“Maybe you got the money from working nights without reporting it to us?” he suggested smoothly, a note of triumph in his voice. “You weren’t holding out on us, were you, Mr. Fisher?”
My gaze came up from the floor and fastened on his face. How could they have found out about that? “What’s that got to do with it?” I asked quickly.
He was smiling again. He seemed very proud of himself. “We have ways of finding out things,” he said mysteriously. “It doesn’t pay to fool us. You know, Mr. Fisher, you can go to jail for something like that. It constitutes fraud against the City of New York.”
My temper wore thin. I’d had enough misery for one day. “Since when does a guy go to jail if he wants to work?” I burst out angrily. “What in hell are you trying to tell me?”
“Nothing, Mr. Fisher, nothing,” he said smoothly. “I’m just trying to get at the truth, that’s all.”
“The truth is that three people can’t live on seventy-two bucks a month and a supplementary diet of dried prunes and seed potatoes!” I had raised my voice and it echoed in the narrow hallway. “Yuh gotta try to grab an extra buck or yuh starve!”
“Then you admit you had a job nights while pretending to us that you were totally unemployed?” he asked calmly.
“I admit nothing!”
“Yet you had seventy dollars with which to bury your child.”
“Yes, I buried her!” I could feel the knots in my throat choking me. “That was all I could do. If I’d had any dough, do you think I would have waited for your bloody doctor to come? If I’d had any money I would have called another doctor. Maybe then she would be here now!”
His eyes surveyed me coldly. I didn’t know a human being could have so little feeling. “Then you were working nights?” he asked again.
Suddenly all the pain and bitterness and heartache welled up inside me and I grabbed him by the tie and pulled his face close to mine. “Yes, I was workin’ nights!” I snarled at him.
His face turned white and wriggled in my grip. “Let me go, Mr. Fisher,” he gasped. “Violence isn’t going to do you any good. You’re in enough trouble already!”
He didn’t know how right he was. A little more wouldn’t make any difference now. I hit him flush on the face and he fell back against the wall on the other side of the narrow hallway. I could see a smear of blood coming to his nose as I went after him.
His eyes were frightened and he scrambled quickly along the wall to the stairway. I stood there and watched him run. At the head of the stairs he turned and looked back at me. His voice was almost hysterical. “You’ll pay for this!” he screamed back at me. “You’ll get thrown off relief. You’ll starve! I’ll see to that!”
I stepped toward him threateningly. He began to hurry down the steps. I leaned over the railing. “If yuh come back, yuh little bastard,” I snouted down at him, “I’ll kill yuh! Stay the hell away from me!”
He disappeared down the next landing and I went back into the apartment. I was beginning to feel sick. There was a peculiar shame in me as if I had defiled the day. I shouldn’t have acted like that. Any other day maybe, but not today.
Nellie was standing in the bedroom door. “Who was it, Danny?”
I tried to calm my voice. “Some monkey from Welfare,” I said. “A wise guy. I sent him away.”
“What did he want?”
She’d had enough for one day, there was no use in making it worse. “Nothin’ special,” I said evasively. “He just wanted to ask some questions, that’s all. Go back to bed and rest, baby.”
Her voice was dull and hopeless. “They know about the night job, don’t they?”
I stared at her. She had heard. “Why don’t you try an’ get some sleep, baby?” I ducked her question.
Her eyes were fixed on mine. “Don’t lie to me, Danny. It was true what I said, wasn’t it?”
“What if it is?” I admitted. “It ain’t important now. We’ll make out on the job. The boss promised me a rise soon.”
She stood staring at me. I could see the tears welling into her eyes again. I crossed the room quickly and took her hand. “Nothing goes right for us, Danny,” she said hopelessly; “not even on a day like this. Trouble, always trouble.”
“It’s all over now, baby,” I said, holding on to her hand. “From now on things’ll go better.”
She looked up at me, her eyes dead in her face. “It will never be any different, Danny,” she said. “I’ve brought you nothing but hard luck.”
I twisted her face around to me. “Nellie, yuh gotta forget that idea!” I pressed my lips to her cheek. “Yuh can’t go on livin’ thinkin’ that nothing’s gonna be okay. Yuh gotta hope for better!”
Her gaze met mine levelly. “What is there to hope for?” she asked quietly. “How do you know you even have a job now? You haven’t called there in four days.”
“I’m not worried about that,” I said. But it was true. I had forgotten all about calling the store. “Jack will understand when I explain to him.”
She looked up at me doubtingly, and some of her doubt seeped into me.
Jack looked up at me as I walked into the store. There was no welcome in his eyes. I looked down the counter. Another man was working my station.
“Hello, Jack,” I said quietly.
“Hello, Danny,” he replied without enthusiasm.
I waited for him to ask me where I’d been, but he didn’t speak. I could see he was angry, so I spoke first. “Something happened, Jack,” I explained. “I couldn’t come in.”
His eyes reflected his anger. “Yuh couldn’t even call in five days either, I suppose?” he asked sarcastically.
I met his gaze. “I’m sorry about that, Jack,” I said apologetically. “I know I should have called, but I was so upset I forgot all about it.”
