The Hoods

by Grey, Harry

  Maxie pushed Big Nose toward the large safe. He hissed at him, “Okay, bastard, open up.”

  Big Nose shook his head. “No, I won't.”

  Maxie's open left hand traveled from the floor. It whoozed like a bullwhip through the air. It landed an awful smack across Big Nose's face. His toupee flew off his head. The side of his face grew blood red. The upper part started swelling immediately. His mouth hung open, twisted to one side grotesquely. The jaw was broken. He was crying, pleading incoherently for mercy. In dread panic he started to turn the combination on the safe.

  I had one eye on the girl. That smack Maxie gave Big Nose did it to her. She was a skinny, flat chested thing. She looked the mousy, prim, quiet type. But her quietness was deceptive. Inside she was burning. Her face was tellingly blotched and flushed a vivid red with excitement.

  After the smack Maxie gave Big Nose, she lost control. She went berserk. She flew at us. I grabbed her. She slashed at me with her long nails. I ducked my head and held on to her.

  I panted in her ear, “Stop it, you bitch, you don't have to put up that good an act.”

  She didn't answer. She was trying to bite me. I let her go and tried to get away. She just held on tighter and tried to rip my eyes out, sobbing hysterically all the while. I had to drop my shiv and hold on to her with both hands.

  The wild girl knew where a man was most vulnerable. She tried to knee me. I had to hold her knee captive between mine. I couldn't help it. I experienced a terrific erection.

  When it came to women, I had no conscience. Size, shape, color, creed, type, time or place, nothing mattered. I looked at women with only one thought in mind. For me they existed only for one purpose. But this bitch, at this time and place, wasn't for me.

  I didn't want to hurt her.

  I hissed in her ear, “Cut it out, cut it out, what the hell's the matter with you?”

  She panted, “Beat me, beat me.”

  “Why?” I gasped. “Your act is good enough as it is. Cut it out.”

  “No, no,” she sobbed, “beat me. I love it, I love it.”

  She flayed me with her arms. I was distracted. I grabbed at her arms, and let go of her knee.

  The female sadist came up with her leg in my groin. Luckily I tightened up in time. All she did was knock my breath out for an instant. It made me lose my temper. I clipped a left hook on her chin.

  She went sprawling. She had no girdle, no bloomers under her dress. She lay there, her legs spread wide apart.

  This by-play with the girl took only a moment or so. I looked around the room. Pat was standing guard at the door. The two men on the floor were gaping up at us in fright. I could see that all their reflexes were dulled with horror. They were in a numbed state.

  Big Nose was still fumbling with the combination. His hands were trembling. It took him a few moments before he opened the safe, disclosing its cavernous interior. It gave me a strange feeling of morbid lust. I guess it was a carry over from the tussle I had just had. The thought of the girl lying on the floor was bothering me. The action of opening the safe renewed the terrific erection. Or was it the thought of the girl falling and being exposed? Somehow it was all related in my mind. Anyway, the safe seemed to give me a sensual thrill. I dived in.

  With an intense feeling of gratification, I grabbed little envelopes filled with diamonds from little drawers in the safe. I handed them out to Maxie. He crammed them into his pockets. The gloves I was wearing made it a bit awkward. I dropped an envelope, spilling the brilliant stones.

  Maxie leaned inside and cautioned, “Take it easy, Noodles, take it easy.”

  He examined the inside of the safe. He pulled out each drawer to see if I had missed anything. He whispered, “This is it. We've got the whole jack pot. Okay, Noodles, cut the phone and the alarm wires.”

  I picked up my knife and did my job. Max and Patsy pushed or dragged the three terrified men into the inner office.

  “Better tie that crazy broad, Noodles, and put her in there, too,” Max said.

  I looked down at her. She was conscious. She looked up at me with erotic eyes mere slits. I bent down to tie her. She was completely different from what she had been. She lay passively as I tied her up, but the erotic obscenities she whispered in my ears belied her meekness.

  When I carried her into the inner office, she promised all sorts of pleasures if I would meet her some night. I shook my head.

  “I don't mix business with pleasure, baby,” I said.

