Harold Robbins Organized Crime Double

by Harold Robbins

  When I left them after supper I walked slowly uptown. “If it weren’t for Gerro,” I thought, “I’d—” Resolutely I put the thought from my mind and went back to the hotel.

  51

  April came, and with it the first soft touch of spring. Spring in New York! It kind of did something to you. It wasn’t anything like spring was supposed to be. It was the first onslaught of the dull, hot days to come. It was the first sign of hot, uncomfortable summer. I went through the days automatically—one day after another, the same thing everyday. I didn’t know whether I was happy, but I knew that I was content in some strange, unsatisfied fashion. There were other things I longed for, but I never could define those feelings even to myself.

  One evening Gerro asked if I could come down to Union Square on May Day. He was scheduled to make a speech there and he wanted me to hear it. I didn’t know whether I could go because May Day fell on a Monday. I told him I’d ask Harry if I could have a few hours off that afternoon. If I could get the time off, I would come.

  I hadn’t seen Marianne since that last evening in March. I vaguely wondered if she would be there. I don’t know whether that was the factor that finally influenced me to go to the May Day affair. But I know it must have played some part in my decision because I didn’t care for speeches.

  Anyway, Monday, May 1st, I got time off to go. There was a big crowd down at the square, and they had erected a temporary platform for the speakers. Men were going around handing out slips of paper on which was printed the program for the day. I looked over the list and I saw Gerro was the fourth speaker. His subject, as announced by the program, was: “Equality—A Birthright.”

  I pushed my way down to the front of the crowd. A man was talking. I didn’t know who he was, I didn’t care. I was trying to locate Gerro. At last I saw him. He was sitting up there on the platform with some other men, all plainly awaiting their turn to speak. I waved to him.

  His eyes, which had been wandering restlessly over the crowd, came to rest upon me. He grinned and nodded his head to show that he saw me. I waved again. I began to look over the crowd to see if I could locate Marianne. She wasn’t there.

  A hand tugged at my sleeve. I turned around. It was Terry. “Hello,” I said, smiling. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  She smiled back when she heard me speak to her. “I came down to hear Gerro,” she said. “I’m with my folks.”

  “That’s good,” I said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. “How have you been?” It was a stupid question because I saw her almost every day in the store. But there was a feeling of strangeness between us, and we didn’t talk very much.

  “I’m O.K.,” she said. “Nice crowd, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I replied, looking around again for Marianne, “big crowd.”

  We were silent a few minutes: we didn’t know what to talk about. Finally she said: “I’ll have to get back to my folks.”

  “Yes,” I agreed brightly, “I guess so.”

  “So long,” I said. I turned back to looking over the crowd but didn’t see Marianne. I looked at the speakers’ stand, and saw Gerro get up and move toward the steps. I walked over there.

  I shook hands with him. “Hi, ya, boy!”

  He grinned at me. “I was glad you came down. I was nervous as hell until I saw you. This is the first time I’ve made a speech to so big a crowd, but when I saw you I felt better. I knew everything would be all right. I always like to talk to someone in the crowd I know. It takes your mind off the other people.”

  “Then I’m glad I came,” I grinned. I looked around and asked him casually: “Did Marianne come down?”

  “No,” he shook his head, “she can’t stand big crowds like this.”

  I concealed my disappointment. We spoke a few minutes, and then he went back on the stand. I stood around waiting for his turn to come. There would be two more speakers before he appeared.

  There were all kinds of people there—poor of every face, every color, every creed, dressed in their Sunday best. Poverty wasn’t exclusive. You didn’t have to be born here to be broke. Around the edges of the crowd were mounted policemen to keep order. They were astride beautiful reddish-brown horses, and gripped clubs firmly in their free hand. They looked ready for trouble.

