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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f57f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text +*.htm text +*.html text +*.png binary +*.jpg binary +*.svg text +*.pdf binary +*.bmp binary +*.zip binary +*.midi binary +*.mp3 binary diff --git a/79392-0.txt b/79392-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e744bac --- /dev/null +++ b/79392-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7817 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79392 *** + Transcriber’s Notes + + Basic misspelled words have been corrected, but local speech spelling + and grammar has been left unchanged. Changed words are identified + by a ♦ symbol in the text. The change description is shown + immediately below the paragraph in which the correction appears. + + Details and other notes may be found at the end of this text. + + + + +The first law of every being, is to preserve itself and live. You sow +hemlock, and expect to see ears of corn ripen. + _Macchiavelli_ + + + By W • R • BURNETT + + + LITTLE + CAESAR + + + THE LITERARY GUILD OF AMERICA + NEW YORK MCMXXIX + + + COPYRIGHT, 1929, BY DIAL PRESS, INC. + + MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + + + To MARJORIE + + +NOTE: The characters and events in this book are entirely imaginary. + + + + + PART I + + + I + +Sam Vettori sat staring down into Halsted Street. He was a big man, +fat as a hog, with a dark oily complexion, kinky black hair and a fat +aquiline face. In repose he had an air of lethargic good-nature, due +entirely to his bulk; for in reality he was sullen, bad-tempered and +cunning. From time to time he dragged out a huge gold watch and looked +at it with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. + +Near him at a round table sat Otero, called The Greek, Tony Passa, and +Sam Vettori’s lieutenant, Rico, playing stud for small stakes. Under +the green-shaded lamp Otero’s dark face looked livid and cavernous. +He sat immobile and said nothing, win or lose. Tony, robust and rosy, +scarcely twenty years old, watched each turn of the cards intently, +shouting with joy when his luck was good, cursing when it was bad, more +out of excitement than interest in the stakes. Rico sat with his hat +tilted over his eyes, his pale thin face slightly drawn, his fingers +tapping. Rico always played to win. + +Vettori, puffing, pulled himself to his feet and began to walk up and +down. + +“Where you suppose he is?” he asked the ceiling. “I told him eight +o’clock. It is half-past.” + +“Joe never knows what time it is,” said Tony. + +“Joe’s no good,” said Rico without taking his eyes off the cards, “he’s +soft.” + +“Well,” said Vettori, stopping to watch the game out of boredom, “maybe +so. But we can’t do without him, Rico. I tell you, Rico, he can go +anywhere. A front is what he’s got. Swell hotels? What does it mean to +that boy? He says to the clerk, I would like please a suite. A suite! +You see, Rico. We can’t do without him.” + +Rico tapped on the table, flushing slightly. + +“All right, Sam,” he said, “some day he’ll turn yellow. Hear what I +say. He’s not right. What’s all this dancing? A man don’t dance for +money.” + +Sam laughed. + +“Oh, Rico! You don’t know Joe.” + +Tony stared at Rico. + +“Rico,” he said, “Joe’s right. I know what I’m saying. All that dancing +is a front. He’s smart. Have they ever got him once?” + +Rico slammed down his cards. He hated Joe and he knew that Tony and +Vettori knew it. + +“All right,” he said, “hear what I say. He’ll turn yellow some day. A +man don’t take money for dancing.” + +“I win,” said Otero. + +Rico pushed the money toward him and got to his feet. + +“Well, if he don’t show up in ten minutes I’ll take the air,” said Rico. + +“You stay where you are,” said Vettori, his face hardening. + +Tony watched the two of them intently. Otero counted his money. One +day Vettori said to Rico, “Rico, you are getting too big for us.” Tony +remembered the look he had seen in Rico’s eyes. Lately they had all +been talking about it. Rico was getting too big for them. Scabby, the +informer, said: “Tony, mark what I say. It’s Rico or Sam. One or the +other.” + +“I’ll stay ten minutes,” said Rico. + +Vettori sat down by the window and stared into Halsted Street. + +“Two-fifty,” said Otero. + +“I’ll match you for it,” said Tony. + +“No,” said Otero. + +Joe Massara opened the door and came in. + +“Well,” said Vettori, “you call this eight o’clock?” + +Joe got out of a big ulster. He was in evening clothes. His black hair +was sleek and parted in the middle. He was vain of his resemblance to +the late Mr. Rudolph Valentino. + +“Sorry,” said Joe, “the bridge was up. Well, what’s the dirt?” + +“Draw up a chair,” said Vettori, “all of you.” + +They grouped themselves around the table under the green-shaded lamp. +Joe put his hands on the table so they could see his well-manicured +nails and the diamond ring the dancer, Olga Stassoff, had given him. + +“Now,” said Vettori, “I’ll do the talking. I know what I got to say and +you birds keep quiet till I’m through....” + +“How long will it take?” asked Joe, smiling. + +“Shut up and listen,” said Rico. + +“All right, all right,” said Vettori, patting them both, “no bad blood. +Now: ever hear of the Casa Alvarado?” + +“Sure,” said Joe, “it’s an up and up place. One of Francis Wood’s +joints. I nearly got an engagement there once.” + +Rico spread out his hands. + +“See? They know him. He won’t do.” + +“No, they never seen me. It was all done through an agent.” + +“All right,” said Vettori, “that’s the place.” + +Joe looked startled. Rico smiled and taking off his hat began to comb +his hair with a little ivory pocket comb. + +“It’d be tough,” said Joe, “what’s in it?” + +“Plenty,” said Vettori. “They only bank once or twice a week. They’re +careless, get that; because they’ve never been tapped. It’s easy.” + +Joe took out a gold cigarette case which he handled with ostentation. + +“Well? I’m listening.” + +Vettori refused a cigarette and pulled out a stogie. Downstairs a +jazzband began to play and a saxophone sent vibrations along the floor. + +“Nine o’clock,” said Otero. + +Vettori lit his stogie. + +“They got a safe,” he said, “that a baby could crack. Too easy to talk +about. But that’s on the side. What we’re after is the cashier. The +place is lousy with jack. I got the lowdown from Scabby. Well, what do +you say, Joe?” + +“Yeah,” Rico cut in, “take it or leave it. We ain’t begging you.” + +Vettori’s face hardened but he said nothing. + +“If you say it’s good,” said Joe, “it’s good with me.” + +“All right, all right,” said Vettori. “Now, you Tony; we want a big +car. Get that. A big, fast car. Get one when I tell you. Steve’s got +the plates all ready. Yeah?” + +“I’m on, Sam.” + +Tony pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a flourish, but his hands +shook a little. + +“Rico and Otero,” said Vettori, looking at each in turn, “will handle +the rods. Yeah?” + +Rico said nothing. But Otero smiled, showing his stained teeth, and +said: + +“That’s us, eh, Rico?” + +“Well,” Vettori went on, “I guess we got that over. Now, Joe, I want +you on the inside. Dress yourself up like you are, see, and fix it +so you’ll get there at midnight. All the whistles’ll be tooting and +everybody’ll be drunk and won’t know nothing. See? Now you get there +at midnight and go to the cigar counter for change. At twelve-five the +fun’ll begin. We’ll set our watches by telephone, because I don’t want +you here that night. All right. Rico and Otero come in quick, maybe +Tony, too, if you can get a good safe place to park. That’s up to Rico. +He’s bossing the job.” + +Rico looked at Joe. + +“Now, they’ll stick you up if everything’s O.K. If not, give them the +high sign and they’ll beat it. We ain’t taking no chances, because one +night don’t make much difference, only New Year’s Eve’s a good night, +see? All right. You play like you don’t know them, got it? But while +they’re working, you got your eyes open, see? And if something +happens, you got a rod, but don’t use it. We got to watch that.” + +Vettori shifted his stogie and shook his finger sideways at Rico. + +“That’s your trouble, Rico. The Big Boy can’t fix murder. He can fix +anything but murder. Get that. You’re too quick with the lead. If that +guy over at the pool room’d died we wouldn’t none of us be sitting here +right now....” + +Otero broke in vehemently, surprising them. + +“But he had to! He had to! Rico does what is right.” + +“All right,” said Vettori, “but take it easy. Now, Joe, you got +your hands up, but you watch. If nothing happens nobody knows the +difference. But if something does happen you pull the rod and help +the boys get out. All right. Here’s the dope. Get what’s in the cash +register first. Get that because that’s easy. If things go right, +tackle the safe; it’ll probably be open. Another thing: no frisking in +the lobby. That’s too dangerous and takes too long. Let the yaps keep +their money. All right.” + +Vettori took a map from his pocket and spread it out on the table. +The men crowded round him. + +“You go straight in,” said Vettori, marking the route with a pencil, +“on the right is the checkroom; watch the girls behind the counter, +Joe. On the left is the cigar-counter and the cashier’s desk. At the +end of the lobby is a big door; the real joint’s beyond that. If things +go right, nobody in the place’ll know it’s been stuck up, except maybe +some yaps in the lobby. Get the idea? With all them horns tooting and +all that damn noise, see? All right. On the right of the lobby is a +door and that goes into the manager’s office. The box is in there. The +manager’s a goddam bohunk and there ain’t an ounce of fight in him. +See? Scabby give me the lowdown.” + +Vettori rolled up his map, put it in his pocket, then looked at his +watch. + +“Well,” he said, “got it all?” + +Joe turned his diamond ring round on his finger and looked at the table. + +“What’s the word, Joe?” said Rico. + +“It’s a tough one, Rico. What’s the guarantee?” + +“Guarantee, hell!” cried Rico. “Why, a blind guy could do your stand.” + +“Well, I ain’t doing no time for fifty bucks,” said Joe. + +Vettori laughed. + +“I’ll give you a couple hundred now,” he said. + +Joe nodded. + +“All right. I’m in. Never mind the couple hundred.” + +They all got to their feet. Below them the jazzband was still playing +and the saxophone was still sending vibrations along the floor. + +“What’ll you have, boys,” said Vettori, “want some drinks sent up?” + +“Not me,” said Tony, “I’m going over and see my woman.” + +Otero clapped his hands. + +“He’s got a woman.” + +Rico hit Otero on the back. + +“The Greek’s got a woman too,” said Rico. + +Otero with his hands cupped made a series of curves in the air. Joe was +patronizing; Olga Stassoff, the dancer, was his woman. + +“A beauty is she, Otero?” + +“Si, señor.” + +“Well,” said Vettori, “want any drinks sent up?” + +“Sure,” said Joe, “send me up a snort. I guess Rico’ll take milk.” + +Rico didn’t drink. + +“All right about Rico,” said Vettori in a good humor, “he’s a smart +boy.” + +Tony went out followed by Vettori. + +“I think I go see my woman,” said Otero. + +Joe laughed. Rico said: + +“Goodbye, Otero. Give Seal Skin a rub for me.” + +When Otero had gone, Joe said: + +“Has old Seal Skin got The Greek hooked yet?” + +“Well,” said Rico, “he spends a lot of jack on her. She ain’t much to +look at and she’s pretty old, but what’s the difference?” + +Joe never could figure Rico out. Women didn’t seem to interest him. + +Rico went over to the window and stood looking out at the electric sign +on a level with his eyes. + + CLUB + + P + A + L + E + R + M + O + + DANCING + +Rico and Joe felt queer alone together. They were silent. Joe took out +his gold cigarette case and lit a cigarette. Snow began to fall past +the window. + +“Look,” said Rico, “it’s snowing.” + +“Yeah,” said Joe, looking up mechanically, “snowing hard.” + + + II + +Vettori was sitting in his little office on the main floor. On the +other side of the wall the jazzband was playing, but he paid no +attention. The noise of the jazzband was the same to him as the +ticking of a clock to an ordinary person. He felt very pleasant and +comfortable over his bottle of wine and his plate of spaghetti. Things +were right! + +He congratulated himself on his subordinates. Each man a specialist. +Yes, yes! That was the way to do. None of this hit or miss stuff for +Sam Vettori. Rico the best gunman in Little Italy; a swelled head, all +right, but he can be handled, and there you are! Otero so crazy about +Rico he “don’t know nothing.” Follow Rico any place; do anything Rico +tells him. And handy with a rod. Well, well. Not bad for a Mexican. As +a rule foreigners were not right with Sam Vettori, but in general he +had an open mind, and Otero was the goods. And look at Joe Massara, +there was a man for you! A swell Italian who could pass anywhere. One +winter in Florida, so they say, Joe passed himself off as a count and +hooked a rich widow for plenty. Yes, yes! That was Joe for you. As an +inside man you couldn’t beat him. And Tony! He could drive a car sixty +miles an hour straight up the Tribune Tower. Only one thing, sometimes +Tony was undependable. Used to be a choir boy at St. Dominick’s and +that stuff. But he had outgrown that, maybe; anyway he was dead scared +of Rico and that would shut his mouth. + +Vettori leaned back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and +unbuttoned his vest. Spaghetti and wine, what is better! + +The band stopped playing. Bat Carillo, the bouncer, put his head in the +door. + +“Couple of hard guys looking for trouble, boss,” he said. + +Vettori looked up. + +“Yeah? Know them?” + +“Never seen them before.” + +Vettori heaved himself to his feet and walked with Carillo to the +swinging doors which separated the back-rooms and kitchen from the club +proper. He pushed the door open about a foot and peered in. Carillo +pointed. + +Vettori laughed and closed the door. + +“Some of them dumb Irish,” he said; “let ’em alone unless they get bad +and start something, then bounce ’em.” + +“O.K., boss,” said Carillo. + +Waiters passed Vettori in the corridor, sweat dropping from their +faces, steam rising from the dishes on the slanted trays. Vettori +rubbed his hands. + +“Business is good. Well, well! We won’t none of us die in the poor +house.” + +When he got back to his office he found Scabby, the informer, waiting +for him. Scabby was dark and undersized with a heavy, sullen, blotched +face. Passing as a police informer, he was in reality a member of the +Vettori gang. He played a dangerous game as he informed on other gangs. +His life wasn’t worth a cent and he was jumpy and quick with a gun. + +“Well, well, Giovanni,” said Vettori, “what’s the news?” + +“Everything’s jake,” said Scabby, taking off his hat and revealing a +shining bald head. + +Vettori called a waiter. + +“Some spaghetti for this man here,” he said, “and a bottle of wine.” + +“That’s the ticket,” said Scabby without smiling; he never smiled; his +face was melancholy and lined, and sagged like a hound’s. “The boys on?” + +“All set,” said Vettori. “It looks easy.” + +Scabby nodded. + +“It ought to be. But no gunplay, get that, Sam. The Big Boy’d raise +hell if he knew what was up.” + +Vettori’s face hardened. + +“I heard that once, Scabby. That’s enough. This is too good to pass up.” + +“All right,” said Scabby, “I’ve had my say. But things ain’t what they +used to be, Sam. It’s getting dangerous. They’ve even got the Big Boy +scared. It’s the damn newspapers. They play that crime stuff off the +boards. Big headlines, see? That’s the trouble.” + +They sat silent. Vettori, absorbed, puffed on his stogie. Finally he +said: + +“Listen, Scabby, you ain’t heard nothing, see? I got to keep these boys +on their toes. Especially Joe. Don’t spill nothing about the Big Boy.” + +Scabby shook his head vigorously. Vettori took out his billfold and +handed Scabby a fifty. + +“That’s part of your split, Scabby. Keep your eyes open, that’s +all.” + +Scabby pocketed the money. The waiter came in bringing the spaghetti +and the wine. Carillo put his head in the door. + +“Reilly, the dick’s, up front.” + +Vettori nodded. + +“He’s O.K. If he sticks around, send him back in about half an hour.” + +“Sure,” said Scabby, “I’ll be out of here in less than that.” + + + III + +Otero lay looking out the window at the electric sign across the street. + + CLUB + + P + A + L + E + R + M + O + + DANCING + +Snow was falling past the windows. Otero lay smoking a big +twenty-five cent cigar and singing softly to himself. He always sang +when he was with Seal Skin. + +“Some snow,” said Otero. + +“Yeah, some snow,” said Seal Skin, who was sitting with her feet on the +window sill, smoking one of Otero’s cigars. + +“Heavy like cotton,” said Otero. + +“Yeah,” said Seal Skin. + +“Where I used to be it never snowed.” + +“Didn’t it?” + +“No, it never snowed.” + +Seal Skin blew out a cloud of smoke. + +“How come you ever left Mexico, Ramón?” + +“Well, I don’t know.” Otero scratched his head. “I just left.” + +“Was they after you?” + +“No, I just left.” + +Otero got up and put his arms around Seal Skin. + +“Some girl,” he said. + +Seal Skin gave him a push. + +“Wait’ll I finish this.” + +“Sure, sure,” said Otero, smiling and patting her on the shoulder. + +“Look,” said Seal Skin, “you’re a good guy, Ramón. But dumb. How come +you hang after Rico?” + +“Rico is a great man.” + +Seal Skin laughed out loud. + +“Yeah? Great, but careless. He’ll never die of old age.” + +Otero didn’t understand. + +“What you say?” + +“They’ll fill him full of lead. He’s too cocky.” + +Otero shook his head. + +“No, they’ll never get Rico.” + +“They get ’em all.” + +“No,” said Otero, “they’ll never get Rico. Once I say to him, ‘Look, +you must be careful.’ But he say, ‘Not me, they’ll never get Rico.’” + +Seal Skin opened the window and flung her cigar down into the street. A +gust of cold air rushed into the overheated room. + +“Listen,” she said, “that’s bunk. Rico’s no different from anybody +else. You stick with Rico long enough and you’ll have a swell funeral. +Why don’t you get into the beer racket? That’s safe.” + +“I go with Rico,” said Otero. “What do I care? I have no people. Once I +had a brother but they shot him.” + +“The cops?” + +“No, the rurales. He was with Villa.” + +“Who the hell’s Villa?” + +“Villa was a great man, like Rico.” + +Seal Skin got up and took a drink from a bottle on the bureau. Then she +said: + +“Let’s hit the hay, Ramón.” + +“Sure, sure,” said Otero. + + + IV + +It was nearly two o’clock when Tony left his woman. A lake wind was +blowing hard and the snow fell heavily past the street lights. Tony +muffled himself in his overcoat and pulled his cap low. He felt tired +and disgusted. + +At the corner near his home, he turned into Sicily Pete’s restaurant. +Three Italians were playing cards at a table in the back. Up front a +mechanical piano ground out The Rosary. + +“Hello, Tony, how’s the boy?” said Pete. + +“Not so good,” said Tony. + +“You ain’t looking any too good, Tony,” said Pete. + +Tony ran his hands over his face and stared at his image in the mirror +behind the counter. Pale; circles under his eyes. + +“Well, I guess I’ll live,” said Tony. + +Pete smacked the counter with both hands. + +“Love of God! Sure you’ll live. You be O.K. tomorrow morning. I know, +Tony, my boy. Don’t forget I was a young fellow once. I know. I know.” + +“Sure you know,” said Tony, sarcastic. + +“Sure I do. You think I don’t know about that little red head. Hot +stuff, Tony, my boy. Only don’t be a fool. Save some for tomorrow +night.” + +Pete laughed shaking all over and smacked the counter with his hands. + +“What the hell’s wrong with you, Pete?” cried one of the card players. + +“Never you mind. All right, Tony, what’ll you have?” + +Tony couldn’t decide. Pete went to wait on one of the card players. The +mechanical piano finished The Rosary on a discord. Tony went over +and put a nickel in the slot. + +“I got a combination to go and two Javas,” cried Pete. + +The mechanical piano began to play O Sole Mio. + +“I’ll take a combination,” said Tony, “and a cup of Java.” + +“O.K.,” said Pete; “I got two combinations, one to go and three on the +Java.” + +“How’s business, Pete?” asked Tony. + +“Oh, what you call so-so. Not good, not bad. I never get rich here.” + +“Why don’t you put in a line of bottled goods?” said Tony, smiling. + +Pete raised both hands over his head and brought them down hard on the +counter. + +“None of that for Sicily Pete. Oh no. Pete’s too smart for that. If the +bulls don’t get you, why, some of them gangsters do. I know. One say, +you buy from me; the other say, no, you buy from me. All the same. No +matter who you buy from, bango!” + +Pete brought Tony his combination and his coffee and stood at the +counter with him while he ate it. + +“Tony,” said Pete, putting his head on one side, “you know you look +like your old man. Other day when you was in here I say to the missus, +look, ain’t he just like his old man? Well, well. That is good. A boy +should look like his old man. That is a good sign.” + +“Knew the old man pretty well, didn’t you, Pete?” said Tony, finishing +his coffee. + +“Yes, pretty well. When he was a young fellow he was like you. Full of +pep and always after the girls. But I don’t know, your mama she got +hold of him, then he wasn’t like he used to be. He wasn’t like the same +fellow. Pretty soon he died.” + +Tony laughed. + +“Hard on the old lady, ain’t you?” + +“Love of God, no,” said Pete, an expression of acute misery on his +face, “you don’t get me, Tony. I mean he got to be a good fellow, like +me. Work, work, that’s all he knew. Well, work is a good thing. It +keeps you out of trouble, but I don’t know....” + +Pete wiped the sweat from his forehead and meditated. Tony flipped +him a fifty-cent piece. The mechanical piano stopped on a prolonged, +slurred discord. + +“Well, I guess I’ll hit for home,” said Tony, “so long, Pete.” + +“Good night, Tony,” said Pete, with one of his blandest smiles, “come +in again.” + +The wind struck Tony in the face as he left the restaurant. The streets +were white and silent. Tony walked home slowly, tired and disgusted. + +As he entered the flat he saw a dim light in the front room. He tried +to sneak into his bedroom, but his mother heard him. She rose from her +chair, a monstrous silhouette against the dim front room light. + +“A fine time for you to come in, Antonio,” she said. “Have you been out +again with them good-for-nothing loafers?” + +“Yes,” said Tony, in a bad temper. + +“So...!” said his mother, “you don’t even lie any more. Well, well! You +are doing fine. Pretty soon you won’t come home at all, you bum.” + +“You said a mouthful,” said Tony. + +“Sure, you won’t listen to your mother. Some day you’ll remember +what I told you. You loaf with crooks and bums long enough, you’ll see +what will happen.” + +“All right,” said Tony, going into his room and banging the door behind +him. + +His mother stood in the middle of the room for a minute, then she put +out the light and sat in the dark, crying. + + + V + +The little blonde check-girl helped Joe take off his big ulster, her +hand lingering on his arm. He handed her a quarter. + +“Don’t go on a bat with that two-bits,” he said. + +“No sir,” said the check-girl. + +She watched him walk across the long dance-floor, pick his way among +the crowded tables, bowing from time to time to one he had jostled, and +disappear through the employees’ door at the back. Then she put checks +on his coat and hat and hung them up. + +“God, what a hot-looking man,” she said; “I don’t see how that little +hunky got him.” + +Olga Stassoff was just putting the finishing touches to her +make-up. Joe came in softly and stood watching her. She began to sing. + +“If you’re singing for me,” said Joe, “you can stop any time.” + +Olga turned around. + +“Well, what are you doing here? Broke?” + +“Shut up,” said Joe. + +Then he turned and walked out of the room. Olga jumped to her feet and +ran after him. She caught him near the employees’ door. He pushed her +away. + +“Ain’t that a fine way to say hello to a guy!” he said. “Why, you must +think you got me roped and hog-tied.” + +“I was just kidding, Joe,” said Olga, “honest I didn’t mean it. I was +just kidding.” + +“Well, get this,” said Joe, “I’m goddam sick of that line. What do you +take me for? That goes big with some of your swell boy friends who’ve +got ugly wives and ain’t any too particular, but me! I don’t take that +kind of talk from nobody.” + +Olga put her arms around him, but he pushed her away. + +“Listen, Joe,” she said, “I got good news for you, so get out +of your fighting clothes and come to earth. Can’t you take a little +kidding?” + +Joe took out his gold cigarette case and selected a cigarette. He +always smoked the best, when Olga had plenty of money, and he usually +carried three or four different brands. With a flourish he put away his +case, then, very preoccupied, he placed the selected cigarette on the +back of his left hand and, with a slight tap of his right hand, flipped +it into his mouth. Olga laughed. + +“Now,” said Joe, “spill the good news.” + +DeVoss, the manager, came through the swinging doors. + +“Have you told him yet, Olga?” he asked. + +Joe gave the manager a most ingratiating smile. + +“What’s the big talk, Mr. DeVoss? Am I missing something?” + +“You sure are,” said DeVoss. “The Stranskys broke their contract and +I’m putting you on in their place.” + +Joe leapt into the air and executed a twinkle. Olga burst out laughing. + +“Well,” said Joe, “how much?” + +“One hundred to start, Joe, then we’ll see.” + +“Well,” said Joe, “I can’t buy no limousines with that, but I’ll take +it.” + +Joe and DeVoss shook hands. + +“Now,” said the manager, “there’s a girl out here who’s just dying to +dance with you, Joe.” + +Joe shook his head. + +“No, I don’t like that stuff. They always think they got to hand you +something. What the hell! I don’t want no dame handing me nothing.” + +Olga put her hand over her mouth. + +“Don’t worry about that, Joe,” said DeVoss, “she already asked me about +that and I told her you’d be insulted so she gave me a ten.” DeVoss +took a crumpled bill out of his pocket and handed it to Joe. “There, +now get this. She’s an up and up girl and she means lots of business to +this place. Her old man’s got a couple of million bucks and she’s the +real thing. All right, Joe?” + +“Sure, sure,” said Joe, “always willing to oblige.” + +DeVoss went through the swinging doors and stood waiting for Joe on the +other side. Olga took Joe by the arm. + +“Listen,” she said, “none of your funny business now. Just do your +stuff and leave it at that. I’m on to these society women. I know what +they want.” + +Joe leapt into the air and executed another twinkle. + +“Alley up!” he cried, “don’t you trust me, baby?” + +Olga put her hands on her hips and began to laugh. How could you be +sore at a guy like that? + + + VI + +Rico was standing in front of his mirror, combing his hair with a +little ivory pocket comb. Rico was vain of his hair. It was black and +lustrous, combed straight back from his low forehead and arranged in +three symmetrical waves. + +Rico was a simple man. He loved but three things: himself, his hair and +his gun. He took excellent care of all three. + + + + + PART II + + + I + +Hear me,” said Rico, his face twitching, “he’s turned yellow. He’s +turned yellow. What the hell you expect from a choir boy!” + +Otero said nothing but sat with his chair tipped back against the wall +smoking a cigarette, his eyes closed. Sam Vettori stood in the middle +of the room and stared at his watch. + +“Keep your shirt on, Rico,” said Vettori, “you’re on edge.” + +“Sure, Rico,” said Otero. + +Carillo came in without knocking. Vettori put away his watch. + +“Well!” + +“O.K., boss,” said Carillo, “Tony’s in the alley.” + +Vettori took out his watch again. + +“Rico, it’s eleven-thirty-five. What do you say?” + +“Let’s get going.” + +Otero got slowly to his feet, stamped out his cigarette, and, taking +the riot gun from the table in front of him, slipped it under his +overcoat. Rico examined his big automatic. + +Carillo went out, softly closing the door. Otero walked over and patted +Rico on the shoulder. + +“O.K. now, eh, Rico?” + +Rico smiled. Vettori’s face was covered with sweat and he pulled out a +big white silk handkerchief to mop it. + +“Rico,” he said, “from now on you boss the job. Only, get this: for the +love of God, no gunwork. That’s all. I ain’t ripe for the rope.” + +Rico said nothing. Otero shrugged. + +Vettori, still mopping his face, opened a window and a gust of cold air +rushed in. + +Rico took out his little ivory pocket comb and mechanically combed his +hair. Then he put on his hat and tilted it over his eyes. + +“Well,” he said to Otero, “let’s go.” + +Otero followed Rico out. Vettori called: + +“Make it clean, Rico. Make it clean.” + +They went down the back stairs. Carillo was waiting at the foot of the +stairs and held the alley door open for them. The alley way was dark +and Otero stumbled. + +“Caramba!” + +“Watch that gun,” said Rico. + +Tony was sitting at the wheel of a big, open Cadillac. He tossed his +cigarette away and said: + +“Well, here we are.” + +Rico said nothing, but got into the front seat with Tony. Otero got +into the back seat. Carillo stood looking at them for a moment, then +closed the door. Tony stepped on the starter. + +“All right,” said Rico, “let’s go, but take it easy. We got lots of +time.” + +They took it easy. Tony drove along as leisurely as though they were +going to a New Year’s party. Rico leaned back and smoked, watching all +the passing cars. Otero, who had removed the riot gun and had it on the +seat beside him, was sitting bolt upright, his hands on his knees. He +could never get used to riding in an automobile. Rico turned and saw +the gun. + +“Put that rod on the floor,” he said. + +Otero obeyed. + +It had got colder. The snow was no longer falling and a chilly wind was +blowing up in gusts from the lake. The streets were nearly deserted. +Over west a whistle began to blow, discordant and shrill. + +“Well,” said Tony, nodding in the direction of the whistle, “it won’t +be long now.” + +But Rico leaned over and hissed in his ear. + +“Police car!” + +A big Packard with a hooded machine-gun in the back seat passed them. +There were two plain-clothes men in the front and two in the back. + +“What’ll I do?” asked Tony. + +One of the men leaned out and stared back at them. + +“Jesus,” said Tony, “he’s looking at us.” + +“Keep your shirt on,” said Rico, putting his hand on Tony’s arm. + +Otero took a cigarette from his pack and rolled it between his palms. + +The police car slowed up. Rico’s fingers closed on Tony’s arm. + +“Here’s an alley,” said Rico, “duck!” + +Tony took the turn on two wheels, just missing a parked car. Otero was +thrown from one end of his seat to the other, losing his cigarette. +The Cadillac’s exhaust roared in the narrow alley way. There was +nothing but darkness ahead of them. + +“It’s a blind,” said Tony. + +“No,” said Rico, “I know this place like a book. Turn to your right at +the end.” + +Rico leaned out and stared back. Then he laughed. + +“Ain’t that like the damn dummies! Nothing in sight.” + +They came back to Michigan Boulevard by a wide detour. Here the wind +blew fiercely, raising little whirlwinds of snow. Now there were +whistles blowing in all parts of town. Rico looked at his wrist-watch. + +“Five of twelve. All right, Tony. Step on it.” + +“What time, Rico?” asked Otero. + +Rico told him. + +“Fine, fine,” said Otero, “eh, Rico?” + +Half a block down the street they saw the huge electric sign of the +Casa Alvarado. The street was deserted except for the parked cars. They +drove along slowly now. + +Rico leaned out. + +“That’s a break,” he said, pointing to a parking place where they +couldn’t be hemmed in. “Listen, Tony, this ain’t going to be no +cinch, so you better give us a lift.” + +Tony pretended to be preoccupied with parking. + +“Get me?” + +Tony was pale and his lips were twitching. + +“That ain’t my stand, Rico,” he said. + +Rico looked at him. Tony sat silent for a moment, then, pulling at the +vizer of his cap, said: + +“But you’re the boss, Rico.” + +“O.K.,” said Rico, smiling. “Now, Otero, get this. I go first. You +follow me with the big rod. I stick up the cashier. Tony swings the +sacks. Got it?” Rico took three small neatly-folded canvas sacks out of +his pocket and handed them to Tony. “Otero, you watch the door. If you +see anybody coming in, let ’em come in, then back ’em up against the +wall. If things go right, I’ll tap the box. Got it?” + +Rico looked at his watch. It was three minutes past twelve. + +“Let’s go,” he said. + +Otero got out lazily, hiding the riot gun under his coat. Rico got out, +followed by Tony. + +“Got your rod, Tony?” asked Rico. + +Tony nodded. + +“All right, keep it in your pocket. Maybe you won’t need it right away. +If anybody gets funny, why, pull it.” + +“O.K.,” said Tony, “but for God’s sake, Rico, no gun work.” + +Otero said: + +“You leave Rico alone. He does what is right.” + +Whistles were blowing all over town. They walked up the carpet which +was laid across the pavement under the canvas marquee. Inside there was +a blaze of lights and they could hear the music. The lobby was deserted +except for two check girls, one waiter, a cigar clerk, and the cashier, +a pale woman with a green eyeshade, who was perched on a stool. Joe +Massara, in a big ulster and a derby hat, was standing at the cigar +counter, kidding the clerk. He saw them out of the corner of his eye +and nodded twice. + +They came in quickly, Rico in front with his big automatic at ready, +Otero slightly behind him and to the left, carrying the sawed-off +shotgun hip-high, Tony in the rear, his hand in his overcoat pocket. + +Before Rico could say anything, Joe Massara faced them, put his back up +against the counter and raised his hands. + +“My God,” he cried, “it’s a hold-up.” + +One of the check girls screamed piercingly. The waiter’s knees buckled +and he almost fell. The others stood petrified. + +“You’re goddam right it’s a hold-up!” shouted Rico, trying to +intimidate them, “and it ain’t gonna be no picnic. Get that, all of you +birds. I got lead in this here rod and my finger’s itching. One crack +out of any of you and they’ll pat you with a spade. All right, Tony.” + +Tony, white as chalk, took the sacks out of his pocket and walked over +to the cashier’s desk. The cashier was standing behind the register, +hands raised. When Tony came up she said: + +“Take anything you want, only for God’s sake don’t touch me.” + +“O.K.,” said Tony, “clean out the box but don’t get funny.” + +Tony held the sacks while the cashier scooped the money into them. +Tony saw pack after pack of wrapped greenbacks drop into the sacks. He +began to feel a little better. + +Rico left the cashier to Tony, but looked at each of the others in +turn, his eyes, under his tilted hat, intimidating them as successfully +as the big Luger in his hand. Otero stood behind him and a little to +the left, impassive, the riot gun hip-high. + +The manager opened the door of his office and with a dazed look +hesitated for a moment, then, with a great sigh, put his back against +the wall and raised his hands. He was a Czech with a swarthy complexion +which gradually turned greenish. + +Rico glared at the manager. + +“Stay put, you!” he said. + +“All right, all right,” said the Czech. + +Joe Massara said: + +“Jesus, my arm’s paralyzed.” + +“Yeah,” shouted Rico, “well, don’t let it drop.” + +“All set,” cried Tony. + +Otero was busy at the door with a man in a top hat who had just come +in. The man couldn’t believe his eyes and kept muttering: + +“Good Lord! Good Lord!” + +Otero backed him against the wall. + +In the club proper, beyond the big arched doorways, the band was +playing loudly, horns were tooting, people were shouting. + +“All right,” said Rico, “get out your gat, Tony. I’ll tap the box +inside.” + +“God,” said Tony, “it’ll take too long.” + +Rico looked at him. Tony, holding the sacks in one arm, pulled out his +gun. Rico walked over to the manager. + +“Listen,” he said, “I want action. Go in and open that box and slip me +the jack. One funny move and I’ll blow your guts out.” + +“Oh, my God!” cried the Czech. + +They disappeared. There was a dead silence in the lobby. One of the +check girls began to cry. + +“Nice little hold-up,” said Joe. + +Nobody said anything. + +“Yeah,” said Joe, nonchalant, “fine little hold-up.” + +He smiled at the waiter, who looked hastily away and turned +agonized eyes on Tony as if to say: “Look, I can’t help what that +bird’s saying.” + +Two more men came in the street door and were backed up against the +wall by Otero. The seconds seemed like hours to Tony, who was slowly +losing his nerve. + +The manager reappeared, followed by Rico, who had his gun pressed +against the manager’s back. Rico’s pockets bulged. + +“Good Lord,” hissed Tony, “let’s go.” + +Three men and two women came out into the lobby from the club proper. +They stopped, petrified. + +The strain was beginning to tell on Rico, whose face was ghastly. + +“Stick up your hands, you,” he cried, “and don’t move.” + +Two of the men and both of the women put up their hands, but the third +man, burly and red-faced, hesitated. + +“Good God,” said Joe, “it’s Courtney, the bull.” + +Joe’s mask of nonchalance slipped from him instantly; he dropped +his hands and reached for his gun. + +“Beat it,” cried Rico to Tony and Otero. + +They made a break for the door. One of the women with Courtney fainted +and fell hard, hitting her head. + +“Don’t touch her,” cried Rico, “my finger’s itching.” + +Joe followed the others, backing out with his gun in his hand. + +Courtney’s face was purple. He glanced at his wife, lying pale and +unconscious on the floor, then, shouting “you dirty bums” reached for +his gun. Rico fired. Courtney took two steps toward Rico, staring. Then +he fell heavily, his arms spread. + +At the door Rico collided with a drunken man, who was just entering. +The man tried to hug him, but he knocked him down with a blow of his +fist. + +Rico jumped on the running-board and bellowed: + +“Open her up, Tony. This ain’t no picnic.” + +Tony was unnerved and tears were dripping down onto his hands. Joe and +Otero sat silent in the back seat. Otero rolled a cigarette between +his palms. Nobody said anything. + +Tony took a corner, careening. The wind had died down a little and it +had begun to snow again, a thin, cold, powdery snow. The whistles were +still blowing, but fainter now, one leaving off, then another. + +“Well,” said Rico, “I plugged him.” + +“Yeah,” said Joe, “I seen him fall. Like a ton of bricks.” + +“Well,” said Otero, “what can you do? The fool, pulling a gat!” + +Tony said nothing, but sat with his eyes fixed. + +“It’s our hips for this,” said Joe. + +Otero shrugged and lit a cigarette. + +“Losing your guts, Joe?” asked Rico. + +“Me!” said Joe. + +Tony turned into the alley way back of The Palermo. Rico put the sacks +under his coat and jumped out. Otero and Joe followed him. + +“Tony,” said Rico, “ditch that can, then come back for your split. Hear +what I say. Ditch it good and proper. We’ll wait.” + +“Look,” said Joe, “I got to have my split now. I’m on at +one-twenty. Boy, I can’t miss that turn.” + +“O.K.,” said Rico. + +Tony drove off down the alley. Rico knocked at the door and Carillo let +them in. + + + II + +When they came in Vettori was standing in the middle of the room +mopping his forehead with his big white silk handkerchief. Beads of +sweat stood out all over his swarthy, fat face. + +Rico threw the sacks on the table and began to empty his pockets. + +“Well,” said Vettori. + +“There’s the dough,” said Rico, “looks like a good haul.” + +Joe sat down at the table under the green-shaded lamp without taking +off his hat or coat. Otero took the riot gun from under his coat and +locked it up in a cupboard. Vettori knew there was something the +matter. His eyes narrowed. + +“Well,” he said again. + +“Everything was O.K.,” said Rico, “only I had to plug a guy.” + +Vettori fell down into a chair and stared out the window. + +“Yeah,” said Joe, trying to smile, “and the guy was Courtney.” + +Vettori put his head on the back of his chair and stared at the +ceiling. Then he sat up suddenly and banged on the table with both +fists. + +“Goddam!” he cried, “what did I tell you, Rico! What did I tell you! +Love of God, didn’t I tell you no gunwork?” + +Rico was white with rage. + +“Listen, Sam, you think I’m gonna let a guy pull a gat on me. What the +hell! Any more of them cracks and this is my last job.” + +Vettori made an elaborate, tragic gesture. + +“Yeah, you bet this is your last job.” + +Joe took off his derby and put it beside him on the table. His face was +dead white. + +“You said it,” said Joe, “they’ll get us sure for this.” + +Vettori shook his big head slowly from side to side. + +“They’ll get us dead sure for this.” + +Rico began to comb his hair. + +“Maybe you better go over and give yourself up,” he said; then +dropping his sarcastic tone, “listen, how the hell they gonna get us? +Why, you’re the finest bunch of yellow bastards I ever seen.” + +“Not me,” said Otero. + +Joe tried to smile. + +“Wait till you see the papers.” + +Rico came over and leaned on the table. + +“Listen, don’t they always play that stuff up in the papers. Courtney’s +the only guy in the place that ever seen one of us before. Come on, +snap out of it. And split the dough.” + +But Vettori sat inert, mopping his face. Suddenly he asked: + +“Where’s Tony?” + +“He’s ditching the can,” said Rico. + +“Suppose they pick him up?” + +Rico began to open the sacks. + +“That’ll be just too bad,” said Joe. + +Rico laughed. + +“A fine bunch of yeggs!” + +Vettori got to his feet in a fury. + +“You, Rico! Shut your mouth. You think I want to hang because you +get yellow and shoot somebody.” + +Rico, very calm, put his hand in his pocket and said: + +“Sam, you get funny with me and you won’t get no split at all. Only a +horseshoe wreath.” + +“Oh, hell, Sam,” said Joe, “we’re all in it, ain’t we? Come on, split +the dough.” + +Vettori sat down. Otero stood a little behind him, watching. + +“Since you want it, Sam,” said Rico, his face pale and drawn, “you’re +gonna get it. Listen, you split even, that’s all. Hear me! You get an +even split.” + +Vettori said nothing. Joe sat rigid, ready to dive under the table. +For months Scabby had been predicting this break; now it had come. Joe +feared Vettori and Rico equally, but something told him that Rico would +win. + +Vettori let his hands fall on the table. + +“All right, Rico,” he said, “I split even. Sit down and we’ll divvy.” + +But Rico didn’t move. + +“You got a gun on you, Sam?” he asked. + +Vettori looked up at him. + +“Sure I got a gun on me.” + +“Well, don’t try to use it.” + +“No,” said Otero, “don’t try to use it.” + +Vettori’s face went slack. He sat tapping on the table with his fat +fingers. + +“Rico,” he said, finally, “I split even on the square.” + +Rico’s victory was complete. Joe looked at him with admiration. Sam was +a tough bird, but Rico was tougher. + +Vettori got up, walked across the room and stood looking out the window. + + + III + +Joe handed Rico a sheet of paper full of figures. Rico read: 9331.75. + +“All right,” said Rico, “split it five ways and we’ll make up Scabby’s +split between us.” + +Otero sat with his chair tipped back against the wall, smoking a +cigarette with his eyes closed. Vettori was playing solitaire and +swearing softly to himself. + +Joe looked at his watch. + +“Quarter till. I got to beat it. Say, Sam, call Carillo and let him get +me a cab, will you?” + +Sam heaved himself to his feet and called Carillo. In a moment the +bouncer put his flattened face in the door. + +“Three dicks downstairs, boss?” + +“Who are they?” asked Vettori. + +“Flaherty and two guys I don’t know, boss. They want to see you.” + +Vettori stood looking at the floor. Carillo jumped in and shut the door. + +“Christ,” he said, “they’re coming up.” + +Rico leapt to his feet, ran across the room and opened a panel in the +wall. + +“Come on, Joe,” he said, “you can slip out the back way. Stay where +you are, Otero, and go right on smoking. Send Joe’s cab around in the +alley, Bat.” + +Vettori looked at Rico. + +“You suppose they know something, Rico?” + +“Not unless they picked Tony up. You don’t know nothing, Sam, see? +I’ll be right here listening, and if there’s any trouble, why, it’ll be +tough on the dicks.” + +Vettori scooped up the money, wrapped his coat around it, and handed +it to Rico. Joe went through the panel, followed by Rico. There was a +knock at the door. + +Vettori nodded and Carillo opened the door. Two plain-clothes men +stepped in and stood looking around the room. One was tall and burly in +a huge ulster; the other was short and very young. They both had their +right hands in their overcoat pockets. + +“All right, Carillo,” said Vettori, “go ahead. That’s all.” + +“Wait a minute,” said the burly one, “tell Flaherty we’ll be down in a +couple of minutes, for him to wait.” + +“Sure, sure,” said Carillo. + +He went out closing the door softly. + +“Well,” said Vettori, “you want to see me?” + +“Yeah,” said the burly one, who did all the talking, “we want to see +you, Vettori.” + +“Well, here I am!” + +Otero opened his eyes long enough to look at them, then closed them +again and went on smoking. + +“Vettori,” said the detective, “we want some information.” + +“Well?” + +Vettori sat down at the table and began to shuffle the cards. + +“There’s a big Cadillac draped around a pole a couple of blocks down +the street and we just wondered if you knew anything about it.” + +Vettori began to lay out a game of solitaire. + +“How should I know anything about it? Ain’t it got no license plates on +it?” + +“Sure, but they’re phoney.” + +“Yeah?” + +“Yeah. It was stolen about eight o’clock tonight on the North Side and +we got a pretty good description of the guy that stole it.” + +“Well,” said Vettori, “I got a good business. What the hell’d I be +doing stealing automobiles.” + +He laughed and shook his head. + +“Oh, you got me wrong,” said the detective with elaborate innocence. +“You see, it’s piled up right straight down the street from here +and I thought maybe it was some of the guys from your joint, see? I +mean some of the young guys that come here to dance.” + +“Well,” said Vettori, “how would I know?” + +The detective took out a cigar and began to chew on it. + +“Wasn’t there nobody in it?” asked Otero. + +“Yeah,” said the detective, “one guy. But he beat it.” + +“I don’t know nothing about it,” said Vettori. + +“Well, no harm in asking,” said the detective. “Come on, Mike, let’s +get going. I guess Vettori don’t know nothing about it.” + +The two of them walked slowly to the door. The big one turned. + +“Say, Vettori,” he said, “did you hear the news?” + +Vettori looked up. + +“What news?” + +“Why, some bastard bumped Cap Courtney off over at the Casa Alvarado.” + +“Yeah?” said Vettori, “some guys are sure careless with the lead. +That’s a tough break.” + +The young detective opened the door and they started out. + +“Ain’t it?” said the big one. “Well, so long.” + +As soon as the door closed, Vettori went over and shot the bolt, then +peeped out through the shutter. Rico came out of his hiding place. + +“Well,” said Vettori, glancing at Rico, “things ain’t going so good.” + +Rico shrugged. + +“They don’t know nothing. Just feeling around. Listen, Sam, where’s +your guts? We got to stick together on this.” + +“I know,” said Vettori, falling back into his chair, “but I never seen +things break so tough.” Rico held out a roll of bills. + +“Here’s your split, Sam.” + +Vettori took the bills and stuffed them into his pocket. Rico handed +Otero his. Otero got up and put on his overcoat. + +“I think I go see my woman,” he said. + +When he had gone Rico went over and sat down beside Vettori. + +“Listen, Sam,” he said, “I been taking orders too long. We’re done. +Get the idea? But we got to see this through. We get a break and +we’ll come clean. Only we got to shoot straight. See what I mean? I got +a rope around my neck right now and they can only hang you once. If +anybody gets yellow and squeals, my gun’s gonna speak its piece.” + +“That’s O.K. with me,” said Sam. + +They sat silent. Down stairs the jazzband was playing and the saxophone +was sending vibrations along the floor. Vettori laid out another game +of solitaire. + +“Funny for Tony to crash,” he said. + +“He lost his nerve,” said Rico. + +“You suppose he’ll show?” + +“Not till tomorrow if he’s got any sense. I’ll leave his split with +you.” + + + IV + +Rico went over to see Ma Magdalena, the fence. Her fruit store was +still open and her son Arrigo was sitting half-asleep beside a pile of +oranges. + +“Hello,” he said. + +“Where’s Ma?” asked Rico. + +Arrigo pulled a cord which rang a bell in the rooms beyond the store. +Ma, leaning on her stick, came out into the store. Seeing Rico, she +said: + +“Oh, it’s you! Well, well! Come back. Come back.” + +“Can I come too, Ma?” said Arrigo. + +“You stay and mind the store, you lazy loafer,” said Ma, shaking her +stick at him. + +Arrigo sat down once more by the pile of oranges. + +Rico followed Ma Magdalena back into her little office. She pulled up a +chair for him and he sat down, then she got out a bottle. + +“You talk, I drink,” she said, sitting down beside him and pouring +herself a drink. + +Rico took out his split, peeled off a few bills and handed her the rest. + +“Plant it,” he said. + +She took the roll, counted it, and put it down inside her dress. + +“Had a big New Year’s Eve, did you?” + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “plenty big. There’ll be lots of fun tomorrow.” + +“Well, well,” said Ma, “that’s the way it goes.” + +She poured herself another glass of wine, then she reached over and +touched Rico with her stick. + +“Look, Rico, you ain’t got a nice little girl who wants a big diamond +ring, have you?” + +“Me, buy a diamond ring for a skirt?” + +Ma Magdalena made a clucking noise and shook her head. + +“You are cold, Rico. Don’t like wine. Don’t like women. You are no +good, Rico.” + +Rico smiled. + +“Me, I like women once in a while, but I ain’t putting out no diamond +rings.” + +Leaving Ma Magdalena’s Rico went in the direction of Sicily Pete’s. The +wind was blowing hard and Rico, turning up his overcoat collar, leaned +against it. It was after three o’clock and the streets were empty. +Southward the lights of the Loop made a reddish glow in the sky. + +At Sicily Pete’s the mechanical piano was playing. Three men, all +Italians, and two girls, both Americans, were sitting at a front table. +They were drunk. They played with their food, spilled their coffee, +and banged on the plates with their knives. Pete stood behind the +counter, scowling. + +When Rico came in he said: + +“Hello, my friend, where have you been keeping yourself?” + +“I haven’t been around lately. Got some noisy birds, ain’t you?” + +Pete shrugged his shoulders. + +“Yes, the fools. They drink gin. That is no drink for an Italian.” + +Rico took out his cigarettes and offered Pete one. They stood smoking. +One of the girls pulled up her dress and fixed her garter. Rico smiled. + +“Get an eyeful of that, Pete.” + +“Yes, yes,” said Pete, “that’s all I get, an eyeful. Every night I +stand here while other people have a good time.” + +The girl looked up at Rico and he winked at her. She said to one of the +men: + +“Look at that smarty over there. He thinks he’s cute.” + +The man looked foggily at Rico. Pete put his hand on Rico’s arm. + +“My friend, don’t start no trouble, please. That’s all we have +around here, trouble. With one thing and another, I think I go back to +Italy.” + +Rico turned his back on the girl. + +“O.K.,” he said. + +While Pete was getting Rico a cup of coffee, a newsboy came in: + +“EXTRA! EXTRA! All about the big hold-up.” + +Rico bought a paper and glanced at the three inch headlines. + + THUGS KILL CAPTAIN COURTNEY IN CASA ALVARADO HOLD-UP + +Rico showed Pete the paper. + +“Another killing,” he said. + +“Yes,” said Pete, “kill, kill, that’s all they do. I wish to God I was +back in Sicily. The Mafia, what is that? That is a kindergarten.” + +One of the Italians bought a paper and started to read the account of +the hold-up aloud. All the people round the table stopped eating to +listen. Rico sipped his coffee and watched them. + + + V + +Tony hadn’t slept all night. He lay in the cold dark room, sweating. +The covers felt heavy as lead and from time to time he tossed them +off, only to pull them over him again as the lake wind, streaming in +the window, made him shiver. At intervals he would fall into a doze. +Then he would see a windy street, feel a car skidding under him, feel a +sickening jolt. He would wake with a start and sit up in bed. + +“They’ll get us for this,” he kept repeating, “they’ll get us sure.” + +Unable to control his imagination, he saw the high forbidding walls +of the State Prison, the tiny death cells with their heavily-grated +windows; then in the prison yard, the gallows. He remembered what Rico +had said about Red Gus, on the night of his execution: “Well, they’re +gonna put a necktie on Gus he won’t take off!” Yeah, they sure put a +necktie on Gus. + +Tony smoked cigarette after cigarette. In his despair he cast about for +someone to put the blame on. It was all Midge’s fault. Wasn’t she +always after him to make more jack so she could put on the dog? Hadn’t +he tried to go straight and drive a taxi and make an honest living? +Yeah, and hadn’t Sam Vettori and Rico offered him money to quit his +job and give them a lift on their stick-ups? Well, you couldn’t quit a +gang; once you were in, you were in! + +Tony sat up in bed and looked out across the roofs outside his window. +The sun was coming up and a cold, windy winter morning was dawning. Of +a sudden he began to feel sick at his stomach. He lay down, but that +didn’t help him, then he tossed from side to side. + +He heard his mother moving about in the next room. She was getting +dressed to go to work. An alarm-clock in a room across the court rang, +then there was some loud swearing, and a window was slammed. + +Tony had to vomit. He jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom. When +he came out his mother was lighting the stove. She acted as if she +didn’t see him. He went back to his room but stopped in the doorway. + +“Hello, mom,” he said. + +His mother paid no attention. + +“Say,” said Tony, “what’s the matter?” + +His mother turned and with her hands on her hips stared at him. + +“Go back to bed, you loafer,” she said, “I am sick of you. You are no +good on earth. Just like your father.” + +“Aw, mom,” said Tony. + +“Don’t try to salve me,” said Tony’s mother. “You go back to bed and +get sober. You think I don’t know nothing, don’t you? Just like your +father.” + +“I’m not drunk,” said Tony, “I’m sick.” + +His mother turned her back and went on with her cooking. Tony went into +his room, slammed the door, and got back into bed. A deadly depression +settled on him. The world looked black. + +He heard his mother go out, then he got up, dressed and made himself +some toast and coffee. Anyway, he wanted his split. + +On the way to Vettori’s he met Father McConagha. The priest was a big +man with a big, pale face. He walked with a rolling gait and there +was something arrogant about him. Tony took off his hat. + +“Good morning, Father.” + +“Good morning, Antonio,” said Father McConagha. “Where have you been, +my boy? I haven’t seen you for months.” + +“I been working,” said Tony. + +“What sort of work?” asked Father McConagha, putting his hand on Tony’s +shoulder. + +“I been driving a taxi.” + +The priest nodded his head slowly. + +“That is good work, Antonio.” + +Tony couldn’t look at Father McConagha and kept twisting his hat in his +hands and staring at it. Father McConagha talked to him for a minute or +two about the rewards of honesty and the happiness to be derived from +doing your work faithfully, then he said: + +“Antonio, one day your father asked me to look out for you. Your father +was a good man, but weak. Remember this, Antonio, if you are ever in +any trouble I am the one to come to.” + +Tony flushed and said: + +“Thank you, Father.” + +When Father McConagha had gone, Tony began to speculate. Did he +know anything? Why, on this very morning, had he said something about +being in trouble? Tony respected and admired Father McConagha. He felt +that he could always turn to him. + +Talking with the priest had made him feel stronger, but now that the +priest had gone all the hopelessness of the night before rushed back on +him. He took out a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands. + +“They’ll get us sure for this,” he said. + +Then once more he began to think about Red Gus and what Rico had said +about him. + + + VI + +Seal Skin couldn’t get Otero sober. She made him eat tomatoes and she +gave him a cold bath, but nothing seemed to do him any good. He walked +about the flat in his underclothes singing songs in bastard Spanish +and bragging about what a great, brave man he was. Only one man in the +world braver: Rico. + +Seal Skin was dead for sleep, but she didn’t shut her eyes for +fear Otero would do some crazy thing like shooting out the window at +the street light (he had done this one night) or going out in his +underclothes. + +Otero sat at the table with his automatic beside him, singing at the +top of his voice. + +“Look,” he cried, “I am Ramón Otero, a great, brave man. I ain’t afraid +of nobody or nothing. I can drink any man in the world under the table +and I can outshoot any man that walks on two legs. Only Rico; he is my +friend. He is a great man like Pancho Villa and I love him with a great +love. I would not shoot Rico if he shot me first. Rico is my friend and +I love him with a great love.” + +Then he got up and, snapping his fingers, began to dance, stamping with +his heels, wiggling his hips, till Seal Skin nearly fell out of her +chair laughing. + +Toward morning he went to sleep with his head on the table. Seal Skin +picked him up and carried him to bed (he weighed about a hundred and +fifteen pounds), then, too tired to take off her clothes, she +climbed in beside him. + + + VII + +Rico bought all the papers he could find and went up to his room to +read them. He sat at his table, his hat tilted over his eyes, with a +pair of scissors in his hand, cutting from the papers all the articles +dealing with the hold-up and the killing of Police Captain Courtney. He +arranged the clippings in a neat pile, then read them over and over. + +One said: + + ... the thug who shot Police Captain Courtney was a small, pale + foreigner, probably an Italian. He was dressed in a natty overcoat + and a light felt hat. + +Another: + + ... Courtney’s murderer was described by one eyewitness as a small, + unhealthy-looking foreigner.” + +Rico tore up this clipping. + +“Where do they get that unhealthy stuff!” he said. “I never been sick a +day in my life.” + + + + + PART III + + + I + +Sam Vettori’s heavy, dark face looked puffy and his eyes were swollen. +He hadn’t been sleeping well lately and he had been drinking whiskey. +As wine was his usual drink, the whiskey indicated a state of mind the +reverse of calm. He sat chewing a cold stogie and from time to time +pouring himself a shot from the bottle at his elbow. Rico was playing +solitaire, his hat tilted over his eyes. The Big Boy sat opposite +Vettori, his derby on the side of his head, and his huge fists, fists +which at one time had swung a pick in a section gang, lying before him +on the table. + +The Big Boy shook his head from side to side slowly. + +“Not a chance, Sam,” he said, “I can’t do nothing for you. Why, you +must be out of your mind. Listen, they’re after me hot and heavy. I +got all I can do to take care of number one, see? Things was running +too good for you, Sam. That’s your trouble. You thought I was +God himself. But listen, I ain’t no miracle man. A stick-up more or +less, what’s that? But when it comes to plugging a bull like Courtney, +that’s out! No, Sam. You’re on your own now. It ain’t gonna be none too +healthy for none of us for a while. Just don’t lose your nerve, that’s +the main thing. Just hang on and watch the guys that are in the know.” + +“You leave that to me,” said Rico without looking up. + +“O.K.,” said the Big Boy, “I think you’re the goods, Rico. But don’t +get nervous with that gat of yours, or they’ll put a necktie on you. +Get this. No more stick-ups. No more jobs. Just lay low, all of you. If +you run out of jack, I’ll stake you. Now I got to beat it. Don’t call +me up no more, Sam. Because I can’t do nothing for you and it might +give the bulls an idea.” + +The Big Boy got to his feet and stood leaning his huge hairy paws on +the table. + +“Why, you guys are lucky and don’t know it. Wood’s manager got so +goddam rattled he identified one of the plain-clothes men as the guy +that did the inside stand. Jesus, but it was rich! Spike Rieger was +boiling. Pretty soon he pinned the manager down and the damn dummy said +that the guys that did the job were Poles. So they went out and grabbed +Steve Gollancz. Steve and his bunch had just tapped a bank and Steve +thought they had the goods on him. It was funny as hell!” + +The Big Boy put his head back and brayed. Sam Vettori drummed on the +table irritably. + +“All right, laugh,” said Sam. + +“Sure, I’ll laugh,” said the Big Boy; “if you’d seen Steve’s face when +he found out what it was all about you’d split your pants laughing.” + +“Steve’s the goods,” said Rico. + +“You said a mouthful,” said the Big Boy, “he’s got them eating out of +his hand. Well, I’m gonna beat it. You guys lay low and it may blow +over. If things get hot, I’ll tip off Scabby and then you all better +hit the rods. So long.” + +The Big Boy went out slamming the door. They heard him go downstairs; +he walked as heavily as a squad of police and banged each step with his +heels. + +Rico went on with his game of solitaire. + +“Well,” said Vettori, “something just tells me we’re gonna get +ours.” + +“Oh, hell!” said Rico, pushing the cards away from him, “I’d like to +get the guy that invented that game.” + +Vettori swore softly to himself at Rico’s indifference, then, pouring +himself another drink, he said: + +“You think Joe’s safe, Rico.” + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “as long as they don’t nab him and put it to him. He +can’t stand the gaff.” + +“How about The Greek?” + +Rico laughed. + +“Safe as hell. Only thing with Otero, he gets lit and wants to raise +hell. I had to knock him down a couple of times last night. He gets a +little money and he goes nuts. That goddam greaser never saw over five +dollars all at once till I picked him up in Toledo. But he’s safe.” + +“How about Tony?” + +Rico didn’t say anything for a minute but picked up his cards and began +to shuffle them. + +“I don’t know about Tony.” + +Sam Vettori got up and walked back and forth, mopping his forehead +at intervals with his big white silk handkerchief. + +“Love of God, Rico, we can’t take no chances with him.” + +Rico dealt out a couple of poker hands and began to play an imaginary +game. + +“You leave that to me, Sam,” he said. + +Vettori put his hand on Rico’s shoulder. + +“That’s the talk, Rico. We get a break we may come clean.” + +Vettori dropped back into his chair and poured himself another drink, +but Rico reached across the table and pushed the glass off on the floor. + +“Slow down on that stuff, Sam. You got to keep your head clear.” + +Vettori looked at Rico in a fury, then he lowered his eyes. + +“You got the right dope, Rico. That stuff don’t do nobody no good.” + +Vettori took the whiskey bottle and locked it up in a cupboard. + + + II + +About nine