“Hmmm.”
She went into the bathroom.
As Johnny poured coffee into a saucepan, he thought about her.
A whore! So what? Lots of women were whores, trading their bodies
not for money but for presents, jewels, furs . . . whatever they
yearned for. She was his woman, he told himself. Who cares about
anyone’s past if there is love and Johnny knew he was in love with
her. He wasn’t much anyway, but he would be! $186,000 made any
man something!
He could feel it was going to be hot and he thought with dismay
that from now on there would be no swimming, no fishing. He would
have to stay out of sight.
He poured the hot coffee into a cup and as he was about to pour
more coffee into a second cup, he heard a car drive up.
Moving swiftly, he put the second cup away, then darted into his
bedroom, snatched up his gun, pulled the sheet up over the bed,
then darted into Scott’s bedroom, the window of which gave a view
onto the jetty.
He saw a dusty Lincoln parked at the foot of the jetty and from it
spilled two men: one big, like an ape, the other small, white-faced
with staring eyes. They both wore black suits, white shirts and white
ties. They stood looking around, then they started across the jetty,
taking their time as Johnny moved into the passage.
Freda, still in her shortie nightdress, was standing in the
bathroom door.
“Trouble,” Johnny said softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”
“No! Get out of sight!” Freda whispered fiercely. “I’ll take care of
it! Get in the closet and wait!”
She caught hold of his arm and shoved him towards the big
closet. For a moment he hesitated, then when a knock sounded on
the door, he slid into the closet and shut the door.
Freda ran into her bedroom, snatched up a wrap and struggled
into it as the knock came again.
She braced herself, then went to the door and opened it. When
she saw Bernie and Clive, she felt a rush of cold blood up her spine.
But she kept control of herself.
“What do you want?”
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Bernie, smelling of sweat, his moronic grin terrifying, moved
forward, forcing her back.
“You, dolly-bird. We want to talk to you about Johnny.”
But it was the other one Freda feared: the little, white-faced
horror with his evil, sadistic eyes who followed behind the ape man.
“He’s gone,” she said.
They were now in the living-room and she had retreated to the
far wall.
“Tell us about him, dolly-bird. We’re looking for him,” Bernie
said.
“He left yesterday.”
“That’s what we heard.” Bernie shuffled forward and snatched
off her wrap leaving her in her shortie nightdress. “Yeah, we heard
that,” then he slapped her across her face so violently she bounced
back against the wall and then sprawled on the floor. He reached
down and tore off her nightdress, “but we don’t believe it, dolly-bird.
Feed us another story.”
She lay naked at his feet, staring up at him.
“He went to Miami yesterday morning early,” she said, her voice
steady. “Get out of here, you apes!”
Bernie sniggered.
“Go ahead, Clive, work on her,” he said. “When you’re tired, I’ll
take over.”
In the closet, Johnny listened. He quietly opened the closet door,
gun in hand and moved into the passage. He was wearing only
pyjama trousers, his feet were bare and he made no sound as he
entered the living-room.
Clive had caught hold of Freda and had hauled her to her feet. He
was setting himself to slap her as Johnny killed him.
The bang of the gun made Freda scream. She hid her face in her
hands and dropped to her knees.
Clive, shot through the back of his head, heaved forward and fell.
Snarling, Bernie, groping for his gun, spun around to face Johnny
who shot him through the face. The big man crashed down on top of
Clive, his right arm catching Freda on the back of her neck as he fell.
She sprawled on her face, then twisted and half sat up, staring at the
soundless scream.
Dropping his gun, Johnny went to her, got her to her feet and
half carried her, half dragged her into her bedroom: He laid her
gently on the bed.
“Stay here. Don’t think about a thing.”
He ran into his room and struggled into his shirt and trousers. He
slid his feet into his shoes, then he returned to the living-room.
Freda lay still, her eyes closed. She struggled with hard, dry,
choking sobs. It seemed to her she lay there for a long time. She
couldn’t move. The horror of seeing the two men shot dead
paralyzed her.
The sun was climbing and it came through the open window,
hurting her eyes. She put her arm across her face, moaning.
She lay there, not caring, wanting only to believe this was a
horrible nightmare.
Then a hand touched her gently.
“Let’s go, baby,” Johnny said. “Come on. This is where we duck
out.”
She opened her eyes and stared up at him.
“Go . . . where?”
“We have their car. It’s our chance. We’ve got to go!”
He hauled her off the bed and she leaned against him.
“What’s happened . . . those men?”
“Forget them. They’re in the lake. Get dressed. We’ve got to
hurry . . . every minute is important.” She stood in a daze, staring at
him.
“Come on, baby!” His voice sharpened. “Get dressed! You’ve got
to pack! Hurry!”