“For two nights I broke my back here waitin’ for you to show up an’ you don’t even have time to phone me!”
I looked down at the counter. “I couldn’t help it, Jack,” I said. “Something happened an’ I couldn’t call.”
“Not even once in five days?” he said unbelievingly. “The world would have to come to an end before I’d pull a stunt like that.”
I still didn’t look at him. “I had trouble, Jack,” I said quietly. “My daughter died.”
There was a moment’s silence before he spoke again. “You’re not kiddin’ me, Danny?” he asked.
I looked up at his face. “You don’t kid with things like that,” I answered.
His eyes fell. “I’m sorry, Danny. Honestly sorry.”
I looked down the counter. The new man was watching out of the corner of his eyes, trying to give the impression that he wasn’t interested in what we were saying, but I knew the look. He was worrying about his job. I’d had it too many times myself not to recognize it.
I looked back at Jack. “I see you got a new man.”
He nodded uncomfortably. He didn’t speak.
I tried to make my voice sound casual, but it’s hard when what you’re saying is the difference between eating and not eating. “Yuh got any room for me?”
He was silent for a moment before he answered. I could see his eyes shift down the counter to the new man, then back. The new man immediately was busy cleaning the grill. “Not right now, Danny,” he said gently. “I’m sorry.”
There was a deep note of sympathy in his voice that I was grateful for. “Maybe something’ll turn up soon,” he said quickly. “I’ll phone yuh.” A moment passed. “If only you’d called, Danny——”
“If a lot of things, Jack,” I interrupted him, “but I didn’t. Thanks, anyway.” I walked out of the store.
In the street outside the store I looked at my watch. It was after six o’clock. I wondered how I could tell Nellie, especially after what had happened this afternoon.
I decided to walk home. It was a long walk, but a nickel is a lot of dough when you haven’t got a job. From Dyckman Street to East Fourth took me almost three hours. I didn’t m
ind it. It was that much more time I wouldn’t have to tell Nellie.
It was nine o’clock by the time I reached home. The night had turned cool, but my shirt was damp with perspiration as I began to climb the stairs. I stood in the hallway hesitantly before opening the door. What could I tell her? I let it swing wide before I stepped in. There was a light in the parlour, but the apartment was quiet. “Nellie,” I called, turning to hang my jacket in the small closet.
There was a sound of footsteps and I heard a man’s voice: “That’s him!”
I spun around. Nellie and two men were standing in the parlour entrance. Her face was pale and drawn. I took a quick step toward her before I recognized the man standing next to her. It was the Welfare investigator I had chased this afternoon.
There was a white bandage across the bridge of his nose and one eye was purple and swollen. “That’s him!” he repeated.
The other man stepped toward me. He held a badge in his hand—a police badge. “Daniel Fisher?”
I nodded.
“Mr. Morgan has preferred charges against you of assault and battery,” he said quietly. “I’ll have to take you in.”
I could feel my muscles tense. This was all I needed to make a perfect day: the cops. Then I looked at Nellie and all the tension seeped out of me.
“May I talk with my wife for a moment?” I asked the detective.
His eyes appraised me for a moment, then he nodded. “Sure,” he said gently. “We’ll wait outside in the hall for you.” He took Morgan’s arm and pushed him out into the hall before him, looking back at me before closing the door. “Don’t be long, son.” I nodded gratefully and the door swung closed.
Nellie hadn’t said a word, her eyes were searching my face. At last she drew a deep breath. “No job?”
I didn’t answer.
She stared at me for a moment more and then she was in my arms, sobbing violently against my shoulder. “Danny, Danny,” she cried in a helpless voice, “what’ll we do?”
I stroked her hair gently. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what we could do. The walls were closing in on us.
She looked up into my face. “What do you think they’ll do to you?” she asked.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know,” I answered. I was so tired I didn’t really care. If it weren’t for her I wouldn’t give a damn for anything any more. “They’ll probably book me and let me go until a hearing is arranged.”
“But supposing they hold you?” she cried.
I tried a smile. “They won’t,” I answered, more surely than I felt. “It’s not important enough. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“But that Mr. Morgan, he was terrible. He said they were going to put you in jail.”
“That louse!” I said quickly. “There’s a lot of things he don’t know. When they hear what has happened they’ll let me out. Don’t worry.”
She hid her face against my shoulder. “Nothing’s turning out right, Danny,” she despaired. “All I’ve brought you is bad luck. You should never have come back.”
I turned up her face and kissed her. “If I hadn’t come back, baby,” I whispered, “I would have missed the only thing in the world that was important to me. It’s not your fault; it’s nobody’s fault. We just didn’t get the breaks.”
There was a knock at the door. “I’ll be out in a minute,” I called. I looked down at Nellie again. “Lie down for a while,” I said. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She looked at me doubtfully. “Sure?”
“Sure,” I answered, taking my jacket from the closet. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
Morgan’s face glared at me triumphantly as we walked through the streets. “I told you I’d be back,” he sneered.
I didn’t answer him.
The detective between us growled at him: “Shut up, Morgan. The lad’s got enough trouble without you opening up your yap.”
