“They might — he could testify against ’em.” Kells and the driver went into the drugstore to telephone.
Kells called Beery at home, said: “Swell, Shep... Did you have any trouble getting away?... That’s fine... Borg got to worrying about giving all that dough back so he ducked over to MacAlmon’s place and climbed in a window... Uh huh. The crazy bastard damn near got me the works, but if he hadn’t been there I wouldn’t be here — so what? I don’t know whether to give him a punch in the nose or a bonus... I have an idea Crotti would’ve tried to smack me down whether Borg had been there to put the cash on the line or not, I don’t think he liked me very well... So long, Shep, and good luck — I’ll send you a postcard.”
He hung up and went out and got into the cab with Granquist and Borg.
The driver turned around, asked: “Where to?”
“How’d you like to make a long haul?” Kells glanced at Granquist, smiled at the driver.
The driver said: “Sure. The longer the better.”
Kells said: “San Bernardino.” He leaned back and closed his eyes.
Chapter Eight
The room was about thirty by fifteen. There were six booths along each long side. At one end there was a door leading to a kind of kitchen and at the other end there was a door that led to steps down to the alley. There was a small radio on a table beside the door that led to the kitchen and there was a clock on the wall above the table. It was five minutes past nine. Kells and Granquist and Borg sat in the third booth on the right, coming in. There was no one in any of the other booths.
The cab driver went back to the door to the kitchen and called: “Jake.” Then he bent over the radio, snapped it on.