Solomon's Vineyard

by Jonathan Latimer

  The turnkey clanged the metal gate behind us. I said: “Why didn't you bump him off?”

  The chief swore so much I could hardly understand him. I gathered his men had double-crossed him. Instead of shooting Pug, they had grabbed him. I wanted to ask him why he hadn't been there, but I didn't. I knew the answer. “Well, he'll fry,” I said.

  “I don't know,” the chief said mournfully. “I wish he was in some other jail.”

  We came to a steel door, our shoes making a hollow sound on the cement. A couple of guys in a cell begged for cigarettes. In another cell a woman was weeping. “A drunk,” the chief said. The turnkey opened the door and we went into a room with two cells. One of the cells was empty and Pug Banta was in the other. “If it ain't my fat pal,” he said.

  They hadn't touched him. I guess he was too important for them to beat up, even with a murder rap hanging over him. I knew the chief would have liked to, because of Carmel. If anybody needed a beating, Pug did.

  Pug said: “You guys scram. I want to talk to fatso, my pal.”

  Chief Piper glanced at me. “Go ahead,” I said. “I'll tell you if he says anything you ought to know.”

  The chief went out with the turnkey. They locked the steel door behind them.

  “So you double-crossed me?” I said: “What else did you expect?”

  Pug stood with his hands over his head, holding to the bar. He looked like pictures of a gorilla. There was that same over-development of arms and shoulders and chest. All he needed was more hair.

  “I got a couple of things to tell you,” he said. “Co ahead.”

  “One of 'em is I'm going to get you when I'm sprung.” His voice was so deep in his throat I had to move closer to hear him. “I'll get you if it's the last thing I do.”

  “The only trouble,” I said; “is you'll never get sprung.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “Now the other thing...” He reached out of the bars with his long arms, caught my coat and jerked me forward. As my face hit the bars he held the coat with his left hand, put his right arm around my neck and then grabbed a bar. He had me in kind of a vice and when he jerked back I thought my neck had broken.

  “Now wise guy...” Pug snarled. The hand holding the bar kept me from pulling back. I braced with both hands, but it didn't do any good. I couldn't get far enough back to breathe. I felt a terrible pressure behind my eyeballs. I tried to shout, but I couldn't make a sound. My head was bursting. I reached out with my right hand and hit up at Pug's stomach. He couldn't move away without letting go with his right hand. I drove my fist into his groin. He groaned and let go the bar and jerked free.

  I got my breath back and said: “Come on and fight, you bastard.”

  Pug moved in, snarling, and hit me through the bars. I felt my teeth give and tasted salty blood. He tried to hit me again, but I caught his arm and jerked him as hard as I could against the bars. His head hit the steel with a thwack. I reached both hands through the opening in the bars and clasped them behind his neck. I pulled forward, but the bars were a little too narrow for his head to go through. I pulled, bracing hard with my feet. He tried to claw me, but I kept my legs closed. I gave a big jerk and his head came through the bars, leaving skin behind. One side of his face was a mass of blood. I let go his neck and he tried to pull back, but couldn't. His head was still too big. I stepped closer and punched his face, using both hands. It was like a work-out with a punching-bag. I beat his face to a pulp. At last he slid down on the cement, his head still sticking out the bars. Blood began to pool under one cheek.

  I kicked his head a few times; but it wasn't worth while. He was out cold. I wiped the blood from my face with a handkerchief and pounded at the steel door. The turnkey opened it. Chief Piper stared at my face.

  “What happened?”

  “I bumped my head.”

  The chief said: “I was afraid Pug might try something.” He did,” I said. “But it didn't work.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  I LOOKED AT my watch by the arc light over the street-car stop. It was ten minutes past eleven. Fifty minutes and the Ceremony would start. I felt empty. I wanted a drink. I looked to see if I had the flashlight and the pistol I'd taken from the punk. Then I walked slowly down the road to the lane that led into the Vineyard, thinking about what I had to do. Heat lightning flickered in the sky.

  The Princess had on black silk lounging pyjamas and Chinese red slippers. The black silk made her skin look very white.

  “Hello, honey.”

  I said “Hello,” and got a drink of brandy. I sat on the big divan and drank the brandy. I could feel it grab my stomach. The Princess stood looking down at me. She made me nervous.

  “Have a drink, baby,” I said. “A farewell toast.”

  “Did you know McGee had been killed?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I read. Too bad.”

  “Did you know about it this afternoon?”

  “No.”

  Her eyes were a glassy blue. “You didn't frame him, did you?”

  “How could I do that?”

  “Well, it's damn funny.” Her eyes narrowed with thinking. “Both Pug and McGee were after you, and now one's dead and the other's in jail.”

  “Sure,” I said. “I fixed it. They call me Superman.”

  “God damn it!” she said. “I liked McGee. He had brains.”

  “Listen,” I said. “I didn't frame McGee. And if that's a lie, God strike me dead.”

  I waited, but nothing happened. Her face got softer looking and she poured herself a drink. Then she came and sat by me on the divan. I could smell her.

  “I guess you'll have to take his place,” she said.

  “Me? You're nuts. I'm leaving tonight.”

  “You were leaving, honey. But now you're business manager of the Vineyard.”

  “I don't want any part of the Vineyard.”

  “Don't you?” Her voice was as sweet as if she was talking to a baby. “Suppose the police heard about the robbery? And the murder? And found your fingerprints in the vault?”

  “I'd be in a hell of a fix.”

  “Well, nobody will tell them, honey, as long as you stick around and run things.”

  “I get it.”

  “I knew you would.” She stared at me, and then she unbuttoned my shirt and ran her hand over my chest. “You're not sore, are you?”

  “I don't know.”

  “A girl likes to have a hold over the man she loves. Can't you understand that, dear?”

  “Give me another drink.”

  She got the bottle of brandy and filled both glasses. I asked: “How long does this last?”

  “From now on. Won't that be nice, the two of us together.”

  “What about your wanting to wear pretty clothes and dance and see shows and go to night clubs?”

  “That was just talk, honey. I'm very happy here... with you.” She leaned towards me. “Honey, you love me, don't you?”

  I said: “Sure.” I looked at a clock on the table. It said half past eleven. Thirty minutes. The Princess's eyes went to the clock, too.

  “Honey, I'm sorry about that girl.”

  “Not as sorry as I am.”

  “You couldn't help it.”

  “I guess not.”

  She ran her hand under my shirt again. “She wanted to join the Vineyard. She even wanted to be the Bride.”

  “Yeah,” I said; “after she'd been doped a little.”

  “Don't think about it.” She drank her brandy, and then bit my neck. I tried to kiss her lips, but she wouldn't let me. I still didn't understand it. I saw the clock over her shoulder. Twenty-six minutes to go. She lay with her weight on me. “Darling,” she whispered. I ran my hand under the pyjama top. “Yes,” she said. “Yes.”

  Now the clock said ten minutes to twelve. She lay naked on the divan, her breasts soft, the nipples flat, looking like all the whores in the world. Her eyes were closed and her pink lips smiled a little. Her skin was pale against the black satin divan.
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  I poured a glass of brandy and drank it. Then I filled it again. She opened her eyes and looked at me. “Hello.”

  “Hello.”

  “Give me a drink.”

  I gave her the glass of brandy. She sat up and drank a little. I sat beside her on the divan. She leaned over and kissed my neck. Her lips were wet and cool and soft.

  “Honey,” she said. “We are going to have a nice time.”

  “Yes.”

  I kissed her. It was the first time on the lips. It was wonderful. I wondered why she hadn't let me before. I could feel her lips tighten under mine. They were getting warm. It felt like I had kissed an electric battery. I let her go and got up and poured myself another drink. I felt shaky. The clock said eight minutes to twelve.

  “You're not going yet?” she asked.

  “Pretty soon.”

  “Not yet, honey.” She got off the divan and came over to me. “Not yet.” She stood close to me and drank from my glass. She smiled at me. “Karl, do you love me?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “You don't say that as though you meant it.”

  “I do.”

  “Say 'I love you'.”

  “I love you,” I said.

  She put her arms around me. The glass fell out of my hand. Her body pressed against mine. Her skin was warm. She kissed my lips. There was that shock again. Her arms around my neck were choking me. I tried to push her away. She held me. I pushed harder.

  “That's right,” she said.

  I got away from her. Her eyes were excited. “Now hit me,” she said. “Hit me.”

  I hit her, really hit her. She went flat on the floor. I bent over her and touched her eyes, but there was no reaction. She was cold. I looked at the clock. Six minutes.

  I went into her bedroom and searched for the forty-seven grand. I looked everywhere. I looked in the dresser, in both closets, under the beds, even under the rug. In a chest I found the key to the storeroom and I put it in my pocket. Then I searched the bathroom. In the medicine cabinet, in a paper box of Epsom salts, I found the diamonds. They sparkled in the bathroom light. I put them in my pocket. The Epsom salts gave me an idea. I went through the other medicine. No luck. I jerked the can paper roll. Wound around under the paper were twenty one-thousand dollar bills. That was better than nothing. I wondered if McGee had got the rest.

  I went into the living-room. She was still on the floor, but she had come to. She looked at me, her eyes dazed. I got the brandy bottle and tapped her on the head with it. She went out again. I looked to see if there was any blood. There wasn't because of her hair. The clock said two minutes past twelve.

  I got a blouse and a skirt from the bedroom and put them on her. Then I dressed myself. I picked her up. She was heavy. I went out the door with her and across the damp grass to the temple. She made a snoring noise breathing. Her hair gleamed in the moonlight. The heat lightning lit up the horizon, but there was no thunder. I carried her in the basement door of the temple. I put her down and lit my flashlight and picked her up again. I carried her past where she had killed the guard to the door to the stairs. I could hear my heart beating, and hers. I carried her up the stairs and put her down. Under the door at the top I could see a dim light. I put out the flashlight and opened the door a crack. Candles made a smear of light at the end of a long room, lighting a black cross and the kneeling figures of twelve men. The men were in white and I figured they were the Elders. I smelled incense. A mumble of words came from the men; they were praying. They knelt in a half circle around the cross, their backs towards me. I wondered where Penelope Grayson was.

