He heard Herman saying, “I’m talking to you, Freddy.”
“I hear you,” he said.
“You sure?” Herman asked softly. “You sure you hear me?”
Freddy looked at Herman. He said quietly, “I’m on your payroll. I do what you tell me to do. I’ve done every job exactly the way you wanted it done. Can I do any more than that?”
“Yes,” Herman said. His tone was matter-of-fact. He glanced at Ziggy and said, “From here on it’s a private discussion. Me and Freddy. Take a walk.”
Ziggy’s mouth opened just a little. He didn’t seem to understand the command. He’d always been included in all the business conferences, and now the look in his eyes was a mixture of puzzlement and injury.
Herman smiled at Ziggy. He pointed to the door. Ziggy bit hard on his lip and moved toward the door and opened it and walked out of the room.
For some moments it was quiet in the room and Freddy had a feeling it was too quiet. He sensed that Herman Charn was aiming something at him, something that had nothing to do with the ordinary run of business.
There was the creaking sound of leather as Herman leaned back in the desk chair. He folded his big soft fingers across his big soft belly and said, “Sit down, Freddy. Sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
Freddy pulled a chair toward the desk. He sat down. He looked at the face of Herman and for just a moment the face became a wall that moved toward him. He winced; his insides quivered. It was a strange sensation, he’d never had it before and he couldn’t understand it. But then the moment was gone and he sat there relaxed, his features expressionless, as he waited for Herman to speak.
Herman said, “Want a drink?”
Freddy shook his head.
“Smoke?” Herman lifted the lid of an enamel cigarette box.
“I got my own,” Freddy murmured. He reached into his pocket and took out the flat silver case.
“Smoke one of mine,” Herman said. He paused to signify it wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order. And then, as though Freddy were a guest, rather than an employee, “These smokes are special-made. Come from Egypt. Cost a dime apiece.”
Freddy took one. Herman flicked a table-lighter, applied the flame to Freddy’s cigarette, lit one for himself, took a slow, soft drag, and let the smoke come out of his nose. Herman waited until all of the smoke was out and then said, “You didn’t like what I did to Ziggy.”
It was a flat statement that didn’t ask for an answer. Freddy sipped at the cigarette, not looking at Herman.
“You didn’t like it,” Herman persisted softly. “You never like it when I let Ziggy know who’s boss.”
Freddy shrugged. “That’s between you and Ziggy.”
“No,” Herman said. And he spoke very slowly, with a pause between each word. “It isn’t that way at all. I don’t do it for Ziggy’s benefit. He already knows who’s top man around here.”
Freddy didn’t say anything. But he almost winced. And again his insides quivered.
Herman leaned forward. “Do you know who the top man is?”
“You,” Freddy said.
Herman smiled. “Thanks, Freddy. Thanks for saying it.” Then the smile vanished and Herman’s eyes were hammerheads. “But I’m not sure you mean it.”
Freddy took another sip from the Egyptian cigarette. It was strongly flavored tobacco but somehow he wasn’t getting any taste from it.
Herman kept leaning forward. “I gotta be sure, Freddy,” he said. “You been working for me more than a year. And just like you said, you do all the jobs exactly the way I want them done. You plan them perfect, it’s always clean and neat from start to finish. I don’t mind saying you’re one of the best. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cooler head. You’re as cool as they come, an icicle on wheels.”
“That’s plenty cool,” Freddy murmured.
“It sure is,” Herman said. He let the pause drift in again. Then, his lips scarcely moving, “Maybe it’s too cool.”
Freddy looked at the hammerhead eyes. He wondered what showed in his own eyes. He wondered what thoughts were burning under the cool surface of his own brain.
He heard Herman saying, “I’ve done a lot of thinking about you. A lot more than you’d ever imagine. You’re a puzzler, and one thing I always like to do is play stud poker with a puzzler.”
Freddy smiled dimly. “Want to play stud poker?”
“We’re playing it now. Without cards.” Herman gazed down at the desktop. His right hand was on the desktop and he flicked his wrist as though he was turning over the hole card. His voice was very soft as he said, “I want you to break it up with Pearl.”
Freddy heard himself saying, “All right, Herman.”
It was as though Freddy hadn’t spoken. Herman said, “I’m waiting, Freddy.”
“Waiting for what?” He told the dim smile to stay on his lips. It stayed there. He murmured, “You tell me to give her up and I say all right. What more do you want me to say.”
“I want you to ask me why. Don’t you want to know why?”
Freddy didn’t reply. He still wore the dim smile and he was gazing past Herman’s head.
“Come on, Freddy. I’m waiting to see your hole card.”
Freddy remained quiet.
