by David Barry
She stopped and looked at him, her eyes glazed through alcohol, but still piercing in their intensity. ‘Can’t it wait till morning? I’m all in. ‘
‘I know what’s going on,’ he lied. ‘I know all about him. You did well to pick a Broadway director. ‘
Her expression told him that his guess had hit the bull’s-eye. She swayed ever so slightly, then collected herself and went over to the table and sank into a chair, banging her elbows down and ruffling the damask tablecloth.
‘How did you find out?’ she moaned. ‘Oh, don’t tell me. You hired a private detective and had me followed. Or maybe you got one of your criminal pals to spy on me. ‘
‘I guessed,’ he said.
She looked across at him, amazement spread across her face, as if no one was capable of such deduction.
‘You guessed?’
He nodded, giving her the trace of an understanding smile. ‘Well, things between us haven’t been exactly -’ He coughed lightly, giving himself time to choose the right words. ‘Well, let’s face it, for some time now, we haven’t been lovers. And you don’t seem to like it whenever I touch you. You react as if you’ve been burned. ‘
She went to speak and he held up a hand to indicate that she should hear him out.
‘Look, I quite understand. I’m really not blaming you. I just want for you to be happy. We can still be friends, can’t we? I really don’t want us to end up as enemies. ‘
She stared at him for a long while, thinking it over. Then she threw him an affectionate smile as tears appeared from nowhere and ran down her cheeks. She got up from the table and hurried over and sat next to him on the sofa.
‘Oh, Bill,’ she said, burying her head on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve hated myself for what I was doing to you. I’m so glad you understand. ‘
He slipped his arms comfortingly around her shoulders.
Bill sat at his desk, examined a Western Union wire and smiled contentedly. He raised a cup of hot, black coffee to his lips and blew on it. Over the rim of the cup he could see the apartment window, the rain lashing against the grubby pane, rivulets of dirty-grey streaming from top to bottom. It was such blinding rain he could barely see the buildings across the street.
The apartment was a touch on the seedy side, and he wondered why Jack had chosen it. Maybe his partner felt they might have to abandon it once the job was done, and there was no sense in being lavish in renting a fancy apartment, since the only important thing was to have an address in the theatre district.
He took little sips of coffee and stared thoughtfully at the letter-headed paper by his typewriter, which he’d had printed out of town. The Waverley School of Dramatic Art, with the address and phone number of the apartment.
There was a light tap at the door, followed by a key in the lock, and Jack let himself in. His light-grey hat was dark from the wet and his raincoat dripped water onto the threadbare carpet. He took them off and hung them on a peg next to a Western Union uniform. Bill noticed that he seemed flushed, almost excited, though he rarely made a display of emotion, as if he found revealing his feelings was in some way self-indulgent.
‘I can’t believe we’re ready,’ he said. ‘This time tomorrow we’ll be rich. ‘
Bill showed him the wire. ‘This little beauty gets us inside the bank. ‘
He had sent the wire to himself, steamed it open, typed the bank manager’s name on a blank, inserted it in the envelope and re-sealed it.
Jack grinned at him and nodded at the pile of Waverley School paper by the Underwood. ‘I think you could have become an actor yourself. ‘
‘Well, tomorrow I’ll be giving my best performance. ‘ said Bill, and glanced at the Western Union uniform. He mumbled his own reassuring mantra. ‘Uniforms are official. Uniforms can open doors.‘
Something about the uniform made Jack feel uneasy. He frowned, pulled up a chair and sat next to Bill.
