Stop This Man!

by Peter Rabe

  The place looked like any other office that used more than one desk. There was a railing with a swinging gate, there were several desks and filing cabinets and a switchboard. In the back an office was set apart by frosted glass. The place looked empty.

  When Catell started through the swinging gate, the office door in the back opened and a goon with a face like a tomato came out.

  “He’s waiting for ya. Step right in,” and the goon came past Catell and sat down at the switchboard.

  Smith looked as he always did, rotund, a little jovial, his mouth busy on a cigar.

  “Nice tan you got. Sit down, Catell, sit down.”

  Catell sat.

  “And how’s the little Lily?”

  “She’s—Why do you ask?”

  “Just polite, Catell, just a polite inquiry.”

  “She’s fine. You know why I’m here, Smith, so let’s—”

  “Of course. The gold. What do you think we ought to do, Catell?”

  “What’s there to think? We made a deal, we set the price, and this is it. Where do you want it and when? That’s all there is to do, Smith.”

  Catell had started to raise his voice, but he controlled himself. He saw a speck of dust on his pants and brushed it off with a short movement. “Our agreement stands, Smith. You’re not dealing with a punk.”

  Smith exhaled noisily, letting the sound die down. Then he leaned back and looked at the ceiling.

  “You say we have a deal on, Catell, and you are right. You did a job and I paid you. I paid you even though I didn’t make a cent on that heist. In fact, it’s costing me. Would you like to know how much it’s costing me? However, that’s neither here nor there. And the fact that you couldn’t deliver is certainly not your fault. Nevertheless, the fact remains that the job did not come off.”

  “Just a minute, Smith. Before—”

  “Please let me finish. You and I have a deal. That stands. I’m not trying to pull out, Catell, because that’s not the way I work. But I’m asking you to stand by the terms of our agreement, just as I do. You’ve got to deliver.”

  “You blaming me for that fluky setup?”

  “Certainly not. And those to blame have been dealt with. You were present on one of the occasions yourself. I am suggesting, in all fairness to both of us, that you go along with me once more. I have—”

  “I don’t operate that way, Smith. When—”

  “I realize that, Catell. I realize the last operation cramped your style, there were holes in the planning, and I certainly didn’t get the benefit of your talent. The next time, all that will be corrected. I want you to be in on the planning, you can do your own research, and I’ll give you a percentage of the take.”

  “You have it all worked out, haven’t you, Smith?”

  “I have.”

  And Catell knew there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

  For a moment the thought made him see red. A thousand acrid hates rose in his throat. He closed his eyes, trying to control the fine trembling that crept through his body. He took a harsh breath. Watch it, Catell. You’re getting like a hophead taking the cold turkey. Hold on, for the sake of—for the sake of everything. Why am I cracking now? The knowledge of his strange new weakness drove fear into him.

  “Is anything wrong, Catell?”

  He opened his eyes, face still. “Nothing, Smith. Too much sun, I figure. Nothing’s the matter,” and then his strength came back. There were small beads of sweat on his forehead, but he was himself again.

  “I was just thinking, Smith. I was thinking you’re right.”

  “Good. We’ll talk about the details some other time. In general, it’s the same operation as the last. There’s a little resort up in the Sierras, small but expensive, where they run a sizable gaming room on weekends. You’ll go up and have a look yourself. I’ll give you a flat three thousand plus a percentage. We’ll go over that the next time. This will definitely be your last commitment—if you wish—and we’ll complete the rest of our affairs as soon as this is over.”

  Smith opened his wallet and took out three bills. “Fifteen hundred on account. Take it.”

  Catell picked up the money and stuck it in his pocket. Then they shook hands, Smith making a brief smile. When Catell was at the door, Smith said:

  “Before I forget it. There was a call for you. A woman by the name of Selma.”

  “What!”

  “The past, apparently, rearing its head, eh?”

  “What did she want?”

  “Nothing. I took the message, because she came well recommended. Our friend Paar gave her my number.”

  Catell walked back into the room “Why did she call?”

