The Hoods

by Grey, Harry

He handed a bill to the elder Himmelfarb.

  Himmelfarb took his glasses out and examined it thoroughly. He cleared his throat noisily. “This is fine money, Mr. Max. This is real, no?”

  Max asked, “What do you think?”

  Himmelfarb replied, “Good. Good. Fine money,” and he passed it to his brothers. They all agreed it was good money.

  Maxie picked up a bill and put a match to it, lit his cigar and let the bill burn to ashes. The act made the brothers uncomfortable.

  Maxie asked, looking at the Himmelfarbs, “Well. What's on your mind, gentlemen? Sorry we had to keep you waiting. We're busy, as you can see.”

  The minute the eldest one, who seemed to be the spokesman, opened his mouth, Maxie put his hand up.

  “Just a minute, Himmelfarb.”

  He turned to me and said, “Okay, then, we buy this money machine from the Professor tomorrow. What do you think?”

  “Yes, definitely,” I said, smearing it on thick. “It's the best manufacturing business we can get into. No labor costs, no overhead. A very good investment.”

  Patsy and Cockeye echoed, “A fine investment.”

  Maxie said, “Just a minute, boys. One thing we didn't consider. We have no manufacturing loft. We need a place to work the machine in. This place is no good for the purpose.”

  Maxie waved his hand around the room.

  The Himmelfarbs were whispering among themselves. They handled and examined the money surreptitiously. We ignored them completely. We continued to discuss the details of purchasing the money-making machine, the cost of paper, ink, and other necessities.

  Finally Maxie said, “Well, let's tend to the Himmelfarbs first. They got their own problems. They're not interested in our business.”

  The spokesman for the Himmelfarbs said, “We don't mind waiting. Go ahead with your business first, Mr. Max. It's very interesting. A very nice business you're discussing.”

  He turned to me. “Go ahead with your discussion, Mr. Noodles.”

  I smiled politely. “No, no. We've kept you waiting long enough. What's your problem?”

  “It's like this,” Himmelfarb began. “Our business is very, very slow.” Himmelfarb cleared his throat. “And our profits are no profits, so knowing you boyus got plenty of ways of making lots of money, we would like for you to get us a new business, maybe? Something with a good profit? A nice proposition that you boyus are too busy to handle. We got money to invest in a good, nice proposition, ain't we?”

  He turned to his brothers. They nodded eagerly. They smiled ingratiatingly. I was beginning to feel sorry for them. They were too gullible.

  Max puffed away on his cigar and kept rubbing his chin. “I'll tell you, Himmelfarb. Give me a day or so to think it over. I'll see what I can do. Come back tomorrow, okay?”

  Maxie, like a good fisherman, was playing it easy. He had them hooked; he was letting the line out gently.

  The Himmelfarbs nodded in agreement. They huddled together, whispering and gesticulating in animated discussion. We paid no attention to them. We continued to talk about the possible weekly profits we could make from operating the money-making machine. We talked in astronomical figures. At each of our quotations they got more excited and impressed. Finally they could contain themselves no longer.

  One of the Himmelfarbs said, “Excuse me, Mr. Max. Can we have some of these ten-dollar papers laying on the floor, maybe?”

  Maxie, with a grandiose wave of the hand said, “Sure. Help yourself. They only cost twenty-five cents apiece to manufacture.”

  “That's all?” Himmelfarb asked. “Gott in Himmel, what profit.”

  “Sure,” I cut in. “It only costs the United States government one cent apiece when they manufacture ten-dollar bills. That's because they got a big machine and a larger production. You can understand that, can't you? You're businessmen yourselves. Larger production, less cost is the business rule, ain't it?”

  The three nodded sagely. “Yah,” the old one murmured.

  I said, “Besides, Max, I understand the Professor uses better type paper than the Government. That's why it costs the Professor more to manufacture.”

  I was wondering if I was overdoing it. I looked at them. No, I decided they had already swallowed the bait, hook, line and sinker.

  The youngest Himmelfarb stepped out boldly. “We heard you talking about a loft. We got a very nice loft for money manufacturing purposes, Mr. Max.”

  “Well, I don't know.” Maxie appeared doubtful. “We're not looking for partners. Then again, on the other hand, we're pretty busy with other things.”