  After a while the men stopped praying and stood up. I got ready to carry the Princess away, but they went single file through a door near the cross. They were loaded down with food and bottles of wine and flowers. A current of air from the open door made the candles flicker, distorted the shadow of the cross on the wall. I heard chanting from the next room, and then I noticed something below the cross. It was a kind of a litter, but with short legs; and on it was a woman. A white cloth covered all her body except her head and her long blonde hair. I walked through the darkness to her. It was Penelope Grayson. Her eyes were wide open, but the pupils were as big as horehound drops. Her face was peaceful. When I put my hand over her eyes she didn't blink. She was full of dope.

  They were still chanting in the next room. The voices of the Elders were deep. I tiptoed back and got the Princess. She muttered something and I hit her with the flashlight. I put her down by the litter and jerked off the white cloth. Penelope didn't have such a bad figure. Maybe a little thin, but it had possibilities. There was rouge on her face and breasts. I stripped the Princess and took Penelope off the litter and put the Princess in her place. I pulled some pins out of the Princess's hair so it hung down the way Penelope's had. The chanting stopped, and suddenly I got spooked. I threw the cloth over the Princess and picked up Penelope and the clothes and ran to the stairs. The girl didn't weigh anything at all, and under my palms her skin was cold. She didn't struggle. Maybe she thought it was part of the Ceremony. Outside the door, at the head of the stairs, I put the blouse and skirt on her. They were too big for her. Then I looked in the room.

  The Elders were just coming back. They filed in, chanting again, and picked up the litter. They stood under the cross with the litter on their shoulders. Now one of them was singing along. I caught some of the words:

  She is the choice one of her that bore her.

  The daughters saw her, and called her blessed;

  Yea, the queens and the concubines, and they praised her.

  I didn't know what the hell that meant. The Elders walked slowly with the litter into the other room. I pulled out my watch and turned the flashlight on it. It was quarter past twelve. Grayson and the chief should be outside by now, but I didn't go after them. Instead I crawled past the cross to the far door and looked through. I saw the big room where McGee and I had looked at Solomon's casket. Four candelabra burned on the gold-leaf altar, and the Elders had set the litter down in front of them. I could see the gleam of the Princess's blonde hair. The Elders were chanting:

  If she be a wall,

  We will build upon her a turret of silver:

  And if she be a door,

  We will enclose her with boards of cedar.

  Then an Elder with a clear tenor voice sang:

  I am a wall, and my breasts like the towers thereof:

  Then was I in his eyes as one that found peace.

  They turned and walked in pairs down the aisle to the big front door of the temple. The one with the clear tenor voice sang:

  Make haste, my beloved,

  And be thou like to a roe or to a young hart

  Upon the mountains of spices.

  Then the last two turned and swung the big door shut. I couldn't hear them any more. I went a little further into the room and got that stink of decaying flesh. It was like the smell of a too-long-dead mule. I stepped to one side of the door, so the candles by the cross wouldn't shine on my back, and waited.

  All at once I felt hair rise on the back of my neck. I couldn't see anything but candles burning in the big candelabra and the light sliding off the Princess's hair, but I was plenty scared. Then I saw it, and I was more scared even though I knew what was coming. The glass top of the coffin opened and a man sat up. He had on a white robe and above it his face looked blue-white, like fish skin. He got up and stepped out of the coffin. He was very tall; I guess six and a half feet, and very thin. He went to the altar and prayed, kneeling in front of the candles. Wind came through the room, making the candles waver, and he looked around. I crouched in the shadow made by the door. He prayed again and then he took a long knife with a gold hilt off the altar. He went over to the litter, holding the knife against his chest. He pulled off the white cloth and raised the knife high above his head. I could see the golden colour of the Princess's skin by his knees.

  I turned and crawled through the door. Behind me I heard a sound,
as though somebody had slapped a wall with a wet towel, and then a moan, but, brother, I never once looked back. I got up and ran past the black cross and got Penelope Grayson and carried her down the stairs. She struggled a little; I guess she knew something was wrong. I propped her against the wall in the basement and shuffled through the dark towards the outside door. Suddenly something, almost like a big hand against my chest, stopped me, and I knew then what I had to do before I got the others. I guess I had been going to do it all the time or I wouldn't have taken the key to the storeroom. I unlocked the padlock and lit a match and put the diamonds and the twenty-seven grand of the Vineyard's money back where they had come from. I thought about the rest of the money, but I couldn't do anything about it, and by the time I'd got the padlock closed again I was feeling a little better. I was never cut out for a thief, I guess.