Free Cinderella by Ed McBain

twentieth of June. The kind of boat Jimmy had in mind was a cigarette. Which could outrun the Coast Guard, if Larkin followed his drift. Larkin followed his drift perfectly, not for nothing were they brothers. Jimmy and his friends were expecting another shipment, of what Larkin didn't want to know. Larkin made a point of never asking Jimmy about business. That way, Larkin stayed clean. Every once in a while, Jimmy asked him for the use of a boat. Larkin always said what he said now.
        "If somebody accidentally left the keys in one of the boats, and somebody came in and used it, I wouldn't know anything about it. It comes back safe and sound, that's terrific. It gets blown out of the water, I didn't even know it was gone."
        "Yeah, that's cool," Jimmy said.
        Forty-two years old, Larkin thought, and he looks like a fat spic, and he buys his clothes in the discount joints lining 41, and he still talks like a teenager. Yeah, that's cool. Jesus!
        "Then we pick it up that night sometime, that's cool with you, huh?"
        "If I don't know anything about it," Larkin said.
        "But the keys'll be in one of the cigarettes, huh?"
        "It's possible keys could get left in a boat by mistake."
        "Sure, I dig," Jimmy said.
        I dig, Larkin thought. Jesus!
        The men sat in the sunshine drinking beer.
        "I hear you're searchin' for some broad," Jimmy said.
        Larkin looked at him.
        "A Miami hooker," Jimmy said.
        Larkin said nothing.
        "Stole your watch," Jimmy said.
        "Where'd you hear that?" Larkin said.
        "You remember Jackie? Jackie Pasconi, his mother used to run the candy store downstairs when we were kids in New York? Jackie? Pasconi? Whose brother got stabbed up in Attica? Don't you remember Jackie?"
        "What about him?"
        "What he does sometimes, he works-he used to work-for this guy got shot here last Sunday. This Jewish guy, I forget his name. Jackie done work for him in Miami."
        "What kind of work?"
        "Like listening around, you know? Like a snitch, sort of, but not really, 'cause this wasn't for the cops, it was for this Jewish private eye, what the fuck's his name, I can't think of his name right now."
        "Samalson," Larkin said.
        "Yeah, right, Samuelson."
        "So?" Larkin said.
        "So I run into Jackie at the dogs, he starts tellin' me my brother hired this private eye to find this hooker ran off with his solid gold Rolex, that's what Jackie tells me."
        Larkin looked at him again.
        "Is it true?" Jimmy asked. "That a hooker took you for five bills plus the gold Rolex?"
        "No, I didn't pay her nothing," Larkin said. "I didn't even know she was a pro."
        "But she got your watch though."
        "Yeah."
        "Walked off with the watch, huh?"
        "It was on the dresser."
        "You musta been sleepin', huh?"
        "Yeah."
        "This was when, in the morning?"
        "Yeah."
        "She was gone when you woke up, huh?"
        "Yeah."
        "With the watch."
        "Yeah."
        "So why'd you go to a private eye? Whyn't you come to me? I'm your brother, I coulda taken care of this for you."
        "Well."
        "Better'n any fuckin' private eye, that's for sure. Who got himself killed, by the way."
        "Well."
        "You think she mighta done it?"
        "I know she did," Larkin said.
        "Killed him? No shit?"
        "No, no, I thought you meant-"
        "Oh, the watch, sure. But you don't think she killed him, huh?"
        "Who the fuck knows what she did," Larkin said.
        One thing he knew for sure, she'd stolen his watch. The other thing he knew for sure… well, the other thing was something he hadn't even told Samalson, and he sure as hell wasn't going to tell his brother, either. Nor anybody. Ever. Fucking little bitch! He wondered now, sitting in the sunshine on the