Free Shoot the Piano Player by David Goodis

while, but finally it's too much for him, and he's getting clumsy with the talk. We just stand there and look at him. Then he makes his pitch. He wants to know what our game is.',
"He said it kind of hungry-like," from Morris in the back seat.
"Yeah," Feather said. "Like he has it tabbed we're big time and he's looking for an in. You know how it is with these has-beens, they all want to get right up there again."
"Not all of them," the waitress said. And just for a moment she glanced at Eddie. And then, turning again to Feather, "You were saying?"
"Well, we didn't give him anything, just some nowhere talk that only made him hungrier. And then, just tossing it away, as if it ain't too important, I mention our friend here who knocked down them beer cases. It was a long shot, sure. But it paid off." He smiled congenially at Eddie. "It paid off real nice."
"That Plyne," the waitress said. "That Plyne and his big mouth."
"He got paid off, too," Feather said. "I slipped him a half-C for the info."
"That fifty made his eyes pop," Morris said.
"And made him greedy for more." Feather laughed lightly. "He asked us to come around again. He said if there was anything more he could do, we should call on him and--"
"The pig,' she said. "The filthy pig."
Feather went on laughing. He looked over his shoulder, saying to Morris, "Come to think of it, that's what he looked like. I mean, when he went for the fifty. Like a pig going for slop--"
Morris pointed toward the windshield. "Watch where you're going."
Feather stopped laughing. "Who's got the wheel?"
"You got the wheel," Morris said. "But look at all the snow, it's freezing. We don't have chains."
"We don't need chains," Feather said. "We got snow tires."
"Well, even so," Morris said, "you better drive careful."
Again Feather looked at him. "You telling me how to drive?"
"For Christ's sake," Morris said. "I'm only telling you--"
"Don't tell me how to drive. I don't like when they tell me how to drive."
"When it snows, there's always accidents," Morris said. "We wanna get where we're going--"
"That's a sensible statement," Feather said. "Except for one thing. We don't know where we're going yet."
Then he glanced inquiringly at Eddie.
Eddie was listening to the music from the radio.
Feather reached toward the instrument panel and switched off the radio. He said to Eddie, "We'd like to know where we're going. You wanna help us out on that a little?"
Eddie shrugged. "I told you, I don't know where he is."
"You haven't any idea? No idea at all?"
"It's a big city," Eddie said. "It's a very big city."
"Maybe he ain't in the city," Feather murmured.
Eddie blinked a few times. He was looking straight ahead. He sensed that the waitress was watching him.
Feather probed gently. "I said maybe he ain't in the city. Maybe he's in the country."
"What?" Eddie said. All right, he told himself. Easy, now. Maybe he's guessing.
"The country," Feather said. "Like, say, in New Jersey." That does it, Eddie thought. That wasn't a guess. "Or let's tighten it a little." Feather said. "Let's make it South Jersey."
Now Eddie looked at Feather. He didn't say anything. The waitress sat there between them, quiet and relaxed, her hands folded in her lap.
Morris said, sort of mockingly, with pretended ignorance, "What's this with South Jersey? What's in South Jersey?"
"Watermelons," Feather said. "That's where they grow them."
"The melons?" Morris was playing straight man. "Who grows them?"
"The farmers, stupid. There's a lotta farmers in South Jersey. There's all these little farms, these watermelon patches '
"Where?"
"Whaddya mean, where? I just told you where. In South Jersey."
"The watermelon trees?"
"Pipe that," Feather said to the two front-seat passengers. "He thinks they grow on trees." And then, to Morris, "They grow in the ground. Like lettuce."
"Well, I've seen them growing lettuce, but never watermelons. How come I ain't seen the watermelons?"
"You didn't look."
"Sure I looked. I always look at the scenery.