“All right, sir.”
“I’m interested in buying a little house somewhere on Long Island,” I said. “I don’t know where, exactly. Long Beach or some place like that, where the air is healthy and there’s plenty of sunshine. It doesn’t have to be Long Beach, just some place where it’s healthy and restful and quiet. I’m not interested in playgrounds for children or schools or anything like that. The less children the better. I want a place where an old—a middle-aged lady can take it easy and get plenty of fresh air and sunlight and—”
“How big a place would you want, sir?”
“I don’t know. Yacht basins and stables for polo ponies I don’t need. What do you suggest?”
“Well, now, for how many people, sir?”
“Two.”
“Well—”
“Another thing,” I added. “Something without stairs to climb, too. A small house where you don’t have to wear out your legs running up and down.”
“I’ve got it, sir. What you want is a bungalow type house.”
“None of that tissue-paper wall stuff, though,” I said. “I want something where you don’t have to wear fur coats in the kitchen in the winter time.”
There was a short admiring laugh on the wire.
“You’re a tough customer, all right, Mr.—?”
How did he know I was a customer?
“Bogen,” I said, “E, n.”
Now he could know.
“Mr. Bogen. Nobody puts anything over on you, do they, Mr. Bogen?”
Why make a question of it?
“They try,” I said. “But—” I saw the clock on the wall above Miss Vinegard’s head. It was nine-thirty. “Well, listen, I’m in a hurry. I’m just asking questions today to get a rough idea on price. Offhand, what would a thing like that cost?”
I could almost see him pursing his lips like a trombone player.
“We-ell, Mr. Bogen, I’ll—”
“Offhand,” I said.
“Well, I should say, offhand, that a house and a lot like that, say a good brick bungalow-type house, with maybe five rooms and a garage in back, oil burner and all the rest, situated somewhere on a nice quiet residential street, no factories, no filling stations, no shops, somewhere in a nice quiet town like—”
I’d hate to pay for it by the word.
“Cash,” I said briskly. “Don’t give me any of this rigmarole about mortgages and finance companies and interest and all that tripe. Spot cash. How much?”
There was no room for chuckles in the voice. It was loaded down with surprise.
“Cash?” he said.
“Yeah, you know. Money. Bills. Greenbacks. Silver. Coins. Cush. Kale. Mazuma. Gelt. You know what I mean? Cash.”
“Well, Mr. Bogen, I should say about—”
“Not about. Accurate.”
“About eight or ten thousand dollars,” he said. “Maybe twelve. But it would be—”
“All right,” I said, “thanks.”
“Won’t you—?” he began.
“No,” I said, “I won’t. Not today. I’ll be in next week and let you sell me a couple, though.”
“Mr. Bogen,” he cried, “if that’s too much I can—!”
“It’s not too much,” I said. “It’s just that I’m too busy right now.”
“May I send you my—?”
“No,” I said, “you may not. Don’t get so excited, Baltuch Associates, Incorporated. When I’m ready I’ll let you know.”
“You won’t—?”
“No, I won’t,” I said. “I’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Good-by, Mr. Bogen.”
“Good-by.”
I hung up and slipped the leather notebook full of orders under my arm. I was ready for the day’s work.
“So long, Miss Vinegard,” I said as I passed the switchboard. “I’ll be back later.”
“So long, Mr. Bogen,” she said.
As soon as I got out into the street I headed directly for the Lefcourt-Normandie Building. The clock over the doorway said a quarter to ten. I went in and looked up the name on the directory in the lobby and then got into the elevator. When I got out on the right floor I didn’t have any trouble finding the door because Teddy Ast had his name plastered all over the hall with arrows pointing the way.
There was a little waiting room just inside the door, with an “Information” window in one wall.
“Mr. Ast, please,” I said.
“I’m sorry, sir, he’s not in yet.”
“What time does he usually get in?”
“About nine-thirty,” she said. “But he’s a little late this morning, I don’t really know why.”
“All right, Miss. I’ll wait for him.”
I started to push my way through the doors that led to the showroom, but she called to me excitedly.
“Don’t go in there, please!” she said. “You’ll have to wait for Mr. Ast out here!”
She pointed to the two straight-backed chairs in the tiny waiting room.
“I’ll wait in the showroom,” I said.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she said coldly, “but I have strict instructions from Mr. Ast to have all people wait in the—”
I grinned at her.
“It’s all right, sister,” I said kindly as I sat down in one of the soft showroom chairs. “Mr. Ast and I are very old friends.”
That sent her hopping back into her cage and I had time to examine the showroom. At five minutes to ten there was a commotion out in the little waiting room, the girl’s voice whispered excitedly, and then the doors swung open and Teddy came in like a tennis ball going out of bounds.
“Hello, there, Teddy,” I said with a grin.
He stopped short and tossed his hat and coat onto one of the couches.
“What the hell you doing here so early?” he asked.
“What’s so early about it?” I said. “It’s ten o’clock.”
He glanced at his wrist watch quickly.
