Ed McBain: The House That Jack Built

“We think somebody’s casin’ the house for a hit,” Charlie said.

“Pretty much what we sep’ately come to conclude,” Nick said.

They even sounded like twins.

“Have you talked to the other two?” Warren asked.

“Yeah, they ain’t seen nothin’ ‘spicious. This is just today we got all this activity.”

“This car goin’ by, two men in it.”

“Driver dressed all in black.”

“The other one with red hair.”

“When was this?”

“On my shift,” Charlie said, “the car first come by around ten o’clock, musta been.”

“What kind of car?”

“Blue Honda Civic.”

“Florida plates?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Rental?”

“Nope. You gettin’ ahead of me. Chambers. You want to hear what you payin’ for or you want to run off at the mouth?”

Knock all your fucking pearly white teeth out of your mouth, Warren thought.

“Sure, go ahead,” he said.

“Made a pass at the house, drove off in the rain, pulled in the church driveway down the road, made a U-turn in it, come on up past the house again. Made a slower pass this time, checkin’ it out, casin’ it real careful.”

“This was about what time now? Ten after ten? Ten-fifteen?”

“In there. ”

“Did the car stop?”

“Nope. Just drifted on by, slow and easy, both of them all eyes.”

“Where were you?”

“Inside the house.”

He saw Warren’s expression.

“Anything wrong with that?”

“Not if it doesn’t bother you.”

“It’s where I been settin’, too,” Nick said. “On my shift.”

“Fine. ”

“Anybody gives us static, we show the potsie, tell ‘em Calusa ED. planted us. ”

“Fine by me,” Warren said.

“ ‘Cause you looked a little troubled by it,” Charlie said.

“No, no.”

“I mean, you want us to see anybody comes in that house, best way to do it is to be inside the house our ownselves, ain’t that right?”

“Seems like the best way to me,” Warren said.

Break your fucking redneck nose in six places, he thought.

“So this was around ten, ten-fifteen,” he said, “when the car made a second pass.”

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “In there.”

“And you were where inside the house?”

“Upstairs bedroom. You get a good view of the road and also the beach if you change windows every now and then. On’y problem is there’s no air conditioning, and it gets hot as hell up there.”

“Even with this friggin’ rain,” Nick said.

Warren had noticed that redneck law-enforcement officers rarely used hard-core profanity. Redneck law-enforcement officers would shoot you as soon as look at you, but they always tiptoed politely around obscenity.

“When’s the next time the car came by?” Warren asked.

“Around twenty of twelve,” Charlie said. “Not only come by , but parked across the street.”

“Sat there how long?” Warren asked.

“Still there when I come to relieve,” Nick said. “Twelve noon.”

“Uh-oh,” Warren said.

“No, no,” Nick said.

“I knew what was happenin’,” Charlie said. “I was watchin’ the whole action from the upstairs window.”

Warren was still worried.

“We ain’t amateurs,” Charlie said, reading his face.

“I hope not,” Warren said. “But what I see right now is two people casin’ a house where one guy is staring down at them from an upstairs window and a second guy is about to walk in the front door.”

“Nobody saw me at the window,” Charlie said.

“And I spotted the car right off,” Nick said. “I cruised on by, mindin’ my own business.”

“Did they keep sitting there?”

“All day long,” Charlie said.

“And you’re telling me they didn’t know you were in that house?”

“That’s what I’m telling you. Nobody made me.”

“What’d you do, Nick? Keep driving back and forth till they made the car, too?”

“I tole you nobody made me,” Charlie said angrily.

“Me, neither,” Nick said. “I never even went by the house after that first pass. I parked up at Pelican Reef, walked up the beach, and went in the house by the back door. Relieved Charlie must’ve been about twenty to one.”

“Was the Honda still parked there?”

“Still there.”

“What time did it leave?”

“Bit after five o’clock.”

“The two of them sat watching the house all that time, huh?”

“Watching it, yeah,” Nick said.

“Fiddling with maps, like they were trying to figure out where in hell they were,” Charlie said, “but watching the house.”

“Why do you figure they watched it for such a long time?” Warren asked.

“Not ‘cause they made either of us,” Charlie said, “if that’s what you’re suggestin’.”

“My guess is they were clockin’ traffic,” Nick said. “Tryna figger out who’s goin’ in and out of the house at what times. On’y the house is empty, so what they got was no traffic at all.”

“Unless they spotted you going in from the beach side.”

“No, they were in the car when Nick relieved me,” Charlie said. “You beginnin’ to irritate me, Chambers. You don’t think we can do this friggin’ sissy job, then get yourself somebody else. Ain’t many people I know’d be willin’ to sit in a empty house all day for a shitty ten bucks an hour.”

“A shitty ten bucks, huh?” Warren said.

“I get fifteen when I supervise traffic up the country club,” Charlie said. “When they havin’ a dance up there.”

“How many times a week do you do that?” Warren said.

“Well…”

“Well, my ass ,” Warren said. “You’re getting sixty bucks a day here, seven days a week, which where I come from is four-twenty a week, which is probably more than you’re making on the force. Moonlighting never paid so good, and you know it.”

“Well, maybe that’s true,” Charlie said. “But that don’t mean we have to take no shit about bein’ made by two hippie assholes in a Honda. We ain’t amateurs. Chambers. If you thought we was amateurs, you shouldn’ta hired us.”

“Well, I did hire you.”

“So then get off our backs, huh?” Nick said. “We doin’ the job, man.”

There was a long silence.

“You think we can maybe get another beer here?” Charlie said.

Warren signaled for the waitress to bring another round. The beers came some five minutes later. The waitress was a dark-haired girl wearing a very short mini. When she left the table, Charlie said, “Like to get me a little bit of that, man.”

“Slide my hand right up that leg of hers,” Nick said.

“Right under that skirt,” Charlie said.

“Find somethin’ real sweet under that skirt,” Nick said, and licked his lips.

“Why’d you call them hippies?” Warren said.

“We talkin’ pussy here, he’s talkin’ hippies,” Charlie said, and shook his head. “Muss be somethin’ wrong with the man.”

Warren guessed he’d been accepted as one of the gang. A redneck didn’t discuss white pussy with a black man unless he thought they were good ole buddies. Either that, or the black man was being set up for a kick in the balls. Warren didn’t think this was the old Let’s-Walk-the-Nigger-Round-the-Block ploy. He suspected his little lecture about the hourly wage had turned them around. Told them he knew he was paying top dollar and expected top-dollar work in return. Touched on their sense of pride. Maybe they weren’t amateurs, after all.

“Why hippies?” he asked again.

“The one dressed in black looked like he’d been sleepin’ in his clothes for a month,” Charlie said. “Had a earring in his left ear. Long black hair. Forty years old, a total friggin’ hippie asshole.”