79 Park Avenue

by Harold Robbins

  Ross’s voice was calmer now. “When is all this goin’ to happen?”

  “It takes time for a deal like this,” Joker answered thoughtfully. “Kane says between five and ten years. Depends on the breaks.”

  “I’ll be an old man by then,” Ross snapped.

  Joker smiled broadly. “You’ll be the richest old man of thirty in the country.”

  “I don’t know,” Ross hesitated. “I could use the dough now.”

  Joker leaned across the desk, his voice lowered to a confidential tone. “Who can’t? I got ten shares like yours. Think I wouldn’t rather keep a hundred G’s kickin’ aroun’ in my pocket any day? Sure, but not when it’ll bring back a million. All legal that nobody can rap you for.”

  “You got a hundred grand in this?” Ross asked incredulously.

  Joker nodded.

  “How many shares are there out?” Ross continued.

  “One thousand shares.” Joker’s voice was flat.

  “Ten million bucks!” There was a note of awe in the boy’s voice.

  “An’ the only reason I’m lettin’ you in on it,” Joker said quickly, “is because I got big plans for you.”

  Ross looked at him through suddenly narrowed eyes. “What plans?”

  Joker leaned back in his chair. He took another cigar from his pocket and lit it. “This is a legit operation, see? No hood is goin’ to be able to go out there. It has to be real clean. I’m buildin’ you up to Kane to be the guy to handle the whole operation for us.”

  “Do you think it will work?” Ross asked.

  “It’ll work,” Joker said confidently.

  Ross picked up the stock certificate and looked at it. “You know, it’s beginning to look better to me already.”

  Joker smiled. “It smells like money, you mean.”

  Ross laughed as he put the certificate in his pocket. “One of the three smells I can’t resist. New money, new cars and new dames.”

  Joker grinned. “That reminds me. I just got a line on an old girl of yours, if you’re interested.”

  “Old girls don’t interest me,” Ross said quickly. “I told you, new dames.”

  “This one might,” Joker said smiling. “That blond polack kid—”

  “Marja?” Ross’s voice had a strange tone. It sounded as if it was almost painful to him to speak the name.

  “Yeah.” Joker spoke carefully. “I was thinkin’ of linin’ it up for myself, but first I wanted to check if you still had any ideas.”

  Ross looked down at his fingers. He had stepped into Joker’s trap neatly. There was nothing he could do or say now. He looked up at Joker. The older man was looking at him as an indulgent father would at a child. He kept his voice low. “I got no ideas, Joker. She’s all yours.”

  Chapter Five

  SHE SAT IN THE room and waited for the telephone to ring. A pile of cigarettes mounted in the tray. It was Friday morning. She had been here four days, and there was just enough money in her pocketbook for the rent. But Evelyn had said that she would call Friday morning. They had worked out everything between them.

  It had started in the laundry about six months before she came out. The slim, dark-haired girl who stood at the ironing-board opposite hers looked up suddenly.

  “What’re you gonna do when you get out, Mary?”

  Mary finished a pillowcase and began to fold it neatly. She thought for a moment. “I don’t know. Get a job, I guess. I never thought about it.”

  “What kind of job?”

  She began to press a sheet. “I don’t know. Any kind I can.”

  Evelyn laughed. “You’ll starve. Your ass’ll be out before you know it.”

  Mary looked at her curiously. “What’re you doing?”

  “I got plans,” Evelyn said mysteriously. “Big plans.”

  “Like what?”

  Evelyn started to answer, but saw a matron coming down the aisle toward them. She spoke quickly cut of the corner of her mouth. “See me when the lights are out tonight an’ I’ll tell yuh. I think we can do somethin’ together.”

  It was almost ten o’clock when Mary stood at the side of Evelyn’s bed and looked down at her. “Are yuh up?” she whispered.

  The dark-haired girl sat upright. “Yeah.”

  Mary sat down on the edge of the bed. “What’re you goin’ to do?”

