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It took Mr. Ketcham a long time to respond.
Come on, Ketcham. I know you’re in there, and I know you can’t get out.
“Who is it?” Ketcham finally inquired.
“Police, open up,” Prasko called.
The door opened.
“Is something wrong, Officer?” Ketcham asked.
“You know fucking well what’s wrong, Ketcham,” Prasko said, somewhat nastily.
He spun Ketcham around, then twisted his left hand and arm around his back and upward and propelled him into the room, where he pushed him facedown on the bed and quickly handcuffed him.
“May I say something?” Ketcham inquired.
“Don’t open your mouth. Don’t turn over, don’t even move,” Prasko said, and holstered his pistol.
Then he searched the room methodically until he found what he was looking for under the cushion in the room’s one armchair: two business-size envelopes held closed with rubber bands. Each was stuffed with ten rubber-band-bound sheafs of one-hundred-dollar bills, ten bills to a sheaf, for a total of $20,000.
Prasko put the envelopes on the table beside the armchair, then went to the bed and rolled Ketcham over.
“You got something to say?” he asked.
“I really have no idea what all this is—”
Prasko interrupted Ketcham by striking him with the back of his open hand.
“Bullshit time is over,” Prasko said.
“Am I under arrest?” Ketcham asked after a moment.
“Not yet.”
“Why don’t you take that money and leave?” Ketcham asked, reasonably.
Prasko considered the suggestion.
“Your father would be very embarrassed if you had to call him and tell him you had been arrested for dealing in drugs,” Prasko said. “It would probably cause him trouble at the bank.”
“Oh, Jesus!” Ketcham said.
“Who’s the girl?” Prasko asked.
“What girl?”
Prasko struck him again with the back of his hand.
“I already told you, bullshit time is over.”
“My girlfriend,” Ketcham said. “She doesn’t know anything about this. You could let her go.”
“What did you do,” Prasko inquired sarcastically, “tell her that tonight you were going to do something new? You were going to rent a motel room and go in, and she was going to sit outside in the car?”
“Take the money. Who’d ever know?” Ketcham said.
Prasko considered that again, then reached down and unlocked one of the handcuffs. He then motioned Ketcham to get to his feet.
