by Peter Rabe
There was a pause while Pendleton looked bored.
“For Chrissakes, Pendy, we got to settle this thing. Look what I got to offer, the whole organization! I ran it for him. I built it up.”
“What you are trying to say, Alverato, is that I have the contacts and neither you nor your army of hoodlums can do a thing without them.”
“Damn it, I don’t care how you put it. You ran one end of the business and I handled the other. Old Ager is dead and you and I got to get together, don’t you see?”
“I don’t see that at all.”
“Whaddaya mean?” Alverato was starting to shout “For Chrissakes, everything is standing still! Nothing big has moved for months now. You want the whole thing to fold up?”
“Alverato. The organization has always been your concern. Aside from some minor collection activities that I inherited from Ager, my business dealings don’t resemble yours in the least. And as I have told you, I am not interested in helping you along in your affairs.”
Big Al took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again they looked small and piggish. “The dough, Pendleton. Think of the dough. Without our partnership-”
“I am not interested in money. That is to say, not the way you make it. My activities as Ager’s assistant had very little resemblance to your outdated methods.”
“Outdated! Listen, you bastard. I was making dough when you were still sitting on your wrinkled ass doing bookkeeping someplace. What I got to offer-”
“I know what you have to offer. An army of hoodlums with guns in their hands. Outdated, as I have said. Guns are noisy and corpses talk, Alverato.”
“Well, you listen to me. It happens I like noise and I got a way with a corpse so he don’t talk!”
“Nevertheless, Alverato, I would always consider you a liability. In fact, it escapes me how you ever got to where you are.”
Pendleton did the trick with his shoulder and continued to look bored. Even when Alverato jumped up from the table, his face livid, Pendleton did not stir.
“Escapes you?” Alverato roared. “Escapes you, you sonafabitch? I’ll show you in a second how I got where I am! Scotty, get over here,” and he waved at one of the hoods. The man stood close to the table while Alverato kept bellowing: “And I’ll show you how I’m going to stay where I am!” Without the slightest sign of preparation Alverato’s massive fist swung out and cracked hard into the gunman’s face. Scotty’s head snapped back and he hit the floor with a dull thud. His gun clattered down next to him. “Did you see that, Pendleton? Did you catch the meaning, Pendleton? Hey, Scotty!” Alverato walked over to the man on the floor and prodded him with his shoe. “Get up, Scotty.”
The man tried his best, but there was blood in his eyes and he started choking on a broken tooth.
“Get up, damn it,” Alverato took him under the arms. When Scotty was up, Alverato leaned down and picked up his gun. He gave it back to the man and nodded toward the wall.
“You got any other questions in your mind, Pendleton? You got any other ideas about what’s outmoded or something?”
Benny looked over at Scotty. The man was standing as before, gun in hand, watching Pendleton the way he had been told. He was breathing open-mouthed because of the blood in his nose. Benny reached in his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and started to walk to the other wall when Pendleton pushed himself up from his chair.
“My hat, Tapkow,” he said.
Benny stopped and gave Pendleton a short look. Then he walked over to Scotty and put the handkerchief in his hand.
“My hat, Tapkow.”
Benny walked to the chair by the French windows and picked up the hat.
“What’s this hat business?” Alverato’s voice was still loud. “Sit down, Pendleton, and let’s get down to brass tacks.”
Benny had stopped by the window, waiting for Pendleton to sit down again. But he didn’t. When Pendleton waved, Benny didn’t see it. He wasn’t thinking about hats. He was thinking about the deal that was breaking up, Old Man Ager’s empire halfway on the rocks because that dried-up bastard-
“Look, Mr. Pendleton.” Benny said it fast. “This thing you’re talking about. I got an idea-” and then he saw Pendleton’s face.
There was no point in going on. Benny looked around the room, at Alverato, and at Pendleton’s back by the door. Then he followed his boss to the car and drove him back to Sutton Place.
