King Cole

by W. R. Burnett

  “Kitten, how would you like to have a little place of your own?”

  “Oh, dandy.”

  “How would you like to go to business college and learn something? You’re too smart a little girl to be wasting your time waiting for tips in a hotel.”

  “Oh, really; do you mean it? I never had a break in my whole life. All I’ve ever met are a bunch of pigs of men, who all they think about is fooling with me and won’t let me alone!”

  “Just be patient. When the election’s over, I’ll have a little time to myself. I’ll see if I can’t get you a clerk job some place; part time; and then you can go to school.”

  Read switched off the lights. Kitten said nothing. She took his arm and he carefully helped her down the dark steps.

  Barney looked a little surprised, but said nothing, and jumped out quickly to open the door for them.

  They rode a long time in silence; then Kitten said:

  “The first time I saw you come in the lobby I knew you weren’t like them other pigs of men. You shouldn’t talk the way you do. It isn’t just because you’re the Governor.”

  Read was pleased in spite of himself. But doubts returned. Why this sudden magnanimity? Was he trying to fool himself? He had never been very good at that.

  “Please,” said Kitten, “don’t laugh. I want to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “What time do you get up in the morning?”

  “Generally about eight.”

  “Can I get you up?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, can I call you on the phone and get you up? I won’t bother you. I just want to get you up, that’s all.”

  Read laughed.

  “You’re a funny kid. Yes. Call me. I’m a little hard to start in the mornings sometimes; that might help.”

  “I’ll pretend I’m the Massey Hotel,” said Kitten.

  FIVE: MONDAY

  I

  There was confusion in the State House. The Governor’s office was swamped with letters, petitions, telegrams. Almost all radical or semi-radical groups in the country had sent letters or telegrams of protest. Almost all conservative or reactionary organizations in the State had sent letters or telegrams of congratulation. Hundreds of prominent men were calling up or wiring for immediate appointments with the Governor. A group of citizens in South County were petitioning for martial law and had sent a spokesman, who sat in the anteroom chewing tobacco and staring at the activity about him with round eyes. Messenger boys, special delivery men, small politicians, reporters, cranks and sightseers jammed the rotunda and the Governor’s anteroom. Phones and buzzers rang incessantly. Clerks appeared, hurrying from one office to another, frowning and preoccupied, exclaiming irritably when they had to elbow their way through the corridors. Harold ambled about trying to soothe everybody, his forehead beaded with sweat. Miss Wilson was so sharp that some of the stenographers burst out crying. Even Charley Parrott was stirred out of his usual apathy and, as the press got worse as the morning went on, he finally lost his temper in the anteroom and began to shout, to the astonishment of several newspapermen who had known Charley for years and had never heard him raise his voice.

  About ten o’clock Captain Enright of the National Guard appeared with a squad of militiamen.

  “What do you want?” Charley shouted at him.

  “Colonel Putnam’s orders,” stammered the Captain. “He wants a man at each entrance and one in the Governor’s outer office. I’m to take charge.”

  “Well, help yourself,” said Charley, turning away and muttering: “What the hell is this, a war or an election?”

  The pressroom was a madhouse. Loud arguments were going on all over it. Men rushed in, looked about them wildly, then rushed out. Lines had formed in front of the telephones. Men sat at the typewriters with their hats on the backs of their heads, writing furiously and cursing the noise. Charley Parrott appeared from time to time, quieted the tumult, then answered a few questions, running out almost immediately with his hands to his ears.

  The Governor was in his office, talking calmly with Ed Sullavan, who looked worried. A Midland City Independent was spread out on Read’s desk and occasionally he glanced down at the huge front-page cartoon, labeled King Cole. Read was pictured sitting on a rickety throne with a crown on his head. Ed Sullavan was bringing his pipe to him. Major Bradley, obsequious in doublet and hose, was bowing over the bowl. Yardley Meadows, Henry Freytag and Lamont Jones were the fiddlers three.

