Free Mourner by Richard Stark Page B

burglar alarms in the house?"
    "Clara was quite certain on that point."
    "All right." Parker sat down on his own bed, flicked ashes into the nearest ashtray. "So now we wait two days."

6
    HANDY was driving. They were working the side streets, back and forth, Handy sitting casual at the wheel and Parker beside him, studying the parked cars. Menlo was back at the motel.
    It was seven-thirty Friday night, and already dark. The occasional major streets they crossed were full of slow-moving traffic, people heading downtown for a night out or uptown for a weekend out of town. The side streets were quiet, with few moving cars and only an occasional pedestrian.
    They'd been looking for twenty minutes, and finally Parker said, "There it is."
    Handy saw it too. He stopped the car.
    Parker got out and closed the door, and Handy drove the Pontiac away. Parker crossed the street and strolled down towards the car.
    It was a Cadillac, gleaming black, four or five years old. Being in this neighbourhood, it had to be on its second owner by now, or maybe third. Still, whoever owned it kept it clean. It wouldn't look out of place turning into Kapor's driveway.
    The street was empty. There were no faces in any of the house windows that Parker could see. He stopped next to the Cadillac and tried both doors. He was in luck; the rear one was unlocked. It was the rear door that people forgot most often. He hadn't needed the luck. He could have got into the Cadillac in thirty seconds even if it had been locked, but this way he didn't have to break the side vent. He opened the rear door slightly, reached around and pulled the front lock button by the front window. Then he shut the rear door, opened the front, and got in.
    He lay down on the seat and took out a pencil flash. He studied the underpart of the dashboard and found he would have to remove a small, flat plate. He put the flash away, got out a small screwdriver and, working by feel, removed the three screws that held the plate in place. Then he used the flash again, for ten seconds, and that was it. He sat up, slid over behind the wheel, and took a jumper wire out of his pocket, with sticky electric tape at both ends. He unpeeled part of the tape and then, working by feel once more, reached down under the dashboard and put the jumper on. The starter caught, and slipped, and caught again, and then the engine was purring. He put the automatic transmission in Drive, and pulled away.
    On Wisconsin Avenue there was a movie theatre, and there was a supermarket, and a blacktop parking lot between them. In the daytime the supermarket customers used the lot, and at night the movie customers used it. Parker drove there, parked the Cadillac so there was a space on his left, stalled the car, and removed the jumper wire. Then he got out and opened the hood. He stood looking down for a minute, and then went to work. It was now twenty minutes to eight.
    Handy and Menlo showed up in the Pontiac on schedule, at ten minutes to eight. They parked in the slot next to the Cadillac, and got out. Parker was just finishing. He closed the hood and said, "All ready."
    "Once again," Menlo said, looking at the Cadillac with distrust, "I can only reassure myself with the knowledge that you are professionals in this type of activity. The idea of driving to a robbery in an automobile just recently stolen would never have occurred to me. Having occurred to me, it would terrify me so completely I would reject it."
    "This car won't be hot for a couple of hours. By then we'll be done with it," Handy said.
    "I trust your judgment implicitly," Menlo assured him, "having seen you in action against those poor specimens supplied me by the Outfit. I have every confidence in you."
    "That's good. Get in the car," Parker said.
    "Most certainly."
    Menlo got in the back again, and Parker and Handy up front. There was now a set of wires by the steering shaft, ending in a small oblong fixture with a push-button. This was the new starter.