  I couldn't resist giving her a feel as I put her down. She closed her eyes and squirmed on the ground like an animal in heat.

  Max and Patsy missed all my by-play with the girl. They were aware only of her general hysterical condition. They attributed that to the violence of the moment.

  Max looked around the office.

  He nodded his head in satisfaction, and snapped his fingers as a signal. We pulled off the handkerchiefs and put our rods in our holsters.

  We made our exit, and got into the freight elevator. Patsy pushed the control for “down.” The Swede was coming to. He tried to get to his feet, and as he stumbled, he raised a rumpus, knocking cans down in the process.

  Maxie snapped to Patsy, “Quiet that bastard, he's getting as noisy as two skeletons screwing on a tin roof.”

  Patsy took his persuader out and banged the Swede a terrific whack over the head.

  The big Swede lay quiet.

  We reached the street level, and walked calmly, one at a time, out of the building.

  Cockeye was sitting at the wheel, the motor idling. We got into the Caddy.

  “Eddie's Hotel,” Maxie said.

  Cockeye pulled skillfully out into the moving traffic. We reached the hotel. Smiling Eddie was standing in the lobby. He nodded to us. Maxie gave him the sign to stay “put.”

  We went into Eddie's private office, and locked the door. Maxie opened the safe, took a key out of his pocket, unlocked our personal compartment. He put the envelopes in, and shut the safe. We walked out, and Eddie gave us a knowing nod.

  All this time none of us spoke a word. We shot down to the rear entrance of Lutkee's Baths, walked stealthily into our rooms and undressed. Then we walked into the baths proper. It was nine-thirty a.m. At that hour, the baths are deserted. The attendants had finished their morning chores and had made the place ready for the evening trade. They had gone to their rooms where they retire, for they are on call any time of day.

  Only Lutkee was there, waiting for us. He whispered, “Okay, Max, everything is set.”

  He pointed to the big wall clock. It read twenty minutes after eight.

  Lutkee asked, “How is it, Max, all right? I set it back an hour and twenty minutes.”

  Max nodded. “How about the clock in the barber shop?”

  Lutkee said, “It's fixed the same way.”

  Max said, “Fine, fine. Okay. Wake up a couple of attendants and the barber. Tell them we're just getting up. Wait a minute.”

  Max put his arm on Lutkee's shoulder.

  “Have these guys got watches, pocket watches, maybe?”

  Lutkee smiled.

  “Yes, but I have them locked up in my safe with the rest of their belongings. They have to depend on me and the wall clock for the correct time. Everything is all right, I assure you, Max.”

  The drowsy attendants and the barber came out of their rooms grumbling. When they recognized us, they perked up, anticipating large tips. We all had alcohol rubdowns and shaves. Every so often one of us asked the attendants or the barber for the correct time to fix it in their minds. As Maxie planned it, if we were picked up as suspects, we would have plenty of reputable witnesses to the fact that we were miles away from Forty-fourth Street between the hours of eight-twenty and nine-twenty.

  When we finished our toilet, each of us threw the attendants and the barber a sawbuck apiece. They were profuse in their thanks. They went back to their rooms.

  “Fat Moe's, Max?” Cockeye asked as we piled into the Caddy.


  Big Max nodded.

  CHAPTER 12

  Max unlocked the rear door of our speakeasy. We walked in. With sighs of relief we sat around the table.

  Fat Moe came in with a tray of double hookers. He beamed over us. He set our drinks down at our elbows.

  “I heard you guys come in,” he said.

  Max picked up his drink, swallowed his four ounces of rye in one gulp, sighed with contentment and asked, “Any messages, Moe? Anybody been around?”

  Moe looked us over with an understanding eye. He shook his head. “Not a one,” and went back to his trade at the front bar.

  Max took a handful of Coronas out of the box in the drawer of the table. He tossed us each one. We lit up. We sipped our doubles slowly and smoked our cigars.

  We felt in an expansive mood. We had just pulled off a profitable piece of business with just enough excitement in it to leave us quietly elated.

  Since Cockeye had not been upstairs during the heist, he was curious about it. Maxie gave him a brief review.

