Page 9 - A Bank Robbery
P. 9
It was about 5 p.m. when Sal phoned. He sounded sincerely sorry—but not at all confused or excited—as he explained he knew he was late but probably wouldn’t be coming to work at all.
Because, he said, “We’re holding up a bank.”
There was a radio behind the counter on
a shelf under the butterscotch fudge.
I turned it on, and here’s exactly what I heard:
