William McGivern - The Seven File

“I told you wearing hair shirts isn’t going to help.” Duke was smiling, seemingly amused at Grant’s anger. “You got to relax, Eddie. No sense in making it hard for ourselves.”

“We’ll relax when this is over. I planned this job for six months and you’re not going to louse it up.”

“We wouldn’t have the kid if it weren’t for me,” Duke said. “Remember that.”

“Sure, and we wouldn’t have the nurse if it weren’t for you,” Grant yelled. “You woke her up and brought her along. You put all our necks on the block. Isn’t that the way it was?”

Duke was still smiling, but his eyes had become wary. “It’s your story, finish it.”

Grant knew he had made a dangerous mistake, but he was too furious to care; unless Duke were kept in line they might pay for his foolishness with their lives. “You’re going to do what I tell you,” he said, in a low. trembling voice. “I’m not going to the chair because you want a certain kind of booze to drink.” Grant’s anger was almost choking him; Duke seemed determined to behave recklessly stupid. Crazy... Belle had seen it. And his own brother knew it. “Get this,” Grant said, staring at him. “We’re staking our lives against two hundred thousand bucks. We’re not after a prize for catching a goddam fish. This is the biggest job you’ve ever been cut into. And I’m running it. Don’t ever get any different idea.”

“Sure, you’re the boss,” Duke said. “The big wheel. So let’s don’t argue about that any more.” He was smiling faintly, but Hank could see the pressure building in him; his eyes were sharp, and his big body was ominously passive and slack. “But what’s all this about catching fish?” he said gently.

“What do you mean?”

“You said we weren’t after a prize for catching fish. Why did you bring that up?”

It had slipped out, Grant realized; he didn’t remember saying it. He made an irritable gesture with his hand. “I forget. It’s not important.”

“We were talking about that muskie Duke caught,” Hank said casually. “It was probably on your mind.”

“Don’t worry about what’s on my mind.”

Duke looked sharply from Grant to his brother. “How come you told them about the muskie?”

“I forget,” Hand said, smiling faintly. “We were talking about you, and something must have reminded me of it.”

“Talking about me?” Duke turned back to Grant, his eyes puzzled and irritable. “That’s great. I’m out getting us something decent to eat and you haven’t anything better to do than sit around bum-rapping me. Yeah, great.”

“Don’t get excited,” Grant said. “It was just passing the time.”

“I was explaining to Grant that you’re really pretty smart,” Hank said.

“He’s a cute one,” Grant said to Duke.

“You need him to tell you I’m smart, eh?”

“I tell you it wasn’t anything.”

“Okay, okay,” Duke said, looking at his brother. “You want trouble, eh? Making up stories about your big, bad brother.”

“Making up stories? Ed Daley would like that.”

“I ran him down by accident. Everybody knows that.”

“Everybody knows that’s your story,” Hank said.

“You’ve taken your lumps.” Duke said, frowning slightly. “I’d think you’d be tired of it. But keep yapping and you’ll get hurt again.”

“Don’t waste time scaring me,” Hank said. “You can’t worry a man in a death cell by telling him he can’t have cream in his coffee. Do what the hell you want, Duke.”

Duke stared at him, still frowning; for an instant he seemed honestly interested in his brother. “We don’t have to kill you,” he said slowly. “Don’t you realize that? When this job is over we’ll turn you loose. You can’t go to the cops. You’re in this deal, kid. Get used to that idea. Relax and take it easy.”

“Let’s everybody relax,” Belle said in an uneasy little voice. “We’ve got a nice lunch today. Isn’t that something to be grateful for?”

Duke looked at her and shook his head slowly. “Don’t ever change. Promise me that.”

“You’re still worrying about your whiskey. I could go to town, if that’s all you want. Would that be okay, Eddie?”

Grant rubbed his forehead, and then he said, “Judas Priest!” in a harsh, explosive voice.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means nobody’s going to town,” Grant said, staring at her. “What in hell do you think we’re talking about? Don’t you ever listen, for Christ’s sake?”

“Sure, I listen. You didn’t want Duke to go—” She stopped and wet her lips. “But he — he’s conspicuous.”

“And you think you’re the type who’s just lost in a crowd?” Grant’s eyes were mean and ugly as they moved slowly down to her high-heeled sandals, then back up to her shining blonde hair. “Well, think again. This is a nice quiet little town. Full of nice quiet little people. They’d think you were in town trying to bring back burlesque.”

A painful flush of color had come up in Belle’s cheeks. “I look respectable,” she said. “I’ve been in towns like this before. Lots of times. And I never attracted a crowd. People didn’t stop on the sidewalks and stare at me.” Her voice was trembling slightly. “I’ve got a son who’d like to hear you talking this way. It would be nice for him. wouldn’t it?”

“All right, all right,” Grant said. “Let’s knock it off. Get with lunch, okay?”

Belle hurried into the kitchen, fighting back her tears. She felt as if her whole body had been assaulted and bruised — he could hurt her without even trying to, she thought bitterly. The fact that he didn’t try to made it worse. All men know that trick. They were born knowing it.

She took the bottle of rum from the pantry and poured herself a long drink. Why shouldn’t I? she thought. He doesn’t care what I do. I’m like a dumb animal as far as he’s concerned. A pat on the head, a kick in the ribs — neither gesture had any feeling in it.

Duke limped into the kitchen a little later and she raised her glass to him. “First today.”

He didn’t bother to answer her. Filling a tumbler with rum, he turned back into the living room. “Laughing boy,” Belle muttered, and raised her glass.

As Duke settled himself into a chair the stairway door opened and the nurse stepped into the room. “How’s the kid?” he said.

“She’s asleep, but she feels quite cool. I’m just going to heat her bottle.”

“I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

“Yes, she seems better.” She waited for him to continue, but he was obviously bored with the subject; picking up a magazine, he began to leaf through it, occasionally reading a title aloud in a flat, listless voice. The nurse turned, met Hank’s eyes briefly and walked into the kitchen.

“This’ll send you,” Duke said. “How To Keep Your Wife’s Love After Forty. You need a little help in that department, Eddie?”

Hank stood up and Grant said, “Where are you going?”

“I thought I’d shave. Okay?”

“Yeah — go ahead.”

As Hank started up the stairs Duke said, “There’s the old man’s training for you. Clean minds in clean bodies.”

“He sounds real interesting,” Grant said.

Duke dropped the magazine on the floor and took another long swallow from his drink. He felt the rum burning in his stomach, and then the sensuous heat moving slowly and pleasurably downward, warming his belly and his loins.

“We’ll get the news from Creasy in a few hours,” Grant said. He sat forward on the edge of the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. “We’ll know if the Bradleys have the dough. After that there’s nothing but the pickup.”