by David Barry
‘My face has been in all the papers. It’s too well known. And they’ve distributed leaflets with my mug on it to all the theatre costumiers. “If this man tries to hire a costume from you. . . . “‘
Altieri’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘So what’s in it for you?’
‘I’ve changed my mind. I’m out of it. You can have the details free of charge. And you can go and check out the bank for yourself. You’ll see I’m giving you good information. ‘
Altieri thought about it for a moment, then drained his glass. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘let’s go back to your place, Tommy, and iron out the details. ‘
As they walked towards West 44th, Bill began to feel proud of himself. He had looked temptation in the face then turned his back on it. It was like he’d been suffering from a disease most of his life, but was now fully recovered.
He thought of Mary, and how he wanted to measure up to her expectations. She wanted him to succeed, and just days ago he had quit his job at Farm Colony, telling her how he planned to look into starting his own business. Now he meant it, and planned to put all his energy into the search. And he might just be able to scrape money together for it to work. He had managed to restore seven thousand dollars of the Prospect Park money, and this, coupled with another six thousand he’d saved from his wages over the last two and a half years, might be enough.
Chapter Twenty Seven
December, 1949
Two weeks before Christmas, he called at Tommy’s restaurant at the usual time, and found the longshoreman tucking into a massive steak and fries.
‘Join me,’ said Tommy. ‘And have some grub. ‘
Bill was almost tempted. The steak and fries looked tasty, but then he noticed how Tommy was chewing over the same piece of meat for longer than necessary, and decided against it. He ordered a coffee and doughnut instead. As soon as he got the order, he leant across the table and spoke quietly to Tommy. Because of the noise and babble in the restaurant, it wasn’t strictly necessary, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
‘You thinking of teaming up with Altieri?’
‘Why? What’s the problem?’
‘Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t do it, Tommy. ‘
‘Why not?’
‘The man has bad guy, hood, mobster, crook - you name it - written all over him. Soon as he shows up at Sunnyside, they’ll call the cops. ‘
Tommy looked up from his plate and gave Bill a knowing look.
‘Something tells me you’d like him to get caught. ‘
‘What gives you that idea?’
‘You’re still on the run and planning to go straight. If Altieri was caught using the same modus operandi as Willie the Actor, it’d take the heat off you. ‘
Bill grinned at his friend. ‘You ain’t just a pretty face, Tommy. But if you think I’m setting Altieri up, then forget it. That bank’s there for the taking. It’s just that I don’t think he’s capable of it. My instinct tells me he’s untrustworthy. ‘
Tommy ate quietly for a while, then fixed Bill with a steady look.
‘You were right to trust your first instinct, Bill. Know what I found out about Altieri. Tells people he was banged up for robbery. Turns out it was rape. Fifteen year old girl. ‘
An unpleasant image flashed into Bill’s mind of a young girl, a sweating Altieri, naked hairy buttocks, thrusting away on top of her. He stared at his coffee cup, lost in his thoughts of Jenny. Was she vulnerable, without a father to care for her and protect her? She was eighteen years old now. A young woman, and he’d missed her journey through childhood into the blossoming years of young adulthood.
‘Maybe Altieri deserves to be set up’ said Tommy. ‘All it’d take is one phone call. ‘
Bill drew his lips tightly together and shook his head. ‘Much as I detest sex crimes, Tommy, I’m not an informer. It goes against my nature. ‘
‘Same here,’ agreed Tommy.
‘Besides, I have another instinct about Altieri. I don’t think anyone need set him up. I don’t think he’s up to it. ‘
Bill watched as Tommy dipped his last piece of steak in ketchup.
‘And what about you, Tommy? You’re all square with the law. You’ve served your time. What tempted you?’
Tommy shrugged. ‘I guess I didn’t have much of a life. So it was no great risk. ‘
Bill knew exactly what he meant. He could picture Tommy at Christmas, alone in his room, listening to the radio.
‘And another thing,’ Tommy added, ‘I don’t think my job’s secure. They’re laying men off all the time. I may be next. ‘
‘So what are you going to do?’