o’clock Carillo put his head in the door. Downstairs the +jazzband had just started to play. + +“Well?” demanded Vettori, getting to his feet. + +“Blackie wants to see you,” said Carillo. + +“All right.” + +Carillo went out. + +“What you suppose he wants?” said Vettori. + +Rico, who was sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall +reading a magazine, shook his head without looking up or answering. +He was deep in the reading of a story about a rich society girl who +fell in love with a bootlegger. Rico read everything he could find +that had anything to do with society. He was fascinated by a stratum +of existence which seemed so remote and unreal to him. The men of +this level were “saps” and “softies” to him, but he envied them their +women. He had seen them getting out of limousines at the doors of Gold +Coast hotels. He had seen them, magnificently dressed, insolent, +inaccessible, walking up the carpets under the canvas marquees. The +doormen would bow. The women would disappear. Rico hated them. They +were so arrogant and self-sufficient, and they did not know that there +was such a person in the world as Rico. + +Blackie Avezzano, who managed Sam’s garage, came in and shut the door +behind him. He was small and bowlegged, and he was so dark that he had +been taken for a mulatto many times. + +Vettori impatiently exclaimed: + +“Well, what’s on your mind, Blackie?” + +Rico went on reading his magazine. Blackie sat down at the table and +seemed to be making an effort to collect his thoughts. + +“All right, spit it out,” said Vettori. + +Blackie couldn’t speak very good English, but as Rico didn’t know a +word of Italian and Vettori preferred to speak English, he did the best +he could. + +“Tony he took sick. Listen, I tell you, Tony he no know what. He took +sick. I see him, listen, I tell you, what-you-say, he no got his guts. +The Madre she send me call the doctore. Listen, he say, Tony, +what-you-say, you been a drink. Now listen, you cut out a drink. That’s +all. Tony he no drink. What a hell! One bottle of beer he can no drink. +He no got his guts, that’s all.” + +Vettori looked at Rico, who went on reading. + +“Rico,” he said. + +“I heard him,” said Rico, “I ain’t deaf.” + +Blackie got up and stood twisting his cap in his hand. Vettori took out +his billfold and handed Blackie a ten. + +“Blackie,” he said, “keep your eyes open, understand?” + +“All right,” said Blackie, “I watch, see, I know. Tony no good. All +right, I watch.” + +When he had gone Rico said: + +“Well, that’s that.” + +“We can’t take no chances,” said Vettori. + +“I’ll give him till tomorrow,” said Rico; “he can’t go far wrong with +Blackie watching him. After that if he don’t settle down, there won’t +be no more Tony.” + + + III + +Tony had always been of a rather easy-going nature and took things as +they came. His emotions, it is true, were very unstable; with him anger +was almost immediately followed by a grin, and depression lasted only +long enough for him to recognize that he had felt such an emotion. No, +he had never before experienced the loneliness which is the result +of continued despair. Now he felt it and it was too much for him. He +looked back on the past as a sort of fabulous period when he had had +peace of mind. + +He could enjoy nothing. The fear of arrest and hanging dogged him even +at the movies, formerly his chief pleasure, and in the company of +Midge, his woman, he was so preoccupied that she thought he had a new +woman and treated him accordingly. Even the presence of his mother, who +had begun to realize that something was wrong, did not tranquilize him. +He drank, played pool, rode about in an automobile, but fear pursued +him and he could find no rest. + +Then he began to have attacks of acute indigestion, and it got so +bad that the very sight of food was repugnant to him. He lost weight +rapidly. + +There was nothing he could do. He could not find one avenue of escape. +But little by little the thought of Father McConagha took possession of +him. Tony was too unintelligent to know that what he needed most of all +was someone he could unburden himself to. But he blundered toward that +solution. + +Blackie’s solicitude helped some. Blackie came to see him every night; +and once, when Tony’s indigestion had been worse than usual, he had +even gone for the doctor. + +Tony’s mother put her hand on his shoulder. + +“Antonio,” she said, “I think I’ll go over across the street and see +Mrs. Mangia. She is having a new baby. Only think! That will be twelve.” + +Tony tried to smile. + +“Twelve!” said Tony’s mother, shaking her head slowly from side to +side, “and one is too much.” + +“A bad egg like me is.” + +“You ain’t a bad egg, Antonio,” said his mother, “you are only +lazy.” + +Tony said nothing. + +“Listen, Antonio, I left some spaghetti on the stove. If you feel +better eat some. You don’t want to get all run down.” + +“All right,” said Tony. + +Tony’s mother went out. As soon as the door was shut, Tony wished +that she hadn’t gone. He was afraid. At the sound of footsteps in the +corridor, he felt his hair rise and beads of sweat stood out on his +forehead. He got to his feet and began to walk up and down. A fury +seized him; he cursed Rico and Vettori aloud. Then suddenly the anger +left him and the fear returned. + +Blackie put his head in the door. + +“How you feel, Tony?” he asked. + +“Hello, Blackie,” said Tony, “come on in and have a smoke.” + +Blackie took a cigarette from the preferred pack and sat down. While he +smoked he kept glancing at Tony. + +“Whatsa mat, Tony?” said Blackie. “You ain’t look so good.” + +Tony stared at Blackie for a moment, then he began to shake all +over. + +“Jesus, Blackie,” he cried, “I can’t stand it. They’ll get us sure. +Have you seen tonight’s paper?” + +Blackie shrugged. + +“I can no read.” + +“It’s all up with us,” said Tony. “My God, I don’t see how Rico stands +it.” + +“Rico no scared.” + +“Well, he ought to be. He’s the one that done it.” + +Blackie shrugged. + +“No can help. What-you-say, Cortenni pull a gat. No can help.” + +Tony got very pale of a sudden. He heard an automobile stop in the +street below. He ran to the window and looked down, then he turned and +came back. + +“I thought it was the cops,” he said. + +“Look,” said Blackie, “you no better be sick. Listen, you no got your +guts, Tony. Rico say, be a man. That is good. Be a man, Rico say. You +no better be sick.” + +“The hell with Rico,” said Tony. + +Blackie shrugged. + +Tony stood in the middle of the room for a minute or two looking at the +floor, then, suddenly making up his mind, he went over to the hatrack +and got his hat. + +“Where you go?” asked Blackie. + +Tony hesitated. + +“I go too,” said Blackie. + +“No, you go home,” said Tony, then looking steadily at Blackie he said: +“Me, I’m going down to St. Dominick’s and see Father McConagha.” + +“What,” cried Blackie, leaping up in alarm. “Tony, my God, you no tell +him nothing.” + +“I got to,” cried Tony vehemently. + +Blackie took hold of Tony’s arm. + +“Tony, my boy, don’t go. Listen, Tony, you no sick. Be a man. Hear what +I tell you. You no live, see, you no live. Be a man.” + +Tony pushed him away. + +“You go home, Blackie.” + +Tony went out. Blackie heard him walking slowly down the corridor. When +he could no longer hear his footsteps, he leapt to his feet, opened +a back window, went down the fire-escape, and took a short cut through +the alleys. He knocked at the back door of the Palermo and Carillo let +him in. + + + IV + +Vettori stared at Rico, who said nothing. + +“Crazy! Crazy!” said Blackie. “I tell him, be a man, be a man. But he +say, I got to, I got to.” + +Rico hastily put on his overcoat. + +“Well, I guess that’s it,” said Sam Vettori. + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “that’s it. Now get yourself a can, Sam, and let’s +go. We ain’t got any time to waste.” + +Vettori rubbed both hands over his face. + +“Not me,” he said. + +Rico looked at him. + +“Take Blackie,” said Vettori. + +Blackie implored them with his eyes. + +“Blackie’s no good,” said Rico. + +“No,” said Blackie, “I no good.” + +Carillo put his head in the door. + +“Reilley’s downstairs, boss.” + +“Take Carillo,” said Vettori. + +Carillo stared at them suspiciously. Rico leapt across the room and +grabbed him by the arm. + +“Listen, Bat, can you drive a can?” + +“Sure.” + +“Will you let her out when I office you?” + +“Sure.” + +“All right, let’s go.” + +“Take that black roadster, Carillo,” said Vettori, “but for God’s sake +don’t smash it up.” + +Carillo ran out leaving the door open. Rico walked over and closed the +door, then he said: + +“Sam, you ain’t got any more guts than Tony. Now listen, get down there +and talk turkey to Reilley. Get that! By God, I guess I got to boss +this job myself.” + +Vettori looked at Rico with hatred. But he said: + +“All right, Rico, you’re the boss now.” + +Rico went out. Blackie said: + +“Goodbye Tony!” + +Carillo was waiting with the black roadster in the alleyway. Rico +jumped in and the roadster leapt away. Carillo took a turn on two +wheels. + +“It’s a cinch he went the shortest cut,” said Rico. + +“Sure,” said Carillo, “I know what I’m doing.” + +“All right,” said Rico, “do it.” + +The wind had risen and it began to snow, big, heavy flakes which sailed +past the street lights. In a few minutes the ground was covered. + +Carillo took the shortest cut and Rico, holding his big automatic on +the seat beside him, sat straining his eyes. But there was no sign of +Tony. + +“If we miss him I’ll kick hell out of Blackie,” said Rico. + +“Keep your shirt on, boss,” said Carillo. + +The tall spires of St. Dominick’s rose before them at the end of the +block. The street was deserted. Carillo drove slowly now, hugging the +curb. In a moment he pointed: + +“There’s a guy.” + +Rico leaned forward. + +“Take it easy, Bat,” he said, “I think it’s Tony.” + +Carillo throttled down to five miles an hour. The man, a dim black +figure in the falling snow, stopped in front of the cathedral and +looked up. When the automobile came abreast of him he turned. + +“Tony,” called Rico. + +“Yeah?” came Tony’s voice. “Who is it?” + +Rico fired. A long spurt of flame shot out in the darkness. Rico +emptied his gun. Tony fell without a sound. + +“All right now, Bat,” said Rico, “let her out.” + + + V + +Joe and Olga were sitting in a quiet corner of a Gold Coast hotel +dining-room. They were waiting for their dessert. Joe, comfortably +full and inclined to be amiable, sat looking at Olga. She was the +goods. Of course he stepped out with other broads occasionally when +Olga was busy, but that didn’t count. Olga was the goods and she +was his woman. Other men didn’t rate with her, that’s all. He studied +her. There she sat with her round dark face, her high cheekbones, and +her dark mascara-ed eyes. Her long thin fingers covered with rings +fascinated him. Her slimness, her elegance made him feel very uncouth +and protective and masculine. + +“Well,” said Olga, “take a good look.” + +“Listen, baby,” said Joe, “you got it. I ain’t kidding. You got +everything. There ain’t a woman in Chicago that’s got half your stuff. +You make ’em all look silly.” + +Olga reached across the table and patted his hand. + +“I don’t believe it, but say it again. I like it.” + +“No fooling.” + +“What a line,” said Olga. + +The waiter brought their dessert. + +“I’ll tell you,” said Olga, looking at her wrist watch, “let’s go to a +movie. I got time.” + +Joe didn’t like movies very well; all that sappy love stuff! But now he +wanted to please Olga. + +“All right. Where’ll it be?” + +Olga turned to the waiter. + +“Bring us a paper, please.” + +The waiter brought a paper and handed it to Joe. He unfolded it and +started to turn to the theatrical page, but instead he read with +absorption an article on the front page. Olga saw him swallow several +times. When he glanced up at her there was a bewildered look in his +eyes and his face had begun to get pale. + +“What’s wrong?” she asked. + +“They got Tony,” said Joe. + +“Who?” + +“I don’t know. Rico, I guess. He must have turned yellow.” + +Joe ran his hand across his forehead, then he took out his gold +cigarette case, but without ostentation this time, and lit a cigarette. +Olga took the paper from him. She read: + + ANOTHER GANG KILLING + + Antonio Passalacqua, known as Tony Passa, reputed to be a member of + the Vettori gang, was found dead near the steps of St. Dominick’s + Cathedral ... as far as the police can ascertain no one saw him + killed ... when questioned Sam Vettori denied all knowledge of the + shooting and intimated that it was the work of a rival gang ... + police say that this is likely. + +“Jesus!” said Joe. + +Olga turned quickly to the theatrical page. + +“Joe, honey,” she said, “there’s a good comedy at the Oriental. What do +you say?” + +Joe crumpled up his cigarette and put it in the ash-tray. + +“Boy, Rico didn’t waste no time with him.” + +“Joe, don’t you want to see that comedy?” + +“Sure,” said Joe, “let’s go see it.” + +Joe sat silent in the taxi all the way to the theatre. As they were +getting out, he said: + +“Boy, that Rico is sure careless with a rod.” + +“Forget it, honey,” said Olga. + + + VI + +When Rico came in Seal Skin was sitting in a chair by the window and +Otero was lying on the bed without his shirt, singing loudly. Rico +walked over and put his hand on Seal Skin’s shoulder. + +“Listen,” he said, “I thought you told me you was gonna look after +The Greek?” + +“I can’t do nothing with him,” said Seal Skin. + +Rico went over to the bed and looked at Otero. + +“Señor Rico,” cried Otero, “listen, I will sing for you.” + +Rico turned. + +“Seal,” he said, “that bird’s gonna spill something if you don’t keep +him sober.” + +“Listen,” said Seal Skin, “I ain’t no nurse. A guy ought to look out +for himself. What the hell can I do, anyway? I can’t knock him cold.” + +“You never did have much sense,” said Rico. + +“All right, wise boy. Let’s see what you can do.” + +Rico took off his overcoat. + +“Got any ice?” + +“Sure,” said Seal Skin without moving. + +“Well, goddam it, get on your feet and get it.” + +Seal Skin was afraid of Rico but she didn’t want him to suspect it. She +got to her feet leisurely, picked up one of Otero’s big cigars, lit it, +and stood puffing. Then, having demonstrated her lack of fear, she +went to the kitchen for the ice. + +Rico went over to the bed. + +“Otero,” he said, “have you got any liquor around here?” + +“What do I care for liquor!” cried Otero. “I will sing for you.” + +Rico slapped Otero’s face. + +“A hell of a crew I’m mixed up with,” he said. + +Otero looked at him, startled. + +“What is wrong with me?” + +“You’re a dirty yellow bum.” + +“I am not a yellow bum,” cried Otero, trying to sit up. + +Rico struck him hard this time, knocking him back on the bed. Otero put +his hand to his face and looked at Rico. + +“If you got any more liquor here you better tell me where it is,” said +Rico. + +Otero reached under his pillow and pulled out a quart bottle over half +full. Rico slipped it into his pocket. + +Otero’s face got red. + +“Rico,” he said, “you give me back my liquor.” + +He tried to sit up but Rico hit him and he fell back. Seal Skin +came in with a couple of pieces of ice wrapped in a towel. + +“What the hell you want to beat him up for?” she said. + +“I’m gonna get him sober and keep him that way.” + +“Yeah? Well, you’re gonna have a full time job.” + +Rico took the ice, a piece in each hand, and began to rub it over +Otero’s face and chest. He rubbed hard and it hurt Otero, who struggled. + +“Rico,” he said, “what have I done to you? Rico, you are my friend. Why +do you treat me this way?” + +“He’ll be bawling next,” said Seal Skin. + +Of a sudden Otero got angry and struggled so fiercely that he threw +Rico off and climbed out of bed. The ice clattered to the floor. Rico +took one step toward him and set himself for a punch, but Seal Skin +grabbed his arm. + +“For God’s sake let up on him,” she cried, “ain’t he in bad enough +shape?” + +Rico was furious. He slapped Seal Skin across the face with his open +hand. + +“A fine bunch of yellow bellies and squealers I’m mixed up with,” +he cried. “Listen, idiot, ain’t he a meal ticket? You want the black +wagon to come and haul him away?” + +Otero reeled across the room. Rico leapt after him and knocked him to +the floor. Otero raised his head. + +“Rico,” he said, “what have I done to you?” + +Rico picked up the ice and kneeling down beside Otero began to rub him +with it, harder than before. Otero gasped. + +“Listen,” said Rico, “you got to get sober. I’m your friend, Otero. I +don’t want to see you get us all hung. Listen, Otero, do you get what +I’m saying? You got to sober up and stay that way.” + +Tears ran down Otero’s cheeks. + +“All right, Rico,” he said. + +In half an hour Rico had him sober. Seal Skin was sitting with her feet +on the window sill, smoking one of Otero’s big cigars. Otero sat pale +and shaken, looking at Rico. + +“Well, big boy,” said Seal Skin, “I got to hand it to you. You done it.” + +Rico smiled. Then he took out his billfold and handed Seal Skin a +ten. + +“There’s a little cush for you. You ain’t sore at me cause I socked +you, are you? I got red hot mad, that’s all.” + +“You didn’t sock me hard,” said Seal Skin, “but it was ten dollars’ +worth.” + +Otero didn’t have much to say. He sat looking at the floor, ashamed of +himself. + +“How do you feel?” asked Rico. + +“Me, not so good,” said Otero. + +“Want a little drink?” + +Otero looked at Rico, not trusting him, then he nodded. Rico handed him +the bottle. + +“I said little drink,” cautioned Rico. + +Otero took a swallow and handed back the bottle. + +“Now,” said Rico, “get your clothes on and we’ll take a look at Tony.” + + + VII + +There were many rumors in Little Italy about the passing of Sam +Vettori. The full truth, of course, was only guessed at, but the +simple facts were known. Sam Vettori’s star was setting, Rico’s was +rising. Rico had always been right; there was never any question of +that. Rico had always inspired fear. But now, as the probable head of +a big minor gang whose activities were varied and whose yearly income +was enormous, his potentialities were prodigiously increased and he was +treated accordingly. + +When he entered Tony’s flat several members of the Vettori gang, +sitting near the door, got up and offered him their chairs. He merely +shook his head and walked across to where Sam Vettori was sitting. +Otero, who had entered a little behind Rico, stopped to talk with +Blackie Avezzano. + +Carillo brought a chair for Rico and Rico sat down beside Sam Vettori. + +“We’re going to plant the kid right,” said Vettori, “that’ll look good.” + +Rico stared across the room at a large horseshoe wreath which bore the +single word: Tony. That was his contribution. + +“Sure,” said Rico. + +He was a little uneasy. Not that he felt any remorse. What he had +done was merely an act of policy. A man in this game must be a man. If +he gets yellow, why, there’s only one remedy for it. No, Rico was never +likely to err on the side of contrition. It was the massed flowers; +their sickly and overpowering odor made him vaguely uneasy. + +“They sure fix ’em up good now,” said Vettori, nodding in the direction +of the coffin; “he don’t look dead. He looks like he was asleep.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico. + +“It beats me how they do it,” said Vettori. + +Carillo came across the room and whispered to Rico and Vettori. + +“Two bulls in the hallway.” + +“They coming in?” asked Rico. + +“No, just standing there.” + +“All right.” + +There was a movement at the door. Mrs. Passalacqua came in between two +of her friends. She had been at St. Dominick’s for over an hour. Rico +got up and offered her his chair. One of the women helped her off with +her hat. She sat down. Her gray hair was parted in the middle and +drawn tightly down; her face was a dead white. She was wearing a plain +black dress and she sat with her hands in her lap. She looked at no +one, but fastened her eyes on the coffin. + +Rico walked over to look at Tony. At the head of the coffin were two +big candles, one of them leaning a little and dripping tallow. Tony +lay with his hands folded. Rico looked down. Somehow he had expected +Tony to be changed. He was not. Here lay the same Tony who used to +play poker with such fury. The same Tony, yes, only dead. Rico saw the +rigidity of the face, the parchment skin. He stood there, looking. + +Carillo put his hand on Rico’s shoulder. + +“Bulls want to see you, boss.” + +Rico nodded. + +“They want you to come out in the hall.” + +“All right,” said Rico, turning away from the coffin, “tell Otero.” + +Otero came over beside Rico and stood looking at Tony. + +“Listen,” said Rico, “this may be a pinch. I don’t know. If it is, I’ll +go with them. They ain’t got nothing on me. But if there’s any +trouble, Scabby’ll keep you posted. Ma’s got my jack, see?” + +“All right,” said Otero. + +Rico started across the room and Otero followed him. Before Rico +reached the door Tony’s mother suddenly put her hands to her face and +began to sob wildly. + +“Oh, Tony, Tony!” she cried. + +The women who had come in with her tried to quiet her, but she pushed +them away, and, rising, walked over to the coffin and stood looking +down at Tony. Then, still sobbing, she let the women lead her into the +next room. + +“That’s a woman for you,” said Rico. + +“Well,” said Otero, shrugging, “Tony was her son.” + +The hallway was lined with poor Italians who, not knowing the +Passalacquas, had come out of curiosity. They stood in silent groups, +trying to peep in through the open door. Women in disreputable +housedresses carrying dirty children; pregnant women; old men with +crinkly gray hair and seamed brown faces; young girls trying to +look up-to-date and American. When Rico came out they all stared +at him. + +Flaherty took hold of his arm. + +“Rico,” he said, “come down to the end of the hall. I want to see you a +minute.” + +“Is this a pinch?” asked Rico. + +Flaherty laughed. + +“Got a bad conscience, have you? Well, you ought to have.” + +Rico noticed that the other detective, whom he had never seen before, +kept staring at him. Rico planted his feet firmly and stared back. + +“What’s the big idea, Flaherty?” he asked. + +“Well,” said Flaherty, “just to put your mind at rest I’ll tell you, +this ain’t a pinch. It ought to be, but it ain’t. Now will you take a +walk...?” + +“Sure,” said Rico. + +Otero came out into the hallway and stood watching them. Rico went down +to the end of the hall with the two plain-clothes men. Some of the poor +Italians followed them and stood staring. But Flaherty motioned them +off as if he were shooing chickens. + +“Beat it,” he said; “go tend to your own business.” + +They moved away slowly, looking back. + +“All right,” said Rico, “let’s have it.” + +Flaherty took out a big cigar and began chewing on it. The other man +kept staring. Rico was puzzled and wondered what the game was; then he +noticed that the light at their end of the hall was good, much better +than any other place in the hall. The once-over? Well, what then. + +“Listen, Rico,” said Flaherty, “I like you and I’m going to give you a +tip. It’s going to be tough on you birds from now on. The Old Man’s got +his back up. Now get this. If you got anything on your mind, you better +spill it.” Flaherty paused to light his cigar. The other detective +watched Rico intently. “Because it’s going to be easy for the bird that +spilled it first. But God help the rest of them.” + +Rico smiled slightly. + +“Quit stalling,” he said. + +Flaherty glanced at the man with him, but the man shook his head. +Flaherty said: + +“Well, I’m giving you a friendly tip.” + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “you bulls always was friendly as hell. I spent two +years once just thinking how friendly you was. Listen, I ain’t got +nothing to spill. What the hell’s wrong with you, Flaherty? Did I ever +do any spilling?” + +Flaherty laughed. + +“Well,” he said, “there’s a first time for everything. All right, Rico, +you can go.” + +The two plain-clothes men pushed their way through the crowd and went +down the stairs. Rico went back into Tony’s flat. Sam Vettori and Otero +were waiting for him. Vettori was mopping his face with his big white +silk handkerchief. + +“Well?” he demanded. + +Rico shrugged. + +“Just stalling.” + +“What’s the game?” + +“You got me. I guess Flaherty wanted this other bird to give me the +once-over.” + +“Things getting pretty hot, Rico.” + +“Don’t beef, Sam. We’re gonna come through.” + +Otero said: + +“The old lady sure is taking it hard.” + +They could hear Tony’s mother sobbing loudly in the next room. + + + + + PART IV + + + I + +For three or four years Bat Carillo, once a third-rate +light-heavyweight, had been the leader of one of Vettori’s gangs +of hooligans. The members of this gang specialized in strong arm +stuff and intimidation; they threw bombs; they smashed up barrooms +and vice-joints operated by rival gangs. They were, in other words, +Vettori’s shock troops. Carillo was an excellent lieutenant, as +he always carried out orders to the letter; and was congenitally +incapable of imagining himself as chief in his own right. A good honest +subordinate without ambition. Vettori trusted him. + +In Carillo’s attitude since the killing of Courtney, therefore, +Vettori saw the most unmistakable symptom of his own passing. Carillo +had attached himself to Rico and called him “boss.” Carillo was not +careless with the word “boss”; it was not a conventional expression; +when he said “boss” he meant it. Aroused, Vettori saw similar +manifestations all around him; in Blackie Avezzano, in Killer +Pepi, in a dozen others. + +Vettori had always disliked Rico. Now he hated him. If Carillo or +Killer Pepi had remained faithful he would have had one of them kill +him and damn the consequences. But there was no question of that now. +He knew that he was whipped and he saw the necessity of a compromise. +Hanging was just over the horizon and Rico’s gun promised an even more +certain death. Vettori had never split with anyone. He had always taken +with both hands and given as little as possible. But it was split now +or die and Vettori could not contemplate the prospect of dying with any +degree of complacency. He sent for Rico. + +A new Rico appeared, followed by Otero, Carillo, and Killer Pepi. Rico +was wearing a big ulster like Joe’s and a derby also like Joe’s. He +had on fawn-colored spats drawn over pointed patent-leather shoes; and +a diamond horseshoe pin sparkled in a red, green and white striped +necktie. + +Vettori looked him over and winked at Killer Pepi, but Killer +Pepi’s face was stony. Carillo got a chair for Rico. + +“What’s on your mind, Sam?” said Rico, sitting down, throwing back his +ulster and pulling up his trousers to preserve the crease. + +Vettori hesitated. + +“I want to see you alone,” he said. + +“No,” said Rico, “I think I know your game, Sam, and I want the boys to +get an earful. Go ahead and spill it.” + +Vettori began to sweat. Killer Pepi said: + +“Yeah, we know.” + +“You know a hell of a lot, don’t you?” said Vettori. + +“We know, all right,” said Pepi. + +Nobody said anything. Rico took off his hat and began to comb his hair. +Vettori got out his cards and began to lay out a game of solitaire. + +Pepi said: + +“We know you went yellow, Sam, when Tony blew his top and started after +Come-To-Jesus McConagha. We know all right.” + +Vettori looked up at him. + +“What the hell I got you guys for anyway! Who hands out the cush?” + +Rico paused in the combing of his hair. + +“Don’t get rough, Sam.” + +Killer Pepi went over and stood with his back against the door. Otero +sat down opposite Vettori. + +“Well,” said Rico, “if you want to see me, spill it quick because I +ain’t got all night.” + +Vettori sighed profoundly, then he put down his cards and looked at the +men around him. He saw four hostile faces. + +“All right,” said Vettori, “but why the strong arm stuff, Rico? Sit +down, you guys, and I’ll have some drinks sent up.” + +The three men looked at Rico. + +“All right,” he said, “go bring up some drinks, Bat.” + +Carillo went out. Nobody said anything. Outside, a winter dusk settled +and the big electric sign on a level with the windows was switched on. +They sat looking at the sign. + + CLUB + + P + A + L + E + R + M + O + + DANCING + +Carillo brought in the drinks and they all sat around the table under +the green-shaded lamp. Otero, Carillo, and Killer Pepi drank whiskey; +Vettori wine; Rico pop. + +Vettori put down his glass. + +“Well, Rico,” he said, “I got a proposition to make you.” + +“All right,” said Rico, “spring it.” + +“Listen,” said Vettori, “I’m getting old. I’ll never see forty-five +again and when a guy’s that old he ain’t worth much.” + +“You ain’t getting old, Sam, you’re losing your guts,” said Rico. + +Killer Pepi laughed out loud and banged his fist on the table. But +Vettori swallowed this insult. + +“All right, Rico,” he said, “that’s your story. Well, here’s how it +is. I need a partner. You’re young, Rico, and you got the guts. All +the guys like you and they’ll do what you say. I got the lay-out and +you’re locking for a chance to be a big guy. Well, here’s your chance.” +Vettori thought for a moment, then he said: “I’ll split the works with +you.” + +Carillo and Pepi exchanged a look. Otero began to hum to himself. But +Rico said: + +“I’ll think it over.” + +Vettori began to sweat again. Was Rico going to get rid of him? + +“Well,” he said, putting on a front, “you can take it or leave it. I +like you, Rico, and I’m doing you a favor. Who’s got the money? Who’s +got the pull? What the hell would you guys do if you didn’t have the +Big Boy to pull you through?” + +“I’m O.K. with the Big Boy,” said Rico; “he was up to see me this +morning.” + +“Yeah,” said Pepi, “I brung him.” + +Vettori laid out a new game of solitaire. + +“Here’s the thing,” said Rico: “you’re trying to hang on, Sam. You must +think we’re dumb as hell. You want me to do the work so you can take it +easy. And you call that an even split. Hear what I say! That ain’t my +idea of a split.” + +“Well, I ain’t handing out charity,” said Vettori, losing his temper. + +Rico got to his feet and buttoned up his ulster. + +“All right, Sam.” + +Vettori slammed down his cards. + +“What do you guys think?” he demanded of Carillo, Pepi and Otero. + +They just looked at him. + +“Ain’t that a fair split?” + +“No,” said Rico, “I guess we can’t do no business.” + +Rico put on his hat and walked toward the door. The other three got up +and followed him. Vettori stood up. + +“Well,” he said, “you gonna try to run me out, Rico?” + +Vettori was panicky. Rico stood at the door and looked at him. + +“I was just figuring I’d open a joint across the street,” he said. + +Vettori knew what that meant. He had been through half a dozen gang +wars, but that was long ago when there were at least five separate +gangs in the neighborhood. Things had been comparatively quiet for over +three years. Vettori regretted the past bitterly. He regretted having +taken up with Rico, an unknown Youngstown wop. + +“Well,” he said, “Rico, you’re young and you ain’t got any too much +sense. What the hell! With things the way they are, we wouldn’t none of +us last a month. Listen, Rico, what’s your idea of a split?” + +Rico took off his hat and scratched his head, but carefully so that his +hair wouldn’t be disarranged. + +“I’ll hand you this, Sam,” said Rico, “you got the lay-out. The split’s +good that way. But you got sense enough to know that no two guys can +run things. The lay-out split is O.K. with me, but I got to have the +say, get that!” + +Vettori looked at the others. + +“What do you guys say?” + +“We’re in with Rico,” said Killer Pepi. + +Otero and Carillo nodded. Vettori brought his hand down on the table +with a smack. + +“O.K.,” he said. + + + II + +The gang gave a banquet for Rico in one of Sam Vettori’s big back +rooms. The table was fifteen feet long and was covered by a fine +white cloth. Red, green and white streamers hung from the chandeliers +and Italian and American flags were crossed at intervals along the +walls. At eleven o’clock the notables began to arrive. Killer Pepi in +a blue suit and a brown derby, with his woman, Blue Jay, on his arm. +Joe Sansone, gunman and ex-lightweight, in a Tuxedo, followed by his +shadow Kid Bean, a Sicilian, dark as a negro. Then Ottavio Vettori, +Sam’s cousin, not yet twenty-one, already famous as a gunman and spoken +of as a potential gang chief. Then Otero, Blackie Avezzano and Bat +Carillo, all with their women. They stood about stiffly, a little +uncomfortable in their fine clothes, and tried to make conversation. +The men, like all specialists, talked shop. Ottavio Vettori declared +that the police were a bunch of bums. Killer Pepi agreed that they +were. Joe Sansone said that the Federal men were just as bad, only +smarter and crookeder. Killer Pepi agreed that they were. Ottavio +Vettori didn’t agree. He said that the Federal men were dumber and +harder to fix. This brought on an argument. + +When Sam Vettori came in the men were all shouting. + +“What the hell!” said Sam, “ain’t this a fine way to act at a banquet? +You act like a bunch of gashouse micks. Cut the chatter.” + +Ottavio made a noise like a goat. + +“Baa! Baa!” + +Everybody laughed. Otero took out a quart bottle of whiskey, drank from +it and passed it to Seal Skin; she drank and passed it to Ottavio. The +bottle circled the room and returned empty. + +“You sure came prepared, you birds,” said Sam. “Did any of you guys +bring a lunch?” + +“Baa! Baa!” bellowed Ottavio. + +“My God, ain’t that cute!” said Killer Pepi’s girl. + +“Hell, that ain’t nothing,” said Pepi, “listen.” Pepi put three fingers +in his mouth and blew a blast that made their eardrums ring. + +“Lord,” said Ottavio, “the cops! Baa! Baa!” + +Three waiters came in, each carrying two quarts of whiskey. They put +the bottles on the table and went out. + +“That’s an appetizer,” said Sam. + +“Apéritif,” Joe Sansone corrected. + +Ottavio slapped him on the back. + +“What’s that, little Joe? What the hell lingo is that?” + +Joe pushed him away. + +“You dumb birds don’t know nothing. Swell people don’t say appetizer; +they say apéritif.” + +“The hell they do! Well, I expect you know all about it. You used to be +a bellboy at the Blackstone.” + +Everybody laughed. Killer Pepi blew a blast on his fingers. His girl +looked at him admiringly. + +“How the hell you ever learn to do that?” + +“Aw, that ain’t nothing.” + +“Say, Sam,” said Carillo, “when do we eat?” + +“When the boss gets here,” said Pepi. + +“Well, he better step on it because I’m so hungry I could eat +dynamite,” said Ottavio. + +“Keep your shirt on,” said Pepi. + +“Haven’t got an old soup sandwich in your pocket, have you?” asked +Ottavio. + +Everybody laughed. Ottavio was the recognized wit of the Vettori gang. +All that he had to do to get a laugh was to open his mouth. + +Sam Vettori took one of the quarts from the table and sent it round the +room. It came back empty. + +“What the hell you suppose is keeping Rico?” asked Carillo. + +“Keep your shirt on,” said Pepi. + +“I go see,” said Otero. + +As he went out, the Big Boy came in. He had on a big racoon coat and +his derby was on the side of his head. Sam Vettori rushed over and +shook hands with him. + +“What the hell you doing here?” he demanded. + +“Me, I came to see the fun. Things are looking up, Sam. Things sure to +God are looking up. I think we got ’em whipped.” + +Sam Vettori smiled broadly and poured the Big Boy a drink. Well, well! +If the Courtney business blew over he was sitting pretty. All things +considered, he hadn’t done so bad. Time after time he had seen old gang +leaders go down before younger men. But here he was hanging on, getting +a 50-50 split, and taking no chances. Rico was the goods. Goddam him +and all his kind, but he was the goods. + +“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, “you got the Old Man on the run and +Flaherty’s about ready to do the Dutch Act. It’s gonna blow over, Sam. +You heard me speak. It’s gonna blow over. I want to see Rico.” + +“He ain’t showed yet,” said Sam. + +“Damn smart boy,” said the Big Boy. + +Sam smiled. + +“Yeah,” he said, pouring the Big Boy another drink, “damn smart +kid. He’s young yet, but I can show him the ropes.” + +The Big Boy didn’t say anything. He just looked at Vettori. + +Otero came running in, followed by two waiters, one of whom was +carrying a big ulster and a derby; the other was carrying a woman’s fur +coat. + +“Here he comes,” cried Otero. + +Kid Bean, who had collected a crowd in the middle of the room, and +was walking on his hands to amuse them (he had once been an acrobat), +jumped hastily to his feet and backed up against the wall. The crowd +followed him. Killer Pepi said: + +“All right now. Everybody yell like hell when he comes in.” + +Rico came in slowly, talking to Blondy Belle, the swellest woman in +Little Italy. She was a handsome Italian, bold and aquiline. Her +complexion and eyes were dark, but her hair, naturally black, was +blondined, and this gave her an incongruous and a somewhat formidable +appearance. + +Rico was greeted by an uproar, pierced by Killer Pepi’s shrill +whistle. The Big Boy went to meet Rico and shook hands with him. Sam +Vettori smiled and nodded, very affable, then went out to get things +started. The Big Boy said to Blondy Belle: + +“Got yourself a regular man, did you?” + +Blondy took hold of Rico’s arm. + +“Surest thing you know.” + +The Big Boy laughed. + +“What’d you do with Little Arnie?” + +Rico took out a cigar and bit off the end. + +“She ditched him,” he said. + +The Big Boy meditated. Blondy Belle had been Little Arnie’s woman for +a long time. Little Arnie ran the biggest gambling joint on the North +Side, but he had been slipping for a year or more. He wasn’t right; +nobody could trust him. + +“How did Little Arnie take it?” asked the Big Boy. + +“He took it standing up,” said Blondy Belle. + +“Well, what could he do?” said Rico. + +Killer Pepi, Ottavio Vettori and Joe Sansone, as the most important men +in the gang next to Sam Vettori, came over to shake hands with +Rico. + +“A million dollars ain’t in it with you,” said Pepi, looking his boss +over. + +Rico was wearing a loud striped suit and a purple tie. He still had on +his gloves, yellow kid, of which he was very proud, and his diamond +horseshoe pin had been replaced by a big ruby surrounded by little +diamonds. Ottavio envied him his gloves. But Joe Sansone was not +impressed; he knew better. + +“Yes sir, boss, you sure are lit up,” said Ottavio. + +“Here’s the half-pint,” said Killer Pepi, pushing Joe Sansone forward. + +Joe shook hands with Rico. + +“Yes sir,” said Ottavio, “the half-pint’s a good boy, but he and +Gentleman Joe’re too swell for us.” + +Rico looked around the room. + +“Joe Massara here?” + +“Ain’t seen him,” said Pepi. + +“He won’t be here,” said Joe Sansone; “he’s busy.” + +Rico didn’t say anything. Blondy took hold of his arm. + +“I want a drink.” + +Rico looked at Pepi. + +“Get her a drink,” he said. + +The Big Boy took Rico aside and said: + +“I want to see you a minute, Rico.” + +Rico said: + +“Listen, if you see Joe Massara tomorrow you tell him to look me up. I +got something to say to that bird.” + +“I’ll be seeing him maybe,” said the Big Boy. “I got a date with his +boss tomorrow morning. There’s a square guy, Rico. DeVoss is a square +guy all right. Never have to nudge him for dough.” + +Rico seemed in a bad humor. + +“They tell me you lined up something good,” said the Big Boy. + +Rico nodded. + +“Yeah, it’s gonna be a money maker. Little Arnie wised me up. I’m gonna +give him a split. That’s the game now. Sam never had sense enough to +get in on it.” + +“Little Arnie, eh? That guy’d double-cross his grandmother.” + +“He’ll only double-cross me once,” said Rico. + +“I believe you,” said the Big Boy; then, putting his hand on Rico’s +shoulder, he went on: “Funny for you to split with Arnie. How about +Blondy?” + +“Arnie don’t give a damn. He’s all shot to pieces. He can’t do a woman +no good.” + +“No wonder,” said the Big Boy, “with a woman like that.” + +Rico grinned. + +“Ain’t she a bearcat!” he said; then his face clouded. “Wonder what the +hell Joe Massara’s game is?” + +The Big Boy looked at Rico for a moment. + +“That little hunky dancer over at DeVoss’s has got him down. They tell +me he’s going straight.” + +Rico laughed unpleasantly. + +“Yeah? Well, I’ll have to go over and give that bird an earful.” + +“Better stay out of that end of town, Rico.” + +“To hell with that.” + +Sam Vettori came in, followed by three waiters bringing the soup. + +“All right,” said Sam, “we’re all set.” + +Rico took his place at the head of the table. The Big Boy sat on his +right and Blondy Belle on his left. The gunmen and their women arranged +themselves according to rank. Blackie Avezzano sat at the foot of the +table. + + + III + +When the meal was over the Big Boy asked Rico to make a speech. There +was a prolonged clamor. Rico got up. + +“All right,” he said, “if you birds want me to make a speech, here you +are: I want to thank you guys for this banquet. It sure is swell. The +liquor is good, so they tell me, I don’t drink it myself, and the food +don’t leave nothing to be desired. I guess we all had a swell time and +it sure is good to see all you guys gathered together. Well, I guess +that’s about all. Only I wish you guys wouldn’t get drunk and raise +hell, as that’s the way a lot of birds get bumped off.” + +Rico sat down. The applause lasted for over a minute. Then Ottavio +got up with a bottle in his hand. + +“Here’s to Rico and Blondy and the Big Boy.” + +Everybody shouted and made a grab for bottles and glasses. Blackie +Avezzano fell under the table and stayed there, lying on his face. +After the toast was drunk, Killer Pepi and Kid Bean began to quarrel. +The Kid picked up a plate and struck at Pepi, who threw a bottle at the +Kid, missing him by a fraction of an inch. + +Rico banged on the table. + +“Cut it out, you guys. Ain’t that a hell of a way to act?” + +Pepi and the Kid shook hands and another toast was drunk. + +A waiter came in the door and went over to Rico. + +“Couple of newspaper guys, boss. They want to take a flashlight.” + +“What’s the idea?” the Big Boy inquired. + +“Send ’em up,” said Rico. + +“We’re gonna get our mugs shot,” cried Blondy Belle. + +“Maybe we are,” said Rico. + +“What’s the idea?” the Big Boy reiterated. + +“We ain’t got nothing to hide,” said Rico. + +The waiter returned, followed by two newspaper men, one of whom was +carrying a big camera. Rico motioned them over. + +“Who sent you?” he asked. + +Sam Vettori came in and went over to Rico. + +“They’re O.K., Rico,” he said, “they been here before.” + +“Sure, we’re O.K.,” said the photographer, a little intimidated by +Rico’s manner. + +“Well, spill it,” said Rico, “what’s the idea of the flashlight?” + +“Well, we got a section in the Sunday paper about how different classes +of people live in Chicago. See? Last week we featured Lake Forest. Had +some pictures of the swells, see, and the dumps where they lived. This +Sunday we want Little Italy. We just heard about the banquet they was +giving you, Mr. Rico, so we kinda thought....” + +“O.K.,” said Rico, “but make it snappy.” + +“I’m out of this picture,” said the Big Boy, rising and walking +over to the doorway. Sam Vettori took his place. + +After maneuvering about for a few minutes the photographer got the +correct slant. He put the powder on the little tray. + +“Now!” he cried. + +Rico sat with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, looking very +stern. There was a blinding flash. Ottavio Vettori leapt into the +air and crying “My God, I’m shot” fell face down across the table. +Everybody laughed. + +When the newspaper men had gone the Big Boy came over and put his hand +on Rico’s arm. + +“They may pick you up on that.” + +“Who the hell’s gonna see it.” + +“You don’t know who’s gonna see it. That was a bad play, Rico.” + +Rico laughed. + +“If they pick me up, I’ll alibi them to death.” + +When the banquet was over Rico had Otero call him a cab. Blondy Belle +was a little drunk and Rico had to support her as they went down the +stairs. As she weighed about twenty pounds more than he did, this +was not an easy job. As they were going out the side-entrance, Flaherty +left his table in the club and came over to them. + +He put his hand on Rico’s shoulder. + +“Getting up in the world ain’t you, Rico?” + +Rico looked at him. + +“Don’t you know your old pal Jim Flaherty?” + +“Sure I know you. What’s the big idea?” + +“Go chase yourself around the block, flat-foot,” said Blondy Belle; “if +I ain’t getting sick of seeing bulls.” + +“Hello, Blondy,” said Flaherty, “you and Rico hitting it off, eh? +That’s the old ticket. Rico’s a good boy, but he’s young. If they don’t +put him behind the bars, he’ll be a man yet.” + +“What’s the idea, Flaherty?” asked Rico. + +“Why, I don’t want you to forget that I’m your friend,” said Flaherty. +“I got my eyes on you, Rico. I like to see a young guy getting up in +the world.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico. + +The cab was waiting at the curb and one of the waiters went out and +opened the door for them. Rico boosted Blondy Belle into the cab. +Flaherty stood in the doorway and watched them drive off. + +“The nerve of that Irish bastard,” said Blondy. + +But Rico had forgotten Flaherty. He sat thinking about Joe Massara. +Gentleman Joe was getting too good for them, eh? He was going to turn +softie. + +“Well, I guess not,” said Rico. + + + IV + +The sound of the pianola woke Rico. He sat up and looked at his wrist +watch. It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon. He had slept twelve hours. + +Rico lived at a tension. His nervous system was geared up to such a +pitch that he was never sleepy, never felt the desire to relax, was +always keenly alive. He did not average over five hours sleep a night +and as soon as he opened his eyes he was awake. When he sat in a chair +he never thrust out his feet and lolled, but sat rigid and alert. +He walked, ate, took his pleasures in the same manner. What +distinguished him from his associates was his inability to live in the +present. He was like a man on a long train journey to a promised land. +To him the present was but a dingy way-station; he had his eyes on the +end of the journey. This is the mental attitude of a man destined for +success. But the resultant tension had its drawbacks. He was subject +to periodic slumps. His energy would suddenly disappear; he would lose +interest in everything and for several days would sleep twelve to +fifteen hours at a stretch. This was a dangerous weakness, and Rico was +aware of it and feared it. + +Rico leapt out of bed and hastily put on his clothes. + +“Twelve hours, boy,” he said to his reflection in the mirror, as he +stood combing his hair, “that’ll never do.” + +He had been seeing too much of Blondy Belle; that was the trouble. +Rico had very little to do with women. He regarded them with a sort +of contempt; they seemed so silly, reckless and purposeless, also +mendacious and extremely undependable. Not that Rico trusted men, far +from it. He was temperamentally suspicious. But in the course of +his life he had discovered a few men he could trust, but no women. What +he feared most in women, though, was not their treachery, that could +be guarded against, but their ability to relax a man, to make him soft +and slack, like Joe Massara. Rico had never been deeply involved with +a woman. Incapable of tender sentiments, he had escaped the commoner +kind of pitfalls. He was given to short bursts of lust, and, this lust +once satisfied, he looked at women impersonally for a while, as one +looks at inanimate objects. But at times this lust, usually the result +of an inner need and not the outcome of exterior stimulus, would be +aroused by the sight of some particular woman. This had been the case +with Blondy Belle; she was big, healthy and lascivious. This exactly +suited Rico’s tastes; she excited him, and for that very reason he was +on guard against her. + +“Yeah,” he said, “I got to lay off Blondy for a while.” + +She wanted him to come and live with her, but he refused. The offer +tickled his vanity, though, for Pepi or Joe Sansone would have +jumped at the chance. But not Rico. He fought shy of any kind of ties. +A slight relaxing of this principal and you are tangled up before you +know it. The strong travel light. + +He went out into the living room. Blondy, in a cerise kimono, was +pedaling the pianola and singing loudly. The room was in disorder. +Stockings hung from the backs of chairs, the dress Blondy had worn the +night before was suspended from the chandelier on a coat-hanger, and +there was a pile of clothes in the middle of the room. + +Blondy turned around and smiled at him, pedaling the piano at the same +time. + +“What the hell kind of a piece is that?” asked Rico. + +“That’s an Eyetalian piece,” said Blondy. “Ain’t it swell?” + +“No,” said Rico, “I like jazz better.” + +Blondy stopped the pianola and back-pedaled the roll. + +“I got it yesterday because I thought you’d like it,” she said. + +“Hell, quit kidding,” said Rico. + +“I sure did. It’s from an Opera.” + +“Yeah? Say, what’s wrong with you?” + +Blondy looked at him. She had pretensions. Ten years ago she had been +a lady’s maid and she felt that she was somewhat cultured. One summer +she had even made Little Arnie take her to Ravinia Park to hear the +Opera. The soprano impressed her by her loud singing; the tenor by his +beautiful legs. + +“You’d think I was a regular wop to hear you talk,” said Rico; “say, I +was born in Youngstown and I can’t even speak the lingo.” + +“Well, I guess I wasn’t born in the old country either,” said Blondy. + +She put a new roll on the pianola and Rico sat smoking, while she +played it. Rico had no ear for music; he couldn’t even whistle, or +distinguish one tune from another. But he liked rhythm. There was +something straightforward and primitive about jazz rhythms that +impressed him. + +“That’s a good one,” he said, when the roll was played through. + +“Want to hear some more?” + +“No,” said Rico, “I got to go.” + +He rose and went over to the closet for his overcoat, but Blondy said: + +“Listen, Rico, I want to see you a minute before you go.” + +“What about?” + +“About Little Arnie.” + +Rico stared at her. + +“What’s the idea? To hell with Little Arnie. As long as he’s straight +with me I ain’t got no interest in him at all.” + +“He ain’t straight with nobody.” + +Rico just looked at her. + +Little Arnie had played his hand badly. At first he hadn’t minded +losing Blondy Belle in the least; she cost him a good deal of money +and she bored and irritated him. But he had been kidded unmercifully. +As he had no sense of humor whatever and was very touchy in a personal +matter, this eventually angered him. In revenge, he talked. He told +all who would listen that Blondy Belle was a liar, a crook, and had +certain unnatural appetites. Killer Pepi was one of the auditors and he +immediately repeated Little Arnie’s assertions to his woman, Blue +Jay, who ran at once to Blondy Belle. Yes, Little Arnie, who was fifty +percent fool, had played his hand badly. + +Blondy lit a cigarette and lay down on the davenport. + +“Come over here and sit down,” she said; “I’ll give you an earful.” + +“I ain’t got no time,” said Rico. + +Blondy blew out a cloud of smoke. + +“Arnie’s double-crossing you right now!” said Blondy. + +“What you got on your mind?” said Rico; “spill it.” + +“All right,” said Blondy. “Arnie’s giving you a split on the house, +ain’t he? What’s the split?” + +“Thirty percent.” + +“How do you know you’re getting thirty?” + +“I look at the books.” + +Blondy laughed. + +“Them books is crooked.” + +“Straight dope?” asked Rico, his face hardening. + +“Sure,” said Blondy, “I wasn’t gonna say nothing. It wasn’t none +of my business, but Arnie’s been peddling a lot of loose talk about me +and I don’t take that.” + +“All right,” said Rico, “now you know so damn much, how we gonna prove +it?” + +“It’s a cinch,” said Blondy; “hand Arnie’s boy, Joe Peeper, some dough +and he’ll spill the news. Joe hates Arnie.” + +“Good!” said Rico, banging the table with his fist; “I’ll run Arnie out +of town and declare you in, Blondy. You got brains.” + +Blondy looked at him. + +“You stick to me, boy, and we’ll own the town.” + +“Don’t get swelled up,” said Rico, “just because you happened to be in +the know.” + +That’s what she liked about Rico. He was hard to impress. + +“Hell of a lot of thanks I get for it,” said Blondy. + +“Don’t worry about that,” said Rico, his head buzzing with projects, +“you’ll get something better than thanks.” + +Rico went to the closet and got his coat and hat. + +“Wait a minute, big boy,” said Blondy, “you ain’t heard it all. +Listen, that joint of Arnie’s is worth plenty of dough. He ain’t gonna +give it up without a battle.” + +“Hell,” said Rico, “he’s yellow.” + +“Sure he is. But he’s tricky. Rico, if you can’t work the Joe Peeper +stunt, here’s a lever. Remember Limpy John?” + +“Sure,” said Rico, “they bumped him off.” + +“Who did?” + +“The cops.” + +Blondy laughed. + +“They thought they did. Arnie bumped him off.” + +Rico grinned. + +“I got you.” + +Rico put on his overcoat. + +“Be round tonight?” asked Blondy. + +“No, I got business.” + +“Monkey business.” + +“No, I got to go cross town. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow.” + +Blondy lay back on the davenport. + +“You’ll sure be missing something,” she said. + +“I’ll ketch up,” said Rico. + +When Rico had gone, Blondy played a couple of rolls on the pianola, +then she drank half a pint of liquor and went back to bed. + + + V + +Rico found the door of his apartment unlocked. Before entering he +unbuttoned his overcoat and took out his automatic. Only one person had +a key to his apartment except himself: Otero. If Otero wasn’t in there +then whoever was in there was in trouble. Rico opened the door slowly. +Otero was sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall, smoking +a cigarette and dozing. + +“Otero!” + +Otero opened his eyes. + +“Hello, boss.” + +Rico locked the door behind him. + +“Listen, don’t you know better than to leave that door open?” + +“I forgot, Rico.” + +Rico took off his overcoat and hat. + +“You better keep your head working, boy,” said Rico, “or you’ll get +your neck stretched. What you doing here, anyway?” + +Otero got up from his chair and stood dangling his hat. + +“I want money.” + +Rico looked at him. + +“I’m broke, boss. I ain’t got a cent.” + +Rico laughed. Otero seemed so helpless. + +“You mean to tell me you ain’t got a cent out of that Casa Alvarado +split?” + +Otero shrugged. + +“What in hell did you do with it?” + +“Well, Seal she spends money, spends money. I take it out of my pocket +till I ain’t got any more.” Otero shrugged and rolled a fresh cigarette. + +Rico took out his billfold and handed Otero a fifty. + +“I’ll take that out of your next split.” + +Otero smiled. + +“That’s all the same to me, boss.” + +He was speaking the truth. He hadn’t the slightest conception of the +value of money. He spent till what he had was gone, then he asked +Rico for more. Rico shook his head. + +“Listen, Otero, ain’t you never gonna get no sense! You got over a +grand and a half out of that Casa Alvarado stand. And here you are +broke. Why some guys work a whole year for less than that.” + +Otero shrugged. + +“I have worked for two pesos a week.” + +Rico took some small change out of his pocket and handed it to Otero. + +“Go down to the corner and get a couple of Tribunes. Get three.” + +“Three of the same kind?” + +“Sure.” + +Otero went out. Rico opened the window a few inches and sat down +beside it. There was a touch of Spring in the air and it made him feel +restless. He wanted to be doing things. In a week or less, he’d have +Little Arnie’s big gambling joint. That meant dough and plenty of it. +He’d turn it over to Sam Vettori and let him run it. Sam was looking +for something to do. Then maybe he could muscle in on the North Side +graft. That wasn’t easy. Pete Montana was a wise bird and he had +the North Side tied up. Well, maybe the Big Boy could help him there. +Rico jumped to his feet and began to pace up and down. + +Otero came in with the papers. Rico took them from him and tore one of +them apart till he came to the magazine section. There it was. Big type +proclaimed: + + ITALIAN UNDERWORLD CHIEF GIVEN BIG FEED + +Otero, looking over Rico’s shoulder, saw the flashlight picture. In his +excitement he pushed Rico aside and placing his finger on a section of +the picture, cried: + +“There I am!” + +Rico took the other two papers apart and got out the magazine sections. +Then he put the three sections side by side and compared them. + +“All too dark,” he said. + +Nevertheless, having chosen the clearest one of the three, he took his +scissors and cut it out. + +I want one too,” said Otero. + +“All right,” said Rico, “help yourself.” + + + VI + +DeVoss was standing in the lobby when Rico came in. DeVoss looked +him over thoroughly, positive that he was out of his element in an +atmosphere as exclusive as that of The Bronze Peacock. Not that Rico +looked the least bit shabby. If anything, he was dressed more carefully +than usual, from his modish derby to his fawn-colored spats. The big +ulster he was wearing hid the loud striped suit and a plain dark +muffler hid the loud striped tie. No, sartorially Rico could pass at +The Bronze Peacock. But there was something vulgar and predatory about +him that did not escape DeVoss. + +“That’s a bad one there,” he told himself. + +Rico glanced about the lobby, taking everything in from habit. It was +not a good plant but it could be worked. Not that he had any intention +of working it, but you never know. He came up to DeVoss and said: + +“Excuse me, but where’ll I find the manager of this place.” + +DeVoss looked at him coldly. + +“I’m the manager.” + +Rico grinned. + +“Well,” he said, “I guess we got a mutual friend. The Big Boy tells me +you and him does business together.” + +DeVoss’s manner changed abruptly. + +“Oh, yes. You’re one of his friends, are you? What can I do for you?” + +“I want to see Joe Massara.” + +“That’s easy,” said DeVoss, “he’s back in his dressing-room. I’ll take +you back.” + +Rico followed DeVoss and they went up a few steps at the end of the +lobby and came out into the club proper. It was empty except for a +couple of electricians who were working on the stage spotlights. + +“So you’re one of the Big Boy’s friends,” said DeVoss, curious. + +“I’m Rico.” + +DeVoss looked at him, startled. + +“Oh,” he said, “you’re Rico.” + +All the way up the rear corridor DeVoss kept looking sideways at +Rico. One of Little Arnie’s men had told him about the new Vettori gang +chief. Dangerous as dynamite! He congratulated himself on his acumen. +By God, he kept repeating to himself, I knew he was a bad one. + +DeVoss knocked at Joe’s door. Someone called “come in.” DeVoss opened +the door and Rico followed him into the room. Joe was sitting in his +shirt sleeves, his vest off, displaying a pair of fancy suspenders. +(Rico made a mental note of the suspenders. His taste ran more to fancy +sleeve garters. But if men like Joe were wearing fancy suspenders, why, +he’d have to get himself a pair.) Olga Stassoff, in a black, red and +gold Japanese kimono, was lying on a lounge, holding a Pekingese on +her chest and rubbing its face against her own. A big man in evening +clothes was standing with his back to the door. When Joe saw Rico he +got to his feet in a hurry and stood smiling a little uneasily. The big +man turned around. + +“Mr. Rico wants to see you, Joe,” said DeVoss; then he put his hand on +Rico’s arm and said: “When you get done with Joe, why, come up to +the office and we’ll have a little drink.” + +“Sorry,” said Rico, “I don’t use it. But thanks just the same.” + +DeVoss’s eyebrows rose. + +“You mean you don’t drink!” + +“Rico drinks milk,” said Joe, trying to be funny. + +But Rico didn’t even smile. + +“Yeah,” he said, “sometimes I drink milk.” + +“Well, drop in anyway on your way out,” said DeVoss. + +DeVoss closed the door. Rico noticed that the girl in the Japanese +kimono was staring at him. She didn’t look like much to him; too +skinny; all the same he insolently ran his eyes over her. The big man +said: + +“I guess there’s no use for us to offer you a drink.” + +Joe took Rico by the arm. + +“Olga, I want you to meet Rico. Rico, this is Olga Stassoff.” + +“Pleased to meet you,” said Rico. + +Olga sat up and tried to smile, but it was no use. Rico was +repulsive to her, principally because she was certain that he had +killed Joe’s friend, Tony, but also because he stared at her insolently +with his small, pale eyes. + +“This boy here,” said Joe, taking the big man familiarly by the arm, +“is Mr. Willoughby, the millionaire.” + +“Why bring that up?” said Willoughby. + +Rico had an instinctive respect for wealth. Money was power. He smiled +affably and offered his hand. + +“Pleased to meet you,” he said. + +Willoughby shook hands strenuously, then he inquired: + +“Have you got some private business with Joe?” + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “but there ain’t no hurry about it.” + +“That’s all right,” said Willoughby. “Olga and I’ll go over next door. +Eh, Olga? When you get through, why, give us a rap and we’ll come back. +Don’t suppose I could persuade you to join us in a little supper before +the show?” + +Rico was flattered. + +“Well,” he said, “I might.” + +“Good,” said Willoughby; then taking Olga by the hand he pulled +her to her feet. But Olga hesitated and stood looking from Joe to Rico. + +“Run along, baby,” said Joe. + +“Well, don’t take all night about it,” said Olga. + +“I won’t keep him long,” Rico put in. + +When Olga and Willoughby had gone Rico said: + +“Flying pretty high, ain’t you, Joe?” + +“Willoughby’s just one of Olga’s fish. He’s gonna back her in a big +show.” + +“Yeah? Well, if that bird’s got a million bucks you both better clamp +onto him. Nice little Jane you got, Joe.” + +“Olga’s O.K.,” said Joe. + +Rico unbuttoned his ulster to display his finery. He had on one of his +striped suits. It was dead black with a narrow pink stripe. The color +scheme was further complicated by a pale blue shirt and an orange and +white striped tie adorned with the ruby pin. + +Joe stared at him. + +“All lit up, ain’t you, Rico?” he said. + +Rico nodded, pleased. + +“Yeah, I kind of got it into my head I ought to dress up now.” + +“They tell me you crowded Sam out,” said Joe. + +Rico looked at him. + +“Didn’t nobody tell you the boys was giving a banquet for me?” + +“Yeah, they told me,” said Joe, hurriedly, “but it was on at the wrong +time for me.” + +Rico took out a cigar and bit off the end of it. + +“I ain’t seen you since the big stand.” + +“No,” said Joe, looking at the floor. “I been laying low. They had me +scared.” + +Rico banged his fist on the arm of his chair. + +“Goddam it, Joe, what you got up your sleeve?” + +Joe looked startled. He sat silent and from time to time raised his +eyes to glance at Rico, who was staring at him. + +“Spill it, Joe,” said Rico. + +“Well,” said Joe, “I been making pretty good money with my dancing. +Olga and me has got a turn together that’s going over big. They want to +put us in a show. Listen, Rico, I got enough of the racket. This +last stand damn near fixed me. Jesus, but we was lucky.” + +“We ain’t out yet,” said Rico, “and we don’t want no softies spoiling +things.” + +Rico and Joe stared at each other for a moment. Joe began to get pale. + +“You ain’t dumb, Joe,” said Rico, “what the devil! You mean to tell me +you’re gonna quit the racket. Why, boy, you ain’t seen nothing yet. In +a couple of weeks I’m gonna take over Little Arnie’s