Kill the Boss Goodbye

by Peter Rabe

  He said, “Cripp worries. My first day back—you know how it is.” But then he looked at her. She sat up again, and they both knew there was no reason for them to hide things from each other.

  “It did go sort of wrong today,” he said.

  “Are you losing out, Tom?”

  “What did Cripp say?”

  “That you buckled under. With Herb, and with Pander too.”

  “Cripp said that?”

  “What he really said was that it looked as if you did, but that he wasn't sure any more how you're handling things.”

  She had to wait for Fell to answer because he was staring at the ceiling, worrying his lip.

  “I wasn't sure either,” he said.

  It surprised her.

  “But that's gone now,” he went on. “That's all gone now, because I found out how wrong Emilson was.”

  “Wrong? About what?”

  “About me. About losing my grip on myself if I don't watch out.” She didn't say anything. “He used to say that I have more drive than I can control—or at least that's what might happen.” Fell started to grin slowly, thinking about the day. “Christ,” he said. “Christ, did I control myself.”

  “Was it hard?”

  “Not really.” He got up and unbuttoned his collar. “And you know why?”

  She saw the animation in his eyes and the old strength in the way he got up.

  “Tell me why, Tom.”

  “Because I can't lose!”

  She didn't have to think of an answer then because he walked out of the bathroom and laughed. She saw him stand by the bed, pull his tie off, and toss it at the chair. It missed, as usual.

  “Same place,” he called to her. Then he came back. “How's the bath, Jan?”

  “Nice. Want to come in?”

  “It just reminded me. You know those sprinklers out front? I'm going to shut that thing off.”

  “It should be off now, Tom. It turns itself off at ten-thirty.”

  “I mean off for good. Let that lawn fend for itself. Let's just see what happens.”

  She thought that was all right, if Tom wanted to try it, because she didn't much care one way or the other what happened to the lawn. She got out of the bathtub and put on a terry-cloth robe.

  “Let's go down now,” said Fell. “We'll turn it off.”

  “Now?” She was drying her hair. “Let it wait.”

  He watched her rub her hair.

  “Let's go to bed,” she said.

  “At eleven?”

  “You should have lots of sleep. You still have to go easy. And tomorrow—don't work all day tomorrow.”

  “The track opens in less than a week, Jan. That means extra work.”

  She fluffed her hair up and turned so he could rub her back through the robe.

  “I haven't seen much of you, Tom.”

  “That'll change. After the opening, a week or so later, we'll go to the Sierras. We'll use Sutterfield's place by the lake, just the two of us.”

  “Herb goes there week ends,” she said. “I'd rather not see him.”

  “He won't go. I'll tell him to stay away.”

  Janice walked into the bedroom and Fell couldn't see her face.

  “The less friction with Herb, the better,” she said, and it was an old topic with them. It made her sound edgy.

  “He'll do as I say.” Fell tried to make light of the way she felt. “He knows where his bread is buttered.”

  “That's what I mean,” said Janice, and when she changed into her nightgown she turned so Fell couldn't see her.

  “Let's drop it,” said Fell. “Every time that bastard comes up—”

  “I know. I can't help it.”

  “You've had plenty of time to get over it.” Now Fell sounded annoyed. “But every time that bastard—”

  “Let's not talk any more.”

  Fell talked low. “Maybe Emilson or one of his kind should have a crack at you about this. It's not any fault of mine that Sutterfield is your brother.”

  She turned around so the nightgown made a swirl.

  “You know that's not it.”

  “I know that's not it. It's worse. But just remember, when I picked you up I didn't know you had him for a brother. You know that.”

  “And you didn't pick me up!” she said, grabbing for something unimportant because she was edgy and troubled.

  “Don't get like him, now; don't get mean for no reason at all. And besides, what would you call the way we met. Love at first sight?”

  “No,” she said. “But you didn't pick me up!”

  That was true. She hadn't wanted any part of him when they met in L.A. She had come to the point where she only latched on to men who could do her some good, and Fell was nothing to her. He had nothing to do with the movies, he didn't even have an interest in a nightclub, nor did he promise to help her along if she just took a turn in bed with him. And Janice didn't think she could afford it any more, to horse around and do things just for the hell of it.

  She had left home young, and she had stayed away. She spent her time doing just as she pleased, and everything just the opposite of what brother Herbie had wanted. She hadn't compromised Herb Sutterfield, though that would have been easy. It gave her life an extra kick never to use his name, to keep it a secret, and to let him worry through all the years she was gone whether she'd smudge the good family name, whether she'd be a danger to Herbie's career and his tight-muscled sense of what is proper. He had played the game with her, for his reasons, and hardly anyone seemed to remember that there had been a sister, sixteen years old, who left for the East, for school, and who never came back. His story was that she had married somewhere abroad.

  Nor had Fell known a thing about it. He had wanted Janice, and after a while he got her. She had no luck in L.A., and then she caught onto how much Fell felt about her, and no reservations. It made her feel very old-fashioned at first, and then she discovered she liked the thought of marriage. They spent a week in Yosemite Park and after that he asked her again. If he hadn't asked she felt that she might have asked him. They married, and he was happy. And now, for the first time, she was happy.

  The shock came when he took her to San Pietro. Tom Fell was no different from most of the others, because it looked as if he had swung a deal that gave him the whip hand. She hadn't known Fell was building the rackets in town, that her brother was in the deal up to his ears, and that all this made excellent business sense. And the fact was, Fell hadn't known it either. It gave him a big laugh, and a big advantage, only he never made use of it. Not intentionally, and Janice believed, after a while, that Fell had married her with no devious motives. It was the truth and it kept them together, and only sometimes did she suffer with a small, sharp suspicion. It made her more sensitive than Fell could understand, and Sutterfield was the only disturbing thing in their lives. It came up now and then. When it did Fell would change the subject.

  “Go to bed,” he said, “I'll be right back.”

  She watched him leave the room and wondered whether he had gone for his chocolate. She asked him when he came back. He said, “No, I forgot. And I don't want it tonight.” He said it, smiling, and gave her a pat on the hip where it curved up under the cover.

  “You called Cripp?” she asked.

  “No. Just to show you everything is under control.”

  “Where were you?”

  “Down in the basement, I turned off that sprinkle thing.”

  Chapter

  Eleven

  He should have called Cripp, because Cripp sat up most of the night waiting for the call, worrying about the thing he wanted to talk about. When Fell called him early in the morning Cripp was asleep. So when Fell heard the voice answer in a mumble he said get some rest, I'll pick you up in two hours. Then Fell left the house and didn't hear Cripp calling back.

  That meant two more hours for the thing to develop.

  Fell drove himself straight to the motel to do two hours' work for the track opening, wh
ich meant he didn't see a thing. He didn't see Pander, who was busy in the room out at the racetrack; he didn't see the out-of-town cars gathering up at points in the city; and he missed Cripp's call to the office because Fell was busy with long distance, talking to Omaha.

  A while later Cripp came in, worried and out of breath.

  “You look like hell,” said Fell, and turned hack to the desk.

  “Listen, Tom. Something's up.”

  Fell turned around, but seeing Cripp's face he didn't interrupt.

  “I got it from Phido, Tom. Just a word he'd picked up about getting ready for tomorrow—yesterday, that was, and about Pander pulling some books out of the joints you reopened.”

  “Well? Go on.”

  “It's just vague, Tom, except that I checked late last night and when I talked to one of Pander's men about what might be going on, he gave me the brush-off and started getting nervous. That was at one of the clubs in town. Right then a bunch of guys I never saw before came in, and that's when he got nervous and turned away. So I left and just by chance I see those three cars outside, out-of-town plates, but when I try checking the numbers this police cruiser rolls up and the two cops inside ask me if I'd seen you around. No rough stuff, just friendly, except that I miss checking those plates because the guys come back and drive out of the lot. Then the cops take off too.”