  Patsy grinned at me across the table.

  “Why don't you tell Cockeye about the tomato you were rassling with? That excited filly had some pair of shafts, hey, Noodles?”

  I smiled sheepishly.

  Pat continued. “Cockeye, you should have seen the guy's face after Maxie got through with it. Even his wife couldn't look at it except maybe on payday.”

  With each drink Moe brought in the tension slowly flowed out of us. Each remark seemed clever and hilariously funny.

  Yes, we felt exhilarated, like any group of ordinary men after completing a business venture successfully.

  “And what a nose on the guy,” Maxie said laughing. “It was so long, if it was full of nickels, he could retire.” After the laughter subsided, he continued. “You know, this heist was done with real craftsmanship. The Professor would have been proud of us.

  “Remember his four points to a successful heist?”

  Max enumerated them. “First, the Finger must be reliable. Second, the transportation must be fast and safe. Third, and most important, the action must be quick, hard and brutal. You know,” Max reached for another drink, “I almost forgot the fourth point. You must plan in advance a perfect alibi.”

  He looked around with a satisfied smile. He was looking for approbation.

  I winked and said, “Yeh, the Professor taught us a lot. How about chow? Ain't nobody hungry?”

  Max said, “Yep, it's a good idea. I forgot all about food.”

  He sent Cockeye out to Katz's. At the door Cockeye turned and asked, “What kind?”

  Patsy called out, “Four hot pastramis for me.”

  Maxie smiled.

  “I'm not very hungry; just two hot pastramis and two hot corned beefs for me.”

  Cockeye said, “Me for a half dozen hot dogs. How about you, Noodles?”

  My mouth watered as I replied, “Two tongues and two hot corned beefs for me.”

  Waiting for Cockeye to come back with the sandwiches we lapsed into a satisfied silence, smoking and drinking. My thoughts drifted back to the Finger's wife. Maybe I should have dated her? Nah, she's too much for any man, even me. The hell with her kind. I laughed inwardly. Three or four different normal women a week is enough for me. I have plenty of excitement. I stretched out in my chair, satisfied with myself and everything around me. I began daydreaming. I tried to eradicate John's wife from my mind; to make myself relish the thought of the profit on the diamond heist instead. It was no use. My mind snapped back to her passionate antics and her obscene promises. It started me off into a short spasm of quiet giggling.

  My companions looked at me curiously.

  Maxie said, “What, again? Looks like Noodles is going off his noodle.”

  It was a good thing Cockeye came back from Katz's with the sandwiches just then. I felt a real laughing jag coming on. We made a grab for the sandwiches with the same air of anxious, happy excitement as when we were kids. The only difference was that nowadays we had enough do-re-mi to buy all the hot meat sandwiches we could eat. It was a comfortable feeling.

  We kept Fat Moe busy bringing in tray after tray of cold beer to wash down the sandwiches. Cockeye wolfed his six hot dogs, took his harmonica out of his pocket, tilted his chair against the wall, tapped the harmonica vigorously as usual, and in a slow tempo softly played “Goodbye, My Coney Island Baby.”

  Maxie gulped his last bite hurriedly, took a swig of beer and caught Cockeye on the second stanza. His mediocre baritone harmonized perfectly with Cockeye's playing. Everything Cockeye did, he did well. He was a virtuoso with the harmonica. To us, it sounded like a symphony orchestra. Cockeye and Maxie swung into “The Sheik of Araby,” then “Dardanella.” They stopped singing after awhile. Cockeye continued playing one old ballad after another, bringing on a feeling of nostalgia, for the old days when we were penniless kids, harmonizing together in the Jackson Street park.

  Our chairs were tilted comfortably against the wall. Our cigars smelled sweet and aromatic. Our beer tasted just fine. Our bellies were full. Our world was secure and right. Over Big Maxie's face came such a look of contentment and satisfaction as I have seen before on only one face: on the face of a young, passionate widow, whose late elderly husband had been effete for many years, after I had been the first to completely satisfy her.