joint. The Big Boy +even wants to be declared in. Listen, Joe, you’re a smart boy and I can +use you. To hell with that dancing stuff. As a front it’s O.K., but no +man’s gonna make his living that way.” + +Joe slumped down in his chair. + +“I got your number, Joe,” Rico went on, “it’s that damn skirt. She’s +making a softie of you, Joe.” + +“Lord, Rico,” said Joe, “can’t a guy quit? I ain’t gonna spill nothing. +You think I want to get my neck stretched?” + +“Yeah? Look at Tony. He turned soft and they patted him with a spade. +Once a guy turns soft he ain’t no good in this world. Didn’t +Humpy get soft on Red Gus and turn State’s? Yeah! Who got the neck +stretching? Red Gus. Humpy got fifteen years and he’ll be out in half +of that.” + +Joe slumped further down in his chair. + +“Rico, you know I ain’t yellow.” + +“All right,” said Rico, “if that’s the dope, I can use you. Ottavio and +me has been figuring on a little stand that won’t be half bad. I need a +good inside man, Joe. A cut will be worth two grand at least.” + +Someone knocked at the door. It was DeVoss. He came over to Rico and +said: + +“Mr. Rico, there’s a couple of dicks out in the lobby. When I asked +them what they wanted, they said they was just looking around.” + +Rico said: + +“Two bits it’s Flaherty. All right, Mr. DeVoss, thanks.” + +DeVoss went out. Joe got to his feet and turned agonized eyes on Rico. + +“What did you have to come clear across town for, Rico? Can’t you let +me alone?” + +Rico paid no attention to him. + +“There’s one Irishman,” he said, “that ain’t long for this world.” + +“Rico,” said Joe, “for God’s sake stay over in your own end of town. I +don’t want the bulls coming here.” + +“Listen,” said Rico, his eyes glowing, “if I hear any more of this +softie stuff I’ll only be back once more.” + +Willoughby and Olga came in. + +“Didn’t you rap for us?” asked Willoughby. + +“No, that was DeVoss,” said Rico, “but we’re done. Say, Mr. Willoughby, +I sure am sorry but I got to pass up that invitation of yours. I got +some important business with a couple of guys.” + +“Sorry,” said Willoughby. + +“Yes, we’re sorry,” said Olga, trying to be affable on Joe’s account. + +Rico shook hands with Joe. + +“I’ll be seeing you.” + +“All right, Rico,” said Joe. + +When Rico emerged he saw DeVoss coming down the corridor. He looked +somewhat agitated. + +“They’re sure enough looking for you, Mr. Rico. For Lord’s sake +don’t cause no trouble in my place.” + +Rico grinned. + +“There won’t be no trouble unless them damn dummies out there start it.” + +Rico followed DeVoss back through the club. On the stage the orchestra +was tuning up and a few early couples were sitting at the tables. When +they got to the lobby Rico saw Flaherty and another detective. Flaherty +came over to him. + +“Well, Rico,” he said, “kind of out of your territory, ain’t you?” + +“What the hell of it?” + +Rico buttoned his ulster and carefully arranged his muffler. + +“Oh, nothing. Don’t you remember I told you I was keeping an eye on +you? Sure thing. I’m interested in young guys that want to get up in +the world.” + +“Aw, can that,” said Rico. + +He noticed that people were coming into the place; in the club the +orchestra had begun to play. He remembered what the Big Boy had said +about DeVoss. + +“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, “no use causing DeVoss +no trouble. You bulls got about as much regard for a guy as a couple of +hyenas.” + +“You’re long on regard yourself, ain’t you, Rico?” said Flaherty, +laughing. + +Rico nodded to DeVoss and went out. Flaherty and the other detective +followed him. Rico was standing at the curb under the canvas marquee. +They came up to him. He stared at Flaherty. + +“Listen, Flaherty,” he said, “did you ever stop to think how you’d look +with a lily in your hand?” + +“I never did,” said Flaherty, with a sneer. “I been at this game for +twenty-five years and I’ve got better guys than you hung, and I never +got a scratch.” + +Rico took out a cigar and lit it. A taxi drew up at the curb. + +“Well, here’s my wagon,” said Rico, “want to take a ride?” + +“No,” said Flaherty, “when we take a ride together I’ll have the cuffs +on you.” + +“No Irish bastard’ll ever put no cuffs on Rico!” + +Flaherty’s face got red, but he turned on his heel and was about +to go when Rico said: + +“And another thing, Flaherty, you was always O.K. with me, see, but now +you ain’t. You ain’t got nothing on me and you ain’t got no business +trailing me every place I go. Take a tip. Sam and me’re getting tired +of seeing you guys climb the stairs. The first floor’s open to anybody, +they even allow cops in there, but the upstairs is private.” + +“Yeah?” said Flaherty, who had succeeded in controlling his temper. + +“Yeah. Some day one of you wise dicks is gonna make a one way trip up +them stairs.” + +“Getting up in the world, ain’t you, Rico?” said Flaherty, “maybe you +better run for mayor.” + +Rico slammed the door of the cab. Flaherty turned to the man with him +and said: + +“I’ll get that swell-headed Dago if it’s the last thing I ever do.” + + + + + PART V + + + I + +There were quite a few wise boys in Little Italy who thought that +Rico’s sensational rise was a fluke. The matter was talked about a good +deal and he was unfavorably compared with Nig Po and Monk de Angelo, +former leaders, and there were even those who considered him inferior +to Killer Pepi, Ottavio Vettori, and Joe Sansone. This confusion arose +because Rico was not understood. He had none of the outward signs of +greatness. Neither the great strength and hairiness of Pepi, nor the +dash and effrontery of Ottavio Vettori, nor the maniacal temper of +Joe Sansone. He was small, pale and quiet. In spite of his new finery +he wasn’t much to look at. He did not swagger, he seldom raised his +voice, he never bragged. In other words, the general run of Little +Italians could find nothing in him to exaggerate; they could not make +a legendary figure of him because the qualities he possessed were +qualities they could not comprehend. The only thing that redeemed +him in their eyes was his reputation as a killer. + +Rico was brave enough, but he did not flaunt his bravery like Kid Bean. +Rico was cunning enough, but cunning was not an obsession with him as +it was with Sam Vettori. Rico was capable of sudden audacity, but even +his audacity had a sort of precision and was entirely without the dash +of Ottavio’s. + +Rico, while he was small and pale, was capable of great endurance, +but this endurance of his was nothing compared to Killer Pepi’s +inhuman vitality. Rico’s great strength lay in his single-mindedness, +his energy and his self-discipline. The Little Italians could not +appreciate qualities so abstract. + +The men that were considered his rivals were really not to be compared +with him. Killer Pepi was strong and courageous, but he was very +erratic and a drug-addict. Ottavio Vettori was daring enough and cool +in a tight place, he could shoot straight and he feared nothing, but +he was light-minded, dissipated his energies on all sorts of follies, +and ran after every woman that looked at him. Joe Sansone, though +brave enough and dependable when it came to a sudden action, was a +periodic drunkard, and, generally speaking, nervous and unreliable. +Sam Vettori, a good man once, had let his congenital lethargy and his +congenital love of trickery overcome him; he had become petty and had +entirely lost the initiative which, years ago, had put him at the head +of the gang. Now he was not even taken seriously by the men he had once +led, and but for Rico’s authority, he would have sunken into obscurity. + +The case of Sam Vettori was a strange one, without its parallel in gang +annals. In Little Italy there is no such thing as abdication unless it +is accompanied by flight. The old gang leader who is superseded has +two alternatives: flight or death. Sam had escaped both. His growing +inability to make decisions had lost him his power, but it had also +saved his life. Rico did not consider him dangerous. But that was not +all. Rico considered him useful. That saved him from flight. With the +proper guidance, Sam Vettori was an asset to any gang. He was wise and +he knew the ropes. + +Sam was docile; not that his hatred for Rico had abated; but +things were breaking good, money was rolling in, and Sam loved money +above all things. The Vettori gang had never known such prosperity +before. Sam was quick to see where his advantage lay. Rico could be +killed. Scabby, who hated Rico for some fancied slight and who, for +this reason, was faithful to Sam, would have done it. But what would +have been the good of that? Sam knew that he was through as a gang +leader. With Rico dead, there would be a mad scramble for leadership. +Besides, Rico had the devil’s own luck, and Scabby might fail. If he +failed, Scabby’s life and his own wouldn’t be worth a plugged dime. +No, Sam Vettori accepted a somewhat odd situation philosophically and +prospered. + + + II + +Blondy Belle lolled back in her chair and put her fat hands on the +table. Rico sat opposite her with his hat tilted over his eyes. + +“Well,” said Blondy Belle, “I guess that’s it, ain’t it, Rico?” + +Rico nodded. + +“I told you not to give that bird a chance. He thinks you’re soft.” + +Rico smiled and twisted his diamond ring round and round. + +“He raised the split to fifty percent, and the books were straight.” + +“Well,” said Blondy, “he couldn’t stand prosperity. Listen, you’re +gonna let him have it, ain’t you?” + +Blondy hated Little Arnie so that she couldn’t sleep at night. She +couldn’t understand Rico’s lenience. + +“No,” said Rico. + +“Hell,” said Blondy, “you’re getting soft.” + +“Aw, can that,” said Rico; “you want me to get my neck stretched over a +dirty double-crosser that ain’t worth a good bullet? Listen, I’m gonna +run that bird out of town.” + +Blondy was disgusted. She started to get to her feet, but Rico reached +across the table and pushed her back into her chair. + +“Sit down,” he said, “and cut the funny stuff. If you women ain’t +awful! Use your head, that’s what you got it for.” + +Blondy sulked. Across the room the orchestra started up and couples +crowded out into the roped-off dance floor. + +“Don’t they ever get sick of dancing?” said Blondy, in a bad temper. + +Rico got to his feet. + +“Listen,” he said, “get yourself a cab and beat it. Go home and take +some aspirin and hit the hay. If you’d lay off that bad liquor you +wouldn’t always be beefing.” + +Blondy looked at Rico for a moment, then she said: + +“Aw, sit down, Rico. I’ll snap out of it.” + +“No,” said Rico, “I got business to look after and I’m getting sick of +this beefing. See, I’m getting sick. Any more of this kind of stuff and +I’m gonna get me another woman. Hell, I might as well talk to Flaherty +as you.” + +Blondy got to her feet without speaking. Rico never kidded; he meant +what he said. Blondy was not used to men like Rico. She often +wondered why it was she couldn’t seem to get any hold on him. + +Silently they walked around the little, roped-off dance floor. Rico +told one of the waiters to get him a cab, then, to pass the time, he +started putting nickels in a slot machine. After the third nickel, the +bell rang and Rico won fifty cents; on the sixth nickel he won again. + +“Ain’t that good!” said Rico. + +He called the man behind the counter. + +“Say,” he said, “have you seen anybody fooling with this machine?” + +The man nodded. + +“Yes, sir,” he said, “I seen Ottavio doing something to it.” + +Rico laughed. + +“Can you beat that petty crook! He’ll be robbing blind men next. Say, +tell Sam to get all the machines overhauled. What the hell! He might as +well hand out nickels over the counter.” + +Blondy laughed, glad of this opportunity to put on a change of front. + +“Boy, you don’t miss anything,” she said. + +“Well,” said Rico, serious, “what’s the use of letting somebody gyp +you?” + +The waiter they had sent for the cab came to tell them that it was +outside. + +Blondy put her hand on Rico’s arm. + +“Listen, wise boy,” she said, “you got the right dope about that Little +Arnie business. Run him out, that’s O.K., but do it up brown.” + +“You watch,” said Rico. + +He put her in the cab. + +“Gonna give me a ring tonight, Rico?” she asked. + +“Can’t say.” + +“Well, don’t let me ketch you with any more dark hairs on your coat.” + +“Can that!” said Rico. + +Blondy slammed the cab door. Rico stood and watched the cab till it +disappeared. Blondy was just like any other woman. Now she had got +to the grand rush stage. Always beefing about something. Rico stood +looking down the street. It was hot and the city sweltered, but now and +then you could feel a breath of lake wind. He looked up at the +sky. Stars everywhere. + +“It’s a swell night,” said Rico. + +Contrary to custom, he decided to walk down to the news-stand and get +a paper. Since his rise, he seldom went out unaccompanied; never at +night. Otero, Killer Pepi and Bat Carillo had constituted themselves +his body-guard and one of them was always within calling distance. +They were jealous of this privilege and sometimes quarreled among +themselves. But the night tempted Rico; the atmosphere of The Palermo +was vile, and the lake breeze was fresh and cool. + +He had gone scarcely half a block when a large touring-car with the +curtains closed passed him. He saw the car, noticing especially the +closed curtains and the fact that the driver was hugging the curb, +and, fearing the worst, he looked about for a shelter, but, as the car +passed him and went on, he paid no further attention to it. Stopping in +front of a lighted drugstore window he took out his watch and looked at +it. One o’clock! Kid Bean and the Killer ought to be back any minute +now. Suddenly he looked up. The big touring car had turned and was +coming back at full speed with its exhaust roaring. Rico cursed himself +for his carelessness and reached under his armpit for his gun. But the +car was abreast of him now and three guns blazed. Rico felt a searing +pain in his shoulder and fell to the ground. His gun was stuck in its +holster and he couldn’t get it out. One of the men leaned out of the +car and emptied his gun at Rico, who, helpless on the ground, heard the +bullets sing. + +“A goddam fine shot you are!” said Rico. + +The big touring-car turned a corner and disappeared. Rico got to his +feet and walked into the drugstore. The screen-door banged behind +him and the clerk, who had been lying down behind the counter, got +unsteadily to his feet. + +“My God,” he stammered, “what was all the popping for?” + +Then he noticed that there was a torn place on the shoulder of Rico’s +coat. + +“Was they after you, mister?” he asked. + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “I got brushed. Give me a roll of bandages.” + +The clerk stood there with his mouth open. People began to come +into the store. Some of them knew who Rico was and stood staring at him. + +“They put a bullet through my window,” said the clerk. + +“Listen,” said Rico, “go get me a package of bandages.” + +The clerk finally came to himself and went for the bandages. A crowd +had gathered in the street and now there were so many people in the +drugstore that the people on the outside couldn’t get in. Rico stood +with his back to the counter, watching. Blood had begun to drip from +his coat-sleeve. Before the clerk returned with the bandages, Jastrow, +the famous Little Italy cop, pushed his way through the crowd, followed +almost immediately by Joe Massara. + +“Well,” said Jastrow, “somebody finally put one in you, did they, Rico?” + +“Yeah,” said Rico. + +Joe Massara came over and put his hand on Rico’s arm. Joe’s face was +white. + +“Hurt you much, boss?” + +“No,” said Rico; “what the hell you doing way over here?” + +“I got tipped off,” said Joe. “I couldn’t get you on the phone and I +began to get nervous. We’d’ve made it only my cab driver got hooked for +speeding.” + +“Who gave you the tip?” Jastrow demanded. + +“Go press the bricks,” said Rico, “this ain’t your funeral.” + +Jastrow laughed. + +“Rico,” he said, “don’t you know that the Old Man’s taken an awful +interest in you?” + +“Well, tell him the cops couldn’t get me no other way so they hired a +couple of gunmen.” + +Joe laughed. Jastrow laughed also and taking out his notebook began to +write in it. The clerk came with the bandages. Joe took them from him +and paid him. Before they could get started, Killer Pepi and Otero came +shoving their way through the crowd. + +“Hello, boys,” said Jastrow, looking up from his little book, “your +boss got nudged by a hunk of lead.” + +“So they tell me,” said the Killer. + +Rico said: + +“Let’s get the hell out of here.” + +Jastrow went in front, clearing the way, followed by Otero and Killer +Pepi, who had Rico between them. Joe brought up the rear. People were +lined to the car-tracks; lights blazed in all the houses along the +street, and men hung from the lamp-posts. When they came out of the +store, the crowd was so thick that they were unable to get any farther. +Jastrow took out his nightstick and flourished it, but the sight of it +was enough, the crowd made a path. + +As they walked along Joe came up close to Rico and whispered: + +“Little Arnie.” + +Rico nodded. Pepi heard Joe. + +“Yeah,” he said, “and I’m gonna plug him tonight.” + +“There won’t be no plugging,” said Rico. + +“Aw, hell,” said Pepi. + +Otero was excited. + +“Yes, yes, Rico,” he cried. + +“Shut up, you birds,” said Rico; “who the hell’s running this show?” + +A crowd was waiting for them in front of The Palermo. Bat Carillo +and Ottavio Vettori began to yell as soon as they saw that Rico was on +his feet. + +Jastrow turned around. + +“Well, I guess I done my duty.” + +“Sure,” said Rico, “come in and have a drink.” + +“Nothing doing,” said Jastrow, then he shouted: “You birds quit your +damn yelling and get in off the sidewalk.” + +Everybody laughed. They all liked Jastrow, who had the reputation +of being on the square. Rico went in escorted by a mob of Little +Italians. In the club people were standing on the tables; the orchestra +was playing loudly; and Sam Vettori, in the middle of the deserted +dance-floor, was waving his arms wildly and bellowing. + +When they saw Rico there was a tumult. + +“Rico! Rico! Rico!” + +Killer Pepi and Otero, intoxicated by the excitement, grabbed each +other and began to dance. Joe waved the bandages. Rico took off his hat +and smiled. + +On the way up the stairs Rico turned to Joe and said: + +“Go get The Sheeny.” + +Killer Pepi took Rico by the arm. + +“He’s upstairs now, boss,” he said; “the Kid got plugged.” + +“How’d you make out?” Rico inquired. + +“O.K.,” said Killer Pepi; “we was making a get-away on the third stand +when one of the guys plugged the Kid. He ain’t hurt much. Just skinned +him.” + +Killer Pepi and Kid Bean had robbed twenty-five filling-stations in the +last two weeks. + +“All right,” said Rico, “you guys have been on the up and up. Split the +money two ways.” + +“That’s the talk, boss,” said the Killer. + +Otero knocked at the door. Joe Sansone’s face appeared at the grating, +then the door swung open. + +The Sheeny was working on Kid Bean. The Kid was lying on the card +table, smoking a cigarette. His shirt was off and there was a smear of +blood on his hairy chest. When he saw Rico he said: + +“They damn near hit the target, boss.” + +He pointed to a pierced heart tattooed on his chest. He was as proud of +his tattooing as a Maori chief. + +“The boss got plugged,” said Pepi. + +“What!” yelled the Kid, sitting up; “go fix him up, Sheeny.” + +He gave The Sheeny a push. But Rico said: + +“Finish up the Kid first. I can wait.” + +“Only jist got to bandage him yet,” said The Sheeny with his +ingratiating smile. + +The Sheeny was a graduate doctor, but he had been sent up for an +illegal operation and his license had been revoked. He said his name +was Lazarro, but nobody believed him and everybody referred to him +simply as The Sheeny. + +Rico took off his coat and shirt, and sat waiting. His wound had +stopped bleeding. + +Joe Massara came over and stood by his chair. Joe’s big cut for an +inside job had pulled him back to the fold. He never talked any +more about quitting the racket. The Courtney affair had blown over +apparently, and he had regained his confidence. + +“Joe,” said Rico, “how come they gave you the tip?” + +“Well,” said Joe, “I ain’t sure, but I think it was an outsider that +didn’t know nobody but me. He sure had the dope all right. He said the +guys were gonna park at twelve. They didn’t expect you out till two or +three.” + +“A fine bunch of gunmen Arnie picked!” + +“Yeah,” said Joe. + +The Kid climbed off the table and stood feeling his chest. + +“Boy, I thought I was plugged for sure.” + +“They just bounce off of you,” said Pepi. + +The Sheeny began to bathe Rico’s wound. + +“’Tain’t much,” he said, “but it pays to be careful.” + +When The Sheeny had got Rico bandaged, Rico put on his shirt and sat +smoking. Bat Carillo and Ottavio Vettori, whom he had sent for, came in +and sat down beside him. The Sheeny put on his hat. + +“Well,” he said, smiling at Rico, “I guess I’m done. If you guys have +any trouble with them wounds let me know.” + +Rico got his billfold and gave The Sheeny a fifty. + +“Thank you! Thank you!” said The Sheeny, bowing. + +Joe Sansone let him out. + +Rico said: + +“Now, listen, you birds, tonight’s the big clean-up. If these guys want +trouble, why, that’s just what we’re looking for.” + +“You bet,” said Killer Pepi. + +“Now,” Rico went on, “I got things fixed with Joe Peeper and I’m gonna +to give Little Arnie the grand rush right away. I want Killer Pepi and +Otero and Ottavio to go with me.” + +“How about me?” demanded Joe Sansone. + +“You too, Joe. And you, Bat, I want you to take your gang and smash up +Jew Mike’s. Run everybody out and then smash the place. If Little Arnie +wants trouble, why that’s what we got the most of. Got it?” + +“O.K.,” said Bat, “how about the rods?” + +“Don’t use ’em,” said Rico; “Jew Mike’s yellow and he won’t put up no +fight.” + +“Them guys of mine sure are hard to hold on to,” said Carillo, +grinning. + +“That’s your job,” said Rico. “We got to watch this plugging stuff with +Flaherty on our trail.” + +“O.K., boss,” said Carillo. + + + III + +When the doorman saw Rico get out of the automobile he stood stunned, +then, pulling himself together, he made an attempt to run. But Pepi +crossed the pavement in two strides, grabbed him by the collar and +pushed him ahead of him up the stairs. + +“Listen, Handsome,” said Pepi, “you tell the look-out we’re O.K. or +they’ll bury you.” + +At the head of the stairs the doorman spoke to the look-out through the +shutter. + +“These birds are all right,” he said. + +The look-out opened the door and Pepi shoved a gun against him. + +“Turn your back, Buddy,” said Pepi, “and march straight ahead of +me.” + +Rico, followed by Joe Sansone, Ottavio Vettori, and Otero, climbed the +long flight of stairs and entered the lobby. The lobby was deserted +except for two or three couples. Beyond it, through a big arched +doorway, they could see the crowded roulette wheels. Rico caught up +with Pepi and said to the doorman: + +“Where’s Joe Peeper?” + +The doorman had an agonized look. He was sure they were going to kill +him. He just stood there, unable to force himself to speak. + +“Say,” said Pepi, “speak up.” + +The doorman pointed to a door. + +“He’s in with the boss, is he?” said Rico. + +The doorman nodded. + +“Yeah,” said the look-out, eager to get in good, “Joe’s in there with +the boss and a couple of other guys.” + +“All right,” said Rico, “now, Pepi, if the door’s locked, do your +stuff.” + +Pepi could force the heaviest door with his shoulder. + +Joe Sansone tried the door; it was locked. + +“Now,” said Rico, “Pepi’ll force the door. You cover him, Joe, in case +somebody in there gets nervous and pulls a gat. I’ll follow you. Otero, +you stay out here and don’t let nobody in. You watch this pair of hard +guys here, Ottavio.” Rico jerked his thumb toward the look-out and the +doorman. + +“You don’t have to watch us,” said the doorman. + +They all laughed. + +“All right, Pepi,” said Rico. + +Pepi hunched his shoulders and flung himself against the door. It +opened with a crash. They saw four startled men rise half way out of +their chairs and stand staring. Joe Peeper cried: + +“It’s Rico!” + +Pepi was on his hands and knees in the middle of the room, but Joe +Sansone stepped in behind him and covered the four men with his big +automatic. Rico came in, took off his hat and bowed. + +“Hello, Arnie,” he said; “how’s business?” + +Little Arnie sat with his mouth slightly open. As a rule Little +Arnie was imperturbable. He hid an excess of both cunning and timidity +behind a cold, repellent, sallow Jewish mask. But this cyclonic entry +was too much for him. His mask had slipped, revealing a pale, terrified +countenance. + +“Well,” he said, “what’s the game?” + +Joe Peeper, who was in Rico’s pay, said: + +“Pull up a chair, you guys.” + +Pepi found two chairs. Joe Sansone and Rico sat down; Pepi stood behind +Rico’s chair. + +Little Arnie turned to the two men sitting beside him. They were +strangers to Rico and they looked tough. + +“I don’t know what this is all about,” said Arnie, “but it’s a private +row, so you guys better beat it.” + +Rico said very quietly: + +“Nobody’s gonna leave this room.” + +One of the toughs shouted: + +“Think not, wop! Well, who the hell’s gonna stop us.” + +Before Rico could reply, Joe Sansone said: + +“Me, I’m gonna stop you, see! And I ain’t gentle. I’m just itching +to put some lead in a couple of hard guys.” + +“Yeah,” said Rico, smiling, “you guys are invited to this private +party.” + +The two men looked at Arnie, who sat tapping his desk with a pencil. + +“Say,” said one, “you sure got a fine bunch of friends, Arnie.” + +“Yeah,” said Arnie. + +Pepi laughed and said: + +“Yeah, he sure has. Arnie, you ought to had better sense than to get a +couple of outside yaps to bump Rico off.” + +Nobody said anything. Arnie took out a cigar and lit it. The two +strangers sat staring at Rico. Pepi sat staring at them. Finally he +asked: + +“Where you guys from?” + +The men looked uneasily at Arnie. Little by little they were losing +their nerve. + +“Speak up,” said Pepi, “where you guys from?” + +“We’re from Detroit,” said one of the men. + +“Where the hell’s that?” Joe Sansone inquired. “I never heard of it.” + +“Say,” said Pepi, “don’t you know that tough guys like you +oughtn’t to be running around loose. No sir. You’re liable to get +arrested for firing a rod in the city limits.” + +“Listen,” said one of the men from Detroit, “what you guys got against +us? We ain’t done nothing. We just got in.” + +They were thoroughly intimidated. + +Arnie, who had recovered his poise, said: + +“Well, Rico, what’s the talk? Let’s have it.” + +Pepi and Joe Sansone both started to talk at once, but Rico motioned +for them to be quiet. + +“Arnie,” said Rico, “you’re through. If you ain’t out of town by +tomorrow morning, you won’t never leave town except in a box.” + +Arnie said nothing but sat staring at the smoke rising from his cigar. + +“In the first place,” Rico went on, “you been double-crossing me for +two months. In the second place you hire these bums here to pop me. Now +I guess that’s about all.” + +Arnie laughed. + +“Rico,” he said, “somebody has sure been stringing you. Why, you +ought to know I wouldn’t double-cross you. Hell, that wouldn’t help me +none.” + +“Can that,” said Rico. “Your number’s up, Jew. Take it like a man.” + +Arnie’s face got red. + +“Listen, Rico, if you think you can muscle into this joint you’re off +your nut.” + +“All right, Joe,” said Rico, jerking his head in Joe Peeper’s +direction, “spill it.” + +Joe Peeper looked sideways at Arnie. + +“The books’re crooked, Rico,” said Joe Peeper; “he’s been gypping you +out of half your split every week.” + +The Detroit toughs began to shift about uneasily. + +“Well, you two-timing bastard,” said Arnie. + +Rico laughed. + +“Arnie,” he said, “that’s that. Here’s the dope. You get your hat and +beat it. Leave the burg. If I ever hear about you being in town again, +why, I’m gonna turn the Killer loose on you.” + +“Yeah,” said Pepi, “and I never did like kikes.” + +“I ain’t any too fond of them, myself,” said Joe Sansone. + +Arnie meditated. Rico said: + +“I been square with you, Arnie, but you couldn’t stand prosperity, +that’s all. So take it standing up.” + +“What the hell else can he do?” Pepi demanded. + +“I’ll tell you what I can do,” said Arnie, “I can have a talk with Mr. +Flaherty.” + +Arnie studied Rico carefully to see what effect this would have. But +Rico merely smiled at him. + +“Getting pretty low, Arnie,” he said, “when you take the bulls in with +you.” Then he paused and leaned forward in his chair. “If you go to see +Mr. Flaherty you better have an alibi because he might ask you about +Limpy John.” + +Arnie dropped his cigar and sat staring into space, his hands lying +palms up on the table. + +“All over but the shouting,” said Joe Sansone, “somebody better throw +in a towel. But I don’t suppose the dirty bums in Detroit ever heard of +towels.” + +“Aw, lay off of us,” said one of the Detroit toughs. + +Joe Sansone stared at him. + +“Say, Gyp-the-Blood, I bet they think you’re a pretty hard bird where +you live, don’t they?” + +Arnie turned to Joe Peeper. + +“Well, Joe,” he said, “you sure put the skids under me.” + +“Sure I did,” said Joe Peeper; “you thought you could bat me around and +make me like it.” + +Pepi laughed. + +“Arnie,” he said, “you better go back to Detroit with your boy friends.” + +When Rico and his men left Arnie’s joint Joe Peeper followed them. As +soon as they reached the pavement, Joe walked up to Rico and said: + +“You sore at me, Rico?” + +All Rico’s men stopped and stood staring at Joe, wondering what his +game was. + +“You guys get in the car,” said Rico. + +They all got in except Pepi, who stood with his back against the car, +his right hand in his pocket. Pepi didn’t trust anybody who had ever +been mixed up with Little Arnie. + +“What’s on your mind, Joe?” Rico demanded. + +“I thought you acted like you was sore at me,” said Joe Peeper; “honest +to God, Rico, I didn’t know nothing about them Detroit bums. I didn’t +know what Arnie was up to. Lord, you know I wouldn’t double-cross you +after all you done for me.” + +“Well, who said you did?” + +“Nobody,” said Joe, “only it looked funny, and I thought maybe you guys +had got a wrong notion. I’d be a sap to pull anything like that.” + +Rico laughed. + +“Forget it,” he said. + +Rico started to get into the automobile, but Joe took hold of his arm. + +“How about me, Rico?” he said. “If I stick around here they’ll bump me +off sure.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico; “say, them guys wouldn’t bump nobody off now. But +get in. I can use you, Joe.” + +Joe got in the back seat with Otero and Ottavio Vettori. He talked to +them all the way back to The Palermo, trying to get in good with them, +but they said nothing. + + + IV + +The next day in the society column of one of the Chicago papers there +appeared a small item, which read: + + “Mr. Arnold Worch, of the North Side, has just left for Detroit where + he intends to spend the summer. He was accompanied by two of his + Detroit friends, who have been in Chicago for a short stay.” + +This was the work of Ottavio Vettori. The underworld was convulsed +and thousands of extra copies of the paper were sold. The clipping +was to be found pasted up in all the barrooms, gambling joints, and +dance-halls. Rico and Ottavio Vettori had become famous over night. + +Little Arnie wasn’t the only one who left town. Several of Little +Arnie’s henchmen, who had been closely connected with the attempted +killing, followed him into exile. Joseph Pavlovsky, the doorman, who +had driven the car, went to Hammond, where, on the money Arnie had +given him, he opened a speak-easy. Pippy Coke, who with the two +Detroit gunmen had done the shooting, went with Pavlovsky, and they +were followed by two croupiers, who had shadowed Rico. + +Arnie’s gang was smashed and the Little Italians took over a territory +they hadn’t controlled since the days of Monk De Angelo. + +Arnie had come to Chicago from New York about five years ago. His +reputation had got so bad in New York that no one would do business +with him. He came west with a small stake and was lucky enough to +arrive at just the right time. Kips Berger, also formerly of New York +and once one of Arnie’s pals, had gone broke and was willing to sell +out his big gambling joint for practically nothing. Arnie bought it +and prospered. This gambling joint was in a neutral zone, touching +Little Italy on the south and the vast territory that Pete Montana +controlled on the north. Arnie was acute enough to see his advantage. +He worked hard at his job and in a little while had consolidated his +territory. But he was not a good gang chief: first, because he was +a coward, second, because his closest associate couldn’t trust him, +third, because he was inclined to lose his head in an emergency. +His lieutenant, Jew Mike, was a tougher and more violent replica of +his chief. Between them they bossed the territory, but under them the +gang never prospered and their hold was at best precarious. They held +on only because there was little or no opposition. Their gangsters were +a poor lot and were content to take small splits. On the south, Sam +Vettori was slipping and his lethargy prevented him interfering; on the +north the great Pete Montana was magnificently indifferent. + +Arnie had been slipping for the last year or so, and Rico’s sudden +rise had accelerated his decline. Arnie, fearing the worst, committed +blunder after blunder; first, he made advances to Rico, then, getting +Rico’s protection for a thirty percent split, things looked too easy +and he began to double-cross him. Lastly, although he should have known +better, he made the tactical error of trying to get Rico killed. If he +had succeeded his position would not have been improved; he would have +been worse off, because the Vettori gang would have made short work of +him. + +No one regretted the passing of Little Arnie. He had never been +straight with anybody. No one could depend on him and he had none of +the qualities that go to make up a good gang chief. The wonder is that +he lasted as long as he did. + +Arnie’s fall was the signal for a series of minor tumbles. Jew Mike, +whose joint Bat Carillo and his gang had demolished, fled to the South +Side, where he opened a couple of vice-joints. Kid Burg moved to +Cicero, and Squint Maschke, after a short exile, offered his services +to Rico, who gave him twenty-four hours to make a second disappearance. +With the fall of Arnie’s three lieutenants, the last vestiges of his +rule vanished. + + + V + +Otero helped Rico out of his coat, then, while Rico doused his face at +the wash stand, he sat down, tipped back his chair and rolled himself a +cigarette. + +“You better lay down, Rico, and get some rest,” said Otero; “you ain’t +looking so good.” + +“I’m O.K.,” said Rico. + +But this was bravado. He had slept only four hours in the last two +days; his face was pale and drawn and he suffered from an intermittent +fever. His wound, though a slight one, was not healing properly, and +The Sheeny had warned him that he had better take it easy. Inactivity +at any time was abhorrent to Rico; now it was impossible. His big +chance had come. Nothing could stop him now but a hunk of lead in the +right spot. + +Rico, a little unsteady on his legs, stood staring at Otero. + +“You’re sure making yourself at home,” he said. + +“Well,” said Otero, “I think I stay.” + +Rico laughed. + +“Listen, I don’t need no nurse. Beat it.” + +“No,” said Otero, tossing away his cigarette and starting to roll +another one, “I think I stay.” + +Rico walked over to the bed and stood staring at it. If he had been +alone he would have flopped down and been asleep in an instant. + +“Think I’ll catch a little sleep,” he said; “you beat it, Otero.” + +Otero didn’t say anything. He finished rolling his cigarette, lit +it, and tipped his hat down over his eyes. + +“Goddam it,” cried Rico, “beat it! I’m sick of you trailing me like a +Chicago Avenue bull. I ain’t gonna drop in my tracks.” + +“All right,” said Otero, “you lay down. I finish my cigarette.” + +Rico threw himself on the bed, fully dressed except for his coat. He +put his hands under his head and tried to keep awake by staring at the +ceiling. But in a moment he was asleep. + +Otero sat looking at his chief. All along he’d known. Rico was a great +man like Pancho Villa. Even in Toledo when he and Rico were sticking up +filling-stations, he knew. A little, skinny young fellow with a little +mustache, sure, that’s what everybody saw. But everybody didn’t have +the eyes of Otero. + +Otero flung his second cigarette on the floor and rolled another one. +Rico turned from side to side in his sleep and mumbled. His face was +white and drawn. Otero got to his feet and went over to look at him. +No, Rico was not well. Otero put his hand on Rico’s forehead. Fever! He +stood looking down at his chief, shaking his head. + +“Like hell!” cried Rico; “you can’t hand Rico none of that bunk. No +Irish bastard’ll ever put no cuffs on Rico.” + +Otero went back to his chair and sat dozing under his big hat, while +Rico tossed from side to side and talked. + +Someone knocked at the door. Otero was slow in opening his eyes, but +Rico sat up, stared for a moment, then jumped out of bed and got his +automatic. + +“Go see who it is,” he said to Otero; “don’t open the door. Ask them.” + +Otero went over to the door and called: + +“Who’s there?” + +There was a short silence, then a voice with a marked Italian accent +said: + +“A couple of right guys. We want to see Rico.” + +Otero turned and looked at Rico, who came over to the door. + +“Listen, you right guys,” said Rico, “I’ll give you a one-two-three to +get out of that hall and then I’m gonna start pumping lead. Got it?” + +There was a pause. + +“Rico,” said another voice, a deeper voice with no trace of an +accent, “you don’t know me, but I’m Pete Montana and I want to talk +turkey.” + +Otero and Rico exchanged a stupefied look. + +“Pete,” said Rico, “do you know the Big Boy?” + +“Sure.” + +“What’s his name in full?” + +“James Michael O’Doul.” + +“All right, Otero,” said Rico, “let ’em in.” + +Otero unbarred the door. Rico, with his gun still leveled, stood a +little behind the door, watching. + +Pete Montana, followed by Ritz Colonna, his lieutenant, came +in. Montana, in private life Pietro Fontano, was a big, solemn, +respectable-looking Italian. He was dressed very quietly, wore no +jewelry, and carried a cane. Colonna, once a ham prize-fighter, was a +small, bull-necked man with a battered, dark face. His clothes were +shabby and he wore an old cap on the side of his head. + +Montana and Rico stood measuring each other. Rico looked small and +frail beside the robust Montana, but Rico wasn’t impressed, for Montana +looked fat and puffy, like Sam Vettori. Otero barred the door. + +“Get a couple of chairs, Otero,” said Rico. + +Otero dragged up the only two chairs in the room and Montana and +Colonna sat down. Otero squatted on his heels with his back to the wall +and Rico sat on the bed. + +Montana took out a monogrammed cigar-case and passed it around, then he +selected one of the cigars himself and cut off the end with a little +gold cutter on his watch chain. + +“Mopping up, ain’t you, Rico?” asked Montana, who kept his eyes lowered. + +“Well,” said Rico, “Arnie was double-crossing me.” + +“He wasn’t no good,” said Colonna; “I was just aching to bump that bird +off.” + +Montana motioned for him to be quiet. + +“They slung some lead, didn’t they, Rico?” + +“Yeah, and I stopped some of it. Nothing to shout about.” + +“If he’d’ve got you, his number was up,” said Montana, “you know, I +been watching you ever since you muscled in on Sam Vettori.” + +“Yeah?” + +“Sure thing. We been taking an interest in you, ain’t we, Ritz?” + +Ritz grinned. + +“That’s the word,” he said. + +“Sure,” said Montana, “you’re on the up and up with us.” + +“Well,” said Rico, “that’s O.K. with me.” + +Montana looked up at Rico suddenly. + +“Any guy that can muscle in on Sam Vettori and Little Arnie is on the +up and up with me. The Big Boy’s with me there.” + +Rico smoked and said nothing. But he wondered what the game was. Was +Pete Montana getting soft like Sam Vettori? Could it be possible that +the great Pete Montana was turning sap? All this palaver and softie +talk. Rico’s head began to buzz. + +“Look,” said Montana, “I used to work Arnie’s territory myself, but it +slowed down, you know what I mean. It wasn’t worth nothing when Kips +Berger had it, and after Arnie got it I didn’t pay no attention. I got +all I can handle, ain’t I, Ritz?” + +“That’s the word,” said Ritz. + +“Yeah,” said Montana, “by rights that territory’s mine, get the idea? +I could get all the protection I wanted, but I don’t muscle in on no +right guy, see? Kiketown’s yours, Rico.” + +“Much obliged,” said Rico; “I ain’t looking for no trouble with you, +Pete.” + +“That’s the talk,” said Montana; then he turned to Ritz: “see, Ritz, +you had the wrong steer.” + +“Yeah, I had the wrong steer,” said Ritz. + +Montana turned back to Rico. + +“Yeah,” he said, “some wise guys was giving Ritz a lot of bull. Ritz +said you was trying to muscle in on my territory.” + +Rico thought he was dreaming. So this was the great Pete Montana. A guy +that couldn’t turn over in bed without getting plastered all over the +front page. All that softie stuff was a front. Pete Montana was scared. + +“No,” said Rico, “them guys don’t know what they’re talking about.” + +Montana smiled blandly. + +“Maybe we can team up on a job or two, Rico. I like your work. The +Big Boy’s no fool and he thinks you’re the goods. Yeah, maybe we can +team up, but I ain’t making no promises. Only this. I ain’t looking for +no split on Arnie’s lay-out. She’s yours.” + +“Don’t forget the hide-out, chief,” said Ritz. + +Montana smiled again. + +“By God, I sure enough did forget it. Yeah, Rico, some of Ritz’s boys +has got a hide-out a half a block from Arnie’s joint. That’s O.K., +ain’t it?” + +Rico’s manner changed. He lost his affability and his face became +serious. + +“Well,” he said, “as long as there ain’t no cutting in. I won’t stand +for no cutting in.” + +Montana looked at Ritz. Ritz said: + +“Hell, there won’t be no cutting in.” + +“What do you say, Pete?” asked Rico. + +Montana meditated, pulling at one of his thick lips. Otero sat watching +Rico. Caramba! Here was little Rico telling the big Pete Montana where +to get off. Otero never took his eyes off Rico’s face. + +“Well,” said Montana, “they’re my men and I’m behind them. If +there’s any cutting in, why, I’ll settle with you, Rico. Christ, no use +for us to fight over a little thing like that. Anyway, if we get along, +I’ll put you in on the alcohol racket.” + +“All right,” said Rico, “you and me can do business, Pete.” + +Montana got up and offered Rico his hand. They pumped arms briefly. +Then Pete said: + +“Well, I guess we’ll saunter. But let me give you a tip, Rico. You’re +getting too much notice, get the idea? You got the bulls watching you. +I know a new guy has always got to expect that, but take it easy for a +while. They’ll go to sleep; they always do.” + +Rico admired Montana’s shiftiness, but he wasn’t fooled. Pete was +trying to tie him up, make him leery. + +“Much obliged,” said Rico; “a new guy has got a lot to learn.” + +Montana smiled blandly, certain he had scored. + +“Well,” said Montana, “so long. Maybe I’ll drop down to your new joint +and give it the once over some night.” + +“All right,” said Rico, “just let me know.” + +Otero unbarred the door. Montana started out; Ritz offered his +hand to Rico, then followed his chief. Otero barred the door. + +Rico stood in the middle of the room, staring into space. Otero said: + +“He ain’t so much.” + +Rico laughed out loud. + +“Otero,” he cried, “you said a mouthful.” + + + + + PART VI + + + I + +Rico felt small and unimportant in the Big Boy’s apartment. He was +intensely self-centered and as a rule surroundings made no impression +on him. But he had never seen anything like this before. He sat in the +big, panelled dining-room, eating cautiously, dropping his fork from +nervousness, and looking furtively about him. From time to time he +pulled at his high, stiff collar, and when he caught the Big Boy’s eye +he grinned. + +Joe Sansone had dressed him so that he would look presentable. It +had taken a good deal of management and tact, but Joe Sansone was a +stickler for clothes and persevered with Rico, who swore at him at +first and wouldn’t listen. + +“Look, boss,” he said, “you’re getting up in the world. Ain’t none +of us ever been asked to eat with the Big Boy at his dump. Hear what +I’m telling you. Nobody’s ever crashed the gates before but Pete +Montana. See what I mean? You don’t want the Big Boy to think you ain’t +got no class.” + +Joe had his own dress suit cleaned and pressed, and punctually at five +he presented himself at Rico’s door with the outfit under his arm. Rico +had resisted from the beginning; first, he balked at the suspenders, +then the starched shirt. Joe, laboring with the studs, the buttoned +shoes, the invincible collar, cursed and sweated. Rico resisted. But +Joe won. + +As Joe was ten pounds heavier than Rico, the dress suit was not +precisely a perfect fit, but as Joe said “men are wearing their clothes +a lot looser now.” To which Rico sardonically replied: “Yeah? Say, they +rig you up better than this in stir.” + +Finally Joe got Rico into his harness. Rico stamped about declaring +that he’d be goddamned if he’d go out looking like that. Why, the Big +Boy would think he was off his nut. + +“You look fine, boss,” said Joe. + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “all I need is a napkin over my arm.” + +But Joe moved Rico’s bureau out from its corner and tipped the +mirror so Rico could get a full length view of himself. He was won +over immediately. Why, honest to God, he looked like one of them rich +clubmen he read about in the magazines. The enormous white shirtfront, +the black silk coat lapels, the neatly-tied white tie dazzled him. + +“I guess I don’t look so bad,” he said to Joe; “we got plenty of time, +let’s go down to Sam’s place for a while.” + +Rico played with his dessert and looked about the room. The Big Boy +ate with gusto, smacking his lips. The magnificence of the Big Boy’s +apartment crushed Rico. He stared at the big pictures of old time guys +in their gold frames; at the silver and glass ware on the serving +table; at the high, carved chairs. Lord, why, it was like a hop dream. + +He shook his head slowly. + +“Some dump you got here,” he said. + +“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, glancing negligently about him, “and I sure +paid for it. See that picture over there?” He pointed to an imitation +♦Valesquez. “That baby set me back one hundred and fifty berries.” + +♦ “Valesquez” replaced with “Velázquez” + +Rico stared. + +“Jesus, one hundred and fifty berries for a picture!” + +“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, “but that ain’t nothing. See that bunch of +junk over there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the serving +table. “That stuff set me back one grand.” + +Rico stared. + +“One grand for that stuff?” + +“Sure,” said the Big Boy, “that’s the real thing. Only what the hell, +I say! A plate’s to eat off of, ain’t it? What’s the odds what it’s +made of? But I got a spell about two years ago. I had a pot full of +money and I thought, well, other guys that ain’t got as much dough as +I got put on a front, so why shouldn’t I? Sure, I could buy and sell +guys that’s got three homes and a couple of chugwagons. So I got a guy +down at a big store, you know, one of them decorators, to pick me out a +swell apartment and fix it up A-1. So he did. I got a library too and +a lot of other stuff that ain’t worth a damn. I was talking to a rich +guy the other day and he said I was a damn fool to buy real books +because he had a library twice as big as mine and dummy books. What the +hell! If a guy’s gonna have a library, why, I say do it right. So there +you are. I got so damn many books it gives me a headache just to look +at ’em through the glass. Shakespeare and all that stuff.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico, stupefied. + +A servant took away their dessert and brought coffee. Then he passed a +humidor full of cigars. Rico took one of the fat, black cigars, lit it, +and tipped his chair back. What a way to live! + +“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, “I got a lot of dough tied up in this dump. I +get rent free, though. Eschelman, the contractor, owns this dump and he +knows how I stand in the city. Boy, he puts up what he pleases and gets +away with it. See the idea, Rico? If a guy stands in with me, he owns +the burg.” + +“Sure,” said Rico, “you’re a big guy.” + +“I get him contracts, too,” said the Big Boy; “course I get mine out of +it, but I made that guy. When he come here from down state he didn’t +have an extra pair of pants, now he’s climbing. Yeah, if I had a +wife and a couple of kids, why, I’d build me a big house out in some +swell suburb, but as it is, I’d just as leave be here on one floor. I +got everything I need and then some.” + +“Sure,” said Rico. + +“Let’s go in the library,” said the Big Boy, “it’s more comfortable in +there.” + +The Big Boy told the servant to take their coffee into the library. +Then he got up and Rico followed him. The Big Boy put his hand on +Rico’s shoulder. + +“Kind of lit up yourself tonight, ain’t you, Rico?” + +“Yeah, I thought I better put on the monkey suit.” + +“That’s right, Rico. May as well learn now.” + +“Sure,” said Rico. + +The Big Boy motioned Rico to a chair, then sat down. Rico looked about +him at the great expanse of glass guarding tier after tier of books. +Lord, if a guy’d read that many books he’d sure know a lot! + +“Rico,” said the Big Boy, “let’s talk serious.” + +“All right,” said Rico. + +The Big Boy leaned forward in his chair and stared at Rico. + +“Listen,” he said, “I’m gonna talk and you ain’t gonna hear a word I +say, see, this is inside dope and if it gets out it’ll be just too bad +for somebody.” + +“You know me,” said Rico. + +“All right,” said the Big Boy; “get this: if I didn’t think a hell of +a lot of you I wouldn’t be asking you to eat with me. You’re on the +square, Rico, and you’re a comer, see. You got the nerve and you’re +a good, sober, steady guy. That’s what we need. Trouble with most of +these guys they ain’t got nothing from the collar up. O.K. Now, listen. +Pete Montana’s through.” + +Rico nearly leapt out of his chair. + +“Yeah?” + +“Now don’t get excited,” said the Big Boy, “because, when it gets +out, there’s gonna be hell to pay. Ritz Colonna and a couple of other +lowdown bums is gonna make a rush, see, and that means that +somebody’s gonna get hurt.” + +“Sure,” said Rico, settling back. + +“But not you,” said the Big Boy; “you’re gonna lay back and let them +dumb eggs bump each other off, then we’ll get our licks in, see? Pete’s +through. The Old Man’s gonna have a talk with him tomorrow or the next +day and Pete’s gonna mosey. He’s all swelled up, thinks he’s king and +all that stuff, but wait till the Old Man gets through with him. Why, +he can hang that guy. Besides that, he can turn the Federal guys loose +on him for peddling narcotics. And boy, how he peddles them! He built +that big house of his on ’em. Well, see how things are? I can’t spill +no more.” + +“Well,” said Rico, “I’m on.” + +“All right,” said the Big Boy, “but listen: I’m doing a hell of a lot +for you and when I get you planted I want plenty of service.” + +“You’ll sure get it,” said Rico. + +Rico, with the Big Boy’s cigar still between his teeth, lay back in the +taxi and stared out at the tangle of traffic on Michigan Boulevard. +Things were sure to God looking up! Five years ago he wasn’t +nobody to speak of; just a lonely yegg, sticking up chain-stores +and filling-stations. Chiggi had sure given him the right dope. He +remembered one night in Toledo when he was pretty low. There was a +blonde he used to meet at one of the call-houses and she sure did +satisfy him, but, boy, she had to have the coin on the nose or there +wasn’t nothing doing. Well, he didn’t have a red. He was just sitting +there in Chiggi’s thinking about the blonde, when Chiggi came over +and said: “Listen, kid, you got big town stuff in you. What you want +around here? Get somebody to stake you or hit the rods. Hell, don’t be +a piker.” Well, Chiggi staked him, but he blew the stake on the blonde, +oh, boy what a couple of days, and then he hit the rods with Otero. +Little Italy sure looked good to them. They didn’t have a good pair +of pants between them, and a bowl of mulligan tasted better than the +stuff he’d ate at the Big Boy’s. Well, here he was riding taxis and +hobnobbing with guys like James O’Doul, who paid one grand for a bunch +of crockery. Yeah, here he was! + +Rico saw nothing but success in the future. With the Big Boy +behind him he couldn’t be stopped, and when he once got some place he +knew how to stay there. Play square with the guys that are square with +you; the hell with everybody else. + +Rico smoked his cigar slowly (he had six more of them in his pocket), +and looked absently at the jam of traffic: taxis, Hispano-Suizas, +Fords, huge double-decked busses, leaning as they turned corners. +Rico dropped the cigar butt out the window. Lying back in his seat he +observed: + +“And I thought Pete Montana was such a hell of a guy!” + + + II + +Olga was only partly dressed when Joe burst in on her. She looked at +him, startled. + +“My Lord,” she said, “what makes you so pale, Joe?” + +“Got any liquor?” demanded Joe. + +Olga opened a drawer and handed him a flask. He tipped it up and took a +long pull, then he stood with the flask in his hand staring at the wall. + +“Joe,” Olga insisted, “what’s wrong with you?” + +Joe came to himself, screwed the top on the flask, and handed it back +to Olga. + +“Boy, I got a shock,” said Joe. + +Olga came over and put her arm around him. + +“Tell Olga all about it.” + +“Well,” said Joe, “I was finishing up my Pierrot dance, see, and you +know when it’s dark and they got the spot on you you can’t see nothing. +Well, I was circling the outside of the floor like I do before I take +that last leap when some dame at a corner table gives a yell, a hell of +a yell. Sibby hears the yell and switches on all the lights and here +I am, right in front of a dame that looks like she’s off her nut. She +was standing up and she had her hands on the table and she was staring +right at me. If I didn’t feel funny, boy! Well, there was a guy with +her and he kept asking her what was the matter, but she wouldn’t say +nothing. I thought she was gonna jump right on me, she looked so funny, +yeah, that dame sure looked funny.” + +Joe paused and meditated. Olga laughed. + +“Listen,” she said, “you better lay off the liquor.” + +“No, straight,” said Joe, “you know I kind of got the idea she +recognized me or something, but, hell, I never seen her before. She’s +an old dame, about forty, and she’s got peroxide hair. There was a guy +with her, a nice-looking guy, and he kept saying, ‘What’s the matter, +Nell, what’s the matter, Nell,’ but he couldn’t get nothing out of her.” + +Olga laughed again. + +“Well, this ain’t nothing to write home about,” she said. “I thought I +was gonna get a thrill. We better change bootleggers, Joe.” + +“Aw, lay off,” said Joe. “I’m telling you, you’d’ve got all the kick +you’re looking for if you’d heard that dame yell.” + +“Well, what happened?” demanded Olga, who was getting impatient. + +Joe got out the flask and took another pull at it before he answered +her. The color had come back into his face now and he felt much better. + +“Soon as the boss found out there was something wrong he came in +and asked this dame if he could do anything for her. And she says, +‘Yes, get me a taxi.’ The guy with her says, ‘What the devil, Nell.’ +And she says, ‘I want to go home.’ So they went out. Boy, the way that +dame looked at me, like I was, God, I don’t know what!” + +“Say, listen,” said Olga, “you been hitting the pipe?” + +“Aw, lay off,” said Joe; “that dame’s got something on her mind, see. +She’s got something on her mind.” + +Someone knocked. Olga called “come in” and a waiter opened the door and +bowed. + +“Mr. Willoughby wants to know if we can bring the table in now, Miss +Stassoff.” + +“Sure,” said Olga, “bring it in.” + +“Yes, ma’am,” said the waiter, then he cupped his hands and called down +the corridor: “Allez!” + +Joe lay down on the lounge and lit a cigarette. Olga went over to her +dressing-table, made up her face, and put on her Japanese kimono. + +Two waiters came in carrying a table; a third followed with a cloth and +silver. When the table was set one of the waiters said: + +“Mr. Willoughby wants to know if he can come back now.” + +“Sure,” said Olga, “tell him to come right back.” + +“Shall we start to serve?” + +“Yeah,” said Olga, “right away.” + +When the waiters had gone, Joe said: + +“I’m getting fed up with this Willoughby guy. He’s a dumb egg.” + +“Sure he’s dumb,” said Olga, “but I don’t hold that against him. What I +like about that bird is that he don’t get his hand stuck in his pocket +when the boy comes around with the bill.” + +“He sure don’t, that’s a fact,” said Joe, laughing. + +“Well, then don’t be so particular,” said Olga; “guys like him are few +and far between.” + +Willoughby tapped lightly on the door and then came in. He was freshly +shaven and he looked chubby and boyish. + +Joe got up and shook hands with him. Olga said: + +“Was you out front?” + +“Yes,” said Willoughby; “by the way, Joe, what was all the +commotion?” + +“See,” said Joe, turning to Olga. “She thought I was making it up, Mr. +Willoughby.” + +“No, he wasn’t making it up,” said Willoughby, serious. “I never heard +such a scream in my life.” + +“Don’t remind me,” said Joe; “boy, my hair stood straight up.” + +A waiter came in carrying a wine bucket, followed by another waiter +carrying the soup. + +“Well,” said Willoughby, “shall we monjay, as they say in France?” + +“Oui, monsieur,” said Olga. + +“Sure,” said Joe, “I’m ready for the feed-bag in any language.” + +They sat down. One of the waiters poured the wine. Willoughby held his +glass up to the light. + +“I hope you like this stuff,” he said, “it’s out of my own cellar.” + +“I’d like to sleep in that cellar,” said Olga. + +“Well,” said Willoughby, “you have a standing invitation.” + +They ate in silence for a moment, then Joe said: + +“Say, Mr. Willoughby, what you suppose was the matter with that dame?” + +“I couldn’t say.” + +“Oh, forget it, Joe,” said Olga, “she was probably full of hop.” + + + III + +Willoughby passed the cigarettes and they all left the table. Joe went +back to the lounge, Olga sat in one of the armchairs, and Willoughby +pulled up an ottoman and sat facing her. + +Willoughby hesitated before he said: + +“Olga, when we going to take that little trip?” + +“I don’t know,” said Olga. + +“What little trip?” asked Joe, looking at Olga. + +“Why, I got a cabin up in Wisconsin,” said Willoughby, “and I thought +before it got cold it would be nice for Olga to go up and take a rest.” + +“Yeah?” said Joe. + +As soon as Willoughby lowered his eyes, Olga winked at Joe. + +“Maybe I could pull it,” said Olga. + +“Sure,” said Joe, “Olga works too hard, that’s a fact. A little rest +wouldn’t hurt her none.” + +“That’s just what I was thinking,” said Willoughby. “She could sure get +a rest up there. I got a couple of nice motor boats and the fishing’s +great.” + +“Fishing!” said Olga, looking at Joe. + +“Well,” Willoughby considered, “maybe you wouldn’t care for that, but +there are any number of things you could do. Anyway, the air’s great, +nothing like this Chicago muck.” + +“Sounds good,” said Olga. + +The waiters came in to take away the table, but they were immediately +followed by DeVoss, who motioned them out. There was something so +strange about DeVoss’s actions that Joe sat up and stared at him. +DeVoss said: + +“Joe, there’s a couple of guys looking for you.” + +“Yeah?” said Joe. “What kind of guys?” + +“Bulls,” said DeVoss, “what you been up to?” + +Olga got to her feet and stood staring at DeVoss. Willoughby +exclaimed: + +“What’s all this! What’s all this!” + +Joe took an automatic from his hip pocket and put it in Olga’s +dressing-table. Olga took hold of DeVoss’s arm and said: + +“Tell them Joe ain’t here. Joe, honey, beat it. I’ll see if I can find +out what it’s all about.” + +Willoughby was staring stupefied at Joe. He pointed to the +dressing-table. + +“What do you carry that thing for?” he demanded. + +Olga said: + +“Oh, be quiet!” + +Joe grinned at Willoughby. + +“Just in case,” he said. + +“Listen, Olga,” said DeVoss, “this is serious. I could tell the way +they acted. I told them I didn’t think Joe was here but they just +laughed.” + +Joe stood undecided. + +“Joe,” DeVoss went on, “remember that time Mr. Rico was over here and a +couple of bulls shadowed him? Well, the big one’s here.” + +“Flaherty!” cried Joe. + +Olga gave Joe a push. + +“Beat it, Joe. You know them bulls. They’ll frame you.” + +“O.K., honey,” said Joe. + +“Why, Joe,” said Willoughby, “you mean to tell me you’re in some kind +of trouble?” + +“Oh, be quiet,” said Olga. + +Joe grabbed his hat from a chair and started for the door. + +“Goodbye, honey,” he said to Olga, “you’ll hear from me.” + +“Better face the music,” said Willoughby. + +“Go out through the kitchen,” said DeVoss. + +Joe opened the door but closed it immediately and said: + +“It’s all up. Here they come.” + +He looked in agony at Olga. Wasn’t this just his goddam luck! Penned +up in a room three stories above the pavement. He made a dash for the +dressing-table, but Olga grabbed his arm. + +“For God’s sake, Joe,” said DeVoss, “don’t cause no trouble in my +place. I don’t know what they want you for and I don’t give a damn. +I’ll get you a lawyer and see you through, but, for God’s sake, +don’t do no shooting in my place.” + +Willoughby, stunned, sat staring till his cigarette burned his fingers, +then he said: + +“Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll see you through too.” + +“Goddam it,” cried Joe, “you think I’m gonna let ’em take me like I was +a purse-snatcher on his first stand.” + +He pushed Olga away from him and was pulling at the dressing-table +drawer, when the door opened and Flaherty came in, followed by Spike +Rieger. Flaherty had his right hand in his coat pocket. + +“Joe,” said Flaherty, “step away from that drawer and make it snappy.” + +Joe knew Flaherty’s reputation. That boy used his rod and argued +afterwards. Joe moved away from the dressing-table and stood staring at +the floor. + +“What’s the idea, Flaherty?” he demanded. + +“Well,” said Flaherty, “we got a big audience here and I ain’t much on +embarrassing people, so you better just come along and we’ll have a +nice little talk.” + +“Aw, can that,” said Joe. + +Willoughby walked over to Flaherty. + +“My name’s Willoughby,” he said, “John C. Willoughby. I suppose you’ve +heard of me. Say, what’s this all about anyway? Why, I’ve known Joe for +nearly a year and as far as I know he’s a nice young fellow.” + +“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “Joe’s a pretty smooth young fellow, but we +caught up with him.” + +“Well,” said Willoughby, “I don’t know what he’s done, but I’m willing +to go on his bail.” + +Flaherty turned to Rieger. + +“I don’t suppose there’ll be much talk about bail, do you, Spike?” + +Rieger grinned and shook his head. + +“No bail!” Willoughby exclaimed. + +“Aw, it’s just one of their wise frame-ups, Mr. Willoughby,” said Joe, +but his face was white. + +“Well, we’ll see about this,” said Willoughby. “I’ll have my lawyer +down in half an hour.” + +“Listen,” said Flaherty, “there ain’t nobody gonna see this bird for +twenty-four hours.” + +Olga flung herself on the lounge and began to cry. + +“And let me give you an earful, Mr. Willoughby,” said Flaherty; +“for a guy of your class you sure ain’t very careful about who you mix +up with. These two birds here are taking you, see, and if I was you I’d +snap out of it and forget all about getting a lawyer.” + +“If that ain’t a bull for you,” said Joe. + +“Don’t pay no attention to him, Jack,” said Olga. + +“Certainly not,” said Willoughby. + +“All right, Spike,” said Flaherty, “I guess we wasted enough time on +these birds. Put the cuffs on him.” + +Olga jumped up and made a grab for Rieger, but DeVoss caught her from +the back and held her. + +“You can’t do nothing that way, Olga,” he said, “you’ll just make it +tough for Joe.” + +Olga screamed with rage and kicked back at DeVoss. + +“Ain’t dames awful?” said Flaherty. + +Willoughby went over to Olga and tried to talk to her, but she +continued to struggle. Rieger took out his handcuffs and walked over to +Joe. + +“Wait a minute,” said Joe, “you can’t put no bracelets on me. +Where’s your warrant?” + +Rieger took the warrant out of his pocket and handed it to Joe. Joe +read it slowly, then, without comment, handed it back. + +“Well, Joe,” said Flaherty. + +Joe didn’t say anything; he just held out his wrists. + +“What do they want you for, Joe?” cried Olga. + +“Never mind,” said Joe, “they ain’t got no case.” + +Olga stopped struggling. + +“You mean it, Joe?” + +“Sure,” said Joe, “they ain’t got no case at all. I’ll be out in +twenty-four hours.” + +“Shall I get my lawyer?” asked Willoughby. + +“Ain’t much use,” said Joe. + +DeVoss came over to Flaherty and said: + +“Listen, Mr. Flaherty, take him out through the kitchen, can’t you? I +can’t have cops coming in here pinching people.” + +“You got a nerve,” said Flaherty; “why, I ought to pull you in for +complicity. Didn’t you come back here and tip Joe off?” + +DeVoss got pale. + +“Honest to God, I didn’t tip him off. I just told him a couple of guys +wanted to see him.” + +“Pipe down,” said Flaherty. “Come on, Joe, let’s take a ride.” + +Joe’s face was ghastly, but he grinned. + +“O.K.,” he said; “it’s the first ride I ever took with any of you +birds.” + +“Well, I hope it’s the last,” said Flaherty. + +“Want me to come down and see you, Joe?” asked Olga. + +“No,” said Joe. + +They put Joe between two policemen in the back seat of the police car. +Rieger and Flaherty sat in front. The traffic was light as it was +nearly three o’clock in the morning. Rieger drove carelessly, one hand +on the wheel most of the time, and talked to Flaherty. + +“Boy,” said Joe, “that bird don’t care how he drives.” + +“You ain’t got far to go,” said one of the policemen. + +“No, but I ain’t sure of getting there.” + +The policemen laughed. + +“Say,” said Joe, “can I smoke?” + +One of the policemen leaned forward. + +“Say, chief, can this bird smoke?” + +“No,” said Flaherty; “what the hell you think this is, Joe! Maybe we +better pick up a couple of girls for you.” + +The policemen laughed. + +“Funny thing,” said Joe, “you know, Flaherty, a friend of mine told me +the other day that he didn’t think you’d live long.” + +“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “I know that friend of yours. He ain’t looking +any too healthy himself.” + + * * * * * + +For as late as it was there was a good deal of activity at the station. +A dozen plain-clothes men were waiting in the big room, when they +brought Joe in, and the Assistant County Prosecutor was standing at the +desk talking to the sergeant. + +“Looks like big doings,” said Joe. + +“Shut up,” said Flaherty; “recess is over. You open your mouth again +and I’ll close it for you.” + +They took Joe up to the desk to book him. + +“Well, you got him,” said the prosecutor, looking Joe over. + +“Yeah, we got him,” said Flaherty. “Did you chase the newspaper guys?” + +“Yeah,” said the prosecutor, “there won’t be no leaks to this.” + +“O.K.,” said Flaherty. + +The sergeant nodded to him. + +“All right, chief.” + +Flaherty took Joe by the arm. + +“All right, Joe,” he said, “we’re gonna give you a nice little room.” + +“With bath?” asked Joe. + +“Listen, boy,” said Flaherty, “we’re gonna take all that smartness out +of you.” + +Joe didn’t say anything. He was trying to keep up his front until they +locked him in his cell, but he was ready to drop. They had him; they +sure to God had him. + +The turnkey swung the big barred door wide. Flaherty took Joe to the +door of his cell, unlocked the handcuffs, and gave him a push. + +“All right, boy,” he said, “I’ll be back later.” + +“Listen, Flaherty,” said Joe, “can’t I even have a smoke?” + +Flaherty laughed, motioned for the turnkey to lock the cell door, and +disappeared down the corridor. + +“Say, buddy,” said Joe to the turnkey, “can’t you get me a pack of +cigarettes?” + +“Nothing doing,” said the turnkey, “not for fifty bucks. I got strict +orders on you, boy.” + +The turnkey went away. Joe stood in the middle of his cell for a +moment, then he climbed up on his bunk and looked out the window. Far +away down a side street he saw a big electric sign: DANCING. + +Joe flung himself down on his bunk. They had him; they sure to God did. + +“If I can only stick it out!” he said. + + + IV + +Joe awoke from a doze and turned to look out the window. Still dark. +He couldn’t have been asleep long. Wasn’t it never going to get +light! He got up and walked to the front of his cell. It wouldn’t be so +bad if there were some other guys to talk to; but the cells on either +side of him were vacant; also the ones across the corridor. + +“They sure ain’t taking no chances with me,” said Joe. + +He began to feel very uneasy. Something seemed to be dragging at his +stomach and he had a rotten taste in his mouth. + +“Some of that highhat grub I et,” said Joe. + +The turnkey came down the corridor and stopped in front of Joe’s cell. + +“Say, buddy,” he said, “they’ll be wanting you up front pretty soon.” + +“Yeah?” said Joe. “Listen, can’t you do me a favor and get me a pack of +cigs. I got plenty of money. Ask the sergeant.” + +“Can’t cut it,” said the turnkey. + +“What’s doing up front?” asked Joe. + +“A show-up.” + +“Yeah?” said Joe; then, “listen, I’ll give you a couple of bucks for +some cigs.” + +The turnkey laughed. + +“Say, there’s a guy in 18 that’d give me a hundred berries for +some snow. Not a chance. They sure are putting the clamps on us now. +It’s that goddam Crime Commission business. Tough on you birds.” + +“Ain’t it!” said Joe. + +The turnkey went away. Joe threw himself down on his bunk. Yeah, now +it was coming. That goddam peroxide dame had sure put the skids under +him. Well, there you was! Can’t tell how things are going to break. If +he’d’ve been wise he’d’ve sent Olga to see the Big Boy or Rico. But +then there’s no use letting a dame get too familiar with everything. +Anyway, he had an alibi. But Flaherty was a rough agent and you could +never tell what he would pull. Joe felt mechanically for his absent +cigarette case. + +“Hell,” he said, “I lost my head! I lost my head! Rico ought to put a +hunk of lead in me. As long as I been in the game and then don’t know +no better. God, but I was dumb.” + +He turned over irritably and sat up. He heard the keys clanking down +the corridor. A policeman stopped in front of his door and called: + +“All right, dago.” + +Joe got up. The turnkey unlocked the door. There were two policemen and +a plain-clothes man standing a little way down the corridor. When Joe +came out one of the policemen said: + +“There’s the guy that plugged Courtney.” + +They stared at him. Joe felt sick at his stomach. + +“Yeah,” said the plain-clothes man, “they won’t do much to that bird.” + +The turnkey took Joe by the arm. + +“All right, kid,” he said. + +Joe walked between the turnkey and the policeman, who had called +him. They took him into a big room where there were three policemen +and about a dozen prisoners. Joe saw Bugs Liska, Steve Gollancz’s +lieutenant. They exchanged a glance. + +A police sergeant got to his feet and shouted: + +“All right, you birds, let’s go.” + +The turnkey pushed Joe into line. A big door was swung open and he saw +a small, brilliantly lighted room with a crowd of people lining the +walls. Joe looked for the peroxide blonde. There she was, pale and +hardboiled, between two bulls. Joe started. God, he had her now. She +was standing side of Courtney when he dropped. Joe began to sweat. + +The line in single file was herded in. Bugs Liska, who was in front of +Joe, whispered: + +“Say, what’s this all about?” + +The sergeant heard him and leaping across the room grabbed him by the +shoulder. + +“Any more of that,” said the sergeant, “and some of you bad eggs is +gonna get cracked.” + +“Drop dead,” said Liska. + +Joe found himself face to face with the blonde. She stared at him. +Flaherty walked along the line and examined the prisoners. When he got +to Joe, Joe looked away. + +“How’s that bath?” asked Flaherty. + +“O.K.,” said Joe. + +Liska said: + +“Say, Irish, what’s this all about?” + +“Shut your dirty mouth,” said Flaherty. + +A man Joe had never seen before, a big husky man with curly gray hair, +went over to the blonde and said: + +“Is he in that bunch, Mrs. Weil?” + +The blonde nodded. + +“Well, Mrs. Weil, this is a very serious matter so don’t make any +mistakes. Now if you’re sure he’s in that bunch, point him out.” + +The blonde compressed her lips and walked over to Joe. + +“There he is. There’s the dirty skunk.” + +“Jesus,” said Liska, glancing at Joe, “it’s your funeral, hunh?” + +The blonde stood glaring at Joe. + +“I hope they hang you,” she cried, “shooting a guy like Jim Courtney.” + +“I never shot him,” said Joe. + +“Shut up,” said Flaherty. “All right, sergeant, march ’em out.” + +In the big room Liska said: + +“Joe, it sure looks tough for you.” + +“They can’t prove nothing,” said Joe. + +The sergeant rushed at them. + +“Where do you birds think you’re at!” he cried. + +Stepping back, he struck Joe a hard blow with his fist. Mechanically +Joe set himself and raised his hands, then, coming to himself, he +dropped his hands and stood looking at the floor. Liska said: + +“Say, sergeant, I guess I can go home, can’t I? My old mother’ll be +worried to death.” + +The sergeant stared at Liska, then he laughed. + +“I’m gonna hang on to you just for fun,” he said. + +“Yeah?” said Liska. “Well not long, cause Steve’s gonna spring me.” + +The sergeant motioned for the turnkey. + +“Lock the dago up,” he said; “you plant yourself over there in a chair, +Bugs.” + + * * * * * + +Joe lay down and tried to sleep. Over his head the barred window began +to get gray. Morning sure was slow in coming. + +Of a sudden he thought of Red Gus. He got to his feet and began to +walk back and forth. Yeah, they sure put the rope on old Gus and there +wasn’t a tougher guy in the world. Yeah, he was so tough he didn’t +die right away and kept kicking. Cops fainted and all that stuff. Joe +climbed up on his bunk and stood tiptoe to look out the window. +Morning was coming. He saw a milk wagon passing the jail. How come he +had to think of Red Gus? + +He thought he heard a noise and turned around. There were two cops +standing in front of his cell, looking at him. Joe felt uneasy. + +“Want me?” he called. + +They didn’t say anything; they just stood there looking, then went away. + +Joe got down from the window and sat on his bunk. No use trying to +sleep. Down the corridor someone began to scream. The turnkey passed +his cell on the run. Joe felt his hair stirring and sweat stood out on +his forehead. + +“Christ,” he said, “it’s only that dope.” + +In a minute the turnkey came back and stopped at Joe’s door. + +“Couple of guys coming back to take a look at you,” he said. + +“Yeah?” said Joe; “say, what was all the noise?” + +“The dope blew his top again,” said the turnkey; “the Doc’s gonna give +him a shot pretty soon.” + +The big man with the curly gray hair, Flaherty, and two policemen +came down the corridor. + +“All right,” said Flaherty, “let him out.” + +The turnkey unlocked the door and pushed Joe into the corridor. They +all stood staring at Joe; nobody said anything. + +Finally the gray-haired man said: + +“Well, it’s too bad. Nice-looking boy.” + +“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “but he’s hell with a gun.” + +Joe didn’t say anything. But Flaherty said: + +“Joe, I never thought you was the kind of a bird that’d shoot a guy in +the back.” + +Joe didn’t say anything. + +“Hanging’s too good for you, Joe.” + +“Poor old Jim never even had a gun on him. You lousy dago!” cried one +of the policemen, and took a step toward Joe. + +Flaherty motioned him back. + +“Just let the law take its course, Luke,” he said, “they’ll hang this +baby sure.” + +“Will they?” said Joe. + +The gray-haired man shook his finger at Joe. + +“Yes, my boy, I’m afraid they will.” + +“They can’t prove nothing on me,” said Joe; “I wasn’t even in that +end of town the night Courtney was bumped off. That dame’s full of hop.” + +One of the policemen stepped past Flaherty and knocked Joe down. +Flaherty grabbed the policeman and pushed him back. Joe got to his feet +and stood holding his jaw. + +“I’m gonna put it to you birds for this,” said Joe. + +Both of the policemen made a rush at Joe, but Flaherty held them back. + +“Well,” said Flaherty, “got an eyeful, Mr. McClure?” + +Joe stared at the gray-haired man. So this was the Crime Commission guy +that was kicking up all the row. Joe took a good look at him so he’d +know him the next time he saw him. Maybe, if things broke right, he +could deliver a nice package at that bird’s house some morning. + +“Yes,” said Mr. McClure, “lock him up, turnkey.” + +The turnkey took Joe by the arm and flung him into his cell. Joe fell +on his hands and knees. + +“Say,” said Joe, “what’s the idea?” + +The turnkey came over and put his face against the bars. + +“Orders, buddy,” he said, then he went away. + +Yeah, it was orders all right. They wasn’t going to let up on him till +he spilled something. Joe felt panicky. He flung himself face down on +his bunk and began to sob. + +“Won’t I never get out of here?” he said. + + * * * * * + +They had been questioning Joe for over two hours. He sat under a +blazing light and they sat round him in the darkness. Joe was so +thirsty that he could hardly swallow. They took turns at him: first, +Mr. McClure, then Flaherty, then Rieger. Flaherty sat near him and when +he was slow with his answers rapped him over the knuckles with a ruler. +But Joe stuck it out. + +The turnkey took him back to his cell and gave him some water. Joe took +a big drink then lay down on his bunk and tried to sleep, but it was no +use. He felt hot all over and his tongue was swollen. + +He put his hands under his head and lay looking at the square +spots of sunshine in the dark corridor. + +“God,” he said, “I can’t stand much of this.” + +In five minutes the turnkey came back. + +“They want you again, kid,” he said. + +“God, I can’t move,” said Joe. + +The turnkey unlocked the door and came into the cell. + +“Get on your feet,” he said, “and snap it up. The prosecutor’s in there +now and you’re gonna ketch hell.” + +Joe got slowly to his feet and the turnkey led him down the corridor. + + + V + +Sam Vettori sat half-dozing in an armchair watching a crap game. It +was about eleven o’clock in the morning and most of the blinds were +still down. All the wheels were covered and the chairs were piled up +on the tables. The game was desultory as nobody had much money. As it +wasn’t a house game, but merely some of the Vettori gang amusing +themselves, Sam occasionally staked one or another of the players. + +Since the rise of Rico, Sam had confined his efforts to the managing +of Little Arnie’s old joint. He was making money hand over fist and he +was content to sit all day in his armchair and superintend the work of +his employees. He drank wine by the gallon and ate plate after plate of +spaghetti. In a month he put on fifteen pounds. As he was fat to begin +with, this added poundage made him immense. His aquiline features were +puffed out nearly beyond recognition and there were rolls of fat at the +base of his skull. Sam had loosed the reins and gone slack. Formerly, +effort had kept him in better condition, but now, perfectly at ease, +free of responsibility, the deadly lethargy which had threatened him +all his life took possession of him. + +Sam crossed his legs with difficulty and took out a stogie. The crap +game had ended in an argument. Kid Bean loudly contended that he had +been gypped. + +“Shut up, you guys,” said Sam, “I’m doing you a favor to let you +shoot in here. Any more of this kind of stuff and you don’t do it no +more. If you guys’d save your money you wouldn’t have to be fighting +over two bits.” + +“Aw, rest your jaw,” said Kid Bean. + +Joe Peeper took the dice and flung them out the window. + +“Them babies’ll never bother me no more,” said Joe. + +“Can you beat that!” said Kid Bean. + +“Well,” said Sam, “since Blackie’s got all the jack, the rest of you +guys can pitch pennies. Listen, Kid, don’t forget you owe me two bucks.” + +“You can take it out of my hide,” said the Kid. + +“Your hide ain’t worth it,” said Sam. + +Chesty, the doorman, came out of Sam’s office rubbing his eyes. + +“Sam,” he said, “Scabby wants to see you.” + +“Tell him to come out here,” said Sam. + +“No,” said Chesty, “he wants to see you private.” + +“Hey, Sam,” said Kid Bean, “give us a deck of cards, will you?” + +“No,” said Sam, “you don’t even know what they’re for.” He pulled +himself slowly to his feet and turning to Chesty went on: “Get these +guys a pack of cards and lock ’em up some place. They’d bump each other +off for two bits and I don’t want this nice carpet spoiled.” + +Yawning and stretching, Sam went into his office and shut the door. +Scabby was standing in the middle of the room, biting his nails. + +“Want a bottle of wine or something, Scabby?” asked Sam. + +“Christ, no!” cried Scabby. + +Sam stared at him, then dropped into a chair. + +“Well,” he said, “you look like you got something on your mind, so +spill it.” + +Scabby was so nervous that he couldn’t control the muscles of his face. + +“You’re goddam right I got something on my mind,” said Scabby, “Joe +spilled the works.” + +Sam opened his eyes wide. + +“Joe who?” + +“Joe Massara,” said Scabby, “they nabbed him on the Courtney business +and he squawked.” + +Sam’s jaw fell and he ran his hands over his face in a bewildered way. + +“Yeah?” he said. + +“It’s the God’s truth,” said Scabby; “boy, the bulls sure played this +one slick. Listen, I didn’t even know nothing about it. They kept the +newspaper guys out and when a couple guys who were in the know came +looking for Joe they told them that they must have him at the Chicago +Avenue station. And out at Chicago Avenue they sent ’em some place +else. Yeah, it’s all over now.” + +This was too much for Sam. He just sat there staring at Scabby. + +“God, Sam,” said Scabby, astonished, “don’t you get me? It’s all over. +Listen, if it wasn’t for you I’d be on my way right now. I don’t know +whether I’ll be named or not, but I ain’t taking no chances. Love of +God, Sam, don’t just sit there. You got to do something.” + +“Joe spilled everything?” asked Sam, taking it in slowly. + +“Yeah, he stuck it out for four hours, but he didn’t have a chance.” + +There was a flash of the old Sam Vettori. He got up and took Scabby by +the arm. + +“Is Rico wised up?” + +“No,” said Scabby. + +“All right,” said Sam, “you keep your mouth shut.” + +“You don’t have to tell me,” said Scabby. + +Sam looked about him, bewildered. + +“But, good God,” he cried, “what am I gonna do?” + +“Well,” said Scabby, “I got a can down here and I’m hitting East. Want +to go with me? I’ll take a chance.” + +Sam looked his bewilderment. Things were moving too fast for him. Why, +he hadn’t been out of Chicago for twenty years. He hadn’t been out of +Little Italy for over five. Just pick up and beat it. + +“What the hell!” said Sam, “I got a good business.... God, what am I +gonna do?” + +Scabby stared at him. + +“Why, Sam,” he said, “you must be losing your mind.” + +Sam wiped the sweat from his face and sank back into his chair. + +“Joe spilled it, hunh? Rico said he’d turn yellow.” + +Scabby took him under the arms and tried to pull him to his feet, +but Sam pushed him away. + +“No use running,” he said, “they’ll get you sure. I ain’t gonna go +running all over hell and back and a bunch of bulls chasing me.” + +Scabby swore violently in Italian. + +“No,” said Sam, “no use running.” + +“Well,” said Scabby, “this bird’s gonna pull his freight. Sam, you must +be full of hop.” + +Sam sat staring at his shoes. + +“Listen,” said Scabby, “I can’t waste no more time. Are you gonna pull +out or ain’t you?” + +Sam didn’t say anything. + +“O.K.,” said Scabby; “I’m moving.” + +“Wait,” cried Sam. “Scabby, listen to me. I been good to you, ain’t I?” + +“You sure have.” + +“I give you the money to bring your old man over here, didn’t I? And I +give you the money to bury him, didn’t I?” + +“You sure did.” + +“Well, listen, Scabby, if Rico gets away, pop him. Goddam him; he’s +busted us all. Pop him, Scabby, for old Sam.” + +“He won’t get away,” said Scabby. + +“You don’t know that guy,” said Sam, getting shakily to his feet; “sure +to God as I’m a Catholic, you don’t know that guy. He’s got a run of +luck and it may last.” + +“If he gets away I’ll pop him,” said Scabby. + +The door was flung violently open and Killer Pepi stepped in. + +“I heard you bastards,” he said. “The Kid told me there was something +up. Double-crossing the boss, hunh?” + +“Go to hell,” said Sam. + +Scabby raised his gun but it missed fire. The Killer shot from his hip, +then ran out, slamming the door. + +“Did he plug you, Scabby?” cried Sam. + +“No,” said Scabby, “but I heard her sing.” + +The window behind Scabby had a bullet hole in it. + +“He’ll spill it sure,” said Sam, his face puckered. + +“Won’t do him no good,” said Scabby, “’cause the bulls are on their +way. Well, Sam, I’m moving.” + +Sam just looked at him. Scabby raised the window and climbed out +on the fire-escape. + +“Love of God, Sam,” said Scabby, “you got to do something.” + +Sam took his hat from the hook. + +“I’ll go see the Big Boy.” + +“It won’t do you no good, Sam.” + +They heard someone running down the hall, then, there was a shot, +followed by a rush of feet. Chesty flung open the door. + +“The bulls!” he cried. + +Scabby disappeared down the fire-escape. Sam took out his automatic and +put his back against the wall. Spike Rieger put his head in the door, +then drew it back hastily. + +“Sam,” he called, “better give up.” + +“All right,” said Sam, flinging his gun on the floor. + +Spike Rieger came in followed by two policemen. + +“Put the cuffs on him,” said Spike. + +Sam held out his hands and one of the policemen snapped on the +handcuffs. + +“Spike,” said Sam, “did you pick the Killer up on the way in?” + +“No,” said Spike, “we don’t want him for nothing.” Turning to the +policemen Spike said: “All right, put him in the wagon.” + +“Listen, Spike,” said Sam, “did you get Rico?” + +“I don’t know,” said Spike. “Flaherty’s after him. I guess you know +Gentleman Joe squawked, don’t you?” + +“Yeah,” said Sam, indifferently, “but you ain’t got no case against me.” + +Spike laughed. + + + VI + +The Killer knocked at Rico’s door but got no response. He knocked again +and again, then, getting impatient, he put his shoulder to the door and +flung it open. No Rico. The Killer stood in the hall, wondering where +Rico could have gone. From the landing above him, the landlady yelled: + +“Hey, what did you do to that door?” + +“The hell with the door,” said Pepi; “do you know where the guy +that lives there is?” + +“No,” said the landlady, “but I seen him go out with a fellow.” + +“What kind of a fellow?” + +“A little fellow.” + +Otero! Killer took the stairs at a jump but slowed his pace as he +reached the main floor. There was a police car at the curb. Flaherty +got out leisurely and stood talking to one of the policemen in the +front seat. Pepi went over to him. + +“Looking for the boss?” + +“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “the Big Boy sent me down. I want to have a talk +with him.” + +“Yeah?” said Pepi. “Getting wise to yourself, hunh?” + +“Rico was always O.K. with me.” + +“That’s the talk,” said Pepi. “Well, the boss is upstairs by himself.” + +When Flaherty and one of his men had gone into the building, the Killer +grinned at the others and walked slowly away, but, as soon as he had +turned the corner, he broke into a run. + +There were two little Italian kids sitting on the steps of the +stairway that led up to Otero’s. They made way for Pepi. + +“Otero upstairs?” he asked. + +One of the kids said: + +“That funny little guy?” + +“Yeah,” said Pepi. + +“I think I seen him go up.” + +“Yeah,” said the other kid, “I seen him.” + +Pepi took the stairs at a run and rapped at Otero’s door. Seal Skin +opened it a few inches but Pepi pushed her aside and walked in. Otero +was sitting with his feet on the bed, smoking a big cigar. + +“Where’s the boss?” asked Pepi. + +“At Blondy’s. What’s the matter?” + +“Joe squawked,” said Pepi, “and the bulls is looking for Rico. Get your +coat on and beat it, Otero. I’ll go after the boss.” + +Otero leapt to his feet and struggled into his coat. + +“Bulls looking for me too?” + +“Sure,” said Pepi, “it’s the Courtney business. You beat it, Otero. +This ain’t no picnic.” + +“No,” said Otero, “I go with Rico.” + +“You damn dummy,” said Seal Skin. + +“Yeah,” said Pepi, “you beat it, Otero. Get out of town. They don’t +want me for nothing. I’ll see if I can’t get Rico on the phone; if I +can’t I’ll go after him. Listen, the bulls is over at Rico’s right now.” + +“Caramba!” cried Otero, and, slipping his automatic into his coat +pocket, he ran out into the hall and down the stairs. + +“The damn dummy!” said Seal Skin. + +Pepi stood looking at Seal Skin then he said: + +“Sure he’s a damn dummy, but he’s right.” + +Before Otero had gone half a block in the direction of Blondy’s, he +saw a police car coming toward him. He ducked into a drugstore. It was +empty except for a clerk who stood staring at Otero. + +“Show me the back way out, you!” said Otero. + +“Say!” said the clerk. + +Otero took out his gun. The clerk threw himself down behind the +counter. Otero ran out through the prescription room and found the back +door, which opened into an alley. One end of the alley was blind, the +other came out onto a busy street. Otero ran toward the open end, +praying in Spanish. + +All along the curbs on both sides of the street pushcarts were drawn up +and peddlers were calling their wares. A slow-moving crowd of Little +Italians blocked the pavements. Otero, because of his size, disappeared +into the crowd, and, although he was forced to go slowly, he was safe +from observation. Half a block from Blondy’s he ducked down an alley, +crossed a long cement court and climbed the fire-escape. + +Blondy’s bedroom window was locked. Otero beat on it with his fist. +For a moment there was no response, then he saw the bedroom door open +slowly and Blondy’s face appeared. She ran over and unlocked the +window, then she turned and called: + +“Rico, it’s The Greek.” + +Rico came into the bedroom. He had his hat on. + +“Did Pepi get you?” + +“No, what the hell?” + +The phone rang and Blondy went to answer it. + +“They got Joe and he squawked,” said Otero. + +Rico looked at him. Blondy came running back. + +“My God, Rico,” she said, “the bulls’re after you. Joe squealed. +You ought to plugged that softie, Rico. You ought to plugged him.” + +Rico stood in the middle of the room, staring. By an effort of the +will, he rid himself of an attitude of mind which had been growing on +him since his interviews with Montana and the Big Boy. He was nobody, +nobody. Worse than nobody. The bulls wanted him now and they wanted +him bad. Goodbye dollar cigars and crockery at one grand, goodbye +swell food and Tuxedos and security. Rico was nobody. Just a lonely +Youngstown yegg that the bulls wanted. His face was ghastly. + +He swung his fist at the air. + +“I ought to plugged him! I ought to plugged him!” + +Otero stood staring at Rico. Blondy was putting on her hat. + +“All right,” said Rico, “let’s go.” + +Blondy said: + +“Take me, Rico.” + +Rico shook his head. + +“Nothing doing, Blondy. I’m traveling fast and I can’t be bothered +with no dame.” + +“Jesus, Rico,” said Blondy, unable to realize what had happened, +“everything was going so nice.” + +“Sure,” said Rico, “but it’s all over now and that’s that. You stay +planted, Blondy, and as soon as I get a chance I’ll send you a stake.” + +Otero crawled out the window onto the fire-escape and Rico followed +him. Blondy began to scream. + +“Shut your mouth,” said Rico, “and if the bulls come up the front way +kid ’em along. Make ’em think you got me hid, see?” + +“O.K., Rico,” said Blondy. + +Otero and Rico went down the fire-escape. They stopped at the foot of +the fire-escape and Rico took Otero by the arm. + +“Listen,” he said, “here’s the dope. We got to get to Ma Magdalena’s. +She’s got most of my jack and a good hide-out. It ain’t gonna be easy, +because the bulls’re probably scattered all around. But once we get +there, we’re O.K.” + +“All right,” said Otero. + +They started. Rico knew every alley in the district, and he led Otero +by such a safe route that they were soon within a block and a half of +Ma Magdalena’s without having crossed a main thoroughfare. + +“Now,” said Rico, “we got to watch our step. If the bulls are cruising, +they’re cruising this street sure.” + +“All right,” said Otero. + +“Listen,” said Rico, “don’t be afraid to use your gat if the fun +begins. They can only hang you once.” + +“I ain’t afraid,” said Otero. + +They left the alley and were half way across the street when somebody +shouted at them to halt. Without turning, they broke into a run. + +“It’s only one bull,” said Rico. + +A bullet sang over them and they heard the blast of a policeman’s +whistle. Otero stopped in his tracks, turned, took a steady aim and +fired. The policeman staggered forward three or four steps and fell to +his knees. + +“Got him,” said Otero. + +Rico turned. The policeman was kneeling in the middle of the street, +trying to steady his hand for a shot. + +“Duck,” cried Rico, simultaneously with the firing of the policeman’s +gun. + +Otero twisted sideways, looked at Rico with surprise, then dropped his +gun, and began to walk up the alley holding his stomach. Rico put his +arm around him and, pulling him over to the side of the alley where he +could keep a telephone pole between them and the policeman, guided him +along. But after a few steps, Otero pulled away from Rico and cried: + +“Run, Rico, run. They got me sure. I can’t feel nothing.” + +Rico grabbed him and tried to pull him along, but he resisted. + +“Goddam you, Rico,” cried Otero, “run! I can’t go no farther. I’m done +for.” + +Rico heard the roar of a police car. He released Otero, who staggered +away from him and then fell flat on his back. + +“Run, Rico,” said Otero. + +Rico climbed a fence, ran up through a filthy back yard, and in at an +open back door. There was a young Italian girl sweeping in the hall. At +Rico’s sudden appearance, she dropped her broom and flattened herself +against the wall. Rico took her by the arm. + +“Listen, sister,” he said, “the bulls’re after me. I’m going out the +front way, see, but if the bulls come through here you tell ’em I +hopped the fence next door and doubled back. Got it?” + +“Yes sir,” said the girl, then looking up at Rico, “I know you.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico. “Well, do your stuff then, sister.” + +In the alley behind the house there was a shriek of ♦brakes and someone +cried in a loud voice: + +♦ “breaks” replaced with “brakes” + +“He went in that way!” + +The girl picked up her broom and went on sweeping. Rico ran out through +the front hall, down the long flight of stone steps, and crossed the +street leisurely. + + + VII + +Ma Magdalena let him in at the alley door. + +“Well, Rico,” she said; “got yourself in a nice fix, didn’t you?” + +Rico grinned. + +“Yeah,” he said, “who told you?” + +“The bulls were here and searched the place.” + +“Didn’t find the hide-out, did they?” + +Ma Magdalena laughed. + +“What a chance!” + +Rico followed Ma down into the basement. She led him through a short +tunnel and back into the hide-out. A small, round opening just large +enough to admit one person had been pierced in a heavy stone wall. In +front of the wall rows of pine shelves had been built and these were +filled with canned goods. The section of the shelves which hid the +opening was hinged and could be swung open. + +Rico followed Ma through the opening and came out into a little room +with a cot in one corner, a table, and one chair. Rico took off +his hat and sat down. + +“They got The Greek,” he said. + +“Yeah?” said Ma. + +Rico took out a cigar and lit it. + +“Listen,” he said, “I want to stay here a couple of days. Then I’m +gonna pull out. Get me some magazines and keep me posted.” + +“All right,” said Ma, “but it’s gonna cost you, because I’m taking +chances, see, I’m taking big chances.” + +“Well,” said Rico, “you got my roll, help yourself.” + +Ma Magdalena smiled broadly. + +“That’s the talk, Rico. Old Ma’ll sure take care of you.” + +“O.K.,” said Rico; “now, get this: in two days I want a car.” + +“Arrigo’s got a car. If we go hooking one, it might spoil your +get-away.” + +“That’s good,” said Rico; “all right, I want a jumper suit, you know, +one of them suits like a garage mechanic wears, and a razor.” + +“All right,” said Ma Magdalena. + +When she had gone, Rico took off his coat and shoes, and lay down on +the cot. His nerves were jumpy and he couldn’t seem to get settled. He +flung his cigar away and turned his face to the wall. + +“Just when I thought things was on the up and up,” he said. + +Rico felt resentful, but his resentment was not directed at any +specific group or person; it was vague as yet. He turned from side to +side on his cot, then he gave it up. + +Ma Magdalena came back with a big mug of coffee and a couple of papers. +Rico sat down at the table. + +“They got Sam,” said Ma. + +“Well,” said Rico, “that’s hips for Sam.” + +Rico took the papers from her and glanced at the headlines. + + GENTLEMAN JOE WILTS GANG CHIEF NAMED AS SLAYER + +Ma Magdalena went out. Rico sat reading the paper and sipping his +coffee. + + Gentleman Joe Massara looks more like a movie actor than a gunman. + When arrested he was wearing an expensive Tuxedo and the rings that + were taken from him are valued at $3000. + +“To hell with that,” said Rico. + +He read on: + + Cesare Bandello, known as Rico, the Vettori gang chief, was named as + the actual slayer of Courtney.... + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “and I’m the only one they ain’t gonna get.” + + + + + PART VII + + + I + +It was dark when Rico reached the outskirts of Hammond. He drove into a +field, took the license plates off and buried them, and got out of his +jumpers. Then he took some clean waste from the tool box and wiped the +grease from his face. + +“What a cinch,” he said. + +Things had gone a lot better than he had expected them to. There hadn’t +been a hitch of any kind. A motor cop out in Blue Island had waved to +him even. Rico laughed. You never know. When you’re looking for things +to go right they never do. When you’re looking for trouble, why, things +are O.K. Yeah, funny! + +Rico walked to the car line. He was wearing a plain, dark suit and an +army shirt Arrigo had given him. He had shaved off his mustache and the +hard, short bristles on his upper lip worried him. Rico felt very proud +of his escape. It was a good idea to dress himself up like a garage +mechanic and drive across town in broad daylight. Yeah, it was a +good idea and if things broke right he’d write to one of the papers and +tell them all about it. Only the postmark would give him away. Not so +good. Well, anyway, he could tell Sansotta about it. + +Rico got on a street-car. + +“Well, how’s things?” he said to the conductor. + +“All right,” said the conductor; “getting cooler, ain’t it? Reckon +we’ll have winter before we know it.” + +“Yeah,” said Rico. + + + II + +Rico went up the alley at the side of Sansotta’s place and knocked at +the back door. It was a long time before somebody came and took a look +at him through the shutter. A voice with a marked Italian accent said: + +“Who are you?” + +“Where’s Sansotta?” asked Rico. + +“What do you care?” + +“Listen, buddy,” said Rico, “don’t get all het up. I’m right. Go +tell Sansotta that Cesare wants him.” + +In a few minutes the door opened and a hand motioned for Rico to come +in. The hall was dark and Rico stumbled going up the stairs. The +look-out took hold of his arm. + +“The boss’s up in his room. I’ll take you up. Where you from, buddy?” + +“Youngstown,” said Rico. + +“Where’s that?” + +“Over east.” + +The look-out led Rico down a long, dark hallway and to a door at the +end of it. Light showed over a transom. The look-out knocked three +times and the door was opened. Rico went in. + +“Well,” said Sansotta, locking the door, “here you are?” + +“Yeah,” said Rico. + +Sansotta was a small, bowlegged Italian with a dark, scarred face. He +had on a striped suit, brown and red, and a stiff collar the points +of which were so high that his chin rested on them. There was a big +diamond stud in his shirtfront. + +“You must’ve got a break,” said Sansotta. + +Rico explained how he had got away. + +“Pretty nifty,” said Sansotta; “I got to hand it to you on that, +Cesare.” + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “it was a good idea.” + +Sansotta went over to a table, opened a drawer and took out a handbill +which he gave to Rico. Rico smiled. + +“Raised the ante, did they? Last I heard it was five grand.” + +Rico read the handbill over and over and stared at the Bertillon +pictures. + +“Them pictures don’t look like me,” he said. + +Sansotta pursed his lips and scrutinized them. + +“Not since you got the tickler off. No, and you look thinner in them +pictures. How long ago was they taken?” + +“About seven years ago.” + +The handbill read: + + Wanted for murder: Cesare Bandello, known as Rico. Age: 29. Height: 5 + ft. 5 in. Weight: 125. Complexion: pale. Hair: black and wavy. Eyes: + light, gray or blue. His face is thin and he walks with one foot + slightly turned in. Does not take up with strangers. Solitary type, + morose and dangerous. Reward: $5000, offered by management of + Casa Alvarado. $2000, offered by City of Chicago, for capture dead or + alive. + +“Well,” said Sansotta, “where you headed for?” + +“I’m gonna stick around here for a while,” said Rico. + +“Yeah?” said Sansotta; “pretty close to trouble, ain’t it?” + +“I don’t know,” said Rico, “they ain’t got any idea which way I went. I +got a big stake and I don’t have to worry none.” + +“You sure went up fast over in the big burg,” said Sansotta, looking at +Rico with a sort of awe. + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “and the hell of it was, I was just getting started. +Everything was on the up and up when one of the gang turned softie. +Ain’t that hell?” + +Rico had been very much elated over his escape from Chicago, so elated +in fact that he had forgotten all about his troubles; but, now that the +excitement of the escape had passed, the thought of how much he had +lost struck him full force. He felt resentful. + +“Yeah,” said Sansotta, “that’s the way it goes. It’s a tough game. +They picked up two of my men last night.” + +“That so?” said Rico, paying no attention. + +Sansotta got up. + +“Well, Cesare,” he said, “I got business or I’d stick around and chin +with you. Want to stay here with me till things blow over?” + +“Yeah,” said Rico. + + + III + +Night after night Rico lay awake looking at the arc light outside his +window. His mind was filled with resentment and he went over and over +the incidents which had led to his fall. Now that it was too late, he +saw the mistakes he had made. He should have plugged Gentleman Joe; +that’s all. When a guy begins to turn softie, why there ain’t no good +in him. Yeah, he had been too easy. Another thing. He should have +played Scabby up; that guy was in a position to do him all kinds of +favors. But Scabby was a hard guy to get along with; he always thought +somebody was trying to make a fool of him and he always had a chip +on his shoulder. + +Sometimes Rico would fall asleep for a little while, but his sleep was +full of dreams and he would toss from side to side and wake up with a +start. Then he would get up and smoke one cigarette after another and +think about Montana and Little Arnie and the Big Boy. Often, in these +short naps, he would see The Greek lying on his back in the alley, or +the little Italian girl sweeping the hall, or Ma Magdalena helping him +put the grease on his face. Then he would awake in confusion and stare +at the unfamiliar arc light a long time before he could realize where +he was. + +In the day time it wasn’t so bad. He could play cards with Sansotta and +some of his gang, or shoot crap on a pool table in the back room. Rico +always played to win and while the game was in progress he forgot his +troubles. But even this was but a partial alleviation. He was nobody. +Just an unknown wop who seemed to have unlimited resources. Sansotta +was the only one who knew who he was. He had taken his uncle’s name, +Luigi De Angelo, and around Sansotta’s he was called Youngstown +Louis, or usually plain Louis. No, he was nobody. When a card game got +hot and one of the players thought he was getting gypped, a look from +Rico did not quiet the tumult as it had done in Little Italy. A look +from Rico meant nothing. He was cursed with the rest of them. Often the +desire to show these two-bit wops who they were yelling at would make +him writhe in his chair, and his hand would move toward his armpit, +but he couldn’t risk it. He had his neck to think about, and there was +Sansotta, a good guy, doing what he could for him. Rico kept saying to +himself, you are nobody, nobody, but it was galling. + +Sometimes he would go to his room early and just sit in the dark and +think. He would imagine himself in the Big Boy’s wonderful apartment; +he would see the big pictures of the old time guys in their gold +frames, the one grand crockery, and the library full of books; or he +would recall the night when Little Arnie’s Detroit toughs tried to bump +him off and how when he came back to The Palermo the people stood on +the chairs and shouted: “Rico! Rico!” God, it was hard to take! + +The stories in the magazines about swell society people that he +used to read with such eagerness failed to interest him now. After a +paragraph or two he would fling the magazine aside and swear. + +“Yeah,” he would say, “ain’t that great! The damn dressed-up softies. +Got everything in the world and never had to turn a hand for it.” + +Rico was filled with resentment and when he spoke, rarely now, it was +to denounce or ridicule something. The wops around Sansotta’s, though +they were obtuse enough, were not long in noticing this, and Rico began +to be known as Crabby Louis. + +They would say: “Well, Crabby Louis, it’s your shot;” or “All right, +Crabby, deal the cards.” + +The only thing that really interested Rico was the trial of Sam +Vettori. Joe Massara, who had turned State’s evidence, had been +sentenced to life. “Lord,” said Rico, when he read Joe’s sentence, +“I never thought they’d give Gentleman Joe a jolt like that after he +turned State’s. Them boys means business.” Sam’s trial had been rushed +because of the hubbub raised by Mr. McClure and other influential +men, and the outcome was never in doubt. Sam Vettori was sentenced to +be hanged. + +When Rico read the verdict he lay back in his chair and looked at the +wall. + +“Well, old Sam had a long whack at it,” he said; “never seen the inside +of a prison in his life. A guy’s luck’s bound to turn.” + +Then he went over in his mind the robbery of the Casa Alvarado and all +the steps which had led to his own rise and fall. + +“It made me and it broke me,” he said. + +On New Year’s Eve Rico dressed up more than usual and went down into +Sansotta’s cabaret. It was jammed and unable to get a seat he went into +Sansotta’s office and had one of the waiters bring him a meal. He sat +with the door open and watched the antics on the dance-floor. There was +plenty of liquor about and the crowd was pretty rough. Rico saw a big +blonde dancing with a fat Italian. She gave him a look and he motioned +for her to come in the office. She nodded. Rico got up and closed the +door. In a few minutes the Blonde came in. + +“Well, kid,” she said, “what’s on your mind?” + +“I got a room upstairs,” said Rico, “that ain’t occupied.” + +“The hell you have,” said the Blonde. + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “and I got a bank roll that ain’t got any strings on +it.” + +“Now you’re talking,” said the Blonde, putting her arm around Rico. + +“Well,” said Rico, “let’s go.” + +“Listen,” said the Blonde, “I’ll be back after while. I got a guy out +here that’s plenty tough and I got to humor him.” + +“Aw, hell,” said Rico, “I’ll take that toughness out of him. Stick +around.” + +The Blonde looked at Rico and laughed. + +“Say,” she said, “you ain’t big enough to talk so big.” + +“No,” said Rico, resentful, “I ain’t so big.” + +“Listen, honey,” said the Blonde, “this boy would eat you alive.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico. + +The fat Italian opened the door and came in. + +“What’s the idea, Micky?” he said to the Blonde. + +“Why, I just happened to bump into an old friend of mine,” said +the Blonde, scared. + +Rico got up and stood looking at the fat Italian. + +“What’s it to you!” he said. + +“Why, listen, kid,” said the fat Italian, “you better go get your +big brother cause if you make any more cracks I’m gonna dust off the +furniture with you.” + +The Blonde took the fat Italian by the arm. + +“Come on, Paul,” she said, “let’s go dance.” + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “take that bird away before something happens to +him.” + +The fat Italian pulled away from the Blonde and started toward Rico. + +“That’s one crack too many,” he said. + +But Rico, standing with his back against Sansotta’s desk, perfectly +calm, reached under his armpit and pulled his gun. The fat Italian +hesitated and looked bewildered. + +“Well,” said Rico, “kind of lost your steam, didn’t you?” + +The fat Italian turned and looked at the Blonde. + +“That’s a nice boy friend you got,” he said. + +The Blonde stood there with her mouth open. + +“All right, big boy,” said Rico, “we can get along without you.” + +Sansotta opened the door and stood looking from one to the other. + +“What’s the matter, Paul?” he inquired. + +The fat Italian pointed at Rico. + +“That bird there tried to grab my girl, and when I told him about it he +pulled a gat on me.” + +Sansotta’s face darkened. + +“Put that gun up, Louis,” he said, staring hard at Rico; “where you +think you’re at? Listen, Paul, Louis’s a new guy here and he don’t know +the ropes.” + +“Well,” said the fat Italian, “he sure is quick with a gun.” + +“That’s all right, Paul,” said the Blonde, laughing, “he needs a +handicap.” + +Rico, furious, put on his hat and started to go. But Sansotta said: + +“Wait a minute, Louis, I want to see you.” Then turning to the fat +Italian: “I’m sure sorry this happened, but you know how it is +when a guy don’t know the ropes, he’ll butt in where it ain’t healthy +to butt in, see? Louis’s all right, but he’s got a bad temper.” + +“Ain’t he!” said Paul. “Well, I guess we better be moving up town. I +ain’t any too anxious to hang around where you’re liable to get bumped +off.” + +“Aw, stick around, Paul,” Sansotta implored; “you won’t have no more +trouble.” + +“No,” said Paul, “I’ll be moving. Come on, Micky. I seen about all of +your boy friend that I want to see.” + +Sansotta followed them out into the cabaret, trying to ♦pursuade them +to remain, but Paul went over to the check-window and got their wraps. +Rico sat down and went on with his meal. Sansotta came in and slammed +the door after him. + +♦ “pursuade” replaced with “persuade” + +“Goddam you, Cesare,” he cried, “why don’t you be more careful? That +guy is Paolo, the political boss. He can close me up tomorrow if he +wants to.” + +“Take it easy,” said Rico; “how the hell did I know? You think I’m +gonna let a guy take a bust at me?” + +Sansotta took out a cigar and began to chew on it. + +“Cesare,” he said, “you got to be moving. I can’t have you hanging +around here no more. It’s too dangerous.” + +Rico dropped his fork and stared at Sansotta. + +“Giving me the go-by, hunh?” + +“Yeah,” said Sansotta, “you got to be moving.” + +Rico got to his feet and stood looking at Sansotta. + +“Just on account of a small town ward-heeler,” he said; “why that guy +couldn’t boss a section gang. You’re a hell of a guy, Sansotta. After +all the jack I spent in this dump.” + +“I can’t help that,” said Sansotta, “you got to be moving right away.” + +Rico laughed. + +“Don’t get funny,” he said. + +“Don’t you get funny,” said Sansotta; “you ain’t in no shape to get +funny.” + +“Maybe you better call the bulls and turn me up,” said Rico. + +“Well,” said Sansotta, “you got to be moving, that’s all.” + + + IV + +Rico was acutely conscious of his position. A lonely Youngstown yegg +in a hostile city without friends or influence. Yeah, funny! Just a +no-account yap in a burg like Hammond and not four months ago he had +been a big guy in a big burg. + +He put on his ulster and went out. The wind was cold and it was +snowing. He walked around for a while, keeping to the dark streets, +then, chilled through, he went into a little Italian restaurant for a +cup of coffee and a sandwich. + +The waiter, an Italian boy with a handsome dark face, brought Rico his +food. When he set it down on the table he grinned and said: + +“Well, happy New Year.” + +Rico looked up in surprise. + +“Yeah,” he said, “thanks.” + +He felt better. This anonymous friendliness cheered him up. While he +was eating, he watched the Italian boy, who was wiping off the +counter and singing. + +“Nice kid,” thought Rico. + +When Rico had finished his coffee, he lit a cigarette and sat smoking. +He felt comfortable. Looking around the restaurant, he saw that there +was a mechanical piano up front. Like Pete’s! + +“Say,” he called, “let’s have a little music.” + +“Sure,” said the boy. + +He put a slug in the piano. It played Farewell To Thee in tremolo. Rico +felt sad. He called the boy back and gave him a dollar. + +“Keep the change, kid,” he said. + +The mechanical piano stopped on a discord, and Rico got to his feet. +While he was putting on his coat two men came in the front door. One of +them went up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee, but the other +stopped and stood staring at Rico. + +Rico, noticing the man’s scrutiny, put his hand inside his coat and +started out, but the man touched him on the shoulder and whispered: + +“Things ain’t going so good, are they, Rico?” + +Rico stared at the man and demanded: + +“Who the hell are you?” + +Then he recognized him. It was Little Arnie’s doorman, Joseph +Pavlovsky, one of the guys he had chased. + +“I’m one of Arnie’s boys,” said Pavlovsky; “I been in Hammond ever +since you gave us the rush.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico. + +“Straight,” said Pavlovsky. “I been in the beer racket over here and I +cleaned up. I’m going back to the big burg next month.” + +Rico envied him. + +“Yeah?” said Rico. + +“You sure pulled one on ’em, Rico,” said Pavlovsky; “you always was a +smart boy, Rico.” + +“Aw, can that,” said Rico, and, pulling away from Pavlovsky, he went +out. + +The wind was blowing hard now and it had stopped snowing. Rico turned +up his coat collar and started toward Sansotta’s. But he hadn’t gone +half a block when he realized that he was being followed. He turned +just in time to see two men pass under an arclight. + +“It’s Little Arnie’s boy,” he said, “looking for seven grand.” + +Rico took out his gun, got behind a telephone pole, and fired a warning +shot. The two men ran for cover and Rico ducked down an alley, ran for +two blocks, then turned up another alley and doubled back. He had lost +them. + +When the look-out let him in he said: + +“Louis, the boss wants to see you.” + +Rico went up to Sansotta’s room. + +“Well?” he said to Sansotta. + +“Cesare,” said Sansotta, “a friend of mine is pulling out for Toledo +tomorrow night. He’ll take you for fifty bucks.” + +“What’s his game?” + +“Running dope.” + +“It’s O.K. with me,” said Rico. + +Rico went up to his room, took off his overcoat, and flung himself down +on the bed. He’d have to pull out now whether he wanted to or not. + + + V + +The dope-runner dropped Rico at the edge of town. It was about five +o’clock in the morning and still dark. A heavy fog had come in from +Lake Erie and a damp, cold wind was blowing. Rico walked up and down to +keep warm while waiting for a car. He felt pretty low. + +“Yeah,” said Rico, “right back where I started from.” + +The headlight on the street-car cut through the fog. The motorman +didn’t see Rico and ran past him. + +“Ain’t that a break?” said Rico. + +There wouldn’t be another car for half an hour. Rico decided to walk. +He turned up his coat collar against the damp wind and lit a cigar. His +mind was full of resentment. Yeah, by God, a lousy street-car wouldn’t +even stop for him. + +Rico got a room at a bachelor’s hotel on the waterfront, and went to +bed. It was about five o’clock in the evening when he woke up. He +doused his face at the washstand, put on his overcoat, and went +out. + +He ate at a little Italian restaurant where he and Otero used to split +a bowl of soup when things were going bad. But the place had changed. +New management, new waiters, new everything. Toledo seemed small and +dingy and quiet to Rico. He was a little bit puzzled. + +“Didn’t used to be like this,” he said. + +As soon as he finished his meal he walked over to Chiggi’s, which was +about two blocks away. But the place was dark and when Rico went up to +the door to peer in he saw that it had been padlocked by the Federal +Authorities. + +“Ain’t that a break?” he said. + +He had no place to go. + +There was a fruit store next to Chiggi’s and Rico went in. A little +Italian girl came to wait on him. + +“Listen, sister,” said Rico, “you know where Chiggi is now?” + +“I get my grandfather,” she said. + +She went into the back of the store and returned with an old +Italian who had crinkly gray hair and wore earrings. + +“Listen, mister,” said Rico, “could you tell me where Chiggi is now?” + +The old man just looked at him. Rico felt a little uneasy. + +“No speak English?” he asked. + +“Yes,” said the old man, “I speak good English. What do you want with +Chiggi?” + +“Well,” said Rico, “Chiggi used to be a pal of mine, but I been away +for three or four years and now I don’t know where to find him.” + +“Chiggi has had trouble,” said the old man; “he is in the prison.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico. “Atlanta, hunh?” + +“Yes,” said the old man, “Chiggi is in Atlanta. It is too bad. Chiggi +was good to the poor. When my wife was sick and my business was not +going good, Chiggi gave me money.” + +“Yeah,” said Rico. “Chiggi staked me too.” + +Rico took out a cigar and gave it to the old man. + +“Listen,” he went on, “do you know where any of Chiggi’s old bunch is?” + +“Yes,” said the old man, “Chiggi’s boy has got a place a couple of +blocks from here.” + +The old man wrote down the address for Rico. + +Young Chiggi was a dressed-up wop and thought he was a lot better than +his father. He wouldn’t even wait on a customer but sat all day in the +back of his joint reading the Police Gazette or playing solitaire. +Things were breaking good for Young Chiggi and he was thinking about +selling out and going to Chicago or Detroit. + +He had been in the beer and alcohol racket for over three years, first +with his father, then by himself, and now with Bill Hackett, known as +Chicago Red. He bought diamonds and automobiles and he kept his woman +in a big apartment. + +When Rico was shown into his office by one of his bartenders, he didn’t +even look up but went on with his game of solitaire. The bartender went +out and Rico sat down across from Young Chiggi. + +“Chiggi,” said Rico, “I want to talk to you a minute.” + +Chiggi didn’t look up. + +“All right,” he said. + +“Listen,” said Rico, “put them cards down. I want to talk business.” + +Chiggi looked up and stared at Rico. + +“Say,” he said, “where the hell do you get that stuff! I don’t know +you.” + +“Your old man was a pal of mine,” said Rico. + +“Well, Buddy,” said Chiggi, “that don’t help you none with me, ’cause +me and the old man had a split-up. He thought he was so damn wise, see, +but they got him behind the bars and I’m running loose.