  “… it’s the reports from the big cities, Governor,” Ed was saying. “I’ve played every card I know. This Armory business was a boomerang in the big industrial centers. A lot of the boys that was on the fence have gone over to Fielding. You scared them too much, Governor. I don’t like it.”

  “Predict a landslide,” said Read.

  “All right. The boys are coming over at noon. I’ll give ’em the works. But it don’t look so rosy.”

  “We’ve been in tighter ones.”

  “Yeah. I know. Uptown they’ve cut your odds down from two-to-one to even money. Some of the smart guys are taking all the Cole money they can find. Big guys like Red Dorsey. He’s generally right. I understand he stands to lose thirty thousand dollars if you win. Looks bad. I bet five thousand dollars on you at two-to-one. I should have waited. Oh, well.”

  “You just can’t keep your money in your pocket, can you?”

  Big Ed ran a shaking hand across his face.

  “No. Never could. I’ll die without a cent.”

  Read shrugged. He was a little preoccupied and was not paying very much attention to Sullavan, who always suffered from panic on the day before election. Read was wondering why Kitten hadn’t called him. He had got up earlier than usual that morning and all through breakfast he had been expecting Kitten to phone. He had answered call after call, expecting to hear her voice, but it had been either Charley, or Miss Wilson, or Harold. “That’s it!” he exclaimed to himself. “She has to phone at odd moments. My phone was busy all through breakfast.” Read felt a little better. He looked up at Sullavan and smiled.

  “Run back to Headquarters, Ed. Get yourself a jigsaw puzzle or something to keep your mind off the election.”

  Big Ed sighed.

  “What a chance! If I was dying, I’d still be worrying about tomorrow. You just got to beat ’em this time, Read; with your hookup and everything. If they beat you this time, with all these multimillionaires behind you, you’re on the skids. I wouldn’t be saying things like this, Read, only I know you never kid yourself and can take it. If the longhairs win this election we all might as well shut up shop and go West.”

  Sullavan got up and shook hands with Read.

  “We’ll go together,” said Read with a smile. “I need a rest. We’ll go to Hollywood and see the sights.”

  “They tell me that ain’t such a good place to rest in,” said Big Ed, laughing and shaking his belly. ”Well, goodbye. I wish it was over.”

  The door opened and Charley Parrott came in. His hair was on end, his face flushed.

  “Look at Charley,” said Big Ed. “Strain’s kind of telling on you, ain’t it, Charley? I swear I never saw you excited before.”

  “Hello, Ed. They’ve got me screwy. Wait a minute. Don’t go. I want to see you over in my office. Read, Major Bradley’s outside. Wants to see you right away if possible. Seems kind of tame today somehow. Looks like somebody found out about his family skeleton, or something.”

  “Have him come in.”

  “There’s a young guy named Martin wants to see you, too; personal matter.” Charley slapped his forehead. “I’m going round and round! Fred Martin. Engaged to Jean, isn’t he? Where’s my mind!”

  “I’ll see him after I see the Major.”

  Sullavan and Charley went out arm in arm, talking confidentially. After a moment the door opened and Major Bradley stepped in. He was as neatly groomed as ever but his face sagged and he looked old. Read got up to shake hands with him,
then they sat down.

  “How does it look, Governor?” asked the Major.

  “It’s hard to say. We can’t get much of an idea of the sentiment in the farming communities right now, but I have an idea things have changed since my Armory speech. The industrial centers are lost; we’re pretty sure of that. But even there it will be close. Don’t worry, Major. We’ve got a very good chance.”

  “The betting has changed.”

  “I know.”

  The Major took out a cigar and lit it; Read noticed that his hand shook. Finally the Major sighed deeply.

  “My boy,” he said, “a terrible thing has happened. I’m just talking about the election to have something to talk about. I’ve lost interest. We’ll all survive, I imagine, no matter who wins. Of course I want you elected, Governor. You know that. But right now I…”

  “Eileen?”