  “I’m gonna make me some real money. I’m goin’ into show business. My boy-friend is fixin’ up a place for me when I get out.”

  “When is that?” Mary asked.

  “Three days after you,” Evelyn said. “He tol’ me to find a partner and start workin’ up an act. That’s why I spoke to you. I think we’d make a good team, with you blonde and me dark. That’s what they like. Contrast.”

  Mary hesitated, a growing suspicion in her mind. “What kind of act?” she whispered. “I don’t know any routines.”

  Evelyn laughed silently. “I can show you all the routines in one night.”

  “Oh,” Mary said. “That?”

  Evelyn shook her head. “It’s better’n beatin’ your head in for ten bucks a week.”

  “I don’t know,” Mary said. “I never thought about it.”

  “Pipe down!” a voice called from one of the beds. “We’re tryin’ to get some sleep.”

  Evelyn threw back the cover. “Get in here with me,” she said quickly. “We can talk without them longears hearin’ us.”

  “I think I better go back to bed,” Mary said.

  Evelyn’s white teeth gleamed. “Chicken?”

  Mary didn’t answer. She moved over on the bed and Evelyn pulled the cover over them. They lay there quietly for a moment. Mary could feel the warmth coming from the girl’s body. “What’s real money?” she asked.

  “Twenty to thirty bucks a day, each,” Evelyn whispered. “And it’s easy.”

  Mary was still. Money was the only important thing. Without it you were a bum. Besides, there was nothing more for her. No decent guy would have her if he found out what had happened. “What’s the routine?” she asked.

  The girl didn’t answer. Her hands moved swiftly, and Mary caught her breath. She twisted away. “Cut it!” she snapped.

  “You asked me what the routine was,” the girl said.

  “Yeah,” Mary whispered fiercely. “but I didn’t think you were a …”

  “I’m not,” Evelyn whispered. “That’s the routine.”

  The day before Mary left, Evelyn helped her pack her valise. “Remember what I told you,” she said. “Wait in your room Friday morning until I call.”

  “I’ll remember,” Mary answered …

  She looked at her watch again. It was almost noon. She put out her cigarette and placed her valise on the bed. Slowly she began to pack. There would be no call, and she had to get out anyway while she still had enough money to pay the bill.

  The ’phone rang. She picked it up quickly. “Evelyn?”

  A man’s voice answered. “This is Joe, Evelyn’s boy friend. She’s outside in the car. You ready?”

  “I’m almost packed,” she said.

  “Good,” he said. “I’ll come up and get you.”

  She had finished packing by the time he knocked at the door. She opened it. A big florid man stood there. She smiled at him. “Joe?”

  He nodded and came into the room, holding out his hand. She took it. “You’re just as pretty as Evelyn said you would be,” he said in a false hearty voice.

  She dropped his hand quickly. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m ready to go now.” She moved toward the ’phone. “I’ll call a boy.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t,” he said. “I’ll take the bag out the side door for you. You go out the front door as if you’re stepping out. No bill that way.”

  She looked at him steadily. “I pay my bills, thanks.”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It’s your money.”

  She picked up the ’phone and called the desk.

  Evelyn was sitting in the car. She smiled as t
hey approached it. “I was wondering if you’d still be there, honey.”

  “I’d about given you up,” Mary confessed as she climbed in beside her.

  Evelyn grinned. “Joe was anxious, so we stopped off for a minute while he picked up his bags.”

  Mary looked quickly at her friend. Evelyn’s face was faintly flushed. “He picked up his bags?” she questioned.

  “Yeah,” Joe grunted as he put the car into gear and they moved out into traffic. “Yuh don’t expect a guy to go away without his clothes.”

  “Go away?” Mary echoed. “Where are we goin’?”

  “Florida,” Joe said. “Miami. I got a great little apartment out in North Beach. The pickin’s will be great there this season.”

  The tall grey-haired man stepped up to the desk. “Mary Flood, please. Room twelve-oh-four.”

  The desk clerk looked up at him. “You just missed her, sir. She checked out five minutes ago.”