  There was a general air of solid peace and tranquility in the back room of Fat Moe's. One by one we dozed off. The only sound in the room was Cockeye's wheezy snoring. Then like a keen axe in the hands of a lumberjack, the sharp ringing of the phone cut into our peace and left us coldly businesslike and alert.

  Max picked up the receiver and snapped, “Yep—yep—yep.”

  For about two minutes he listened, then he continued with his “Yep —yep.” A final “yep” and he hung up.

  We looked at him, curious. Max took his time, lit his cigar, blew out a mouthful of heavy smoke, threw the match on the floor and commented casually. “That goddamn kid, Vincent Coll from the Dutchman's mob up in the Bronx, the kid they call the Mad Mick, is on the rampage.”

  I said sarcastically. “So was that so important? Who the hell is he?”

  Maxie said, “That isn't all. The office told me the kid persuaded thirty of the Dutchman's mob into joining him.”

  Maxie took a puff on his cigar and continued: “The kid swore he would knock off the Dutchman and anyone of the Combination men who got in the way. The Dutchman offered fifty grand to knock the kid off.”

  I whistled.

  Patsy said, “Jesus Christ.”

  Cockeye jumped up, excited. “Shall I get the Caddy, Max? Do we go into action?” he demanded.

  Maxie shook his head.

  “Nah. Every mob in town will be competing for that jackpot. That stupid kid has as much chance bucking the Combination as a cow has stopping a forty-car freight train.” Maxie chuckled. “And that ain't all.”

  Patsy asked, “What else? What's the joke, Max?”

  “The kid's got a sense of humor. He snatched Big Frenchie and clipped one ear off and sent it down with a note asking eighty grand.”

  Maxie laughed and continued: “And tomorrow he promised, if he didn't get the dough, he'd send Frenchie's pecker down in a hot dog roll.”

  I asked, “With or without mustard?”

  Max ignored my crack.

  He continued: “The office told me just to be on the alert. I guess we sit this one out, unless we get other instructions.”

  Moe came in with a tray of double hookers. We played Greek rummy with two decks of cards. Cockeye was ahead five hundred bucks after a couple of hours.

  I began feeling tired. I pushed my chair back and said, “I'm pooped. Guess I'll hit the hay.”

  “That's a good idea. Let's all of us pack in and pound the pillow early for a change,” Max nodded approvingly.

  “Noodles is going home early to pound a blonde,” Cockeye said waggishly.

  “No, not tonight,” I assured Cockeye as I walked to the door.r />
  “Hey, Noodles,” Cockeye called after me.

  “Yes?”

  “I don't like to get personal, and pry into your private sex life—but —is that true what they say about you?”

  I looked at Cockeye, and wasn't sure whether I should feel offended or not. But I was curious to know what they were saying about me. I walked back to the table and sat down.

  “Well, Cockeye,” I began casually, as I lit a cigar, “you are getting personal, but let's hear it. What do you want to know about my private sex life?”

  He acted embarrassed.

  “Well they say—” he faltered.

  “Go ahead, since when did you become bashful?” I said.

  I smiled patronizingly at him.

  He started off again. “They say you get yourself a different broad in your place every night in the week.”

  “A different one every night in the week?” I questioned. “It's gross exaggeration; no, I'm not that good.”

  I smiled reflectively.

  “Maybe a different one every other night might be true.”

  “Yeh, Noodles, they say you're quite a Casanova,” Maxie arched his eyebrows roguishly, “a Broadway Casanova.”

  “So, what do they call me now? Noodles the Shiv and Broadway Casanova?” I said drily, “That's an awkward title, ain't it?”

  We all laughed.

  Patsy said, “Even a different broad every other night is pretty good.”

  He thought awhile.

  “Three a week for ten years is—” He looked up at the ceiling to do his mental arithmetic.

  He whistled.

  “Jesus, it adds up to about 1500 different women.”

  Maxie commented with a droll inflection. “Noodles is a better man than Solomon was.”

  “Yeh, I got a bigger flock to pick from,” I said drily. There's a million women loose around Broadway every night.”

  The silly conversation began to pall on me. I got up to go. “But tonight the only thing I will pick up and take to bed with me will be a good book.”