Long White Con

by Iceberg Slim

  Shortly, the mark showed back. Folks heard him anguishing about. Folks went into a deep slumber bit when he heard him approach his door. The mark eased it open and just stood there. Christ! This is eerie, Folks thought. And dangerous! I know that a guy with his documented malice, under stress, could brainstorm and try to do me maximal harm if the tumblers of the swindle accidently clicked into place inside his head. I couldn’t really win a death bout with him. Say I managed to kill him, my purse would be the death house. But the mark shut the door.

  Folks soundlessly locked the door. He had selected the suite in a wing of the hotel that gave visual access to the lobby. He put high-powered binoculars to his eyes and saw Kid sitting casually, smoking a cigarette in the moderately crowded lobby. He was gazing across the lobby through a window at the early morning crunch of workers scampering to their jobs.

  A morning newspaper delivery truck pulled to the curb outside the hotel. The delivery man leapt from the cab of the truck with a bundle of papers, then went to the concession stand. He placed his bundle of newspapers into a rack adjacent to the concession stand, then carried a surplus of three newspapers away under his arm as he came across the lobby on his way to the exit.

  Kid snapped his fingers at the passing delivery man. The delivery man rolled one of the papers quickly as he turned and took the paper to Kid in exchange for a coin, then turned away. Kid spread the legitimate newspaper across his knees. Folks watched Kid take their prop newspaper from his coat pocket.

  Then his binoculars followed Kid as he flung the legit newspaper into a trash can. He moved across the lobby and went to the newspaper rack at the concession stand. A young female clerk smiled at him behind the counter as Kid plucked several cigars from a box. At the same time, his other hand slipped the prop newspaper into the newspaper rack atop the pile. Then Kid placed money on the counter. He turned his head and snapped his fingers.

  A bellboy came to Kid’s side beside the newspaper rack. Kid pulled his prop newspaper from the rack and folded the headlines inside. Then he snapped a rubber band about the rolled paper, gave it, and a dollar bill to the bellboy. Kid purchased all the morning newspapers and went through the front door. He was going to shred them and dump them into an alley trash bin.

  The blow-off was in motion! Folks waited to hear the doorbell chime. Five minutes later, he heard the chimes. He cracked the door as the mark opened the front door.

  The bellboy said, “Mister Remington’s morning paper, sir.”

  The mark took the paper and slammed the door in his face. He opened the newspaper and scrutinized it as Folks eyed him from his bed. The mark came toward him and sat on the side of the bed. Folks shifted so his face was turned away. His breathing was heavy and deep as he faked sleep. He shook Folks’ shoulder and Folks stirred and groaned. He turned, with cloudy eyes, to face the mark.

  He said, “What’s going on, Cecil?”

  Cecil spread out the newspaper on the bed. Folks propped himself up on an elbow as he studied the front page.

  He read aloud, “State troopers quizzed in theft of ghost town millions . . . ten millions recovered in ravine. Troopers blame a mysterious nocturnal group for theft of secret hoard. Murdered Aztec Billy is suspected of the multiple murders of mining cronies during the past thirty years in Mexico and in Nevada. Robbery is theorized as the motive for the series of homicide.”

  Then, he paused to read the bold print of a related item. “At his interrogation, fifteen thousand dollars in cash was confiscated from Jimmy Dancing Rain, brother of deceased Aztec Billy, by Treasury Department agents.”

  Cecil snarled, “Those rotten, crooked state police! I could kill them!”

  Folks leapt to his feet. He went to the closet and pulled out his bags. He started to speed dress as the mark stared at him with jaws loose.

  He said, “Alex! What on earth are you doing?”

  Folks said, “Going home! I’ve got a respectable reputation and family to protect. You can be certain, Cecil, the government is going to root out and smear everybody’s name connected to those millions of dollars and a murder victim!”

  Cecil sat on the edge of the bed with a shocked look on his face as he removed the phony quit claim deed and bill of sale for Kid’s set-up ghost town. He balled up and crushed the documents in his fists.

  He said, “I better call today and stop payment on that check I gave Jimmy for the ghost town.”

