Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Magazine. Vol. 40, No. 6, June, 1995

I got an old table knife from the box where I kept all that kind of stuff and handed it to him. He opened the jelly and slapped gobs of it on the bread slices and took big bites and chewed away and washed everything down with gulps from the milk carton. I stood there and watched him and listened to him make lots of slurping noises, and when he finished he belched loud and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

He turned around to me, and this time his look wasn’t hard. I thought he might even be grinning a little.

“So here you are, Donny, huh?”

I nodded my head. “Yeah, here I am, Ed.”

He sat back down on my bed and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. He was wearing one of those cowboy shirts, the kind with lots of stitching and two big pockets. He got a kitchen match from his other pocket and lit it with his fingernail. He took a deep drag on the cigarette and shook the match out and dropped it on the floor in front of my bed. I stayed where I was, standing in the middle of the room.

He blew smoke at the ceiling and looked at me. “Let me spell it out for you, Donny. I got a call yesterday from an old buddy of mine down in Ellenville. You know where that is?”

“Yeah. South of here about ten miles down Route 90 on the other side of the river.”

“I was headed there on the bus when it broke down. We just about made it to the depot. They told us we’d have to wait three hours till they could bring in another bus.” He took a long drag on his cigarette. “Then I remembered that time you called me at the joint after you got out. You told me you were working at Johnson’s garage in this town here — at least that’s what I thought I remembered. I took a chance and looked it up in the phone book. Real good luck my finding you, huh?”

He blew more smoke out of the side of his mouth and dropped the cigarette on the floor and stepped on it with the toe of his boot. I didn’t say anything.

“I can’t wait another three hours for the bus,” Ed said, staring straight at me. “I gotta be in Ellenville an hour from now.”

I still didn’t say anything.

“My buddy who called me got a real sweet job lined up. In and out fast tonight, and we make a bundle. Then we just disappear. You get what I’m talking about, Donny?”

I nodded. “I think so, Ed.” I scratched my head. “But ain’t you busting parole — I mean, going out of town without permission?”

He looked at me and then threw back his head and laughed. “Yeah — that and pulling this job, too. Donny, old buddy, you’re even dumber than you were in the joint, you know that?”

I looked away from him.

“You think maybe I was gonna go back on Monday and report to my parole officer like a good little boy? That what you were thinking, dummy Donny?”

I shook my head.

Ed’s face turned serious. “This is a one-time deal. I won’t get a chance like this again.” He stood up quick and started to walk up and down. “I gotta get to Ellenville. I’m just about broke right now. I got no money, no gun, nothing, just a lousy little pocket knife.” He turned and glared at me. “I feel naked, you know that, naked — and I don’t like feeling like that.”

I tried not to look him in the eye.

“How much money you got?”

I swallowed hard. “About four bucks.”

He stared at me.

“I don’t get paid much, Ed.”

He kept on staring at me. I took out my wallet from my back pocket and pulled out the four bills and handed them to him.

“Those two cars out back the ones you were talking about — the van and the Chevy?”

I nodded.

“Both of them gassed up and ready to roll?”

I nodded again.

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Donny?”

“No, Ed, I wouldn’t.”

“And the keys are in the office?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

I led the way back into the garage and over to the office door near the pay phone on the wall.

Ed tried the door. “It’s locked, dammit.”

“Mr. Johnson locks everything up at night,” I told him. “Except for my room.”

Ed looked around, and went over to the big red tool chests against the wall, the ones with all the sliding drawers.

“Timmy locks his tools, too,” I said.

Ed went over to the workbench. He found an old hammer and screwdriver and a bunch of ignition wires and a lot of other junk. He took the hammer and the screwdriver and went back to the office door. He raised his foot high and kicked it straight out against the office door. It burst open. Ed gave me a look over his shoulder and went into the office, and I followed him. The street light outside gave us enough light to see by.

Ed went straight to Mr. Johnson’s old wooden desk. “Which drawer?”

I pointed to the top drawer on the right. Ed didn’t even bother to check and make sure it was locked. He stuck the screwdriver into the top of the drawer next to the lock and banged away with the hammer. The drawer popped open.

Ed reached into the drawer and poked around and came up with two sets of keys in his fist. “These them?”

I nodded.