Bank Shot

“Yes, sir.”

The captain leaned back and brooded at Lieutenant Hepplewhite. “A hill,” he said, as though hills were in themselves an insult.

“Yes, sir.”

“A mobile headquarters, and I can’t contact anybody unless I stand still on a hilltop. You call that mobile?”

Lieutenant Hepplewhite looked tortured as he tried to figure out whether the proper response was yes, sir or no, sir.

Neither was needed. Captain Deemer faced front again and said, “You found a hill yet?”

“I believe there’s one up ahead, sir,” said the driver. “Hard to tell in this rain.”

“I hate rain,” said the captain. He glowered out at it, and no one spoke as the mobile headquarters started up the long gradient of the hill. The radio spackled and fizzed, the windshield wipers swish-clicked, the rain drummed on the car top, and the captain’s right eyelid fluttered soundlessly.

“Shall I pull in by the diner, sir?”

The captain stared at the back of the driver’s head and considered leaning forward and biting him through the neck. “Yes,” he said.

“I guess the insurance company paid off,” the radio man said.

The captain frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“The diner, sir,” the radio man said. “They had a bad fire last year, burned to the ground.”

“Well, it’s back now,” Lieutenant Hepplewhite said.

“Doesn’t look open,” the radio man said.

The captain wasn’t feeling kindly toward irrelevancies. “We’re not here to talk about the diner,” he said. “We’re here to contact headquarters.”

“Yes, sir,” everybody said.

The diner was set back from the road, fronted by a gravel parking lot, with a large sign out by the road, reading, MCKAY’S DINER. The driver parked near this sign, and the radio man went to work on contacting headquarters. After a minute, the static receded and a ti

“Good,” said the captain. “Tell them where we are. Where the hell are we?”

“McKay’s Diner, sir.”

The captain lowered his head, as though he might charge. “When I say where are we,” he said, “I do not want an answer I can read off a sign right outside the goddam window. When I say where are we, I want to know —”

“Near Sagaponack, sir,” the radio man said.

“Near Sagaponack.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell headquarters that.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Find out what’s going on, if anything.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Tell them we’ll be here until further notice.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Until the bank is found, or the rain stops, or I go berserk.”

The radio man blinked. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Whichever comes first.”

“Yes, sir.”

The captain turned to Lieutenant Hepplewhite, who was looking very pale. “Even as a child I hated rain,” the captain said. “I used to have a Popeye doll that you could punch and it would fall over and come back up again. It was as tall as I was, with a weighted bottom. Rainy days, I used to take that Popeye doll down in the basement and kick the shit out of it.”

“Yes, sir,” said the lieutenant.

The captain’s eyelid drooped. “I’m getting tired of hearing ‘Yes, sir’ all the time,” he said.

“Yessss,” said the lieutenant.

The radio man said, “Sir?”

The captain turned his heavy head.

“Sir,” the radio man said, “I told headquarters our position, and they said there’s nothing to report.”

“Of course,” said the captain.

“They say the search is being hampered by the rain.”

The captain squinted. “They took the trouble to point that out, did they?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Uh,” said Lieutenant Hepplewhite warningly. The captain looked at him. “Lieutenant?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“What time is it, Lieutenant?”

“Ten-fifteen, sir.”

“I’m hungry.” The captain looked past the lieutenant at the diner. “Why don’t you go get us coffee and Danish, Lieutenant? My treat.”

“There’s a sign in the window says they’re closed, sir.”

The radio man said, “Probably not ready to open yet after the fire. Their other place got burned right to the ground.”

“Lieutenant,” said the captain, “go over there and knock on the door and see if there’s anybody in there. If there is, ask them if they can open up just enough to give us coffee and Danish.”

“Yes, sir,” said the lieutenant. Then, hurriedly: “I mean, uh —”

“And if not coffee and Danish,” said the captain, “then whatever they can do for us we’ll appreciate. Will you tell them that, Lieutenant?”

“Uh … I will, sir.”

“Thank you,” said the captain and leaned back in the corner to brood out the window at the rain.

The lieutenant got out of the car and was immediately drenched right through his uniform raincoat. It was really pouring, really and truly coming down like nobody’s business. Lieutenant Hepplewhite slogged through puddles toward the diner, noting just how closed it looked. Besides the hand-lettered CLOSED sign in one window, there was the absence of any lights in there.

The whole structure had an aura about it of being not yet ready to do business. Charred and blackened remnants of the previous diner were all around the new one, not yet cleared away. The new one was still on its wheels, with no skirting of any kind; looking through the underneath space, Lieutenant Hepplewhite could see the wheels of a car and a truck parked behind the diner, the only indication that there might be somebody around here after all.

What struck the lieutenant most about this diner was an atmosphere of failure all around it. It was the kind of small business you looked at, and you knew at once they’d go bankrupt within six months. Partly, of course, it was the rain and the general gloom of the day that did that, and partly it was the new diner sitting on the ashes of the old; but it was also the windows. They were too small. People like a diner with big windows, the lieutenant thought, so they can look out and watch the traffic.

There were two doors in the front of the diner, but no steps up to either one. The lieutenant splashed along to the nearest and knocked on it and anticipated no answer at all. In fact, he was just about to turn away when the door did open slightly and a thin middle-aged woman stood looking out and down at him. She had a cigarette in the corner of her mouth, which waggled as she said, “What do you want?”

“We were wondering,” the lieutenant said, “if we could get some coffee and Danish.” He had to put his head back and look up when talking to her, which was uncomfortable under the circumstances. The bill of his cap had protected his face from the rain, but now he was practically drowning in it.

“We’re closed,” the woman said.

Another woman appeared, saying, “What is it, Gertrude?” This one was shorter and wore a neck brace and looked irritable.

“He wanted coffee and Danish,” Gertrude said. “I told him we were closed.”

“We are closed,” the other woman said.

“Well, we’re police officers,” the lieutenant started.

“I know,” said Gertrude. “I could tell by your hat.”

“And your car,” said the other woman. “It says ‘Police’ on the side.”

The lieutenant turned his head and looked at the patrol car, even though he already knew what it said on its side. He quickly looked back and said, “Well, we’re on duty here, and we were wondering if you could maybe sell us some coffee and Danish even if you aren’t one hundred percent open.” He tried a wi

“We don’t have any Danish,” the irritable woman in the neck brace said.

Gertrude, being more kindly, said, “I’d like to help you out, but the fact is, we don’t have any electricity yet. Nothing’s hooked up at all. We just got here. I’d like a cup of coffee myself.”

“It’s getting damn cold in here,” said the irritable woman, “with that door open.”