Willie the Actor

by David Barry

  He threw a dollar bill onto the table, waved at Kitty, and departed. Out on the street a sweet smell of fresh doughnut mixed with gasoline drifted on the hot air. He managed to hail a cab in less than thirty seconds and instructed the cabby to take him to Jack’s billiards club. As he sank back into the seat, he wondered if it was now too dangerous to do the Rosenthal store in three weeks’ time. He also wondered if it was time to find another partner.

  Chapter Six

  June, 1931

  The Rosenthal store robbery started to go wrong when the elderly store manager began shaking like he suffered from Parkinson’s disease. He attempted to spin the combination dial of the safe but his hands shook violently. He stammered as he tried to remember the combination, but the fear of having a loaded gun aimed at him had turned his brain to jelly. Bill doubted the man could spell his own name if asked. His eyes were watery as he turned to Bill and said, ‘I’ve forgotten the combination. ‘

  Bill knew he was telling the truth. The man was in shock. As were the other three employees, who sat in a row, frozen like alabaster statues.

  ‘Anyone else know the combination?’ Bill snapped.

  They were so scared they were incapable of speech. Eventually, it was the black porter who spoke. He seemed calm, indifferent almost.

  ‘Mr. Rosenthal’s the only other person who knows the combination. ‘

  ‘And what time does the boss get here?’ Bill asked.

  ‘Not much before ten. ‘

  It was almost nine. The store was due to open any minute now. And they had no way to get inside that safe. It seemed as if they might have to abort this robbery and come away empty handed. So far everything had gone according to plan, Bill reflected. The Negro porter had arrived at the store at eight. Then just before half-eight he and Jack barged their way in, using Western Union telegram trick that had worked so well on their first bank job. Everything had been plain sailing up until now. And having come this far Bill felt bitter about calling off the hold-up. He stared at the porter. He could feel the man’s eyes burning into him. The guy was infuriatingly unruffled, peering at Bill as if it was a staring game to see who could break first. Then something clicked in Bill’s head and he was suddenly grateful for the porter’s composure.

  ‘Where would Mr. Rosenthal be right now?’ he demanded.

  The porter shrugged. ‘At home I guess. ‘

  ‘Right! Phone him. Tell him the manager called in to say he’s ill and hasn’t shown up. Say there are a couple of early customers here and no one can open the safe. ‘

  The porter hesitated. Bill started to raise his gun to the man’s head when Jack came to the rescue, using the same technique Bill had used at the Bronx County Savings Bank.

  ‘Do it,’ he snapped, aiming his gun at one of the employees legs. ‘Otherwise one of these gets a bullet in the knees and spends the rest of their days in a wheelchair. ‘

  Calmly the porter gave a small nod of acquiescence before going over to the telephone, with Bill following closely behind. He began to dial his boss’s number. Everyone in the store listened to the dial whirring as the tension heightened. One of the employees, a young girl of nineteen, began sobbing, heaving and gulping air.

  ‘Shut up!’ Jack yelled angrily.

  She was silenced, letting great rivers of tears flood down her cheeks, while her body shook quietly. They could hear the phone ringing at the boss’s end. After three rings it was answered. Calmly the porter told his boss everything Bill had told him to say. As he spoke, he did nothing to arouse the store owner’s suspicions, and spoke without any sign of agitation. He then called out the combination as his boss recited it, while Bill wrote it on a sheet of paper by the phone. The porter calmly thanked his boss and hung up.

  ‘Okay,’ Bill told him. ‘You did well. ‘

  Bill exchanged a brief grin with Jack. It had been that easy. Saved at the last minute by the credibility of the Negro porter. He went over to the safe, spun the dial, and opened it. It was filled with jewelry of all kinds, but Bill only took the diamonds, which were less identifiable and more difficult to trace. Then, using the third accomplice routine, they departed hurriedly and melted into the Broadway crowds.

