And the man knew his garbage cans.

“The, what-you-call-it, galvanized type,” he said. Settling back in the booth now, he rested his smoke in a Tamm Tap ashtray. “Also two big plastic zipper bags, a can of waterproofing spray, and, yup, a shovel. I watched him watch the sales gal make two trips loading up his car. Then he drove off. He went through a couple suburbs and out into the country and was slowing down here and there, like he was looking for a place to hide something. And I wonder whatever that could be?”

“Where exactly?’

“There’s a bridge over the Meramec on Route 66, not that far from the Coral Court. Few miles west is all. The banks was a mucky mess. East of that bridge he took a winding road around a bluff—I had to keep way back, because he would slow down then pick up speed and a couple times he almost got stuck. Finally I had to reverse it real quick not to be made. Anyway, he went back over the bridge, and once he slowed down at a farm and was giving it a good long look when some dogs started in barking and spooked him. He turned and headed back and I lost him. I tried driving around the area, but came up empty.”

“So he could have buried the money.”

Shoulders shrugged his. “He had time. Later we found those garbage cans at a country club that went out of business. Dumped ’em in their clubhouse. But no spray can. No plastic bags.”

I frowned. “Why would he bury half the money?”

He exhaled smoke. “You spent time with him, Heller. You think that punk had his head sewed on straight? Look, I’m sick and tired of talking about the Greenlease case. Just fed up with it. I would never be so foolish as to steal that money—it had a damn red lantern tied on it!”

I was shaking my head slowly. “I don’t think he buried that money, Lou. He just drove around looking for a hiding place and never found anywhere that satisfied him.”

He leaned in conspiratorially. “Okay, then. I heard it was Jack Carr and gangster pals of his that got that money.” Leaned back. “Also, some say it all got burned up, ’cause it was so hot.”

“Just burst into flames, maybe? No, Lou. Not that, and not gangsters at the Coral Court, or Carl and his shovel. You and your buddy Joe Costello got the loot. But where did it go after that? Neither one of you is living like a king.”

He shook his head emphatically and the skinny man’s fat lips were quivering. “You have got it all wrong, Heller. I go way back with Joe, that’s true, we started out driving cab together. That’s why when Joe got a line on that little psycho of a kidnapper, I’m who he called. It was just a tip I got. Nothing more. No good deed goes unpunished, they say, and ain’t that the truth. I get the kidnapper. I get the gun he used to kill that poor kid. Isn’t that enough? So I didn’t recover the whole damn ransom money. Isn’t it enough that.…”