  Folks rushed to face him. He said, “Cecil! Compose yourself! You can’t stop payment on a check for seventy-five thousand dollars without drawing dangerous attention. Furthermore, you’re mangling your ninety-thousand-dollar receipt.”

  Cecil opened his fists and stared at the crumpled documents in his palm. He said, “You really think Jimmy Dancing Rain would refund my ninety thousand . . . with all this trouble?”

  Folks took the documents. He ironed them flat on the bed with his palms, then he slipped them into his coat pocket. He leaned down into Cecil’s face and said, “You’re unbelievable, Cecil!”

  Stilwell said, “What?”

  Folks said, “I can’t understand why you don’t understand, as I understand that Jimmy Dancing Rain is a fine gentleman of integrity. I’m catching the first plane to Connecticut.”

  Folks finished dressing and packing loose odds and ends. Cecil followed him around the room.

  He said, “Alex, maybe it would be smart for me to leave, too . . . after I see Jimmy.”

  Folks said, “Cecil, do that so I can fly to Indiana next week to close our deal.”

  They heard the insistent chimes of the doorbell and Stilwell said, “I hope that’s Jimmy!”

  He hurried to the door and opened it to Kid. Kid stepped in and slammed shut the door behind him. He had a sad, forlorn expression on his face.

  The mark said, “It’s doomsday, Jimmy!”

  He shoved the prop newspaper toward Kid. Kid took it and shoved it into his pocket.

  Kid said, “I read it. My brother a murderer. The government has impounded Billy’s millions.”

  The mark said, “You have my sympathy, Jimmy, but I’ve got big troubles, too!”

  Kid put his arm around Stilwell’s shoulder. He said, “Of course you have, Cecil.”

  Kid led the mark to a seat on the sofa. Folks followed and sat down with them.

  Kid said, “The troubled must protect and comfort one another. Now, Cecil, in a calm way tell me how I can help you?”

  The mark babbled, “I’m . . . a . . . respectable father and husband back home. I’m a thirty-third degree Mason. I’m the biggest, most respected citizen there is in Muncie, Indiana. I can’t afford to wreck my image, my family, with notoriety or scandal! My connection with murder through our deal . . . I . . . ah, well, oh Jimmy!”

  Kid said, “Cecil, I can protect you. After all, I am at this moment the legal owner of record of the ghost town. I was interviewed by two treasury agents for hours. I had to come to you as immediately as I safely could to relieve your mind.”

  The mark said, “Jimmy, you mean you didn’t mention my name to them?”

  Kid said, “Certainly not, Cecil!”

  Tears brimmed in the mark’s eyes. “Oh thank you so much, Jimmy. Now, about our ghost town deal . . . I . . . uh . . .”

  Kid patted his shoulder and said, “Your worries are over, Cecil.”

  Kid extracted the mark’s seventy-five thousand dollar instrument from his shirt pocket. He waved it, face up, before the mark’s eyes to verify authenticity. Kid turned and leaned forward toward the coffee table, his back momentarily blocked the mark’s field of vision. Kid palmed the real check and slipped it into his jacket breast pocket. He slipped out, from the same pocket, a replica of the mark’s check. Then Kid leaned back on the sofa to unobstruct the sucker’s field of vision. He tore the prop check to confetti that fell into a large ashtray. The mark flung himself across the sofa to embrace the Kid like an amorous elephant while Kid massaged the mark’s shoulders.

  Kid said, “Cecil, I gave
my lawyer your address in Muncie and instructed him to send your confiscated fifteen thousand in cash within thirty days. He has assured me that the government can’t keep it.”

  The mark said, “Jimmy, you’re a beautiful friend!”

  Kid disengaged himself. He said, “Now Cecil, our final ceremony. My deed and bill of sale.”

  The mark reached into his coat pocket and extracted the battered deed and bill of sale. He extended them to Kid, who took them and shredded them into the ashtray.

  Folks stood up, bags in hand. He said, “Well, gentlemen, good-bye and good luck.”

  Folks shook hands with them.

  The sucker nodded toward the ashtray and said, “My boy, I’ve just had good luck to remember a lifetime!”

  Folks left to supervise a grifter crew to dismantle the ghost town and truck it into the mob’s warehouse until they caught the next mark to play.

