“Well, that tears it,” Fern said. “They’ve found whatever it was Artie wanted to move and brought in the cops. Any guess how long it will be before they find the money?”
“They didn’t go into the house,” Donald muttered. He scratched his crotch as he considered the situation. “Might still be able to pull it off.”
“Why don’t we walk past, see what they’re doing?” Fern was tired of sitting in the car. Even under the shade of the old oak and the windows down, the temperature was way past uncomfortable. She could feel Donald thinking, and the effort sent the temperature in the car up a few more degrees.
“Just wait a minute, Fern, they ain’t been gone that long.”
Fine. She’d tried to be nice. Now it was time to get nasty.
“I want to get out of this car, Donald,” Fern said with pointed calm.
