“Sure enough, Larry.”
He followed Steve and the girl to his office.
Once seated, the girl and Steve in the only two extra chairs the cubicle boasted and Larry behind his desk, he looked at her in what he hoped was reassurance. “Just tell us where you got the money, Zusanette.”
Steve reached out a hand suddenly and took her bag from her lap. She gasped and snatched at it, but he eluded her and she sat back, her chin trembling again.
Steve came up with a thick sheaf of bills, the top ones, at least, all fifties and tossed them to Larry's desk. He took out a school pass and read, “Susan Self, Elwood Avenue.” He looked up at Larry and said, “That's right off Eastern, near Paterson Park in the Baltimore section of town, isn't it?”
Larry said to her, “Zusanette, I think you'd better tell us where you got all this money.”
“I found it,” she said defiantly. “You can't do anything to me if I simply found it. Anybody can find money. Finders keepers—”
“But if it's counterfeit,” Steve interrupted dryly, “it might also be, finders weepers.”
“Where did you find it, Zusanette?” Larry said gently.
She tightened her lips, and the trembling of her chin disappeared. “I ... I can't tell you that. But it's [pg 016] not counterfeit. Daddy ... my father said it was as good as any money the government prints.”