Night Squad by David Goodis Read Free Book Online Page B

forty.”

          “Just for tax evasion?”

          “They get me for tax evasion, that's only the beginning. Then they really go to work. Them Federal agents, they get onto something, it's like white on rice. So one thing leads to another. Some joker gets scared and opens his mouth and that drags in some other joker and so on. And finally they wrap it up; they get all the money tabulated—who paid off and why.”

          “It comes to a lotta money?”

          “Plenty.”

          “How much?”

          “I'm not gonna tell you how much,” Grogan said. “You got a gleam in your eye already. Next thing you'll ask me where it's stashed.”

          Corey ignored that. He thought aloud, “A bundle of money hidden somewhere—”

          And then they looked at each other. Grogan said, “You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?”

          “Well, it's an angle.”

          “You're damn right it's an angle,” Grogan said. “There's people who know my financial setup. People close to me and maybe others not so close to me. So let's say one of them latches on to an idea. Just plays around with it. Tells himself that Grogan don't live in a mansion and Grogan don't play the races and what it all comes down to, Grogan ain't a big spender. So what does Grogan do with all his money? Christ's sake, of all the money Grogan's been making, there's gotta be more than what's in the bank and what's in stocks and bonds. Sure, there's gotta be a lot more than that. But where?”

          “And that's the question. And there's only one way to get the answer. Get it from Grogan. Get Grogan in some nice quiet place and sit him down and have a friendly conversation. Then maybe a little pressure, and sooner or later Grogan spills.”

          Corey was gazing at the floor. “It's possible.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It adds, anyway. I mean, it checks with what them hoods did. The way they played it. They wanted to get you outta there alive.”

          Corey kept gazing at the floor. Then he slowly got up from the chair, started walking around, not looking at Grogan. His forehead was creased and he was biting his lip.

          “You're letting it show,” Grogan said.

          Corey looked at him.

          The silver-haired man was smiling thinly, knowingly. “You're wishing,” he said. “Wishing you had the badge.”

    Correct , Corey thought.

          Grogan went on smiling. “With the badge it would be a breeze. You could go around knocking on doors and asking questions. In no time at all you get a lead. And then another lead. And then another lead. And still another—”

          “ If I had the badge,” Corey cut in dryly.

          “If you had the badge,” Grogan said, not smiling now, “I wouldn't give you the job.”

          “How come?”

          Grogan's voice was toneless. “I don't trust anyone who carries a badge. Not even my good-time buddy Captain Tommy; and I been doing business with the captain for years. In his heart he's a thug and that's why we get along. Up to a point, that is. It comes to anything important, I remember his badge and that's the stoplight.”

          “But why?”

          “You oughta know why,” Grogan said. “You and the captain are in the same groove; both out for the extra dollar. But tell me,” his eyes were lenses probing deep, “weren't there times when you saw the badge lookin' at you? When you heard the badge talkin' to you?”

          Corey blinked hard.

          “Get what I mean?” Grogan murmured.

          “Let's drop it.” He looked away from Grogan.

          There was a soft chuckle. “It kinda tickles me,” Grogan said. “No matter what he does on the side, a cop is always a cop—until they take the badge away. Then he is what he is.”

          “Look, whaddya say we drop it?”

          “Sure, sure.” Grogan patted