Chapter Three
Pendleton sat behind the glass in the dark and Benny drove back to New York without a word, as a chauffeur should. But he wasn’t through yet. Seven years of saying, “Yes, sir,” seven years of pushing up the hill-that wasn’t going to end with a little slap on the wrist and a “Thank you, sir, for the uniform.” Benny worked his hands on the wheel. He wasn’t through yet; nor was Pendleton.
He let him out at the front of the apartment, parked the car in the basement garage, and took the service elevator to the top floor.
“In the library,” said the butler, and Benny walked into the long room where Pendleton was waiting behind the desk. No part of him moved. When he opened his mouth to speak he looked almost like a puppet.
“Tapkow,” said the voice.
Benny waited.
“You were much impressed with my former associate, Tapkow… Well? Answer me.”
“You didn’t ask anything.”
Pendleton twitched his shoulder. He put one white hand on the edge of the desk and began to stroke the smooth wood with the movement of a pendulum. “You seem to favor the point of view that a loud voice denotes authority. Have you ever heard me shout, Tapkow?”
“No.”
Pendleton’s hand kept moving back and forth. “There are other methods that ensure discipline. I have other methods.” Pendleton parted his lips and moved the tip of his tongue from right to left. “And you, Tapkow-”
“Listen,” Benny said. His voice sounded rough with impatience. “Now listen to me, Mr. Pendleton.”
The white hand stopped moving back and forth.
“The more you say, Tapkow, the worse it gets.” Then he almost smiled. “What do you think is the worst thing I can do to you, Tapkow? Do you remember a few years ago, a man called Murdock? Did you ever wonder what happened to Murdock? He’s still alive, you know.”
Pendleton paused to give things weight, but he hadn’t been watching Benny. He hadn’t seen the stubbornness and the angry impatience.
“The hell with Murdock,” Benny said. His breath sounded tight “The hell with Murdock and all this talk. You haven’t given me a chance to say a word, Mr. Pendleton. So here it is.” His voice suddenly turned quiet. “I’ve worked for you for seven years. I’ve tried to do better than the next guy because I know something they don’t. I am better. You think so, or you wouldn’t have let me stick around. I’ve done your crumby jobs, I’ve done some big ones. And then I’ve done some extra jobs you didn’t ask for, because all I ever wanted was a chance to show I’ve got the stuff. And then you started putting on the brakes. ‘Tapkow, take my pants to the cleaner,’ while I should have been working at Imports. ‘Tapkow, bring my car around,’ when Turk could have done it just as well.” Benny started talking faster now. “Finally I got a territory, a run-down, no-good territory, where Paddy used to rob you blind. I took that and glad for the chance. I start collecting double in my district and handed the stuff in. I needn’t have. So look at it that way for a minute, Mr. Pendleton, and then see if you’re doing right. I’m not trying to tell you what to do, but you’ve got to remember I’m not the chauffeur around here any more. I’ve done better than that.”
He had it all thought out and it came off the way he’d wanted. He meant every word of it. Only Pendleton didn’t know that.
“Are you through?” Pendleton sat as before.
“Sure. That’s all.”
On top of the desk the white hand started to move back and forth again. “Then let me tell you about Murdock.”
Benny sucked his breath
in and held it for a moment. When he let it out his voice was still quiet. More quiet than before. “You’re making a mistake.”
Suddenly Pendleton jumped up. He didn’t often look the way he did now. “Are you threatening me, Tapkow?”
“You’re making a mistake, Pendleton.”
There was a little button on the side of Pendleton’s desk and the white hand started to move there.
Then the hand stopped. Pendleton turned his head. There had been the sharp click of a doorknob and a girl came into the room. She didn’t bother to close the door. She said, “I’m happy to see you’re in,” in a metallic voice, clear and hard. “I’m really thrilled and happy to find you in, Daddy.”
There was a mean line between her eyebrows and her light eyes looked flat. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me how I am, Daddy?” When she said Daddy, it sounded like a word from a meaningless language.
Pendleton had a time trying to control himself. His face was working and there was the merest quaver in his voice. “Patricia,” he said.
