Kill the Boss Goodbye

by Peter Rabe

  Cripp watched how Fell lowered his lashes again and how he pursed his lips. That's all Fell did. Then he looked at Sutterfield and nodded.

  “Sure. Good-by, Herb.”

  In the car Fell didn't say any more about it. He asked Cripp for a cigarette and smoked part of it. “Anything new about Buttonhead?”

  “No, Tom. There hasn't been time since we got here.”

  “Oh, that's right. When we get back from Pander, remind me to call Omaha,” Then Fell didn't say any more till they got to Pander's apartment.

  Chapter Nine

  Pander was out. He had left a man in the apartment to hold down the phone and answer the door. Fell didn't know him and the hood didn't know Fell so he wasn't going to say where Pander had gone. Fell asked again, politely, and the next thing, Cripp thought, Fell might start to get rough. Cripp had seen him before when he lost his temper, and there was never much of a buildup.

  Nothing happened. Fell nodded good-by and left. “Let's try the Waterhole,” he said, and they drove out to the edge of town where the nightclub was. The place was built low and sprawling. The prairie started in back of it, but in front and at the sides the grounds had been landscaped like a desert. They had even carted in the sand to make a good job of it.

  The front door was locked, of course, but Fell didn't want to walk around to the side. He rattled the door and finally a guy came up. He shook his head behind the plate class, because it was before business hours and he didn't know Fell. When he started to walk away one of the cleaning ladies came by. She knew Fell and told the guy, so the door opened and they walked in. The guy was so confused he forgot to lock the door again.

  “Listen, I'm sorry, Mr. Fell,” he said. “But—you want me to call Pander? Did you want to—”

  “He's in back?” said Fell.

  “I can get him for you—”

  “Never mind.” They walked to the back. The room was dim and all the upturned chair legs gave the place the air of a storage loft—except for the frescos along the Wall, the grande piano inlaid with little square mirrors, and the dance floor which was shiny black plastic. Why they had called the place Waterhole wasn't clear, because there was no Western decor anywhere. Just chrome, plastic, glass, and a lot of striking angles. Pander had thought that up. Even the rooms in back were very expensive.

  “You want a drink first?” said Fell. Cripp shook his head and they walked the length of the dark bar. Past the dressing rooms in the back they came to a door padded with leather. Because of the soundproofing the laughter came at them like a gust when Fell opened the door. There were three of Pander's new crowd, there was Pander and a blonde with a wasp waist and breasts like towers. The way she was dressed, her body showed up like a slap in the face. This time Pander's shirt was grape-colored, and the suspenders white with black stitching.

  And because of the soundproofing, Fell standing there, suddenly, made an impression. They all stopped laughing.

  It was hard to tell how Pander felt behind the black glasses, but nobody was watching him anyway. They waited for Fell.

  “What's funny?” said Fell.

  Pander coughed and said, “Nice to see you.”

  “That's good,” said Fell and walked to the back of the desk. Roy was lying on a couch by the wall. He took the Stetson off his foot, jumped up, and held the desk chair for Fell. Cripp stayed by the door and looked out the window where the air conditioner hummed. Fell sat behind the desk, turned to Pander.

  “Who's the lady?” He tried to see Pander's eyes.

  “Just a friend. Millie. Millie Borden.”

  “Borden?” Fell looked as if he might want to say something else. He said, “How are you, Miss Borden? I'm Thomas Fell.” He leaned his arms on the desk and turned back to Pander. “Are you free?”

  “Sure. Sure, I'm free.”

  “Then send out the lady.”

  “Who? Millie?”

  “Send her out.”

  “She's all right. She's with me.”

  Fell didn't move and he didn't answer. Then Cripp opened the door, holding it. The girl moved first. The silence was getting her, and nobody stopped her as she walked out of the room. Then Cripp closed the door.

  “Leave it open, Cripp. I want Pander alone.”