  “She said to tell you she had arrived in town. And you should give her a ring at the Empress Arms.”

  “That all?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure whether she was asking you or telling you. Why, Catell, you look almost human!” Smith gurgled a laugh and watched Catell’s face turn glum. “Ah, I don’t often do this, Catell, but would you care to talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. I was just surprised for a minute.”

  “I noticed that. Sit down, Catell. Here, have one of my cigars.”

  “Thanks, I don’t smoke cigars. Anyway—”

  “Sit down, Catell.”

  They sat for a moment while Smith unwrapped a cigar for himself.

  “I’m not concerned with anything in your life, Catell, except insofar as it affects your work in my organization. Please understand that. Now, just as I cannot tolerate a squealer in my work, I cannot tolerate the kind of problems that some men seem to have with women. I don’t like messes, Catell.”

  “You’re going a little far, aren’t you, Smith?”

  “I don’t mean to. It’s true, though, isn’t it, that this Selma is a lush?”

  “Would you believe it, Smith, I don’t know. Selma was a dame I knew about ten years ago.”

  “How about Detroit?”

  “Nothing. I’d just been out of stir a short while.”

  “Ah, I don’t mean to sound superstitious, Catell, but the man who lived with Selma—Schumacher, I think—and the man who was with Lily, they are both dead now.”

  “I don’t follow that. If you’re not superstitious—”

  “I’m not. Only some men, for vague reasons, unknown reasons, some men have a way of concentrating disaster around themselves, and it might be that you—and you’ll admit there is nothing average about you—that you could easily—”

  “I don’t get any of that crap, Smith. I’m a guy like any other guy who knows what he wants and does all he can to get it. I’ve had my share of kicks, sure, but I’m as careful as the next guy.” Catell sucked on his cigarette, hard. “Especially now,” he added, and tossed the butt to the floor.

  “Uh, now?”

  “Yeah, now. I’m no spring chicken, Smith. It’s time I made good and found something solid. I haven’t got time to horse around. One, two solid jobs and I’m off this racket. I got some playtime coming to me and I mean to have it.”

  “Speaking of playtime, are you including Lily in all this?”

  “I’ll tell you this much, Smith: She isn’t playtime. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  “I’m sorry if this riles you, but, as I have said before, my only intent is—”

  “Yeah, I know. Commercial.”

  “And that’s why I cover all angles, Catell. Of course, I’m glad to see that you are serious-minded, and that your attitude is sober. But that’s why I’m wondering. Don’t you think Lily is a little young, uh, for you?”

  Catell got up and went to the door without answering. Then he turned and said, “I’m forgetting you asked that, Smith. And remember, don’t pump me again. You and me, Smith, we don’t discuss Lily. Understand?”

  Smith shrugged his heavy shoulders and turned the swivel chair the other way.

  “Don’t forget your message,” he said to the opposite wall. “You’re suppo
sed to call this Selma.”

  Catell stepped through the door and slammed it behind him.

  He took the Freeway to Hollywood and then cut over to Sunset. He turned on Vine, parked the car, and walked back to the corner.

  The corner of Sunset and Vine was crowded with characters. Professional characters, unintentional characters, and the plain crazy variety. There was the guy who once had the bad luck of writing one hit song, and nothing since. There was the slob who had another deal on and he was bending somebody’s ear about how the deal was hot. A high-stacked blonde was wailing for the light to change, looking busy and detached in dark glasses. Tourists hustled around in pairs, all atwitter with free passes to a TV broadcast. Catell saw them line up like sheep in front of CBS, all looking very much alike with cameras, Hawaiian shirts, and health shoes.

  With nothing else to do, Catell walked into an ice cream parlor and sat down. He ordered Pistachio Delight, which came in a clifflike arrangement and smelled like perfume. He hated ice cream, but the glass dish felt cold in his hands, and he held on to the bowl as if it could draw the waves of fever out of his bones. Catell felt sick.

