Mother Madlebaum peered over the counter at the gray-haired young man who held out an empty palm and asked for a loan on a mythical watch. She removed her spectacles, polished them with her black alpaca apron, and glanced shrewdly toward the door.
“What a start you gave me, Chester. And me thinking all along you were lagged.”
“Five C’s on the block,” laughed Fay pleasantly. “Remember the blue-white gems I brought you last time? Remember the swag, loot and plunder from the Hanover job? You made big on them.”
“I always do with your stuff, Chester.”
“Can you lend me five hundred? I’ve just beaten stir.”
The old fence opened her safe and brought forth a money-drawer. Fay took the bills she handed to him, without counting them. He touched his hat and started toward the door.
“Wait, Chester.”
“What is it?”
“Want to plant upstairs till the blow is over?”