Free Runaway by Ed McBain

front door. He kept the night latch on. A man in Barney’s position never knew when a caller would be carrying a loaded gun. He unlocked the door and opened it to the extent the chain permitted.
    He was not happy with what he saw standing in the hallway.
    â€œJohnny,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œEverybody asks me the same question,” Johnny said.
    Barney looked over his shoulder toward the living room. The Flower was telling another joke, and Bart was listening respectfully. Bart never laughed. Bart only listened, and then maybe smiled if the joke was immensely funny.
    â€œYou’d better go, boy,” Barney said. “This ain’t the place for you.”
    â€œI’m cut, Barney. I’m cut bad. I ain’t had anything to eat since—”
    â€œBoy, your troubles don’t interest me none. I got important people in here. If you led the cops to—”
    â€œThe cops are nowhere around,” Johnny said. “I’ve been careful. Look, Barney—”
    â€œJust a minute, boy,” Barney said. He looked over his shoulder again, and then took the chain from its socket. He stepped out into the hallway and closed the door softly and rapidly behind him.
    â€œWhat d’you mean, you’re cut?” he asked.
    â€œMy arm,” Johnny said. “I just stopped the bleeding.”
    Barney glanced at the bloodstained shirt. “You been to a doctor?”
    â€œHow can I go to a doctor? The cops are looking for me. You know that.”
    â€œMan, do I know it! You can ruin me by comin’ here, Johnny. You shoulda had more sense than that.”
    â€œI need a coat, Barney, a jacket, anything. It’s cold out there.”
    â€œWait here,” Barney said. “Don’t move from that spot, and for God’s sake, don’t make any noise.”
    He opened the door quickly and stepped into the apartment again. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a clean white handkerchief, and then he forced a smile onto his face. He was chuckling when he entered the living room.
    â€œWho’s that?” The Flower asked.
    â€œDamn’est thing ever,” Barney said, smiling. “Cleanin’ boy. I promised to bring my overcoat in, an’ I forgot all about it. Tailor thought I might need it, so he sent the boy up for it. Promised to have it back for me tomorrow.”
    â€œThat’s thoughtful,” Bart said.
    â€œYeah, sure is. ’Scuse me a minute while I get it, will you?”
    He walked out of the living room and into his bedroom. In the living room, Bart said, “You don’t run ’cross thoughtful people much. Not in this racket.”
    â€œThe tailor ain’t in this racket,” The Flower said, laughing.
    Barney walked to his closet and opened the door. He had three overcoats, but he certainly wasn’t going to give Johnny either of the two camel’s-hair jobs. He took an old tweed coat from its hanger and started for the door again. He stopped short, considered for a moment, and then took a fiver from his wallet. He folded the bill and stuck it into the pocket of the coat. In the living room, The Flower was laughing at something else he’d just uttered. Bart was saying nothing.
    Barney went into the living room. “You can deal the nex’ hand, if you like,” he said. “This won’t take a minute.”
    â€œIt’s already dealt,” The Flower said. “You got a king in the hole.”
    Barney laughed, and Bart said, “I don’t get it.”
    The Flower began explaining why it was funny for him to know what Barney’s hole card was, and Barney went to the door, opening it and stepping into the hallway again.
    â€œHere’s a coat,” he whispered. “I stuck a fin into one of the pockets. Now get out of here, boy.”
    â€œThanks, Barney. Thanks a—”
    â€œSkip it. Just scram. And listen, don’t go