'What happened then?' asked Ossie when she had taken a long drink from the glass. 'Did you get through with the questioning okay? You handled it?'
'Easy,' she said blandly. 'Like falling in love. Gave them a list of what was stolen from me. By the way, can I have my pocket book back?' She looked accusingly at the Greek. 'It was you, Ari, I could tell even with the hood. The way you keep doing that cute little run. It must be a nervous twitch, Ari. You did it in the bus.'
'Watch that, Ari,' warned Bruce. 'It's a clue. We don't want to hand out no clues. No jogging when we're robbing.'
'We're going to do some more soon are we? Say we are,' said Molly. 'I want to be under a hood next time.'
Ossie studied the line of waiting, anticipatory faces. 'It's something we've got to discuss,' he said. 'First, I guess we all want to see what we made on the operation.' He reached for the first canvas bag and carefully slid the contents on to the table. It made a pile of wallets, jewellery, cigarette cases, lighters and cash. The robbers leaned over. Ossie began to sort it, pushing the money to one side. Bruce began to count that. Katy put a jeweller's eyeglass to her eye and examined the trinkets critically. Every bag was emptied, each set of contents sorted and counted. Eventually Ossie turned to them.
'Four hundred and ninety-three dollars, thirty-seven cents,' he said. 'Assorted jewellery, such as you can see. It's not dynamite. There's a couple of nice cigarette cases, but they've got initials on them and those would have to be removed before we sell them.'
A small pout of unhappiness blew from Molly's-face. 'Sell
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them?' she repeated. 'Sell them? Somehow that seems so dishonest.'
The heads of the gang turned to her in slow astonishment. Bruce and Ossie matched eyebrows. Ossie said gently, 'So is armed robbery dishonest, Molly. In fact, it would be pretty well impossible to run a gang like this without some element of dishonesty.'
'I know, I know,' sighed Molly. 'You think I'm crazy. It's just that doing the robbery's exciting and there's a risk. But, well, how can I explain it? Selling the stuff seems ... well... mean.'
'I know a fence,' said Sidewalk practically. 'He'll take everything, but his rate ain't so good.'
'Maybe we would show a better profit by each taking a few things to the pawnbrokers and secondhand shops,' said Katy. 'A little at a time.'
'We need a fence,' said Ossie decisively. 'I vote we give Sidewalk the assignment of getting this arranged.'
'You're supposed to fix a fence before you do the job, son,' warned Sidewalk. 'That's why you don't have the stuff hanging around where people can smell it out.'
'I know, I know,' sighed Ossie. 'But we're beginners, remember. Next time we'll have things arranged a little more on the line. And that's another thing. Next time. Now do we vote that we're going on to do something else? Now we know we can handle a crime are we going to try and improve on it, or does anyone want to quit now?'
Nobody wanted to quit, although Molly insisted quietly: 'I'd be a whole heap happier if we didn't have to sell it.' No one took any notice of her.
Katy got up and putting the loot in two of the bags she carried it to the bathroom. The money she left on the table and Bruce divided it up equally between them. He put the bills in his pocket. 'Now at least I can eat,' he said.
From below them came the sound of somebody playing an evening piano. They played sadly and badly and the fractured notes floated like memories.
'You'll be hearing soon,' said Bruce as one by one they sidled out into the warm corridor. 'Just be ready.'
He and Bruce went out of the elderly hotel and walked along
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Ocean Drive and across Washington Avenue. They went to a bar next to the burlesque show. It was half-dark in there, a blue rinse light coming from the television set hoisted up near the ceiling at the far end. Three or four male customers gazed up as if the machine was bringing them some celestial message. Ossie and Bruce went to the far end of the counter and turned their backs on the screen.
'So what do you think?' said Bruce.
'Well it worked. I mean it worked, didn't it? These old guys seem to slide right into it. And apart from Molly not wanting to sell the stuff, the old ladies seem right there, with it.'
'Less than five hundred bucks in cash, phoney rings and some dented cigarette cases ain't exactly the great train robbery,' pointed out Bruce. 'We might as well get jobs.'
'Right, okay. I agree,' said Ossie. 'But now we know they can do it. Next time we'll strike something rich.'
'Like what's rich?' said Bruce. 'You got any ideas?'