  Joker Martin stared at him. “Checked out?” A suspicion leaped into his mind. “Was there anyone with her?”

  The desk clerk nodded. “There was a gentleman, sir.”

  “What did he look like?” Joker demanded.

  “He was a big man, sir. About your height. Red face.”

  “Oh.” Joker turned away from the desk.

  “Is there anything wrong, sir?” the desk clerk asked.

  Joker looked back at him. “No, nothing wrong.” He walked through the lobby to the street. At least it wasn’t Ross. At first he had thought it might have been, but Ross was dark and not as tall as he.

  He pushed through the revolving door into the street. It served him right for waiting. He should have come right over when he heard about her. He might have known that a girl like her wouldn’t take long in making a connection. He pushed a cigar into his mouth and chewed on it without lighting it. Maybe it was just as well for the while. He had too many things on his mind. He could wait.

  She would turn up again. Sooner or later they all turned up again.

  Chapter Six

  FOR THE THIRD consecutive morning he watched her coming out of the water. She came from the sea like a goddess. She was wearing a white bathing-suit that hung on her figure as if it were her skin. Her high, full breasts, tiny waist, slim yet generous hips seemed carved out of white marble. Slowly she pulled off the white bathing-cap. A mass of sparkling white-gold hair tumbled down around her sun-darkened face.

  Slowly she walked up the beach to her blanket. She bent and picked up a towel and rubbed herself vigorously. He could almost feel the animal tingling of the towel against his skin. He had never seen anyone enjoy herself as much as this girl coming out of the water.

  He knew what she would do next. She would stretch out on the blanket, loosen the shoulder straps of her suit, and lie in the sun. Not once would she glance up at the crest of the small hill where his house looked over the ocean. After she had been in the sun for an hour she would get up and neatly pack all her things in a small beach bag. Then she would slip a robe over her shoulders, walk down to the edge of the beach, climb into a small convertible, and drive off.

  That was the routine she followed every morning. He could almost set his clock by her. He would see her from his bedroom window every morning walking up the beach at eleven o’clock. This had happened regularly since he had come down to Florida toward the end of January, almost three weeks ago. He had first seen her the night after the Senator’s party.

  He had awakened with a terrible hangover and had yelled for his man to bring him some tomato juice. But Tom was half deaf and either couldn’t or wouldn’t hear him. Angrily he tumbled out of bed and crossed to the bellpull near the window. He leaned on it heavily, looking out the window.

  She was coming out of the water then. In the hazy morning light he thought she was nude. When his head cleared, he could see her white suit. He turned away thinking himself a fool. But the next morning he found himself at the window hoping she would appear.

  “Jerk!” he told himself. “You’re Gordon Paynter. You’re supposed to be the catch of the season. Every mother in Florida has set her daughter’s cap for you, and you’re mooning after some dame on the beach. You don’t even know who she is. She’s probably some cracker without a thought in her head except for the sun and the sand.”

  Suddenly he was aware of his man standing next to him. He turned quickly. Tom was staring down at the beach. “That’s a right purty gal, Mr. Gordon,” Tom said.

  Gordon smiled. “Is that why I can’t get you in the mornings? You’ve been watching her, too?”

  Tom looked up at him. He spoke with a familiarity that came from long association. “I may be old, Mr. Gordon, but I got eyes.”

  “Do you know who she is?” Gordon asked.

  “Uh-uh,” the old man answered. “I never see’d her nowhere but here.”

  “Do you think she would have lunch up here?”

  The old man looked at him with suddenly wise eyes. “Y’ cain’t tell unless you ax her.”

  Gordon turned and looked down at the beach. Stretched out on her blanket, she almost blended with the sand. He grinned. “Go ahead, Tom. Ask her to lunch with me.”

  She lay quietly in the sand, her head resting on her arms. The warm sun burned into her back. It was a good, clean heat. It wasn’t a dirty heat like the white lights that had shone down on her at last night’s show. She thought of the men whose stares hung on her body almost like something you could feel. What were men like that they could find their kicks in second-hand exhibitions?

