nurse.
They waited about forty minutes, and then the nurse came to the door and said, “Mister Grofield?”
Grofield said, “Come on.” He and Parker followed the nurse out of the waiting-room, down a cream-colored hall, and into an office. There was no one in the office.
The nurse said, “Doctor Ormont will see you in just a minute.” She went away.
They sat in brown leather chairs and waited. They could hear a murmuring from somewhere else on the first floor. Five minutes went by, and then the door opened and a heavy impatient-looking man with pink scrubbed hands came in.
He smiled sourly at them, said, “How are you, Grofield?” and went around behind his desk.
“Just terrible, Doctor,” said Grofield. “I’ve got this terrible pain in my back.”
“Never mind that,” said the doctor. “This office isn’t bugged.”
Grofield burst out laughing. “Doctor, you’re priceless!”
The doctor didn’t get it, and didn’t want it. He looked at Parker and said, “You remind me of somebody.”
Grofield said, “This is Parker, with a face job. Not just the nose, the whole face. What do you think of that?”
“Parker, eh? Who did the job?”
“A doctor out west,” Parker told him. “You wouldn’t know him.”
“He did a good job.” The doctor switched his attention to Grofield. “You’ve got something on, eh?”
“So we have. We need financing.”
“Obviously. This isn’t a social call.”
“Of course not. It’s this pain in my back, it’s killing me.”
Parker said, “Cut it out, Grofield.”
“Right you are.” Grofield sobered, and said, “We need four G’s.”
“Thousand? Four thousand?”
“Right the first time.”
“That’s a hell of a bite.” The doctor frowned, and stared at papers on his desk as though one of them had written on it the answer to a question that had been bothering him for months. “How long?” he asked.
“Couple of weeks. Maybe a month.”
“Anyone else I know in on it?”
“I don’t think so. Just me and Parker.”
“But there’s others in.”
“Oh, sure.”
The doctor considered again, then looked at Parker. “You’re in it?”
Parker nodded. He knew Ormont wasn’t very bright; the only thing to do was wait till he got everything straightened out inside his head.
Ormont said, “When do you need it by?”
Grofield shrugged. “Now. As soon as possible.”
“Tomorrow afternoon, the earliest. The absolute earliest.”