  “Yes. She’s gone.”

  Read got up quickly and walked over to the Major.

  “Gone?”

  “Yes. She ran away with that Italian. She didn’t even bother to marry him this time.” The Major paused. “Oh, I’m so mixed up I don’t know what I’m talking about. I mean, his brother. She married him. She went wild over him just the same way. She was a girl then. I put it down to inexperience. But she’s a woman now. Past thirty. I guess she’s just no good.”

  Read walked slowly back to his chair and sat down. He was stunned. Eileen gone!

  “I didn’t understand her,” said the Major. “I was hurt and felt pretty bad. But I didn’t really think she’d take up with another penniless no-account. I thought she’d come to her senses and marry you. You’d help her. She needs to be steadied. She’s very excitable and nervous. You’re so sensible. If she had a man like you for a husband… Oh, well! Too late now.”

  “When did she go?”

  “I don’t know. I got her note this morning. It had been pushed under my bedroom door.” The Major hunted through his pockets and finally found the note.

  It read:

  Dear Dad:

  Well, I’ve made up my mind at last. I’m going away with Vincent. I can’t stand Midland City any longer. Will you please continue my allowance? We won’t have a penny otherwise. I’ll send you my address later. We may marry and we may not. Does that shock you? It shouldn’t, knowing me.

  Please tell Read goodbye. He is so nice. Too nice. I nearly married him. That would have been foolish. He never would have been happy with me. What he needs is an honest, capable and dependable wife. He needs someone to help him. I wouldn’t do. I need help myself most of the time and I’m neither honest, capable nor dependable, I’m sorry to say. Let Read see this note if you like. If not, give him my very best.

  As ever,

  Eileen

  “The worst of it is,” said the Major when Read had silently returned the note to him, “she’s not well. She went to see young Dr. Cross last week. He dropped down to the office to see me. Said she ought to rest. He’s a very smart young fellow, Lon Cross. He asked me a lot of questions about her private life… I couldn’t answer, naturally. Oh, well. I hate to bother a man like you with this. But I… I just realized the last few weeks that I’m an old man. All I ever thought about was making money. It doesn’t make you happy. It never made Eileen happy. It never made my wife happy. I don’t know…”

  Read looked at the Major with surprise. He had always seemed so superior, so untouched by the miseries of life.

  “You know,” the Major said, “when you get older you see things differently. I never paid much attention to Eileen till she came home this last time. I was always too busy. I believe, I really and truly believe, that she actually dislikes me. Now, that’s a strange thing. One night I tried to tell her how I felt about her. How she was upsetting me by the way she was acting. You’d never guess, Governor, what she said to me. She said: ‘Oh, go count your money!’”

  Read cleared his throat and sat silent watching the smoke curl up from his cigar. Read, himself, was extremely close-mouthed. He simply could not talk about the things most important to him. Gregg, his friend for twenty years, knew very little about his inner life. The Major’s revelations embarrassed Read.

  “Wasn’t that a strange thing to say?” asked the Major. “I had no idea I seemed like that to Eileen. I had always tried to be a good father… But I won’t take up anymore of your time, Governor. I know how busy you are. There’s nothing either of us can do now.”

  Read felt a little sorry for the Major. His superior air had disappeared. He was rather apologetic now.

  “I was hoping Eileen would marry me,” said Read, getting up and offering his hand to the Major, who had risen and was staring at the floor.

  “Yes,” said the Major, “I hoped so, too. She needed a strong hand. It was Europe that did it. Got her head full of silly notions. Really, before she went abroad to live with her aunt she was just like her mother used to be. Sort of quiet and thoughtful and a little hard to get along with at times, but a lovable, happy girl. Then she met that Riquetti man… Well, goodbye, Governor. Good luck tomorrow. If you’re elected, we can sleep at nights. You’ve got good sense. The world is kind of crazy right now.”