  “What's it mean, Cripp?”

  “I don't know. Could be just coincidence and they just wanted to know if it was true you were back in town, or it might mean they wanted to keep me busy while those cars took off.”

  “You sound too suspicious, Cripp.”

  “Maybe. But then I try calling Pander and he won't come to the phone.”

  “Did Phido say he heard talk about a raid?”

  “Not outright, but that's what I thought it was.”

  “We'll see,” said Fell, and reached for the phone. He got the commissioner's office and asked for Sutterfield. He even heard Sutterfield talk in the background, telling the old girl at the phone that he was busy and Fell could go hang himself, so Fell just hung up and looked puzzled.

  “We'll take my car,” he said. “Sutterfield's getting a visit.”

  “How about Pander?” said Cripp. “Maybe he knows something and that's why he got ready and pulled out those books.”

  “Sutterfield first,” said Fell, and Cripp had to run to keep up with him.

  This time Fell didn't waste time with etiquette. He didn't come in through the office John, and he didn't even look at the pink-lensed secretary who came fluttering up from behind her desk. Fell walked right into the inner sanctum, where Sutterfield stood by a book shelf putting a volume on torts back in front of a bottle. Sutterfield turned around, crushing a paper cup in his hand.

  “Fell,” he said, but he didn't have time to work himself up the way he wanted to.

  “Why in hell didn't you answer the phone?” said Fell.

  “May I—”

  “No. Just listen.” Fell stopped by the desk. The way he looked and the way he acted was a big change from the day before, and both Cripp and Sutterfield paid attention. “You got your dough yesterday?”

  “Did I get my dough?” Sutterfield said it as if he didn't know what the word meant.

  “By check, so you don't mess with the receipts. You got paid, so you should hold still like any other crooked official. I want to know if you're holding still?”

  “Fell,” said Sutterfield, “have you lost your mind?”

  Cripp knew he hadn't. Tom Fell acted more like himself than he had done for months.

  “Did you set up my places for another raid?”

  “I most certainly didn't!”

  “Did you bring in men from the county seat to do the job for you?”

  “You can't be serious,” said Sutterfield, and there was no doubt that all this was news to him. Fell went right on.

  “Did you pay off your next in line, like you're supposed to? Talk louder.”

  “No,” said Sutterfield. “There hasn't been time. Chief Dilling was out of town, and—”

  “Did you tell Dilling he was getting his ice?”

  “How could I? He wasn't even—”

  “Is he back today?”

  “I have to check, Fell. After all—”

  “Shut up, Sutterfield. Call him and find out if he's got any plans to act legal all of a sudden.” Fell turned and went to the door. “If he has, stop him,” said Fell, and he and Cripp left. “Back to my office,” he said to Cripp.

  “About those out-of-town cars,” said Cripp, “I didn't see if they came from the county seat. Like I explained, I didn't get a chance to see those license plates close enough.”

  “Never mind,” said Fell. “Just so Sutterfield knows where he stands. Right now what's important—” but he got no further.

  Five cars shot out of the lot where the Alamo stood, and Cripp had to squeeze close to the ditch to let them by. Just in case, Cripp made sure to spot the numbers.

  “Got 'em?” Fell asked.

  “Right. But—”

  “Tell me later. It looks like they hit.” When the car swung toward the motel the guess looked good.

  Three bookies were outside the coffee shop and two were holding the third. The one in the middle was holding his nose, blood coming through his fingers. The other two didn't look good either.

  It was worse inside. They had ripped out the phones, hacked up the switchboard, torn ledgers and address books to pieces, and there was even a big, broken hole where somebody had smashed a chair into the blackboard.

  “I never seen this kind of raid.” Cripp looked confused.