'A house,' said Ossie quietly. 'Jesus, this area's full of loaded houses.'
'A burglary,' said Bruce.
'You're quick, real quick. What I think we should do is to smell around for a while. Keep your eyes on the newspapers maybe. Then when we come up with something considerable, go to work on it.'
'It'll be quieter than a stick-up,' agreed Bruce finishing his beer. They went out and got some hot pastrami sandwiches from a takeaway, and cans of beer from a package store. Ocean Drive was quiet except for the insistent pushing sound of the waves.
'My dad always thought I'd make a good preacher,' said Ossie biting into the sandwich as he walked along.
'Shows how wrong fathers can be,' mumbled Bruce with his mouth full.
'Maybe I'll still be, one day,' said Ossie. 'I got a feeling for it. I just see all these old folk sitting along here in the day and, man, you know, I just feel like getting up there on a box or something and giving them the Jesus call.'
'They're Jewish,' Bruce pointed out through the bread. 'Ninety per cent Jewish. They'd say "Jesus, who needs it?" '
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'So it would be hard. I don't give a shit. I tell you sometimes up there on the beach tower I've been tempted, you know seriously tempted, to start throwing my arms about and start shouting things.'
'You want to be loved,' Bruce told him.
T guess that's it.'
They reached the Sunny Gables Hotel, looking sick in the orange floodlight which was thrown across its front. 'Maybe if we make a few more bucks,' said Bruce, 'I'll get me a better room. That one I got is so small I can turn the air conditioning on just by breaking wind.'
'You don't say.'
'Sure. It's enough to work the thermostat. Just breaking wind.'
'You got some nice habits,' said Ossie.
They walked into the front of the hotel. Gabby was standing in the shadows. They saw she was pointing a gun at them. They stopped and regarded her with alarm.
'Okay, you two,' she said quietly. I want to know what you're doing with my grandma.'
She looked very businesslike behind the small hole of the gun. She jabbed it towards them and ushered them towards the stairs.
'Put your hands over your heads,' she said firmly. 'And don't put them down.'
'You're enjoying this,' murmured Bruce. 'Domination over men.' He caught Ossie's grinning eye. They both raised their hands and allowed themselves to be prodded up the stairs. Gabby was three stairs behind them.
'Don't try to pull anything,' she warned sombrely. I promise I'll shoot.'
'We ain't pulled anything in weeks,' answered Bruce easily. He could tell by the back of Ossie's neck that he was smiling. Ossie's got the bullet, he thought. The stairs were narrow and turning and they could hear hesitant footsteps scraping down. They were on the first landing and the elevator clanked open almost at Ossie's elbow.
'In there,' said Gabby. 'Go on. Get in.' She pushed the snout of the gun into Bruce's middle. 'You get it if anybody tries anything.' Obediently they got into the elevator. It was old and
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trembling. Most of the residents of Sunny Gables were afraid to use it, the elderly having a profound distrust of the elderly.
'Which floor is your room?' she said to Bruce. 'I want to go there. Right now.'
'Gee, I thought you'd never ask,' he answered. He pressed the button for the eighth floor which was the t
op. The jerk caught the girl off balance and they both hurriedly caught her and steadied her. She regarded them with deep dislike.
'I want to know what you guys have been doing,' she muttered. She rattled the gun in Bruce's ribs.
At the next floor a thin, weak eyed man was waiting and he stepped into the cage, somehow blindly inserting himself between Gabby and Bruce. Gabby found herself with the gun pointing at the old man. She manoeuvered it behind his thin back until it was covering Bruce again. He grinned sympathetically. The thin old man focussed his eyes carefully on the elevator door and when it stopped at the next floor staggered out with tiny steps. He had not spoken to them.
'That guy,' said Ossie conversationally to Bruce. 'Have you noticed? All day he goes up and down in the elevator. Every time I get in this elevator he's either aboard or he gets aboard.'
T noticed,' said Bruce. 'Maybe he doesn't know where he lives.'
'Maybe he lives in this elevator,' said Ossie. 'Right here.'
They were completely ignoring Gabby. Her expression hardened. 'You two think you know all the answers don't you? Oh yes, you're real smarties. I might have known you were up to something. Using an old lady's guns. Jesus, how low can some people get?'