  SUCKER BRAINSTORM

  Folks went straight home after the crew had disappeared the ghost town. Pearl was delighted to see him back from the L.A. trip so soon. Folks thought, she owes her delight, of course, to the Kid’s tear up in the blow-off. It made it unnecessary to keep Stilwell tied up in town until his score instrument cleared.

  That early evening he undelighted Pearl. Speedy and Janie were in for whist. Pearl and he were beating squawking hell out of them for the first time in a month. Then Folks’ apprehension about Pappy Kid soured their fortunes. Folks played several successive hands like a novice. He wasn’t, and Pearl knew it. They started yapping at each other. Janie and Speedy, of course, started having fun by skunking them soundly.

  Folks thought, Pappy is booked to put Stilwell on an eight-thirty plane for the Midwest. I’m worried. He remembered the fatal propensities of Mister Stilwell and decided he had to be present. Not really present, he thought, but within reasonable proximity, until the mark is blown off on that plane.

  Pearl gave him an odd look when he announced he was breaking up the card party to catch some air. To immunize his dear, precious Pearl from a tail-spin into an attack of her chronic illness, he invited Speedy to tag along. On the way out, he picked up his binoculars from a table near the door.

  He drove Pearl’s Mercury for a change. Since I’m back to my normal blond image, the mark can’t recognize me just like that, he thought. Folks knew the Kid was sticking to the mark like Elmer’s Glue, and most likely keeping the mark close to the environs of his hotel until plane time. He parked in the hotel parking lot and scouted a bit. Sure enough, Kid and the mark were in the hotel coffee shop. He went back and pulled out to a parking spot across the street from the coffee shop’s plate glass window. His Patek Phillippe read seven-forty-five P.M.

  Within five minutes they came out to the cab stand with a bellman and Stilwell’s luggage. He and Speedy followed them to the airport. Speedy stayed in the Mercury near the terminal entrance.

  Folks was confident the mark couldn’t recognize him. That is, he thought, unless I promenaded for him long enough to top my gait. He followed them to the second floor, at maybe a twenty-five yard range, until they reached the waiting section for upcoming departures. He went to the john adjacent to the pre-boarding section. He glanced out the window overlooking the field. The mark’s plane was easing toward the embarkation tunnel on the side of the building.

  He decided to risk close proximity. He took a seat in the crowded cattle pen room directly behind Stilwell. This is fun with my back almost touching the mark’s, Folks thought.

  The Kid gave him a dirty look for screwing around like that. Kid knew, of course, why Folks had shown up. He always pretended to be turned off by any sentimentality or protective emotional action from his bosom friends.

  The clerk behind his box picked up a mike and announced, “Flight 56 now ready for boarding of passengers for Chicago, Peoria and Muncie, Indiana.”

  Kid and the mark stood up, shook hands and embraced. Folks was sure he should have stayed with his woman’s whist to keep the peace.

  The mark said, “I’ll never forget you, Jimmy. I hate to say good-bye.”

  Kid said, “It isn’t good-bye, Cecil. I’ll fly out to Muncie for some of that fabulous cuisine at your restaurants that you so delightfully boast about.”

  The mark moved with the tide and said, “That’s a wonderful idea, Jimmy. Do it soon!”

  Kid said, “Soon, laddie, soon!”

  Before the mark was absorbed into the crunch of departees, he turned and waved a final goodbye. Folks thought it was good-bye.

  Kid said to Folks, ventriloquist style, “You lop-eared jack-off!”

  Sweet old guy, the Kid, Folks thought as they went to a newsstand across the corridor for cigars and cigarettes. They made their purchases and turned away. Folks turned back to the newspaper rack to take evening papers to Pearl and Speedy, tossed the exact coins on the counter for the clerk and glanced at the headline as he joined Kid.

  “Detente Threatened,” it read.

  It was the morning paper with that bold type in a square designation at the top of the front page. He said something to Kid about passe morning news as he went back for the evening paper.

  The clerk noticed him rummaging the rack. He said, “Sorry sir, delivery of the evening paper is fouled up.”

  The clerk returned his coins. He collided with a winsome stewardess, apparently late for her flight. She tossed what looked like an airlines voucher on the counter and snatched up magazines and most of the morning papers.