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico, “well, that’s a tough break for the old man. You +see, your old man staked me once and I thought I’d look him up and get +even. I’m pretty well heeled right now and I’m looking for a place to +lay in.” + +Chiggi looked at Rico with interest. + +“Looking for a place to lay in, hunh? Bulls after you?” + +“Yeah,” said Rico. + +Chiggi put his cards away. Then he took out a couple of cigars and +offered Rico one. They sat smoking. + +“Well,” said Chiggi, “maybe I can take care of you.” + +“That’s the talk,” said Rico; “got some rooms up above?” + +“No,” said Chiggi, “but a friend of mine’s got a boarding house next +door that’s O.K. Now about that jack the old man staked you to, you can +give it to me, ’cause he owes me plenty.” + +Rico said nothing, but took out his fold and counted out a hundred and +fifty dollars. He knew he had to buy his way in. + +Rico selected his room carefully. It was on the side of the house and +could not be reached from the outside as there were no porches near +it. It had two doors, one opening into the front hall, one into the +back hall. The doors themselves were heavy and could be barred from the +inside. It was a good hide-out. + +Rico’s plans were vague. He had plenty of money and if he went easy +with it he would be able to live a year or more in comparative comfort. +But Rico could not bear the thought of a year of inactivity. What would +he do with himself? He had no vices. He couldn’t amuse himself by +getting drunk, or taking dope, or playing faro. He didn’t mind losing +a couple hundred dollars gambling occasionally, but you can’t put in a +whole year gambling. He thought if things went right that maybe he’d +move on to New York, but that would be risky and one slip and he was +gone. No, he didn’t see much ahead of him. + +Rico spent most of the day in his room, lying on the bed reading, or +else going over and over in his mind the episodes leading to his rise +and fall. The resentment he had been experiencing ever since he got to +Hammond had grown till it had become almost an obsession. He was never +in a good humor. When he was not reading or thinking about Chicago he +would pace up and down his room and wait for night. He got so, finally, +that he could sleep twelve hours every day and this helped some. + +At night he would go down to Chiggi’s and play pool or shoot crap. +Sometimes there would be a big poker game and he would sit in. He was +known as Youngstown Louis and nobody in the place had the slightest +idea who he really was. + +Everything was against Rico. The very virtues that had been +responsible for his rise were liabilities in his present situation. He +had no outlet for his energy; the self-discipline which had marked him +out from his fellows was of no use to him here; and the tenacity of +purpose that had kept him at high tension while he was the Vettori gang +chief had no object to expend itself on. + +“I am nobody, nobody,” Rico would say. + +Sometimes at night he would go to one of the call-houses on a nearby +street and spend a couple of hours with one of the women. But he got +very little pleasure from these infrequent debauches. He used to wonder +what had happened to the blonde he had spent old Chiggi’s stake on, and +was positive that if he could find her it would do him a lot of good, +but she had disappeared and nobody had any idea where she had gone. + +Rico tried to buy his way in. Chiggi was agreeable but Chicago Red was +not. Chicago Red had taken a dislike to Rico from the first and never +missed an opportunity of bullying him. Chicago Red had left Chicago +under a cloud. There was a rumor that he had got in bad with a +South Side gang over there and had left to keep from getting bumped +off. Red was over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds; +he had muscles like a wrestler, a bull neck, and enormous hairy hands. + +Rico kept away from him as much as possible to avoid trouble. But Red +seemed to take a delight in worrying Rico, probably because, despite +the fact that Rico never argued with him, always let him have his way, +he felt that Rico was not impressed. + +One night there was a big poker game going on in Chiggi’s back room. +Rico was winning. About midnight Red came in and wanted to sit in, but +there was no place for him. + +“Louis,” he said, “get the hell off that chair and let a man get in the +game.” + +“Not a chance,” said Rico. + +“Listen, Dago....” said Red. + +“Don’t call me, Dago,” said Rico, looking hard at Red. + +“Get off that chair or I’ll throw you off,” said Red starting toward +Rico. + +But Chiggi grabbed Red from behind and pulled him into the next +room. + +When the game broke up, Chiggi came in and said to Rico: + +“When you get settled up, come in the office.” + +After the other players had gone Rico went into Chiggi’s office. Red +was sitting with his feet on the desk and Chiggi was walking up and +down. + +“Well, Dago,” said Red, “did you clean ’em?” + +“Yeah,” said Rico. + +“Sit down, Louis,” said Chiggi; “we want to talk to you.” + +Rico sat down. + +“Louis,” said Chiggi, “I don’t know whether you’re wised up or not, +but we been hitting the rocks. The bulls got two of our men and a big +load of alcohol, and a couple of days ago another one of our carts got +hijacked at Monroe. See, so we’re pretty low.” + +“Yeah?” said Rico. + +“Well,” said Chiggi, “we want a stake, don’t we, Red?” + +“Yeah,” said Red, “and we ain’t any too particular where we get +it.” + +“Well,” said Rico, getting up, “you got a lot of guys around here. Ask +them.” + +“Listen, Red,” said Chiggi, “you keep your goddam lip out of this.” + +Red got to his feet suddenly and stood glaring at Chiggi. + +“Why, you lousy small-time wop, I guess you don’t know who you’re +talking to, do you?” He raised his arm and pointed at Rico. “You see +that guy there, he thinks he’s the best there is, got it? He thinks +he’s the biggest dago outside of Italy, and here you go honeying after +him like we couldn’t get a stake no place else. But I ain’t begging no +goddam dago to stake me.” + +Chiggi looked helplessly at Rico. + +“Yeah,” said Red, “and while we’re talking, I’m getting sick of the way +that bird there sits around and don’t say nothing and acts like he was +God-only-knows-who. Yeah, I’m getting good and sick of it, Chiggi.” + +“Well,” said Chiggi, “when you get real sick of it, why beat it.” + +Red laughed. + +“Gonna stick to your dago buddy, are you? Well, he’s got the jack. But +what’re you gonna do when you need a guy that’s got the guts?” + +This was too much for Rico. He said: + +“What do you know about guts? I guess you ain’t so tough or they +wouldn’t’ve run you out of Chi.” + +“Will you listen to that!” said Red; “all right, buddy, you said your +piece and you sure spoke out of turn. Why, dago, where I come from you +wouldn’t live five minutes. Now I’m gonna show you how they treat smart +dagos in Chi.” + +Red made a motion toward his coat pocket, but Rico beat him to it. He +pulled his gun from the holster under his armpit and covered Red. + +“Red,” he said, “in Chicago I wouldn’t let you rob filling-stations for +me.” + +Red stood with his hands up, looking from Rico to Chiggi. + +“Don’t bump him off, Louis,” said Chiggi. + +“I wouldn’t waste a bullet on him,” said Rico; then glaring at Red he +went on: “You been getting away with this rough stuff too long, +Red. I’m Cesare Bandello!” + +Red’s mouth fell open and he stood staring at Rico. Chiggi took Rico by +the arm. + +“Are you Rico?” he cried. + +Rico nodded and put up his gun. Red dropped his hands, sank into a +chair and wiped the sweat from his face. + +“You sit down, Chiggi,” said Rico, “and I’ll do the talking.” + +Chiggi sat down. + +“Lord,” said Red, “so you’re Rico? Steve Gollancz told me you was a big +fellow.” + +“Steve never seen me,” said Rico. + +Chiggi leaned forward eagerly. + +“You gonna put in with us, Louis?” + +Rico said: + +“I’ll put in a third, but I got to boss the works or I won’t put in +nothing.” + +Chiggi looked at Red. + +“That’s O.K. with me,” said Red. + +Chiggi got to his feet and danced a few steps. + +“Hurray for us,” he cried. + + + VI + +Under Rico’s guidance Chiggi’s gang prospered. Chicago Red, +impressed by Rico’s reputation, carried out his orders and never +argued; Chiggi also. And Chiggi’s men were influenced by the attitude +of their former bosses. Rico made decisions quickly, seldom asked +for advice, and was nearly always right. Chiggi and Red were used to +doing things on a small scale and hated to split with the authorities, +but Rico had been in the game long enough to know that to make money +you’ve got to spend money. Through Antonio Rizzio, one of Old Chiggi’s +friends, now a minor politician, Rico got in touch with some of the +high-ups and bought protection. Chiggi’s alcohol runners were no +longer picked up and in a little while Chiggi’s business had doubled. +But, due to this increase in business, a new difficulty had risen: +hijackers. They waylaid Chiggi’s men and robbed them of their cargoes. +There was a well-organized gang of them around Monroe, Michigan, and +they began to cut into Chiggi’s profits. Rico tried rerouting his +runners and this was successful for a month or two, but the Monroe +gang soon got on to it, and the trouble started over again. Rico took +a chance. He ordered three sho-sho guns from a firm in Chicago. These +small automatic rifles, as formidable as machine guns, were concealed +in special cases under the seats of the trucks. Rico instructed his +runners in the use of them and after a few encounters the Monroe gang +decided that it would be more lucrative and also safer to confine their +hijacking to smaller bootleggers who were not equipped with artillery. + +Rico was pleased with his success, but hardly satisfied. This was small +stuff and, as he could take no active part in it, he had a good deal +of time on his hands. Of course he was a pretty big guy for Toledo +and around Chiggi’s he was king, but, after all, Chiggi’s boys were a +mighty poor lot, worse even than Little Arnie’s, and their adulation +wasn’t worth much. + +But that wasn’t the worst of it Rico knew that he had blundered badly +in revealing his identity to Chiggi and Chicago Red. Neither of them +was very dependable. Chiggi talked incessantly, contradicting +himself, forgetting what he had said two minutes after he had said it; +and all this talk was directed at one object: self-glorification. An +association with Cesare Bandello, of Chicago, was something to brag +about and Rico knew it. Chicago Red as a rule was not very talkative, +but when he got drunk he would boast about his former connection with +Steve Gollancz. Rico feared them both. Sometimes when the three of them +were alone together he would caution them. There was only one thing +that reassured Rico. Chiggi’s prosperity depended on him, and Rico knew +that both Chicago Red and Chiggi were aware of it. + +At about seven o’clock one night Rico went out for supper. He ate at +the little Italian restaurant where he and Otero used to split a bowl +of soup when things were bad. He always sat facing the front door at a +table in the back of the place. In this position he could see everyone +who came in and also he could keep an eye on the people at the tables. +On his right and a couple of feet ahead of him was a little window +which looked out on an alley. While Rico was finishing his coffee +he happened to glance at the window. When he did, a face which had been +pressed against the window-pane was hastily withdrawn. Rico got up, put +on his hat and paid his check. + +“I’m going out the back way,” he said to the counterman. + +“O.K., boss.” + +“If anybody comes in here and asks for Louis De Angelo take a good look +at him.” + +“All right, boss,” said the counterman. + +Rico went out through the kitchen door, which opened onto a little +cement court where the refuse from the restaurant was dumped. The big +garbage cans along the wall were in the shadow and, as Rico stepped +out, a man jumped up from behind one of the cans and put a gun against +him. Rico threw himself to the ground, the gun exploded harmlessly, and +the man made a break for the alley, stumbling over the cans. Rico fired +from a prone position and missed. Then he jumped to his feet and ran +out into the alley. The man had disappeared. + +“God,” said Rico, “if that boy didn’t almost pull one on me.” + +One of the cooks opened the back door and put his head out. + +“What the hell!” he said. + +“Damned if I know,” said Rico; “a couple of guys was popping at each +other out here in the alley.” + +“Some of them bootleggers,” said the cook. + +Rico took a cab back to Chiggi’s. He was very much perturbed. Whoever +that boy was he certainly meant business. + +“Well,” said Rico, “somebody has sure spilled something.” + +As soon as he came in Chiggi rushed up to him and grabbed him by the +arm. + +“Louis,” he said, “Red’s drunk and we can’t do nothing with him.” + +Rico stared at Chiggi. + +“Where’s he been?” + +“Why,” said Chiggi, “he’s been on a bat with some Chicago guys.” + +“Hell,” cried Rico, “where is he?” + +Chiggi led Rico back into one of the private rooms. Red was +sitting at a table with a half empty quart of whiskey on the table +beside him. When he saw Rico he cried: + +“If it ain’t old Rico himself! By God, I been drinking all day. I can +hardly see but nobody can put me under the table, ain’t that so, boss? +Yes sir, I’d like to see the bastard that could drink Rico’s buddy +under the table.” + +Rico turned to Chiggi. + +“A guy tried to pop me over at Frank’s. This bird has spilled +something. I got to be moving.” + +Chiggi’s eyes got big. + +“You gonna pull out, Louis?” + +“I got to,” said Rico; “somebody’s looking for that seven grand.” + +“Jesus, Louis,” said Chiggi, “what we gonna do without you?” + +“Best you can,” said Rico. “Go get me a cab, Chiggi, I’m moving right +now.” + +Chiggi went out of the room. Rico took Red by the shoulders and shook +him. Red blinked his eyes. + +“Red,” said Rico, “was you on a bat with some Chicago guys?” + +“Was I?” cried Red; “spent a hundred bucks on them birds.” + +“Any of them know me?” + +Red rolled his head from side to side, and sang, then he smashed his +fists down on the table. + +“Rico,” he said, “old Red’s going back to the big burg, yes sir, old +Red’s tired of this tank town. Old Red’s got a good stake now and he’s +moving. They run me out once but I ain’t scairt of them no more. I’m +going back and show ’em who Red Hackett is. Yeah bo!” + +Rico shook him. + +“Listen, Red,” he said, “did any of them birds know me?” + +Red lolled his head, trying to focus his eyes on Rico. + +“One of them guys was a personal friend of yours,” said Red; “fact, he +asked me if you wasn’t laying up here, see, he knew all right; wasn’t +no harm in telling him nothing.” + +“Who was he?” shouted Rico. + +Red thought for a moment then he said: + +“I can’t seem to remember. He’s a wop, all right, a bald-headed wop.” + +“Scabby!” Rico exclaimed. + +Good God, wasn’t that a break! Scabby hated him and Scabby would sell +his own mother out for a split on seven grand. Rico felt resentful. +Just his damn luck to get mixed up with a bunch of yellow-bellies and +softies. + +Chiggi came in. + +“Cab out in front, Louis,” he said. + +Rico pointed at Red. + +“That guy spilled the works. For two bits I’d bump him off.” + +Rico was furious. He made a move toward his armpit, but one of the +bartenders opened the door and yelled: + +“The bulls!” + +“What!” cried Rico. + +The bartender was trembling all over and his face was white. + +“Police car out in front, boss.” + +Rico made a dive for the door but Chiggi grabbed him by the arm. + +“Out the back, Louis.” + +Chiggi leapt across the room and pulled a switch and all the lights in +the place went out. Then he took Rico by the arm and led him through +the hall and out into a little court at the rear. + +“So long, Louis,” he said. + +Chiggi slammed the door. Rico was in utter darkness. + +“A hell of a chance I got,” he said. + +He stepped cautiously out into the alley back of the court and took a +look around. The alley was blind to his right; to his left it came out +onto a main thoroughfare and there was a bright arc light at that end. +Rico took out his gun and moved slowly toward the arc light. + +“You can’t never tell,” he said; then, in an excess of rage: “They’ll +never put no cuffs on this baby.” + +When he was within fifty feet of the main thoroughfare a man appeared +at the end of the alley way, a big man in a derby hat. He saw Rico +and immediately blew a blast on his whistle. Rico raised his gun and +pulled the trigger; it missed fire. + +Rico was frantic. He wanted to live. For the first time in his life he +addressed a vague power which he felt to be stronger than himself. + +“Give me a break! Give me a break!” he implored. + +The man in the derby hat raised his arm and Rico rushed him, pumping +lead. Rico saw a long spurt of flame and then something hit him a +sledge-hammer blow in the chest. He took two steps, dropped his gun, +and fell flat on his face. He heard a rush of feet up the alley. + +“Mother of God,” he said, “is this the end of Rico?” + + + + + Transcriber’s Notes + + + 1. Italicised words are indicated by _underscores_. + + 2. Basic misspelled words have been corrected. Local speech spelling + and grammar has been left unchanged. + + 3. “* * * * *” indicates a “thought break” represented in the printed + book as a larger gap between paragraphs. + + 4. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the + Levenshtein Distance. + + Corrections: + + Page Source Correction Edit distance + + 208 Valesquez Velázquez 1 + 260 shriek of breaks shriek of brakes 2 + 280 pursuade persuade 1 + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79392 *** diff --git a/79392-h/79392-h.htm b/79392-h/79392-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e03ed5b --- /dev/null +++ b/79392-h/79392-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8012 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <meta name="format-detection" content="telephone=no,date=no,address=no,email=no,url=no"> + <title> + Little caesar | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + text-indent: 1em; + margin-top: .5em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .5em; +} + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0em;} + +p.narrow { + margin-top: 0; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.p1 {margin-top: 1em;} +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} +.padr1 {padding-right: 1em;} +.padr7 {padding-right: 7em;} +.mt4 {margin-top: 4em;} + +.small70 {font-size: 70%;} +.small80 {font-size: 80%;} +.small85 {font-size: 85%;} +.smaller90 {font-size: 90%;} +.larger120 {font-size: 120%;} + +span.corr {border-bottom: 1px dotted red} + +cite.normal { + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb { + border: none; /* Removes the default border */ + height: 0.5em; /* Ensures some height space is rendered */ + margin: 0; /* Removes any default margin that might create space */ +} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +.tdl {text-align: left;} + +table.correctionTable {width: 75%;} +td.bottom { vertical-align: bottom; } +.width20 {width: 20%; } +.width40 {width: 40%;} + +.pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; + border: thin solid #585858; padding: .1em .2em; +} /* page numbers */ + +blockquote { + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +figcaption {font-weight: bold;} +figcaption p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: .2em; text-align: inherit;} + +/* Images */ + +img { + max-width: 100%; + height: auto; +} +img.w100 {width: 100%;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.illowp100 { + width: 100%; + max-width: 30em + } + +.illowe5 {width: 5em;} + +p.dcap {text-indent: 0em;} + +p.dcap::first-letter { + float: left; + font-size: 3em; + line-height: 0.85; + padding-right: 0.1em; +} + +/* Transcriber's notes */ +.transnote { + border: 1px solid; + font-size: small; + padding: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 5em; + font-family: sans-serif, serif +} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide { + display: none; + visibility: hidden +} + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79392 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter hide illowp100"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="book cover" role="doc-cover"> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> + +<blockquote role="doc-epigraph"> +<p>The first law of every being, is to preserve itself and live. You sow +hemlock, and expect to see ears of corn ripen.</p> +<footer class="right padr1"><i>Macchiavelli</i></footer> +</blockquote> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> + +<p class="center larger120">By W • R • BURNETT</p> + +<h1 class="p2">LITTLE<br>CAESAR</h1> + +<figure class="figcenter"> + <img class="illowe5 mt4" src="images/logo.png" alt="logo flying bird in black triangle"> +</figure> + +<p class="center p1"><span class="smaller90">THE LITERARY GUILD OF AMERICA</span><br><span class="padr7 small85">NEW YORK</span> <span class="small85">MCMXXIX</span></p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> + +<p class="center small80">COPYRIGHT, 1929, BY DIAL PRESS, INC.</p> +<p class="center small70 p6">MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> + +<div role="doc-dedication"> +<p class="center">To<br>MARJORIE</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> + +<p class="narrow noindent"> +<span class="small80">NOTE:</span> The characters and events in this book are entirely imaginary. +</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="part1-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_1" role="doc-pagebreak">1</div> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="part1-hd">PART I</h2> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_3" role="doc-pagebreak">3</div> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dcap">SAM VETTORI sat staring down into Halsted Street. He was a big man, +fat as a hog, with a dark oily complexion, kinky black hair and a fat +aquiline face. In repose he had an air of lethargic good-nature, due +entirely to his bulk; for in reality he was sullen, bad-tempered and +cunning. From time to time he dragged out a huge gold watch and looked +at it with raised eyebrows and pursed lips.</p> + +<p>Near him at a round table sat Otero, called The Greek, Tony Passa, and +Sam Vettori’s lieutenant, Rico, playing stud for small stakes. Under +the green-shaded lamp Otero’s dark face looked livid and cavernous. +He sat immobile and said nothing, win or lose. Tony, robust and rosy, +scarcely twenty years old, watched each turn of the cards intently, +shouting with joy when his luck was good, cursing when it was bad, more +out of excitement than interest in the stakes. Rico <span class="pagenum" id="Page_4" role="doc-pagebreak">4</span>sat with his hat +tilted over his eyes, his pale thin face slightly drawn, his fingers +tapping. Rico always played to win.</p> + +<p>Vettori, puffing, pulled himself to his feet and began to walk up and +down.</p> + +<p>“Where you suppose he is?” he asked the ceiling. “I told him eight +o’clock. It is half-past.”</p> + +<p>“Joe never knows what time it is,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>“Joe’s no good,” said Rico without taking his eyes off the cards, “he’s +soft.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Vettori, stopping to watch the game out of boredom, “maybe +so. But we can’t do without him, Rico. I tell you, Rico, he can go +anywhere. A front is what he’s got. Swell hotels? What does it mean to +that boy? He says to the clerk, I would like please a suite. A suite! +You see, Rico. We can’t do without him.”</p> + +<p>Rico tapped on the table, flushing slightly.</p> + +<p>“All right, Sam,” he said, “some day he’ll turn yellow. Hear what I +say. He’s not right. What’s all this dancing? A man don’t dance for +money.”</p> + +<p>Sam laughed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Rico! You don’t know Joe.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_5" role="doc-pagebreak">5</span>Tony stared at Rico.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “Joe’s right. I know what I’m saying. All that dancing +is a front. He’s smart. Have they ever got him once?”</p> + +<p>Rico slammed down his cards. He hated Joe and he knew that Tony and +Vettori knew it.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said, “hear what I say. He’ll turn yellow some day. A +man don’t take money for dancing.”</p> + +<p>“I win,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Rico pushed the money toward him and got to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Well, if he don’t show up in ten minutes I’ll take the air,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“You stay where you are,” said Vettori, his face hardening.</p> + +<p>Tony watched the two of them intently. Otero counted his money. One +day Vettori said to Rico, “Rico, you are getting too big for us.” Tony +remembered the look he had seen in Rico’s eyes. Lately they had all +been talking about it. Rico was getting too big for them. Scabby, the +informer, said: “Tony, mark what I say. It’s Rico or Sam. One or the +other.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_6" role="doc-pagebreak">6</span>“I’ll stay ten minutes,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Vettori sat down by the window and stared into Halsted Street.</p> + +<p>“Two-fifty,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>“I’ll match you for it,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Joe Massara opened the door and came in.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Vettori, “you call this eight o’clock?”</p> + +<p>Joe got out of a big ulster. He was in evening clothes. His black hair +was sleek and parted in the middle. He was vain of his resemblance to +the late Mr. Rudolph Valentino.</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” said Joe, “the bridge was up. Well, what’s the dirt?”</p> + +<p>“Draw up a chair,” said Vettori, “all of you.”</p> + +<p>They grouped themselves around the table under the green-shaded lamp. +Joe put his hands on the table so they could see his well-manicured +nails and the diamond ring the dancer, Olga Stassoff, had given him.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Vettori, “I’ll do the talking. I know what I got to say and +you birds keep quiet till I’m through....”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7" role="doc-pagebreak">7</span>“How long will it take?” asked Joe, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Shut up and listen,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“All right, all right,” said Vettori, patting them both, “no bad blood. +Now: ever hear of the Casa Alvarado?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Joe, “it’s an up and up place. One of Francis Wood’s +joints. I nearly got an engagement there once.”</p> + +<p>Rico spread out his hands.</p> + +<p>“See? They know him. He won’t do.”</p> + +<p>“No, they never seen me. It was all done through an agent.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Vettori, “that’s the place.”</p> + +<p>Joe looked startled. Rico smiled and taking off his hat began to comb +his hair with a little ivory pocket comb.</p> + +<p>“It’d be tough,” said Joe, “what’s in it?”</p> + +<p>“Plenty,” said Vettori. “They only bank once or twice a week. They’re +careless, get that; because they’ve never been tapped. It’s easy.”</p> + +<p>Joe took out a gold cigarette case which he handled with ostentation.</p> + +<p>“Well? I’m listening.”</p> + +<p>Vettori refused a cigarette and pulled out a <span class="pagenum" id="Page_8" role="doc-pagebreak">8</span>stogie. Downstairs a +jazzband began to play and a saxophone sent vibrations along the floor.</p> + +<p>“Nine o’clock,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Vettori lit his stogie.</p> + +<p>“They got a safe,” he said, “that a baby could crack. Too easy to talk +about. But that’s on the side. What we’re after is the cashier. The +place is lousy with jack. I got the lowdown from Scabby. Well, what do +you say, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” Rico cut in, “take it or leave it. We ain’t begging you.”</p> + +<p>Vettori’s face hardened but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>“If you say it’s good,” said Joe, “it’s good with me.”</p> + +<p>“All right, all right,” said Vettori. “Now, you Tony; we want a big +car. Get that. A big, fast car. Get one when I tell you. Steve’s got +the plates all ready. Yeah?”</p> + +<p>“I’m on, Sam.”</p> + +<p>Tony pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a flourish, but his hands +shook a little.</p> + +<p>“Rico and Otero,” said Vettori, looking at each in turn, “will handle +the rods. Yeah?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9" role="doc-pagebreak">9</span>Rico said nothing. But Otero smiled, showing his stained teeth, and +said:</p> + +<p>“That’s us, eh, Rico?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” Vettori went on, “I guess we got that over. Now, Joe, I want +you on the inside. Dress yourself up like you are, see, and fix it +so you’ll get there at midnight. All the whistles’ll be tooting and +everybody’ll be drunk and won’t know nothing. See? Now you get there +at midnight and go to the cigar counter for change. At twelve-five the +fun’ll begin. We’ll set our watches by telephone, because I don’t want +you here that night. All right. Rico and Otero come in quick, maybe +Tony, too, if you can get a good safe place to park. That’s up to Rico. +He’s bossing the job.”</p> + +<p>Rico looked at Joe.</p> + +<p>“Now, they’ll stick you up if everything’s O.K. If not, give them the +high sign and they’ll beat it. We ain’t taking no chances, because one +night don’t make much difference, only New Year’s Eve’s a good night, +see? All right. You play like you don’t know them, got it? But while +they’re working, you got your eyes open, see? And if <span class="pagenum" id="Page_10" role="doc-pagebreak">10</span>something +happens, you got a rod, but don’t use it. We got to watch that.”</p> + +<p>Vettori shifted his stogie and shook his finger sideways at Rico.</p> + +<p>“That’s your trouble, Rico. The Big Boy can’t fix murder. He can fix +anything but murder. Get that. You’re too quick with the lead. If that +guy over at the pool room’d died we wouldn’t none of us be sitting here +right now....”</p> + +<p>Otero broke in vehemently, surprising them.</p> + +<p>“But he had to! He had to! Rico does what is right.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Vettori, “but take it easy. Now, Joe, you got +your hands up, but you watch. If nothing happens nobody knows the +difference. But if something does happen you pull the rod and help +the boys get out. All right. Here’s the dope. Get what’s in the cash +register first. Get that because that’s easy. If things go right, +tackle the safe; it’ll probably be open. Another thing: no frisking in +the lobby. That’s too dangerous and takes too long. Let the yaps keep +their money. All right.”</p> + +<p>Vettori took a map from his pocket and spread <span class="pagenum" id="Page_11" role="doc-pagebreak">11</span>it out on the table. +The men crowded round him.</p> + +<p>“You go straight in,” said Vettori, marking the route with a pencil, +“on the right is the checkroom; watch the girls behind the counter, +Joe. On the left is the cigar-counter and the cashier’s desk. At the +end of the lobby is a big door; the real joint’s beyond that. If things +go right, nobody in the place’ll know it’s been stuck up, except maybe +some yaps in the lobby. Get the idea? With all them horns tooting and +all that damn noise, see? All right. On the right of the lobby is a +door and that goes into the manager’s office. The box is in there. The +manager’s a goddam bohunk and there ain’t an ounce of fight in him. +See? Scabby give me the lowdown.”</p> + +<p>Vettori rolled up his map, put it in his pocket, then looked at his +watch.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “got it all?”</p> + +<p>Joe turned his diamond ring round on his finger and looked at the table.</p> + +<p>“What’s the word, Joe?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“It’s a tough one, Rico. What’s the guarantee?”</p> + +<p>“Guarantee, hell!” cried Rico. “Why, a blind guy could do your stand.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12" role="doc-pagebreak">12</span>“Well, I ain’t doing no time for fifty bucks,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Vettori laughed.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give you a couple hundred now,” he said.</p> + +<p>Joe nodded.</p> + +<p>“All right. I’m in. Never mind the couple hundred.”</p> + +<p>They all got to their feet. Below them the jazzband was still playing +and the saxophone was still sending vibrations along the floor.</p> + +<p>“What’ll you have, boys,” said Vettori, “want some drinks sent up?”</p> + +<p>“Not me,” said Tony, “I’m going over and see my woman.”</p> + +<p>Otero clapped his hands.</p> + +<p>“He’s got a woman.”</p> + +<p>Rico hit Otero on the back.</p> + +<p>“The Greek’s got a woman too,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Otero with his hands cupped made a series of curves in the air. Joe was +patronizing; Olga Stassoff, the dancer, was his woman.</p> + +<p>“A beauty is she, Otero?”</p> + +<p>“Si, señor.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13" role="doc-pagebreak">13</span>“Well,” said Vettori, “want any drinks sent up?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Joe, “send me up a snort. I guess Rico’ll take milk.”</p> + +<p>Rico didn’t drink.</p> + +<p>“All right about Rico,” said Vettori in a good humor, “he’s a smart +boy.”</p> + +<p>Tony went out followed by Vettori.</p> + +<p>“I think I go see my woman,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Joe laughed. Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Goodbye, Otero. Give Seal Skin a rub for me.”</p> + +<p>When Otero had gone, Joe said:</p> + +<p>“Has old Seal Skin got The Greek hooked yet?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “he spends a lot of jack on her. She ain’t much to +look at and she’s pretty old, but what’s the difference?”</p> + +<p>Joe never could figure Rico out. Women didn’t seem to interest him.</p> + +<p>Rico went over to the window and stood looking out at the electric sign +on a level with his eyes.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14" role="doc-pagebreak">14</span> + CLUB<br> + <br> + P<br> + A<br> + L<br> + E<br> + R<br> + M<br> + O<br> + <br> + DANCING +</p> + +<p>Rico and Joe felt queer alone together. They were silent. Joe took out +his gold cigarette case and lit a cigarette. Snow began to fall past +the window.</p> + +<p>“Look,” said Rico, “it’s snowing.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Joe, looking up mechanically, “snowing hard.”</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p class="dcap">VETTORI was sitting in his little office on the main floor. On the +other side of the wall the jazzband was playing, but he paid no +attention. The noise of the jazzband was the same to him as <span class="pagenum" id="Page_15" role="doc-pagebreak">15</span>the +ticking of a clock to an ordinary person. He felt very pleasant and +comfortable over his bottle of wine and his plate of spaghetti. Things +were right!</p> + +<p>He congratulated himself on his subordinates. Each man a specialist. +Yes, yes! That was the way to do. None of this hit or miss stuff for +Sam Vettori. Rico the best gunman in Little Italy; a swelled head, all +right, but he can be handled, and there you are! Otero so crazy about +Rico he “don’t know nothing.” Follow Rico any place; do anything Rico +tells him. And handy with a rod. Well, well. Not bad for a Mexican. As +a rule foreigners were not right with Sam Vettori, but in general he +had an open mind, and Otero was the goods. And look at Joe Massara, +there was a man for you! A swell Italian who could pass anywhere. One +winter in Florida, so they say, Joe passed himself off as a count and +hooked a rich widow for plenty. Yes, yes! That was Joe for you. As an +inside man you couldn’t beat him. And Tony! He could drive a car sixty +miles an hour straight up the Tribune Tower. Only one thing, sometimes +Tony was undependable. Used to be <span class="pagenum" id="Page_16" role="doc-pagebreak">16</span>a choir boy at St. Dominick’s and +that stuff. But he had outgrown that, maybe; anyway he was dead scared +of Rico and that would shut his mouth.</p> + +<p>Vettori leaned back, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and +unbuttoned his vest. Spaghetti and wine, what is better!</p> + +<p>The band stopped playing. Bat Carillo, the bouncer, put his head in the +door.</p> + +<p>“Couple of hard guys looking for trouble, boss,” he said.</p> + +<p>Vettori looked up.</p> + +<p>“Yeah? Know them?”</p> + +<p>“Never seen them before.”</p> + +<p>Vettori heaved himself to his feet and walked with Carillo to the +swinging doors which separated the back-rooms and kitchen from the club +proper. He pushed the door open about a foot and peered in. Carillo +pointed.</p> + +<p>Vettori laughed and closed the door.</p> + +<p>“Some of them dumb Irish,” he said; “let ’em alone unless they get bad +and start something, then bounce ’em.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_17" role="doc-pagebreak">17</span>“O.K., boss,” said Carillo.</p> + +<p>Waiters passed Vettori in the corridor, sweat dropping from their +faces, steam rising from the dishes on the slanted trays. Vettori +rubbed his hands.</p> + +<p>“Business is good. Well, well! We won’t none of us die in the poor +house.”</p> + +<p>When he got back to his office he found Scabby, the informer, waiting +for him. Scabby was dark and undersized with a heavy, sullen, blotched +face. Passing as a police informer, he was in reality a member of the +Vettori gang. He played a dangerous game as he informed on other gangs. +His life wasn’t worth a cent and he was jumpy and quick with a gun.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, Giovanni,” said Vettori, “what’s the news?”</p> + +<p>“Everything’s jake,” said Scabby, taking off his hat and revealing a +shining bald head.</p> + +<p>Vettori called a waiter.</p> + +<p>“Some spaghetti for this man here,” he said, “and a bottle of wine.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the ticket,” said Scabby without smiling; <span class="pagenum" id="Page_18" role="doc-pagebreak">18</span>he never smiled; his +face was melancholy and lined, and sagged like a hound’s. “The boys on?”</p> + +<p>“All set,” said Vettori. “It looks easy.”</p> + +<p>Scabby nodded.</p> + +<p>“It ought to be. But no gunplay, get that, Sam. The Big Boy’d raise +hell if he knew what was up.”</p> + +<p>Vettori’s face hardened.</p> + +<p>“I heard that once, Scabby. That’s enough. This is too good to pass up.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Scabby, “I’ve had my say. But things ain’t what they +used to be, Sam. It’s getting dangerous. They’ve even got the Big Boy +scared. It’s the damn newspapers. They play that crime stuff off the +boards. Big headlines, see? That’s the trouble.”</p> + +<p>They sat silent. Vettori, absorbed, puffed on his stogie. Finally he +said:</p> + +<p>“Listen, Scabby, you ain’t heard nothing, see? I got to keep these boys +on their toes. Especially Joe. Don’t spill nothing about the Big Boy.”</p> + +<p>Scabby shook his head vigorously. Vettori took out his billfold and +handed Scabby a fifty.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19" role="doc-pagebreak">19</span>“That’s part of your split, Scabby. Keep your eyes open, that’s +all.”</p> + +<p>Scabby pocketed the money. The waiter came in bringing the spaghetti +and the wine. Carillo put his head in the door.</p> + +<p>“Reilly, the dick’s, up front.”</p> + +<p>Vettori nodded.</p> + +<p>“He’s O.K. If he sticks around, send him back in about half an hour.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Scabby, “I’ll be out of here in less than that.”</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p class="dcap">OTERO lay looking out the window at the electric sign across the street.</p> + +<p class="center"> + CLUB<br> + <br> + P<br> + A<br> + L<br> + E<br> + R<br> + M<br> + O<br> + <br> + DANCING +</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20" role="doc-pagebreak">20</span>Snow was falling past the windows. Otero lay smoking a big +twenty-five cent cigar and singing softly to himself. He always sang +when he was with Seal Skin.</p> + +<p>“Some snow,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>“Yeah, some snow,” said Seal Skin, who was sitting with her feet on the +window sill, smoking one of Otero’s cigars.</p> + +<p>“Heavy like cotton,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Seal Skin.</p> + +<p>“Where I used to be it never snowed.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“No, it never snowed.”</p> + +<p>Seal Skin blew out a cloud of smoke.</p> + +<p>“How come you ever left Mexico, Ramón?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t know.” Otero scratched his head. “I just left.”</p> + +<p>“Was they after you?”</p> + +<p>“No, I just left.”</p> + +<p>Otero got up and put his arms around Seal Skin.</p> + +<p>“Some girl,” he said.</p> + +<p>Seal Skin gave him a push.</p> + +<p>“Wait’ll I finish this.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21" role="doc-pagebreak">21</span>“Sure, sure,” said Otero, smiling and patting her on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Look,” said Seal Skin, “you’re a good guy, Ramón. But dumb. How come +you hang after Rico?”</p> + +<p>“Rico is a great man.”</p> + +<p>Seal Skin laughed out loud.</p> + +<p>“Yeah? Great, but careless. He’ll never die of old age.”</p> + +<p>Otero didn’t understand.</p> + +<p>“What you say?”</p> + +<p>“They’ll fill him full of lead. He’s too cocky.”</p> + +<p>Otero shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No, they’ll never get Rico.”</p> + +<p>“They get ’em all.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Otero, “they’ll never get Rico. Once I say to him, ‘Look, +you must be careful.’ But he say, ‘Not me, they’ll never get Rico.’”</p> + +<p>Seal Skin opened the window and flung her cigar down into the street. A +gust of cold air rushed into the overheated room.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” she said, “that’s bunk. Rico’s no different from anybody +else. You stick with Rico long enough and you’ll have a swell funeral. +Why <span class="pagenum" id="Page_22" role="doc-pagebreak">22</span>don’t you get into the beer racket? That’s safe.”</p> + +<p>“I go with Rico,” said Otero. “What do I care? I have no people. Once I +had a brother but they shot him.”</p> + +<p>“The cops?”</p> + +<p>“No, the rurales. He was with Villa.”</p> + +<p>“Who the hell’s Villa?”</p> + +<p>“Villa was a great man, like Rico.”</p> + +<p>Seal Skin got up and took a drink from a bottle on the bureau. Then she +said:</p> + +<p>“Let’s hit the hay, Ramón.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, sure,” said Otero.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p class="dcap">IT was nearly two o’clock when Tony left his woman. A lake wind was +blowing hard and the snow fell heavily past the street lights. Tony +muffled himself in his overcoat and pulled his cap low. He felt tired +and disgusted.</p> + +<p>At the corner near his home, he turned into Sicily Pete’s restaurant. +Three Italians were playing cards at a table in the back. Up front a +mechanical piano ground out <cite class="normal">The Rosary</cite>.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_23" role="doc-pagebreak">23</span>“Hello, Tony, how’s the boy?” said Pete.</p> + +<p>“Not so good,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>“You ain’t looking any too good, Tony,” said Pete.</p> + +<p>Tony ran his hands over his face and stared at his image in the mirror +behind the counter. Pale; circles under his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I’ll live,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>Pete smacked the counter with both hands.</p> + +<p>“Love of God! Sure you’ll live. You be O.K. tomorrow morning. I know, +Tony, my boy. Don’t forget I was a young fellow once. I know. I know.”</p> + +<p>“Sure you know,” said Tony, sarcastic.</p> + +<p>“Sure I do. You think I don’t know about that little red head. Hot +stuff, Tony, my boy. Only don’t be a fool. Save some for tomorrow +night.”</p> + +<p>Pete laughed shaking all over and smacked the counter with his hands.</p> + +<p>“What the hell’s wrong with you, Pete?” cried one of the card players.</p> + +<p>“Never you mind. All right, Tony, what’ll you have?”</p> + +<p>Tony couldn’t decide. Pete went to wait on one of the card players. The +mechanical piano finished <span class="pagenum" id="Page_24" role="doc-pagebreak">24</span><cite class="normal">The Rosary</cite> on a discord. Tony went over +and put a nickel in the slot.</p> + +<p>“I got a combination to go and two Javas,” cried Pete.</p> + +<p>The mechanical piano began to play <cite class="normal">O Sole Mio</cite>.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take a combination,” said Tony, “and a cup of Java.”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Pete; “I got two combinations, one to go and three on the +Java.”</p> + +<p>“How’s business, Pete?” asked Tony.</p> + +<p>“Oh, what you call so-so. Not good, not bad. I never get rich here.”</p> + +<p>“Why don’t you put in a line of bottled goods?” said Tony, smiling.</p> + +<p>Pete raised both hands over his head and brought them down hard on the +counter.</p> + +<p>“None of that for Sicily Pete. Oh no. Pete’s too smart for that. If the +bulls don’t get you, why, some of them gangsters do. I know. One say, +you buy from me; the other say, no, you buy from me. All the same. No +matter who you buy from, bango!”</p> + +<p>Pete brought Tony his combination and his coffee <span class="pagenum" id="Page_25" role="doc-pagebreak">25</span>and stood at the +counter with him while he ate it.</p> + +<p>“Tony,” said Pete, putting his head on one side, “you know you look +like your old man. Other day when you was in here I say to the missus, +look, ain’t he just like his old man? Well, well. That is good. A boy +should look like his old man. That is a good sign.”</p> + +<p>“Knew the old man pretty well, didn’t you, Pete?” said Tony, finishing +his coffee.</p> + +<p>“Yes, pretty well. When he was a young fellow he was like you. Full of +pep and always after the girls. But I don’t know, your mama she got +hold of him, then he wasn’t like he used to be. He wasn’t like the same +fellow. Pretty soon he died.”</p> + +<p>Tony laughed.</p> + +<p>“Hard on the old lady, ain’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Love of God, no,” said Pete, an expression of acute misery on his +face, “you don’t get me, Tony. I mean he got to be a good fellow, like +me. Work, work, that’s all he knew. Well, work is a good thing. It +keeps you out of trouble, but I don’t know....”</p> + +<p>Pete wiped the sweat from his forehead and <span class="pagenum" id="Page_26" role="doc-pagebreak">26</span>meditated. Tony flipped +him a fifty-cent piece. The mechanical piano stopped on a prolonged, +slurred discord.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I’ll hit for home,” said Tony, “so long, Pete.”</p> + +<p>“Good night, Tony,” said Pete, with one of his blandest smiles, “come +in again.”</p> + +<p>The wind struck Tony in the face as he left the restaurant. The streets +were white and silent. Tony walked home slowly, tired and disgusted.</p> + +<p>As he entered the flat he saw a dim light in the front room. He tried +to sneak into his bedroom, but his mother heard him. She rose from her +chair, a monstrous silhouette against the dim front room light.</p> + +<p>“A fine time for you to come in, Antonio,” she said. “Have you been out +again with them good-for-nothing loafers?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Tony, in a bad temper.</p> + +<p>“So...!” said his mother, “you don’t even lie any more. Well, well! You +are doing fine. Pretty soon you won’t come home at all, you bum.”</p> + +<p>“You said a mouthful,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>“Sure, you won’t listen to your mother. Some <span class="pagenum" id="Page_27" role="doc-pagebreak">27</span>day you’ll remember +what I told you. You loaf with crooks and bums long enough, you’ll see +what will happen.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Tony, going into his room and banging the door behind +him.</p> + +<p>His mother stood in the middle of the room for a minute, then she put +out the light and sat in the dark, crying.</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THE little blonde check-girl helped Joe take off his big ulster, her +hand lingering on his arm. He handed her a quarter.</p> + +<p>“Don’t go on a bat with that two-bits,” he said.</p> + +<p>“No sir,” said the check-girl.</p> + +<p>She watched him walk across the long dance-floor, pick his way among +the crowded tables, bowing from time to time to one he had jostled, and +disappear through the employees’ door at the back. Then she put checks +on his coat and hat and hung them up.</p> + +<p>“God, what a hot-looking man,” she said; “I don’t see how that little +hunky got him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28" role="doc-pagebreak">28</span>Olga Stassoff was just putting the finishing touches to her +make-up. Joe came in softly and stood watching her. She began to sing.</p> + +<p>“If you’re singing for me,” said Joe, “you can stop any time.”</p> + +<p>Olga turned around.</p> + +<p>“Well, what are you doing here? Broke?”</p> + +<p>“Shut up,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Then he turned and walked out of the room. Olga jumped to her feet and +ran after him. She caught him near the employees’ door. He pushed her +away.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t that a fine way to say hello to a guy!” he said. “Why, you must +think you got me roped and hog-tied.”</p> + +<p>“I was just kidding, Joe,” said Olga, “honest I didn’t mean it. I was +just kidding.”</p> + +<p>“Well, get this,” said Joe, “I’m goddam sick of that line. What do you +take me for? That goes big with some of your swell boy friends who’ve +got ugly wives and ain’t any too particular, but me! I don’t take that +kind of talk from nobody.”</p> + +<p>Olga put her arms around him, but he pushed her away.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_29" role="doc-pagebreak">29</span>“Listen, Joe,” she said, “I got good news for you, so get out +of your fighting clothes and come to earth. Can’t you take a little +kidding?”</p> + +<p>Joe took out his gold cigarette case and selected a cigarette. He +always smoked the best, when Olga had plenty of money, and he usually +carried three or four different brands. With a flourish he put away his +case, then, very preoccupied, he placed the selected cigarette on the +back of his left hand and, with a slight tap of his right hand, flipped +it into his mouth. Olga laughed.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Joe, “spill the good news.”</p> + +<p>DeVoss, the manager, came through the swinging doors.</p> + +<p>“Have you told him yet, Olga?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Joe gave the manager a most ingratiating smile.</p> + +<p>“What’s the big talk, Mr. DeVoss? Am I missing something?”</p> + +<p>“You sure are,” said DeVoss. “The Stranskys broke their contract and +I’m putting you on in their place.”</p> + +<p>Joe leapt into the air and executed a twinkle. Olga burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Joe, “how much?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30" role="doc-pagebreak">30</span>“One hundred to start, Joe, then we’ll see.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Joe, “I can’t buy no limousines with that, but I’ll take +it.”</p> + +<p>Joe and DeVoss shook hands.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said the manager, “there’s a girl out here who’s just dying to +dance with you, Joe.”</p> + +<p>Joe shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t like that stuff. They always think they got to hand you +something. What the hell! I don’t want no dame handing me nothing.”</p> + +<p>Olga put her hand over her mouth.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry about that, Joe,” said DeVoss, “she already asked me about +that and I told her you’d be insulted so she gave me a ten.” DeVoss +took a crumpled bill out of his pocket and handed it to Joe. “There, +now get this. She’s an up and up girl and she means lots of business to +this place. Her old man’s got a couple of million bucks and she’s the +real thing. All right, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, sure,” said Joe, “always willing to oblige.”</p> + +<p>DeVoss went through the swinging doors and stood waiting for Joe on the +other side. Olga took Joe by the arm.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31" role="doc-pagebreak">31</span>“Listen,” she said, “none of your funny business now. Just do your +stuff and leave it at that. I’m on to these society women. I know what +they want.”</p> + +<p>Joe leapt into the air and executed another twinkle.</p> + +<p>“Alley up!” he cried, “don’t you trust me, baby?”</p> + +<p>Olga put her hands on her hips and began to laugh. How could you be +sore at a guy like that?</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p class="dcap">RICO was standing in front of his mirror, combing his hair with a +little ivory pocket comb. Rico was vain of his hair. It was black and +lustrous, combed straight back from his low forehead and arranged in +three symmetrical waves.</p> + +<p>Rico was a simple man. He loved but three things: himself, his hair and +his gun. He took excellent care of all three.</p> +</section> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="part2-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_33" role="doc-pagebreak">33</div> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="part2-hd">PART II</h2> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_35" role="doc-pagebreak">35</div> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dcap">HEAR me,” said Rico, his face twitching, “he’s turned yellow. He’s +turned yellow. What the hell you expect from a choir boy!”</p> + +<p>Otero said nothing but sat with his chair tipped back against the wall +smoking a cigarette, his eyes closed. Sam Vettori stood in the middle +of the room and stared at his watch.</p> + +<p>“Keep your shirt on, Rico,” said Vettori, “you’re on edge.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, Rico,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Carillo came in without knocking. Vettori put away his watch.</p> + +<p>“Well!”</p> + +<p>“O.K., boss,” said Carillo, “Tony’s in the alley.”</p> + +<p>Vettori took out his watch again.</p> + +<p>“Rico, it’s eleven-thirty-five. What do you say?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s get going.”</p> + +<p>Otero got slowly to his feet, stamped out his cigarette, and, taking +the riot gun from the table <span class="pagenum" id="Page_36" role="doc-pagebreak">36</span>in front of him, slipped it under his +overcoat. Rico examined his big automatic.</p> + +<p>Carillo went out, softly closing the door. Otero walked over and patted +Rico on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“O.K. now, eh, Rico?”</p> + +<p>Rico smiled. Vettori’s face was covered with sweat and he pulled out a +big white silk handkerchief to mop it.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “from now on you boss the job. Only, get this: for the +love of God, no gunwork. That’s all. I ain’t ripe for the rope.”</p> + +<p>Rico said nothing. Otero shrugged.</p> + +<p>Vettori, still mopping his face, opened a window and a gust of cold air +rushed in.</p> + +<p>Rico took out his little ivory pocket comb and mechanically combed his +hair. Then he put on his hat and tilted it over his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said to Otero, “let’s go.”</p> + +<p>Otero followed Rico out. Vettori called:</p> + +<p>“Make it clean, Rico. Make it clean.”</p> + +<p>They went down the back stairs. Carillo was waiting at the foot of the +stairs and held the alley door open for them. The alley way was dark +and Otero stumbled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_37" role="doc-pagebreak">37</span>“Caramba!”</p> + +<p>“Watch that gun,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Tony was sitting at the wheel of a big, open Cadillac. He tossed his +cigarette away and said:</p> + +<p>“Well, here we are.”</p> + +<p>Rico said nothing, but got into the front seat with Tony. Otero got +into the back seat. Carillo stood looking at them for a moment, then +closed the door. Tony stepped on the starter.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “let’s go, but take it easy. We got lots of +time.”</p> + +<p>They took it easy. Tony drove along as leisurely as though they were +going to a New Year’s party. Rico leaned back and smoked, watching all +the passing cars. Otero, who had removed the riot gun and had it on the +seat beside him, was sitting bolt upright, his hands on his knees. He +could never get used to riding in an automobile. Rico turned and saw +the gun.</p> + +<p>“Put that rod on the floor,” he said.</p> + +<p>Otero obeyed.</p> + +<p>It had got colder. The snow was no longer falling and a chilly wind was +blowing up in gusts from the lake. The streets were nearly deserted. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38" role="doc-pagebreak">38</span>Over west a whistle began to blow, discordant and shrill.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Tony, nodding in the direction of the whistle, “it won’t +be long now.”</p> + +<p>But Rico leaned over and hissed in his ear.</p> + +<p>“Police car!”</p> + +<p>A big Packard with a hooded machine-gun in the back seat passed them. +There were two plain-clothes men in the front and two in the back.</p> + +<p>“What’ll I do?” asked Tony.</p> + +<p>One of the men leaned out and stared back at them.</p> + +<p>“Jesus,” said Tony, “he’s looking at us.”</p> + +<p>“Keep your shirt on,” said Rico, putting his hand on Tony’s arm.</p> + +<p>Otero took a cigarette from his pack and rolled it between his palms.</p> + +<p>The police car slowed up. Rico’s fingers closed on Tony’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Here’s an alley,” said Rico, “duck!”</p> + +<p>Tony took the turn on two wheels, just missing a parked car. Otero was +thrown from one end of his seat to the other, losing his cigarette. +The Cadillac’s exhaust roared in the narrow alley way. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_39" role="doc-pagebreak">39</span>There was +nothing but darkness ahead of them.</p> + +<p>“It’s a blind,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico, “I know this place like a book. Turn to your right at +the end.”</p> + +<p>Rico leaned out and stared back. Then he laughed.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t that like the damn dummies! Nothing in sight.”</p> + +<p>They came back to Michigan Boulevard by a wide detour. Here the wind +blew fiercely, raising little whirlwinds of snow. Now there were +whistles blowing in all parts of town. Rico looked at his wrist-watch.</p> + +<p>“Five of twelve. All right, Tony. Step on it.”</p> + +<p>“What time, Rico?” asked Otero.</p> + +<p>Rico told him.</p> + +<p>“Fine, fine,” said Otero, “eh, Rico?”</p> + +<p>Half a block down the street they saw the huge electric sign of the +Casa Alvarado. The street was deserted except for the parked cars. They +drove along slowly now.</p> + +<p>Rico leaned out.</p> + +<p>“That’s a break,” he said, pointing to a parking place where they +couldn’t be hemmed in. “Listen, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_40" role="doc-pagebreak">40</span>Tony, this ain’t going to be no +cinch, so you better give us a lift.”</p> + +<p>Tony pretended to be preoccupied with parking.</p> + +<p>“Get me?”</p> + +<p>Tony was pale and his lips were twitching.</p> + +<p>“That ain’t my stand, Rico,” he said.</p> + +<p>Rico looked at him. Tony sat silent for a moment, then, pulling at the +vizer of his cap, said:</p> + +<p>“But you’re the boss, Rico.”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Rico, smiling. “Now, Otero, get this. I go first. You +follow me with the big rod. I stick up the cashier. Tony swings the +sacks. Got it?” Rico took three small neatly-folded canvas sacks out of +his pocket and handed them to Tony. “Otero, you watch the door. If you +see anybody coming in, let ’em come in, then back ’em up against the +wall. If things go right, I’ll tap the box. Got it?”</p> + +<p>Rico looked at his watch. It was three minutes past twelve.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go,” he said.</p> + +<p>Otero got out lazily, hiding the riot gun under his coat. Rico got out, +followed by Tony.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41" role="doc-pagebreak">41</span>“Got your rod, Tony?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>Tony nodded.</p> + +<p>“All right, keep it in your pocket. Maybe you won’t need it right away. +If anybody gets funny, why, pull it.”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Tony, “but for God’s sake, Rico, no gun work.”</p> + +<p>Otero said:</p> + +<p>“You leave Rico alone. He does what is right.”</p> + +<p>Whistles were blowing all over town. They walked up the carpet which +was laid across the pavement under the canvas marquee. Inside there was +a blaze of lights and they could hear the music. The lobby was deserted +except for two check girls, one waiter, a cigar clerk, and the cashier, +a pale woman with a green eyeshade, who was perched on a stool. Joe +Massara, in a big ulster and a derby hat, was standing at the cigar +counter, kidding the clerk. He saw them out of the corner of his eye +and nodded twice.</p> + +<p>They came in quickly, Rico in front with his big automatic at ready, +Otero slightly behind him and to the left, carrying the sawed-off +shotgun <span class="pagenum" id="Page_42" role="doc-pagebreak">42</span>hip-high, Tony in the rear, his hand in his overcoat pocket.</p> + +<p>Before Rico could say anything, Joe Massara faced them, put his back up +against the counter and raised his hands.</p> + +<p>“My God,” he cried, “it’s a hold-up.”</p> + +<p>One of the check girls screamed piercingly. The waiter’s knees buckled +and he almost fell. The others stood petrified.</p> + +<p>“You’re goddam right it’s a hold-up!” shouted Rico, trying to +intimidate them, “and it ain’t gonna be no picnic. Get that, all of you +birds. I got lead in this here rod and my finger’s itching. One crack +out of any of you and they’ll pat you with a spade. All right, Tony.”</p> + +<p>Tony, white as chalk, took the sacks out of his pocket and walked over +to the cashier’s desk. The cashier was standing behind the register, +hands raised. When Tony came up she said:</p> + +<p>“Take anything you want, only for God’s sake don’t touch me.”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Tony, “clean out the box but don’t get funny.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43" role="doc-pagebreak">43</span>Tony held the sacks while the cashier scooped the money into them. +Tony saw pack after pack of wrapped greenbacks drop into the sacks. He +began to feel a little better.</p> + +<p>Rico left the cashier to Tony, but looked at each of the others in +turn, his eyes, under his tilted hat, intimidating them as successfully +as the big Luger in his hand. Otero stood behind him and a little to +the left, impassive, the riot gun hip-high.</p> + +<p>The manager opened the door of his office and with a dazed look +hesitated for a moment, then, with a great sigh, put his back against +the wall and raised his hands. He was a Czech with a swarthy complexion +which gradually turned greenish.</p> + +<p>Rico glared at the manager.</p> + +<p>“Stay put, you!” he said.</p> + +<p>“All right, all right,” said the Czech.</p> + +<p>Joe Massara said:</p> + +<p>“Jesus, my arm’s paralyzed.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” shouted Rico, “well, don’t let it drop.”</p> + +<p>“All set,” cried Tony.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44" role="doc-pagebreak">44</span>Otero was busy at the door with a man in a top hat who had just come +in. The man couldn’t believe his eyes and kept muttering:</p> + +<p>“Good Lord! Good Lord!”</p> + +<p>Otero backed him against the wall.</p> + +<p>In the club proper, beyond the big arched doorways, the band was +playing loudly, horns were tooting, people were shouting.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “get out your gat, Tony. I’ll tap the box +inside.”</p> + +<p>“God,” said Tony, “it’ll take too long.”</p> + +<p>Rico looked at him. Tony, holding the sacks in one arm, pulled out his +gun. Rico walked over to the manager.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, “I want action. Go in and open that box and slip me +the jack. One funny move and I’ll blow your guts out.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my God!” cried the Czech.</p> + +<p>They disappeared. There was a dead silence in the lobby. One of the +check girls began to cry.</p> + +<p>“Nice little hold-up,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Nobody said anything.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Joe, nonchalant, “fine little hold-up.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_45" role="doc-pagebreak">45</span>He smiled at the waiter, who looked hastily away and turned +agonized eyes on Tony as if to say: “Look, I can’t help what that +bird’s saying.”</p> + +<p>Two more men came in the street door and were backed up against the +wall by Otero. The seconds seemed like hours to Tony, who was slowly +losing his nerve.</p> + +<p>The manager reappeared, followed by Rico, who had his gun pressed +against the manager’s back. Rico’s pockets bulged.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord,” hissed Tony, “let’s go.”</p> + +<p>Three men and two women came out into the lobby from the club proper. +They stopped, petrified.</p> + +<p>The strain was beginning to tell on Rico, whose face was ghastly.</p> + +<p>“Stick up your hands, you,” he cried, “and don’t move.”</p> + +<p>Two of the men and both of the women put up their hands, but the third +man, burly and red-faced, hesitated.</p> + +<p>“Good God,” said Joe, “it’s Courtney, the bull.”</p> + +<p>Joe’s mask of nonchalance slipped from him <span class="pagenum" id="Page_46" role="doc-pagebreak">46</span>instantly; he dropped +his hands and reached for his gun.</p> + +<p>“Beat it,” cried Rico to Tony and Otero.</p> + +<p>They made a break for the door. One of the women with Courtney fainted +and fell hard, hitting her head.</p> + +<p>“Don’t touch her,” cried Rico, “my finger’s itching.”</p> + +<p>Joe followed the others, backing out with his gun in his hand.</p> + +<p>Courtney’s face was purple. He glanced at his wife, lying pale and +unconscious on the floor, then, shouting “you dirty bums” reached for +his gun. Rico fired. Courtney took two steps toward Rico, staring. Then +he fell heavily, his arms spread.</p> + +<p>At the door Rico collided with a drunken man, who was just entering. +The man tried to hug him, but he knocked him down with a blow of his +fist.</p> + +<p>Rico jumped on the running-board and bellowed:</p> + +<p>“Open her up, Tony. This ain’t no picnic.”</p> + +<p>Tony was unnerved and tears were dripping down onto his hands. Joe and +Otero sat silent in <span class="pagenum" id="Page_47" role="doc-pagebreak">47</span>the back seat. Otero rolled a cigarette between +his palms. Nobody said anything.</p> + +<p>Tony took a corner, careening. The wind had died down a little and it +had begun to snow again, a thin, cold, powdery snow. The whistles were +still blowing, but fainter now, one leaving off, then another.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “I plugged him.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Joe, “I seen him fall. Like a ton of bricks.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Otero, “what can you do? The fool, pulling a gat!”</p> + +<p>Tony said nothing, but sat with his eyes fixed.</p> + +<p>“It’s our hips for this,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Otero shrugged and lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>“Losing your guts, Joe?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>“Me!” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Tony turned into the alley way back of The Palermo. Rico put the sacks +under his coat and jumped out. Otero and Joe followed him.</p> + +<p>“Tony,” said Rico, “ditch that can, then come back for your split. Hear +what I say. Ditch it good and proper. We’ll wait.”</p> + +<p>“Look,” said Joe, “I got to have my split now. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_48" role="doc-pagebreak">48</span>I’m on at +one-twenty. Boy, I can’t miss that turn.”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Tony drove off down the alley. Rico knocked at the door and Carillo let +them in.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p class="dcap">WHEN they came in Vettori was standing in the middle of the room +mopping his forehead with his big white silk handkerchief. Beads of +sweat stood out all over his swarthy, fat face.</p> + +<p>Rico threw the sacks on the table and began to empty his pockets.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>“There’s the dough,” said Rico, “looks like a good haul.”</p> + +<p>Joe sat down at the table under the green-shaded lamp without taking +off his hat or coat. Otero took the riot gun from under his coat and +locked it up in a cupboard. Vettori knew there was something the +matter. His eyes narrowed.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said again.</p> + +<p>“Everything was O.K.,” said Rico, “only I had to plug a guy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49" role="doc-pagebreak">49</span>Vettori fell down into a chair and stared out the window.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Joe, trying to smile, “and the guy was Courtney.”</p> + +<p>Vettori put his head on the back of his chair and stared at the +ceiling. Then he sat up suddenly and banged on the table with both +fists.