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in the time I had, I operated. I had a friend - just about the only person who stood by me - 

who worked for an investment company in Portland. He died about six years ago.' 

'Sorry.' 

'Yeah.' Andy tossed his butt away. 'Linda and I had about fourteen thousand dollars. Not 

a big bundle, but hell, we were young. We had our whole lives ahead of us.' He grimaced 

a little, then laughed. 'When the shit hit the fan, I started lugging my Rembrandts out of 

the path of the hurricane. I sold my stocks and paid the capital gains tax just like a good 

little boy. Declared everything. Didn't cut any corners.' 

'Didn't they freeze your estate?' 

'I was charged with murder, Red, not dead! You can't freeze the assets of an innocent 

man - thank God. And it was a while before they even got brave enough to charge me 

with the crime. Jim - my friend - and I, we had some time. I got hit pretty good, just 

dumping everything like that. Got my nose skinned. But at the time I had worse things to 

worry about than a small skinning on the stock market.' 

'Yeah, I'd say you did.' 

'But when I came to Shawshank it was all safe. It's still safe. Outside these walls, Red, 

there's a man that no living soul has ever seen face to face. He has a Social Security card 

and a Maine driver's license. He's got a birth certificate. Name of Peter Stevens. Nice, 

anonymous name, huh?' 

'Who is he?' I asked. I thought I knew what he was going to say, but I couldn't believe it. 

'Me.' 

'You're not going to tell me that you had time to set up a false identity while the bulls 

were sweating you,' I said, 'or that you finished the job while you were on trial for -' 

'No, I'm not going to tell you that. My friend Jim was the one who set up the false 

identity. He started after my appeal was turned down, and the major pieces of 

identification were in his hands by the spring of 1950.' 

'He must have been a pretty close friend,' I said. I was not sure how much of this I 

believed - a little, a lot, or none. But the day was warm and the sun was out, and it was 

one hell of a good story. 'All of that's one hundred per cent illegal, setting up a false ID 

like that.' 

'He was a close friend,' Andy said. 'We were in the war together. France, Germany, the 

occupation. He was a good friend. He knew it was illegal, but he also knew that setting 

up a false identity in this country is very easy and very safe. He took my money - my 

money with all the taxes on it paid so the IRS wouldn't get too interested - and invested it 

for Peter Stevens. He did that in 1950 and 1951. Today it amounts to three hundred and 

seventy thousand dollars, plus change.' 

I guess my jaw made a thump when it dropped against my chest, because he smiled. 

'Think of all the things people wish they'd invested in since 1950 or so, and two or three 

of them will be things Peter Stevens was into. If I hadn't ended up in here, I'd probably be 

worth seven or eight million bucks by now. I'd have a Rolls ... and probably an ulcer as 

big as a portable radio.' 

His hands went to the dirt and began sifting out more pebbles. They moved gracefully, 

restlessly.