I said. I got the key out of the drawer. “Let’s take a ride.”
We went out to the car. “Mind if I drive?” he asked.
“No. Go ahead.”
I climbed in beside him and he eased it out into Main. “Nice car,” he said. “Radio and everything, huh?”
“Now listen, you stupid bastard,” I said, “I don’t know what you’re driving at, but I can get a bellyful of you quicker than most people. So why don’t you get wise and shove? You fall out of that bed about once more and the grasshoppers’ll start talking to you.”
“You know,” he said, “I been thinkin’ about that.” He turned right beyond the bank and started down the street where the Taylor building had been. “Thought I might go out to the Coast.”
“Now you’re getting smart.”
He jerked his head towards the charred rubble and the ashes. “Quite a fire they had, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” I said. I’ll never know why I didn’t begin to tumble then. Maybe it was that silly, half-witted act he was putting on.
He turned again at the second cross street and started around the block. And just after he’d made the last turn he pulled to the curb and stopped. We were facing up the street towards what had been the rear of the Taylor building. There was a big elm hanging out over the curb and we were in the shade. There was something awfully familiar about it. And then the warning began to go off in my head at last. This was the exact spot where I’d parked the car that day of the fire. The chill was going all over me now in spite of the midmorning heat. There wasn’t one chance in a thousand he’d stumbled on this spot accidentally. And the only way he could have known about it—I didn’t want to think about that.
“You know, it’s funny about this place,” he said. “Familiar, sort of; ain’t it? You ever get that feeling? You know, that you’ve been in a place before.”
“Break it up,” I said. “What are you talking about?”
“That day they had the fire. Seems to me I was walking along here, going back to town, about a half hour after it started. I’d been over there watching it, see, but I’m kind of funny; fires bore me after a while. The way I see it, there’s no money in ‘em. Or at least that’s what I thought then. That just shows you how stupid a man can be when he don’t use his head. Now, you take a smart son-of-a-bitch like you, a real big-shot sort of guy, he knows there’s money in fires.”
“How about getting to it?” I said. “It wouldn’t take much to finish that face for you.”
He lighted a cigarette and shook his head. The simpleton act was gone now. “I wouldn’t advise it, pal. You know how the monkey was caught in the lawn-mower. The best thing to do in a case like that is to hold still.”
“Hold still for what?” I asked, feeling the sweat gathering on my face.
“Well, let’s say about five thousand, plus the Buick. They say you tapped the bank for ten, which probably means about fifteen grand, so I figure around half will do for me. The way I see it, why be a hog? People wouldn’t like you.”
“I think I’m beginning to get it,” I said. “You’ve got a goofy idea I had something to do with that bank business, and so—“
“Let’s just skip all that part, pal,” he said. I could see I was boring him. “Let’s just talk about the geetus. It’s more fun that way. As far as thinking you clouted the bank, you’re talking about the Sheriff and that deputy, Tate. They think you did it. Me, I’m another guy altogether. I just happen to be the only one who can prove it. But we wouldn’t want to make it that easy for ‘em, would we, pal? As I see it, let ‘em earn their money. So that being the case—“
“You keep talking, but you haven’t said anything,” I broke in. “What do you mean, you can prove a crazy pipe dream like that?”
“Just like I said. I saw you drive up here in a hell of a hurry thirty minutes after the fire broke out and everybody who wasn’t staying for the second show had started home—“
“What does that prove?” I said angrily. “Maybe I was supposed to punch a time-clock, or something?”
“Please, pal. Keep your stories straight. I