“Of course, sir, but were awfully short of cars, you know. If we sell a car, we have to take one in on trade. Otherwise, we wouldn’t have any stock after awhile, would we?”
“You buy cars right along.”
“Certainly. And we sell cars, too. We’re the largest used-car dealers in this block. But we like a trade-in.”
“Look,” said Tommy, “do you want to sell this car... without a trade-in, for cash? C-a-s-h, cash.” He thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out the sheaf of hundred dollar bills. “A quick sale, no arguing, no haggling.”
The salesman’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll pay $1895 for this car as she stands? Cash?”
“Make out your bill of sale.”
The salesman held up an index finger. “This way, please.”
He led Tommy to a small wooden office in which sat a secretary and a chunky, swarthy man. “Mr. Petrakis,” the salesman said, “no trade-in; the black Buick club coupe, cash, $1895...”
“The ’36, you mean?”
“No, sir, the ’40. The one we, uh, took in only yesterday. The eighteen thousand—”
The Grinning Greek sprang to his feet. “Are you crazy, man? Eighteen ninety-five,
Tommy took the money from his pocket and began counting out one hundred dollar bills. The Greek’s eyes took in the money and he suddenly stopped his tirade and beamed at Tommy. “Mister, you’re getting the biggest bargain of your life. You’re
The secretary whisked duplicate invoices into her typewriter. “Name, please?” she said in a monotone.
“James Robertson.”
“Address?”
“4531 Mariota, North Hollywood.”
Ten minutes later, Tommy climbed into the 18,000-local-mile car and drove from the used-car lot. He headed up Figueroa, passed through the heavy traffic section and came out on the parkway, which took him without a stop through South Pasadena, into Arcadia. He picked up Highway No. 66 and rolled along through Monrovia, Glendora, and finally into Upland, well in the heart of the orange country.
Here he parked his new car on a side street and walked two blocks to a drugstore. He bought a package of cigarettes and got two dollars’ worth of small change from the cashier. Holding it in his hand, he went to a phone booth at the rear of the store, dropped in a coin and dialed the Long Distance operator.
He gave her the number of the Melrose Lock and Key Shop in Hollywood and dropped some coins into the slot. The operator made a couple of connections, then said: “Upland calling,” which caused Tommy to grimace at the phone.
“Mr. Roan,” Tommy said into the phone, “you know who this is. Did she call?”
“Yes,” Roan replied, then pausing briefly, “I don’t know if I can help you or not...”
“Somebody’s with you!” Tommy exclaimed softly.
A sudden grunt came over the wire, then a harsh voice came on: “You’re damned right someone’s with him and listen here, Dancer—”
“I’m listening,” Tommy said savagely.
“...If you think you can get away with this, you’ve got another guess coming. The cops are looking for you and they’ll shoot you on sight. And if
“
“You’ll never spend a nickel of that money,” shouted the man in George Roan’s shop.
“Wrong,” said Tommy. “I’ve already spent two thousand of it.” Then he could have bitten his tongue for letting that slip. “Do you want the money or not?” he snapped.
“I want it, all right.”
“Then listen to me. You can have the money, what’s left of it, if you let Betty Targ go.”
There was a slight pause, then the voice said: “I thought so. All right, bring me the dough and you can have her.”
Tommy laughed harshly. “You must think I’ve got holes in my head... or that I want one, like Earl Faraday got.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, no? Well, I’m not going into it now. In fact, I think I’ve talked enough. I know damn well you’d just as soon the police did your dirty work for you. I’ll call you later. What’s your number — your private number...?”
“You can call me here.”
Tommy hesitated a moment, then said: “All right,” and hung up.
He left the drugstore and walked quickly to his car, two blocks away. Climbing in, he headed back to Highway No. 66, but instead of turning right, he turned left. Highway No. 66 was the transcontinental road, that ran through the desert, into Arizona and the East. Upland was on Highway No. 66; anyone hunting Tommy, as a result of the phone call from Upland, would assume that he was heading for the desert, or the State line.