They had reached the eighth. Bruce and Ossie with exaggerated politeness stood back to allow Gabby to exit, but she pushed them both out with a nudge of the gun. 'Okay, where?' she said.
'Right here,' said Bruce reaching the door. I hope it's not too untidy, lady.'
"There may be blood on the floor before too long,' she replied. She was keeping up the hardness, but they knew she was unsure because of their lack of concern at the gun. They walked
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into the room. Bruce quietly let off wind and the air conditioning obligingly whirred. Ossie nodded at the feat. 'I'm impressed,' he said.
'What's it all about?' insisted Gabby at once.
'Grandma didn't tell you?'
'She wouldn't say.'
'Great. Good for Molly.'
The familiarity of the name immediately angered the girl. 'Jesus, you are such shit!' she burst out. 'She's seventy. Come on you bastards, what was it all for?'
'For armed robbery,' shrugged Bruce. Ossie nodded. 'You need a gun for armed robbery,' he added solicitously.
Gabby's large eyes opened larger. The muzzle of the revolver dropped and so did her attractive mouth. Loose Bruce and Ossie grinned together. 'Robbery ...?' she said at last. 'Robbery? My grandma ...?'
Bruce said: 'Well on this raid she didn't have the gun because she was the plant, you get me? We need somebody among the er ... victims ... and that was Molly. She had a good time, believe me.'
'I ought to shoot you, both of you,' she muttered.
'It ain't no good,' said Bruce easily. 'That weapon ain't loaded. We got the guns but there's only one bullet. And he's got that.' He nodded backwards at Ossie. Ossie looked puzzled. 'No man, you've got it,' he said.
Bruce went serious and pale. 'But you ...'
'You had it,' said Ossie quietly.
'I've got it,' said the girl firmly. 'It's in the gun.'
They whitened together. 'Jesus, Gabby, baby, watch what you're doing!' pleaded Bruce. 'Point it at him.''
T was brought up with guns,' said Gabby. 'My old man was a game ranger. What's in this could go right through both of you. And maybe it will.'
'Look,' said Ossie hurriedly. 'Let's have a little sense in this. We wouldn't have let your grandma have a loaded gun.'
'No,' said Bruce fervently. 'Not for anything, Gabby. We thought there was only one bullet and we thought one of us had it.'
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'One of you may get it,' she said. 'My grandma stole it from you. Great gang leaders you are. Letting a little old lady steal your ammunition.' She was very sure of herself now.
Expertly she nicked open the chamber of the gun as if to make sure the bullet had not got out. Both men jumped on her in the instant. Bruce caught the gun and Ossie caught the girl. She could fight and the room was narrow. Ossie fell over Bruce and Bruce got Ossie's boot in the chest. The girl rolled beneath them. The table fell over and one of its legs collapsed. Bruce managed to sit astride her. Ossie pushed him aside and muttered, 'I'll hold her, I'm stronger.'
'It's rape now, is it?' spat Gabby. 'You horny bastards.'
'Nobody's getting raped unless it's me,' Ossie assured her. 'We just wanted the gun and the bullet on our side. Now are you going to be a good girl?'
She nodded sullenly. Gently he got from above her. Her lovely breasts heaved under her sweater. The man and the girl regarded each other. Bruce, seeing the expressions, moved in quickly and helped her into the chair again. All three sat down panting. Bruce had the gun. Ossie took it from him and dropped the bullet from the chamber. 'Next time,' he said to Bruce, 'I'll make you sign for it.'
One hour and fifteen Cans of beer later they thought they had convinced her. She kept pace, argument by argument, and can by can, with them, but in the end she shrugged. 'Okay,' she said. 'I'll go and talk to her again. I want to make quite sure she knows what she's doing.'
'Like I say, it's only occupational therapy,' said Ossie persuasively. His strong eyes regarded her seriously and she had to look away after holding on to the gaze for a moment. 'These old people down here,' he went on, 'just need something ... a little excitement. We aim to provide it.'
Gabby hung her head thoughtfully. I want to go and talk to her again,' she repeated. I want to hear it from her. Okay?'
Bruce looked doubtful. But Ossie said: 'Okay. But don't try anything, sweetheart.'