  Fell wasn't talking. He looked at the broken phones and the ruined books, then he sat down on a chair that was still whole.

  “Did they have a seal on the door?”

  Cripp looked and said, “Hell, no.”

  “And they made no arrests?”

  “Just roughed them up,” said Cripp.

  “And property destruction?”

  “This place won't operate for weeks.”

  “That's the point,” said Fell.

  “You know what this looks like?” said Cripp.

  “I know. This was no police raid.”

  “And those license plates—they weren't county seat.”

  “You sure, Cripp?”

  “They were L.A. Let me think... and Cripp closed his eyes. “They were all—let me think.”

  “Take your time,” said Fell. “Just take your time.”

  “I am. I've seen them before.”

  “L.A.?”

  Cripp opened his eyes and recited. “L.A. plates, all with the same letters. The cars belong to a rental service. Comet Cars, Inc. Syndicate owned. Who owns it now, Tom?”

  “It makes sense,” said Fell. “Jack Martinez owns it. Buddy of wonder-boy Pander.”

  “Son of a bitch,” said Cripp.

  “It makes sense. With the joints knocked over, that leaves only Pander's setup to operate. He'll look good after the season. He makes the money and he runs the show that's making the money.”

  “He'll look so good you won't be needed.”

  “That's right,” said Fell.

  Cripp kept still for a second. Then, “You going to let him, Tom?”

  “What?”

  “Look good.”

  “No. Not Pander.” Then Fell wouldn't talk any more about it.

  It was almost the same as the day before, as if Fell weren't entirely present or as if he were holding back— but this time Fell did take some action. He had Cripp check the other joints, and it turned out to be true— they had all been hit. He made ready to fix up the damage and then he sent wires to fill out his staff. He did all these things, busy all morning, except he never did the one thing which would have made real sense: Fell didn't do a thing about Pander.

  Chapter Twelve

  Pander's apartment looked a lot like the club he ran and with a crowd in the big front room he acted pretty much the way he did i
n the club. Except there was a hectic quality to his hosting, and he kept repeating they should all have a good time. They did; they were his own hoods, and besides the liquor was free. Millie Borden was the only woman there, but she was Pander's and didn't count. They watched her, and some of them wondered how come the dress didn't bust any minute.

  Roy leaned against the wall, looking uncomfortable. He would have liked to sit down but there wouldn't have been enough room to stretch his legs anyway. When Pander came by Roy reached out and caught him by one suspender, red this time and no stitching.

  “Roy, boy, you having a good time?”

  “Sure. Listen, Pander, maybe it's time—”

  “Let 'em have fun. I'll call the meeting to order any minute now.”

  “Any minute now it looks like some of them might drop dead. I don't like liquor first and then business.”

  “Celebrate, Roy. We got things to celebrate.” Pander laughed with all his teeth showing.

  “Sure,” said Roy.

  Pander spied Millie and waved. When she came over he gave her his glass and told her to bring it back full. Roy and Pander watched her walk away, just as everybody else was doing.

  “Some dish, huh, Roy?”

  “A dish. Call it a dish,” said Roy.

  “Except a dish is flat, huh, Roy?” More laughter.

  “She won't help the situation. Look at those guys all liquored up and giving her homy looks. She don't help getting their minds on business.”

  “She doesn't mind,” said Pander. He watched Millie come back. “Good for a woman to know she's wanted.”

  “Christ,” said Roy.

  Pander just laughed, took the glass from her, and gave her a slap on the rear. Everything jiggled.

  “Go have fun, huh, Millie?” He gave her another whack so that those who had missed it got a chance to study just how well fixed up Pander was.

  She walked back to the table with all the liquor and put ice cubes into glasses.

  Willie came to the wall and said, “Pander, it's ten already. How about—”

  “I was just going to,” said Pander and turned to the room. “All right, you guys!”

  It was loud and they all turned around. In the silence that followed they heard the sounds Millie made, drinking ice water.