“Yeah,” he said. “Damned if it isn’t. Well.” He stood there for a moment, gathering his wits. “I’ll tell you what, Harry. Just give me a few minutes to get myself organized around here, and I’ll be right with you. Okay?”
I looked at my own wrist watch.
“Well,” I said, “I’ve got another appointment at—All right, go ahead, Teddy. I can make it in plenty of time.”
He stood over a small showroom table and scanned mail, dictated a couple of letters, signed a check, okayed a half dozen orders, and sent the entire office staff of three girls hopping in and out in a steady chain, like circus elephants holding each other’s tails on their way from the big tent to the train.
“All right,” he said finally, waving everybody away. “That’s enough right now.” He lit a cigarette and pulled up a chair beside mine. “Boy,” he said as he sank into it with a sigh, “you don’t know how lucky you are you’re out of the dress business, Harry.”
“Too much for you, eh?” I said.
He sat erect at once.
“Too much?” he said. “Hell no. It’s just that—well, you know, sometimes for one person, it gets a little too—”
Not for the right person.
“What’s the matter, Teddy?” I said, grinning. “You offering me a partnership?”
He shook his head grimly.
“Once was enough, boy,” he said. “Any guy that goes back into partnership with you, Harry, ought to go out and give himself up. He’s nuts.”
What the hell made him so sure he was sane?
“Well, anyway,” I said. “What do you say we get started?”
“Suits me,” he said. “Tell me what you need and I’ll have my boy bring out the—”
“Frig that,” I said. “I take your word for the condition of the stuff. Velvets are velvets. Just see that they get a good steaming and get wrapped fairly well and it’ll be all right.”
I put my notebook on the small table bet
ween us and lifted out the orders I wanted filled. He checked with me on the quantity and the sizes.
“The colors may not be exactly like it says on these orders,” he began, “because after all—”
“That’s all right,” I said. “From my clients I get the discretion to pick out what I think is right. They want something in green, so okay, as long as it’s not blue or pink or yellow, it’s all right. That discretion I pass on to you.”
“Then you got nothing to worry about,” he said. “The orders’ll be filled promptly, and you’ll—”
Maybe I didn’t have anything to worry about, but there was one little item that he could have been devoting a little thought to.
“By the way,” I said casually, “what happened last night after I left, Teddy? You take Martha home?”
“Uh, no,” he said uncomfortably. “She hadda go to the theatre to take the performance after all, so I just took her over there and I left her and—” He stopped, but I didn’t take it from there.
“Say,” he said more briskly, “how’s your mother?”
“What?”
“How does she feel?” he asked. “Your mother. You said yesterday she was sick and you hadda go up to—”
“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. Well, she’s all right. She’s resting much better. It wasn’t as serious as we thought.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “I’m glad to hear that.”
I’d see how glad he’d be to get the next bit of information.
“Well, listen,” I said, “let’s wind this thing up here.” I pointed to the papers in his hand. “You’ve got the orders and the quantity, right?”
“Right.”
“Okay,” I said calmly. “You’re getting your regular price for them, twelve-seventy-five. But you’re gonna bill them out to my clients at fifteen-seventy-five. Right?”
He scowled at me quickly and sat up straight in his chair.
“Hey, now, wait a minute,” he said. “I didn’t say—!”
I wasn’t interested in what he’d said or hadn’t said. I was interested in what he was going to do. The profit on this one deal wasn’t important, even though it wasn’t tin. What I needed was someone with whom I could work it regularly, without depending on finding job lots. It was tough on Teddy, but he’d been elected for the post.
“What’s the matter, Teddy?” I said innocently. “That’s per our agreement, isn’t it?”
“What agreement?” he demanded angrily. “What the hell you talking about?”
“What’s the matter, your memory go on the fritz or something?” I said. “Don’t you remember our talking at the table last night when Martha went out for a minute?”
“I remember you talking,” he said sullenly. “But I didn’t say anything.”
He rarely displayed that much consideration for his listeners. But I wasn’t holding him to what he’d said. We’d made an agreement over and above our words.
“You don’t have to give me any of that horseshit now, Teddy,” I said evenly. “They took you out of knee pants a long time ago. You know what I’m talking about.”
He dropped his eyes from mine and looked at the orders on the table.
“Listen, Harry,” he said, “this is—”
“Regular twelve-seventy-five stuff,” I said coolly. “But you bill them out at fifteen-seventy-five.”
There was a long pause.
“All right,” he said finally, in a low voice.
I got up and tucked the notebook under my arm.
“So long, Teddy,” I said cheerfully. “When I get some more orders that I think you can fill for me, I’ll be dropping in to see you.”
7.
IT WASN’T QUITE TWELVE o’clock when I came to the apartment, but already there was activity in the bedroom.
“Who’s there?” she called, “Harry?”
“That’s right, Martha,” I said. “It’s me.”
She was sitting in front of the dressing table, combing her hair and humming. She looked at me in the mirror.
“What’s that you got there, Harry?”
“I brought you the papers.”
“Thanks,” she said, “I’ll read them later.”
I put them on the bed and she went back to her hair.