‘I’ve saved a bit. I might move to Florida. Soak up some sun. I’ve had it with this place. ‘
‘Well,’ said Bill, ‘I hope it works out. ‘
He went to get a dollar out of his wallet, and Tommy stopped him with a hand.
‘It’s on me. ‘
Bill stood up. ‘Thanks, Tommy. Merry Christmas. ‘
Tommy waved it aside.
‘How long is it you’ve been out? Two and a half years? Stay lucky, Bill. Move on. There’s a great big world out there. You can get lost in it. ‘
‘Yeah, I’ll think about it. So long, Tommy. ‘
But he knew he never would leave New York. It was in his blood. And he lived with the hope that one day he might see his daughter again.
Chapter Twenty Eight
January, 1950
Mary was due home any minute now. Knowing how she was addicted to strong tea, and how she always liked several cups as soon as she arrived home, Bill filled the kettle and put it on the stove. He heard the key clicking in the lock as she entered.
‘Hi, Mary!’ he called out, brightly.
There was no reply, and when she entered the kitchen, he saw her face was pale and drawn, and her eyes were red and glassy, as if she’d been crying.
‘Oh, no,’ he said. ‘One of the patients died. Not Mrs Graylich?’
She always took a patient’s death badly. Her sadness usually lasted for the early part of the evening, at least until she’d drunk several cups of the darkest brew, and until Bill had commiserated with her. Only then would she snap out of it. But tonight she stared at Bill with a mixture of fear, confusion and hurt. Then she took a newspaper from her bag and placed it on the table. The Manufacturers’ Hanover Trust Bank in Sunnyside had been hit and he was being blamed for the robbery. His photograph and the headlines WILLIE THE ACTOR STRIKES AGAIN! were emblazoned across the front page. So Altieri had got clean away.
Mary’s voice was tremulous and quiet when she spoke. ‘Everyone saw the papers today. They recognized you. ‘ She tried to stifle a choking sob. ‘Are you Willie the Actor?’
Bill felt numb with fear and self-loathing. This was the moment he’d dreaded. He loved Mary. She was like a sister to him, and now she was going to suffer because of his crimes. He had to convince her it was all a mistake, if only to give her some hope for the future.
He looked her straight in the eyes, and said, ‘Willie Sutton is my half-brother. We look very much like each other. I swear that’s the truth, Mary. ‘
She wanted to have faith in him and gazed steadily into his eyes. Only a buzzing sound from the refrigerator broke the silence.
‘I swear it’s the truth. I wanted Willie to give himself up. He wouldn’t. And how can you turn in your own flesh and blood?’
‘Oh, Eddie!’ she cried. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugged. ‘Guess I was ashamed of Willie. He’s brought nothing but disgrace to my family. If my mother were alive. . . ‘
He sighed and shook his head, as if unable to comprehend the magnitude of his half-brother’s crimes. Then he heard Mary’s sharp intake of breath and saw the decisive look that burned in her
eyes
‘Eddie, I think you’d better see the Nursing Supervisor, and tell her what you’ve told me. They’re all talking about you. At the moment they’re unsure what to do about it, but. . . ‘
Alarm bells rang in his head. Any moment now one of the staff might contact the police. He had to get out of here. If it wasn’t already too late.
‘She might have left for the evening,’ Mary said, as Bill crossed to the door. ‘Why not leave it until the morning?’
‘I’m not going to Farm Colony, Mary. I’m going to look for Willie. I know the sort of places he frequents. I must talk to him, persuade him to give himself up. It’s my only chance to carve out a peaceful life for myself. I’ll only be a minute. ‘
He left her looking dazed and apprehensive, and dashed upstairs. Hurriedly he stuffed his money into the bottom of a bag, crammed clothes on the top, zipped it up, grabbed his coat and rushed back to the kitchen. Mary was now sitting at the table and the kettle had started to whistle. Bill turned it off.
‘I may be away for two or three weeks,’ he said. ‘So here’s a month’s rent in advance, just in case it takes longer to find him. ‘
He put some dollar bills on the table, money he’d earned legitimately. With this gesture, he thought, she could carry on believing in him, knowing that he planned on coming back. And it might delay her from going to the police. She might even manage to persuade them at Farm Colony that he was really Eddie Lynch.
‘Goodnight, Mary,’ he said, as he slipped into his overcoat. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. ‘
She looked up at him, her eyes glassy. He could see her inner turmoil, the desperate struggle to retain her faith in him.
Goodnight, Eddie,’ she whispered. ‘I hope you find Willie. I’ll pray for both him and you. ‘
‘Thanks,’ he said, then hurried out the back door. As he stepped into the back yard, the icy wind seemed to predict his grim future. Back out in the cold. Life on the run again. Mary’s house had been his sanctuary, a place of warmth and security. Now he’d be dodging in and out of the shadows once more, constantly looking over his shoulder. He cursed his stupidity. He should never have tipped Altieri off about the bank.
He hurried towards the bus stop. His only hope of getting off the island was by bus across the bridge to New Jersey, then back to Manhattan via the Holland Tunnel. If staff at the hospital had alerted the police, they’d probably be watching the ferry terminals into Brooklyn and Manhattan.
He caught the bus outside Halloran Hospital. He was the only passenger. The loneliness of the empty bus heightened his feeling of defenselessness. He desperately needed a crowd in which to lose himself. And the darkness outside, as it crossed the bridge to New Jersey, accentuated the eerie gloom of his journey, while the bus rattled and shook from the gusting wind.
The bus stopped on the New Jersey side, and a three passengers got on, followed by a cop. Bill quickly closed his eyes and let his head drop onto his shoulder. He could hear the cop talking to the driver but couldn’t hear what they were saying. Any moment now he expected the cop to come walking down the aisle, then the tap on the shoulder. .
He heard one of the passengers clearing his throat noisily. He wished he could hear what the driver was telling the cop, but it was muffled. He didn’t dare to open his eyes. Then the gears of the bus ground noisily and the vehicle started to move. He kept his eyes tight shut until they’d covered some distance. When he opened them again, he saw they were heading in the direction of the Holland Tunnel. He didn’t know what the driver had told the cop, but whatever it was, he was off the hook.
When he got to Manhattan, he felt he had no choice but to check into a hotel for the night. He selected a small, anonymous-looking hotel near Grand Central station, the type of establishment utilized by out of town salesmen. As he approached the desk clerk, he wore his most confident grin.
‘John Mahoney,’ he said. ‘I believe my company made a reservation for me. ‘
The clerk searched through a bundle of index cards, then shook his head.
‘Can’t find your name, sir. Which company you with?’
‘The Boston Safety Razor Company. ‘
The clerk pursed his lips and shook his head again. ‘There’s been no reservation made in that name, sir. ‘
Bill looked annoyed. ‘That’s the second time my company’s done that to me. And I suppose you’re fully booked. ‘
‘You kidding?’ said the clerk. ‘This time of year?’
‘In that case, I’d like to book a room, and I’ll pay for it now. I have a busy day tomorrow and an early start. If you could make out a receipt to John Mahoney of the Boston Safety Razor Company, so that I can reclaim the amount. . . ‘
‘There an address?’ asked the clerk.
‘Just Boston, Massachusetts’ll be fine. ‘
‘Will you be having dinner, sir?’
‘I’ve already eaten,’ Bill lied. There was no way he could risk sitting in a hotel dining room when his picture was on the front page of all the papers. He paid for his room and made for the elevator.
‘I hope you have a comfortable night, sir,’ the clerk called after him.
In the classified section of the Brooklyn Eagle, Bill found a furnished room to let in a predominantly Puerto Rican district near Flatbush Avenue. He hurried on over to the house and rang the bell. It was answered by an elderly, white haired lady, who seemed to be staring at him, but not into his eyes. There was something strangely unnerving about her expression but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
‘Morning, ma’am,’ he said. ‘I’ve come about the room to let. Is it still available?’