  From where he sat, the night didn’t look like night. An unnatural glare covered the street, making harsh black shadows. Catell lit a cigarette. After a few drags he pushed the butt into the wet mess in his ice cream dish, where the cliffs had turned into a soggy bog, and went outside.

  Catell wasn’t the only one just standing around in the street, but he was the only one who wasn’t rushing. Another hour before he could see Lily.

  He would have liked to see the Turtle. For a moment Catell forgot he was a hunted man and started to figure what to take to the Turtle during visiting hours tomorrow. That’s probably what they were waiting for. There were probably men watching the Turtle the way an angler concentrates on his hook, after a long day without a nibble.

  Catell leaned against a wall and closed his eyes. Everything started to spin. He walked up and down the street like a very busy man, late for an appointment, or perhaps anxious to get there ahead of time, this being a really hot deal. It didn’t work. He couldn’t have cared less. He watched a young dish walk by, her high-heeled strut making highlights dance all over her. Just for the hell of it, he pushed himself away from the wall, turned toward the girl, and gave her the eye. She looked back so coldly that the whole vision of her turned ugly. But it wouldn’t have taken that much to make Catell lose interest. A minute or so later he couldn’t remember what she looked like.

  Catell looked at his watch and started for his car. Pulling out in a sharp U turn, he drove up to Sunset and joined the traffic toward Beverly Hills. But he didn’t start to make any time until he passed the Beverly-Wilshire, where the traffic thinned out a little. Catell had started to smoke the way Topper used to: one cigarette after another and the windows closed. When he got to the Pink Shell, his pack was empty.

  Lily still used the same dressing room where Catell had found her that first time. He went in and waited for her, folding and refolding the empty cigarette pack.

  When she came in, Catell got up and smiled. “You’re looking good, baby. How was it?”

  “O.K., I guess. You been waiting long, Tony?”

  She went behind the screen to take off the red corset and net stockings she was wearing.

  “Why’re you going behind that thing?”

  “Just because.”

  “Because what?”

  “I don’t know. Just because, you know.”

  “Come on out.”

  “Aw, Tony, please. That’s not right.”

  He didn’t answer her. He sat with his elbows on his knees, cracking his knuckles.

  “How was it, Lily?”

  “Reach me that bra, hon. How was what?”

  “Where you came from, just now. That party.”

  “O.K., I guess. We just danced. I sang a song.”

  “What else?”

  “Nothing, Tony, honest. Just a private party and we entertained. You know.”

  “I bet you entertained. Anybody make a pass at you?”

  “Tony!”

  “Listen, I know those parties. Did anybody—”

  “Nobody did nothing, hon, really. To me, anyway.”

  “What?”

  “Well, some of the girls stayed, you know. They’re still there. But nobody tried anything with me. They all know I’m your girl, Tony.”

  She came out from behind the screen, wearing the white dress, high and smooth around her ripe body, the dress she had worn the first time he’d heard her sing.

  Catell got up and took her waist. “They knew you were my girl, huh?”

  “They did, hon. That makes me special,” and she smiled up at him. “You feeling better now, Tony?”

  “Sure. And all this is going to change. One more week, Lily, two weeks at the most, and you and I beat it out of here. No more of this life, Lily.” He kissed her hard and she gave the kiss back, slowly, earnestly.

  “My number’s up, Tony. You sit out front?”

  “Don’t say your number’s up. Bad luck.” He chucked her under the chin. “Say, ‘I’m going on stage,’ or something.”

  “O.K., Tony. You’ll be out front?”

  “I’ll be right there with you.”

  They did the number about the evil baron again, and Lily did her song. Catell sat and waited. His throat felt hot and raw from smoking, so he drank a glass of milk. When Lily was through she came to the table and sat down.

  “Why don’t we go home?” Catell said. He had one hand on Lily’s arm, working his palm against her wrist.

  “One more number, Tony. The short one. Can I have a drink?”

  “Sure. What?”

  “Just bar whisky. And a glass of water.”

  “Bar whisky! How can you stand that stuff? We can afford better, you know. Besides, it’s on the house.”