  I looked back at the speakers’ stand. The first man had finished and another was speaking now. I felt warm, so I went back to the edge of the crowd and bought a bottle of Coke. Then I pushed my way through the crowd again to the front. Gerro was now sitting in the front row on the end nearest the steps. I edged closer to the platform. I had finished the Coke. Now I looked around for a place to put the bottle down, but couldn’t find any so I stood there holding it in my hand.

  The first I saw of the fight was a surge of the crowd toward the steps of the speakers’ stand. Then I heard some people hollering: “Fight! Fight!” Gerro got up from his chair and looked over the railing. I moved over to where I could see better what was going on, and I saw a few men fighting. I looked up at Gerro and saw he had started down the platform steps into the crowd. From the other side I saw a cop come riding into the crowd, the people melting away before his horse.

  Things happened quickly after that. Gerro leaped in between two of the fighters and was trying to hold them apart. The cop came riding up, swinging his club at the fighters. He was shouting at them, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying because of the noise the crowd was making. I saw Gerro jump up and try to grab the cop’s club arm. I knew he was trying to stop the cop from hitting anyone, just trying to hold the club arm. The cop wheeled his horse viciously and broke his arm loose from Gerro’s grip. Then he brought his club down twice, once on each side of Gerro’s head. I saw Gerro slip crazily along the side of the horse, trying to keep himself up by holding on to it. He was near its rump when the cop turned the horse toward the crowd. The horse in turning kicked Gerro in the chest. Gerro fell in back of the horse, and the crowd pressed toward the cop. The horse backed up. I could see its rear hoofs step on Gerro, who was writhing there on the ground.

  I tried to push through the crowd to get to him, but there were too many people in front of me. “Why don’t they get him out of the way? He’ll be killed!” I heard myself screaming.

  The cop didn’t seem to know Gerro was under the horse’s feet. He was swinging his club around at anyone trying to get near him. I picked up my hands in helpless rage and suddenly realized I still held the bottle in my hand. The next thing I knew I had thrown the bottle. It spun crazily over and over in the air had hit the cop on the side of the face. He swayed dizzily in the saddle a moment. Suddenly blood poured from his nose and mouth, and he slipped out of his seat and fell to the ground. I could hear the whistles of the other cops tooting shrilly as they came riding toward the scene.

  I looked around wildly a moment before I realized I had better get out of there quickly. My gaze fell on Terry. She was looking at me through fear-widened eyes, her hand to her mouth. I turned and plunged back into the crowd. If the cops ever picked me up and found out I was the guy who had thrown the bottle, I’d get the beating of my life.

  I got to the subway entrance breathing hard, and turned to look back. The crowd was still milling around. I couldn’t do any more for Gerro by hanging around, so I decided to go back to the store until I heard from him.

  It was a few minutes before three o’clock when I walked into the store. I had taken a few minutes to go into a bar and get a drink before I went back. Then I had some black coffee, and I could feel my nerves ease off. I went in calmly, put on my apron, and went to work. I felt glad that Harry was too busy to ask any questions about the speech.

  The next two hours dragged by. I was waiting for the phone to ring. I don’t know why I expected to hear from Gerro, but I thought he would call if he was able to. About six o’clock it rang. Harry answered it and called me over.

  “Hello,” I said.

  “Frankie,” I heard her voice crackle excitedly, “this is Terry. You�
�d better beat it. The cops are after you.”

  “Wait a minute,” I cut in, “how do they know? You were the only one down there that saw me.”

  “There were others, Frankie,” her voice came back nervously. “There were some people from the club, and they saw you. The cops were questioning everybody, and any minute now they might find out who you are. That cop’s in the hospital and he might die. If he does…” Her voice trailed off.

  I didn’t want to think about that either. “Do you—do you know how Gerro is?” I stammered.

  “Didn’t you know?” she asked. She began to cry. “He’s dead. The horse crushed him.”

  I stood there a minute. The store seemed to whirl around. I got hold of myself. “Are you still there?” I heard her ask wildly.

  I forced myself to answer: “Yes, I’m here.”

