Duffy leant on the bar. “Here’s your split,” he said gently. He gave each man the money rolled in a tight ball. “Five grand,” he said. “Don’t count it now.”
Shep picked up his glass and poured the beer on the floor at his feet. “Gimme champagne,” he said to the barman. “I’m goin’ to launch myself.”
Schultz fingered his cut, then shoved it in his trouser pocket. He looked vacantly at Duffy, nodded, and went out.
Gilroy turned his head, watching him walk across the floor. “That guy’s mighty careful with his dough,” he said. “I wouldn’t say he’s tight. He’s careful.”
Duffy glanced at the clock. “I’m going to snatch myself a little sleep,” he said. “We’ll get going about eleven.”
Gilroy said, “Any dough hanging to this job?”
Duffy nodded. “Sure,” he said. “I want you boys to make money while you can.”
Shep took his short fat nose out of his glass. “That’s a hell of a way to talk,” he said.
Duffy grinned. “You expect to earn this dough, don’t you?” he said.
“Sure, but we won’t work that hard.”