They awaited the arrival of the cops in Mrs. Havermann’s parlor. The dog had been released from his prison upstairs and now lay at Stolz’s feet. After obvious cogitation Marvitch said, “You know, there are some funny things about the old lady’s death. She has all the marks of a strangling job. But then there’s all that blood—bloody prints on the closet door, blood all the way down the hall and the stairs. There’s even some over there.” He pointed to the large stain in the rug by the table holding the phone. He had found the phone off the hook and on the floor when he had come searching here for the money. Off the hook, and covered with bloody prints. “I think one of them got shot. We ought to go out and see if there’s a trail outdoors and where it leads.”

“It’s obvious that one of them was shot,” Stolz said impatiently. “But we won’t hunt for him. That’s for the police. We don’t dare meddle with evidence. This isn’t Nevada.” He was looking hard at Marvitch. “We’ll be walking a tightrope here. Watch what you say, watch how you act. We just got here, and we’re stunned.”

They practiced looking stunned, and the dog slept until the cops came with red lights, sirens, and bright gold badges.

Skip slammed the lid of the suitcase, locked it. It was bigger than the zipper case and quite old and battered. “Well, that’s that.”

Uncle Willy, pale and shaken and twitchy with nervousness, sat across the room on the other bed. “Can’t you tell me everything that happened? I don’t want to be left in the dark. After all, I got my friends into this. Important people.” Uncle Willy was thinking of Snope and of Snope’s methods when he became displeased.

“You’re better off not knowing,” Skip said. “Just believe me, the job went sour. Big Tom goofed. Real bad. I knew when you dragged him in on it, it was a mistake.”

Uncle Willy chewed a nail. “I can’t understand anything going wrong for Big Tom. He’s a real careful operator. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone anywhere near the house tonight. Maybe if you hadn’t been there, prying around——”

“Just be glad I was,” Skip said. “Just be glad I was smart enough to do a little checking. If I hadn’t heard those shots and seen what I had, you might be a sitting duck right now.”

“No, no, I’m in the clear. Perfectly in the clear. Skip, I don’t mind telling you this job washes me up. I’m all through. I’m never going to have anything more to do with anything crooked.”

“Now you’re getting smart,” Skip commended.