  The worst part of the whole thing was making them understand, after the show was over, that that was all. She had nothing more for them. She and Evelyn would dress and they would wait outside in the car while Joe picked up the other half of their money. Then they would drive off.

  Usually Evelyn and Joe would go out somewhere, but she went right home and climbed into the tub. A hot bath cleaned out a lot of the poisons. Then she would go to bed, read awhile, and then fall asleep. Sometimes she would awaken when Joe and Evelyn came home.

  In the morning she would be up while they were still asleep, put on her bathing-suit, go out to the car, and drive down to the beach. They would be up when she got back from the beach, and usually she would make breakfast. Then Joe and Evelyn would dress and go to the race track. They would come back in the late afternoon. Occasionally they blew all their money and had to borrow from her for the next day. They never repaid her, but she knew better than to ask them for it.

  On the whole, it wasn’t too bad. She had managed to save about five hundred dollars, which she kept in a savings bank in Miami. Once a week she would go into town and catch a picture, have lunch, and stop at the bank. The routines, as Evelyn called them, had long since stopped bothering her. She was able to regard them impersonally. After all, they were a kind of performance. You didn’t have to feel anything to put on an act.

  It was almost time for her to turn over. Her back was warm and toasted. As she began to roll over, she became aware of someone standing near her. She sat up quickly, her hands holding the bathing-suit straps in front of her.

  A wizened, grey-haired coloured man was standing there. He smiled at her. “Ma’am,” he said in a gentle, hesitating voice.

  “Yes?” she answered coldly.

  “Mistuh Gordon Payntuh’s compliments to you, ma’am,” the old man said formally, “an’ would like you to jine him for lunch up in his house.”

  Her eyes followed the half-wave of his hand to the house on the crest. She had noticed the house before. It was a rich man’s place, with an iron fence running all around it and right down to the beach. She turned back to the coloured man. “Tell Mr. Paynter that I appreciate his invitation, but if he wants to ask me to lunch, he can damn well come down here and ask me himself.”

  A smile twinkled deep in the old man’s eyes. “Yes, ma’am,” he said gravely. “I’ll sho’ tell him.” He bowed slightly and turned back toward the house.

  Mary watched hi
m walk away and begin the climb toward the house. Then she stretched out on the sand and closed her eyes. A strange way to pick up a girl—send a servant after her. She wondered what Mr. Paynter was like. Probably some old geezer with one foot in the grave. Probably she had put him in his place. She dozed a few minutes, then prepared to leave.

  She had already packed her bag and was starting toward the car when she heard the sound of footsteps in the sand. She turned back.

  A young man was running toward her. He was wearing white duck pants and a white knit shirt. His hair was light-brown and curly in the ocean wind. “Miss!” he called. “Miss!”

  She waited for him to come up. He was tall, and his eyes were light blue. His face was a little heavy and there were slight lines of dissipation around his mouth and eyes.

  “I thought you would leave before I got here.” His voice rasped heavily after his unaccustomed exercise. “But I had to get some clothes on.”

  She didn’t speak.

  He smiled suddenly. “Man, am I out of condition! I can’t catch my breath. I’m Gordon Paynter.”

  He watched her closely. She made no sign of recognising the name. She still didn’t speak.

  “I’ve seen you swimming several times. People generally don’t come this far up the beach. It’s too lonely here.” He was breathing easier now.

  Her voice was low. “That’s why I like it. I don’t want to be bothered by people.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I just thought it would be nice if—”

  “Thanks, Mr. Paynter,” she said quickly. “It was nice of you. Maybe some other time.” She turned away.

  “Let me walk to your car with you,” he said. “I’ve seen you somewhere, I’m sure. Was it at the Senator’s party?”

  She looked at him swiftly. His face was open and free of guile. He didn’t look like the type who attended those stags. He was just fishing. She smiled slowly. “I don’t think we’ve met, Mr. Paynter.”

  “You’re sure, Miss, er—Miss—?”