  Pander leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

  “Send out the boy friends,” said Fell. “You and me will have a conference.”

  “That's fine. Go right ahead, Tom. Is it business?”

  “Yes, business.”

  “Good. Let's talk business. I think you've met Roy. He was here before you left. That one over there is Willie, and the other one you can call Meyer. His full name is Meyerhofer or something.” Pander took some gum out of his mouth and glued it into an ashtray. “So let's talk business.”

  Cripp still held the door open, but it didn't make any sense any more. Fell hadn't moved, except to look down at his hands on the desk. “Okay,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you a few things.”

  Cripp closed the door.

  “Since I've been back I've heard about the raids, of course. I just saw Sutterfield and straightened things out. We're opening up again, so get the word around that everything's fixed.”

  “I don't know about that,” said Pander. “You lost some of your guys while you were gone.”

  “I hear you got new ones for us.”

  “I can't spare 'em. They're all busy.”

  Cripp had been wondering how long it would take, how long Fell would hold still. It had started with Sutterfield, and now this. Fell sitting there and Pander on top of him. And Fell didn't make a move.

  “How do you mean that, Pander?”

  “Just the way it sounds, Tom.”

  “You trying to lose us money, Pander?”

  “Me? Hell no. Am I trying to do anything like that, fellas?” He turned to the three hoods on the couch.

  “I want those bookie joints run as before,” said Fell. “Starting today.”

  “Go ahead,” said Pander.

  Fell took a deep breath and let it out as if something hurt him. The lashes over his eyes made a shadow.

  “Why don't you open up, Pander. We're still running the same outfit, aren't we?”

  “Sure,” said Pander. He unwrapped a new stick of gum and chewed it into place. “Same outfit, Tom.”

  “Except?”

  “Well, you been away quite a while. You can't expect everything to stand still, can you?”

  “Get to it, Pander.” For a moment Cripp thought that Fell was changing. But that's all he said. Then he waited.

  “You left me in charge, didn't you?”

  “I did.”

  “And you don't like the way I ran things?”

  “I don't know yet. I just got back, Pander.”

  “So what's your beef?”

  Fell made a small gesture with his hand, dropped it back on the desk. “Pander, if you're too chicken to come right out with it—”

  Pander jerked up and away from the wall.

  “Me, chicken? You trying to start something, maybe? You think maybe sitting behind that fat desk makes you a big shot or something?” Since his three hoods were sitting right there, Pander balled up all his nerve and cut loose. “Let me give you a tip, old man. There's been changes around here that's going to stay changed because I say so, you hear me? I took over your mess because you left me in charge, and I'm running what I'm running with no kicks from nobody. No kicks from the boys, no kicks from you, and no kicks from guys that's bigger than you, Fell. And if you think I'm just talking big...”

  “I know what you mean,” said Fell. “The combine. You think they gave you the go-ahead.”

  “I don't think—I know.”

  Pander hadn't thought it would drift this way, would come out clear like this quite so soon. When he didn't come up with an answer immediately, Fell talked again, without looking up.

  “They didn't, Pander. I haven't talked to them, but I know. You know why? I was in on the policy
making, way back, and the policy is: let the best man show himself. You haven't shown a thing, Pander, except how to take advantage while the old bastard himself is away.” Fell raised his eyes and said. “And I haven't shown a thing.”

  Roy had started spinning his stetson, and when nobody said anything for a second or two he leaned forward. “Let's put it this way. Pander here—”

  “You shut up!” yelled Pander, but Fell cut in.

  “Yes. I wasn't through yet. The combine didn't tell you a thing. All they could have said was that you should learn the ropes and make yourself useful. And then they watch. Get it, Pander? They watch to see who shows up best. Then they decide.”

  “If you're so hot, Fell, how come they're watching?” Pander was smooth again, his eyes hidden behind the black glasses. But he looked mean, even though he had a smile on.

  Fell made it simple when he answered. “Because that's how it goes. It always goes that way, after a while.”

