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“Yes.”
“All right, now think a minute. If all that stuff were stacked up in one heap, instead of spread out on shelves, how much space would it take up?”
She gave me a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”
“What I mean is, could you fit it all in the trunk of a car, or would you need something bigger?”
“Oh—I see. Well, of course I don’t really know. I’d imagine if you had a big car with a big trunk compartment, and you didn’t mind stuffing wads of cash in all the fu
“Like, say, a Cadillac?”
“I suppose so. I don’t think I’ve ever looked inside the trunk of a Cadillac.”
“Who do you know that drives a pink Cadillac?”
“I—I’m not sure I know anybody. I don’t really pay much attention to the make of cars. I can’t tell one make from another.”
Neither could I, any more. Fifteen or twenty years ago you could, but nowadays they were all pressed out by what looked like the same cheap stamp mills. I said, “Any large pink car, then. Pink cars aren’t all that common.”
She took a while to think about it and there was no doubt she was giving it full effort, but she came up empty. I said, “It’s okay,” and went back to the phone. This time I gave the switchboard Vincent Mado
I had to run the gauntlet of Freddie, the Neanderthal, and DeAngelo, whose hoarse whisper sounded a bit out of breath, before I got put through to the big cheese. Big, I thought, green and moldy. Mado
“Where are you?”
I gri
I had to hand it to him. He actually chuckled into the phone. Then he said, “What fact?”
“Who do you know that drives a pink Cadillac?”
“What?”
I just waited, seeing no point in repeating it, and after a moment his basso profundo resumed: “Offhand, I don’t know anybody who’d be seen dead in a pink Cadillac. Are you serious?”
I recalled the classic Continental in his drive and knew I’d hit on a sore spot. If Mado
I thanked him and got off the line after he recited the expected litany of veiled threats. Naturally he didn’t commit himself to anything actionable over the telephone but the meaning was clear to both him and me. I couldn’t help feeling more shaken than ever when I hung up, and Joa
She was giving me a cool stare. She said, “So you did go to see him. What kind of deal have you made with him?”
“You don’t trust anybody, do you?”
“Simon, I want to.”
Her faith was so tattered I couldn’t keep attacking her. Instead, I gave her a brief resumé of the day’s unhappy events. I condensed it but left out nothing important. At the end I said, “There’s no question I’ve been floundering. We’re still in that boat without hooks or bait. The only clue that makes any sense is that pink Cadillac Mike saw leaving Aiello’s when he went there the second time last night. If he was telling the truth, and if it was a pink Cadillac. He was a bit vague about it and it was the middle of the night. Headlights might make a car look pink even if it was orange or red or yellow. Of course, the chances are even if we do find a pink Cadillac we’ll discover it was stolen three hours before the robbery. But it’s just about the only lead we have, and we’ve only got”—I looked at my watch—“a little over forty hours to settle this.”
I got up, picked up the .38 from the newspaper on the bed, and stuffed the gun into Joa
So I gave her the .38 and told her to use it if she had to, trusting she’d learned from the mistake with Brawley. When I handed her the handbag she said, “Where are we going?”
“Di
She shuddered a little. “It’s all so—callous, Simon. We keep talking about the money and never say a word about the man who was murdered.”
I said, as harshly as I could, “I don’t gave a damn about the poor unfortunate victim and I see no reason why you should. If ever a man deserved to be killed—”
“All right,” she said, snappish. “Let’s not argue about it.”
“I just want it clear. We’re not a couple of hawkshaws investigating a murder mystery. The only reason it might help us to know who killed Aiello is that it might lead us to the loot. I’ve got no interest in bringing anybody to justice—if there is such a thing—all I care about is your life and mine. Understood?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, of course. I get stupid sometimes.”
No wonder, I thought dismally. Buffeted back and forth by one shock after another. Most of the girls I knew would have ended up in a rubber room long ago, going through what Joa
I put an arm around her shoulders and held her tight, walking her to the door and outside. The sun was going down behind a layer of diaphanous cirrus clouds. I made a remark about the spectacular sunset and she was not too immersed in fright to agree, even stop a moment to stare and drink it in. With sudden savage conviction I said to myself, We will make it through this.
We ate in the motel dining room. We didn’t have much to say. I was trying to work out the next moves, and Joa
I had spotted one outside when we’d walked to the lobby from the room—a paunchy, purple-nosed man standing with his hip against the fender of his car, trying not to look interested in us.
When we were out of his earshot Joa
I wanted to get us out from under Mado