I glanced at the cop out of the corner of my eye. I could see he didn’t like Morgan. He was one of those Irishmen with tender eyes. I wondered how a guy like that could ever become a cop.
We had walked almost two blocks before I spoke. “What do they usually do in a thing like this?” I asked the detective.
His face turned toward me, its ruddy glow shining in the light of the street lamps. “They book yuh on charges against a hearing.”
“Then they let you go until the hearing, is that right?” I asked.
The cop’s eyes were sympathetic. “If yuh got the bail they do.”
The surprise showed in my voice. “Bail?” I exclaimed. “How much bail?”
The cop’s eyes were still gentle. “Five hundred dollars usually.”
“But what if you haven’t got the dough?” I asked. “What do they do then?”
Morgan answered before the cop could. “They put you in jail until the hearing,” he said viciously.
I broke stride and looked at the cop. “But they can’t do that!” I exclaimed. “My wife is sick. She’s gone through a lot today. I can’t leave her alone tonight.”
The detective took my arm. “I’m sorry, son,” he said gently, “but I can’t help that. All I’m supposed to do is bring you in.”
“But Nellie—my wife”—I could hardly speak—“I can’t leave her alone. She’s not well.”
The cop’s voice was still soft. “Don’t get excited, son. You’d better just come along.”
I could feel his grip tightening on my arm. I began to walk again. I had read in the papers that sometimes hearings took weeks to be arranged. I looked at Morgan.
He was walking on the other side of the cop, a smug, satisfied look on his face. The bastard. If it weren’t for him everything might have been better. Things had been bad enough, but he made them worse.
I had to do something, I didn’t know what. I just couldn’t let them lock me up until they were ready to give me a hearing. I couldn’t leave Nellie alone that long. There was no telling what she might do.
We stepped out into the gutter just as the light changed. Automobiles whizzed by us as we paused in the centre of the street. I felt the cop’s hand fall from my arm and instinctively I jumped forward. I heard a muttered curse behind me, then a scream as a driver threw on his brakes. I didn’t turn back to see what had happened. I kept running.
There was a shout: “Stop! Stop!” Then another voice took up the cry. I recognized the shrill-pitched tones of Morgan. He was screaming too.
A shrill blast of a police whistle reached my ears. But by that time I had reached the far corner and I looked back over my shoulder as I sped around it.
Morgan was lying stretched out in the gutter, and the policeman was standing over him, looking at me. The cop was waving his hand at me. I could see the glint of metal shining in his hand. He was still shouting for me to stop, but his hand was telling me to go.
Chapter Four
I WENT the long way around and back to my house. I had to see Nellie and explain to her. I had to tell her what I’d done. I had to tell her not to worry. But by the time I reached the corner I could see the white top of a police patrol car parked in front of my door.
I crossed the street and went up the block slowly. There was, deep in my stomach, a heavy, sunken feeling of despair. I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes after ten. I had been a fool. There was nothing to do now but go back and give myself up. If I kept on running, there would be no end to it. I would never be able to go back.
I started back for the house. Might as well get it over with. Then I remembered that the whole thing had started when I found I would need bail in order to get out.
I stopped again and thought. I would have to get the dough some place. Nellie’s folks didn’t have that kind of money even if they were willing to help me out. The only person I knew that could put his hands on that much dough was Sam.
I remembered the last time I spoke to him. Funny how things worked out. It had been the day after Vickie was born. He had thought I had come
looking for a hand-out then, and I had sworn to myself that I would never go to him for anything after that. But I was in real trouble now. There was nothing else for me to do. It was either go to him or to jail. And now I had done enough for them to lock me up and throw away the key. I had to ask him.
I went into the candy store on the corner and thumbed quickly through the telephone directory. I tried his home number.
A woman’s voice answered: “Hello.”
“Is Mr. or Mrs. Gordon there?”
“Miz Gordon is away in the country,” the voice replied. “Mistuh Gordon is still down at his office.”
“May I have the number please?” I asked. “I must get in touch with him right away.”
“Sure,” the voice replied. “Just a minute, I’ll get it for you.”
I copied the number down and put up the receiver while I searched my pockets for another coin. I might as well have been looking for a gold mine for all the good it did me. I had just spent my last nickel.
Sam’s office was uptown in the Empire State Building. I began to walk quickly. With a break I could get there in little more than half an hour. I hoped he would still be there.
His name was in the directory on the Thirty-fourth Street side: “Sam Gordon Enterprises Inc., Concessions.” Twenty-second floor. I went over to the white sign that read: “Night Elevators.” A watchman was standing there with a registry book on a small stand. He stopped me. “Where you going, mister?” he asked suspiciously.
“Twenty-second floor,” I asked quickly. “I got an appointment with Mr. Gordon there.”
He looked at the register. “Okay,” he said. “Mr. Gordon is still up there. He hasn’t signed out since he returned from dinner. Sign here.” He held a pencil toward me.
I took it and scrawled my name where he indicated. I looked up the page. About four lines above mine I saw Sam’s familiar scribble. Next to his name was a circle with the numeral 2 in it.
A Stone for Danny Fisher (1952) Page 30
