“That’s what I don’t like. The carelessness.” Big Tom was frowning. Uncle Willy picked up a flower-seed catalogue off the cot and riffled its pages nervously. “If it was anyone but Stolz . . . If it was the old woman, for instance. I could believe she’d stuff the money in there and be stupid enough to think no one would find it. Hell, they do it all the time, little old ladies keeping a wad in a teapot or a tomato can.”

Skip shook his head. “The money belongs to Stolz. Karen’s sure of it.”

He had a flash of hope that Big Tom would worry himself right out of the job, but the hope faded. Big Tom got up and picked up his coat, shrugged into it. “Well, there’s a reason, God knows what. I don’t expect to move, though, until I hear from Benny in Las Vegas. That should be tomorrow. I’ll get in touch with you, Willy. You and Skip can be figuring out where you’ll be. I happened to think—— Skip being in class, that would be good enough. You need to be where people will see you, Willy; I don’t believe I’d do the jail routine.”

“You can’t argue with a jail record,” Uncle Willy repeated.

“It makes you look bad,” Big Tom said firmly. “Do something else.”

“All right.”

“I’ll see that Snope is notified; he’ll be standing by in case we need him.” Big Tom went to the door, paused there to give Skip a studying glance. “I don’t think we’ll have any trouble. Getting it shouldn’t amount to much. Keeping out of Stolz’s way afterwards might take a little work. Or it could be he can’t afford a squawk and there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

And I handed it over to you by blabbing to Uncle Willy, Skip thought, his expressionless eyes on Big Tom’s face.

Big Tom went out quietly, closing the door. His steps went down softly on the stairs to the yard. A minute later they heard his Ford start up in the alley. Uncle Willy said, “It’s going to work out fine, Skip. You’ll see, we’ll have a fat cut, no work or effort, nothing pinned on us by the bulls.”