  The clerk turned from a customer and, as he picked up the voucher, started to shout at the stewardess. He shrugged as he decided it was useless. She had raced through the departure pen across the corridor into the door leading to the ramp.

  The clerk glanced at Folks and muttered, “What the diff? Her customers can’t beef about stale morning news. She’s giving it away.”

  It hit Folks! He shoved Kid and said, “Get to Speedy in Pearl’s Mercury out front! That late stewardess is taking the morning paper on flight 56.” Kid ashened and said, “I can’t believe this!” He moved out and down the corridor as Folks double-timed it down the corridor to the window of the john overlooking the field. He zeroed in on the interior of the flight 56 bird with his binoculars.

  The mark was sitting relaxed in his seat. His head was thrown back on the headrest cushion. His eyes were closed. He didn’t move, just opened his eyes when the stewardess reached him with her handouts. He smiled up at her and waved off her offer and she went down the aisle. He started to close his eyes, then he opened them and called her back. She gave him a paper and went down the aisle.

  Stilwell casually flipped the newspaper open. He spread it across his lap and he stared down at it. His face transformed into maniacal rage as he leapt to his feet. His teeth flashed like fangs when he screamed. The mark was brainstorming, all right. The tumblers of the swindle had clicked into place inside his head.

  He charged down the aisle in pursuit of the stewardess as the startled stewardess turned to face him. He snatched a newspaper from her and held it very close to his face as he stared at it. Then he hurled the newspaper into the aisle and snatched another newspaper. He stared at it and waggled his head furiously, then sailed the paper into the air and the aircraft started to taxi. Stilwell’s teeth flashed as he hollered something.

  He hurtled down the aisle past mesmerized passengers to the front exit door where a burly male flight attendant blocked his path. With the skill and violence of the ex-all American guard that he was, he linebacked the steward away to his fanny on the floor, slammed his fist down on the door lock and jumped through the opened door.

  He hit the ground and tumbled before he regained his feet and charged wildly across the field toward the terminal building. He was obviously in pursuit of Pappy!

  Folks bolted from the john. It took him only seconds to reach the first floor main corridor. He spotted Cecil bulling his way through alarmed people, bowling several over as he grenaded his thirteens toward the street exit. Folks reached the sidew
alk seconds behind him. Speedy was just pulling from the curb.

  The mark spotted Kid. He raced alongside the Mercury and bellowed, “You cocksucker! You swindled me! I’ll kill you!”

  He leapt to the hood and smashed his fists against the windshield. Speedy turned sharply and the mark skittered off the hood onto the street. A mob of city and airport police descended on the mark.

  Folks watched Speedy accelerate the Mercury out of sight, then he got a cab for Kid’s place. The Kid and Speedy were cool as the snow they were snorting when he joined them. He horned in for a couple of sparkling rows.

  Kid lit one of his Corona Corona’s, blew a gust of powder blue smoke and said, “Laddie, the police are putting that goniff through the wringer. But he’ll convince them that he has a legit complaint. I just completed a call to Captain Ellis. He’s expecting you.”

  Kid took an envelope from a pocket of his silk lounging robe and gave it to Folks.

  He said, “Get this ten percent of the score end to the captain quickly . . . before that mark can beef officially.”

  Folks left immediately and went to the apartment house cab stand. Fifteen minutes later, a uniformed cop showed him into Captain Ellis’ office. The graying captain of bunco was sitting behind his ornate desk in the well-appointed office, sipping coffee. Folks walked to the front of his desk.

  He smiled his barracuda smile. “Congratulations! Glad to see you escaped great bodily harm.”

  Folks said, “Thank you, Captain Ellis. But the situation never really got out of hand at the airport.”

  Folks reached into his coat pocket to extract the pay-off envelope. He leaned toward the captain and placed it on the desk top. The captain ignored the envelope.

  Folks said, “There’s Kid’s full premium . . . ten percent of ninety thousand dollars . . . for the Stilwell coverage.”

  The captain took a sip of coffee and dabbed a linen handkerchief against his heavy lips before he said, “I don’t know about that. Perhaps I shouldn’t issue a policy on Stilwell for ten percent.”