“Patricia,” she aped. She ran her hand through her cropped hair with a gesture like a man’s. “Your little Patricia. Come to have a word with her daddy.”
She had been ignoring Benny. She hardly gave him a look when she said, “Give me a cigarette, Tapkow.”
“My dear-” Pendleton said.
“I know. You don’t approve. A light, Tapkow.”
Benny lit her cigarette and watched the smooth face over the flame. Only her jaw made a sharp shadow. When she exhaled she didn’t say thanks. She turned back to her father and took another drag on the cigarette. She had an impatient way of smoking, an impatient way of standing with her arm on her hip and tapping one foot. Benny couldn’t see her feet because of the long evening dress she wore, but he could hear the nervous clicking of the shoe.
“Well,” she said, “it happened again. Your little Patricia, because she’s your little Patricia and her last name is Pendleton, walked right into it again. What do you say to that, Daddy?”
“My dear, if you will wait outside for-”
She laughed, a clear and ugly laugh. “Wait outside. That’s just about what happened half an hour ago. Wait outside! Do you know where I was tonight, Daddy?”
“Patricia, please!” Pendleton sounded controlled. “Have the courtesy to wait till-”
“Never mind about Tapkow, Daddy, just mind what I’m telling you.” She pulled on her cigarette once moreand threw it on the floor. “I was at the Wellbeys’ tonight The Wellbeys.’. That wonderful family with a house on Long Island, a cottage in Bar Harbor, and a wee place in Florida. And all told they haven’t got half the money that little Patty’s daddy has. And what do you think happened, Daddy?” She leaned across the desk, hate in her voice. “‘Did you say Pendleton?’ Mr. Wellbey said when Betty introduced me to her father. ‘Did you say Pendleton?’ And then he excused himself, and his wife excused herself, and everybody that came within arm’s reach excused himself except the butler, who came up with my wrap and told me the car was waiting to take me back. What would you and your gangster friends call that, Daddy? The freeze is the word, isn’t it? The freeze!” Her voice rose sharply.
Pendleton turned to Benny and waved at the door. “Wait outside, Tapkow. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
“Leave Tapkow be. There’s nothing I know about my daddy that Tapkow doesn’t know, or the Wellbeys, or the District Attorney, or-”
“Tapkow, leave this room!” Pendleton’s voice had that sharp ring, the way Patricia had sounded.
“Do him a favor, Tapkow, and wait outside.” She sounded offhand, hardly looking at him.
Benny left. He waited in the black-and-gold room, because he and Pendleton weren’t through yet. There were a few more things he wanted to say; perhaps he could even patch things up. It was worth the chance. He could hear Patricia’s voice, clear and angry, and then silence, because Pendleton never raised his voice enough so that he could hear.
Turk was leaning against the hall door with his hands in his pockets. Pendleton wasn’t through yet, either.
When the library door opened and Patricia came out, Benny jumped up. She was walking fast. Her evening dress made a dry sound and she dragged her cape as if it were a towel. “Your turn, Tapkow,” she said.
There was nothing soft about that girl. Her thin body was probably hard as iron and the cold face looked as regular and impersonal as a fashion ad.
When Benny got to the desk in the library, he noticed that Turk was right behind him.
“You don’t need Turk here,” Benny said. “I want to talk business to you.”
Pendleton rubbed his hands together. “Before you opened your mouth, Tapkow, I was going to give you another chance. I was going to-”
But he didn’t get any further. Benny saw the way it was, that Pendleton had made up his mind, that he was through, and that the old bastard was standing there ready for another one of his speeches before hauling out the ax.
“Another chance!” The excitement came through in Benny’s voice now. “Another chance! Like what? Like dusting off the desk for you, maybe? Like drawing the drapes, maybe, so the rug won’t fade?” Benny could feel Turk close behind him now. “You think you’re looking at Tapkow the handy boy? I’m going to show you just how handy-”
Then Pendleton nodded his head.
