“So you followed me onto the plane, is that it?”
“Yes. I happened to see you walk through the bank with your hat and coat and overnight bag and get into the airport taxi. I recognized you right away. So, I followed you to the airport and bought a seat on the same flight.”
He nodded, his face expressionless. “Two thousand dollars?”
“That’s all. And I have no collateral, Mr. Colbaugh.” He allowed himself a tight smile. “You told Shiner to put me out that day, Dickson. He clubbed me with a gun. And remember I was just a kid.”
“I know it. And I’m not proud of it. But think of it this way, Mr. Colbaugh. Wasn’t your successful prevention of that bank robbery the first thing that made your bank management really notice you and Sampson? Isn’t that what triggered the whole series of promotions that led you both to the top jobs you have today?”
I watched him narrowly, temporarily forgetting to breathe. For this was the only weapon I could use in my second hold-up of Colbaugh.
He didn’t say anything for a minute, thinking it over. Then, his lips curled up a trifle, and I began to breathe again.
“You know,” he said, “I think you’re right, Dickson. It was through you that I first drew favorable notice at the bank. I never thought of it like that before, but in a sort of cockeyed way, I suppose I owe you something for it. And so does Sampson.
“How about a thousand dollars apiece? You could call it a personal loan, Mr. Colbaugh. And I’ll pay it back.”
He made up his mind quickly. “I believe you will, at that,” he said. He got out his checkbook and wrote out a check to cash for two thousand dollars. As he handed it to me, and we shook hands, he said curiously, “Why’d you bring me in here? Why not brace me in the plane or out in the lobby?”
I looked around at the bare white-tiled walls of the washroom and grinned at him. “No Venetian blinds in here,” I said.
PASSAGE TO BEIRUT, by H. B. Hickey
Originally published in Mammoth Mystery, March 1946.
“Monsieur, I queet! Eeef I am not supply with the finest eengredients I cannot accept responsibility for resolts. I queet!”
Pierre’s moustache quivered in righteous wrath and his chef’s hat jiggled from side to side.
I tried to calm him. “Whoa, Pierre. I’m no goof. I wouldn’t hire a chef for twenty G’s a year and then try to skimp on a couple of bucks and ruin his cooking. But I’ll be goddamned”—my own voice rose to a shriek—“if we haven’t got the fanciest garbage this side of Buckingham Palace!”
My anger seemed to have a soothing effect on him. Pierre’s voice dropped three octaves.
“Then eet is settled. I shall preside over the kitchen, and you, monsieur, over the gaming tables.” He bowed himself out.
Licked again. I hadn’t won an argument with Pierre since I’d lured him away from the Ritz. I buzzed for Diane and in a second she bounced in. Right away I felt better. I made a tentative pass at her and she ducked.
“What’ll you have?” she wanted to know.
“Do me a favor, hon: take these lousy grocery bills out of here and tell that auditor not to bother me with them again unless we’re losing dough on the food.”
Sometimes it got me down. When I was running that little book joint I was happy and when I finally worked my way up to a commission office and made four bills a week, I thought Rothstein wasn’t in it with me. Now nine times four was a bad week and I had a headache all the time. Still, it wasn’t too tough to sit behind this big desk and have a gorgeous doll to take letters, and in the evening I could go downstairs and mingle with the ritzy mob who came to eat our “cuisine” and stayed to drop their dough at the tables. Hell, some of those guys ran steel mills and didn’t make my dough.
Diane gave me a buzz and I flipped the switch and asked her what gave. “There’s a gu—a gentleman to see you. The name is Antonelli.”
“Send him in.”
One look at the mug who walked in and I could tell grief was right behind him. I got up fast and took the hairy hand he shoved at me. He was about my height but a lot heavier, maybe two-twenty, and he had a real gut on him. His clothes were expensive but loud.
He gave me a quick once over and grinned. “My name’s Antonelli. Maybe you heard of me. From Detroit.”
I nodded. “I’ve heard of you, all right. What brings you to this part of the country?”