  Two weeks later Bill marched along Broadway towards Bill Dwyer’s saloon. He crunched into a juicy apple and was humming ‘Twelfth Street Rag’. He had donned his best chalk-stripe blue suit, with a navy fedora worn at a slightly jaunty angle, and he was feeling on top of the world. The attaché case he was carrying contained a valuable load and today was payday. He had arranged to meet his old boss, Dutch Schultz, who was going to fence the diamonds. The daily papers had been full of the robbery, and Bill discovered the diamonds were really hot. So hot, in fact, that the insurance companies were offering huge rewards to get them back, and an amnesty for their return. Bill had been wary of using the usual fences, which was why he’d chosen the Dutchman. He knew Schultz would only give him a fraction of their value, but at least he could be relied on not to turn him or the diamonds in.

  Dwyer’s saloon was quiet and gloomy, with only two customers seated at the bar. Bill ordered a beer then headed for the men’s room to wash the apple-stickiness from his hands. As he pushed open the door, he was greeted by a hacking smoker’s cough from behind the partition which divided the urinals from the washroom. He was about to turn the faucet on at the sink, when a rasping man’s voice caught his attention; though it was more what he said that made him sit up.

  ‘The Dutchman’s had it coming for a long time. ‘

  ‘Wait till he sits down,’ said another man. ‘Then let him have it. ‘

  Bill looked up at the partition which divided the washroom and there was a large gap at the top. Maybe the two men thought it went right to the ceiling and didn’t think they could be overheard. And because one of them had coughed when he entered, they had no idea he was there. But he had to get out fast and warn the Dutchman. Not only that, they might hear him leaving and come after him.

  He pulled open the door and darted through, at the same time pulling out his wallet. He strode down the bar and threw a dollar bill on the counter.

  ‘Be right back,’ he told the bartender. ‘Left something in the office.’

  He wasn’t certain from which direction Schultz would be coming, so he dodged into a shop doorway just half a block away from Dwyer’s, where he could keep his eye on the premises. He wondered if the two men had heard him leaving the washroom; if that was the case, they weren’t going to stick around. But he didn’t see anyone come out of the saloon, so he guessed that they hadn’t heard his flight from the men’s room and were now waiting to kill the Dutchman.

  Bill waited five minutes, then he saw the Dutchman coming along on the opposite side of the street. Bill hurriedly crossed over, dodging in and out of the traffic, grabbed Schultz by the arm, and said:

  ‘Come on. Let’s get out of here. ‘

  Bill had dragged Schultz a couple of paces, when the gangster resisted, stopped and tugged back his arm. He seemed affronted and angry that Bill had dared to grab him in this fashion, and there was chilling look in his eye.

  ‘What’s going on?’ he demanded.

  ‘I was in the washroom at Dwyer’s and I overheard two men plotting to kill you. They said they were going to let you have it soon as you sat down. ‘

  Schultz’s hand reached inside his jacket and Bill could tell he had a gun holstered. The gangster made to cross the street, then stopped.

  ‘Who were they? D’you know?’

  ‘I didn’t get a look at them. ‘

  Schultz jerked his shoulders audaciously as he asked Bill, ‘How many customers in there?’

  ‘Two guys at the bar,’

  ‘And just the two guys in the washroom?’

  Bill nodded. He guessed what was coming.

  ‘I’m going in there to get
them,’ Schultz growled, and stood poised on the edge of the sidewalk, waiting for a gap in the traffic.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ said Bill. ‘They’re expecting you. They’ll be ready. As soon as you go inside, they’ll start shooting. Someone must have known you were coming to Dwyer’s for a meeting. Someone in your organization. ‘

  Bill could see the Dutchman thinking hard, the cogs fitting into place. Then his face darkened. ‘The dirty, no-good fuckers,’ he snarled. He thought about this betrayal a while longer, then his face broke out into a malevolent grin, while his eyes showed a streak of cruelty and coldness that sent a grave-treading shiver down Bill’s spine.

  ‘They’ll beg for death by the time I’m through with them,’ added the Dutchman. Then he brushed the thought aside like a small insect and said to Bill, ‘Okay, let’s take a look at those rocks. ‘

  They took a short walk to one of Schultz’s offices on Fifth Avenue. It was a large single room, and Bill guessed that this was a private sanctum for occasions such as this, free from the prying eyes of henchmen and hangers-on; for in an organization like Schultz’s, he was bound to make many enemies, as Bill had just discovered. But Schultz was not the sort of man one should double-cross, as Bill had just witnessed, and he could imagine that his ex-boss’s retribution would be brutal and sadistic.

