Dortmunder said, “Are the five minutes up?”
“One minute to go. Keep looking for a place.”
“Sure,” Dortmunder said and looked out the windshield again.
The only good thing was the absence of cops. They’d seen a couple of patrol
cars, but no more than normal; the search was obviously being hampered by the
rain.
It seemed to Dortmunder, sitting there in the stolen station wagon while Kelp
optimistically dragged him around through all this rain on a wild goose chase,
that this was the story of his life. His luck was never all good, but it was never all
bad either. It was a nice combination of the two, balanced so exactly that they
canceled each other out. The same rain that washed away the green paint also
loused up the police search. They stole the bank, but they couldn’t get into the
safe. On and on.
Dortmunder sighed and looked at his watch. “Your minute is up,” he said.
Reluctantly, Kelp said, “Okay, I guess so.” Then he said, “I’ll take a swing
around and head back that way.”
“Go straight back,” Dortmunder said.
“I don’t want to go back the same roads. What’s the point of that?”
“What’s the point of the whole thing?”
“You’re just depressed,” Kelp said. “I’ll turn right at that light up there and
swing back that way.”
Dortmunder was about to tell him to make a U-turn, but memories arose and
he changed his mind. “Just so we’re back by nine-thirty,” he said, though he
knew they wouldn’t be.
“Oh, sure,” Kelp said. “Definitely.”
Dortmunder slumped in the corner and fantasized a return to the trailer in
which May would meet him at the door by saying, “Herman opened it!” Then
Herman would appear, smiling, holding handfuls of money. “Well, I got it,” he’d
say. Murch’s Mom would be seen kicking her neck brace into the rain, shouting,
“We don’t need that lawsuit money any more!” Victor would stand in the
background, smiling, as though waiting his turn to come forward and recite “The
Boy Stood on the Burning Deck.”
Kelp slammed on the brakes, and the station wagon skidded dangerously to
the right. Dortmunder, jolted out of his daydream and practically into the glove
compartment, shouted, “Hey! Hey, watch it!” He stared out front, and there was
nothing in front of them; just the top of a hill they’d been driving up, a long
gradual slope with nothing at the top, no reason at all for Kelp to slam his brakes
on that way.
“Look at that!” Kelp shouted and pointed at nothing.
But Dortmunder looked instead out the rear window, saying, “You want
another rear-end collision? That’s your trademark? What the hell are you
doing?”
“All right, I’ll drive off the road. But will you take a look at that?”
Kelp drove the station wagon onto a gravel parking lot, and Dortmunder at
last looked at what he was so excited about. “I see it,” he said. “So what?”
“Don’t you get it?”
“No.”
Kelp pointed again. “We put the trailer right there,” he said. “See what I
mean?”
Dortmunder stared. “Well, God damn it,” he said.
“It’ll work,” Kelp said.
Dortmunder couldn’t help it; against his better judgment, he was smiling. “Son
of a bitch,” he said.
“That’s right,” said Kelp. “That’s absolutely right.”
28
“I HATE RAIN,” Captain Deemer said.
“Yes, sir,” said Lieutenant Hepplewhite.
“I always have hated rain,” Captain Deemer said. “But never as much as
today.”
The two officers were in the back seat of the patrol car the captain was using
as his mobile headquarters during the search for the elusive bank. In the front
were two uniformed patrolmen, the driver on the left and a man to operate the
radio on the right. The radio was the contact not only with the precinct but also
with other cars and with other organizations engaged in the bank hunt. Unfortunately, what the radio was mostly contacting was static, a fuzzing and bussing
and crackling that filled the car like the aural expression of the captain’s nervous
system.
The captain leaned forward, resting one heavy hand on the seat-back near the
driver’s head. “Can’t you do any. thing with that goddam radio?”
“It’s the rain, sir,” the radio man said. “The weather is doing this.”
“I know goddam well the goddam weather is doing it,” the captain said. “I
asked you can’t you do anything about it.”
“Well, we get pretty good reception when we’re on a hill,” the radio man said.
“Driving along the flat, though, all I get is this static.”
“I hear it,” the captain said. He poked the driver on the shoulder and said,
“Find me a hill.”
“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 tinny voice was heard, as though they’d
reached somebody who lived in an empty dog-food can. “I’ve got
headquarters,” the radio man said.
“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.”