Chapter Three On the Spoor of the Story
"You listened to sounds because you could not see much. You listened for the sounds of cars on the street, the ticking of the clock, the shuffling of money and the grunts of the robber as he hefted a heavy bag of money onto his shoulder."
" I listened for nervous coughs."
"Then you counted them.”
“Just like gingersnaps."
"How many?"
"Twenty seven, including one by the bank robber. Nervous coughs are catching."
"I'd be nervous."
"I forgot to be scared."
"You did?"
"I became really annoyed. A truck with a broken muffler was stopped at the traffic light right outside and for the longest time, or so it seemed at the time, I couldn't hear a single cough. I forgot about being scared; I was merely annoyed."
“When you have something to do, you forget to be scared, I guess, Mary said."
"In the space of three minutes and forty seconds, I counted 27 nervous coughs. I also heard gasps, moans and the rapid breathing of scared customers and bank employees alike. I was as busy as all get out, let me tell you.”
“Almost as busy as the bank robber, I bet.”
“Could be.”
"Where was this bank?"
"At the corner of Wade and Go."
"How did the story end?"
"The bank robber ran out with a small bag of money."
"And he got clean away?"
"He did not even get the chance to pass Go, I am sorry to say."
"He didn't get the chance to pass Go?” Mary said incredulously.
“There were cops on every corner.”
“I know what happened next,” Mary said. “He went straight to jail.”
"And I went straight home, sat right down and wrote Cough up the Money."
"The editor did?"
"He most certainly did."
"Who says that crime does not pay?"