  It threw Pander off, and there was silence.

  Nothing was going right, and Cripp saw it. Fell had an advantage and had lost it. Fell got it back, let it go— everything the opposite of what Emilson said. All screwed up, maybe worse than ever. Fell with the stuffing all gone—or holding back, afraid of the things Emilson talked about.

  “There's this,” said Cripp, and only the new guys on the couch looked surprised, not knowing who Cripp was. “How come you stopped paying ice as soon as Tom left?”

  “If you think I'm trying to rob the kitty for that lousy few bucks—”

  “We know the money's there.”

  “Then don't stand there and—”

  “You didn't answer. How come you stopped?”

  Pander couldn't get out of it, so he made it a grandstand play. He laid it on thick.

  “When I took over this racket,” he said and he looked at Cripp instead of Fell, “I wasn't just holding down a seat. I kept improvements in mind which is the only way to keep moving.” He stopped, liking the sound of those words, but then he saw that Fell was hardly listening.

  Pander coughed, covered up with a quick change in stance. He turned to Cripp as if Fell weren't there. “So I improve. Fell's methods are as old as himself. They don't make sense, they're way off, and I got better ideas.”

  “Stop jawing, Pander,” said Fell.

  “Jawing? Your sidekick here asked me a question. He—”

  “What's your answer?

  “That your setup stinks, is my answer!”

  “Wonder boy—” Fell started, but now Pander was rolling.

  “Stinks from age! What's your biggest overhead around here, bar none? Protection! Protection for what? For keeping dozens of lousy stalls open so the customer can walk in and lay down his two bits. No stalls, no protection to pay.” Pander waited for somebody to make a remark, but nobody spoke. He looked back and forth. “Nobody gonna ask how I keep taking bets with no stalls open?”

  “How, Pander?” Fell sounded calm.

  “Mobile units!” said Pander, and liked the words so much he said it again. “Mobile units!”

  “By car,” said Cripp. “I had an idea that's—”

  “I had the idea, sidekick. The bookie roams all over, calls in at houses, bars, or arranges for a stop at a corner. He does business, he goes home, he calls in his take to the office, and business as usual—except no ice!”

  Pander looked around, but only the guys on the couch looked impressed. Fell was chewing his lip.

  “Does it work?” he asked.

  “Does it work! Take a look at the weekly take while I was running this show! And the way I got it planned—”

  “Cripp told me the take was okay.”

  “Well? So what's your beef?”

  “No beef, Pander. Just open the joints up again. Like before.”

  “I can't spare the men,” said Pander and leaned against the wall.

  “You can't? Listen, Pander—“

  “No, you listen, Tom. I can't spare the men and you haven't got enough left to do it yourself. And I'll be damned—”

  “Cripp,” said Fell, “is he right?”

  “He's right.”

  There was no talk while they all looked at Fell behind the desk, sitting there quietly, looking mild.

  “Pander, look. This needs planning, not bulldozing. A switch like this can cause trouble all over. We got to live with Sutterfield and his kind.”

  “I don't,” said Pander.

  Fell looked up, but held still.

  “I want those bookie places to open.”

  “Go ahead,” said Pander.

  “And we pay ice, like before.”

  “Not from my take.”

  Fell got up then, and came around the desk. He crossed his arms as Pander had done and said, “Is this the break, Pander?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about.”

  “You think you're ready to take this thing over?”

  “Call it anything you like, Fell.”

  They all waited, but Fell didn't take it up. And he didn't even seem to care how it looked.

  “You'll choke on this, Pander,” he said, but nobody thought there was anything behind it.

  Pander just shrugged and went to the door. “Millie,” he yelled, “you ready to go?”

  She came in and picked up the wrap she had left on a chair, and the way she draped it over her shoulders should have made her the focus in any situation, only it didn't. There was too much unfinished business in the room and the only one to finish it, Fell, didn't make a move.

