The Bind

by Stanley Ellin

  “Always to wonder, never to know.”

  “All right, if you want to be funny about it, I’ll call the cops myself.” She stood up unsteadily and made her way into the bedroom.

  Jake followed, and when she sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone on the night table, he shook his head at her. “Don’t do it, baby. Now or any time. Don’t even let the thought enter your mind.”

  “But why?” she demanded fiercely. “Mrs. Thoren knows who you are now, so what difference does it make if they know?”

  “Put that phone down.”

  She hesitated, then unwillingly obeyed. Jake sat down beside her and clasped her hand in his, fingers interlaced. He said: “Listen to me. I get my cut of that insurance money when I personally turn over to Maniscalco a release signed by Mrs. Thoren. That’s my contract with him. I don’t get a dime if the police move in on this and dig up enough so that they change the official report on Thoren’s death from accident to suicide, because then Maniscalco won’t need a release any more. It’s as simple as that.”

  “No, it isn’t. Because if you’ve done all the work—”

  “Maniscalco’s not paying me for my work, he’s paying me for that release. And nothing would make him happier than to see this thing settled by the police, with me left out in the cold. Hell, he’s a company hero if I pull it off for a fifty percent cut and save Guaranty a hundred thousand. Picture the kind of hero he’d be if he could save them the whole two hundred thousand.”

  Elinor said slowly and emphatically: “I don’t care about him. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.” She dug her nails into his palm. “Look at me. The last time I threw up I was about ten years old, and I ate too much junk in the movies. Now I’m like doing it all the time on account of you. On account of your crazy job saving money for a rotten insurance company. I always thought when somebody fell bang in love the trip was all guitars and rosebuds. So just look at me.”

  “I’m looking,” Jake said. “Well, what do you want to do about it? Do you want to go back to New York right now?”

  Her hand suddenly went limp in his. “Didn’t you tell me that could be dangerous for my kid?”

  “I have a summer place out on Long Island. I think it could be handled so you and your mother and the kid move in there without anybody knowing about it until this is all over. And with the whole three thousand that’s coming to you.”

  “Is that where you’ll go after you’re done here?” Elinor said. She was watching his face closely. “I mean, if I’m staying out there, should I kind of expect you to show up after a while?”

  “To keep the three of you company? I’m afraid not.”

  “Suppose they went back to the city, and it was me alone?”

  “Hell, that’s a long way off, sweetheart. We’ve got plenty of time to hash it out.”

  “Jake, it’s not a long way off. Maybe I shouldn’t even tell you this, but what scared me almost as much as all that shooting was the way you walked in on me before, so happy about figuring out what that dog-track ticket meant. About the way the job was getting done. All of a sudden I could see the curtain start to come down, and for the big finish we’re saying good-bye to each other at Kennedy. But it shouldn’t be that way. Not for us. And all I’m asking you to do is say so.”

  “Baby, sometimes you are too simple to believe. Don’t you know how easy it would be for me to look you straight in the eye and say it and not mean a word of it.”

  “I don’t care. Say it anyhow.”

  He stood up. “What I’ll say anyhow is that there’s no racing here Sundays. If I don’t get over to that track damn soon, I’ll have to wait till Monday to take a look at it.”

  Elinor said stubbornly: “Then at least tell me one thing. Would you feel sorry if I did go back to New York right now? Honest to God sorry?”

  “Oh, for chrissake, you’re still being simple about it.”

  “Jake, please answer yes or no.” With her eyes glistening too brightly, she looked ready to burst into tears. “Wouldn’t you feel rotten if I went away? Don’t you want me to be here with you?”

  He stood there gnawing his lip in indecision. “Yes,” he said at last.

  She sniffled a few times, a sort of hiccupping sniffle, then wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “So all I have to do,” she said, “is just learn to keep my stomach under control.”

  42

  They bolted a stand-up supper of cold leftovers and beer, and even with her mouth full she managed to make it clear that there had to be one small change of plan. Daytime was different, but hell or high water she was not going to sit alone at night waiting for him in any house full of fresh bullet holes. If Magnes called and didn’t get an answer, he’d just keep calling until he did. So what difference could it make if she went along to the track too?