167
“You killed them! I can’t go with you! You killed them!”
“You can’t not go with me,” Johnny said. “Get dressed!”
Those words made an impact. She shuddered, then making an
effort, she opened her closet and took from it the man’s shirt and
the stretch pants. Her closet was pathetically bare: a cheap cotton
dress, a pair of worn Levis, a pair of broken-down shoes.
She pulled on her panties and the stretch pants. “You want to
take any of this other junk?”
“No.”
“Come on.” He waited until she had put on the shirt and run a
comb through her hair, then he led her into the living-room. “You’ve
got to write a letter to Ed. Got any writing paper?”
Shaking, she sat at the table.
“In that drawer.”
He found a block of cheap notepaper and an envelope. He found
a biro.
“Write this: Dear Ed. I’m sick of it here. I’m going with Johnny.
We love each other, Freda.”
Somehow she wrote the note, her hand shaking. Johnny put it in
the envelope and laid it on the table.
“Let’s go!”
He picked up his suitcase and, taking her by her arm, he hurried
her across the jetty to the Lincoln.
As he started the motor, he looked at his strap watch. The time
was o6.4o. At best, he thought, they had a three hour start before
Luigi would begin to w
onder where the two apes had got to. Then he
would investigate, phone, and the organization would swing into
action.
In a car like this you could go some way in three hours.
Driving steadily, with Freda still in shock at his side, he headed
for the freeway.
TEN
They had been driving for over an hour in silence. Johnny kept
the car moving but he was careful to keep just under the speed limit.
He knew it would be a disaster for both of them if they were stopped
by a speed cop. He longed to let the powerful car out and put more
mileage behind him, but he restrained him-self.
He by-passed Daytona Beach, anxious not to get snarled up in
any heavy traffic, and kept on up highway 1, heading north. As he
drove, his mind was active. From time to time, he glanced at Freda
who was staring through the windshield, her face white, her eyes
blank. He could see the shock was still hitting her. Well, now they
were out in the open, he thought and in a stolen car. He was safe
car.
All kinds of problems crowded in on him, but he refused to be
panicked. They now knew he was wearing a beard so that had to
come off. They knew he wore khaki drill. He would have to change
his clothes. Salvadore would give them a description of Freda. He
looked at her blonde, silky hair. That was like a beacon to anyone
hunting for them. That would have to be fixed.
Suddenly she said, “Where are we going?”
He drew in a deep breath of relief.
“How are you feeling, baby?”
“I’m all right.” Her voice was shaky. “Where are we going?”
“We’re driving north. We have another two hours before they
start wondering. In two hours we’ll be at St. David’s Bay. We’ll stop
there. It’s a vacation town: packed with tourists and cars. We’ll have
to get rid of this car. Don’t worry. Take it easy. Leave it to me.”
“Oh, Johnny, I’m frightened!” She put her hand on his thigh. “Did
you have to kill them?”
“I warned you, baby, this is the Mafia. You kill or get killed,”
Johnny said quietly. “I still think we have a chance. I’ll tell you now:
there’s $186,000 in those bags. I’m telling you because you are now
169
in this mess as much as I am. I’m sorry, but you are and you’ve got to
realize it. There’s still a good chance we can get the money and get
away with it.”
“A hundred and eighty-six thousand!” Her voice shot up. “But,
Johnny, that’s a fortune!”
“That’s it. Well, you know now. It’s a gamble: our lives against
that money. If I get it, we’ll share it. I mean that.”
“So what do we do?”
“When we get to St. David’s Bay, go to a hairdresser and get
them to tint your hair any colour you like, but the word will have
gone out to look for a blonde. I’ll get this beard off. We’ve got to buy
clothes. I’ve got the money. You don’t have to worry about that.
Then we’ve got to ditch this car. We’ll take a Greyhound bus to
Brunswick. There we’ll hole up and wait. We have enough money.
We can wait two months if we have to. Then when my contact in
East City tells me the heat is off, we go collect the money.”
“Do you think we’ll get it?”
“If we don’t, we’re dead,” he said, knowing this was the truth.
It was 09.50 when they drove into St. David’s Bay. Johnny saw a
vast free car park by the beach crammed with cars and caravans.
“This is where we ditch the car.” He drove into the car park. It
took him several minutes to find a space, but he found one. “From
now on we walk.”
He unlocked his suitcase and took out what was left of Sammy’s
money.
“This is how much we have got,” he said and counted the money
while she watched him. “Two thousand, eight hundred and fifty-
seven dollars. I want you to see this, baby. I want you to know that
from now on we are together, partners.” He counted out a thousand
and handed her the bills. “You have this, just in case something
happens to me. Go find a hairdresser and get your hair fixed, then
buy clothes. Don’t spend much. We could have to live on this for
some time. Be careful what you buy: nothing that’ll catch the eye.