  He turned to us questioningly.

  I volunteered, “There's plenty of profits for everybody. They look pretty honest to me, Max.”

  The oldest Himmelfarb nodded eagerly. “Yes, we can give plenty of references.”

  Maxie said, “Well, I don't know. Maybe yes, maybe no.”

  He rubbed his chin as if he were giving it serious consideration.

  “Okay, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll let you boys in on the deal for a half interest. The machine cost thirty-five thousand dollars. I'll put in twenty thousand and you boys put in only fifteen thousand because we're going to use your loft. Okay?”

  Maxie knew he had them securely hooked. Without any more ado, with a swift firm hand he began reeling his fish in. He took his roll out and counted out twenty thousand dollars before their bulging eyes.

  Carelessly he tossed it to the eldest Himmelfarb. “You hold all the money,” he said. “You be the treasurer, okay? Let's have a drink on the new partnership.”

  Maxie was giving them the rush act. He had the fish in the basket, and was closing the cover.

  Cockeye went to the bar and ordered. Moe came in with a tray of doubles. We drank to a chorus of “Mazel.”

  The youngest Himmelfarb scurried over the floor, picking up ten spots, apologetically saying, “They're only samples, no?”

  I could see Maxie was getting slightly perturbed. He took the youngest one under the arm, herded the rest of the Himmelfarbs together toward the door and said, “I tell you what. Go out to the stores, even to the Public National Bank and try these samples out. Don't forget it's Saturday, and the bank is only open a half day. Come back in about an hour. Meanwhile I will make arrangements with the Professor to bring the money machine over to your loft. Okay, partners?”

  At the word “partners” their faces lit up. I could imagine their pride, partners with the fabulous Big Maxie, the man everybody feared and respected: politicians, police, union officials, gunmen, the whole world. Big Maxie, the millionaire bootlegger and slot machine operator, the man who has money like dirt and treats it as such. Partners! Their faces were glowing with pride. Now, they probably thought, they would have protection from everybody. They could tell everybody to drop dead. They were partners with Big Maxie. I could see they felt a new dignity. They tried to control their mounting excitement.

  The eldest Himmelfarb stuck his hand out. “It's a big pleasure to be friends and partners with you, Mr.—”

  Maxie cut him off. He said modestly, “Just call me Maxie.”

  Himmelfarb hesitated and laughed, then said, “Yes, my friend Maxie. We will be back in an hour. Goodbye, Mr. Noodles, goodbye, partners.”

  Maxie patted them on the back and shooed them out at the same time.

  “Okay, partners, okay. We'll see you boys in an hour.”

  They were laughing and waving as they went out.

  As soon as they went out the door, Maxie snapped his fingers at Cockeye.

  “Quick, keep an eye on them. They got my twenty grand, the stupid bastards.”

  Cockeye went out to tail them.

  Maxie went over to the phone and called the Professor at his shop to come right over. Fortunately, he was in. Max explained he had a deal for him. The Professor promised he would be there in twenty minutes.

  Maxie tossed Pat and me Coronas. We lit up and we sat puffing away.

  Maxie said, “What do you thin
k?”

  I said, “It looks okay. They're typical businessmen. Anything to make an honest dollar.”

  Patsy added, “Them clucks will go for it, balls and all.”

  Moe came in with a tray of doubles, saying, “Refreshments?”

  Maxie said, “You're a mind reader.”

  We sipped our drinks slowly, each deep in his own thoughts.

  The Professor was prompt. Twenty minutes on the dot, he arrived. We all shook hands ceremoniously. He was that type. He had changed much through the years, for the better. He had acquired a polish. He was the same short, stocky, assured middle-aged Italian with the familiar large flowing mustachio. He exuded prosperity, confidence and well-being. He was a real cosmopolitan. We heard he had traveled extensively, selling his money machines and confidence games to the gullible and avaricious all over the world. We had heard that he worked in cahoots with every distinguished order and fraternity in the international underworld, such as the Mafia, Unione Siciliana, the Limehouse Clique in London, the Parisian outfit in France and with some of the most eminent members of the United States Criminal Combination.

  Maxie asked, “Have a drink, Professor?”