  In the end, she was with Jake when he went out to the car and discovered that both its front tires had gone flat. And each tire, he saw on close investigation with a flashlight, bore the mark of the blade that had been driven into its whitewall.

  He stood up and dusted his knees. “Looks like somebody keeps trying to tell us something, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s how it looks,” Elinor said in a strained voice, then quickly assured him: “It’s all right. You can see I’m not letting it get to me.”

  “That’s my girl.” Jake prodded a deflated tire with his toe. “I’m one spare short, but there’s no use calling the garage now, if I want to get to the track before it shuts up. We’ll take a cab.”

  He phoned for one, giving the dispatcher Milt Webb’s name and address, then waiting with Elinor on the curb at the foot of Webb’s driveway. In the cab, he had her sit low when they crossed the bridge to the Beach and tried to keep his own head out of sight. He got a glimpse of the green Chevy parked near the corner of North Bay Road. As far as he could make out when he risked looking back through the rear window a few blocks later, it was not following the cab.

  The Miami Beach dog track was located at the very foot of the island, bordering the ocean. It looked from the outside as coldly utilitarian and downright ugly as an old-fashioned factory, and its enclosed stand, cheerless as a public garage, littered with torn-up betting tickets, crumpled newspapers, and refuse from the refreshment counters, wasn’t much better.

  A mixed crowd filled it. Elderly whites, the kind of seedy, worn-out people who made up much of the South Beach neighborhood around here, a sizable number of Negroes, more than Jake had seen gathered together any place since landing at Miami International, and a sprinkling of Latins, most of them youthful. The prevailing mood, by and large, seemed to be glum.

  One whole side of the grandstand was sections of seats with a view of the track through ceiling-high windows. Jake drifted in that direction, and Elinor, thrusting her arm through his, said: “Man, this is like a funeral. You mean these people are supposed to be having fun?”

  “Well, everyone to his own misery, but I’ll have to admit it’s a lot grimmer than the horse tracks I’ve been supporting. Maybe it’s got something to do with dogs looking so sad to start with. And this sure as hell feels like poor people’s country.”

  “What are we supposed to be looking for in it?”

  “Section D, Row P, seat nine. But not so anybody would know we’re looking for it.”

  He found Section D at the head of the stretch near the entrance to the building where they had come in. Row P was its topmost row, separated from the floor of the stands by a waist-high iron railing behind it, and seat 9 was in the middle of it. That seat and the one next to it were the only empties in the row.

  Jake positioned himself at the railing not far from them, ostensibly studying through the window the tote boards on the track’s infield. One board listed the odds on every possible quiniella combination. The other, which listed mutuel odds, also had a timer on it which indicated that five minutes remained before the eleventh race. On the track, handlers in white yachting caps and green shirt
s were parading muzzled greyhounds in double file to some syrupy tune coming over the public address system.

  Elinor leaned close to him and said in an undertone: “You think Dobbs and Gela are using those seats? That they’re around here somewhere?”

  “Dobbs might be. Not Gela. He’d never keep company with Dobbs in public.”

  “So what’ll you do? Just wait?”

  “I’ll wait. And meanwhile try to work out an interesting problem you brought up.”

  “Me?” said Elinor. She sounded rather pleased with the idea.

  “You. Remember you asked why they’d use a public place like this to pick up the money?”

  “Uh-huh. And you told me Thoren would have killed Dobbs if he could, so the safest thing was to pick up the money right in the middle of a crowd.”

  “And I still say it. I’m sure Dobbs was stuck with all the dirty work, like mailing the tickets and picking up the money, while Gela was the silent partner. But look at the way this place is lit up everywhere like Broadway at show time. And Dobbs is supposed to be a standout physically. Very tall and skinny. After he took the money and walked away, it would be a cinch to follow him and knock him off sooner or later.”

  “And not get caught?” Elinor said.