‘Just one thing that bothers me. Returning the uniform to the costumiers after the job. I’m not sure about that. ‘
‘We’ve been through this, Jack. Believe me, it’s the best way. By the time the Jamaica cops have alerted all the other precincts, and the story’s hit the papers, that uniform’ll be back at the costumiers. The Waverley School of Drama hired that uniform over a week ago for their school production. If you don’t return it, they’ll be onto us for certain. But chances are, once back in their stock, they won’t give it another thought. ‘
Jack nodded grudgingly. ‘Sure. I know you’re right. It’s just as I was the one who went to collect it, means I’m going to have to return it. ‘
‘It’s the best way, Jack. That way they won’t notice anything unusual. ‘
‘Let’s hope you’re right. ‘
Bill took a sip of coffee and frowned thoughtfully. ‘There’s something else we need to talk about. If any of the bank staff decide to play hero, shoot to miss, Jack. Fire just above their heads. It should be enough to stop them. ‘
‘Sure. Like you, Bill, I ain’t gonna walk that last mile. ‘
‘It’s not that. If we shot anyone, I could never live with myself. And as soon as the job’s over, get rid of the gun. ‘
Jack stared at his partner, an objection forming on his lips.
‘If the cops get on to us,’ Bill continued. ‘We don’t want guns. Theirs or ours. ‘
The tension seemed to go out of Jack’s shoulders, and he gave Bill a devil-may-care grin. ‘They won’t get on to us, Bill. So who needs a gun?’
Jack went through to the kitchenette, got himself a cup of coffee and a pint bottle of bourbon, then came back to the living room. He poured a slug of bourbon into his coffee, then offered to pour some into Bill’s.
Bill shook his head. ‘You know me. Never was much of a drinker.‘
Jack took this as a criticism of his own habits.
‘I don’t have a problem with it, Bill. You know that. ‘
‘I know. It’s just that whisky and dames don’t mix in this business. Doc Tate taught me that. ‘
‘Shame he didn’t stick to his own advice. ‘
‘What do you mean by that?’
Unaware of just how close Bill had been to Doc Tate, Jack treated the news as a juicy morsel of criminal fraternity gossip, something to be enjoyed in the telling.
‘You mean you haven’t heard? He was sent down for twenty at Alcatraz. Some floozy shopped him. He died in some crazy fight there. Knifed in the guts, I believe’
Shaken by the news, Bill got unsteadily to his feet, went over to the window and stared at the raindrops running down the window pane like teardrops. He felt a curious sensation of numbness, like a dull ache that he’d lived with all his life.
Jack, sensitive to the sudden change in his partner, cleared his throat gently before speaking. ‘I’m sorry, Bill. I thought you knew. Sure you won’t have that tipple now?’
Bill shook his head adamantly. ‘Especially now,’ he said.
Bill always sought refuge in books, and that same afternoon he was drawn to the public library. He loved the atmosphere of this sanctum, with its comforting, slightly musty smell, and the peace and quiet, broken only by echoing footsteps and muffled voices. He sat at a table and tried to lose himself in a large volume on ancient Greek history. But his thoughts kept returning to the news about Doc. Random images came at him like scraps of half-remembered truths. . . Doc strolling along Broadway, white-gloved and debonair. A safe swinging open. Locks being picked. Doc at a speakeasy, laughing over some ribald story. . . then some harsher images intruded. . . a blade sinking into flesh. Doc’s face, soundlessly screaming with pain, like an old movie without the piano accompaniment, his head smashing into the callous stone of the exercise yard. . .
With a sigh, Bill closed the book. He was about to get up from the table when someone brushed close behind
him. He looked round and saw her at the same instant that she recognized him. Her face lit up, and he was dazzled by the radiance of her genuine smile and the joy of meeting him. He pushed back his chair and rose hurriedly.
‘Bill?’ she asked, the smile fading slightly, as if she doubted her first instinct. ‘Is it really you?’
He was struck by her beauty. And the sudden and unexpected reunion threw him into a quandary. She’d been a pretty little ten year old kid when he’d eloped with Bessie.
He’d been friends with her older brother Oscar. And now here she was, looking up at him, her big brown eyes aglow, and an amused smile playfully tugging her mouth, so that he wanted to embrace her.
‘You don’t remember me? Louise Leudeman. ‘
‘Of course I remember you,’ he said. ‘How could I ever forget you? It’s good to see you, Louise. It really is. ‘
They stood looking at one another, smiling foolishly. Then she awkwardly transferred the pile of books she was carrying into her left hand and offered him her hand.
