“Don’t you mean Admiral Halsey?

“I heard your granddad was a whaling captain. Kind of connected up in my mind with the admiral, I guess.”

“Town like this has got myths,” said Ethan. “Like they say people on my dad’s side did some pirating way back and my mother’s family came over in the Mayflower.”

“Ethan Allen,”

“Might be. Must be,” said Ethan. “What a day—ever see a prettier? What was it you wanted to see me about?”

“Oh, yes. I guess you’re closing the store twelve to three. Would you make me a couple of sandwiches about half past eleven? I’ll run in and get them. And a bottle of milk.”

“Bank’s not closing?”

“Bank is. I’m not. Little Joey’ll be right in there, chained to the books. Big weekend like this—everybody and his dog cashing checks.”

“I never thought of that,” said Ethan.

“Oh, sure. Easter, Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day—any long weekend. If I wanted to stick up a bank, I’d do it just before a long weekend. The stuff’s right there all laid out, waiting.”

“You ever get stuck up, Joey?”

“No. But I had a friend that did twice.”

“What did he say about it?”

“Said he was scared. Just took orders. Laid down on the floor and let ’em have it. Said the money was better insured than he was.”

“I’ll bring you the sandwiches when I close up. I’ll knock on the back door. What kind you want?”

“Don’t bother, Mr. Hawley. I’ll slip across the alley—one ham and one cheese on rye, lettuce and mayonnaise, and maybe one bottle of milk and a Coke for later.”

“Got some nice salami—that’s Marullo.”

“No, thanks. How’s the one-man Mafia holding up?”

“All right, I guess.”

“Well, even if you don’t like guineas, you got to admire a guy can build a pushcart into all the property he owns. He’s pretty cute. People don’t know how much he’s got salted away. Maybe I shouldn’t say that. Banker’s not supposed to tell.”