Hit and The Marksman by Brian Garfield Page B

know.”
    â€œAnd when they’re satisfied you don’t know anything, they’ll rub you out anyway because they can’t afford to let you go and blab what they did to you. A sweet pot, Crane. Look, the only chance we’ve got is to throw in together. We can’t go to the cops—they might help us find the stuff but we’d end up dead anyway, and most of the cops I know would keep the money and pretend they-never found it.”
    Which was, I thought, exactly what Mike himself was proposing to do. I didn’t point out the irony of his indignation. I said, “Where do you figure to start looking?”
    â€œHave we got a deal?”
    â€œLet’s put it like this. We’ll work together. If and when we find the money we can decide what’s to be done with it. If it looks like we can guarantee our own safety by turning the money over to Madonna, then I’d suggest it’s better to be alive and broke than dead and rich.”
    â€œThat’d have to be a hell of a guarantee.”
    â€œIf we can work it out that way, will you go for it?”
    He scowled. “If it’s the only way, hell yes. Have I got a choice?”
    â€œAll right. We’ve got a deal.”
    He nodded. “Okay. Then the first thing you do is check out the Judy Dodson bird. She was still with Aiello when I left last night. Look, the reason I can’t do it myself, I got to stay out of sight. They might take a notion to haul me in any time. You’ve at least got forty-eight hours and they’ll probably keep their hands off you that long, just to see if you can come up with something.”
    â€œAny other ideas if the girl doesn’t pan out?”
    â€œOne or two,” he said. “For instance, Frank Colclough and Stanley Raiford.”
    I looked at him. He had uttered two prominent political names. Frank Colclough, the county supervisor, was a political kingmaker who bossed the county machine. Stanley Raiford, the ex-governor, had been in the news lately, making hard-knuckled speeches that sounded very much like the noises made by a man running for office. It was rumored he was about to throw his hat in the ring and run for the Senate against the aging incumbent.
    Mike said, “There were money packages in the safe with their names on them.”
    â€œPackages for what?”
    â€œYou’d have to find that out yourself. I don’t know. The money wasn’t payoffs, I know that much. The bag money doesn’t get listed like that in the safe. So it was something else, not bribe cash. But it had Colclough’s and Raiford’s names on it. Private money, probably, that Aiello was keeping as a favor to them. There were some others, but those are the only two names I remember.”
    I scowled. They were leads but they didn’t sound very good. But at least it was a place to start.
    Mike said, “I’m going to have to stay under cover. If it wasn’t for Jo I wouldn’t trust you, but I figure she’ll look out for my rights if you get any fancy ideas.”
    It was a strange thing for him to say. I had no way of disproving the idea that he and Joanne had set the whole thing up, using me as their patsy; no way except the knowledge that it didn’t fit with Joanne’s character for a minute.
    â€œAll right,” I said. “You sit tight.” I turned to go.
    He stopped me. “How about my gun?”
    I studied him, then handed the gun to him. He stuck it in his waistband. He said, “I may not stay here, but I’ll get in touch.”
    I said, “If I need to find you, where do I look?”
    â€œHere. Then the Mariache Bar on South Tenth. An old buddy of mine owns it, he’s not in the mob. I’ll leave word for you with him if I have to move. His name’s Maldonado.”
    I nodded and went.

Chapter Five
    Mike Farrell, I thought as I drove away, was a vexing character. If I’d still been a cop, and