‘And it’s good to see you,’ she said, as he shook her hand. ‘Fancy bumping into you like this, after all these years. ‘
From somewhere close by, there came an irritated shushing sound. They both looked at each other and stifled a giggle, like naughty children caught out in some minor mischief. Bill leaned closer to her.
‘What do you say we go somewhere for a coffee?’ he whispered.
She nodded and smiled. ‘Yes, I’d like that. ‘
Seated opposite one another in the diner, Louise looked at Bill with such warmth and affection that he found it difficult to speak. They had made stilted small talk to begin with, then Bill had fallen silent. For the first time in his life he felt terribly shy, and he couldn’t work out why. But he was comfortable with the silence, enjoying the anticipation of getting to know her. And, because he knew Louise to be a gentle soul, he thought that his timidity might work in his favor.
She laughed suddenly, and shook her head.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘To think I had a crush on you when I was fourteen. ‘
‘Did you?’
‘You know very well I did. ‘
From the warmth of her gaze, and the almost-whispered sensuality of her words, Bill felt an overwhelming sensation of love, as if he was being drawn like a magnet towards her softness. He was certain, more certain than he’d ever felt towards any other girl, that she was the only one for him. He was almost tempted to declare his love to her, then told himself not to be so ridiculous. He hardly knew her. He looked away briefly. His eyes quickly traveled round the diner and he began to feel good about everything. The other customers, even the obese woman in the far corner, shoveling a gargantuan portion of apple pie into her mouth, seemed beautiful in a very human kind of way. From behind the lunch counter a radio was softly playing ‘Star Dust’, which heightened the sense of romance that was growing inside him. His eyes met Louise’s again.
‘I was eight years older than you,’ he said.
‘You still are eight years older than me. ‘ Louise replied, a teasing look in her eyes.
Bill laughed. His voice was low and husky when he spoke. ‘But that was nine years ago. You were just a kid back then. And now - well, now you’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. ‘
He could feel himself blushing. Louise noticed his embarrassment and was pleased that he was able to flatter her but with a degree of shyness. She found this trait utterly endearing and knew she’d been right to have had a crush on him all those years ago.
‘Not that you weren’t beautiful back then,’ he went on, more to cover his embarrassment than to flatter her.
Suddenly reminded of something, she frowned. ‘Why did you run off with that girl?’
He found the sudden change disconcerting.
‘Bessie?’ he said. ‘We wanted to get married. ‘
‘I think she was a bad influence on you. Stealing from her own father like that. ‘
‘The robbery was all my idea. ‘
‘We all do things we regret when we’re young and foolish,’ she said, with a faraway look in her eyes.
He wondered what things Louise might have done that she regretted. He couldn’t imagine her doing anyone any harm, or even so much as harbouring bad thoughts about someone.
She tipped a small spoonful of sugar into her cup, and stirred it thoughtfully. When their eyes met again, she said, ‘ When they arrested you, I cried my eyes out for days and days. I thought you’d end up in prison. ‘
‘Yeah, well,’ he began awkwardly, ‘her old man wanted it kept quiet. That’s what saved me from a jail sentence. ‘
She gave him a gentle, compassionate smile. ‘You’re a good man, Bill. To think you very nearly became a criminal. ‘
He fidgeted with his cigarette packet and stared into his coffee cup. ‘I’m all straightened out now, thank God. ‘
‘What line of business are you in?’
‘I’m a manager in Mr. Schultz’s organization. ‘
‘And what is it you manage?’
‘Oh, he owns many properties. ‘ Bill forced himself to look into her eyes. ‘When I say I manage them, I suppose I’m nothing more than a glorified rent collector. ‘ He coughed lightly, then indicated her coffee cup. ‘Refill?’