‘Yes, it is. And your name is. . ?’
‘John Mahoney. ‘
‘I’m Mrs. Marsden. The room’s at the top of the stairs, and it’s the first on the right. If you’d like to go up and take a look at it, I’ll wait down here. ‘
As he entered the dark hallway, he noticed the landlady fumbling for the handle to close the door. And when she spoke again, she looked slightly to where she thought he stood.
‘I won’t come upstairs, if you don’t mind,’ she said.
He realized Mrs Marsden was blind. He couldn’t believe his luck. There was no way she could identify him as Willie the Actor.
‘Be back in a minute,’ he said, and hurried upstairs. The room was a little on the small side, and the furniture looked as if it was second-hand, but it was adequate. He hurried back downstairs.
‘I’d like to take the room, Mrs Marsden, if that’s agreeable to you?’
Her head was slightly cocked to one side as she listened intently, vetting him through sound. He felt slightly vulnerable, wondering if there was something in his voice that might betray his character, something that a sighted person might miss.
‘Whereabouts you from?’ she asked.
‘Newark,’ he told her. ‘I have a sales job lined up, selling elevated shoes. D’you have any other guests in the house, Mrs. Marsden?’
‘I have two others. Both Puerto Rican gentlemen. ‘
She didn’t see Bill smiling, but she sensed the warmth in his tone.
‘My mother was Spanish. I’d quite enjoy talking in her native tongue once more. ‘
‘Good. Well, Mr Mahoney, the room is eight dollars a week, and I’d like it fortnightly in advance, if that’s all right by you?’
Bill counted out sixteen dollars and slipped them into the landlady’s hand.
‘Thank you,’ she said, and tapped the door beside her. ‘This is my room. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to knock. ‘
Chapter Twenty Nine
April, 1950
Although he felt secure in his room at the boarding house, and spent hours talking to the Puerto Rican tenants, who accepted him as half-Spanish, and wouldn’t have
dreamt their mild-mannered fellow tenant was a wanted criminal, Bill still felt nervous whenever he ventured further than his immediate neighborhood. He hated using the bus or subway, so he risked buying a brand new Chevrolet from a dealer on the upper West Side. He had the owner’s license made out in the name of John Mahoney, then spent hours in his room laboriously forging the state stamp in the driver’s license, trying out varying shades of blue ink until he was satisfied that he had a reasonable facsimile.
Bill knew his money would eventually run out and there was a vague plan forming in the back of his mind. He now carried a 32. automatic in a holster on his waistband, which he’d bought from a criminal associate in the Bronx. Although his plan was in its nascent stage, if he could pull off just one more successful robbery, then this time he really would hit the trail for Mexico and put the past behind him.
But he couldn’t work alone and needed someone he could trust. He decided to give Tommy Kling a visit at his restaurant. But Tommy never showed up. Bill didn’t like using any restaurant or bar too frequently, preferring to remain an anonymous stranger wherever he went. But on Sunday April 30th, he decided to risk another visit to the restaurant, knowing that Tommy never worked on a Sunday and always ate just after midday.
That was when it started to go horribly wrong. He was parked not far from Bergen Street station, just a few blocks from his boarding house; but when he tried to start the Chevy, the ignition gave a feeble click, and he suspected there was a loose connection to the battery. He raised the hood and checked it, but everything seemed to be in order.
He glanced at his watch. It was almost midday. Now if he wanted to reach Tommy in time he’d have to catch the subway. He locked the Chevy, bought a newspaper, and caught a train to 42nd Street. He sat in the back seat of the last car, facing the rear, avoiding any seats running the length of the car, so he didn’t have to sit facing a row of passengers.
When he arrived at the restaurant it was twenty-past twelve. Tommy was nowhere to be seen. Bill ordered bacon, with pancakes and maple syrup, and two fried eggs easy-over. He felt his energy was being sapped by constant worry, and he needed sweet and stodgy fuel to help him through the day. After his meal he drank two cups of coffee. It was by then almost one ‘o clock. Either Tommy had been and gone, or he’d finally made it to Florida.