  “And not get caught. If I was in Thoren’s shoes, I could have done it a dozen times over in all those years he was being bled. Right outside on the street where there’s not much light or in the parking lot across the way where it’s really dark. Or tailed him around town until I got him alone somewhere. Do you mean to tell me that in all those years Thoren never once found the chance to do that? Suicide was his only out?”

  “Well, I suppose when he had the chance he didn’t have the nerve to go through with it.”

  “Which is what I’ve been thinking,” Jake said. “The only trouble being that it doesn’t sound like Walter Thoren.”

  Elinor said tartly: “So now you—” Suddenly she turned on a rapturous, wholly inane smile, and said through it: “Jake, don’t look around. That man over there in back of you is the one works for the Thorens.”

  “Raymond? Did he see us?”

  “He must have. He’s talking to somebody, but he’s staring right this way.”

  “The one he’s talking to. Is it a tall, skinny white man?”

  “Just the opposite. Black and beautiful. And she is not a man, that’s for sure. Jake, do you think he’s mixed up in this?”

  Jake put his arm around her waist and turned her in the direction of the track. He pointed at the tote boards. “Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, what you do now is look at those boards out there and pick something to bet on. The sellers’ windows are across the floor. I’ll wait here for you while you buy the ticket.”

  “Buy what ticket? I don’t even know what it means on that board. That quiniella-odds bit. And right now I’d just as soon not—”

  Jake cut in sharply: “Will you stop being so goddam thick-headed? You’re supposed to be an actress, aren’t you? Well, start acting. And a quiniella’s when you try to pick the first two dogs across the line. There’s eight dogs running, so go over to one of those windows and give the man any pair of different numbers from one to eight. And this money.”

  He was handing her the two dollars when the deep, almost theatrical baritone behind him said: “Evening, Mr. Dekker. Mrs. Dekker. Didn’t know you went in for the dogs.”

  Jake turned. In contrast to the largely dour, casually clad throng around them, Raymond was impeccably clad in jacket and tie and wore the expression of someone well content with the way things have been going for him. Jake said: “Why, hello, Raymond. No, this is our first time. Mrs. Dekker thought she’d like to try her luck,” and Elinor instantly followed by making a long face and saying dolefully, “Only I’m not having any, Mr. Beaudry. I hope you’re doing better than I am.”

  “I can’t complain, Mrs. Dekker. You betting quiniellas or mutuels?”

  “Quiniellas.”

  Raymond said with fatherly kindness: “Well, now, I put my money only on the nose, regular style. You try it my way and see what happens.”

  Jake prodded Elinor hard in the spine with his thumb. “And you’d better get your next bet down now, dear. That clock says the windows close in a couple of minutes.”

  He watched her move off across the floor. Others watched too, some lowering their programs to focus on her as she passed, and Raymond said disdainfully: “No manners at all. See a nice young lady go by and look at her popeyed that way.” He cocked his head at Jake. “You don’t mind my saying it, Mr. Dekker, the clubhouse section is where you ought to take Mrs. Dekker. The Terrace Lounge.” The voice was warmly solicitous. “You try it next time. Good food and drinks while you watch the action. And the right kind of people.”

  Jake said: “Now, that’s what I call a strong recommendation. Or could it be more than a recommendation?”

  Raymond looked politely inquiring. “Beg pardon?”

  “I was asking whether you were advising me to use the clubhouse after this, or strongly advising me not to use the grandstand. Like the difference between the positive approach and the negative, if you know what I mean.”

  Raymond knit his brow. “I’m afraid not, Mr. Dekker. Seems to me like six of one, half a dozen of the other.”

  Jake looked him over, then amiably said: “I guess it is at that. And judging from the dinner last night, you know your food and drink. I’m only sorry Mrs. Thoren wasn’t able to enjoy it with us. By the way, did she get in touch with the family today? Let them hear how she’s feeling? Mrs. Dekker and I have been a little worried about her.”

