The Kidnapper by Robert Bloch Page B

keep it that way, too—him watching her and her watching him,.
    But it worked. All through supper, it worked.
    Then I got out the opened bottle and some glasses and some coke and a tray of ice-cubes. I put them on the table and tossed the deck of cards down, too.
    “Here,” I said. “Help yourself. Maybe you two would like to play a little two-handed rummy or something.”
    “Two-handed?”
    “That’s right. I’ve got to go out now, and find a spot.”
    Specs looked at me. “Spot?”
    God, he was stupid! “Sure.” I smiled. “A spot for them to leave the money at.”
    “But couldn’t you wait until tomorrow?” Mary asked. “It ought to be easier in the daylight.”
    “No.” I shook my head. “First of all, I don’t want anyone to notice me cruising around, looking things over, the way they would in daylight. Secondly, I want to make my call to Warren early in the morning. Thirdly, since I’ll be picking up the dough at night, it’s good that I find out what the place looks like at night. So there won’t be any traps or funny stuff.”
    “That makes sense, Steve. You got a head on your shoulders.” Specs nodded at me, and I nodded back.
    “Damn tootin’ I do. From now on in, this is my party. There won’t be any mistakes and there won’t be any trouble. Just remember that, both of you, and we’ll be all right. So sit down, have a drink, relax. I’ll be back before you notice it.”
    Mary came up and kissed me. “Be careful,” she said.
    I grinned at her. “You too. Don’t let old Specs here make any passes. He’s a devil with the women.”
    Then I got out of there.
    I wasn’t grinning as I rode away. What I told them was true; I had to find a spot tonight. And it had to be right.
    I drove up the highway, further out of town. Then I circled west some more, looking for a crossroads.
    This wouldn’t be easy.
    To begin with, the way I figured it, I wanted to get a spot that wasn’t anywheres around the cottage. I wanted it to be near a main highway, so that when the police started thinking about it they’d guess whoever took the dough would head for Chicago or Minneapolis from there.
    The second thing about the location was that it had to be near a crossroads at both ends of whichever side-road it was on. That’s so I’d have a choice in case they were waiting to jump me.
    Also I was looking for trees, maybe a woods with a wide path running through it—so I could take off in that direction if I had to.
    To make it worse, if the place was on a side-road it had to be one of those roads that run straight in both directions for a long ways. I wanted to be able to see down those roads, tomorrow night.
    And finally, the spot I was looking for had to be deserted. No people around. That was most important of all. But everything was going to be important when you came right down to it.
    So I kept driving and I kept looking.
    After I drove west a ways, I turned north again. I kept track of my route in my head. But that wouldn’t do me any good unless I could finally locate what I was after.
    My watch said ten. I’d been gone almost two hours, and no soap. I was beginning to get worried; my hands were sweaty. I wished now I’d thought to pick a spot beforehand. I wished I could quick think up another way of getting the money. I wished a lot of things.
    Then I came to County Trunk XX and turned off, just on the chance. And I found the place.
    It was just what I’d been looking for, and that was good.
    It was even better than good, it was perfect. I drove past twice, then drove back and parked and took a look around.
    This was it, all right.
    It was one of these old farmhouses, set back from the road. The roof had started to cave in, and it looked like nobody’d lived here for maybe five or six years or more. I had the straight-away on either side of me, and a crossroads about a mile in both directions. In back of the house was this trail through some woods and I could even see where it came out