“All right,” Herman said. “I’ll keep on showing you mine. I go for Pearl. I went for her the first time I laid eyes on her. That same night I took her home with me and she stayed over. She did what I wanted her to do but it didn’t mean a thing to her, it was just like turning a trick. I thought it wouldn’t bother me, once I have them in bed I can put them out of my mind. But this thing with Pearl, it’s different. I’ve had her on my mind and it gets worse all the time and now it’s gotten to the point where I have to do something about it. First thing I gotta do is clear the road.”
“It’s cleared,” Freddy said. “I’ll tell her tonight I’m not seeing her anymore.”
“Just like that?” And Herman snapped his fingers.
“Yes,” Freddy said. His fingers made the same sound. “Just like that.”
Herman leaned back in the soft leather chair. He looked at the face of Freddy Lamb as though he was trying to solve a cryptogram. Finally he shook his head slowly, and then he gave a heavy sigh and he said, “All right, Freddy. That’s all for now.”
Freddy stood up. He started toward the door. Halfway across the room he stopped and turned and said, “You promised me a bonus for the Donofrio job.”
“This is Monday,” Herman said. “I hand out the pay on Friday.”
“You said I’d be paid right off.”
“Did I?” Herman smiled softly.
“Yes,” Freddy said. “You said the deal on Donofrio was something special and the customer was paying fifteen hundred. You told me there was five hundred in it for me and I’d get the bonus the same night I did the job.”
Herman opened a desk drawer and took out a thick roll of bills.
“Can I have it in tens and twenties?” Freddy asked.
Herman lifted his eyebrows. “Why the small change?”
“I’m an elevator man,” Freddy said. “The bank would wonder what I was doing with fifties.”
“You’re right,” Herman said. He counted off the five hundred in tens and twenties, and handed the money to Freddy. He leaned back in the chair and watched Freddy folding the bills and pocketing them and walking out of the room. When the door was closed Herman said aloud to himself, “Don’t try to figure him out, he’s all ice and no soul, strictly a professional.”
~ * ~
The white-gold watch showed eleven thirty-five. Freddy sat at a table watching the floorshow and drinking from a tall glass of gin and ginger ale. The Yellow Cat was crowded now and Freddy wore the dark glasses and his table was in a darkly shadowed section of the room. He sat there with Ziggy and some other men who worked for Herman. There was Dino, who did his jobs at long range and always used a rifle. There was Shikey, six foot six and weighing three hundred pounds, an expert at
bone cracking, gouging, and the removing of teeth. There was Riley, another bone-cracker and strangling specialist.
A tall, pretty boy stood in front of the orchestra, clutching the mike as though it was the only support he had in the world. He sang with an ache in his voice, begging someone to “— please understand.” The audience liked it and he sang it again. Then two colored lap-dancers came out and worked themselves into a sweat and were gasping for breath as they finished the act. The MC walked on and motioned the orchestra to quiet down and grinned at ringside faces as he said, “Ready for dessert?”
“Yeah,” a man shouted from ringside. “Let’s have the dessert.”
“All right,” the MC said. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called offstage, “Bring it out, we’re all starved for that sweetmeat.”
The orchestra went into medium tempo, the lights changing from glaring yellow to a soft violet. And then they came out, seven girls wearing horn-rimmed glasses and ultraconservative costumes. They walked primly, and all together they resembled the stiff-necked females in a cartoon lampooning the WCTU. It got a big laugh from the audience, and there was some appreciative applause. The young ladies formed a line and slowly waved black parasols as they sang, “— Father, oh father, come home with me now.” But then it became, “—Daddy, oh daddy, come home with me now.” And as they emphasized the daddy angle, they broke up the line and discarded the parasols and took off their ankle-length dark blue coats. Then, their fingers loosening the buttons of dark blue dresses, they moved separately toward the ringside tables. The patrons in the back stood up to get a better look and in the balcony the lenses of seven lamps were focused on seven young women getting undressed.
Dino, who had a footwear fetish, said loudly, “I’ll pay forty for a high-heeled shoe.”
One of the girls took off her shoe and flung it toward Freddy’s table. Shikey caught it and handed it to Dino. A waiter came over and Dino handed him four tens and he took the money to the girl. Riley looked puzzledly at Dino and said, “Whatcha gonna do with a high-heeled shoe?” And Shikey said, “He boils ‘em and eats em.” But Ziggy had another theory. “He bangs the heel against his head,” Ziggy said. “That’s the way he gets his kicks.” Dino sat there gazing lovingly at the shoe in his hand while his other hand caressed the kidskin surface. Then gradually his eyes closed and he murmured, “This is nice, this is so nice.”
Riley was watching Dino and saying, “I don’t get it.”
Ziggy shrugged philosophically. “Some things,” he said, “just can’t be understood.”