He sat down. “Mind if I sit?” He smiled with his mouth. “Nice spot you got here. Oughta be doing good for yourself.” His mouth quit smiling. “Tell you, fella, I got kinda tired of Detroit and figgered to come down here and see if I couldn’t do me some good. Maybe pick up a nice spot—say like this—and settle down.”
I said nothing.
“I see you catch on quick, pal. That’s good. Let’s talk business. I’m willing to buy this joint, see? I got one offer. Hundred grand. Take it or leave it.” Antonelli looked down to flick off an imaginary piece of lint.
“You know it’s worth five times that. What if I leave it?”
His eyes came up slowly and he showed me his teeth with that phony grin. “You wouldn’t want to do that, pal. I like this town. I’m moving in.”
I wanted to kick his teeth down his fat throat for him. “Yeah. I catch on quick all right. Now I know how come Eddie Gray got his head blown off last week. And how come that dope mob the F.B.I. was looking for was shot to hell. And how it happened Galler from the West Side was found full of shotgun slugs the other day.”
“You got me wrong, pal. Me and the boys have been in Detroit for months. We can prove it.”
I was getting wound up. “You listen to me,” I said, “I happen to be in with the chief of police in this town, and with everybody else who’s got anything to say. You lay off me or you’ll catch grief!”
He got up. “We’ll see, pal.” I got the grin again. “Took it easy.”
He closed the door gently and I heard him say goodbye toots to Diane.
Well, there it was. Take it or leave it. True, Gorren, the head copper, was on my side. Still—he could be bought out. If there ever was a corrupt character it was Gorren. Better to make sure about him before I went any further, so I asked Diane to get him on the phone for me. But he was out. I sat and moped awhile. What if he wouldn’t go to bat for me? I was cooked. Not that I was afraid of my skin because there’d be an awful stink if anything happened to me, so they wouldn’t knock me off. But there were ways, all right.
Diane stopped my worrying by giving me a buzz. “Your uncle wants to see you.” She gave a squeal. “Now I know where you learned to be so free with your hands.” A deep chuckle came out of the box.
A second later my uncle bounced in. That’s no exaggeration, either, because at sixty-eight, which he was, he still bounced. His shoulders filled the doorway and every inch of his six-two was straight as one of the spits he broiled his beloved lamb on. Pink scalp glowed under a thick shock of white hair and his seamed, good-humored face was a permanent bronze.
“Keefik, my boy!” he greeted me.
“Hello, yourself,” I grunted.
“And how is your father, that prince?” he wanted to know.
I nodded: all right, and he went on. “And your mother, that angel? And your brothers, those charming fellows?”
His Syrian formality could go on indefinitely I knew, so I cut him short. “You see my mother every day, and my old man and you spend most of your time playing towlay (Syrian backgammon) at Sam Nazare’s coffee shop. What are you leading up to?”
My Uncle Shpinay beamed at me. “You have such insight, my boy. I always said you would do great things.” Like filling a concrete cream puff, I thought.
He went on. “But not to waste your precious time, it is about this same Sam Nazare that I come to see you. The poor fellow is in difficulty. Those grasping fellows at the city hall are demanding license money of him again. As you well know it is but a meager livelihood he ekes from his little shop and he cannot pay the few dollars necessary. They
will close him up.” He shook his head sadly. “My boy, you are a man of affairs and have influence. You must help him.”
“It’s only twenty-five bucks. Why don’t you help him?”
“You know I would but it is against my principles to give those grafters money. Come now, it will take but a word from you to fix it.”
I gave in, like I always do. I got Harry Grieg at the license bureau on the phone and told him to take care of it. It would cost me fifty in free meals to square it with Harry but it was true that my uncle would rather lose an arm than pay money where he could avoid doing so.
My uncle Shpinay walked into the outer office while I was calling and came back with a suitcase. He listened to me and Harry and then borrowed the phone to call Nazare.
“It is arranged, my friend,” he told him. “Ay, ay, he is indeed a prince.” He beamed down at me, then talked into the phone again. “And how is your charming daughter, Sam?”
