The Big Thaw - Donald Harstad [114]
“Jeez,” said Nancy. “You expecting company?”
We unwrapped the sandwiches, poured caffeine-free diet pop all around, and sat down to eat. I took a couple of bites, and then asked the question.
“So, what you got this time?”
Nancy took a drink of pop, and put her glass down. “You know anything about a bank robbery going to go down in Nation County on Sunday?”
I thought I carried it off rather well. “Sure. You too, eh?”
“You serious?” she asked. “You do know about that?”
“Sure.” I took a drink of my pop. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Shoot.”
“Just how in the hell do you find this shit out?”
She grinned happily. So did Shamrock. Nancy pointed at the blue-eyed little elf with the camera. “My girl Friday, here. You gotta give it to her, Carl. She’s good.”
According to the two of them, they were in one of the local bars on Wednesday night. Relaxing. One of the local denizens hit on Shamrock. Gently, to be sure. But a hit, nonetheless. Being bored, she played him for a while, with Nancy right at the table.
I asked who. Didn’t know his name, beyond Terry. They described him as about twenty-five through thirty, nearly six feet, and with “nice buns.”
“That’ll look good on a police report.” It had to be Terry Waterman. The only guy I could think of in the county with a strong ass.
“Be creative,” said Nancy. “Anyway …”
Terry found out that Shamrock was with the media. Trying to impress her, he said something on the order of “I just might have a scoop for you …”
“And I go, ‘Oh, right,’ like that,” said Shamrock. “And he goes, ‘No really, there’s something big going down on Sunday.’ And I go, ‘Oh, sure.’”
She must have said it sweetly, because, as the evening wore on, he got more specific. Apparently, with both details and proposals. After the second time she refused to go home with him, he really turned on the charm.
“So he goes, ‘You want to cover a bank job, sweet lady?’ and I go, ‘Maybe.’ So he goes—” and she lowered her voice about two octaves—“‘This is gonna be a record breaker. Five hits at the same time. Five. All close.’”
Five. There was the magic number again. And all close.
“No shit?” I took another slug of pop. “What else?”
Nothing. She’d still refused to sleep with him. So he got angry, called her a “media tease,” and left.
Shamrock was laughing so hard she almost fell off the chair. “Mmmedia teeeasse!”
I was glad to see the local boys were still as adroit as ever. I laughed, too, but it wasn’t easy. Five. Five.
When the gaiety subsided a bit, I pressed. “You sure it was five?”
“It was,” said Nancy. “Five hits, and all close together. That’s what he said.”
I excused myself, and went to the phone. Fascinating. I called the office, and got George and Sally looking for information on Waterman.
When I returned to the table, I popped the question. “So, what would you like in return? I suspect this little dinner isn’t going to cover it.”
As it happened, Nancy had a plan. All I had to do was tell her where the hits were going down, and they’d just “happen” to be in the area. Might even get a shot or two of the thing in progress. Scoop of the century. Hint, hint.
Or, as Shamrock put it, “That could make my whole career. Honest.” The eyes had it, so to speak.
“Look, you two. I only have fair information on one location. I’ll give you what I have, but you gotta promise to stay back where you won’t get into trouble.” I shrugged. “If it actually goes down. I’m not going to promise anything more than a fifty percent chance at this point.”
Of course they would. Went without saying. Nancy I could really believe, as she’d been in the crap before, and wanted no more. I felt I could rely on her to keep Shamrock from getting carried away.
I took a deep breath, and let it out very slowly. “Right. Okay, look, sometime on Sunday, we think there may, and I emphasize may, be a hit on the bank in Frieberg.”
“No shit! This Sunday?” Nancy was genuinely excited. It dawned on me that they hadn