“Sleep?”

“Uh-huh, and the sooner the better. You take the bed, I’ll take the couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “I’ll take the couch. Except I won’t because I don’t want to go to sleep and I can’t stay here anyway. They said they would call me in the morning.”

“That’s why I want you to get to sleep. So you’ll be clearheaded when they call.”

“Bernie, I got news for you. I’m not gonna be clearheaded in the morning. I’m gonna have a head like a soccer ball that Pelé got pissed at.”

“Well, I’ll be clearheaded,” I said, “and one head is better than none. The aspirin’s in the medicine cabinet.”

“What a clever place for it. I bet you’re the kind of guy who keeps milk in the fridge and soap in the soap dish.”

“I’ll fix you a hot toddy.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? I have to be at my place for when they call.”

“They’ll call here.”

“Why would they do that?”

“Because you don’t have a quarter of a million dollars,” I said, “and who could mistake you for David Rockefeller? So if they want a hefty ransom for Archie they must expect you to steal it, and that means they must know you’ve got a friend in the stealing business, and that means they’ll call here. Drink this and take your aspirin and get ready for bed.”

“I didn’t bring pajamas. Have you got a shirt or something that I can sleep in?”

“Sure.”

“And I’m not sleepy. I’ll just toss and turn, but I guess that’s all right.”

Five minutes later she was snoring.

CHAPTER Five

Asign on the counter said the suggested contribution was $2.50. “Contribute more or less if you prefer,” it counseled, “but you must contribute something.” The chap immediately in front of us plunked down a dime. The attendant started to tell him about the suggested contribution, but our lad wasn’t open to suggestion.

“Read your own sign, sonny,” he said sourly. “How many times do I have to go through this with you vermin? You’d think it was coming out of your own pockets. They haven’t got you on commission, have they?”