  The Professor replied with a gracious wave of the hand, “A little vin ordinaire.” He was putting on airs; he forgot we knew him from the old days.

  Max looked at Patsy, puzzled. Pat shrugged his shoulders and said, “You mean ordinary red wine, Professor?” When he smiled, he showed his dazzling white teeth.

  Maxie said, “We still call it Guinea red.”

  He chuckled, “I'm getting reacquainted with your American colloquial expressions. Guinea red, that one was unique. I don't care much for intoxicating liquors as a rule and when I do indulge, my tastes run to the plebian side, for I am of stout peasant stock, but,” he struck a righteous dramatic pose, “I derive my greatest pleasure from mulcting the aristocracy whenever possible.”

  “In that respect, we are 'gens de meme famille,'“ I shot at him. I finally had my opportunity to get that phrase out of my system.

  “Yes, yes,” he nodded and smiled. “We are all birds of the same feather.”

  “Okay, you guys, cut the horseshit. You don't have to put on the act yet,” Max said. “When we have the stage all set, then you guys will go into your star act.”

  Maxie brought the Professor up to date on all the details of our pending transaction with the Himmelfarb brothers.

  The Professor was amused at the way the hook had been baited to catch the Himmelfarbs. He interrupted the tale here and there with hilarious laughter and remarks of “Clever. Indeed, very clever.”

  When Maxie came to the part where the brothers were investing fifteen thousand dollars on the machine, he turned serious. He put his hand up for attention. He shed all his affectations; he acted tense. He spoke our language. He used Jewish locutions.

  “Let's have an understanding between us. Tauchess offen tish, boyus. What's my cut?”

  Maxie raised his eyebrows. “What do you expect?”

  “You ask, what do I expect? What do you think? I want five thousand bucks.”

  “Five thousand bucks? You're not entitled to such a large slice, but, okay, we'll chalk it up as part payment for the tuition you gave us in the old days.” Maxie yawned, “Okay, your cut on the deal is five grand. Don't get your balls in an uproar.”

  The Professor smiled and rubbed his hands together.

  “Fine, Max, fine, when and where is it to take place?”

  He became completely relaxed. I smiled at the by-play.

  Maxie answered, “Meet us here at three o'clock tomorrow afternoon with the machine.”

  “Agreed,” he replied.

  We shook hands. At the door he was the cosmopolite again. He waved, “A rivederci.”

  I waved in reply. “Au revoir until tomorrow.”

  We sat down. Maxie tossed me a fresh Corona. We lit up. Max was smiling.

  “Quite a character, that Professor. He's an actor. Hey, Noodles, you and him would make a team.”

  I answered facetiously, “I can't help it if I'm a smart feller.”

  Maxie laughed.

  I asked Patsy, “Judging from his speech what part of Italy does the Professor come from?”

  “You got me, I'm a mountain guinea. Goola tay is the kind of Italian I use,” he answered.

  We laughed together.

  Moe came in with a tray of doubles. We sat around smoking and slowly relishing our drinks.

  Suddenly Patsy exclaimed, “What about Mr. Moore in the closet?”

  “Jesus, I forgot all about him,” Maxie said. We all had to laugh at Maxie's unhappy expression.

  “It's a lousy thing to laugh about,” Max said. “But what the hell. We'll do right by him yet.”

  Moe came in and said, “The Himmelfarbs are out front again. Let them in?”

  Just then Cockeye came in through the back door all out of breath. “Them Himmelfarb shmucks led me a goddamn chase.”

  Maxie said to Moe, “Let them Himmelfarbs wait awhile.”

  He snapped to Cockeye, “What happened?”

  “They were ten-dollar bill slap-happy. They went into every store in the neighborhood trying out your samples.”

  “So—they were pretty good samples if I have to say so myself,” Maxie chuckled to himself.

  Cockeye continued: “They even tried the samples in the Public National Bank.”

  We all laughed.

  Cockeye said, “But this is going to put a crimp in your laughter, Maxie. I saw them deposit your twenty grand at the receiving teller's window.”

  As he finished the sentence, Cockeye burst out laughing. We all laughed at Maxie's sudden expression of woe. He sat there in a state of flux for the moment, scratching his head, muttering, “Hmmm, hmmmm.”