  “Just bar whisky. I like a little shot. It makes me warm inside. You know, Tony, I don’t care for the flavors, I just like the heat inside.”

  “Of course you know how fattening it is.”

  “It is?”

  “Oh, yes, very, and you are getting fat. Here.”

  “Tony! The people!”

  “And here.”

  “To-nee!”

  “True. At your age, getting fat is a bad thing.”

  “Tony Catell, you do that once more and I’ll leave.”

  “You’ll leave! Where to?”

  “I don’t know yet, and besides, I wouldn’t tell you, anyway. So there!”

  They looked at each other and laughed, not really knowing why. And in the middle of their being together, a cold anger suddenly pulled Catell’s face into an ugly mask. He got up.

  “What in hell do you want?”

  “Why, lovin’ cup, you old boozer, where have you been keeping yourself?”

  Selma came up to the table with a rush, gesturing, looking back and forth between Catell and the seated girl.

  “You gonna ask me to sit down, lovin’ cup?” She sat down next to Lily.

  “This is my friend Lily. And this is Selma.”

  Selma’s wide mouth was spread in a stiff grin and she kept crinkling her eyes as if she was suppressing a real killer of a joke.

  “If you knew just how happy this makes me, to see good old Tony again. I’ve been asking around and around, ever since I got here, Tony, and finding out all kinds of things about you. I hadn’t heard about you, though,” Selma said, looking Lily up and down.

  “I bet,” Catell said. He waved to the bartender.

  “Me too, lovin’ cup. Scotch.” Selma looked at Catell as if he and she were the only people at the table. She put her chin in her hands and moved one shoulder. The strap of her evening dress slid down.

  “Your thing slid down, Miss—Mrs.—”

  “Just Selma, dear. Just call me Selma.”

  There was an ugly scratch in Selma’s voice when she talked to Lily. Lily looked as she always did.

  While
they were waiting for the drinks, there was a moment of silence, the kind of silence that everybody hopes no one will break, but somebody has to.

  Then Selma laughed. “Well, Tony, tell me about yourself. You been doing any good? Uh, pardon me, dear, I don’t mean you.” Selma gave Lily an indulgent smile.

  “Selma.” Catell’s voice pressed out with a hiss. “Selma, I want you to get one thing straight. Leave the kid alone. In fact, leave her out completely. She’s done nothing to you, and you, sister, mean nothing to me. So get off my back, Selma. Just stay off my back.”

  Before there was an answer the drinks came and Selma lifted her glass. Then she put the glass down without putting it to her lips.

  “Don’t get me wrong, Tony dear.” She kept her eyes down. “I don’t mind what you did with the chippie. Now that you and me are back together again.” Then she tossed down the drink.

  Lily was watching Catell with a puzzled look. His hands were shaking. She stretched her hand out, slowly, trying to touch Catell. Selma turned on her with hate in her eyes.

  “Don’t you try and wheedle him, you slut. And don’t you forget for a minute that your kind—”

  That’s when Catell hit her.

  He did it so fast that nobody saw it clearly, and there was nothing to show for it but a slow red welt on Selma’s cheek.

  She stared at him open-mouthed. Lily, eyes wide, had started to get up when Selma’s expression changed. With a soft, tired voice she said, “Don’t be upset, dear. He’s like that. Perhaps you haven’t found that out. You would if you stayed with him, Lily. He has crazy ways of getting his kicks. Why, I remember once he woke me up at four in the morning and asked me—”

  “Selma, either you stop or you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”

  There was something in Catell’s voice that reached the woman. She swallowed and patted her hair. “Buy me another drink, Tony?”

  “No. And now you listen to me. All you and I ever were to each other was a dance and a drink and a jump. That’s all. I’ve asked you once to stay off my back. This time I’m telling you. Keep out of our way and nothing will happen to you. Cross me and you’ll regret it. So remember what I say and act your age. That’s all I’ve got to say to you, Selma, and I’m not going to say it again.” Catell took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. “Now if you still want that drink, I’ll get you one.”