  “You better hurry,” she said. “There isn’t much time.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.” I hung up the phone and stood there.

  I don’t know how long I stood there before I could rouse myself to go over to Harry and say: “I’m quitting.”

  He was slicing some cheese on the machine, and was so surprised he almost cut off his finger. “Why?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m in a jam,” I said simply. “There was a fight down there at the meeting. And I gotta beat it.”

  “Oh!” he said. “That bad, hunh? I told you to stay away from those bastards, that they’d get you in trouble.”

  “That don’t do any good now,” I said. “And besides, it wasn’t their fault.”

  He finished slicing the cheese and wrapped it up and gave it to the customer who was standing in the front of the store and couldn’t hear me. Then he came back to me.

  “I’m sorry, Harry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to quit like that and leave you stuck, but I can’t help it. You’ve been very decent to me, and I want you to know I appreciate it. Will you tell Mr. Rayzeus that for me too?”

  He nodded, and I went in the backroom and took off my apron. I hung it on a nail on the wall and came back into the store. I went over to him and held out my hand. “Thanks for everything, Harry.”

  He shook hands with me. “I’m sorry to have you leave, kid. You were a good boy, and I liked you.”

  “I’m sorry too,” I said, turning toward the door.

  “Wait a minute,” he said. “You forgot something.”

  I turned toward him. He held out his hand. “Your pay,” he said simply.

  “But,” I said, “this is only Monday.”

  “Take it,” he said. “You earned an extra week’s pay many times over.”

  I took the money and shoved it in my pocket. “Thanks,” I said, “I can use it.” I could. I had only a little over a hundred bucks saved up in the box in my room at the hotel. You couldn’t save any dough on the money I made.

  “It’s O.K., kid,” he said, coming over to the door with me. “I hope everything turns out all right.”

  I held up crossed fingers to him. He grinned and held up his hand to me. He crossed his fingers too. I stepped out into the street. I looked up and down the avenue; it was quiet as usual. I hopped into the subway and went down to the hotel. There I packed everything I had into the small secondhand valise I bought some time ago and checked out. I was about to go over to the railroad station when a thought struck me.

  Marianne! Who would tell her? I hoped not a stranger, someone who didn’t know of their feeling toward each other. I hoped she wouldn’t read it in the newspaper, printed there coldly for the information of anyone who was mildly interested. With each step I took, I began to realize that I would have to tell her. But I didn’t know I would until I stood in her doorway, valise in hand, ringing her bell.

  I hoped she was home. She was. I could hear her quick footsteps coming to the door. She opened it and saw me. She looked puzzled for a moment when she saw my suitcase. I stepped in without waiting for her to ask me.

  She closed the door and looked at me. “Going away, Frank?”

  “Yes,” I said, “but first I have something to tell you.” My face was serious.

  She couldn’t know what I was talking about, so she misunderstood what I was going to say. She came up close to me, and her face had a soft look on it. With surprise I saw that her eyes were gray, not brown as I thought, but a dark, smoky gray. “What do you have to tell me?” she asked softly. “What is it that you couldn’t go away without telling me?”

  I put the valise down and gripped her by the shoulders. Savagely, I thought she would understand quick enough.

  “Frank, you’re hurting me,” she said.

  I loosened my grip. The savageness I felt disappeared. “You’d better sit down,” I said more gently.

  “No, I won’t,” she said, her eyes beginning to widen in fear. “What is it?”

  “Gerro is dead,” I said bluntly.

  For a moment she looked at me uncomprehendingly, then her face went pale and her eyes rolled up. I caught her as she slumped toward me. I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the bed. I went into the other room and got a glass of water and came back with it. She was beginning to stir. I held the water to her lips. A few drops trickled down her throat. I loosened her blouse and sat there waiting for her to come to.

  Her eyes fluttered open. “I didn’t want you to find out from someone else,” I said gently. “I thought it would be better if I told you, but I’m afraid I messed it up.”