  Bill sat in front of the large paperless desk. The office walls were covered with sporting photographs, mainly of boxers. Behind Schultz’s desk there was one of Jack Dempsey in action, when he took the world heavyweight title from Jess Willard. Bill glanced around the opulent office, which seemed more like a gentlemen’s sporting club than a place of business. There was even a stuffed deer’s head on one of the walls, and Bill wondered if it was a trophy Schultz had shot himself.

  ‘Okay,’ said the Dutchman as he sat in his creaking leather chair, ‘Let’s see what you’ve got. ‘

  Bill opened the attaché case, took out a biscuit tin incongruously decorated with a cute black-and-white kitten wearing a red ribbon, opened the lid and delicately unfolded the cloth bundle within to reveal the sparkling collection of diamonds. As he pushed them across the desk, he almost fancied Schultz’s eyes glittered greedily from their prismatic reflection.

  From the daily papers, Bill knew their value to be $130,000 and he waited to see what his ex-boss would offer. Mesmerized, Schultz stared at them hungrily before snapping out of his reverie.

  ‘We both know what they’re worth, Sutton,’ he said. ‘But that’s retail. These might be difficult to offload. I’ll give you thirty-five thousand now and five percent on everything I raise above fifty thousand. ‘

  Although Bill knew the gangster to be ruthless, it seemed a fair enough offer in the circumstances and he wondered if it was because he had just warned Schultz that his life was in danger.

  ‘Okay,’ he agreed. ‘It’s a deal. ‘

  From his desk drawer, Schultz took out a bundle of money and pushed it across the desk. ‘It’s all there,’ he said. ‘I counted it. ‘

  Bill nodded and dropped it into his case. He realized the Dutchman had already prepared this amount, so the reasonably generous offer couldn’t have had anything to do with his life being saved.

  Bill clicked the case shut and started to rise. ‘Thanks, Mr. Schultz. . .

  Schultz stopped him with a hand gesture. ‘Just a minute, Sutton. ‘ He reached into his desk drawer, drew out another bundle of notes tied with a rubber band, and threw it across the desk to Bill.

  ‘Here’s an extra fifteen thousand dollars,’ he said.

  Bill smiled at the gangster as he picked up the notes. ‘Thank you. That’s very generous of you, Mr Schultz. ‘

  The following day Bill was at the apartment when he got another disturbing phone call from Kitty. She was sobbing uncontrollably.

  ‘You lied to me, Bill,’ she croaked. ‘You and my fucking husband. I hate him. And I hate you too. ‘

  A suffocating feeling of dread deadened Bill’s mood. He’d been feeling high all morning. Jenny was awake longer now, and Bill was hopelessly in love with her. He was so much in love with her and Louise, he thought he must be the happiest man in the world. Last night he could have sworn his daughter smiled at him, even though Louise had told him she probably needed winding. But deep down he was convinced it was a secret smile especially for him. Life was wonderful. Even the surprisingly uncharacteristic generosity of the Dutchman yesterday had raised his spirits. Everything was going great guns. And now this. Right now Bill could have happily strangled Jack. He made up his mind that this was the end of their working relationship and he would terminate the partnership.

  Bill’s mouth felt dry as he tried to speak. ‘Kitty,’ he began, ‘I know you think I lied. . . ‘

  ‘I don’t think it,’ Kitty’s voice crackled on the line. ‘I know it, you fucking rat. ‘

  ‘Look,’ Bill said weakly, ‘All I said was what I believed. . . ‘

  Kitty interrupted him. Her voice was brittle. ‘Oh, you believed in Harry McCarthy, did you? Well that’s funny, because I phoned Sing Sing - said I was Mrs. McCarthy, wanting a visit - and there’s no-one there of that name. And when I confronted Jack about it, he told me the truth. Said he was in love with this Gloria. ‘

  As soon as she’d said this, Kitty burst into hysterical weeping again. Bill went cold. How could Jack do this? Even if Kitty was suspicious, short of catching them in each other’s arms, there was nothing she could prove.