Turk had been close, too close. Benny made a half turn that ended when his elbow rammed into the stomach of the man behind and then his stiff fingers shot into the neck right under the chin. Turk’s eyes went crazy and the gun he was holding made a thud on the floor. Then Turk fell over.
Before Pendleton had moved, Benny was at the door. He tore it open. That’s when he almost fell. Pat was there, and her cold face looked startled when he put his arm around her waist to steady himself.
That was the second time she’d got in his way, but this time it helped. Pendleton was by the gun on the floor when Benny swung the girl around and Pendleton stopped where he was. His hand hadn’t even touched the gun yet.
“You idiot, you impertinent idiot!” Pat twisted around, stumbling, and her small hard fist caught Benny on the shoulder.
He held on. He dragged her through the black-and-gold room, under the columns, into the entrance hall. “You bastard!” she was yelling.
There was a junction box on the wall, hidden discreetly under the two-legged table with the mirror. The table went, then the box. Another kick and the wires tore. That took care of the phones. While the elevator doors opened, Benny held tight and watched Pendleton, who stood in the library door without moving. Then the elevator doors closed and Benny let go of the girl. He’d been right. She had felt hard and muscled, and when she swung around her balled hand caught him on the side of the head. “You bastard,” she said, but that was all she did. She turned away as if she had lost interest, and Benny couldn’t see her face.
She was wearing different clothes now. Her sweater had pulled up under her small breasts and the jacket she wore had come half off. She straightened her clothes as the elevator went down slowly, as in a bad dream.
They looked at each other and Benny felt uncomfortable under her cold, disinterested stare.
“Didn’t mean to drag you,” he said. “Sorry.”
“That’s what you got clipped for,” she said. She turned to look at the floor numbers blinking slowly over the elevator door.
“Turk got rough,” he added.
She just shrugged. He couldn’t see her face, but he had the feeling she didn’t give a damn for any explanations one way or the other.
Benny stood by the floor buttons and listened to the creeping hum when she talked again. “You needn’t worry,” she said. “I was going out anyway.”
She had meant it. When they got out at the basement garage she walked to one of the cars while Benny was running for the door. He was at the end of the alley when he heard the car squeal into the turn toward the street.
Chapter Four
Pat Pendle
ton took Fifth Avenue south and then cut left into a maze of bleary streets that angled down to the East River. She stopped the car by a row of brownstones and entered one of the houses.
On the first floor a door was open to let the smoke drift out. People were singing Italian songs and a girl in a wedding dress stood in a crowd of people who were clapping their hands while the girl swung a wine bottle over her head. On the second floor the apartment doors were closed. A boy in a leather jacket was saying good night to a short girl in bobby socks and they were leaning against the wall by one of the closed doors. There was nobody on the third floor. Four empty bottles stood by one of the doors, and that’s where Pat stopped.
She knocked and a frowzy woman opened the door. She was wearing an apron, and the warm smell of stew came into the hall as she held the door open.
“Hi,” the woman said, and she stepped aside.
Pat went in and sat down at the kitchen table. “Anybody in?” she asked.
“A few.” The woman stood by the stove, turning the gas down. There was only the sound of the stew bubbling inside the pot.
“Is Harvey in?”
“No. Not for a while now.”
Pat shrugged and pulled her gloves off. They looked expensive and strange lying on the chipped tabletop.
“Coffee?” the woman asked.
“Sure. Black.”
The woman brought a cup from the stove and put it in front of Pat. Then she went back to the stove and pulled on a chain that hung down from a high ceiling vent. There were no windows in the kitchen.
“Harvey isn’t here?” Pat said.
“Haven’t seen him for months,” the woman said. She put a cigarette in her mouth and sat down at the table. “What you want him for, anyways?” When she talked she let the cigarette dangle, wobbling up and down.
“I don’t want him,” Pat said. “I was just asking.”
“He was riding the horse bad last I saw him. Out of his head most of the time.” The woman scratched where her corset ended. “They took him in, maybe.”