  Raymond’s face went completely expressionless. “That’s nice of you, Mr. Dekker. No, she didn’t call. If she does, I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

  “I’ll be glad to tell her myself. Mrs. Dekker’s been thinking she’d like to send a card or a little gift, but we don’t have the address. If you knew it offhand—”

  “Sorry, but I don’t, Mr. Dekker.” There was no note of regret in the voice. There was a veiled contempt in it.

  Jake took out his billfold. With deliberation he partly extracted a ten-dollar bill from it, then replaced the ten and drew out a twenty. He folded the bill in half lengthways and slipped it between his fingers in conspicuous view. “It’s too late to put anything down on this race,” he said, “but it would be worth something to get a good tip on the next. Or on any kind of winner you can think of, dogs or otherwise.”

  The veiled eyes briefly took in the offering. Then Raymond dug into his hip pocket and brought out an immense roll of bills. He opened it, and with the same deliberation Jake had exercised, he peeled two twenties from it. He held them out. “Now that is a coincidence, Mr. Dekker. Enough to make you wonder. Here I was, just getting ready to ask you the same thing.”

  A bell rang, and the stand was suddenly plunged into darkness, although the track itself remained brilliantly lit by floodlights. Handlers ran from the starting boxes into which they had just placed the dogs and scattered to posts along the inside rail. Raymond said softly in Jake’s ear: “You bet on the rabbit, Mr. Dekker. You never lose that way,” and Jake was aware that he was gone.

  “There goes Rusty!” bellowed a voice over the loudspeakers, the toy rabbit on its rod skittered past the boxes, and the dogs hurled themselves after it in a maniac burst of speed. Jake leaned over the railing and looked along Row P. Outlined against the glare of floodlights were two forms occupying the hitherto empty seats, and one of them looked to be tall and skinny. There was a rising sound of urgent, pleading voices around him, an explosive yell, and the lights went on again inside the stand. The couple occupying those seats were women. Housewife types. The tall, skinny one wore curlers in her graying hair.

  Jake turned, trying to catch sight of Elinor in the crowd. Then he saw her pushing her way toward him. Finally in the clear, she came up to him in a rush. “Jake, are you all right?”

  “Sure.” He pointed at the betting ticket clutch
ed in her hand. “A winner?”

  “No. Where’s Raymond?”

  “He took off when the lights went out. What did you think when they went out? Did you catch on?”

  “I caught on to a couple of things.” Her tone was resentful. “Like, you wanted me to go make a bet so I wouldn’t be around you in case anything hairy got going. Isn’t that so?”

  “Maybe it is, but I’m talking about those lights.”

  “I know. I thought of it right away when they went out. I even thought how it must have been fixed for Thoren to sit in the last row. Soon as it went dark, Dobbs just leaned over that railing and took the money. Then he had time to go get lost before the lights went on again.”

  “Especially,” Jake pointed out, “if Thoren’s planted in the middle of the row where he can’t get out easily himself. And Dobbs most likely passed the money to Gela right there and got his cut later on. I’m taking for granted Gela had brains enough to always stay in the background. I doubt Thoren even knew Dobbs had any partner.”

  Elinor said: “So it was just the two of them. For sure, Raymond didn’t have anything to do with it, did he?”

  “Not for that sure. He is a much smarter cat than he’d like The Man to believe. And he’s carting around a roll of bills that would sink him if he fell into deep water.”

  “So what?” Elinor said defensively. “Other people carry a lot of money on them too, don’t they?”

  “Other people?”

  “You know what I mean. White people. I bet you wouldn’t be so suspicious of them just because they had a lot of money in their pocket.”

  “Sweetheart, if you’re accusing me of judging Raymond too harshly because he’s colored, forget it. He could be king of the honkies, and I’d still wonder why he came over for a friendly chat when I know damn well he’s not that fond of me. Besides, you’re the one who made a big thing of mistrusting him when you saw him looking our way. Now, all of a sudden—”

  “Because I had an insight. As soon as you started talking to him, I knew I was wrong to make a big thing of it. I was like demonstrating very deep-rooted prejudice. Only I didn’t realize it until I heard how you sounded.”