'I know,' she said. 'She's in it too. I won't tell any tales. Don't worry your junior heads.'
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She went out. Bruce and Ossie drank another can of beer each silently. Then Bruce said: 'You're too old, man. She's my generation.'
"That's right,' agreed Ossie. 'That's why I've got a lap start. Just see, sonny, she'll come to daddy.'
'Listen, we can't,' said Bruce. 'We could screw up everything if we both start making pitches for her.'
'Maybe she'll have a say,' pointed out Ossie logically. 'Women have a curious idea they can make up their own minds. Anyway, don't let it bug you - or me. And have a little sympathy, man. Jesus, you're so young you'll have them by the hundred before you're too old and tired. Me, I'm nearly through, it could be my last chance.'
'You poor old bastard,' commented Bruce looking at the cheerful brown face and the chopped grey hair. 'My heart bleeds. It bleeds.'
They had another two cans of beer before the girl came back. She came quietly into the room. Bruce farted silently and set the air conditioning going. 'At least the air conditioning works in here,' she said. 'My grandma's only goes when it thinks it will.'
'Maybe I'll fix it for her,' offered Bruce.
Ossie smiled. 'What did she say, the old lady?' he asked.
Gabby sat, surrendered, on the chair. 'I've got to tell you that grandma told me she loved every minute,' she sighed. 'She's not crazy about spending the loot, but she liked doing the job. I've never seen her so frisky. To tell you the truth I only came back from St Petersburg because I was worried so much about her. She used to be such fun, like a young girl, but this place, this graveyard, is getting to her. And when I get back today she's hopping about like a buck rabbit.'
'Maybe she'll make enough to get away from South Miami Beach altogether,' said Ossie cagily. 'Go some place where she can be old and content and not have to live in a crummy hotel like this. What do you do for her, anyway?'
It was a shrewd inquiry. She hesitated. 'Not enough,' she admitted. 'But I worry. That's why I came back. Just now I'm not in a very strong situation myself. I had some trouble. I got mixed up with a guy who has a wife and it hit the fan just a few
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weeks ago. And he's got a vice-presidency and kids. I don't have a job or even a proper home of my own right now. God, I just had to sell my motor cycle, and that was hard, really hard.'
Bruce did not like the wa
y the conversation seemed to have been carried on without him, almost as if nobody expected he was mature enough to understand. 'She got any other family, your grandma?' he said solidly. 'Don't anybody else take an interest?'
Gabby looked carefully towards him. Ossie smiled to himself. 'Well, no, not really,' said Gabby. 'They don't give a damn. They sent her off down here before I was old enough to stop them. Go and have a good time on Miami Beach, they said. The sun always shines down there. Jesus, the sun! What the hell's the sun? If somebody cut their throat down here they'd put them out in the sun to get better.'
'Right,' said Bruce gravely. "That's absolutely one hundred per cent right.'
'What are you going to do next?' inquired Gabby expectantly.
'The gang?' said Ossie. 'Oh well, we were just getting around to thinking about that. It's still in the planning sequence you understand.'
'We can't reveal anything at this stage,' said Bruce importantly.
'Are you interested?' said Ossie, more to the point. He leaned towards her. Bruce looked annoyed that he had not said it. Gabby's face came up to meet Ossie's and nodded. She shrugged. 'I'm right out on a limb myself. People keep throwing dirt at me anyway. Maybe I could deserve some of it. Sure, why not?'
The young man and the older man regarded her passively, their beer cans held negligently. She appeared to have forgotten them, to have gone down into some cellar of her own. Her brown neck was arched forward and her beautiful profile became thoughtful, the lids and lashes dropped low over the large eyes. The air conditioning stopped and Bruce, silently lifting his leg, started it again. The girl said, 'That's the neatest way I ever
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saw of starting it.' It was an aside. Bruce looked shocked and ashamed. Ossie nodded approvingly towards Gabby.
'Okay, what did the stick-up make?' she asked eventually.
Bruce and Ossie turned to each other, their separate embarrassments meeting halfway. 'Well,' Ossie hesitated, 'it didn't show much of a profit. Not that much.'
'It was a kind of try-out,' apologized Bruce. 'Just to see if it could be done.'
'How much?' she insisted.
That Old Gang Of Mine Page 8
