Donald Westlake - Bank Shot

“You say something?”

Startled, the lieutenant snapped his head around and stared at the captain. “What? What?”

Captain Deemer frowned at him, then faced the road again. “I thought you said something.”

“No, sir.”

“Well, just keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, sir.”

The lieutenant looked out the side window, though without any hope. They were climbing a hill, and just ahead was the sign for McKay’s Diner. The lieutenant remembered the free cheeseburger he’d been promised, and smiled. He was about to turn his head toward the captain and suggest they stop for a snack when he saw the diner was gone again. “Well, I’ll be darned,” he said.

“What?”

“That diner, sir,” the lieutenant said as they drove by. “They went out of business already.”

“Is that right.” The captain didn’t sound interested.

“Even faster than I thought,” the lieutenant said, looking back at the space where the diner had been.

“We’re looking for a bank, Lieutenant, not a diner.”

“Yes, sir.” The lieutenant faced front, began again to scan the countryside. “I knew they wouldn’t make it,” he said.