  She shook her head weakly. “How—how did it happen?”

  “There was a fight down there at the square. A cop hit him and he fell under the cop’s horse. I threw a Coke bottle at the cop and the cop’s in the hospital and I have to beat it.”

  “But Gerro—” she said faintly, “was there—any pain?”

  “No,” I said as gently as I could, “it all happened too quickly. He couldn’t have felt anything.” I didn’t know whether he had or not, but it didn’t make any difference to him now and it was better for her if she thought that was the way.

  She sat up in bed. “I’m glad it happened that way,” she whispered, “quick—if it had to happen. He couldn’t stand any pain.” She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.

  I let her cry for a few minutes. Then I got up. The longer I stood here, the more dangerous it became for me. I couldn’t stay around much longer. She stopped crying and looked up at me.

  “You were his friend,” she said. “He was so proud that you had fought for him. He told me so many times. And you fought for him even at the last.”

  I didn’t know what to say to that. You just couldn’t say nonchalantly: “It was nothing. I was glad to do it.” A thing like that just happened, and no matter what you did, you couldn’t stop it.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “You don’t know how sorry. He was a swell guy.”

  “There will never be another like him,” she said.

  We were silent a minute, then I went into the other room. “If you think you are all right,” I said, “I’ll be going.”

  “I’m all right, I can manage,” she said dully.

  “Good-bye,” I said from the bedroom door.

  “Good-bye,” she answered.

  I turned and started for the apartment door. I heard footsteps run behind me. I turned. Marianne ran into my arms.

  I held her close to me, her cheek to mine, her tears against my face. I ran my fingers through her hair. “Marianne.”

  Her lips were close to my ear. “Be careful, please. And come back. I’ll need you now that…”

  I didn’t let her finish what she was about to say. “I’ll come back,” I whispered huskily. “When the summer’s gone and this thing is forgotten, I’ll come back.”

  “Promise?” she said like a little child.

  “Promise!” I answered looking into her eyes. They were wet with tears—and were violet, not gray as I thought. “Stay here and wait. I’ll be back.” I let her go without kissing her.

&
nbsp; “Be careful, darling,” she said as I closed the door behind me.

  It was dark in the street, and I thought it would be too dangerous to go to the railroad station. If the cops had found out who threw that bottle, they would be looking for me there. My best bet would be a hitch across the ferry to New Jersey.

  She had called me darling! For a moment I felt a twinge of conscience as I thought of Gerro. Then I realized he was gone and that these things didn’t matter to him now. And besides, I had done my best. I had never gone near her while he was around. Darling!

  I got a ride across the ferry easily. A truckman going to Newark gave me a lift. At the Newark station I bought a ticket to Atlantic City. It was a summer resort and the best spot to get a job, if there were any.

  I looked wryly around the station while I was waiting for my train to come in. I was on the same old merry-go-round again. I wondered if I would ever catch the brass ring. Then I chuckled to myself.

  “Darling,” she had said. For the first time in my life I was really in love.

  52

  I got a job two hours after I reached Atlantic City. Jobs were still plentiful: it was the beginning of the season. I got a job at a soda fountain on the boardwalk. I was to work nights, coming in at three in the afternoon, leaving at one in the morning. The salary was twenty bucks a week and meals, seven days a week and would last only until September. That was all right with me; I had someplace to go when the summer was over.

  After I got the job I took a room at a cheap hotel for eight dollars a week. The hotel was only a few blocks from work. After a few days of breaking in at the fountain I was all right; the work I had done at Otto’s had paid off. I was a fair soda clerk. After a while I became a good one because I learned to move with a certain economy of motion that made for quicker service and faster sales and was less tiring for me.

  I generally would spend my days on the beach until it was almost time to go to work. Then I would go back to the hotel and dress and go to work. I ate lunch at the fountain, worked until closing time, and then went to the hotel to sleep.