</p> + +<p>“Goddam!” he cried, “what did I tell you, Rico! What did I tell you! +Love of God, didn’t I tell you no gunwork?”</p> + +<p>Rico was white with rage.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Sam, you think I’m gonna let a guy pull a gat on me. What the +hell! Any more of them cracks and this is my last job.”</p> + +<p>Vettori made an elaborate, tragic gesture.</p> + +<p>“Yeah, you bet this is your last job.”</p> + +<p>Joe took off his derby and put it beside him on the table. His face was +dead white.</p> + +<p>“You said it,” said Joe, “they’ll get us sure for this.”</p> + +<p>Vettori shook his big head slowly from side to side.</p> + +<p>“They’ll get us dead sure for this.”</p> + +<p>Rico began to comb his hair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50" role="doc-pagebreak">50</span>“Maybe you better go over and give yourself up,” he said; then +dropping his sarcastic tone, “listen, how the hell they gonna get us? +Why, you’re the finest bunch of yellow bastards I ever seen.”</p> + +<p>“Not me,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Joe tried to smile.</p> + +<p>“Wait till you see the papers.”</p> + +<p>Rico came over and leaned on the table.</p> + +<p>“Listen, don’t they always play that stuff up in the papers. Courtney’s +the only guy in the place that ever seen one of us before. Come on, +snap out of it. And split the dough.”</p> + +<p>But Vettori sat inert, mopping his face. Suddenly he asked:</p> + +<p>“Where’s Tony?”</p> + +<p>“He’s ditching the can,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Suppose they pick him up?”</p> + +<p>Rico began to open the sacks.</p> + +<p>“That’ll be just too bad,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“A fine bunch of yeggs!”</p> + +<p>Vettori got to his feet in a fury.</p> + +<p>“You, Rico! Shut your mouth. You think I <span class="pagenum" id="Page_51" role="doc-pagebreak">51</span>want to hang because you +get yellow and shoot somebody.”</p> + +<p>Rico, very calm, put his hand in his pocket and said:</p> + +<p>“Sam, you get funny with me and you won’t get no split at all. Only a +horseshoe wreath.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hell, Sam,” said Joe, “we’re all in it, ain’t we? Come on, split +the dough.”</p> + +<p>Vettori sat down. Otero stood a little behind him, watching.</p> + +<p>“Since you want it, Sam,” said Rico, his face pale and drawn, “you’re +gonna get it. Listen, you split even, that’s all. Hear me! You get an +even split.”</p> + +<p>Vettori said nothing. Joe sat rigid, ready to dive under the table. +For months Scabby had been predicting this break; now it had come. Joe +feared Vettori and Rico equally, but something told him that Rico would +win.</p> + +<p>Vettori let his hands fall on the table.</p> + +<p>“All right, Rico,” he said, “I split even. Sit down and we’ll divvy.”</p> + +<p>But Rico didn’t move.</p> + +<p>“You got a gun on you, Sam?” he asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52" role="doc-pagebreak">52</span>Vettori looked up at him.</p> + +<p>“Sure I got a gun on me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t try to use it.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Otero, “don’t try to use it.”</p> + +<p>Vettori’s face went slack. He sat tapping on the table with his fat +fingers.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, finally, “I split even on the square.”</p> + +<p>Rico’s victory was complete. Joe looked at him with admiration. Sam was +a tough bird, but Rico was tougher.</p> + +<p>Vettori got up, walked across the room and stood looking out the window.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p class="dcap">JOE handed Rico a sheet of paper full of figures. Rico read: 9331.75.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “split it five ways and we’ll make up Scabby’s +split between us.”</p> + +<p>Otero sat with his chair tipped back against the wall, smoking a +cigarette with his eyes closed. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_53" role="doc-pagebreak">53</span>Vettori was playing solitaire and +swearing softly to himself.</p> + +<p>Joe looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>“Quarter till. I got to beat it. Say, Sam, call Carillo and let him get +me a cab, will you?”</p> + +<p>Sam heaved himself to his feet and called Carillo. In a moment the +bouncer put his flattened face in the door.</p> + +<p>“Three dicks downstairs, boss?”</p> + +<p>“Who are they?” asked Vettori.</p> + +<p>“Flaherty and two guys I don’t know, boss. They want to see you.”</p> + +<p>Vettori stood looking at the floor. Carillo jumped in and shut the door.</p> + +<p>“Christ,” he said, “they’re coming up.”</p> + +<p>Rico leapt to his feet, ran across the room and opened a panel in the +wall.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Joe,” he said, “you can slip out the back way. Stay where +you are, Otero, and go right on smoking. Send Joe’s cab around in the +alley, Bat.”</p> + +<p>Vettori looked at Rico.</p> + +<p>“You suppose they know something, Rico?”</p> + +<p>“Not unless they picked Tony up. You don’t <span class="pagenum" id="Page_54" role="doc-pagebreak">54</span>know nothing, Sam, see? +I’ll be right here listening, and if there’s any trouble, why, it’ll be +tough on the dicks.”</p> + +<p>Vettori scooped up the money, wrapped his coat around it, and handed +it to Rico. Joe went through the panel, followed by Rico. There was a +knock at the door.</p> + +<p>Vettori nodded and Carillo opened the door. Two plain-clothes men +stepped in and stood looking around the room. One was tall and burly in +a huge ulster; the other was short and very young. They both had their +right hands in their overcoat pockets.</p> + +<p>“All right, Carillo,” said Vettori, “go ahead. That’s all.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute,” said the burly one, “tell Flaherty we’ll be down in a +couple of minutes, for him to wait.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, sure,” said Carillo.</p> + +<p>He went out closing the door softly.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Vettori, “you want to see me?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the burly one, who did all the talking, “we want to see +you, Vettori.”</p> + +<p>“Well, here I am!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55" role="doc-pagebreak">55</span>Otero opened his eyes long enough to look at them, then closed them +again and went on smoking.</p> + +<p>“Vettori,” said the detective, “we want some information.”</p> + +<p>“Well?”</p> + +<p>Vettori sat down at the table and began to shuffle the cards.</p> + +<p>“There’s a big Cadillac draped around a pole a couple of blocks down +the street and we just wondered if you knew anything about it.”</p> + +<p>Vettori began to lay out a game of solitaire.</p> + +<p>“How should I know anything about it? Ain’t it got no license plates on +it?”</p> + +<p>“Sure, but they’re phoney.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah. It was stolen about eight o’clock tonight on the North Side and +we got a pretty good description of the guy that stole it.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Vettori, “I got a good business. What the hell’d I be +doing stealing automobiles.”</p> + +<p>He laughed and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you got me wrong,” said the detective with elaborate innocence. +“You see, it’s piled up right <span class="pagenum" id="Page_56" role="doc-pagebreak">56</span>straight down the street from here +and I thought maybe it was some of the guys from your joint, see? I +mean some of the young guys that come here to dance.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Vettori, “how would I know?”</p> + +<p>The detective took out a cigar and began to chew on it.</p> + +<p>“Wasn’t there nobody in it?” asked Otero.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the detective, “one guy. But he beat it.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know nothing about it,” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>“Well, no harm in asking,” said the detective. “Come on, Mike, let’s +get going. I guess Vettori don’t know nothing about it.”</p> + +<p>The two of them walked slowly to the door. The big one turned.</p> + +<p>“Say, Vettori,” he said, “did you hear the news?”</p> + +<p>Vettori looked up.</p> + +<p>“What news?”</p> + +<p>“Why, some bastard bumped Cap Courtney off over at the Casa Alvarado.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Vettori, “some guys are sure careless with the lead. +That’s a tough break.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57" role="doc-pagebreak">57</span>The young detective opened the door and they started out.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t it?” said the big one. “Well, so long.”</p> + +<p>As soon as the door closed, Vettori went over and shot the bolt, then +peeped out through the shutter. Rico came out of his hiding place.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Vettori, glancing at Rico, “things ain’t going so good.”</p> + +<p>Rico shrugged.</p> + +<p>“They don’t know nothing. Just feeling around. Listen, Sam, where’s +your guts? We got to stick together on this.”</p> + +<p>“I know,” said Vettori, falling back into his chair, “but I never seen +things break so tough.” Rico held out a roll of bills.</p> + +<p>“Here’s your split, Sam.”</p> + +<p>Vettori took the bills and stuffed them into his pocket. Rico handed +Otero his. Otero got up and put on his overcoat.</p> + +<p>“I think I go see my woman,” he said.</p> + +<p>When he had gone Rico went over and sat down beside Vettori.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Sam,” he said, “I been taking orders too long. We’re done. +Get the idea? But we got to <span class="pagenum" id="Page_58" role="doc-pagebreak">58</span>see this through. We get a break and +we’ll come clean. Only we got to shoot straight. See what I mean? I got +a rope around my neck right now and they can only hang you once. If +anybody gets yellow and squeals, my gun’s gonna speak its piece.”</p> + +<p>“That’s O.K. with me,” said Sam.</p> + +<p>They sat silent. Down stairs the jazzband was playing and the saxophone +was sending vibrations along the floor. Vettori laid out another game +of solitaire.</p> + +<p>“Funny for Tony to crash,” he said.</p> + +<p>“He lost his nerve,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“You suppose he’ll show?”</p> + +<p>“Not till tomorrow if he’s got any sense. I’ll leave his split with +you.”</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p class="dcap">RICO went over to see Ma Magdalena, the fence. Her fruit store was +still open and her son Arrigo was sitting half-asleep beside a pile of +oranges.</p> + +<p>“Hello,” he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_59" role="doc-pagebreak">59</span>“Where’s Ma?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>Arrigo pulled a cord which rang a bell in the rooms beyond the store. +Ma, leaning on her stick, came out into the store. Seeing Rico, she +said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, it’s you! Well, well! Come back. Come back.”</p> + +<p>“Can I come too, Ma?” said Arrigo.</p> + +<p>“You stay and mind the store, you lazy loafer,” said Ma, shaking her +stick at him.</p> + +<p>Arrigo sat down once more by the pile of oranges.</p> + +<p>Rico followed Ma Magdalena back into her little office. She pulled up a +chair for him and he sat down, then she got out a bottle.</p> + +<p>“You talk, I drink,” she said, sitting down beside him and pouring +herself a drink.</p> + +<p>Rico took out his split, peeled off a few bills and handed her the rest.</p> + +<p>“Plant it,” he said.</p> + +<p>She took the roll, counted it, and put it down inside her dress.</p> + +<p>“Had a big New Year’s Eve, did you?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “plenty big. There’ll be lots of fun tomorrow.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60" role="doc-pagebreak">60</span>“Well, well,” said Ma, “that’s the way it goes.”</p> + +<p>She poured herself another glass of wine, then she reached over and +touched Rico with her stick.</p> + +<p>“Look, Rico, you ain’t got a nice little girl who wants a big diamond +ring, have you?”</p> + +<p>“Me, buy a diamond ring for a skirt?”</p> + +<p>Ma Magdalena made a clucking noise and shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You are cold, Rico. Don’t like wine. Don’t like women. You are no +good, Rico.”</p> + +<p>Rico smiled.</p> + +<p>“Me, I like women once in a while, but I ain’t putting out no diamond +rings.”</p> + +<p>Leaving Ma Magdalena’s Rico went in the direction of Sicily Pete’s. The +wind was blowing hard and Rico, turning up his overcoat collar, leaned +against it. It was after three o’clock and the streets were empty. +Southward the lights of the Loop made a reddish glow in the sky.</p> + +<p>At Sicily Pete’s the mechanical piano was playing. Three men, all +Italians, and two girls, both Americans, were sitting at a front table. +They were drunk. They played with their food, spilled their <span class="pagenum" id="Page_61" role="doc-pagebreak">61</span>coffee, +and banged on the plates with their knives. Pete stood behind the +counter, scowling.</p> + +<p>When Rico came in he said:</p> + +<p>“Hello, my friend, where have you been keeping yourself?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t been around lately. Got some noisy birds, ain’t you?”</p> + +<p>Pete shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Yes, the fools. They drink gin. That is no drink for an Italian.”</p> + +<p>Rico took out his cigarettes and offered Pete one. They stood smoking. +One of the girls pulled up her dress and fixed her garter. Rico smiled.</p> + +<p>“Get an eyeful of that, Pete.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes,” said Pete, “that’s all I get, an eyeful. Every night I +stand here while other people have a good time.”</p> + +<p>The girl looked up at Rico and he winked at her. She said to one of the +men:</p> + +<p>“Look at that smarty over there. He thinks he’s cute.”</p> + +<p>The man looked foggily at Rico. Pete put his hand on Rico’s arm.</p> + +<p>“My friend, don’t start no trouble, please. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_62" role="doc-pagebreak">62</span>That’s all we have +around here, trouble. With one thing and another, I think I go back to +Italy.”</p> + +<p>Rico turned his back on the girl.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” he said.</p> + +<p>While Pete was getting Rico a cup of coffee, a newsboy came in:</p> + +<p>“EXTRA! EXTRA! All about the big hold-up.”</p> + +<p>Rico bought a paper and glanced at the three inch headlines.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="center">THUGS KILL CAPTAIN COURTNEY IN CASA ALVARADO HOLD-UP</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Rico showed Pete the paper.</p> + +<p>“Another killing,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Pete, “kill, kill, that’s all they do. I wish to God I was +back in Sicily. The Mafia, what is that? That is a kindergarten.”</p> + +<p>One of the Italians bought a paper and started to read the account of +the hold-up aloud. All the people round the table stopped eating to +listen. Rico sipped his coffee and watched them.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_63" role="doc-pagebreak">63</div> +<h3>V</h3> + +<p class="dcap">TONY hadn’t slept all night. He lay in the cold dark room, sweating. +The covers felt heavy as lead and from time to time he tossed them +off, only to pull them over him again as the lake wind, streaming in +the window, made him shiver. At intervals he would fall into a doze. +Then he would see a windy street, feel a car skidding under him, feel a +sickening jolt. He would wake with a start and sit up in bed.</p> + +<p>“They’ll get us for this,” he kept repeating, “they’ll get us sure.”</p> + +<p>Unable to control his imagination, he saw the high forbidding walls +of the State Prison, the tiny death cells with their heavily-grated +windows; then in the prison yard, the gallows. He remembered what Rico +had said about Red Gus, on the night of his execution: “Well, they’re +gonna put a necktie on Gus he won’t take off!” Yeah, they sure put a +necktie on Gus.</p> + +<p>Tony smoked cigarette after cigarette. In his despair he cast about for +someone to put the blame <span class="pagenum" id="Page_64" role="doc-pagebreak">64</span>on. It was all Midge’s fault. Wasn’t she +always after him to make more jack so she could put on the dog? Hadn’t +he tried to go straight and drive a taxi and make an honest living? +Yeah, and hadn’t Sam Vettori and Rico offered him money to quit his +job and give them a lift on their stick-ups? Well, you couldn’t quit a +gang; once you were in, you were in!</p> + +<p>Tony sat up in bed and looked out across the roofs outside his window. +The sun was coming up and a cold, windy winter morning was dawning. Of +a sudden he began to feel sick at his stomach. He lay down, but that +didn’t help him, then he tossed from side to side.</p> + +<p>He heard his mother moving about in the next room. She was getting +dressed to go to work. An alarm-clock in a room across the court rang, +then there was some loud swearing, and a window was slammed.</p> + +<p>Tony had to vomit. He jumped out of bed and ran for the bathroom. When +he came out his mother was lighting the stove. She acted as if she +didn’t see him. He went back to his room but stopped in the doorway.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65" role="doc-pagebreak">65</span>“Hello, mom,” he said.</p> + +<p>His mother paid no attention.</p> + +<p>“Say,” said Tony, “what’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>His mother turned and with her hands on her hips stared at him.</p> + +<p>“Go back to bed, you loafer,” she said, “I am sick of you. You are no +good on earth. Just like your father.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, mom,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>“Don’t try to salve me,” said Tony’s mother. “You go back to bed and +get sober. You think I don’t know nothing, don’t you? Just like your +father.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not drunk,” said Tony, “I’m sick.”</p> + +<p>His mother turned her back and went on with her cooking. Tony went into +his room, slammed the door, and got back into bed. A deadly depression +settled on him. The world looked black.</p> + +<p>He heard his mother go out, then he got up, dressed and made himself +some toast and coffee. Anyway, he wanted his split.</p> + +<p>On the way to Vettori’s he met Father McConagha. The priest was a big +man with a big, pale face. He walked with a rolling gait and there +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66" role="doc-pagebreak">66</span>was something arrogant about him. Tony took off his hat.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Father.”</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Antonio,” said Father McConagha. “Where have you been, +my boy? I haven’t seen you for months.”</p> + +<p>“I been working,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>“What sort of work?” asked Father McConagha, putting his hand on Tony’s +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“I been driving a taxi.”</p> + +<p>The priest nodded his head slowly.</p> + +<p>“That is good work, Antonio.”</p> + +<p>Tony couldn’t look at Father McConagha and kept twisting his hat in his +hands and staring at it. Father McConagha talked to him for a minute or +two about the rewards of honesty and the happiness to be derived from +doing your work faithfully, then he said:</p> + +<p>“Antonio, one day your father asked me to look out for you. Your father +was a good man, but weak. Remember this, Antonio, if you are ever in +any trouble I am the one to come to.”</p> + +<p>Tony flushed and said:</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Father.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67" role="doc-pagebreak">67</span>When Father McConagha had gone, Tony began to speculate. Did he +know anything? Why, on this very morning, had he said something about +being in trouble? Tony respected and admired Father McConagha. He felt +that he could always turn to him.</p> + +<p>Talking with the priest had made him feel stronger, but now that the +priest had gone all the hopelessness of the night before rushed back on +him. He took out a cigarette and lit it with shaking hands.</p> + +<p>“They’ll get us sure for this,” he said.</p> + +<p>Then once more he began to think about Red Gus and what Rico had said +about him.</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p class="dcap">SEAL SKIN couldn’t get Otero sober. She made him eat tomatoes and she +gave him a cold bath, but nothing seemed to do him any good. He walked +about the flat in his underclothes singing songs in bastard Spanish +and bragging about what a great, brave man he was. Only one man in the +world braver: Rico.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68" role="doc-pagebreak">68</span>Seal Skin was dead for sleep, but she didn’t shut her eyes for +fear Otero would do some crazy thing like shooting out the window at +the street light (he had done this one night) or going out in his +underclothes.</p> + +<p>Otero sat at the table with his automatic beside him, singing at the +top of his voice.</p> + +<p>“Look,” he cried, “I am Ramón Otero, a great, brave man. I ain’t afraid +of nobody or nothing. I can drink any man in the world under the table +and I can outshoot any man that walks on two legs. Only Rico; he is my +friend. He is a great man like Pancho Villa and I love him with a great +love. I would not shoot Rico if he shot me first. Rico is my friend and +I love him with a great love.”</p> + +<p>Then he got up and, snapping his fingers, began to dance, stamping with +his heels, wiggling his hips, till Seal Skin nearly fell out of her +chair laughing.</p> + +<p>Toward morning he went to sleep with his head on the table. Seal Skin +picked him up and carried him to bed (he weighed about a hundred and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69" role="doc-pagebreak">69</span>fifteen pounds), then, too tired to take off her clothes, she +climbed in beside him.</p> + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p class="dcap">RICO bought all the papers he could find and went up to his room to +read them. He sat at his table, his hat tilted over his eyes, with a +pair of scissors in his hand, cutting from the papers all the articles +dealing with the hold-up and the killing of Police Captain Courtney. He +arranged the clippings in a neat pile, then read them over and over.</p> + +<p>One said:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>... the thug who shot Police Captain Courtney was a small, pale +foreigner, probably an Italian. He was dressed in a natty overcoat and +a light felt hat.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Another:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>... Courtney’s murderer was described by one <span class="pagenum" id="Page_70" role="doc-pagebreak">70</span>eyewitness as a small, +unhealthy-looking foreigner.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Rico tore up this clipping.</p> + +<p>“Where do they get that unhealthy stuff!” he said. “I never been sick a +day in my life.”</p> +</section> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="part3-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_71" role="doc-pagebreak">71</div> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="part3-hd">PART III</h2> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_73" role="doc-pagebreak">73</div> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dcap">SAM VETTORI’S heavy, dark face looked puffy and his eyes were swollen. +He hadn’t been sleeping well lately and he had been drinking whiskey. +As wine was his usual drink, the whiskey indicated a state of mind the +reverse of calm. He sat chewing a cold stogie and from time to time +pouring himself a shot from the bottle at his elbow. Rico was playing +solitaire, his hat tilted over his eyes. The Big Boy sat opposite +Vettori, his derby on the side of his head, and his huge fists, fists +which at one time had swung a pick in a section gang, lying before him +on the table.</p> + +<p>The Big Boy shook his head from side to side slowly.</p> + +<p>“Not a chance, Sam,” he said, “I can’t do nothing for you. Why, you +must be out of your mind. Listen, they’re after me hot and heavy. I +got all I can do to take care of number one, see? Things was running +too good for you, Sam. That’s <span class="pagenum" id="Page_74" role="doc-pagebreak">74</span>your trouble. You thought I was +God himself. But listen, I ain’t no miracle man. A stick-up more or +less, what’s that? But when it comes to plugging a bull like Courtney, +that’s out! No, Sam. You’re on your own now. It ain’t gonna be none too +healthy for none of us for a while. Just don’t lose your nerve, that’s +the main thing. Just hang on and watch the guys that are in the know.”</p> + +<p>“You leave that to me,” said Rico without looking up.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said the Big Boy, “I think you’re the goods, Rico. But don’t +get nervous with that gat of yours, or they’ll put a necktie on you. +Get this. No more stick-ups. No more jobs. Just lay low, all of you. If +you run out of jack, I’ll stake you. Now I got to beat it. Don’t call +me up no more, Sam. Because I can’t do nothing for you and it might +give the bulls an idea.”</p> + +<p>The Big Boy got to his feet and stood leaning his huge hairy paws on +the table.</p> + +<p>“Why, you guys are lucky and don’t know it. Wood’s manager got so +goddam rattled he identified one of the plain-clothes men as the guy +that did the inside stand. Jesus, but it was rich! Spike <span class="pagenum" id="Page_75" role="doc-pagebreak">75</span>Rieger was +boiling. Pretty soon he pinned the manager down and the damn dummy said +that the guys that did the job were Poles. So they went out and grabbed +Steve Gollancz. Steve and his bunch had just tapped a bank and Steve +thought they had the goods on him. It was funny as hell!”</p> + +<p>The Big Boy put his head back and brayed. Sam Vettori drummed on the +table irritably.</p> + +<p>“All right, laugh,” said Sam.</p> + +<p>“Sure, I’ll laugh,” said the Big Boy; “if you’d seen Steve’s face when +he found out what it was all about you’d split your pants laughing.”</p> + +<p>“Steve’s the goods,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“You said a mouthful,” said the Big Boy, “he’s got them eating out of +his hand. Well, I’m gonna beat it. You guys lay low and it may blow +over. If things get hot, I’ll tip off Scabby and then you all better +hit the rods. So long.”</p> + +<p>The Big Boy went out slamming the door. They heard him go downstairs; +he walked as heavily as a squad of police and banged each step with his +heels.</p> + +<p>Rico went on with his game of solitaire.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76" role="doc-pagebreak">76</span>“Well,” said Vettori, “something just tells me we’re gonna get +ours.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hell!” said Rico, pushing the cards away from him, “I’d like to +get the guy that invented that game.”</p> + +<p>Vettori swore softly to himself at Rico’s indifference, then, pouring +himself another drink, he said:</p> + +<p>“You think Joe’s safe, Rico.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “as long as they don’t nab him and put it to him. He +can’t stand the gaff.”</p> + +<p>“How about The Greek?”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“Safe as hell. Only thing with Otero, he gets lit and wants to raise +hell. I had to knock him down a couple of times last night. He gets a +little money and he goes nuts. That goddam greaser never saw over five +dollars all at once till I picked him up in Toledo. But he’s safe.”</p> + +<p>“How about Tony?”</p> + +<p>Rico didn’t say anything for a minute but picked up his cards and began +to shuffle them.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about Tony.”</p> + +<p>Sam Vettori got up and walked back and forth, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_77" role="doc-pagebreak">77</span>mopping his forehead +at intervals with his big white silk handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“Love of God, Rico, we can’t take no chances with him.”</p> + +<p>Rico dealt out a couple of poker hands and began to play an imaginary +game.</p> + +<p>“You leave that to me, Sam,” he said.</p> + +<p>Vettori put his hand on Rico’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“That’s the talk, Rico. We get a break we may come clean.”</p> + +<p>Vettori dropped back into his chair and poured himself another drink, +but Rico reached across the table and pushed the glass off on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Slow down on that stuff, Sam. You got to keep your head clear.”</p> + +<p>Vettori looked at Rico in a fury, then he lowered his eyes.</p> + +<p>“You got the right dope, Rico. That stuff don’t do nobody no good.”</p> + +<p>Vettori took the whiskey bottle and locked it up in a cupboard.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_78" role="doc-pagebreak">78</div> +<h3>II</h3> + +<p class="dcap">ABOUT nine o’clock Carillo put his head in the door. Downstairs the +jazzband had just started to play.</p> + +<p>“Well?” demanded Vettori, getting to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Blackie wants to see you,” said Carillo.</p> + +<p>“All right.”</p> + +<p>Carillo went out.</p> + +<p>“What you suppose he wants?” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>Rico, who was sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall +reading a magazine, shook his head without looking up or answering. +He was deep in the reading of a story about a rich society girl who +fell in love with a bootlegger. Rico read everything he could find +that had anything to do with society. He was fascinated by a stratum +of existence which seemed so remote and unreal to him. The men of +this level were “saps” and “softies” to him, but he envied them their +women. He had seen them getting out of limousines at the doors of Gold +Coast hotels. He had seen them, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_79" role="doc-pagebreak">79</span>magnificently dressed, insolent, +inaccessible, walking up the carpets under the canvas marquees. The +doormen would bow. The women would disappear. Rico hated them. They +were so arrogant and self-sufficient, and they did not know that there +was such a person in the world as Rico.</p> + +<p>Blackie Avezzano, who managed Sam’s garage, came in and shut the door +behind him. He was small and bowlegged, and he was so dark that he had +been taken for a mulatto many times.</p> + +<p>Vettori impatiently exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“Well, what’s on your mind, Blackie?”</p> + +<p>Rico went on reading his magazine. Blackie sat down at the table and +seemed to be making an effort to collect his thoughts.</p> + +<p>“All right, spit it out,” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>Blackie couldn’t speak very good English, but as Rico didn’t know a +word of Italian and Vettori preferred to speak English, he did the best +he could.</p> + +<p>“Tony he took sick. Listen, I tell you, Tony he no know what. He took +sick. I see him, listen, I tell you, what-you-say, he no got his guts. +The <span class="pagenum" id="Page_80" role="doc-pagebreak">80</span>Madre she send me call the doctore. Listen, he say, Tony, +what-you-say, you been a drink. Now listen, you cut out a drink. That’s +all. Tony he no drink. What a hell! One bottle of beer he can no drink. +He no got his guts, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>Vettori looked at Rico, who went on reading.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I heard him,” said Rico, “I ain’t deaf.”</p> + +<p>Blackie got up and stood twisting his cap in his hand. Vettori took out +his billfold and handed Blackie a ten.</p> + +<p>“Blackie,” he said, “keep your eyes open, understand?”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Blackie, “I watch, see, I know. Tony no good. All +right, I watch.”</p> + +<p>When he had gone Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s that.”</p> + +<p>“We can’t take no chances,” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>“I’ll give him till tomorrow,” said Rico; “he can’t go far wrong with +Blackie watching him. After that if he don’t settle down, there won’t +be no more Tony.”</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_81" role="doc-pagebreak">81</div> +<h3>III</h3> + +<p class="dcap">TONY had always been of a rather easy-going nature and took things as +they came. His emotions, it is true, were very unstable; with him anger +was almost immediately followed by a grin, and depression lasted only +long enough for him to recognize that he had felt such an emotion. No, +he had never before experienced the loneliness which is the result +of continued despair. Now he felt it and it was too much for him. He +looked back on the past as a sort of fabulous period when he had had +peace of mind.</p> + +<p>He could enjoy nothing. The fear of arrest and hanging dogged him even +at the movies, formerly his chief pleasure, and in the company of +Midge, his woman, he was so preoccupied that she thought he had a new +woman and treated him accordingly. Even the presence of his mother, who +had begun to realize that something was wrong, did not tranquilize him. +He drank, played pool, rode about in an automobile, but fear pursued +him and he could find no rest.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82" role="doc-pagebreak">82</span>Then he began to have attacks of acute indigestion, and it got so +bad that the very sight of food was repugnant to him. He lost weight +rapidly.</p> + +<p>There was nothing he could do. He could not find one avenue of escape. +But little by little the thought of Father McConagha took possession of +him. Tony was too unintelligent to know that what he needed most of all +was someone he could unburden himself to. But he blundered toward that +solution.</p> + +<p>Blackie’s solicitude helped some. Blackie came to see him every night; +and once, when Tony’s indigestion had been worse than usual, he had +even gone for the doctor.</p> + +<p>Tony’s mother put her hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Antonio,” she said, “I think I’ll go over across the street and see +Mrs. Mangia. She is having a new baby. Only think! That will be twelve.”</p> + +<p>Tony tried to smile.</p> + +<p>“Twelve!” said Tony’s mother, shaking her head slowly from side to +side, “and one is too much.”</p> + +<p>“A bad egg like me is.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83" role="doc-pagebreak">83</span>“You ain’t a bad egg, Antonio,” said his mother, “you are only +lazy.”</p> + +<p>Tony said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Antonio, I left some spaghetti on the stove. If you feel +better eat some. You don’t want to get all run down.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>Tony’s mother went out. As soon as the door was shut, Tony wished +that she hadn’t gone. He was afraid. At the sound of footsteps in the +corridor, he felt his hair rise and beads of sweat stood out on his +forehead. He got to his feet and began to walk up and down. A fury +seized him; he cursed Rico and Vettori aloud. Then suddenly the anger +left him and the fear returned.</p> + +<p>Blackie put his head in the door.</p> + +<p>“How you feel, Tony?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Blackie,” said Tony, “come on in and have a smoke.”</p> + +<p>Blackie took a cigarette from the preferred pack and sat down. While he +smoked he kept glancing at Tony.</p> + +<p>“Whatsa mat, Tony?” said Blackie. “You ain’t look so good.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84" role="doc-pagebreak">84</span>Tony stared at Blackie for a moment, then he began to shake all +over.</p> + +<p>“Jesus, Blackie,” he cried, “I can’t stand it. They’ll get us sure. +Have you seen tonight’s paper?”</p> + +<p>Blackie shrugged.</p> + +<p>“I can no read.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all up with us,” said Tony. “My God, I don’t see how Rico stands +it.”</p> + +<p>“Rico no scared.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he ought to be. He’s the one that done it.”</p> + +<p>Blackie shrugged.</p> + +<p>“No can help. What-you-say, Cortenni pull a gat. No can help.”</p> + +<p>Tony got very pale of a sudden. He heard an automobile stop in the +street below. He ran to the window and looked down, then he turned and +came back.</p> + +<p>“I thought it was the cops,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Look,” said Blackie, “you no better be sick. Listen, you no got your +guts, Tony. Rico say, be a man. That is good. Be a man, Rico say. You +no better be sick.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85" role="doc-pagebreak">85</span>“The hell with Rico,” said Tony.</p> + +<p>Blackie shrugged.</p> + +<p>Tony stood in the middle of the room for a minute or two looking at the +floor, then, suddenly making up his mind, he went over to the hatrack +and got his hat.</p> + +<p>“Where you go?” asked Blackie.</p> + +<p>Tony hesitated.</p> + +<p>“I go too,” said Blackie.</p> + +<p>“No, you go home,” said Tony, then looking steadily at Blackie he said: +“Me, I’m going down to St. Dominick’s and see Father McConagha.”</p> + +<p>“What,” cried Blackie, leaping up in alarm. “Tony, my God, you no tell +him nothing.”</p> + +<p>“I got to,” cried Tony vehemently.</p> + +<p>Blackie took hold of Tony’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Tony, my boy, don’t go. Listen, Tony, you no sick. Be a man. Hear what +I tell you. You no live, see, you no live. Be a man.”</p> + +<p>Tony pushed him away.</p> + +<p>“You go home, Blackie.”</p> + +<p>Tony went out. Blackie heard him walking slowly down the corridor. When +he could no longer hear his footsteps, he leapt to his feet, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_86" role="doc-pagebreak">86</span>opened +a back window, went down the fire-escape, and took a short cut through +the alleys. He knocked at the back door of the Palermo and Carillo let +him in.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p class="dcap">VETTORI stared at Rico, who said nothing.</p> + +<p>“Crazy! Crazy!” said Blackie. “I tell him, be a man, be a man. But he +say, I got to, I got to.”</p> + +<p>Rico hastily put on his overcoat.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess that’s it,” said Sam Vettori.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “that’s it. Now get yourself a can, Sam, and let’s +go. We ain’t got any time to waste.”</p> + +<p>Vettori rubbed both hands over his face.</p> + +<p>“Not me,” he said.</p> + +<p>Rico looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Take Blackie,” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>Blackie implored them with his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Blackie’s no good,” said Rico.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87" role="doc-pagebreak">87</span>“No,” said Blackie, “I no good.”</p> + +<p>Carillo put his head in the door.</p> + +<p>“Reilley’s downstairs, boss.”</p> + +<p>“Take Carillo,” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>Carillo stared at them suspiciously. Rico leapt across the room and +grabbed him by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Bat, can you drive a can?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>“Will you let her out when I office you?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>“All right, let’s go.”</p> + +<p>“Take that black roadster, Carillo,” said Vettori, “but for God’s sake +don’t smash it up.”</p> + +<p>Carillo ran out leaving the door open. Rico walked over and closed the +door, then he said:</p> + +<p>“Sam, you ain’t got any more guts than Tony. Now listen, get down there +and talk turkey to Reilley. Get that! By God, I guess I got to boss +this job myself.”</p> + +<p>Vettori looked at Rico with hatred. But he said:</p> + +<p>“All right, Rico, you’re the boss now.”</p> + +<p>Rico went out. Blackie said:</p> + +<p>“Goodbye Tony!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_88" role="doc-pagebreak">88</span>Carillo was waiting with the black roadster in the alleyway. Rico +jumped in and the roadster leapt away. Carillo took a turn on two +wheels.</p> + +<p>“It’s a cinch he went the shortest cut,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Carillo, “I know what I’m doing.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “do it.”</p> + +<p>The wind had risen and it began to snow, big, heavy flakes which sailed +past the street lights. In a few minutes the ground was covered.</p> + +<p>Carillo took the shortest cut and Rico, holding his big automatic on +the seat beside him, sat straining his eyes. But there was no sign of +Tony.</p> + +<p>“If we miss him I’ll kick hell out of Blackie,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Keep your shirt on, boss,” said Carillo.</p> + +<p>The tall spires of St. Dominick’s rose before them at the end of the +block. The street was deserted. Carillo drove slowly now, hugging the +curb. In a moment he pointed:</p> + +<p>“There’s a guy.”</p> + +<p>Rico leaned forward.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89" role="doc-pagebreak">89</span>“Take it easy, Bat,” he said, “I think it’s Tony.”</p> + +<p>Carillo throttled down to five miles an hour. The man, a dim black +figure in the falling snow, stopped in front of the cathedral and +looked up. When the automobile came abreast of him he turned.</p> + +<p>“Tony,” called Rico.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” came Tony’s voice. “Who is it?”</p> + +<p>Rico fired. A long spurt of flame shot out in the darkness. Rico +emptied his gun. Tony fell without a sound.</p> + +<p>“All right now, Bat,” said Rico, “let her out.”</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p class="dcap">JOE and Olga were sitting in a quiet corner of a Gold Coast hotel +dining-room. They were waiting for their dessert. Joe, comfortably +full and inclined to be amiable, sat looking at Olga. She was the +goods. Of course he stepped out with other broads occasionally when +Olga was busy, but that didn’t count. Olga was the goods and <span class="pagenum" id="Page_90" role="doc-pagebreak">90</span>she +was his woman. Other men didn’t rate with her, that’s all. He studied +her. There she sat with her round dark face, her high cheekbones, and +her dark mascara-ed eyes. Her long thin fingers covered with rings +fascinated him. Her slimness, her elegance made him feel very uncouth +and protective and masculine.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Olga, “take a good look.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, baby,” said Joe, “you got it. I ain’t kidding. You got +everything. There ain’t a woman in Chicago that’s got half your stuff. +You make ’em all look silly.”</p> + +<p>Olga reached across the table and patted his hand.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it, but say it again. I like it.”</p> + +<p>“No fooling.”</p> + +<p>“What a line,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>The waiter brought their dessert.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you,” said Olga, looking at her wrist watch, “let’s go to a +movie. I got time.”</p> + +<p>Joe didn’t like movies very well; all that sappy love stuff! But now he +wanted to please Olga.</p> + +<p>“All right. Where’ll it be?”</p> + +<p>Olga turned to the waiter.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91" role="doc-pagebreak">91</span>“Bring us a paper, please.”</p> + +<p>The waiter brought a paper and handed it to Joe. He unfolded it and +started to turn to the theatrical page, but instead he read with +absorption an article on the front page. Olga saw him swallow several +times. When he glanced up at her there was a bewildered look in his +eyes and his face had begun to get pale.</p> + +<p>“What’s wrong?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“They got Tony,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Who?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Rico, I guess. He must have turned yellow.”</p> + +<p>Joe ran his hand across his forehead, then he took out his gold +cigarette case, but without ostentation this time, and lit a cigarette. +Olga took the paper from him. She read:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="center">ANOTHER GANG KILLING</p> + +<p>Antonio Passalacqua, known as Tony Passa, reputed to be a member of the +Vettori gang, was found dead near the steps of St. Dominick’s Cathedral +... as far as the police can ascertain no one saw him killed ... when +questioned Sam Vettori denied all knowledge of the shooting <span class="pagenum" id="Page_92" role="doc-pagebreak">92</span>and +intimated that it was the work of a rival gang ... police say that this +is likely.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Jesus!” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Olga turned quickly to the theatrical page.</p> + +<p>“Joe, honey,” she said, “there’s a good comedy at the Oriental. What do +you say?”</p> + +<p>Joe crumpled up his cigarette and put it in the ash-tray.</p> + +<p>“Boy, Rico didn’t waste no time with him.”</p> + +<p>“Joe, don’t you want to see that comedy?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Joe, “let’s go see it.”</p> + +<p>Joe sat silent in the taxi all the way to the theatre. As they were +getting out, he said:</p> + +<p>“Boy, that Rico is sure careless with a rod.”</p> + +<p>“Forget it, honey,” said Olga.</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p class="dcap">WHEN Rico came in Seal Skin was sitting in a chair by the window and +Otero was lying on the bed without his shirt, singing loudly. Rico +walked over and put his hand on Seal Skin’s shoulder.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93" role="doc-pagebreak">93</span>“Listen,” he said, “I thought you told me you was gonna look after +The Greek?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t do nothing with him,” said Seal Skin.</p> + +<p>Rico went over to the bed and looked at Otero.</p> + +<p>“Señor Rico,” cried Otero, “listen, I will sing for you.”</p> + +<p>Rico turned.</p> + +<p>“Seal,” he said, “that bird’s gonna spill something if you don’t keep +him sober.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Seal Skin, “I ain’t no nurse. A guy ought to look out +for himself. What the hell can I do, anyway? I can’t knock him cold.”</p> + +<p>“You never did have much sense,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“All right, wise boy. Let’s see what you can do.”</p> + +<p>Rico took off his overcoat.</p> + +<p>“Got any ice?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Seal Skin without moving.</p> + +<p>“Well, goddam it, get on your feet and get it.”</p> + +<p>Seal Skin was afraid of Rico but she didn’t want him to suspect it. She +got to her feet leisurely, picked up one of Otero’s big cigars, lit it, +and stood puffing. Then, having demonstrated her <span class="pagenum" id="Page_94" role="doc-pagebreak">94</span>lack of fear, she +went to the kitchen for the ice.</p> + +<p>Rico went over to the bed.</p> + +<p>“Otero,” he said, “have you got any liquor around here?”</p> + +<p>“What do I care for liquor!” cried Otero. “I will sing for you.”</p> + +<p>Rico slapped Otero’s face.</p> + +<p>“A hell of a crew I’m mixed up with,” he said.</p> + +<p>Otero looked at him, startled.</p> + +<p>“What is wrong with me?”</p> + +<p>“You’re a dirty yellow bum.”</p> + +<p>“I am not a yellow bum,” cried Otero, trying to sit up.</p> + +<p>Rico struck him hard this time, knocking him back on the bed. Otero put +his hand to his face and looked at Rico.</p> + +<p>“If you got any more liquor here you better tell me where it is,” said +Rico.</p> + +<p>Otero reached under his pillow and pulled out a quart bottle over half +full. Rico slipped it into his pocket.</p> + +<p>Otero’s face got red.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “you give me back my liquor.”</p> + +<p>He tried to sit up but Rico hit him and he fell <span class="pagenum" id="Page_95" role="doc-pagebreak">95</span>back. Seal Skin +came in with a couple of pieces of ice wrapped in a towel.</p> + +<p>“What the hell you want to beat him up for?” she said.</p> + +<p>“I’m gonna get him sober and keep him that way.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah? Well, you’re gonna have a full time job.”</p> + +<p>Rico took the ice, a piece in each hand, and began to rub it over +Otero’s face and chest. He rubbed hard and it hurt Otero, who struggled.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “what have I done to you? Rico, you are my friend. Why +do you treat me this way?”</p> + +<p>“He’ll be bawling next,” said Seal Skin.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden Otero got angry and struggled so fiercely that he threw +Rico off and climbed out of bed. The ice clattered to the floor. Rico +took one step toward him and set himself for a punch, but Seal Skin +grabbed his arm.</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake let up on him,” she cried, “ain’t he in bad enough +shape?”</p> + +<p>Rico was furious. He slapped Seal Skin across the face with his open +hand.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96" role="doc-pagebreak">96</span>“A fine bunch of yellow bellies and squealers I’m mixed up with,” +he cried. “Listen, idiot, ain’t he a meal ticket? You want the black +wagon to come and haul him away?”</p> + +<p>Otero reeled across the room. Rico leapt after him and knocked him to +the floor. Otero raised his head.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “what have I done to you?”</p> + +<p>Rico picked up the ice and kneeling down beside Otero began to rub him +with it, harder than before. Otero gasped.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Rico, “you got to get sober. I’m your friend, Otero. I +don’t want to see you get us all hung. Listen, Otero, do you get what +I’m saying? You got to sober up and stay that way.”</p> + +<p>Tears ran down Otero’s cheeks.</p> + +<p>“All right, Rico,” he said.</p> + +<p>In half an hour Rico had him sober. Seal Skin was sitting with her feet +on the window sill, smoking one of Otero’s big cigars. Otero sat pale +and shaken, looking at Rico.</p> + +<p>“Well, big boy,” said Seal Skin, “I got to hand it to you. You done it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97" role="doc-pagebreak">97</span>Rico smiled. Then he took out his billfold and handed Seal Skin a +ten.</p> + +<p>“There’s a little cush for you. You ain’t sore at me cause I socked +you, are you? I got red hot mad, that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t sock me hard,” said Seal Skin, “but it was ten dollars’ +worth.”</p> + +<p>Otero didn’t have much to say. He sat looking at the floor, ashamed of +himself.</p> + +<p>“How do you feel?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>“Me, not so good,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>“Want a little drink?”</p> + +<p>Otero looked at Rico, not trusting him, then he nodded. Rico handed him +the bottle.</p> + +<p>“I said little drink,” cautioned Rico.</p> + +<p>Otero took a swallow and handed back the bottle.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Rico, “get your clothes on and we’ll take a look at Tony.”</p> + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THERE were many rumors in Little Italy about the passing of Sam +Vettori. The full <span class="pagenum" id="Page_98" role="doc-pagebreak">98</span>truth, of course, was only guessed at, but the +simple facts were known. Sam Vettori’s star was setting, Rico’s was +rising. Rico had always been right; there was never any question of +that. Rico had always inspired fear. But now, as the probable head of +a big minor gang whose activities were varied and whose yearly income +was enormous, his potentialities were prodigiously increased and he was +treated accordingly.</p> + +<p>When he entered Tony’s flat several members of the Vettori gang, +sitting near the door, got up and offered him their chairs. He merely +shook his head and walked across to where Sam Vettori was sitting. +Otero, who had entered a little behind Rico, stopped to talk with +Blackie Avezzano.</p> + +<p>Carillo brought a chair for Rico and Rico sat down beside Sam Vettori.</p> + +<p>“We’re going to plant the kid right,” said Vettori, “that’ll look good.”</p> + +<p>Rico stared across the room at a large horseshoe wreath which bore the +single word: Tony. That was his contribution.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_99" role="doc-pagebreak">99</span>He was a little uneasy. Not that he felt any remorse. What he had +done was merely an act of policy. A man in this game must be a man. If +he gets yellow, why, there’s only one remedy for it. No, Rico was never +likely to err on the side of contrition. It was the massed flowers; +their sickly and overpowering odor made him vaguely uneasy.</p> + +<p>“They sure fix ’em up good now,” said Vettori, nodding in the direction +of the coffin; “he don’t look dead. He looks like he was asleep.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“It beats me how they do it,” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>Carillo came across the room and whispered to Rico and Vettori.</p> + +<p>“Two bulls in the hallway.”</p> + +<p>“They coming in?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>“No, just standing there.”</p> + +<p>“All right.”</p> + +<p>There was a movement at the door. Mrs. Passalacqua came in between two +of her friends. She had been at St. Dominick’s for over an hour. Rico +got up and offered her his chair. One of the women helped her off with +her hat. She sat down. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_100" role="doc-pagebreak">100</span>Her gray hair was parted in the middle and +drawn tightly down; her face was a dead white. She was wearing a plain +black dress and she sat with her hands in her lap. She looked at no +one, but fastened her eyes on the coffin.</p> + +<p>Rico walked over to look at Tony. At the head of the coffin were two +big candles, one of them leaning a little and dripping tallow. Tony +lay with his hands folded. Rico looked down. Somehow he had expected +Tony to be changed. He was not. Here lay the same Tony who used to +play poker with such fury. The same Tony, yes, only dead. Rico saw the +rigidity of the face, the parchment skin. He stood there, looking.</p> + +<p>Carillo put his hand on Rico’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Bulls want to see you, boss.”</p> + +<p>Rico nodded.</p> + +<p>“They want you to come out in the hall.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, turning away from the coffin, “tell Otero.”</p> + +<p>Otero came over beside Rico and stood looking at Tony.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Rico, “this may be a pinch. I don’t know. If it is, I’ll +go with them. They ain’t <span class="pagenum" id="Page_101" role="doc-pagebreak">101</span>got nothing on me. But if there’s any +trouble, Scabby’ll keep you posted. Ma’s got my jack, see?”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Rico started across the room and Otero followed him. Before Rico +reached the door Tony’s mother suddenly put her hands to her face and +began to sob wildly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Tony, Tony!” she cried.</p> + +<p>The women who had come in with her tried to quiet her, but she pushed +them away, and, rising, walked over to the coffin and stood looking +down at Tony. Then, still sobbing, she let the women lead her into the +next room.</p> + +<p>“That’s a woman for you,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Otero, shrugging, “Tony was her son.”</p> + +<p>The hallway was lined with poor Italians who, not knowing the +Passalacquas, had come out of curiosity. They stood in silent groups, +trying to peep in through the open door. Women in disreputable +housedresses carrying dirty children; pregnant women; old men with +crinkly gray hair and seamed brown faces; young girls trying to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102" role="doc-pagebreak">102</span>look up-to-date and American. When Rico came out they all stared +at him.</p> + +<p>Flaherty took hold of his arm.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “come down to the end of the hall. I want to see you a +minute.”</p> + +<p>“Is this a pinch?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>Flaherty laughed.</p> + +<p>“Got a bad conscience, have you? Well, you ought to have.”</p> + +<p>Rico noticed that the other detective, whom he had never seen before, +kept staring at him. Rico planted his feet firmly and stared back.</p> + +<p>“What’s the big idea, Flaherty?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Flaherty, “just to put your mind at rest I’ll tell you, +this ain’t a pinch. It ought to be, but it ain’t. Now will you take a +walk...?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Otero came out into the hallway and stood watching them. Rico went down +to the end of the hall with the two plain-clothes men. Some of the poor +Italians followed them and stood staring. But Flaherty motioned them +off as if he were shooing chickens.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103" role="doc-pagebreak">103</span>“Beat it,” he said; “go tend to your own business.”</p> + +<p>They moved away slowly, looking back.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “let’s have it.”</p> + +<p>Flaherty took out a big cigar and began chewing on it. The other man +kept staring. Rico was puzzled and wondered what the game was; then he +noticed that the light at their end of the hall was good, much better +than any other place in the hall. The once-over? Well, what then.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Rico,” said Flaherty, “I like you and I’m going to give you a +tip. It’s going to be tough on you birds from now on. The Old Man’s got +his back up. Now get this. If you got anything on your mind, you better +spill it.” Flaherty paused to light his cigar. The other detective +watched Rico intently. “Because it’s going to be easy for the bird that +spilled it first. But God help the rest of them.”</p> + +<p>Rico smiled slightly.</p> + +<p>“Quit stalling,” he said.</p> + +<p>Flaherty glanced at the man with him, but the man shook his head. +Flaherty said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104" role="doc-pagebreak">104</span>“Well, I’m giving you a friendly tip.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “you bulls always was friendly as hell. I spent two +years once just thinking how friendly you was. Listen, I ain’t got +nothing to spill. What the hell’s wrong with you, Flaherty? Did I ever +do any spilling?”</p> + +<p>Flaherty laughed.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “there’s a first time for everything. All right, Rico, +you can go.”</p> + +<p>The two plain-clothes men pushed their way through the crowd and went +down the stairs. Rico went back into Tony’s flat. Sam Vettori and Otero +were waiting for him. Vettori was mopping his face with his big white +silk handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Rico shrugged.</p> + +<p>“Just stalling.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the game?”</p> + +<p>“You got me. I guess Flaherty wanted this other bird to give me the +once-over.”</p> + +<p>“Things getting pretty hot, Rico.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t beef, Sam. We’re gonna come through.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105" role="doc-pagebreak">105</span>Otero said:</p> + +<p>“The old lady sure is taking it hard.”</p> + +<p>They could hear Tony’s mother sobbing loudly in the next room.</p> +</section> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="part4-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_107" role="doc-pagebreak">107</div> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="part4-hd">PART IV</h2> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_109" role="doc-pagebreak">109</div> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dcap">FOR three or four years Bat Carillo, once a third-rate +light-heavyweight, had been the leader of one of Vettori’s gangs +of hooligans. The members of this gang specialized in strong arm +stuff and intimidation; they threw bombs; they smashed up barrooms +and vice-joints operated by rival gangs. They were, in other words, +Vettori’s shock troops. Carillo was an excellent lieutenant, as +he always carried out orders to the letter; and was congenitally +incapable of imagining himself as chief in his own right. A good honest +subordinate without ambition. Vettori trusted him.</p> + +<p>In Carillo’s attitude since the killing of Courtney, therefore, +Vettori saw the most unmistakable symptom of his own passing. Carillo +had attached himself to Rico and called him “boss.” Carillo was not +careless with the word “boss”; it was not a conventional expression; +when he said “boss” he meant it. Aroused, Vettori saw similar +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110" role="doc-pagebreak">110</span>manifestations all around him; in Blackie Avezzano, in Killer +Pepi, in a dozen others.</p> + +<p>Vettori had always disliked Rico. Now he hated him. If Carillo or +Killer Pepi had remained faithful he would have had one of them kill +him and damn the consequences. But there was no question of that now. +He knew that he was whipped and he saw the necessity of a compromise. +Hanging was just over the horizon and Rico’s gun promised an even more +certain death. Vettori had never split with anyone. He had always taken +with both hands and given as little as possible. But it was split now +or die and Vettori could not contemplate the prospect of dying with any +degree of complacency. He sent for Rico.</p> + +<p>A new Rico appeared, followed by Otero, Carillo, and Killer Pepi. Rico +was wearing a big ulster like Joe’s and a derby also like Joe’s. He +had on fawn-colored spats drawn over pointed patent-leather shoes; and +a diamond horseshoe pin sparkled in a red, green and white striped +necktie.</p> + +<p>Vettori looked him over and winked at Killer <span class="pagenum" id="Page_111" role="doc-pagebreak">111</span>Pepi, but Killer +Pepi’s face was stony. Carillo got a chair for Rico.</p> + +<p>“What’s on your mind, Sam?” said Rico, sitting down, throwing back his +ulster and pulling up his trousers to preserve the crease.</p> + +<p>Vettori hesitated.</p> + +<p>“I want to see you alone,” he said.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico, “I think I know your game, Sam, and I want the boys to +get an earful. Go ahead and spill it.”</p> + +<p>Vettori began to sweat. Killer Pepi said:</p> + +<p>“Yeah, we know.”</p> + +<p>“You know a hell of a lot, don’t you?” said Vettori.</p> + +<p>“We know, all right,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>Nobody said anything. Rico took off his hat and began to comb his hair. +Vettori got out his cards and began to lay out a game of solitaire.</p> + +<p>Pepi said:</p> + +<p>“We know you went yellow, Sam, when Tony blew his top and started after +Come-To-Jesus McConagha. We know all right.”</p> + +<p>Vettori looked up at him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112" role="doc-pagebreak">112</span>“What the hell I got you guys for anyway! Who hands out the cush?”</p> + +<p>Rico paused in the combing of his hair.</p> + +<p>“Don’t get rough, Sam.”</p> + +<p>Killer Pepi went over and stood with his back against the door. Otero +sat down opposite Vettori.