  After awhile he said, “What the hell. Let's see what they're up to. Tell Moe to send them in.”

  The three brothers came hurrying in, very much excited, tripping over each other in their haste. The eldest had one hand on his heaving chest. He was gasping for breath. His thick lips were wet. Spittle showered the air with each word.

  “It was wonderful, marvelous. All the stores, everybody, liked the samples. I even tried to change it in the bank, knowing they're experts. For a minute I was scared, terrible. The teller looked at me and said, 'Nice new bill, Mr. Himmelfarb. Make it yourself?' So, I was afraid. I said, 'No. I got a friend who makes them.' So what do you think, the schlemihl, he says to me? 'Himmelfarb, you go into business with your friend. You'll be a millionaire.' Then he was laughing, the meshuggener.”

  Each brother added his excited comment about passing the machine-made ten-dollar bills. They were so overzealous, we didn't have a chance to stick a word in edgewise. Their enthusiasm for buying the machine from the Professor today and starting to print money right away, made one of them stutter, “Time is...”

  “Time is paramount,” I prompted.

  “What? Yes, yes, that's it, Mr. Noodles.”

  “Take it easy, partners.”

  Maxie was tapping the table for attention. He repeated, “Take it easy.”

  He was smiling at their eagerness. Presently, Max had their attention.

  “Gentlemen,” he said. “I can see you're real businessmen. You're smart. You recognize a good thing immediately, but we can't start business until tomorrow. I have made arrangements with the Professor who invented this wonderful machine to be at your loft tomorrow at four p.m., and we will complete the transaction there. Okay, partners?”

  They nodded their heads in approval. The eldest one kept gushing with a fine spray of spit. “It's wonderful. Fine, fine.”

  Maxie leaned over to get a light for his cigar. He muttered in a low voice, “I need an umbrella for this bastard.”

  I whispered back, “How about your twenty grand?”

  Maxie nodded. He spoke with apparent lightness. “Himmelfarb, old boy, have you got the twenty thousand in a safe place?”

  “Oh sure,” Himme
lfarb replied. “I'm a businessman, ain't I? I made a deposit in the Public National, and tomorrow, I make out a check for the full total complete amount to the Professor's name. Yes?”

  Patsy and I exchanged glances. I was wondering how Maxie would handle this unforeseen problem, but it was simple for Max. He gave it the direct approach.

  “No checks, no bookkeeping. Strictly on a cash basis, or I buy the machine for myself.” Maxie's manner was bold and audacious. “You have the thirty-five thousand cash ready tomorrow positively at four p.m. at your loft. The Professor will be there with the machine. Don't forget, cash, or I go into it myself.”

  “Sure, sure. It's nothing. Anything you say, partner. I'll have the cash ready.” Himmelfarb had an ingratiating smile on his face. “Only one thing. Will the Professor give us a demonstration?” He lifted his eyebrows questioningly. “And maybe a guarantee for a year?”

  He smiled and looked at his brothers for approbation. They smiled back their admiration at his foresight.

  Maxie replied placidly, “You'll get everything: a very good demonstration, and maybe, because I'm your partner, the Professor will give a two-year guarantee.” Maxie stood up. “Okay, gentlemen. That about covers everything. I'm a busy man. Until tomorrow then?”

  Maxie walked them to the door in the manner of a busy executive politely shooing visitors out.

  We all said, “Goodbye. See you tomorrow.”

  “Whew,” Maxie said with a sigh of relief. “Them bastards are a real three-piece set.”

  “What three-piece set?” Cockeye asked.

  We laughed.

  Cockeye took his harmonica out and started playing “Dardanella.”

  Patsy shook his head. “Hey, Cockeye, have a little respect,” he gestured with his thumb towards the closet, “for our friend, Mr. Moore.”

  Cockeye stopped, tapped his harmonica on his palm. “How's this?” and softly played, “Melancholy Baby.”

  Patsy smiled and nodded. “Yep, something sad for the occasion.”

  We sat around smoking, drinking and making desultory conversation. Patsy said, “I hear the same Wop plainclothesman is still at it. He's still making pinches on the machines up in Harlem. What's the matter? Can't Frank reach him?”

  Maxie shrugged. “Who the hell knows? He's probably looking to make a record of slot-machine arrests.”