  When the Major had gone, Read walked slowly up and down; then he went over and stood looking out the window. It was raining, a cold rain. The wet pavements shone. Shoals of umbrellas were moving across the State House yard. Read saw a crowd of people on the north porch, huddled together, waiting for the rain to slacken. Gradually he began to realize how terribly disappointed and hurt he was. She had probably never cared for him at all. He had been a mere stopgap till the right sort of man came along.

  Charley Parrott came in, but hesitated when he saw Read’s face, which was stony.

  “Anything wrong, Governor?”

  “No. Send Fred in.”

  “Yes, Read. Can you hear the noise? This place is a bedlam. The Colonel sent some soldiers over with Captain Enright. I told him to take charge. Is that all right?”

  I guess so.

  Charley watched the Governor covertly. He was sure something was wrong.

  “And I’ve got good news. The strike in Toledo was settled at eleven o’clock.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “Will you see that man from South County?”

  “No. I haven’t time. You talk to him, or pass him on to Shafer.”

  “All right. Senator Greeley and his son are in the Lieutenant Governor’s office. Will you drop over?”

  “Yes. In about half an hour. Did Tyburn call up?”

  “No, but I talked to his secretary. He wants to see young Greeley.”

  “You arrange it. Now send Fred in.”

  “All right, Read. Gregg called; said he was drunk last night. Wanted to know how you were; if there was anything new. I told him Major Bradley was in your office and he said not to bother you.”

  “I’ll talk to him later. Has Miss Wilson got the copies of my Memorial Hall speech out yet?”

  “Yes. By the way, Read: you’ve been so busy lately I didn’t want to bother you unless it was absolutely necessary; but after the election you’ve got to get somebody in Myra’s place…”

  “Myra?”

  “Miss Wilson. We’re going to get married.”

  “You… going to marry Miss Wilson!” Read was so surprised that Charley laughed.

  “You see, one day I took your advice. I invited her to lunch. She’s a real woman. None better. So I decided to marry her. I’m tired of living in hotels; I’m getting along. I want a home.”

  “Good for you, Charley. Congratulations. Come to think of it, I did see you and Miss Wilson walking around arm in arm lately.”

  “Thanks. Well, I won’t bother you anymore. I’ll send young Martin in.”

  “I’ll have to get you a raise in salary as a wedding present, Charley.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, Read. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

  Charley went out grinning. Read was still so surprised that h
e didn’t know what to think. Finally he said to himself: “Well, you never know. Charley has been running from marrying women all his life. Now he’s caught. Lucky thing for him probably.” Read sat down. He saw Eileen as he had last seen her; it didn’t seem possible that she was gone for good. How could she do such a thing? It seemed so completely fantastic. Read, himself, was a cautious man, and irresponsible people, people who had a tendency to do things without thought of consequences, people who calmly burned all their bridges behind them, puzzled and dismayed him. They seemed almost a different species. He sat remembering the first time he had seen Eileen. He was sitting in the Major’s den, talking politics with Wallace Jones and the Major, when she came in. She had been to a party and was wearing a beautiful, dark-red, almost backless evening gown. Her dark hair shown like lacquer under the lights. She sat with them for a moment, smoking a cigarette. Read was overwhelmed and studied her when she was not looking at him. He had never seen anybody quite like her. She was very nice to him and listened politely when he spoke; but also she was very distant, and he had no idea that they’d ever be close to each other. Strange how things turn out! Read sighed and lit a cigarette.

  The door opened and Fred Martin came in and stood turning his hat in his hands. He looked sullen. His black hair was mussed, his face red. There was something likable about this stocky, broad-shouldered, stubborn young man.

  “Hello, Fred. Sit down.”

  Fred hesitated, then sat on the edge of a straight chair.

  “Governor,” he said, “it’s about Jean.”

  “What’s she done now?”

  “Excuse me, Governor, for bothering you at a time like this, but I think you ought to know… Well, you see, Jean sort of got infatuated with that Riquetti fellow. We’ve been fighting ever since he came.”