  ‘Kitty, listen to me,’ Bill pleaded. ‘Don’t do anything foolish. Anything you might regret later. ‘

  All he heard was great shuddering sobs.

  ‘Kitty! Can you hear me?’

  She stopped crying at last, and shouted angrily, ‘That bastard! I loved him. I really loved him. How could he do this to me?’

  ‘These things happen in a relationship, Kitty. I think we need to talk - face-to-face. ‘

  ‘What the fuck for, Bill?’

  ‘We need to talk it through. Things might look different in a little while. ‘

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she spat. ‘I’m never going to get over this. He really took me for a ride, that bastard. And so did you. ‘

  ‘Please, Kitty,’ he begged. ‘Just meet me. I’ll try to explain. . . ‘

  ‘What’s to explain?’ she said in a resigned tone.

  ‘Just meet me, Kitty,’ he said as forcefully as he dared. ‘Fifteen minutes in Jake’s Café. ‘

  ‘I don’t see the point. ‘

  Bill’s voice rose urgently. ‘Kitty! Promise me you’ll be there. ‘

  Silence from the other end of the line.

  ‘Kitty!’

  ‘Okay,’ she relented in a dazed voice. ‘I’ll be there. ‘

  There was a click and the line went dead.

  Bill glanced at his watch, inhaled deeply on his cigarette and finished his coffee. He’d been at Jake’s Café forty-five minutes and there was still no sign of Kitty. He wondered if he should go round to her apartment and have a word with her; see if he could calm her down. Then he decided against it. There was a hardness about Kitty which made him feel uneasy. It had always been there. Bill had noticed it in her demeanor, her sharp though cautious movements; the way she suggested spending some of Jack’s money in an overly casual way, trying not to reveal a mercenary nature; the way her eyes developed an icy glaze when Bill became over familiar with Jack, cracking the occasional joke with him or empathizing in a way that left her on the periphery. But, in spite of this, surely if she really loved Jack she wouldn’t betray him to the police. That she might be capable of seeing her husband jailed for twenty years or more from her actions didn’t bear thinking about. He didn’t feel there were many woman who could do that to their husbands. On the other hand, Jack had betrayed her and she might feel she had a score to settle. The thoughts bounced back and forth in
Bill’s head, and he came to no satisfactory conclusion as to what he should do. Except return home to his beautiful wife and baby daughter and pray that Kitty would do the right thing.

  He ground his cigarette into the ashtray, paid his bill and peered through the window before leaving the café. Across the street a black Chrysler saloon was parked directly opposite, with two men sitting in the front. Bill waited until a bus came by in the opposite direction from which the car was facing, then using the vehicle as cover, he dashed out of the café, ran alongside the bus and tore round the corner at the next block.

  As he hurried along the street, he kept glancing over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. He realized he was becoming paranoid. There was nothing unusual about two men waiting in a parked car. And if Kitty had shopped him to the police, the place would have been crawling with cops. After three major armed robberies, they wouldn’t send just two detectives to take him in.

  The day was blisteringly hot and by the time Bill reached his car he was sweating profusely. Suddenly he found Manhattan claustrophobic and oppressive and he longed for the freedom of the suburbs. He checked his mirror before setting off and drove cautiously. He wasn’t taking any chances. But every time a car came up close behind him, he felt he was being tailed and kept peering nervously in the mirror. It wasn’t until he was heading out across the East River that he began to relax. And the thoughts of Louise and Jenny, and the domestic bliss that awaited him, comforted him and sweetened his mood, and he began whistling ‘I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise’ softly. By the time he reached his street and spotted their house at the end, he had shoved all thoughts about Kitty to the back of his mind. He was home and safe.

  Louise spotted the car and came to the door to greet him. ‘You’re early,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you for hours. ‘

  ‘Mr Schultz said to take the rest of the day off,’

  ‘That was kind of him,’