We’ll be husband and wife. I’ve been thinking. We two are on
vacation, travelling Greyhound and seeing the country. I’m giving you
the background. We take a room in some little hotel in Brunswick.
You tell them I’ve a bad heart and I have to take it easy. We won’t go
out much. You think it was a mistake for us to come so far. I’m in
need of a rest. We sign in as Mr. and Mrs. Henry Jackson from
Pittsburgh. This is only rough thinking. We’ll polish it later.”
She put the money he had given her in her bag, then she looked
at him.
“While I’m getting my hair fixed, Johnny, do you plan to leave
me?”
This shocked him. For a long moment, he stared at her, then
smiled.
“Ask yourself. It’s only in oneself that one knows trust, baby.”
Closing the suitcase, he got out of the car.
She joined him.
“I’m sorry.” She touched his arm. “I’ve known so many men. I’m
so sick of myself! I don’t know who to trust.”
“If you can’t trust me by now, baby,” he said gently, “then you’re
in real trouble. Come on, let’s go.”
They walked into the town. Although it was early, the tourists
were out in force, heading for the beach. Half-way down the Main
street, Johnny spotted the Greyhound bus station.
“We meet there.” He pointed. “Be as quick as you can. I’ll wait
for you . . . you wait for me. Okay?”
She hated him leaving her.
“Johnny . . . I’m scared to be on my own . . . really scared.”
He smiled at her.
“But, baby, we’re always alone. I’ve been alone all my life and so
have you. Just get your hair fixed and buy some clothes. You’d better
buy a hold-all.” He looked around. “Up there on the left: a Ladies’
hairdressers. Get your hair fixed first.”
“Yes.” She forced a smile. “See you, Johnny.”
“That’s one thing you can be sure of.”
They parted and Johnny went in search of a barber.
171
Luigi was occupied with his Maitre d’hotel, arranging the menu
for the following day when his telephone bell rang. The time was
11.05. He reached for the receiver as he said, “Give ‘em duck. We’ve
got too many ducks in the freezer.” Then into the mouthpiece, he
said, “Who is it?”
“This is Joe!” Massino’s voice was tight with rage. “What’s
happening? I’ve been waiting! What did that whore say?”
Luigi stiffened. He had been so occupied with the routine work of
his restaurant, he had completely forgotten he had sent Bernie and
Clive out to Little Creek.
“Still waiting, Joe. I should hear any minute. The moment I hear
I’ll call you ba
ck.”
“What the hell are those punks doing?” Massino bawled. “Get
me some action!” and he hung up.
Luigi was now worried. He had told those two to see the girl at
o6.00. Five hours ago! He snatched up the receiver. “Get Capello
here!” he barked, cut the connection, then dialled Salvadore’s
number. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “Bernie and Clive were
supposed to see this whore at six this morning. What’s happening?”
“I don’t know.” Salvadore said. “I haven’t seen them. Hold for a
moment.” After a minute or so, he came back on the line. “Just
looked at the houseboat through my glasses. No sign of life.”
“I’m sending Capello. Go with him and find out what’s
happening.” Luigi’s voice was now a snarl. “Call me back pronto.”
An hour later, as Little Creek’s church clock was striking twelve,
Toni arrived at the store in a car Luigi had lent him. Salvadore was
waiting for him.
“What gives?” Salvadore asked.
“I don’t know. We’ve got to get over there and find out.”
They climbed into Salvadore’s boat and headed across the lake
to the houseboat. Toni was first on deck, gun in hand. He was
sweating and he had a hell of a headache from his heavy drinking the
previous evening. Salvadore tied up and joined him. They went
through the deserted houseboat, then Toni saw an envelope lying on
the table. He opened it and read the message.
“Hey! Look at this! That bastard was here all the time! They’ve
gone off together!”
“But where’s Bernie and Clive?” Salvadore looked around, then
knelt, putting his hand on the worn carpet. “Been recently washed.”
The two men looked at each other, then Salvadore went out on deck,
staring into the clear water on the lake. Toni joined him.
“You think he knocked them off?”
“How the hell do I know?” Salvadore went back into the living-
room and shoved the table aside. He found a small patch of dried
blood that Johnny had missed in spite of his careful cleaning up.
“Look.”
Toni peered over his shoulder.
“So he did knock them off,” he said huskily.
“Yeah and he’s taken their car. You’d better talk to Mr. Luigi and
fast.”
Twenty-five minutes later, Toni was reporting to Luigi. Five
minutes later, Luigi was reporting to Massino.
Massino was so incensed he could hardly speak. Finally, he
screamed, “You get nothing from me! I’ll talk to the Big Man! You’re