“Hang up!” I yelled. “You saw him half an hour ago so you don’t have to give him the business!”
My uncle put the phone down. “Sam sends you greetings and many thanks. His son Skondor wishes to thank you, too, on the matter of the parole.”
“Tell Skondor to stay away from other people’s safes and he won’t need any help.”
“It is true. Ay, ay!”
He smiled benevolently at me. “While I am here you may wish to see some linens which have just arrived from the old country.” He started to open the suitcase but I stopped him. The last linens he had sold me had fallen to pieces the first time they were washed.
Before he could start his spiel the door opened and Gorren came in. He could serve as the model for corrupt politicos. Behind his good-humored exterior he was murderously ambitious and from a lowly ward heeler he had bribed, wheedled and beaten his way to the top spot for graft in the city’s machine. The pig eyes in his fleshy face were hard as agate.
My uncle slid out of the room behind Gorren and closed the door.
“Look,” I said, “Antonelli’s in town.” Gorren nodded. “He wants to take over my business for peanuts and if I don’t go for it he’ll muscle me out. I want you to get him out of town in a hurry, see.”
Gorren shook his head. “I got nothing on him, Sid. I can’t do a thing.”
“Get something. How about all these guys who’s been knocked off the last few weeks?”
“I checked on that. He’s in the clear.”
“Will you give me protection?”
“Are you gonna try to fight him?”
“You’re damn right I’ll fight him! Think I’m going to sit here and let that lousy greaseball chase me out?”
Gorren shook his head. “Look, Sid, I don’t want any trouble. I can’t stand for a war.”
I could feel myself getting red in the face. “So you’re in with him! Well, I’m no fool either. I got enough on you to have you thrown in the can for twenty years. You stay on my side or else I’ll raise a stink that’ll finish you!”
Gorren gave me an oily smile and I could tell he thought he had me in the bag. I began to get scared. He was too shrewd to have left himself open. I wondered what was coming next. I didn’t have to wait long.
“You listen to me, Sid. Don’t start anything you can’t finish. We always got along fine but now you’re out. Be smart and take what you can get.” His voice got hard. “I’m warning you, don’t start anything!”
“And if I do?”
He thought for a moment. “How long you been in this country?”
“Since I was a kid. What’s that got to do with it?”
“Plenty. Know how you came in?”
“No.”
“Well, I do. I just happened to find out a little while back. Your old man came in illegally. I got the papers to prove it, too. If you don’t play ball I can send you back to Syria. Get it?”
“I don’t believe it!” In my heart, though, I could tell he wasn’t lying.
“Ask your old man.” He turned to go but looked back over his shoulder. “I wanta know tonight.”
The door opened behind him and my uncle walked into him. Gorren flew backward five or six feet. Uncle Shpinay jumped forward and kept him from falling. “My dear sir, please excuse my clumsiness.” He turned to me. “I forgot my suitcase,” he apologized.
A thought suddenly struck him. “Perhaps this gentleman would be interested in some fine imported linens. Mr.—ah—”
“Gorren,” the police chief supplied.
“Gorren! Of that fine family, the Caxton Park Gorrens, no doubt!”
“I live on Ainsly street.”
“An aristocratic neighborhood indeed! And now...”
“My wife buys the linens,” Gorren cut him off and stalked out, holding his side.
“Tsk, tsk! A most impolite man.” My uncle turned to go.
“Wait a minute,” I told him, “I want to ask you something.”
He nodded.
“You came over here from the old country with us. Was there anything wrong with our immigration papers?”
He thought for a second. “Not with our papers here but it was necessary to obtain our passports—ah—how shall I say?...”
“You don’t have to say. Could they send us back?”
“Perish the thought! Who would be so unkind?”
“That guy who just walked out. If he could prove it. Could he?”
“It is possible. There was a rascally fellow...he emigrated to Detroit and died there recently, I have been informed...who assisted us in obtaining the necessary papers. If he—”
“I’m afraid he has.”