“You’re so right.” It was Freddy talking. He didn’t know his lips were making sounds. He was looking across the tables at Pearl. She sat with some ringsiders and already she’d taken off considerable clothing; she was half-naked. On her face there was a detached look and her hands moved mechanically as she unbuttoned the buttons and unzipped the zippers. There were three men sitting with her and their eyes feasted on her, they had their mouths open in a sort of mingled fascination and worship. At nearby tables the other strippers were performing but they weren’t getting undivided attention. Most of the men were watching Pearl. One of them offered a hundred dollars for her stocking. She took off the stocking and let it dangle from her fingers. In a semiwhisper she asked if there were any higher bids. Freddy told himself that she wasn’t happy doing what she was doing. Again he could hear her plaintive voice as she asked him to take her for a walk in the park. Suddenly, he knew that he’d like that very much. He wanted to see the sun shining on her hair, instead of the nightclub lights. He heard himself saying aloud, “Five hundred.”
He didn’t shout it, but at the ringside tables they all heard it, and for a moment there was stunned silence. At his own table the silence was very thick. He could feel the pressure of it, and the moment seemed to have substance, something on the order of iron wheels going around and around, making no sound and getting nowhere.
Some things just can’t be understood, he thought. He was taking the tens and twenties from his jacket pocket. The five hundred seemed to prove the truth of Ziggy’s vague philosophy. Freddy got up from his chair and moved toward an empty table behind some potted ferns adjacent to the orchestra stand. He sat down and placed green money on a yellow tablecloth. He wasn’t looking at Pearl as she approached the table. From ringside an awed voice was saying, “For one silk stocking she gets half a grand —”
She seated herself at the table. He shoved the money toward her. He said, “There’s your cash. Let’s have the stocking.”
“This a gag?” she asked quietly. Her eyes were somewhat sullen. There was some laughter from the table where Ziggy and some of the others were seated; they now had the notion it was some sort of joke.
Freddy said, “Take off the stocking.”
She looked at the pile of tens and twenties. She said, “Whatcha want the stocking for?”
“Souvenir,” he said.
It was the tone of his voice that did it. Her face paled. She started to shake her head very slowly, as though she couldn’t believe him.
“Yes,” he said, with just the trace of a sigh. “It’s all over, Pearl. It’s the end of the line.”
She went on shaking her head. She couldn’t talk.
He said, “I’ll hang the stocking in my bedroom.”
She was biting her lip. “It’s a long time till Christmas.”
“For some people it’s never Christmas.”
“Freddy—” She leaned toward him. “What’s it all about? Why’re you doing this?”
He shrugged. He didn’t say anything.
Her eyes were getting wet. “You won’t even give me a reason?”
All he gave her was a cool smile. Then his head was turned and he saw the faces at Ziggy’s table and then he focused on the face of the large man who stood behind the table. He saw the iron in the eyes of Herman Charn. He told himself he was doing what Herman had told him to do. And just then he felt the quiver in his insides. It was mostly in the spine, as though his spine was gradually turning to jelly.
He spoke to himself without a sound. He said, No, it isn’t that, it can’t be that.
Pearl was saying, “All right, Freddy, if that’s the way it is.”
He nodded very slowly.
Pearl bent over and took the stocking off her leg. She placed the stocking on the table. She picked up the five hundred, counted it off to make sure it was all there.
Then she stood up and said, “No charge, mister. I’d rather keep the memories.”
She put the tens and twenties on the tablecloth and walked away. Freddy glanced off to the side and saw a soft smile on the face of Herman Charn.
The floorshow had ended and Freddy was still sitting there at the table. There was a bottle of bourbon in front of him. It had been there for less than twenty minutes and already it was half empty. There was also a pitcher of ice water and the pitcher was full. He didn’t need a chaser because he couldn’t taste the whiskey. He was drinking the whiskey from the water glass.
A voice said, “Freddy —”
And then a hand tugged at his arm. He looked up and saw Ziggy sitting beside him.
He smiled at Ziggy. He motioned toward the bottle and shot glass and said, “Have a drink.”
Ziggy shrugged. “I might as well while I got the chance. At the rate you’re going, that bottle’ll soon be empty.”
“It’s very good bourbon,” Freddy said.
“Yeah?” Ziggy was pouring a glass for himself. He swished the liquor into his mouth. Then, looking closely at Freddy, “You don’t care whether it’s good or not. You’d be gulping it if it was shoe polish.”
Freddy was staring at the tablecloth. “Let’s go somewhere and drink some shoe polish.”
Ziggy tugged again at Freddy’s arm. He said, “Come out of it.”
“Come out of what?”
“The clouds,” Ziggy said. “You’re in the clouds.”
“It’s nice in the clouds,” Freddy said. “I’m up her
e having a dandy time. I’m floating.”
“Floating? You’re drowning.” Ziggy pulled urgently at his arm, to get Iris hand away from a water glass filled with whiskey. “You’re not a drinker, Freddy. What do you want to do, drink yourself into a hospital?”
Freddy grinned. He aimed the grin at nothing in particular. For some moments he sat there motionless. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and took out the silk stocking. He showed it to Ziggy and said, “Look what I got.”
The Best American Noir of the Century Page 20