“Nice day out?” she asked.
“Not bad.” I sat down on the edge of the bed and watched her. She had helped me make a little over twelve hundred bucks that day. Maybe I’d buy her a box of handkerchiefs. “How come you’re up so early today?” I asked casually.
She shook her head and fluffed her hair out in the back.
“Rehearsal at two,” she said.
“By the way,” I said, bouncing myself up and down gently on the bed, “what did you think of that shrimp Ast?”
She didn’t even miss a stroke with the comb.
“Who?” she asked.
I wiped my face with my handkerchief to hide the smile that I couldn’t stop quickly enough.
“Ast,” I said. “You know, Teddy Ast. The guy I introduced you to last night at the table.”
“Oh, him!” she said. “He’s all right, I guess.”
“I had to leave in such a hurry last night,” I said, “that I was a little worried later about leaving you with practically a total stranger.”
If they were strangers, I was Rin Tin Tin.
“Oh, he was all right,” she said in an offhand way.
“Kind of an interesting guy, in his own way, isn’t he, Martha?”
“He didn’t do any card tricks at the table, if that’s what you mean,” she said, squinting at herself in the mirror.
“I hope he didn’t bore you,” I said, with the soft pedal on the sarcasm. “He’s such a brilliant guy, you know, he can have you chewing the tablecloth in—”
“Oh, he talked about the weather and he paid the check,” she said. “That’s about as much as you can expect from any man, I guess.”
Sailors and weather prophets. What an upbringing she’d had!
“When did he leave here last night?”
The hand holding the tweezers didn’t miss a hair.
“He didn’t even get here,” she said.
My teeth came together with a click.
“Not at all?”
This time I couldn’t quite keep the sarcasm out of my voice. She disregarded it completely.
“Not at all she,” she said.
I sat up on the bed and stopped bouncing.
“What kind of a—?” I began.
She stroked her eyebrow and examined it like it was a recently uncovered Rembrandt.
“He ran into some buyers in the restaurant,” she said, “and you know what I think of buyers.”
I knew what she thought of buyers. I wanted to know what she thought of Teddy Ast.
“So?”
“So I got up and said good night and thanks for the meal and I took a taxi to the theatre. That’s all.” That’s all, balls. “You know me, Harry. I always act like a perfect lady, even to your friends.”
“Didn’t even take you to the theatre, eh?”
“You didn’t introduce him as a gentleman,” she said. “So I wasn’t disappointed.”
I took my knee in my hand and watched the back of her head. What was going on here, anyway? He said he took her to the theatre; she said he didn’t. In my pocket I had duplicates of the charges he was going to jack up for me, which meant that he’d been here; but she said he hadn’t been. What was she becoming in her late twenties, modest?
“A fine gentleman that guy turned out to be!” I said in an annoyed voice. “I introduce him to a girl and I have to leave in a hurry, so he practically walks out on her. Doesn’t even take her home! Go introduce your friends around to him!”
“Maybe that’s the way he always acts,” she said.
“Well, it’s about time he learned to act different,” I said. “Just wait till I see the little baloney. I’ll tell him a thing or two. Or three.”
She swung around quickl
y.
“Oh, why bother about it, Harry. It’s not important. He doesn’t count. Why waste your time?”
“It’s no waste, of time to me,” I said sharply. “There’s nothing I enjoy so much as going around teaching people manners.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. You’re making a big fuss about nothing. He’s a completely unimportant person, and I don’t like to see you spending your—”
I pointed to the front of her negligee, which had begun to open in the excitement of her speech.
“Your whatchamacallit,” I said. “Better pull yourself together. You’re spilling out there.”
She bit her lip and drew the negligee around her. A cockeyed suspicion had suddenly begun to crawl over me. What had happened so far was all right because it was what I had wanted to happen. But if somewhere in the process the parties of the second and third parts—if she and he decided to—
“How’s your mother, Harry?” she asked.
“Well, don’t worry about her,” I said. “She’s all right.” I got up quickly and walked to the door. This little situation required immediate handling. “I’ll see you at—”
“Where you going, Harry?” she asked. “You going up to the Bronx again tonight?”
“I don’t know,” I said slowly. The hell I didn’t. You put these little snotnoses out on the leash for a while and the first thing you know, they meet a lamppost they like and they start getting ideas of their own. “It depends on how she feels,” I said. “I’ll have to call up later and find out.”
“Oh,” she said, and went back to tweezing her eyebrows.
“Well, I’ve gotta run now,” I said. “How about dinner before the show? All right?”
“All right.”
“Same place. I’ll be there about seven.”
“Right.”
“Harry?” she called from the bedroom.
“Yeah?”
“Why don’t you call up now and find out how she is?”
Either she thought I was blind, or she was getting damned careless. She knew me for eight months and she still didn’t know that if she wanted me to be in the Bronx very badly that night, the only thing she could be sure of was that the Bronx was the last place in the world I’d be in.
“It’s too early,” I said. “I’ll call later. See you at seven.”
“All right.”
What's in It for Me? Page 6