“I’ll undeen!” he cursed. “Well, that is fate!”
“Don’t take it so well,” I told him. “All I can remember about the old country is heat and sand. I don’t want to go back if I can help it.”
He shrugged philosophically. “Well, life must go on. I have business to attend.” He picked up the phone and called Nazare.
“My dear friend, I must see some customers this afternoon. Would you be kind enough to assist me in displaying my wares?...Ay...”
He put the phone down. “Sam wishes to thank you again. And now, good day.” He left.
I got hold of my lawyer and he came over. The rest of the afternoon was spent looking for a loophole. We couldn’t find one.
“The thing is this, Sid,” he explained, “if you were an ordinary working man we could probably straighten it out but as the owner of a gambling establishment you can’t be considered an exemplary citizen. Since there will be a lot of pressure, besides, my candid opinion is that you haven’t got a chance.”
“I’m not so sure. If I really haven’t a chance why should they be willing to give me a hundred G’s?”
“If they didn’t give you anything you’d fight. And if people found out a gangster like Antonelli was running it they’d stay away. They want to take it over as a running business. Also, by giving you a halfway reasonable remuneration it makes everything legal.”
I looked at him in disgust. “So what should I do?”
“My advice is to take what you can get and forget it.”
I shook my head. “Damn it! I hate to have those vultures take away something I’ve spent years to get. I got a notion to blow their brains out when they show up tonight!”
Phelps waved me quiet, and sat and thought for a while. Then he said, “Listen to me, Sid, don’t do anything foolish. They’ve got you licked. What you want to do now is to pull out with a whole skin.”
I nodded miserably.
“All right, then,” he continued. “When Gorren and Antonelli show up tonight I’ll have all the necessary papers ready. We’ll demand that they produce whatever proof they’ve got that your passports were obtained fraudulently and hand them over. Then at least you’ll be safe and you can go somewhere else and start over if you want.”
He looked at me. “Isn’t that more sensible than what you had in mind?”
“O.K. I won’t start anything.”
“Fine. I’ll be back in a couple of hours. If they show up before I do tell them to wait. It’s my opinion you’re getting out pretty well so we’d better not give them a chance to change their minds.”
He left, and I sat for a while doing nothing. Then I began clearing out my desk, but I couldn’t go through with it. So I slammed the drawer shut and sat and thought some more about how it had been to start as a sheet writer in a bookie joint and work my way up to a spot like this. Why, the Villa Rouge was nationally famous! Life magazine had even had a story and pictures about it once. The finest food and a square game. That was my motto and I’d always stuck to it.
I did a lot of thinking. Phelps was right. Where but in these United States could a guy like me do that? The more I pondered the less I liked the idea of going back to Syria.
After a while the room got dark and from force of habit I got up and went downstairs to count the house. It was the same as usual. The early dinner crowd had filled the dining room and some of the very early birds were hanging around waiting for the gambling rooms to open. I knew a lot of the customers so I walked between the tables and said hello to them and here and there I told the waiter to bring champagne for one who was a big bettor. As for myself, I wasn’t hungry.
It was about eight o’clock when Phelps got back. I saw him come in and waved to him to go up while I signed a tab for one of the boys from the city hall. A few minutes later I joined Phelps in my office. He had his brief case open and had already taken out some papers.
He looked up as I came in. “There really isn’t so much,” he said. “Just a bill of sale and a few other things, like transfer of title on the property. I can clear up the rest when Antonelli takes possession.”
I snorted. “A fast finish to years of work. I’d like to get that fat slob alone in here for a few minutes. I’d give him a working over he’d never forget.”
“Sid, I told you, for your own good, forget that stuff!”
“Yeah! It’s easy for you to tell me to forget it. It’s not your business I’m going to be signing away in a little while!”
He looked at me queerly. “I want you to know, Sid, that when I got back to the office I found Antonelli. He wanted me to handle his legal work. I turned him down cold. I’m on your side but as your attorney it’s my job to get you out of this in the best possible shape.”
The Cutthroats and Criminals Megapack Page 20