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “if you want to see me, spill it quick because I +ain’t got all night.”</p> + +<p>Vettori sighed profoundly, then he put down his cards and looked at the +men around him. He saw four hostile faces.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Vettori, “but why the strong arm stuff, Rico? Sit +down, you guys, and I’ll have some drinks sent up.”</p> + +<p>The three men looked at Rico.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said, “go bring up some drinks, Bat.”</p> + +<p>Carillo went out. Nobody said anything. Outside, a winter dusk settled +and the big electric sign on a level with the windows was switched on. +They sat looking at the sign.</p> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum" id="Page_113" role="doc-pagebreak">113</span>CLUB<br> + <br> + P<br> + A<br> + L<br> + E<br> + R<br> + M<br> + O<br> + <br> + DANCING +</p> + +<p>Carillo brought in the drinks and they all sat around the table under +the green-shaded lamp. Otero, Carillo, and Killer Pepi drank whiskey; +Vettori wine; Rico pop.</p> + +<p>Vettori put down his glass.</p> + +<p>“Well, Rico,” he said, “I got a proposition to make you.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “spring it.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Vettori, “I’m getting old. I’ll never see forty-five +again and when a guy’s that old he ain’t worth much.”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t getting old, Sam, you’re losing your guts,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Killer Pepi laughed out loud and banged his <span class="pagenum" id="Page_114" role="doc-pagebreak">114</span>fist on the table. But +Vettori swallowed this insult.</p> + +<p>“All right, Rico,” he said, “that’s your story. Well, here’s how it +is. I need a partner. You’re young, Rico, and you got the guts. All +the guys like you and they’ll do what you say. I got the lay-out and +you’re locking for a chance to be a big guy. Well, here’s your chance.” +Vettori thought for a moment, then he said: “I’ll split the works with +you.”</p> + +<p>Carillo and Pepi exchanged a look. Otero began to hum to himself. But +Rico said:</p> + +<p>“I’ll think it over.”</p> + +<p>Vettori began to sweat again. Was Rico going to get rid of him?</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, putting on a front, “you can take it or leave it. I +like you, Rico, and I’m doing you a favor. Who’s got the money? Who’s +got the pull? What the hell would you guys do if you didn’t have the +Big Boy to pull you through?”</p> + +<p>“I’m O.K. with the Big Boy,” said Rico; “he was up to see me this +morning.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Pepi, “I brung him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115" role="doc-pagebreak">115</span>Vettori laid out a new game of solitaire.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the thing,” said Rico: “you’re trying to hang on, Sam. You must +think we’re dumb as hell. You want me to do the work so you can take it +easy. And you call that an even split. Hear what I say! That ain’t my +idea of a split.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I ain’t handing out charity,” said Vettori, losing his temper.</p> + +<p>Rico got to his feet and buttoned up his ulster.</p> + +<p>“All right, Sam.”</p> + +<p>Vettori slammed down his cards.</p> + +<p>“What do you guys think?” he demanded of Carillo, Pepi and Otero.</p> + +<p>They just looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t that a fair split?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico, “I guess we can’t do no business.”</p> + +<p>Rico put on his hat and walked toward the door. The other three got up +and followed him. Vettori stood up.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “you gonna try to run me out, Rico?”</p> + +<p>Vettori was panicky. Rico stood at the door and looked at him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116" role="doc-pagebreak">116</span>“I was just figuring I’d open a joint across the street,” he said.</p> + +<p>Vettori knew what that meant. He had been through half a dozen gang +wars, but that was long ago when there were at least five separate +gangs in the neighborhood. Things had been comparatively quiet for over +three years. Vettori regretted the past bitterly. He regretted having +taken up with Rico, an unknown Youngstown wop.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “Rico, you’re young and you ain’t got any too much +sense. What the hell! With things the way they are, we wouldn’t none of +us last a month. Listen, Rico, what’s your idea of a split?”</p> + +<p>Rico took off his hat and scratched his head, but carefully so that his +hair wouldn’t be disarranged.</p> + +<p>“I’ll hand you this, Sam,” said Rico, “you got the lay-out. The split’s +good that way. But you got sense enough to know that no two guys can +run things. The lay-out split is O.K. with me, but I got to have the +say, get that!”</p> + +<p>Vettori looked at the others.</p> + +<p>“What do you guys say?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117" role="doc-pagebreak">117</span>“We’re in with Rico,” said Killer Pepi.</p> + +<p>Otero and Carillo nodded. Vettori brought his hand down on the table +with a smack.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” he said.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THE gang gave a banquet for Rico in one of Sam Vettori’s big back +rooms. The table was fifteen feet long and was covered by a fine +white cloth. Red, green and white streamers hung from the chandeliers +and Italian and American flags were crossed at intervals along the +walls. At eleven o’clock the notables began to arrive. Killer Pepi in +a blue suit and a brown derby, with his woman, Blue Jay, on his arm. +Joe Sansone, gunman and ex-lightweight, in a Tuxedo, followed by his +shadow Kid Bean, a Sicilian, dark as a negro. Then Ottavio Vettori, +Sam’s cousin, not yet twenty-one, already famous as a gunman and spoken +of as a potential gang chief. Then Otero, Blackie Avezzano and Bat +Carillo, all with their <span class="pagenum" id="Page_118" role="doc-pagebreak">118</span>women. They stood about stiffly, a little +uncomfortable in their fine clothes, and tried to make conversation. +The men, like all specialists, talked shop. Ottavio Vettori declared +that the police were a bunch of bums. Killer Pepi agreed that they +were. Joe Sansone said that the Federal men were just as bad, only +smarter and crookeder. Killer Pepi agreed that they were. Ottavio +Vettori didn’t agree. He said that the Federal men were dumber and +harder to fix. This brought on an argument.</p> + +<p>When Sam Vettori came in the men were all shouting.</p> + +<p>“What the hell!” said Sam, “ain’t this a fine way to act at a banquet? +You act like a bunch of gashouse micks. Cut the chatter.”</p> + +<p>Ottavio made a noise like a goat.</p> + +<p>“Baa! Baa!”</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed. Otero took out a quart bottle of whiskey, drank from +it and passed it to Seal Skin; she drank and passed it to Ottavio. The +bottle circled the room and returned empty.</p> + +<p>“You sure came prepared, you birds,” said Sam. “Did any of you guys +bring a lunch?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119" role="doc-pagebreak">119</span>“Baa! Baa!” bellowed Ottavio.</p> + +<p>“My God, ain’t that cute!” said Killer Pepi’s girl.</p> + +<p>“Hell, that ain’t nothing,” said Pepi, “listen.” Pepi put three fingers +in his mouth and blew a blast that made their eardrums ring.</p> + +<p>“Lord,” said Ottavio, “the cops! Baa! Baa!”</p> + +<p>Three waiters came in, each carrying two quarts of whiskey. They put +the bottles on the table and went out.</p> + +<p>“That’s an appetizer,” said Sam.</p> + +<p>“Apéritif,” Joe Sansone corrected.</p> + +<p>Ottavio slapped him on the back.</p> + +<p>“What’s that, little Joe? What the hell lingo is that?”</p> + +<p>Joe pushed him away.</p> + +<p>“You dumb birds don’t know nothing. Swell people don’t say appetizer; +they say apéritif.”</p> + +<p>“The hell they do! Well, I expect you know all about it. You used to be +a bellboy at the Blackstone.”</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed. Killer Pepi blew a blast on his fingers. His girl +looked at him admiringly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120" role="doc-pagebreak">120</span>“How the hell you ever learn to do that?”</p> + +<p>“Aw, that ain’t nothing.”</p> + +<p>“Say, Sam,” said Carillo, “when do we eat?”</p> + +<p>“When the boss gets here,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>“Well, he better step on it because I’m so hungry I could eat +dynamite,” said Ottavio.</p> + +<p>“Keep your shirt on,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>“Haven’t got an old soup sandwich in your pocket, have you?” asked +Ottavio.</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed. Ottavio was the recognized wit of the Vettori gang. +All that he had to do to get a laugh was to open his mouth.</p> + +<p>Sam Vettori took one of the quarts from the table and sent it round the +room. It came back empty.</p> + +<p>“What the hell you suppose is keeping Rico?” asked Carillo.</p> + +<p>“Keep your shirt on,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>“I go see,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>As he went out, the Big Boy came in. He had on a big racoon coat and +his derby was on the side of his head. Sam Vettori rushed over and +shook hands with him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121" role="doc-pagebreak">121</span>“What the hell you doing here?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Me, I came to see the fun. Things are looking up, Sam. Things sure to +God are looking up. I think we got ’em whipped.”</p> + +<p>Sam Vettori smiled broadly and poured the Big Boy a drink. Well, well! +If the Courtney business blew over he was sitting pretty. All things +considered, he hadn’t done so bad. Time after time he had seen old gang +leaders go down before younger men. But here he was hanging on, getting +a 50-50 split, and taking no chances. Rico was the goods. Goddam him +and all his kind, but he was the goods.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, “you got the Old Man on the run and +Flaherty’s about ready to do the Dutch Act. It’s gonna blow over, Sam. +You heard me speak. It’s gonna blow over. I want to see Rico.”</p> + +<p>“He ain’t showed yet,” said Sam.</p> + +<p>“Damn smart boy,” said the Big Boy.</p> + +<p>Sam smiled.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he said, pouring the Big Boy another <span class="pagenum" id="Page_122" role="doc-pagebreak">122</span>drink, “damn smart +kid. He’s young yet, but I can show him the ropes.”</p> + +<p>The Big Boy didn’t say anything. He just looked at Vettori.</p> + +<p>Otero came running in, followed by two waiters, one of whom was +carrying a big ulster and a derby; the other was carrying a woman’s fur +coat.</p> + +<p>“Here he comes,” cried Otero.</p> + +<p>Kid Bean, who had collected a crowd in the middle of the room, and +was walking on his hands to amuse them (he had once been an acrobat), +jumped hastily to his feet and backed up against the wall. The crowd +followed him. Killer Pepi said:</p> + +<p>“All right now. Everybody yell like hell when he comes in.”</p> + +<p>Rico came in slowly, talking to Blondy Belle, the swellest woman in +Little Italy. She was a handsome Italian, bold and aquiline. Her +complexion and eyes were dark, but her hair, naturally black, was +blondined, and this gave her an incongruous and a somewhat formidable +appearance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_123" role="doc-pagebreak">123</span>Rico was greeted by an uproar, pierced by Killer Pepi’s shrill +whistle. The Big Boy went to meet Rico and shook hands with him. Sam +Vettori smiled and nodded, very affable, then went out to get things +started. The Big Boy said to Blondy Belle:</p> + +<p>“Got yourself a regular man, did you?”</p> + +<p>Blondy took hold of Rico’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Surest thing you know.”</p> + +<p>The Big Boy laughed.</p> + +<p>“What’d you do with Little Arnie?”</p> + +<p>Rico took out a cigar and bit off the end.</p> + +<p>“She ditched him,” he said.</p> + +<p>The Big Boy meditated. Blondy Belle had been Little Arnie’s woman for +a long time. Little Arnie ran the biggest gambling joint on the North +Side, but he had been slipping for a year or more. He wasn’t right; +nobody could trust him.</p> + +<p>“How did Little Arnie take it?” asked the Big Boy.</p> + +<p>“He took it standing up,” said Blondy Belle.</p> + +<p>“Well, what could he do?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Killer Pepi, Ottavio Vettori and Joe Sansone, as the most important men +in the gang next to <span class="pagenum" id="Page_124" role="doc-pagebreak">124</span>Sam Vettori, came over to shake hands with +Rico.</p> + +<p>“A million dollars ain’t in it with you,” said Pepi, looking his boss +over.</p> + +<p>Rico was wearing a loud striped suit and a purple tie. He still had on +his gloves, yellow kid, of which he was very proud, and his diamond +horseshoe pin had been replaced by a big ruby surrounded by little +diamonds. Ottavio envied him his gloves. But Joe Sansone was not +impressed; he knew better.</p> + +<p>“Yes sir, boss, you sure are lit up,” said Ottavio.</p> + +<p>“Here’s the half-pint,” said Killer Pepi, pushing Joe Sansone forward.</p> + +<p>Joe shook hands with Rico.</p> + +<p>“Yes sir,” said Ottavio, “the half-pint’s a good boy, but he and +Gentleman Joe’re too swell for us.”</p> + +<p>Rico looked around the room.</p> + +<p>“Joe Massara here?”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t seen him,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>“He won’t be here,” said Joe Sansone; “he’s busy.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125" role="doc-pagebreak">125</span>Rico didn’t say anything. Blondy took hold of his arm.</p> + +<p>“I want a drink.”</p> + +<p>Rico looked at Pepi.</p> + +<p>“Get her a drink,” he said.</p> + +<p>The Big Boy took Rico aside and said:</p> + +<p>“I want to see you a minute, Rico.”</p> + +<p>Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Listen, if you see Joe Massara tomorrow you tell him to look me up. I +got something to say to that bird.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be seeing him maybe,” said the Big Boy. “I got a date with his +boss tomorrow morning. There’s a square guy, Rico. DeVoss is a square +guy all right. Never have to nudge him for dough.”</p> + +<p>Rico seemed in a bad humor.</p> + +<p>“They tell me you lined up something good,” said the Big Boy.</p> + +<p>Rico nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yeah, it’s gonna be a money maker. Little Arnie wised me up. I’m gonna +give him a split. That’s the game now. Sam never had sense enough to +get in on it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126" role="doc-pagebreak">126</span>“Little Arnie, eh? That guy’d double-cross his grandmother.”</p> + +<p>“He’ll only double-cross me once,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“I believe you,” said the Big Boy; then, putting his hand on Rico’s +shoulder, he went on: “Funny for you to split with Arnie. How about +Blondy?”</p> + +<p>“Arnie don’t give a damn. He’s all shot to pieces. He can’t do a woman +no good.”</p> + +<p>“No wonder,” said the Big Boy, “with a woman like that.”</p> + +<p>Rico grinned.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t she a bearcat!” he said; then his face clouded. “Wonder what the +hell Joe Massara’s game is?”</p> + +<p>The Big Boy looked at Rico for a moment.</p> + +<p>“That little hunky dancer over at DeVoss’s has got him down. They tell +me he’s going straight.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed unpleasantly.</p> + +<p>“Yeah? Well, I’ll have to go over and give that bird an earful.”</p> + +<p>“Better stay out of that end of town, Rico.”</p> + +<p>“To hell with that.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_127" role="doc-pagebreak">127</span>Sam Vettori came in, followed by three waiters bringing the soup.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Sam, “we’re all set.”</p> + +<p>Rico took his place at the head of the table. The Big Boy sat on his +right and Blondy Belle on his left. The gunmen and their women arranged +themselves according to rank. Blackie Avezzano sat at the foot of the +table.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p class="dcap">WHEN the meal was over the Big Boy asked Rico to make a speech. There +was a prolonged clamor. Rico got up.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said, “if you birds want me to make a speech, here you +are: I want to thank you guys for this banquet. It sure is swell. The +liquor is good, so they tell me, I don’t drink it myself, and the food +don’t leave nothing to be desired. I guess we all had a swell time and +it sure is good to see all you guys gathered together. Well, I guess +that’s about all. Only I wish you guys wouldn’t get drunk and raise +hell, as that’s the way a lot of birds get bumped off.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128" role="doc-pagebreak">128</span>Rico sat down. The applause lasted for over a minute. Then Ottavio +got up with a bottle in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Here’s to Rico and Blondy and the Big Boy.”</p> + +<p>Everybody shouted and made a grab for bottles and glasses. Blackie +Avezzano fell under the table and stayed there, lying on his face. +After the toast was drunk, Killer Pepi and Kid Bean began to quarrel. +The Kid picked up a plate and struck at Pepi, who threw a bottle at the +Kid, missing him by a fraction of an inch.</p> + +<p>Rico banged on the table.</p> + +<p>“Cut it out, you guys. Ain’t that a hell of a way to act?”</p> + +<p>Pepi and the Kid shook hands and another toast was drunk.</p> + +<p>A waiter came in the door and went over to Rico.</p> + +<p>“Couple of newspaper guys, boss. They want to take a flashlight.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the idea?” the Big Boy inquired.</p> + +<p>“Send ’em up,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“We’re gonna get our mugs shot,” cried Blondy Belle.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129" role="doc-pagebreak">129</span>“Maybe we are,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“What’s the idea?” the Big Boy reiterated.</p> + +<p>“We ain’t got nothing to hide,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>The waiter returned, followed by two newspaper men, one of whom was +carrying a big camera. Rico motioned them over.</p> + +<p>“Who sent you?” he asked.</p> + +<p>Sam Vettori came in and went over to Rico.</p> + +<p>“They’re O.K., Rico,” he said, “they been here before.”</p> + +<p>“Sure, we’re O.K.,” said the photographer, a little intimidated by +Rico’s manner.</p> + +<p>“Well, spill it,” said Rico, “what’s the idea of the flashlight?”</p> + +<p>“Well, we got a section in the Sunday paper about how different classes +of people live in Chicago. See? Last week we featured Lake Forest. Had +some pictures of the swells, see, and the dumps where they lived. This +Sunday we want Little Italy. We just heard about the banquet they was +giving you, Mr. Rico, so we kinda thought....”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Rico, “but make it snappy.”</p> + +<p>“I’m out of this picture,” said the Big Boy, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_130" role="doc-pagebreak">130</span>rising and walking +over to the doorway. Sam Vettori took his place.</p> + +<p>After maneuvering about for a few minutes the photographer got the +correct slant. He put the powder on the little tray.</p> + +<p>“Now!” he cried.</p> + +<p>Rico sat with his thumbs in the arm-holes of his vest, looking very +stern. There was a blinding flash. Ottavio Vettori leapt into the +air and crying “My God, I’m shot” fell face down across the table. +Everybody laughed.</p> + +<p>When the newspaper men had gone the Big Boy came over and put his hand +on Rico’s arm.</p> + +<p>“They may pick you up on that.”</p> + +<p>“Who the hell’s gonna see it.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t know who’s gonna see it. That was a bad play, Rico.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“If they pick me up, I’ll alibi them to death.”</p> + +<p>When the banquet was over Rico had Otero call him a cab. Blondy Belle +was a little drunk and Rico had to support her as they went down the +stairs. As she weighed about twenty pounds <span class="pagenum" id="Page_131" role="doc-pagebreak">131</span>more than he did, this +was not an easy job. As they were going out the side-entrance, Flaherty +left his table in the club and came over to them.</p> + +<p>He put his hand on Rico’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Getting up in the world ain’t you, Rico?”</p> + +<p>Rico looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know your old pal Jim Flaherty?”</p> + +<p>“Sure I know you. What’s the big idea?”</p> + +<p>“Go chase yourself around the block, flat-foot,” said Blondy Belle; “if +I ain’t getting sick of seeing bulls.”</p> + +<p>“Hello, Blondy,” said Flaherty, “you and Rico hitting it off, eh? +That’s the old ticket. Rico’s a good boy, but he’s young. If they don’t +put him behind the bars, he’ll be a man yet.”</p> + +<p>“What’s the idea, Flaherty?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>“Why, I don’t want you to forget that I’m your friend,” said Flaherty. +“I got my eyes on you, Rico. I like to see a young guy getting up in +the world.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>The cab was waiting at the curb and one of the waiters went out and +opened the door for <span class="pagenum" id="Page_132" role="doc-pagebreak">132</span>them. Rico boosted Blondy Belle into the cab. +Flaherty stood in the doorway and watched them drive off.</p> + +<p>“The nerve of that Irish bastard,” said Blondy.</p> + +<p>But Rico had forgotten Flaherty. He sat thinking about Joe Massara. +Gentleman Joe was getting too good for them, eh? He was going to turn +softie.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess not,” said Rico.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THE sound of the pianola woke Rico. He sat up and looked at his wrist +watch. It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon. He had slept twelve hours.</p> + +<p>Rico lived at a tension. His nervous system was geared up to such a +pitch that he was never sleepy, never felt the desire to relax, was +always keenly alive. He did not average over five hours sleep a night +and as soon as he opened his eyes he was awake. When he sat in a chair +he never thrust out his feet and lolled, but sat rigid and alert. +He walked, ate, took his pleasures in the <span class="pagenum" id="Page_133" role="doc-pagebreak">133</span>same manner. What +distinguished him from his associates was his inability to live in the +present. He was like a man on a long train journey to a promised land. +To him the present was but a dingy way-station; he had his eyes on the +end of the journey. This is the mental attitude of a man destined for +success. But the resultant tension had its drawbacks. He was subject +to periodic slumps. His energy would suddenly disappear; he would lose +interest in everything and for several days would sleep twelve to +fifteen hours at a stretch. This was a dangerous weakness, and Rico was +aware of it and feared it.</p> + +<p>Rico leapt out of bed and hastily put on his clothes.</p> + +<p>“Twelve hours, boy,” he said to his reflection in the mirror, as he +stood combing his hair, “that’ll never do.”</p> + +<p>He had been seeing too much of Blondy Belle; that was the trouble. +Rico had very little to do with women. He regarded them with a sort +of contempt; they seemed so silly, reckless and purposeless, also +mendacious and extremely undependable. Not that Rico trusted men, far +from it. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_134" role="doc-pagebreak">134</span>He was temperamentally suspicious. But in the course of +his life he had discovered a few men he could trust, but no women. What +he feared most in women, though, was not their treachery, that could +be guarded against, but their ability to relax a man, to make him soft +and slack, like Joe Massara. Rico had never been deeply involved with +a woman. Incapable of tender sentiments, he had escaped the commoner +kind of pitfalls. He was given to short bursts of lust, and, this lust +once satisfied, he looked at women impersonally for a while, as one +looks at inanimate objects. But at times this lust, usually the result +of an inner need and not the outcome of exterior stimulus, would be +aroused by the sight of some particular woman. This had been the case +with Blondy Belle; she was big, healthy and lascivious. This exactly +suited Rico’s tastes; she excited him, and for that very reason he was +on guard against her.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he said, “I got to lay off Blondy for a while.”</p> + +<p>She wanted him to come and live with her, but he refused. The offer +tickled his vanity, though, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_135" role="doc-pagebreak">135</span>for Pepi or Joe Sansone would have +jumped at the chance. But not Rico. He fought shy of any kind of ties. +A slight relaxing of this principal and you are tangled up before you +know it. The strong travel light.</p> + +<p>He went out into the living room. Blondy, in a cerise kimono, was +pedaling the pianola and singing loudly. The room was in disorder. +Stockings hung from the backs of chairs, the dress Blondy had worn the +night before was suspended from the chandelier on a coat-hanger, and +there was a pile of clothes in the middle of the room.</p> + +<p>Blondy turned around and smiled at him, pedaling the piano at the same +time.</p> + +<p>“What the hell kind of a piece is that?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>“That’s an Eyetalian piece,” said Blondy. “Ain’t it swell?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico, “I like jazz better.”</p> + +<p>Blondy stopped the pianola and back-pedaled the roll.</p> + +<p>“I got it yesterday because I thought you’d like it,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Hell, quit kidding,” said Rico.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136" role="doc-pagebreak">136</span>“I sure did. It’s from an Opera.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah? Say, what’s wrong with you?”</p> + +<p>Blondy looked at him. She had pretensions. Ten years ago she had been +a lady’s maid and she felt that she was somewhat cultured. One summer +she had even made Little Arnie take her to Ravinia Park to hear the +Opera. The soprano impressed her by her loud singing; the tenor by his +beautiful legs.</p> + +<p>“You’d think I was a regular wop to hear you talk,” said Rico; “say, I +was born in Youngstown and I can’t even speak the lingo.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I wasn’t born in the old country either,” said Blondy.</p> + +<p>She put a new roll on the pianola and Rico sat smoking, while she +played it. Rico had no ear for music; he couldn’t even whistle, or +distinguish one tune from another. But he liked rhythm. There was +something straightforward and primitive about jazz rhythms that +impressed him.</p> + +<p>“That’s a good one,” he said, when the roll was played through.</p> + +<p>“Want to hear some more?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137" role="doc-pagebreak">137</span>“No,” said Rico, “I got to go.”</p> + +<p>He rose and went over to the closet for his overcoat, but Blondy said:</p> + +<p>“Listen, Rico, I want to see you a minute before you go.”</p> + +<p>“What about?”</p> + +<p>“About Little Arnie.”</p> + +<p>Rico stared at her.</p> + +<p>“What’s the idea? To hell with Little Arnie. As long as he’s straight +with me I ain’t got no interest in him at all.”</p> + +<p>“He ain’t straight with nobody.”</p> + +<p>Rico just looked at her.</p> + +<p>Little Arnie had played his hand badly. At first he hadn’t minded +losing Blondy Belle in the least; she cost him a good deal of money +and she bored and irritated him. But he had been kidded unmercifully. +As he had no sense of humor whatever and was very touchy in a personal +matter, this eventually angered him. In revenge, he talked. He told +all who would listen that Blondy Belle was a liar, a crook, and had +certain unnatural appetites. Killer Pepi was one of the auditors and he +immediately repeated Little <span class="pagenum" id="Page_138" role="doc-pagebreak">138</span>Arnie’s assertions to his woman, Blue +Jay, who ran at once to Blondy Belle. Yes, Little Arnie, who was fifty +percent fool, had played his hand badly.</p> + +<p>Blondy lit a cigarette and lay down on the davenport.</p> + +<p>“Come over here and sit down,” she said; “I’ll give you an earful.”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t got no time,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Blondy blew out a cloud of smoke.</p> + +<p>“Arnie’s double-crossing you right now!” said Blondy.</p> + +<p>“What you got on your mind?” said Rico; “spill it.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Blondy. “Arnie’s giving you a split on the house, +ain’t he? What’s the split?”</p> + +<p>“Thirty percent.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know you’re getting thirty?”</p> + +<p>“I look at the books.”</p> + +<p>Blondy laughed.</p> + +<p>“Them books is crooked.”</p> + +<p>“Straight dope?” asked Rico, his face hardening.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Blondy, “I wasn’t gonna say nothing. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_139" role="doc-pagebreak">139</span>It wasn’t none +of my business, but Arnie’s been peddling a lot of loose talk about me +and I don’t take that.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “now you know so damn much, how we gonna prove +it?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a cinch,” said Blondy; “hand Arnie’s boy, Joe Peeper, some dough +and he’ll spill the news. Joe hates Arnie.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” said Rico, banging the table with his fist; “I’ll run Arnie out +of town and declare you in, Blondy. You got brains.”</p> + +<p>Blondy looked at him.</p> + +<p>“You stick to me, boy, and we’ll own the town.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t get swelled up,” said Rico, “just because you happened to be in +the know.”</p> + +<p>That’s what she liked about Rico. He was hard to impress.</p> + +<p>“Hell of a lot of thanks I get for it,” said Blondy.</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry about that,” said Rico, his head buzzing with projects, +“you’ll get something better than thanks.”</p> + +<p>Rico went to the closet and got his coat and hat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140" role="doc-pagebreak">140</span>“Wait a minute, big boy,” said Blondy, “you ain’t heard it all. +Listen, that joint of Arnie’s is worth plenty of dough. He ain’t gonna +give it up without a battle.”</p> + +<p>“Hell,” said Rico, “he’s yellow.”</p> + +<p>“Sure he is. But he’s tricky. Rico, if you can’t work the Joe Peeper +stunt, here’s a lever. Remember Limpy John?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico, “they bumped him off.”</p> + +<p>“Who did?”</p> + +<p>“The cops.”</p> + +<p>Blondy laughed.</p> + +<p>“They thought they did. Arnie bumped him off.”</p> + +<p>Rico grinned.</p> + +<p>“I got you.”</p> + +<p>Rico put on his overcoat.</p> + +<p>“Be round tonight?” asked Blondy.</p> + +<p>“No, I got business.”</p> + +<p>“Monkey business.”</p> + +<p>“No, I got to go cross town. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow.”</p> + +<p>Blondy lay back on the davenport.</p> + +<p>“You’ll sure be missing something,” she said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141" role="doc-pagebreak">141</span>“I’ll ketch up,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>When Rico had gone, Blondy played a couple of rolls on the pianola, +then she drank half a pint of liquor and went back to bed.</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p class="dcap">RICO found the door of his apartment unlocked. Before entering he +unbuttoned his overcoat and took out his automatic. Only one person had +a key to his apartment except himself: Otero. If Otero wasn’t in there +then whoever was in there was in trouble. Rico opened the door slowly. +Otero was sitting with his chair tipped back against the wall, smoking +a cigarette and dozing.</p> + +<p>“Otero!”</p> + +<p>Otero opened his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Hello, boss.”</p> + +<p>Rico locked the door behind him.</p> + +<p>“Listen, don’t you know better than to leave that door open?”</p> + +<p>“I forgot, Rico.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142" role="doc-pagebreak">142</span>Rico took off his overcoat and hat.</p> + +<p>“You better keep your head working, boy,” said Rico, “or you’ll get +your neck stretched. What you doing here, anyway?”</p> + +<p>Otero got up from his chair and stood dangling his hat.</p> + +<p>“I want money.”</p> + +<p>Rico looked at him.</p> + +<p>“I’m broke, boss. I ain’t got a cent.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed. Otero seemed so helpless.</p> + +<p>“You mean to tell me you ain’t got a cent out of that Casa Alvarado +split?”</p> + +<p>Otero shrugged.</p> + +<p>“What in hell did you do with it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Seal she spends money, spends money. I take it out of my pocket +till I ain’t got any more.” Otero shrugged and rolled a fresh cigarette.</p> + +<p>Rico took out his billfold and handed Otero a fifty.</p> + +<p>“I’ll take that out of your next split.”</p> + +<p>Otero smiled.</p> + +<p>“That’s all the same to me, boss.”</p> + +<p>He was speaking the truth. He hadn’t the slightest conception of the +value of money. He <span class="pagenum" id="Page_143" role="doc-pagebreak">143</span>spent till what he had was gone, then he asked +Rico for more. Rico shook his head.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Otero, ain’t you never gonna get no sense! You got over a +grand and a half out of that Casa Alvarado stand. And here you are +broke. Why some guys work a whole year for less than that.”</p> + +<p>Otero shrugged.</p> + +<p>“I have worked for two pesos a week.”</p> + +<p>Rico took some small change out of his pocket and handed it to Otero.</p> + +<p>“Go down to the corner and get a couple of Tribunes. Get three.”</p> + +<p>“Three of the same kind?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>Otero went out. Rico opened the window a few inches and sat down +beside it. There was a touch of Spring in the air and it made him feel +restless. He wanted to be doing things. In a week or less, he’d have +Little Arnie’s big gambling joint. That meant dough and plenty of it. +He’d turn it over to Sam Vettori and let him run it. Sam was looking +for something to do. Then maybe he could muscle in on the North Side +graft. That <span class="pagenum" id="Page_144" role="doc-pagebreak">144</span>wasn’t easy. Pete Montana was a wise bird and he had +the North Side tied up. Well, maybe the Big Boy could help him there. +Rico jumped to his feet and began to pace up and down.</p> + +<p>Otero came in with the papers. Rico took them from him and tore one of +them apart till he came to the magazine section. There it was. Big type +proclaimed:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="center">ITALIAN UNDERWORLD CHIEF GIVEN BIG FEED</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Otero, looking over Rico’s shoulder, saw the flashlight picture. In his +excitement he pushed Rico aside and placing his finger on a section of +the picture, cried:</p> + +<p>“There I am!”</p> + +<p>Rico took the other two papers apart and got out the magazine sections. +Then he put the three sections side by side and compared them.</p> + +<p>“All too dark,” he said.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, having chosen the clearest one of the three, he took his +scissors and cut it out.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145" role="doc-pagebreak">145</span>I want one too,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “help yourself.”</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p class="dcap">DEVOSS was standing in the lobby when Rico came in. DeVoss looked +him over thoroughly, positive that he was out of his element in an +atmosphere as exclusive as that of The Bronze Peacock. Not that Rico +looked the least bit shabby. If anything, he was dressed more carefully +than usual, from his modish derby to his fawn-colored spats. The big +ulster he was wearing hid the loud striped suit and a plain dark +muffler hid the loud striped tie. No, sartorially Rico could pass at +The Bronze Peacock. But there was something vulgar and predatory about +him that did not escape DeVoss.</p> + +<p>“That’s a bad one there,” he told himself.</p> + +<p>Rico glanced about the lobby, taking everything in from habit. It was +not a good plant but it could be worked. Not that he had any intention +of working it, but you never know. He came up to DeVoss and said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146" role="doc-pagebreak">146</span>“Excuse me, but where’ll I find the manager of this place.”</p> + +<p>DeVoss looked at him coldly.</p> + +<p>“I’m the manager.”</p> + +<p>Rico grinned.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “I guess we got a mutual friend. The Big Boy tells me +you and him does business together.”</p> + +<p>DeVoss’s manner changed abruptly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. You’re one of his friends, are you? What can I do for you?”</p> + +<p>“I want to see Joe Massara.”</p> + +<p>“That’s easy,” said DeVoss, “he’s back in his dressing-room. I’ll take +you back.”</p> + +<p>Rico followed DeVoss and they went up a few steps at the end of the +lobby and came out into the club proper. It was empty except for a +couple of electricians who were working on the stage spotlights.</p> + +<p>“So you’re one of the Big Boy’s friends,” said DeVoss, curious.</p> + +<p>“I’m Rico.”</p> + +<p>DeVoss looked at him, startled.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” he said, “you’re Rico.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147" role="doc-pagebreak">147</span>All the way up the rear corridor DeVoss kept looking sideways at +Rico. One of Little Arnie’s men had told him about the new Vettori gang +chief. Dangerous as dynamite! He congratulated himself on his acumen. +By God, he kept repeating to himself, I knew he was a bad one.</p> + +<p>DeVoss knocked at Joe’s door. Someone called “come in.” DeVoss opened +the door and Rico followed him into the room. Joe was sitting in his +shirt sleeves, his vest off, displaying a pair of fancy suspenders. +(Rico made a mental note of the suspenders. His taste ran more to fancy +sleeve garters. But if men like Joe were wearing fancy suspenders, why, +he’d have to get himself a pair.) Olga Stassoff, in a black, red and +gold Japanese kimono, was lying on a lounge, holding a Pekingese on +her chest and rubbing its face against her own. A big man in evening +clothes was standing with his back to the door. When Joe saw Rico he +got to his feet in a hurry and stood smiling a little uneasily. The big +man turned around.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rico wants to see you, Joe,” said DeVoss; then he put his hand on +Rico’s arm and said: <span class="pagenum" id="Page_148" role="doc-pagebreak">148</span>“When you get done with Joe, why, come up to +the office and we’ll have a little drink.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” said Rico, “I don’t use it. But thanks just the same.”</p> + +<p>DeVoss’s eyebrows rose.</p> + +<p>“You mean you don’t drink!”</p> + +<p>“Rico drinks milk,” said Joe, trying to be funny.</p> + +<p>But Rico didn’t even smile.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he said, “sometimes I drink milk.”</p> + +<p>“Well, drop in anyway on your way out,” said DeVoss.</p> + +<p>DeVoss closed the door. Rico noticed that the girl in the Japanese +kimono was staring at him. She didn’t look like much to him; too +skinny; all the same he insolently ran his eyes over her. The big man +said:</p> + +<p>“I guess there’s no use for us to offer you a drink.”</p> + +<p>Joe took Rico by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Olga, I want you to meet Rico. Rico, this is Olga Stassoff.”</p> + +<p>“Pleased to meet you,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Olga sat up and tried to smile, but it was no <span class="pagenum" id="Page_149" role="doc-pagebreak">149</span>use. Rico was +repulsive to her, principally because she was certain that he had +killed Joe’s friend, Tony, but also because he stared at her insolently +with his small, pale eyes.</p> + +<p>“This boy here,” said Joe, taking the big man familiarly by the arm, +“is Mr. Willoughby, the millionaire.”</p> + +<p>“Why bring that up?” said Willoughby.</p> + +<p>Rico had an instinctive respect for wealth. Money was power. He smiled +affably and offered his hand.</p> + +<p>“Pleased to meet you,” he said.</p> + +<p>Willoughby shook hands strenuously, then he inquired:</p> + +<p>“Have you got some private business with Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “but there ain’t no hurry about it.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” said Willoughby. “Olga and I’ll go over next door. +Eh, Olga? When you get through, why, give us a rap and we’ll come back. +Don’t suppose I could persuade you to join us in a little supper before +the show?”</p> + +<p>Rico was flattered.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “I might.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_150" role="doc-pagebreak">150</span>“Good,” said Willoughby; then taking Olga by the hand he pulled +her to her feet. But Olga hesitated and stood looking from Joe to Rico.</p> + +<p>“Run along, baby,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t take all night about it,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“I won’t keep him long,” Rico put in.</p> + +<p>When Olga and Willoughby had gone Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Flying pretty high, ain’t you, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Willoughby’s just one of Olga’s fish. He’s gonna back her in a big +show.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah? Well, if that bird’s got a million bucks you both better clamp +onto him. Nice little Jane you got, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Olga’s O.K.,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Rico unbuttoned his ulster to display his finery. He had on one of his +striped suits. It was dead black with a narrow pink stripe. The color +scheme was further complicated by a pale blue shirt and an orange and +white striped tie adorned with the ruby pin.</p> + +<p>Joe stared at him.</p> + +<p>“All lit up, ain’t you, Rico?” he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151" role="doc-pagebreak">151</span>Rico nodded, pleased.</p> + +<p>“Yeah, I kind of got it into my head I ought to dress up now.”</p> + +<p>“They tell me you crowded Sam out,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Rico looked at him.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t nobody tell you the boys was giving a banquet for me?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah, they told me,” said Joe, hurriedly, “but it was on at the wrong +time for me.”</p> + +<p>Rico took out a cigar and bit off the end of it.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t seen you since the big stand.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Joe, looking at the floor. “I been laying low. They had me +scared.”</p> + +<p>Rico banged his fist on the arm of his chair.</p> + +<p>“Goddam it, Joe, what you got up your sleeve?”</p> + +<p>Joe looked startled. He sat silent and from time to time raised his +eyes to glance at Rico, who was staring at him.</p> + +<p>“Spill it, Joe,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Joe, “I been making pretty good money with my dancing. +Olga and me has got a turn together that’s going over big. They want to +put us in a show. Listen, Rico, I got enough of <span class="pagenum" id="Page_152" role="doc-pagebreak">152</span>the racket. This +last stand damn near fixed me. Jesus, but we was lucky.”</p> + +<p>“We ain’t out yet,” said Rico, “and we don’t want no softies spoiling +things.”</p> + +<p>Rico and Joe stared at each other for a moment. Joe began to get pale.</p> + +<p>“You ain’t dumb, Joe,” said Rico, “what the devil! You mean to tell me +you’re gonna quit the racket. Why, boy, you ain’t seen nothing yet. In +a couple of weeks I’m gonna take over Little Arnie’s joint. The Big Boy +even wants to be declared in. Listen, Joe, you’re a smart boy and I can +use you. To hell with that dancing stuff. As a front it’s O.K., but no +man’s gonna make his living that way.”</p> + +<p>Joe slumped down in his chair.</p> + +<p>“I got your number, Joe,” Rico went on, “it’s that damn skirt. She’s +making a softie of you, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Lord, Rico,” said Joe, “can’t a guy quit? I ain’t gonna spill nothing. +You think I want to get my neck stretched?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah? Look at Tony. He turned soft and they patted him with a spade. +Once a guy turns soft <span class="pagenum" id="Page_153" role="doc-pagebreak">153</span>he ain’t no good in this world. Didn’t +Humpy get soft on Red Gus and turn State’s? Yeah! Who got the neck +stretching? Red Gus. Humpy got fifteen years and he’ll be out in half +of that.”</p> + +<p>Joe slumped further down in his chair.</p> + +<p>“Rico, you know I ain’t yellow.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “if that’s the dope, I can use you. Ottavio and +me has been figuring on a little stand that won’t be half bad. I need a +good inside man, Joe. A cut will be worth two grand at least.”</p> + +<p>Someone knocked at the door. It was DeVoss. He came over to Rico and +said:</p> + +<p>“Mr. Rico, there’s a couple of dicks out in the lobby. When I asked +them what they wanted, they said they was just looking around.”</p> + +<p>Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Two bits it’s Flaherty. All right, Mr. DeVoss, thanks.”</p> + +<p>DeVoss went out. Joe got to his feet and turned agonized eyes on Rico.</p> + +<p>“What did you have to come clear across town for, Rico? Can’t you let +me alone?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_154" role="doc-pagebreak">154</span>Rico paid no attention to him.</p> + +<p>“There’s one Irishman,” he said, “that ain’t long for this world.”</p> + +<p>“Rico,” said Joe, “for God’s sake stay over in your own end of town. I +don’t want the bulls coming here.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Rico, his eyes glowing, “if I hear any more of this +softie stuff I’ll only be back once more.”</p> + +<p>Willoughby and Olga came in.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t you rap for us?” asked Willoughby.</p> + +<p>“No, that was DeVoss,” said Rico, “but we’re done. Say, Mr. Willoughby, +I sure am sorry but I got to pass up that invitation of yours. I got +some important business with a couple of guys.”</p> + +<p>“Sorry,” said Willoughby.</p> + +<p>“Yes, we’re sorry,” said Olga, trying to be affable on Joe’s account.</p> + +<p>Rico shook hands with Joe.</p> + +<p>“I’ll be seeing you.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Rico,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>When Rico emerged he saw DeVoss coming down the corridor. He looked +somewhat agitated.</p> + +<p>“They’re sure enough looking for you, Mr. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_155" role="doc-pagebreak">155</span>Rico. For Lord’s sake +don’t cause no trouble in my place.”</p> + +<p>Rico grinned.</p> + +<p>“There won’t be no trouble unless them damn dummies out there start it.”</p> + +<p>Rico followed DeVoss back through the club. On the stage the orchestra +was tuning up and a few early couples were sitting at the tables. When +they got to the lobby Rico saw Flaherty and another detective. Flaherty +came over to him.</p> + +<p>“Well, Rico,” he said, “kind of out of your territory, ain’t you?”</p> + +<p>“What the hell of it?”</p> + +<p>Rico buttoned his ulster and carefully arranged his muffler.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing. Don’t you remember I told you I was keeping an eye on +you? Sure thing. I’m interested in young guys that want to get up in +the world.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, can that,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>He noticed that people were coming into the place; in the club the +orchestra had begun to play. He remembered what the Big Boy had said +about DeVoss.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156" role="doc-pagebreak">156</span>“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, “no use causing DeVoss +no trouble. You bulls got about as much regard for a guy as a couple of +hyenas.”</p> + +<p>“You’re long on regard yourself, ain’t you, Rico?” said Flaherty, +laughing.</p> + +<p>Rico nodded to DeVoss and went out. Flaherty and the other detective +followed him. Rico was standing at the curb under the canvas marquee. +They came up to him. He stared at Flaherty.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Flaherty,” he said, “did you ever stop to think how you’d look +with a lily in your hand?”</p> + +<p>“I never did,” said Flaherty, with a sneer. “I been at this game for +twenty-five years and I’ve got better guys than you hung, and I never +got a scratch.”</p> + +<p>Rico took out a cigar and lit it. A taxi drew up at the curb.</p> + +<p>“Well, here’s my wagon,” said Rico, “want to take a ride?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Flaherty, “when we take a ride together I’ll have the cuffs +on you.”</p> + +<p>“No Irish bastard’ll ever put no cuffs on Rico!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157" role="doc-pagebreak">157</span>Flaherty’s face got red, but he turned on his heel and was about +to go when Rico said:</p> + +<p>“And another thing, Flaherty, you was always O.K. with me, see, but now +you ain’t. You ain’t got nothing on me and you ain’t got no business +trailing me every place I go. Take a tip. Sam and me’re getting tired +of seeing you guys climb the stairs. The first floor’s open to anybody, +they even allow cops in there, but the upstairs is private.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Flaherty, who had succeeded in controlling his temper.</p> + +<p>“Yeah. Some day one of you wise dicks is gonna make a one way trip up +them stairs.”</p> + +<p>“Getting up in the world, ain’t you, Rico?” said Flaherty, “maybe you +better run for mayor.”</p> + +<p>Rico slammed the door of the cab. Flaherty turned to the man with him +and said:</p> + +<p>“I’ll get that swell-headed Dago if it’s the last thing I ever do.”</p> +</section> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="part5-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_159" role="doc-pagebreak">159</div> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="part5-hd">PART V</h2> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_161" role="doc-pagebreak">161</div> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THERE were quite a few wise boys in Little Italy who thought that +Rico’s sensational rise was a fluke. The matter was talked about a good +deal and he was unfavorably compared with Nig Po and Monk de Angelo, +former leaders, and there were even those who considered him inferior +to Killer Pepi, Ottavio Vettori, and Joe Sansone. This confusion arose +because Rico was not understood. He had none of the outward signs of +greatness. Neither the great strength and hairiness of Pepi, nor the +dash and effrontery of Ottavio Vettori, nor the maniacal temper of +Joe Sansone. He was small, pale and quiet. In spite of his new finery +he wasn’t much to look at. He did not swagger, he seldom raised his +voice, he never bragged. In other words, the general run of Little +Italians could find nothing in him to exaggerate; they could not make +a legendary figure of him because the qualities he possessed were +qualities they could not comprehend. The only <span class="pagenum" id="Page_162" role="doc-pagebreak">162</span>thing that redeemed +him in their eyes was his reputation as a killer.</p> + +<p>Rico was brave enough, but he did not flaunt his bravery like Kid Bean. +Rico was cunning enough, but cunning was not an obsession with him as +it was with Sam Vettori. Rico was capable of sudden audacity, but even +his audacity had a sort of precision and was entirely without the dash +of Ottavio’s.</p> + +<p>Rico, while he was small and pale, was capable of great endurance, +but this endurance of his was nothing compared to Killer Pepi’s +inhuman vitality. Rico’s great strength lay in his single-mindedness, +his energy and his self-discipline. The Little Italians could not +appreciate qualities so abstract.</p> + +<p>The men that were considered his rivals were really not to be compared +with him. Killer Pepi was strong and courageous, but he was very +erratic and a drug-addict. Ottavio Vettori was daring enough and cool +in a tight place, he could shoot straight and he feared nothing, but +he was light-minded, dissipated his energies on all sorts of follies, +and ran after every woman that looked <span class="pagenum" id="Page_163" role="doc-pagebreak">163</span>at him. Joe Sansone, though +brave enough and dependable when it came to a sudden action, was a +periodic drunkard, and, generally speaking, nervous and unreliable. +Sam Vettori, a good man once, had let his congenital lethargy and his +congenital love of trickery overcome him; he had become petty and had +entirely lost the initiative which, years ago, had put him at the head +of the gang. Now he was not even taken seriously by the men he had once +led, and but for Rico’s authority, he would have sunken into obscurity.</p> + +<p>The case of Sam Vettori was a strange one, without its parallel in gang +annals. In Little Italy there is no such thing as abdication unless it +is accompanied by flight. The old gang leader who is superseded has +two alternatives: flight or death. Sam had escaped both. His growing +inability to make decisions had lost him his power, but it had also +saved his life. Rico did not consider him dangerous. But that was not +all. Rico considered him useful. That saved him from flight. With the +proper guidance, Sam Vettori was an asset to any gang. He was wise and +he knew the ropes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164" role="doc-pagebreak">164</span>Sam was docile; not that his hatred for Rico had abated; but +things were breaking good, money was rolling in, and Sam loved money +above all things. The Vettori gang had never known such prosperity +before. Sam was quick to see where his advantage lay. Rico could be +killed. Scabby, who hated Rico for some fancied slight and who, for +this reason, was faithful to Sam, would have done it. But what would +have been the good of that? Sam knew that he was through as a gang +leader. With Rico dead, there would be a mad scramble for leadership. +Besides, Rico had the devil’s own luck, and Scabby might fail. If he +failed, Scabby’s life and his own wouldn’t be worth a plugged dime. +No, Sam Vettori accepted a somewhat odd situation philosophically and +prospered.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p class="dcap">BLONDY BELLE lolled back in her chair and put her fat hands on the +table. Rico sat opposite her with his hat tilted over his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165" role="doc-pagebreak">165</span>“Well,” said Blondy Belle, “I guess that’s it, ain’t it, Rico?”</p> + +<p>Rico nodded.</p> + +<p>“I told you not to give that bird a chance. He thinks you’re soft.”</p> + +<p>Rico smiled and twisted his diamond ring round and round.</p> + +<p>“He raised the split to fifty percent, and the books were straight.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Blondy, “he couldn’t stand prosperity. Listen, you’re +gonna let him have it, ain’t you?”</p> + +<p>Blondy hated Little Arnie so that she couldn’t sleep at night. She +couldn’t understand Rico’s lenience.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Hell,” said Blondy, “you’re getting soft.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, can that,” said Rico; “you want me to get my neck stretched over a +dirty double-crosser that ain’t worth a good bullet? Listen, I’m gonna +run that bird out of town.”</p> + +<p>Blondy was disgusted. She started to get to her feet, but Rico reached +across the table and pushed her back into her chair.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_166" role="doc-pagebreak">166</span>“Sit down,” he said, “and cut the funny stuff. If you women ain’t +awful! Use your head, that’s what you got it for.”</p> + +<p>Blondy sulked. Across the room the orchestra started up and couples +crowded out into the roped-off dance floor.</p> + +<p>“Don’t they ever get sick of dancing?” said Blondy, in a bad temper.</p> + +<p>Rico got to his feet.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, “get yourself a cab and beat it. Go home and take +some aspirin and hit the hay. If you’d lay off that bad liquor you +wouldn’t always be beefing.”</p> + +<p>Blondy looked at Rico for a moment, then she said:</p> + +<p>“Aw, sit down, Rico. I’ll snap out of it.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico, “I got business to look after and I’m getting sick of +this beefing. See, I’m getting sick. Any more of this kind of stuff and +I’m gonna get me another woman. Hell, I might as well talk to Flaherty +as you.”</p> + +<p>Blondy got to her feet without speaking. Rico never kidded; he meant +what he said. Blondy was <span class="pagenum" id="Page_167" role="doc-pagebreak">167</span>not used to men like Rico. She often +wondered why it was she couldn’t seem to get any hold on him.</p> + +<p>Silently they walked around the little, roped-off dance floor. Rico +told one of the waiters to get him a cab, then, to pass the time, he +started putting nickels in a slot machine. After the third nickel, the +bell rang and Rico won fifty cents; on the sixth nickel he won again.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t that good!” said Rico.</p> + +<p>He called the man behind the counter.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he said, “have you seen anybody fooling with this machine?”</p> + +<p>The man nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” he said, “I seen Ottavio doing something to it.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“Can you beat that petty crook! He’ll be robbing blind men next. Say, +tell Sam to get all the machines overhauled. What the hell! He might as +well hand out nickels over the counter.”</p> + +<p>Blondy laughed, glad of this opportunity to put on a change of front.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168" role="doc-pagebreak">168</span>“Boy, you don’t miss anything,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, serious, “what’s the use of letting somebody gyp +you?”</p> + +<p>The waiter they had sent for the cab came to tell them that it was +outside.</p> + +<p>Blondy put her hand on Rico’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Listen, wise boy,” she said, “you got the right dope about that Little +Arnie business. Run him out, that’s O.K., but do it up brown.”</p> + +<p>“You watch,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>He put her in the cab.</p> + +<p>“Gonna give me a ring tonight, Rico?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Can’t say.”</p> + +<p>“Well, don’t let me ketch you with any more dark hairs on your coat.”</p> + +<p>“Can that!” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Blondy slammed the cab door. Rico stood and watched the cab till it +disappeared. Blondy was just like any other woman. Now she had got +to the grand rush stage. Always beefing about something. Rico stood +looking down the street. It was hot and the city sweltered, but now and +then you <span class="pagenum" id="Page_169" role="doc-pagebreak">169</span>could feel a breath of lake wind. He looked up at the +sky. Stars everywhere.</p> + +<p>“It’s a swell night,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Contrary to custom, he decided to walk down to the news-stand and get +a paper. Since his rise, he seldom went out unaccompanied; never at +night. Otero, Killer Pepi and Bat Carillo had constituted themselves +his body-guard and one of them was always within calling distance. +They were jealous of this privilege and sometimes quarreled among +themselves. But the night tempted Rico; the atmosphere of The Palermo +was vile, and the lake breeze was fresh and cool.</p> + +<p>He had gone scarcely half a block when a large touring-car with the +curtains closed passed him. He saw the car, noticing especially the +closed curtains and the fact that the driver was hugging the curb, +and, fearing the worst, he looked about for a shelter, but, as the car +passed him and went on, he paid no further attention to it. Stopping in +front of a lighted drugstore window he took out his watch and looked at +it. One o’clock! Kid Bean and the Killer ought to be back any minute +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170" role="doc-pagebreak">170</span>now. Suddenly he looked up. The big touring car had turned and was +coming back at full speed with its exhaust roaring. Rico cursed himself +for his carelessness and reached under his armpit for his gun. But the +car was abreast of him now and three guns blazed. Rico felt a searing +pain in his shoulder and fell to the ground. His gun was stuck in its +holster and he couldn’t get it out. One of the men leaned out of the +car and emptied his gun at Rico, who, helpless on the ground, heard the +bullets sing.</p> + +<p>“A goddam fine shot you are!” said Rico.</p> + +<p>The big touring-car turned a corner and disappeared. Rico got to his +feet and walked into the drugstore. The screen-door banged behind +him and the clerk, who had been lying down behind the counter, got +unsteadily to his feet.</p> + +<p>“My God,” he stammered, “what was all the popping for?”</p> + +<p>Then he noticed that there was a torn place on the shoulder of Rico’s +coat.</p> + +<p>“Was they after you, mister?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “I got brushed. Give me a roll of bandages.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171" role="doc-pagebreak">171</span>The clerk stood there with his mouth open. People began to come +into the store. Some of them knew who Rico was and stood staring at him.</p> + +<p>“They put a bullet through my window,” said the clerk.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Rico, “go get me a package of bandages.”</p> + +<p>The clerk finally came to himself and went for the bandages. A crowd +had gathered in the street and now there were so many people in the +drugstore that the people on the outside couldn’t get in. Rico stood +with his back to the counter, watching. Blood had begun to drip from +his coat-sleeve. Before the clerk returned with the bandages, Jastrow, +the famous Little Italy cop, pushed his way through the crowd, followed +almost immediately by Joe Massara.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Jastrow, “somebody finally put one in you, did they, Rico?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Joe Massara came over and put his hand on Rico’s arm. Joe’s face was +white.</p> + +<p>“Hurt you much, boss?