Drowned Hopes Read Free

with?” Dortmunder asked. “Getting that casket full of money back out of Putkin’s Corners?”

    “That’s where I need help, all right,” Tom agreed.

    “It doesn’t sound like it should be that much trouble,” Dortmunder assured him, thinking Tom meant that, now he was seventy years old, he wasn’t up to all the digging and lifting required.

    But Tom shook his head, saying, “A little harder than you might think, Al. You see, about four years after I went up, a while before you come in to be my cellmate, the state of New York condemned all that land and houses and four villages up there, including Putkin’s Corners, and made everybody move away. And then the city of New York bought up all that land, and they threw a dam across partway down the valley, and they made themselves another reservoir for all you people down here.”

    “Oh,” Dortmunder said.

    “So that’s why I need help,” Tom explained. “Because as it stands right now, that stash of mine is under three feet of dirt and fifty feet of water.”

    “Ah,” Dortmunder said. “Not easy.”

    “Not impossible,” Tom said. “So here’s the deal I’d like to offer. You got a head on your shoulders, Al —”

    “Thanks,” Dortmunder said.

    “So you come into this with me,” Tom finished. “We get that box of mine out of Putkin’s Corners, you and me and whoever else it takes, and when we get it we split down the middle. Half for me, and half for you, and you share your half how you like with whoever else you bring in. Three hundred fifty thousand. I can live to be an old man on that much, especially down in Mexico. What do you say?”

    “Interesting,” Dortmunder said, thinking he’d like to know more about the problems that had afflicted Tom’s partners in the original robbery, leaving him sole possessor of the seven hundred thousand dollars. But thinking also that at seventy Tom was probably not quite as dangerous as he’d been at forty–three or forty–four, when the robbery had taken place. And thinking beyond that to the amount of money itself, and the hassle he’d just gone through tonight for petty cash out of a check–cashing place with a bad–tempered dog. He didn’t know exactly how you went about digging up a casket from fifty feet down in the bottom of a reservoir, but let’s just say he had to bring in two or three other guys, say three other guys; that still left nearly a hundred thousand apiece. And there are no dogs in a reservoir.

    Tom was saying, “Now, you probably want to get some sleep —”

    “Yeah, I’m due,” Dortmunder admitted.

    “So maybe this afternoon, early afternoon, we could drive on up and I could show you the place. It’s about two hours up from the city.”

    “This afternoon?” Dortmunder echoed, thinking he’d like to sleep a little longer than that. The check–cashing place’s dog had kind of taken it out of him.

    “Well, the sooner the better, you know,” Tom said.

    May said, “John? Are you going to do this?”

    Dortmunder knew that May had taken an aversion to Tom Jimson — most human beings did — but on the other hand there were all those advantages he’d just been thinking about, so he said, “I’ll take a look at it anyway, May, see how it seems.”

    “If you think you should,” May said. The air around her words vibrated with all the other words she wasn’t saying.

    “I’ll just take a look,” Dortmunder assured her, and faced Tom again to say, “Where are you staying now?”

    “Well,” Tom said, “until I get my stash out of Putkin’s Corners, that sofa you’re sitting on’s about as good a place as any.”

    “Ah,” Dortmunder said, while beside him May’s cheekbones turned to concrete. “In that case,” Dortmunder said, “I guess we better drive up and take a look this afternoon.”

THREE
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    After the Thruway exit, the road took them through North Dudson, a very small town full of cars driven with extreme slowness by