She glanced at her watch. ‘I have to get going. I said I’d meet Oscar at work. He’s in the garment industry. ‘
‘Give him my very best regards when you see him. ‘
‘I will. ‘
Bird-like wings fluttered in Bill’s stomach as he thought he might lose her. He felt awkward and nervous. All those things a much younger man feels when he wants to ask a girl out on a date. He thought his voice might come out sounding leaden and stupid, and was surprised when it sounded perfectly normal.
‘If you’re not too busy how about dinner some night?’
Louise looked at him for a moment and he thought she was going to turn him down. Then she smiled, took a diary out of her handbag, and made a great show of flicking through the empty pages.
‘Well now, I find myself unexpectedly available later tonight. ‘
Bill considered it. Early tomorrow morning he and Jack would be setting off for Long Island and he was already starting to feel nervous about the job.
‘I have to meet a potential client for Mr Schultz tonight. ‘
Louise flicked over a page in her diary. ‘And I’m free tomorrow night,’ she said with a small laugh.
Bill grinned back at her. ‘Tomorrow it is then. We’ll push the boat out. I hope to have clinched a good deal by then. ‘
‘As long as it’s not another robbery,’ she said.
He went suddenly cold until he realized she was joking. He laughed and shook his head. And when he looked at the innocent expression on her face, the purity of her smile, he almost felt guilty about lying to her.
They parked just around the corner from the bank. Bill had bought a Dodge in which to make their getaway. Nothing too conspicuous, but he knew the car to be fairly reliable. He had bought it in Newark and, all being well, that’s where he planned to sell it after the job.
Jack wore a grey fedora and brown rimmed spectacles with plain glass in them. Bill was dressed in the Western Union uniform but hadn’t put his hat on yet, which lay on the floor under the passenger seat. He was clutching a small black briefcase and he sported a moustache. He had also used matching crepe hair to join his eyebrows in the middle and his face was fatter-looking from the cotton wool in his cheeks.
Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and glanced at his watch. ‘Seven-fifty,’ he said. ‘The guard should arrive within the next ten minutes. ‘
Bill nodded towards Jamaica Avenue. ‘The main street’s already busy. That’s a good sign. Everybody g
oing about their business. No one’ll pay us any attention. ‘
They had been out here every day for a week to observe the employees arriving at the bank. The guard was the first to arrive at eight, then the staff and manager arrived around eight-thirty, and the bank opened at nine. The staff were always punctual. . Their biggest fear was the unexpected arrival of an armored vehicle and security guards. But if that happened, they had already decided, they would abort the robbery and return the following day.
‘You nervous?’ Bill asked.
Jack breathed in deeply through his mouth and exhaled loudly before speaking. ‘I’ll be okay. Strange though it may seem, I feel more excited than nervous. ‘
Bill smiled. ‘I know what you mean. For the first time in years, I really feel alive. ‘
He thought about his meeting with Louise the previous day. He had felt alive then, too. But somehow this was different. This was excitement stretched to the limit. . . this was the greatest challenge in the world. This was a lifetime of stress crammed into one glorious moment, the emotions fizzing like a firecracker about to explode. He was an athlete poised at the starting line, under orders. . . adrenaline pumping, blood surging. . . like a cock stiffening. . .
Jack coughed lightly. Bill checked his watch and put his Western Union hat on. ‘Okay. Let’s go,’ he said.
This was it. The moment had arrived. Make or break time.
As prearranged, Bill walked several paces ahead of Jack and rounded the corner into Jamaica Avenue. The bank’s front entrance was just a few yards from the corner. Bill stopped and searched through his briefcase for the telegram. Jack overtook him, walked to the other side of the bank and stood looking into the window of a delicatessen.
Sure enough, the bank guard, a beefy man with a large midriff, arrived dead on eight o’clock. Bill waited for him to let himself in, then ambled slowly towards the door. He caught Jack’s eye on the other side of the door, and could feel the tension coming from him, like an animal about to pounce on its quarry. His heart pounding out a tattoo on his ribcage, he took a deep breath, and felt the adrenaline rushing through his body as he raised his finger and rang the doorbell.