  “May I ask you something, Miss—uh—Borden?” said Fell.

  She looked at him and said, “Sure.”

  “What size are you?” said Fell.

  He said it so plain, just wanting to know, that everyone gaped. It gave Pander another chance for a grandstand play, and he didn't care who Fell was—or used to be.

  “Take that back, Fell, and apologize!”

  Fell just raised his eyebrows.

  “Or I'll forget you're too old to put up a fight, Fell.”

  “Forget it,” said Fell and reached for his hat on the desk.

  “Fell, did you hear what I said?”

  Fell turned around again. He was talking to Cripp.

  “Ever notice that nose on Pander? Ever notice how nice and straight that nose is?” It was another switch nobody could follow, and Fell walked to the door. He stopped there and said, “Pander used to box, some years back. Even if we hadn't set up a fight for him now and then Pander could still have looked good. A good welter,” said Fell and started to smile. “And then he suddenly quit. Just getting good, and he quits. No heart, you can call it.”

  Pander had started to hunch himself up and got ready to take his sunglasses off. Fell continued smiling.

  “You see a boxer with a beautiful nose,” said Fell, “and you got a fighter without heart. Look at him.”

  Millie Borden looked from one man to the other. Then she moved back. She hadn't understood a thing that had gone on, but she understood what was shaping up. She moved because there was going to be a fight. Pander leaned up on the balls of his feet, arms swinging free, face mean, but nothing followed. He stared at Fell and all he saw were his eyes, mild lashes and the lids without movement, and what happened to them. He suddenly saw the hardest, craziest eyes he had ever seen.

  Pander lost the moment and then Fell smiled. He said so long and walked out of the door.

  Cripp followed, and drove the car. The conversation with Pander had him rattled enough so he didn't even try for an explanation. He drove toward Fell's house, but Fell said, “That memory of yours, Cripp. No good at all for important things.”

  “What?”

  “Drive back to the Alamo. I got to make that call about Buttonhead.”

  Chapter Ten

  Cripp didn't hear what the call was all about because Fell sent him home and saw no one till late at night. Then he called for a taxi and went home. At his house he got out of the cab on the street and walked
up the drive. The sprinklers were still on, hissing in the dark and drifting fine spray at Fell. He stepped back and tried to see how the grass looked, but there wasn't enough light so he went into the house.

  Janice was taking a bath. The tub was a round marble thing with steps leading down and big enough for two to float around in the water all stretched out. She heard Fell come upstairs and started to get out of the water. Then she changed her mind and waited for him.

  “Do that again,” he said from the door.

  She made a splash sitting up and said, “Hi, Tom. Do what?”

  “Roll over like that.”

  She sat holding her knees and smiled.

  “And jump through a hoop? Or grab a fish from midair?”

  “For that you're not trained well enough. Just do simple things. You know, like—”

  “I know.”

  He came closer and sat down on a stool upholstered with terry cloth.

  “Now if I had me a fish,” and he held out his arm, “I might just be able to train you right.”

  “I don't jump for fish,” she said. “Gimme a kiss.” She stood up.

  He leaned forward and they kissed.

  When she drew back again she saw his eyes, close by and open. She felt uncomfortable. She sat down in the water again, not feeling right, but when she looked up again he didn't seem different any more, just a little tireder, perhaps.

  “Bad day, Tom?” She reached for her sponge and let it dribble over her head.

  “Why?”

  “You look tired.”

  “What else?” She wasn't a very good liar.

  “Cripp called,” she said. “He never calls here—”

  “What was it?”

  “He said to call him back. You know he doesn't talk business to me.”

  “Then what did he talk about?” Fell sounded casual.

  But Janice knew that he wasn't so she said, “About how he worried about you. How everything went sort of wrong today.”

  She dropped the sponge and turned on her stomach. She floated that way, acting as if she didn't care whether he answered. And Fell played the game with her, not looking at her and keeping his tone casual.