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172" role="doc-pagebreak">172</span>“No,” said Rico; “what the hell you doing way over here?”</p> + +<p>“I got tipped off,” said Joe. “I couldn’t get you on the phone and I +began to get nervous. We’d’ve made it only my cab driver got hooked for +speeding.”</p> + +<p>“Who gave you the tip?” Jastrow demanded.</p> + +<p>“Go press the bricks,” said Rico, “this ain’t your funeral.”</p> + +<p>Jastrow laughed.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “don’t you know that the Old Man’s taken an awful +interest in you?”</p> + +<p>“Well, tell him the cops couldn’t get me no other way so they hired a +couple of gunmen.”</p> + +<p>Joe laughed. Jastrow laughed also and taking out his notebook began to +write in it. The clerk came with the bandages. Joe took them from him +and paid him. Before they could get started, Killer Pepi and Otero came +shoving their way through the crowd.</p> + +<p>“Hello, boys,” said Jastrow, looking up from his little book, “your +boss got nudged by a hunk of lead.”</p> + +<p>“So they tell me,” said the Killer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173" role="doc-pagebreak">173</span>Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Let’s get the hell out of here.”</p> + +<p>Jastrow went in front, clearing the way, followed by Otero and Killer +Pepi, who had Rico between them. Joe brought up the rear. People were +lined to the car-tracks; lights blazed in all the houses along the +street, and men hung from the lamp-posts. When they came out of the +store, the crowd was so thick that they were unable to get any farther. +Jastrow took out his nightstick and flourished it, but the sight of it +was enough, the crowd made a path.</p> + +<p>As they walked along Joe came up close to Rico and whispered:</p> + +<p>“Little Arnie.”</p> + +<p>Rico nodded. Pepi heard Joe.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he said, “and I’m gonna plug him tonight.”</p> + +<p>“There won’t be no plugging,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Aw, hell,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>Otero was excited.</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, Rico,” he cried.</p> + +<p>“Shut up, you birds,” said Rico; “who the hell’s running this show?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174" role="doc-pagebreak">174</span>A crowd was waiting for them in front of The Palermo. Bat Carillo +and Ottavio Vettori began to yell as soon as they saw that Rico was on +his feet.</p> + +<p>Jastrow turned around.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess I done my duty.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico, “come in and have a drink.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing doing,” said Jastrow, then he shouted: “You birds quit your +damn yelling and get in off the sidewalk.”</p> + +<p>Everybody laughed. They all liked Jastrow, who had the reputation +of being on the square. Rico went in escorted by a mob of Little +Italians. In the club people were standing on the tables; the orchestra +was playing loudly; and Sam Vettori, in the middle of the deserted +dance-floor, was waving his arms wildly and bellowing.</p> + +<p>When they saw Rico there was a tumult.</p> + +<p>“Rico! Rico! Rico!”</p> + +<p>Killer Pepi and Otero, intoxicated by the excitement, grabbed each +other and began to dance. Joe waved the bandages. Rico took off his hat +and smiled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_175" role="doc-pagebreak">175</span>On the way up the stairs Rico turned to Joe and said:</p> + +<p>“Go get The Sheeny.”</p> + +<p>Killer Pepi took Rico by the arm.</p> + +<p>“He’s upstairs now, boss,” he said; “the Kid got plugged.”</p> + +<p>“How’d you make out?” Rico inquired.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Killer Pepi; “we was making a get-away on the third stand +when one of the guys plugged the Kid. He ain’t hurt much. Just skinned +him.”</p> + +<p>Killer Pepi and Kid Bean had robbed twenty-five filling-stations in the +last two weeks.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “you guys have been on the up and up. Split the +money two ways.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the talk, boss,” said the Killer.</p> + +<p>Otero knocked at the door. Joe Sansone’s face appeared at the grating, +then the door swung open.</p> + +<p>The Sheeny was working on Kid Bean. The Kid was lying on the card +table, smoking a cigarette. His shirt was off and there was a smear of +blood on his hairy chest. When he saw Rico he said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176" role="doc-pagebreak">176</span>“They damn near hit the target, boss.”</p> + +<p>He pointed to a pierced heart tattooed on his chest. He was as proud of +his tattooing as a Maori chief.</p> + +<p>“The boss got plugged,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>“What!” yelled the Kid, sitting up; “go fix him up, Sheeny.”</p> + +<p>He gave The Sheeny a push. But Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Finish up the Kid first. I can wait.”</p> + +<p>“Only jist got to bandage him yet,” said The Sheeny with his +ingratiating smile.</p> + +<p>The Sheeny was a graduate doctor, but he had been sent up for an +illegal operation and his license had been revoked. He said his name +was Lazarro, but nobody believed him and everybody referred to him +simply as The Sheeny.</p> + +<p>Rico took off his coat and shirt, and sat waiting. His wound had +stopped bleeding.</p> + +<p>Joe Massara came over and stood by his chair. Joe’s big cut for an +inside job had pulled him back to the fold. He never talked any +more about quitting the racket. The Courtney affair had blown over +apparently, and he had regained his confidence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177" role="doc-pagebreak">177</span>“Joe,” said Rico, “how come they gave you the tip?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Joe, “I ain’t sure, but I think it was an outsider that +didn’t know nobody but me. He sure had the dope all right. He said the +guys were gonna park at twelve. They didn’t expect you out till two or +three.”</p> + +<p>“A fine bunch of gunmen Arnie picked!”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>The Kid climbed off the table and stood feeling his chest.</p> + +<p>“Boy, I thought I was plugged for sure.”</p> + +<p>“They just bounce off of you,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>The Sheeny began to bathe Rico’s wound.</p> + +<p>“’Tain’t much,” he said, “but it pays to be careful.”</p> + +<p>When The Sheeny had got Rico bandaged, Rico put on his shirt and sat +smoking. Bat Carillo and Ottavio Vettori, whom he had sent for, came in +and sat down beside him. The Sheeny put on his hat.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, smiling at Rico, “I guess I’m done. If you guys have +any trouble with them wounds let me know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178" role="doc-pagebreak">178</span>Rico got his billfold and gave The Sheeny a fifty.</p> + +<p>“Thank you! Thank you!” said The Sheeny, bowing.</p> + +<p>Joe Sansone let him out.</p> + +<p>Rico said:</p> + +<p>“Now, listen, you birds, tonight’s the big clean-up. If these guys want +trouble, why, that’s just what we’re looking for.”</p> + +<p>“You bet,” said Killer Pepi.</p> + +<p>“Now,” Rico went on, “I got things fixed with Joe Peeper and I’m gonna +to give Little Arnie the grand rush right away. I want Killer Pepi and +Otero and Ottavio to go with me.”</p> + +<p>“How about me?” demanded Joe Sansone.</p> + +<p>“You too, Joe. And you, Bat, I want you to take your gang and smash up +Jew Mike’s. Run everybody out and then smash the place. If Little Arnie +wants trouble, why that’s what we got the most of. Got it?”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Bat, “how about the rods?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t use ’em,” said Rico; “Jew Mike’s yellow and he won’t put up no +fight.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179" role="doc-pagebreak">179</span>“Them guys of mine sure are hard to hold on to,” said Carillo, +grinning.</p> + +<p>“That’s your job,” said Rico. “We got to watch this plugging stuff with +Flaherty on our trail.”</p> + +<p>“O.K., boss,” said Carillo.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p class="dcap">WHEN the doorman saw Rico get out of the automobile he stood stunned, +then, pulling himself together, he made an attempt to run. But Pepi +crossed the pavement in two strides, grabbed him by the collar and +pushed him ahead of him up the stairs.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Handsome,” said Pepi, “you tell the look-out we’re O.K. or +they’ll bury you.”</p> + +<p>At the head of the stairs the doorman spoke to the look-out through the +shutter.</p> + +<p>“These birds are all right,” he said.</p> + +<p>The look-out opened the door and Pepi shoved a gun against him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180" role="doc-pagebreak">180</span>“Turn your back, Buddy,” said Pepi, “and march straight ahead of +me.”</p> + +<p>Rico, followed by Joe Sansone, Ottavio Vettori, and Otero, climbed the +long flight of stairs and entered the lobby. The lobby was deserted +except for two or three couples. Beyond it, through a big arched +doorway, they could see the crowded roulette wheels. Rico caught up +with Pepi and said to the doorman:</p> + +<p>“Where’s Joe Peeper?”</p> + +<p>The doorman had an agonized look. He was sure they were going to kill +him. He just stood there, unable to force himself to speak.</p> + +<p>“Say,” said Pepi, “speak up.”</p> + +<p>The doorman pointed to a door.</p> + +<p>“He’s in with the boss, is he?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>The doorman nodded.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the look-out, eager to get in good, “Joe’s in there with +the boss and a couple of other guys.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “now, Pepi, if the door’s locked, do your +stuff.”</p> + +<p>Pepi could force the heaviest door with his shoulder.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181" role="doc-pagebreak">181</span>Joe Sansone tried the door; it was locked.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Rico, “Pepi’ll force the door. You cover him, Joe, in case +somebody in there gets nervous and pulls a gat. I’ll follow you. Otero, +you stay out here and don’t let nobody in. You watch this pair of hard +guys here, Ottavio.” Rico jerked his thumb toward the look-out and the +doorman.</p> + +<p>“You don’t have to watch us,” said the doorman.</p> + +<p>They all laughed.</p> + +<p>“All right, Pepi,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Pepi hunched his shoulders and flung himself against the door. It +opened with a crash. They saw four startled men rise half way out of +their chairs and stand staring. Joe Peeper cried:</p> + +<p>“It’s Rico!”</p> + +<p>Pepi was on his hands and knees in the middle of the room, but Joe +Sansone stepped in behind him and covered the four men with his big +automatic. Rico came in, took off his hat and bowed.</p> + +<p>“Hello, Arnie,” he said; “how’s business?”</p> + +<p>Little Arnie sat with his mouth slightly open. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_182" role="doc-pagebreak">182</span>As a rule Little +Arnie was imperturbable. He hid an excess of both cunning and timidity +behind a cold, repellent, sallow Jewish mask. But this cyclonic entry +was too much for him. His mask had slipped, revealing a pale, terrified +countenance.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “what’s the game?”</p> + +<p>Joe Peeper, who was in Rico’s pay, said:</p> + +<p>“Pull up a chair, you guys.”</p> + +<p>Pepi found two chairs. Joe Sansone and Rico sat down; Pepi stood behind +Rico’s chair.</p> + +<p>Little Arnie turned to the two men sitting beside him. They were +strangers to Rico and they looked tough.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what this is all about,” said Arnie, “but it’s a private +row, so you guys better beat it.”</p> + +<p>Rico said very quietly:</p> + +<p>“Nobody’s gonna leave this room.”</p> + +<p>One of the toughs shouted:</p> + +<p>“Think not, wop! Well, who the hell’s gonna stop us.”</p> + +<p>Before Rico could reply, Joe Sansone said:</p> + +<p>“Me, I’m gonna stop you, see! And I ain’t <span class="pagenum" id="Page_183" role="doc-pagebreak">183</span>gentle. I’m just itching +to put some lead in a couple of hard guys.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, smiling, “you guys are invited to this private +party.”</p> + +<p>The two men looked at Arnie, who sat tapping his desk with a pencil.</p> + +<p>“Say,” said one, “you sure got a fine bunch of friends, Arnie.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Arnie.</p> + +<p>Pepi laughed and said:</p> + +<p>“Yeah, he sure has. Arnie, you ought to had better sense than to get a +couple of outside yaps to bump Rico off.”</p> + +<p>Nobody said anything. Arnie took out a cigar and lit it. The two +strangers sat staring at Rico. Pepi sat staring at them. Finally he +asked:</p> + +<p>“Where you guys from?”</p> + +<p>The men looked uneasily at Arnie. Little by little they were losing +their nerve.</p> + +<p>“Speak up,” said Pepi, “where you guys from?”</p> + +<p>“We’re from Detroit,” said one of the men.</p> + +<p>“Where the hell’s that?” Joe Sansone inquired. “I never heard of it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184" role="doc-pagebreak">184</span>“Say,” said Pepi, “don’t you know that tough guys like you +oughtn’t to be running around loose. No sir. You’re liable to get +arrested for firing a rod in the city limits.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said one of the men from Detroit, “what you guys got against +us? We ain’t done nothing. We just got in.”</p> + +<p>They were thoroughly intimidated.</p> + +<p>Arnie, who had recovered his poise, said:</p> + +<p>“Well, Rico, what’s the talk? Let’s have it.”</p> + +<p>Pepi and Joe Sansone both started to talk at once, but Rico motioned +for them to be quiet.</p> + +<p>“Arnie,” said Rico, “you’re through. If you ain’t out of town by +tomorrow morning, you won’t never leave town except in a box.”</p> + +<p>Arnie said nothing but sat staring at the smoke rising from his cigar.</p> + +<p>“In the first place,” Rico went on, “you been double-crossing me for +two months. In the second place you hire these bums here to pop me. Now +I guess that’s about all.”</p> + +<p>Arnie laughed.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “somebody has sure been <span class="pagenum" id="Page_185" role="doc-pagebreak">185</span>stringing you. Why, you +ought to know I wouldn’t double-cross you. Hell, that wouldn’t help me +none.”</p> + +<p>“Can that,” said Rico. “Your number’s up, Jew. Take it like a man.”</p> + +<p>Arnie’s face got red.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Rico, if you think you can muscle into this joint you’re off +your nut.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Joe,” said Rico, jerking his head in Joe Peeper’s +direction, “spill it.”</p> + +<p>Joe Peeper looked sideways at Arnie.</p> + +<p>“The books’re crooked, Rico,” said Joe Peeper; “he’s been gypping you +out of half your split every week.”</p> + +<p>The Detroit toughs began to shift about uneasily.</p> + +<p>“Well, you two-timing bastard,” said Arnie.</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“Arnie,” he said, “that’s that. Here’s the dope. You get your hat and +beat it. Leave the burg. If I ever hear about you being in town again, +why, I’m gonna turn the Killer loose on you.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Pepi, “and I never did like kikes.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186" role="doc-pagebreak">186</span>“I ain’t any too fond of them, myself,” said Joe Sansone.</p> + +<p>Arnie meditated. Rico said:</p> + +<p>“I been square with you, Arnie, but you couldn’t stand prosperity, +that’s all. So take it standing up.”</p> + +<p>“What the hell else can he do?” Pepi demanded.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what I can do,” said Arnie, “I can have a talk with Mr. +Flaherty.”</p> + +<p>Arnie studied Rico carefully to see what effect this would have. But +Rico merely smiled at him.</p> + +<p>“Getting pretty low, Arnie,” he said, “when you take the bulls in with +you.” Then he paused and leaned forward in his chair. “If you go to see +Mr. Flaherty you better have an alibi because he might ask you about +Limpy John.”</p> + +<p>Arnie dropped his cigar and sat staring into space, his hands lying +palms up on the table.</p> + +<p>“All over but the shouting,” said Joe Sansone, “somebody better throw +in a towel. But I don’t suppose the dirty bums in Detroit ever heard of +towels.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187" role="doc-pagebreak">187</span>“Aw, lay off of us,” said one of the Detroit toughs.</p> + +<p>Joe Sansone stared at him.</p> + +<p>“Say, Gyp-the-Blood, I bet they think you’re a pretty hard bird where +you live, don’t they?”</p> + +<p>Arnie turned to Joe Peeper.</p> + +<p>“Well, Joe,” he said, “you sure put the skids under me.”</p> + +<p>“Sure I did,” said Joe Peeper; “you thought you could bat me around and +make me like it.”</p> + +<p>Pepi laughed.</p> + +<p>“Arnie,” he said, “you better go back to Detroit with your boy friends.”</p> + +<p>When Rico and his men left Arnie’s joint Joe Peeper followed them. As +soon as they reached the pavement, Joe walked up to Rico and said:</p> + +<p>“You sore at me, Rico?”</p> + +<p>All Rico’s men stopped and stood staring at Joe, wondering what his +game was.</p> + +<p>“You guys get in the car,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>They all got in except Pepi, who stood with his back against the car, +his right hand in his pocket. Pepi didn’t trust anybody who had ever +been mixed up with Little Arnie.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188" role="doc-pagebreak">188</span>“What’s on your mind, Joe?” Rico demanded.</p> + +<p>“I thought you acted like you was sore at me,” said Joe Peeper; “honest +to God, Rico, I didn’t know nothing about them Detroit bums. I didn’t +know what Arnie was up to. Lord, you know I wouldn’t double-cross you +after all you done for me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, who said you did?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody,” said Joe, “only it looked funny, and I thought maybe you guys +had got a wrong notion. I’d be a sap to pull anything like that.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“Forget it,” he said.</p> + +<p>Rico started to get into the automobile, but Joe took hold of his arm.</p> + +<p>“How about me, Rico?” he said. “If I stick around here they’ll bump me +off sure.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico; “say, them guys wouldn’t bump nobody off now. But +get in. I can use you, Joe.”</p> + +<p>Joe got in the back seat with Otero and Ottavio Vettori. He talked to +them all the way back to The Palermo, trying to get in good with them, +but they said nothing.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_189" role="doc-pagebreak">189</div> +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THE next day in the society column of one of the Chicago papers there +appeared a small item, which read:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>“Mr. Arnold Worch, of the North Side, has just left for Detroit where +he intends to spend the summer. He was accompanied by two of his +Detroit friends, who have been in Chicago for a short stay.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>This was the work of Ottavio Vettori. The underworld was convulsed +and thousands of extra copies of the paper were sold. The clipping +was to be found pasted up in all the barrooms, gambling joints, and +dance-halls. Rico and Ottavio Vettori had become famous over night.</p> + +<p>Little Arnie wasn’t the only one who left town. Several of Little +Arnie’s henchmen, who had been closely connected with the attempted +killing, followed him into exile. Joseph Pavlovsky, the doorman, who +had driven the car, went to Hammond, where, on the money Arnie had +given him, he opened a speak-easy. Pippy Coke, who <span class="pagenum" id="Page_190" role="doc-pagebreak">190</span>with the two +Detroit gunmen had done the shooting, went with Pavlovsky, and they +were followed by two croupiers, who had shadowed Rico.</p> + +<p>Arnie’s gang was smashed and the Little Italians took over a territory +they hadn’t controlled since the days of Monk De Angelo.</p> + +<p>Arnie had come to Chicago from New York about five years ago. His +reputation had got so bad in New York that no one would do business +with him. He came west with a small stake and was lucky enough to +arrive at just the right time. Kips Berger, also formerly of New York +and once one of Arnie’s pals, had gone broke and was willing to sell +out his big gambling joint for practically nothing. Arnie bought it +and prospered. This gambling joint was in a neutral zone, touching +Little Italy on the south and the vast territory that Pete Montana +controlled on the north. Arnie was acute enough to see his advantage. +He worked hard at his job and in a little while had consolidated his +territory. But he was not a good gang chief: first, because he was +a coward, second, because his closest associate couldn’t trust him, +third, because he was inclined <span class="pagenum" id="Page_191" role="doc-pagebreak">191</span>to lose his head in an emergency. +His lieutenant, Jew Mike, was a tougher and more violent replica of +his chief. Between them they bossed the territory, but under them the +gang never prospered and their hold was at best precarious. They held +on only because there was little or no opposition. Their gangsters were +a poor lot and were content to take small splits. On the south, Sam +Vettori was slipping and his lethargy prevented him interfering; on the +north the great Pete Montana was magnificently indifferent.</p> + +<p>Arnie had been slipping for the last year or so, and Rico’s sudden +rise had accelerated his decline. Arnie, fearing the worst, committed +blunder after blunder; first, he made advances to Rico, then, getting +Rico’s protection for a thirty percent split, things looked too easy +and he began to double-cross him. Lastly, although he should have known +better, he made the tactical error of trying to get Rico killed. If he +had succeeded his position would not have been improved; he would have +been worse off, because the Vettori gang would have made short work of +him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192" role="doc-pagebreak">192</span>No one regretted the passing of Little Arnie. He had never been +straight with anybody. No one could depend on him and he had none of +the qualities that go to make up a good gang chief. The wonder is that +he lasted as long as he did.</p> + +<p>Arnie’s fall was the signal for a series of minor tumbles. Jew Mike, +whose joint Bat Carillo and his gang had demolished, fled to the South +Side, where he opened a couple of vice-joints. Kid Burg moved to +Cicero, and Squint Maschke, after a short exile, offered his services +to Rico, who gave him twenty-four hours to make a second disappearance. +With the fall of Arnie’s three lieutenants, the last vestiges of his +rule vanished.</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p class="dcap">OTERO helped Rico out of his coat, then, while Rico doused his face at +the wash stand, he sat down, tipped back his chair and rolled himself a +cigarette.</p> + +<p>“You better lay down, Rico, and get some rest,” said Otero; “you ain’t +looking so good.”</p> + +<p>“I’m O.K.,” said Rico.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_193" role="doc-pagebreak">193</span>But this was bravado. He had slept only four hours in the last two +days; his face was pale and drawn and he suffered from an intermittent +fever. His wound, though a slight one, was not healing properly, and +The Sheeny had warned him that he had better take it easy. Inactivity +at any time was abhorrent to Rico; now it was impossible. His big +chance had come. Nothing could stop him now but a hunk of lead in the +right spot.</p> + +<p>Rico, a little unsteady on his legs, stood staring at Otero.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure making yourself at home,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Otero, “I think I stay.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“Listen, I don’t need no nurse. Beat it.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Otero, tossing away his cigarette and starting to roll +another one, “I think I stay.”</p> + +<p>Rico walked over to the bed and stood staring at it. If he had been +alone he would have flopped down and been asleep in an instant.</p> + +<p>“Think I’ll catch a little sleep,” he said; “you beat it, Otero.”</p> + +<p>Otero didn’t say anything. He finished rolling <span class="pagenum" id="Page_194" role="doc-pagebreak">194</span>his cigarette, lit +it, and tipped his hat down over his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Goddam it,” cried Rico, “beat it! I’m sick of you trailing me like a +Chicago Avenue bull. I ain’t gonna drop in my tracks.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Otero, “you lay down. I finish my cigarette.”</p> + +<p>Rico threw himself on the bed, fully dressed except for his coat. He +put his hands under his head and tried to keep awake by staring at the +ceiling. But in a moment he was asleep.</p> + +<p>Otero sat looking at his chief. All along he’d known. Rico was a great +man like Pancho Villa. Even in Toledo when he and Rico were sticking up +filling-stations, he knew. A little, skinny young fellow with a little +mustache, sure, that’s what everybody saw. But everybody didn’t have +the eyes of Otero.</p> + +<p>Otero flung his second cigarette on the floor and rolled another one. +Rico turned from side to side in his sleep and mumbled. His face was +white and drawn. Otero got to his feet and went over to look at him. +No, Rico was not well. Otero put his hand on Rico’s forehead. Fever! He +stood <span class="pagenum" id="Page_195" role="doc-pagebreak">195</span>looking down at his chief, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>“Like hell!” cried Rico; “you can’t hand Rico none of that bunk. No +Irish bastard’ll ever put no cuffs on Rico.”</p> + +<p>Otero went back to his chair and sat dozing under his big hat, while +Rico tossed from side to side and talked.</p> + +<p>Someone knocked at the door. Otero was slow in opening his eyes, but +Rico sat up, stared for a moment, then jumped out of bed and got his +automatic.</p> + +<p>“Go see who it is,” he said to Otero; “don’t open the door. Ask them.”</p> + +<p>Otero went over to the door and called:</p> + +<p>“Who’s there?”</p> + +<p>There was a short silence, then a voice with a marked Italian accent +said:</p> + +<p>“A couple of right guys. We want to see Rico.”</p> + +<p>Otero turned and looked at Rico, who came over to the door.</p> + +<p>“Listen, you right guys,” said Rico, “I’ll give you a one-two-three to +get out of that hall and then I’m gonna start pumping lead. Got it?”</p> + +<p>There was a pause.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196" role="doc-pagebreak">196</span>“Rico,” said another voice, a deeper voice with no trace of an +accent, “you don’t know me, but I’m Pete Montana and I want to talk +turkey.”</p> + +<p>Otero and Rico exchanged a stupefied look.</p> + +<p>“Pete,” said Rico, “do you know the Big Boy?”</p> + +<p>“Sure.”</p> + +<p>“What’s his name in full?”</p> + +<p>“James Michael O’Doul.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Otero,” said Rico, “let ’em in.”</p> + +<p>Otero unbarred the door. Rico, with his gun still leveled, stood a +little behind the door, watching.</p> + +<p>Pete Montana, followed by Ritz Colonna, his lieutenant, came +in. Montana, in private life Pietro Fontano, was a big, solemn, +respectable-looking Italian. He was dressed very quietly, wore no +jewelry, and carried a cane. Colonna, once a ham prize-fighter, was a +small, bull-necked man with a battered, dark face. His clothes were +shabby and he wore an old cap on the side of his head.</p> + +<p>Montana and Rico stood measuring each other. Rico looked small and +frail beside the robust Montana, but Rico wasn’t impressed, for Montana +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197" role="doc-pagebreak">197</span>looked fat and puffy, like Sam Vettori. Otero barred the door.</p> + +<p>“Get a couple of chairs, Otero,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Otero dragged up the only two chairs in the room and Montana and +Colonna sat down. Otero squatted on his heels with his back to the wall +and Rico sat on the bed.</p> + +<p>Montana took out a monogrammed cigar-case and passed it around, then he +selected one of the cigars himself and cut off the end with a little +gold cutter on his watch chain.</p> + +<p>“Mopping up, ain’t you, Rico?” asked Montana, who kept his eyes lowered.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “Arnie was double-crossing me.”</p> + +<p>“He wasn’t no good,” said Colonna; “I was just aching to bump that bird +off.”</p> + +<p>Montana motioned for him to be quiet.</p> + +<p>“They slung some lead, didn’t they, Rico?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah, and I stopped some of it. Nothing to shout about.”</p> + +<p>“If he’d’ve got you, his number was up,” said Montana, “you know, I +been watching you ever since you muscled in on Sam Vettori.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198" role="doc-pagebreak">198</span>“Yeah?”</p> + +<p>“Sure thing. We been taking an interest in you, ain’t we, Ritz?”</p> + +<p>Ritz grinned.</p> + +<p>“That’s the word,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Montana, “you’re on the up and up with us.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “that’s O.K. with me.”</p> + +<p>Montana looked up at Rico suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Any guy that can muscle in on Sam Vettori and Little Arnie is on the +up and up with me. The Big Boy’s with me there.”</p> + +<p>Rico smoked and said nothing. But he wondered what the game was. Was +Pete Montana getting soft like Sam Vettori? Could it be possible that +the great Pete Montana was turning sap? All this palaver and softie +talk. Rico’s head began to buzz.</p> + +<p>“Look,” said Montana, “I used to work Arnie’s territory myself, but it +slowed down, you know what I mean. It wasn’t worth nothing when Kips +Berger had it, and after Arnie got it I didn’t pay no attention. I got +all I can handle, ain’t I, Ritz?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199" role="doc-pagebreak">199</span>“That’s the word,” said Ritz.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Montana, “by rights that territory’s mine, get the idea? +I could get all the protection I wanted, but I don’t muscle in on no +right guy, see? Kiketown’s yours, Rico.”</p> + +<p>“Much obliged,” said Rico; “I ain’t looking for no trouble with you, +Pete.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the talk,” said Montana; then he turned to Ritz: “see, Ritz, +you had the wrong steer.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah, I had the wrong steer,” said Ritz.</p> + +<p>Montana turned back to Rico.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he said, “some wise guys was giving Ritz a lot of bull. Ritz +said you was trying to muscle in on my territory.”</p> + +<p>Rico thought he was dreaming. So this was the great Pete Montana. A guy +that couldn’t turn over in bed without getting plastered all over the +front page. All that softie stuff was a front. Pete Montana was scared.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico, “them guys don’t know what they’re talking about.”</p> + +<p>Montana smiled blandly.</p> + +<p>“Maybe we can team up on a job or two, Rico. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_200" role="doc-pagebreak">200</span>I like your work. The +Big Boy’s no fool and he thinks you’re the goods. Yeah, maybe we can +team up, but I ain’t making no promises. Only this. I ain’t looking for +no split on Arnie’s lay-out. She’s yours.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t forget the hide-out, chief,” said Ritz.</p> + +<p>Montana smiled again.</p> + +<p>“By God, I sure enough did forget it. Yeah, Rico, some of Ritz’s boys +has got a hide-out a half a block from Arnie’s joint. That’s O.K., +ain’t it?”</p> + +<p>Rico’s manner changed. He lost his affability and his face became +serious.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “as long as there ain’t no cutting in. I won’t stand +for no cutting in.”</p> + +<p>Montana looked at Ritz. Ritz said:</p> + +<p>“Hell, there won’t be no cutting in.”</p> + +<p>“What do you say, Pete?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>Montana meditated, pulling at one of his thick lips. Otero sat watching +Rico. Caramba! Here was little Rico telling the big Pete Montana where +to get off. Otero never took his eyes off Rico’s face.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Montana, “they’re my men and <span class="pagenum" id="Page_201" role="doc-pagebreak">201</span>I’m behind them. If +there’s any cutting in, why, I’ll settle with you, Rico. Christ, no use +for us to fight over a little thing like that. Anyway, if we get along, +I’ll put you in on the alcohol racket.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “you and me can do business, Pete.”</p> + +<p>Montana got up and offered Rico his hand. They pumped arms briefly. +Then Pete said:</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess we’ll saunter. But let me give you a tip, Rico. You’re +getting too much notice, get the idea? You got the bulls watching you. +I know a new guy has always got to expect that, but take it easy for a +while. They’ll go to sleep; they always do.”</p> + +<p>Rico admired Montana’s shiftiness, but he wasn’t fooled. Pete was +trying to tie him up, make him leery.</p> + +<p>“Much obliged,” said Rico; “a new guy has got a lot to learn.”</p> + +<p>Montana smiled blandly, certain he had scored.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Montana, “so long. Maybe I’ll drop down to your new joint +and give it the once over some night.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “just let me know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202" role="doc-pagebreak">202</span>Otero unbarred the door. Montana started out; Ritz offered his +hand to Rico, then followed his chief. Otero barred the door.</p> + +<p>Rico stood in the middle of the room, staring into space. Otero said:</p> + +<p>“He ain’t so much.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed out loud.</p> + +<p>“Otero,” he cried, “you said a mouthful.”</p> +</section> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="part6-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_203" role="doc-pagebreak">203</div> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="part6-hd">PART VI</h2> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_205" role="doc-pagebreak">205</div> +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dcap">RICO felt small and unimportant in the Big Boy’s apartment. He was +intensely self-centered and as a rule surroundings made no impression +on him. But he had never seen anything like this before. He sat in the +big, panelled dining-room, eating cautiously, dropping his fork from +nervousness, and looking furtively about him. From time to time he +pulled at his high, stiff collar, and when he caught the Big Boy’s eye +he grinned.</p> + +<p>Joe Sansone had dressed him so that he would look presentable. It +had taken a good deal of management and tact, but Joe Sansone was a +stickler for clothes and persevered with Rico, who swore at him at +first and wouldn’t listen.</p> + +<p>“Look, boss,” he said, “you’re getting up in the world. Ain’t none +of us ever been asked to eat with the Big Boy at his dump. Hear what +I’m telling you. Nobody’s ever crashed the gates <span class="pagenum" id="Page_206" role="doc-pagebreak">206</span>before but Pete +Montana. See what I mean? You don’t want the Big Boy to think you ain’t +got no class.”</p> + +<p>Joe had his own dress suit cleaned and pressed, and punctually at five +he presented himself at Rico’s door with the outfit under his arm. Rico +had resisted from the beginning; first, he balked at the suspenders, +then the starched shirt. Joe, laboring with the studs, the buttoned +shoes, the invincible collar, cursed and sweated. Rico resisted. But +Joe won.</p> + +<p>As Joe was ten pounds heavier than Rico, the dress suit was not +precisely a perfect fit, but as Joe said “men are wearing their clothes +a lot looser now.” To which Rico sardonically replied: “Yeah? Say, they +rig you up better than this in stir.”</p> + +<p>Finally Joe got Rico into his harness. Rico stamped about declaring +that he’d be goddamned if he’d go out looking like that. Why, the Big +Boy would think he was off his nut.</p> + +<p>“You look fine, boss,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “all I need is a napkin over my arm.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207" role="doc-pagebreak">207</span>But Joe moved Rico’s bureau out from its corner and tipped the +mirror so Rico could get a full length view of himself. He was won +over immediately. Why, honest to God, he looked like one of them rich +clubmen he read about in the magazines. The enormous white shirtfront, +the black silk coat lapels, the neatly-tied white tie dazzled him.</p> + +<p>“I guess I don’t look so bad,” he said to Joe; “we got plenty of time, +let’s go down to Sam’s place for a while.”</p> + +<p>Rico played with his dessert and looked about the room. The Big Boy +ate with gusto, smacking his lips. The magnificence of the Big Boy’s +apartment crushed Rico. He stared at the big pictures of old time guys +in their gold frames; at the silver and glass ware on the serving +table; at the high, carved chairs. Lord, why, it was like a hop dream.</p> + +<p>He shook his head slowly.</p> + +<p>“Some dump you got here,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, glancing negligently about him, “and I sure +paid for it. See that picture over there?” He pointed to an imitation +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208" role="doc-pagebreak">208</span><span class="corr" id="corr208" title="Source: Valesquez">Velázquez</span>. “That baby set me back one hundred and fifty berries.”</p> + +<p>Rico stared.</p> + +<p>“Jesus, one hundred and fifty berries for a picture!”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, “but that ain’t nothing. See that bunch of +junk over there?” He jerked his head in the direction of the serving +table. “That stuff set me back one grand.”</p> + +<p>Rico stared.</p> + +<p>“One grand for that stuff?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said the Big Boy, “that’s the real thing. Only what the hell, +I say! A plate’s to eat off of, ain’t it? What’s the odds what it’s +made of? But I got a spell about two years ago. I had a pot full of +money and I thought, well, other guys that ain’t got as much dough as +I got put on a front, so why shouldn’t I? Sure, I could buy and sell +guys that’s got three homes and a couple of chugwagons. So I got a guy +down at a big store, you know, one of them decorators, to pick me out a +swell apartment and fix it up A-1. So he did. I got a library too and +a lot of other stuff that ain’t worth a damn. I was talking to a rich +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209" role="doc-pagebreak">209</span>guy the other day and he said I was a damn fool to buy real books +because he had a library twice as big as mine and dummy books. What the +hell! If a guy’s gonna have a library, why, I say do it right. So there +you are. I got so damn many books it gives me a headache just to look +at ’em through the glass. Shakespeare and all that stuff.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico, stupefied.</p> + +<p>A servant took away their dessert and brought coffee. Then he passed a +humidor full of cigars. Rico took one of the fat, black cigars, lit it, +and tipped his chair back. What a way to live!</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the Big Boy, “I got a lot of dough tied up in this dump. I +get rent free, though. Eschelman, the contractor, owns this dump and he +knows how I stand in the city. Boy, he puts up what he pleases and gets +away with it. See the idea, Rico? If a guy stands in with me, he owns +the burg.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico, “you’re a big guy.”</p> + +<p>“I get him contracts, too,” said the Big Boy; “course I get mine out of +it, but I made that guy. When he come here from down state he didn’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210" role="doc-pagebreak">210</span>have an extra pair of pants, now he’s climbing. Yeah, if I had a +wife and a couple of kids, why, I’d build me a big house out in some +swell suburb, but as it is, I’d just as leave be here on one floor. I +got everything I need and then some.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Let’s go in the library,” said the Big Boy, “it’s more comfortable in +there.”</p> + +<p>The Big Boy told the servant to take their coffee into the library. +Then he got up and Rico followed him. The Big Boy put his hand on +Rico’s shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Kind of lit up yourself tonight, ain’t you, Rico?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah, I thought I better put on the monkey suit.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right, Rico. May as well learn now.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>The Big Boy motioned Rico to a chair, then sat down. Rico looked about +him at the great expanse of glass guarding tier after tier of books. +Lord, if a guy’d read that many books he’d sure know a lot!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211" role="doc-pagebreak">211</span>“Rico,” said the Big Boy, “let’s talk serious.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>The Big Boy leaned forward in his chair and stared at Rico.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, “I’m gonna talk and you ain’t gonna hear a word I +say, see, this is inside dope and if it gets out it’ll be just too bad +for somebody.”</p> + +<p>“You know me,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the Big Boy; “get this: if I didn’t think a hell of +a lot of you I wouldn’t be asking you to eat with me. You’re on the +square, Rico, and you’re a comer, see. You got the nerve and you’re +a good, sober, steady guy. That’s what we need. Trouble with most of +these guys they ain’t got nothing from the collar up. O.K. Now, listen. +Pete Montana’s through.”</p> + +<p>Rico nearly leapt out of his chair.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?”</p> + +<p>“Now don’t get excited,” said the Big Boy, “because, when it gets +out, there’s gonna be hell to pay. Ritz Colonna and a couple of other +lowdown bums is gonna make a rush, see, and <span class="pagenum" id="Page_212" role="doc-pagebreak">212</span>that means that +somebody’s gonna get hurt.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico, settling back.</p> + +<p>“But not you,” said the Big Boy; “you’re gonna lay back and let them +dumb eggs bump each other off, then we’ll get our licks in, see? Pete’s +through. The Old Man’s gonna have a talk with him tomorrow or the next +day and Pete’s gonna mosey. He’s all swelled up, thinks he’s king and +all that stuff, but wait till the Old Man gets through with him. Why, +he can hang that guy. Besides that, he can turn the Federal guys loose +on him for peddling narcotics. And boy, how he peddles them! He built +that big house of his on ’em. Well, see how things are? I can’t spill +no more.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “I’m on.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the Big Boy, “but listen: I’m doing a hell of a lot +for you and when I get you planted I want plenty of service.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll sure get it,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Rico, with the Big Boy’s cigar still between his teeth, lay back in the +taxi and stared out at the tangle of traffic on Michigan Boulevard. +Things were sure to God looking up! Five years ago he <span class="pagenum" id="Page_213" role="doc-pagebreak">213</span>wasn’t +nobody to speak of; just a lonely yegg, sticking up chain-stores +and filling-stations. Chiggi had sure given him the right dope. He +remembered one night in Toledo when he was pretty low. There was a +blonde he used to meet at one of the call-houses and she sure did +satisfy him, but, boy, she had to have the coin on the nose or there +wasn’t nothing doing. Well, he didn’t have a red. He was just sitting +there in Chiggi’s thinking about the blonde, when Chiggi came over +and said: “Listen, kid, you got big town stuff in you. What you want +around here? Get somebody to stake you or hit the rods. Hell, don’t be +a piker.” Well, Chiggi staked him, but he blew the stake on the blonde, +oh, boy what a couple of days, and then he hit the rods with Otero. +Little Italy sure looked good to them. They didn’t have a good pair +of pants between them, and a bowl of mulligan tasted better than the +stuff he’d ate at the Big Boy’s. Well, here he was riding taxis and +hobnobbing with guys like James O’Doul, who paid one grand for a bunch +of crockery. Yeah, here he was!</p> + +<p>Rico saw nothing but success in the future. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_214" role="doc-pagebreak">214</span>With the Big Boy +behind him he couldn’t be stopped, and when he once got some place he +knew how to stay there. Play square with the guys that are square with +you; the hell with everybody else.</p> + +<p>Rico smoked his cigar slowly (he had six more of them in his pocket), +and looked absently at the jam of traffic: taxis, Hispano-Suizas, +Fords, huge double-decked busses, leaning as they turned corners. +Rico dropped the cigar butt out the window. Lying back in his seat he +observed:</p> + +<p>“And I thought Pete Montana was such a hell of a guy!”</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p class="dcap">OLGA was only partly dressed when Joe burst in on her. She looked at +him, startled.</p> + +<p>“My Lord,” she said, “what makes you so pale, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Got any liquor?” demanded Joe.</p> + +<p>Olga opened a drawer and handed him a flask. He tipped it up and took a +long pull, then he stood with the flask in his hand staring at the wall.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215" role="doc-pagebreak">215</span>“Joe,” Olga insisted, “what’s wrong with you?”</p> + +<p>Joe came to himself, screwed the top on the flask, and handed it back +to Olga.</p> + +<p>“Boy, I got a shock,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Olga came over and put her arm around him.</p> + +<p>“Tell Olga all about it.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Joe, “I was finishing up my Pierrot dance, see, and you +know when it’s dark and they got the spot on you you can’t see nothing. +Well, I was circling the outside of the floor like I do before I take +that last leap when some dame at a corner table gives a yell, a hell of +a yell. Sibby hears the yell and switches on all the lights and here +I am, right in front of a dame that looks like she’s off her nut. She +was standing up and she had her hands on the table and she was staring +right at me. If I didn’t feel funny, boy! Well, there was a guy with +her and he kept asking her what was the matter, but she wouldn’t say +nothing. I thought she was gonna jump right on me, she looked so funny, +yeah, that dame sure looked funny.”</p> + +<p>Joe paused and meditated. Olga laughed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216" role="doc-pagebreak">216</span>“Listen,” she said, “you better lay off the liquor.”</p> + +<p>“No, straight,” said Joe, “you know I kind of got the idea she +recognized me or something, but, hell, I never seen her before. She’s +an old dame, about forty, and she’s got peroxide hair. There was a guy +with her, a nice-looking guy, and he kept saying, ‘What’s the matter, +Nell, what’s the matter, Nell,’ but he couldn’t get nothing out of her.”</p> + +<p>Olga laughed again.</p> + +<p>“Well, this ain’t nothing to write home about,” she said. “I thought I +was gonna get a thrill. We better change bootleggers, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, lay off,” said Joe. “I’m telling you, you’d’ve got all the kick +you’re looking for if you’d heard that dame yell.”</p> + +<p>“Well, what happened?” demanded Olga, who was getting impatient.</p> + +<p>Joe got out the flask and took another pull at it before he answered +her. The color had come back into his face now and he felt much better.</p> + +<p>“Soon as the boss found out there was something <span class="pagenum" id="Page_217" role="doc-pagebreak">217</span>wrong he came in +and asked this dame if he could do anything for her. And she says, +‘Yes, get me a taxi.’ The guy with her says, ‘What the devil, Nell.’ +And she says, ‘I want to go home.’ So they went out. Boy, the way that +dame looked at me, like I was, God, I don’t know what!”</p> + +<p>“Say, listen,” said Olga, “you been hitting the pipe?”</p> + +<p>“Aw, lay off,” said Joe; “that dame’s got something on her mind, see. +She’s got something on her mind.”</p> + +<p>Someone knocked. Olga called “come in” and a waiter opened the door and +bowed.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Willoughby wants to know if we can bring the table in now, Miss +Stassoff.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Olga, “bring it in.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” said the waiter, then he cupped his hands and called down +the corridor: “Allez!”</p> + +<p>Joe lay down on the lounge and lit a cigarette. Olga went over to her +dressing-table, made up her face, and put on her Japanese kimono.</p> + +<p>Two waiters came in carrying a table; a third followed with a cloth and +silver. When the table was set one of the waiters said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218" role="doc-pagebreak">218</span>“Mr. Willoughby wants to know if he can come back now.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Olga, “tell him to come right back.”</p> + +<p>“Shall we start to serve?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Olga, “right away.”</p> + +<p>When the waiters had gone, Joe said:</p> + +<p>“I’m getting fed up with this Willoughby guy. He’s a dumb egg.”</p> + +<p>“Sure he’s dumb,” said Olga, “but I don’t hold that against him. What I +like about that bird is that he don’t get his hand stuck in his pocket +when the boy comes around with the bill.”</p> + +<p>“He sure don’t, that’s a fact,” said Joe, laughing.</p> + +<p>“Well, then don’t be so particular,” said Olga; “guys like him are few +and far between.”</p> + +<p>Willoughby tapped lightly on the door and then came in. He was freshly +shaven and he looked chubby and boyish.</p> + +<p>Joe got up and shook hands with him. Olga said:</p> + +<p>“Was you out front?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219" role="doc-pagebreak">219</span>“Yes,” said Willoughby; “by the way, Joe, what was all the +commotion?”</p> + +<p>“See,” said Joe, turning to Olga. “She thought I was making it up, Mr. +Willoughby.”</p> + +<p>“No, he wasn’t making it up,” said Willoughby, serious. “I never heard +such a scream in my life.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t remind me,” said Joe; “boy, my hair stood straight up.”</p> + +<p>A waiter came in carrying a wine bucket, followed by another waiter +carrying the soup.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Willoughby, “shall we monjay, as they say in France?”</p> + +<p>“Oui, monsieur,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Joe, “I’m ready for the feed-bag in any language.”</p> + +<p>They sat down. One of the waiters poured the wine. Willoughby held his +glass up to the light.</p> + +<p>“I hope you like this stuff,” he said, “it’s out of my own cellar.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like to sleep in that cellar,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Willoughby, “you have a standing invitation.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220" role="doc-pagebreak">220</span>They ate in silence for a moment, then Joe said:</p> + +<p>“Say, Mr. Willoughby, what you suppose was the matter with that dame?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, forget it, Joe,” said Olga, “she was probably full of hop.”</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p class="dcap">WILLOUGHBY passed the cigarettes and they all left the table. Joe went +back to the lounge, Olga sat in one of the armchairs, and Willoughby +pulled up an ottoman and sat facing her.</p> + +<p>Willoughby hesitated before he said:</p> + +<p>“Olga, when we going to take that little trip?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“What little trip?” asked Joe, looking at Olga.</p> + +<p>“Why, I got a cabin up in Wisconsin,” said Willoughby, “and I thought +before it got cold it would be nice for Olga to go up and take a rest.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221" role="doc-pagebreak">221</span>“Yeah?” said Joe.</p> + +<p>As soon as Willoughby lowered his eyes, Olga winked at Joe.</p> + +<p>“Maybe I could pull it,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Joe, “Olga works too hard, that’s a fact. A little rest +wouldn’t hurt her none.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just what I was thinking,” said Willoughby. “She could sure get +a rest up there. I got a couple of nice motor boats and the fishing’s +great.”</p> + +<p>“Fishing!” said Olga, looking at Joe.</p> + +<p>“Well,” Willoughby considered, “maybe you wouldn’t care for that, but +there are any number of things you could do. Anyway, the air’s great, +nothing like this Chicago muck.”</p> + +<p>“Sounds good,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>The waiters came in to take away the table, but they were immediately +followed by DeVoss, who motioned them out. There was something so +strange about DeVoss’s actions that Joe sat up and stared at him. +DeVoss said:</p> + +<p>“Joe, there’s a couple of guys looking for you.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Joe. “What kind of guys?”</p> + +<p>“Bulls,” said DeVoss, “what you been up to?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_222" role="doc-pagebreak">222</span>Olga got to her feet and stood staring at DeVoss. Willoughby +exclaimed:</p> + +<p>“What’s all this! What’s all this!”</p> + +<p>Joe took an automatic from his hip pocket and put it in Olga’s +dressing-table. Olga took hold of DeVoss’s arm and said:</p> + +<p>“Tell them Joe ain’t here. Joe, honey, beat it. I’ll see if I can find +out what it’s all about.”</p> + +<p>Willoughby was staring stupefied at Joe. He pointed to the +dressing-table.</p> + +<p>“What do you carry that thing for?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>Olga said:</p> + +<p>“Oh, be quiet!”</p> + +<p>Joe grinned at Willoughby.</p> + +<p>“Just in case,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Olga,” said DeVoss, “this is serious. I could tell the way +they acted. I told them I didn’t think Joe was here but they just +laughed.”</p> + +<p>Joe stood undecided.</p> + +<p>“Joe,” DeVoss went on, “remember that time Mr. Rico was over here and a +couple of bulls shadowed him? Well, the big one’s here.”</p> + +<p>“Flaherty!” cried Joe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223" role="doc-pagebreak">223</span>Olga gave Joe a push.</p> + +<p>“Beat it, Joe. You know them bulls. They’ll frame you.”</p> + +<p>“O.K., honey,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Why, Joe,” said Willoughby, “you mean to tell me you’re in some kind +of trouble?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, be quiet,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>Joe grabbed his hat from a chair and started for the door.</p> + +<p>“Goodbye, honey,” he said to Olga, “you’ll hear from me.”</p> + +<p>“Better face the music,” said Willoughby.</p> + +<p>“Go out through the kitchen,” said DeVoss.</p> + +<p>Joe opened the door but closed it immediately and said:</p> + +<p>“It’s all up. Here they come.”</p> + +<p>He looked in agony at Olga. Wasn’t this just his goddam luck! Penned +up in a room three stories above the pavement. He made a dash for the +dressing-table, but Olga grabbed his arm.</p> + +<p>“For God’s sake, Joe,” said DeVoss, “don’t cause no trouble in my +place. I don’t know what they want you for and I don’t give a damn. +I’ll get you a lawyer and see you through, but, for <span class="pagenum" id="Page_224" role="doc-pagebreak">224</span>God’s sake, +don’t do no shooting in my place.”</p> + +<p>Willoughby, stunned, sat staring till his cigarette burned his fingers, +then he said:</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll see you through too.”</p> + +<p>“Goddam it,” cried Joe, “you think I’m gonna let ’em take me like I was +a purse-snatcher on his first stand.”</p> + +<p>He pushed Olga away from him and was pulling at the dressing-table +drawer, when the door opened and Flaherty came in, followed by Spike +Rieger. Flaherty had his right hand in his coat pocket.</p> + +<p>“Joe,” said Flaherty, “step away from that drawer and make it snappy.”</p> + +<p>Joe knew Flaherty’s reputation. That boy used his rod and argued +afterwards. Joe moved away from the dressing-table and stood staring at +the floor.</p> + +<p>“What’s the idea, Flaherty?” he demanded.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Flaherty, “we got a big audience here and I ain’t much on +embarrassing people, so you better just come along and we’ll have a +nice little talk.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, can that,” said Joe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_225" role="doc-pagebreak">225</span>Willoughby walked over to Flaherty.</p> + +<p>“My name’s Willoughby,” he said, “John C. Willoughby. I suppose you’ve +heard of me. Say, what’s this all about anyway? Why, I’ve known Joe for +nearly a year and as far as I know he’s a nice young fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “Joe’s a pretty smooth young fellow, but we +caught up with him.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Willoughby, “I don’t know what he’s done, but I’m willing +to go on his bail.”</p> + +<p>Flaherty turned to Rieger.</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose there’ll be much talk about bail, do you, Spike?”</p> + +<p>Rieger grinned and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No bail!” Willoughby exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Aw, it’s just one of their wise frame-ups, Mr. Willoughby,” said Joe, +but his face was white.</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll see about this,” said Willoughby. “I’ll have my lawyer +down in half an hour.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Flaherty, “there ain’t nobody gonna see this bird for +twenty-four hours.”</p> + +<p>Olga flung herself on the lounge and began to cry.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226" role="doc-pagebreak">226</span>“And let me give you an earful, Mr. Willoughby,” said Flaherty; +“for a guy of your class you sure ain’t very careful about who you mix +up with. These two birds here are taking you, see, and if I was you I’d +snap out of it and forget all about getting a lawyer.”</p> + +<p>“If that ain’t a bull for you,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Don’t pay no attention to him, Jack,” said Olga.</p> + +<p>“Certainly not,” said Willoughby.</p> + +<p>“All right, Spike,” said Flaherty, “I guess we wasted enough time on +these birds. Put the cuffs on him.”</p> + +<p>Olga jumped up and made a grab for Rieger, but DeVoss caught her from +the back and held her.</p> + +<p>“You can’t do nothing that way, Olga,” he said, “you’ll just make it +tough for Joe.”</p> + +<p>Olga screamed with rage and kicked back at DeVoss.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t dames awful?” said Flaherty.</p> + +<p>Willoughby went over to Olga and tried to talk to her, but she +continued to struggle. Rieger took out his handcuffs and walked over to +Joe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227" role="doc-pagebreak">227</span>“Wait a minute,” said Joe, “you can’t put no bracelets on me. +Where’s your warrant?”</p> + +<p>Rieger took the warrant out of his pocket and handed it to Joe. Joe +read it slowly, then, without comment, handed it back.</p> + +<p>“Well, Joe,” said Flaherty.</p> + +<p>Joe didn’t say anything; he just held out his wrists.</p> + +<p>“What do they want you for, Joe?” cried Olga.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” said Joe, “they ain’t got no case.”</p> + +<p>Olga stopped struggling.</p> + +<p>“You mean it, Joe?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Joe, “they ain’t got no case at all. I’ll be out in +twenty-four hours.”</p> + +<p>“Shall I get my lawyer?” asked Willoughby.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t much use,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>DeVoss came over to Flaherty and said:</p> + +<p>“Listen, Mr. Flaherty, take him out through the kitchen, can’t you? I +can’t have cops coming in here pinching people.”</p> + +<p>“You got a nerve,” said Flaherty; “why, I ought to pull you in for +complicity. Didn’t you come back here and tip Joe off?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228" role="doc-pagebreak">228</span>DeVoss got pale.</p> + +<p>“Honest to God, I didn’t tip him off. I just told him a couple of guys +wanted to see him.”</p> + +<p>“Pipe down,” said Flaherty. “Come on, Joe, let’s take a ride.”</p> + +<p>Joe’s face was ghastly, but he grinned.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” he said; “it’s the first ride I ever took with any of you +birds.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I hope it’s the last,” said Flaherty.</p> + +<p>“Want me to come down and see you, Joe?” asked Olga.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>They put Joe between two policemen in the back seat of the police car. +Rieger and Flaherty sat in front. The traffic was light as it was +nearly three o’clock in the morning. Rieger drove carelessly, one hand +on the wheel most of the time, and talked to Flaherty.</p> + +<p>“Boy,” said Joe, “that bird don’t care how he drives.”</p> + +<p>“You ain’t got far to go,” said one of the policemen.</p> + +<p>“No, but I ain’t sure of getting there.”</p> + +<p>The policemen laughed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229" role="doc-pagebreak">229</span>“Say,” said Joe, “can I smoke?”</p> + +<p>One of the policemen leaned forward.</p> + +<p>“Say, chief, can this bird smoke?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Flaherty; “what the hell you think this is, Joe! Maybe we +better pick up a couple of girls for you.”</p> + +<p>The policemen laughed.</p> + +<p>“Funny thing,” said Joe, “you know, Flaherty, a friend of mine told me +the other day that he didn’t think you’d live long.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “I know that friend of yours. He ain’t looking +any too healthy himself.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>For as late as it was there was a good deal of activity at the station. +A dozen plain-clothes men were waiting in the big room, when they +brought Joe in, and the Assistant County Prosecutor was standing at the +desk talking to the sergeant.</p> + +<p>“Looks like big doings,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Shut up,” said Flaherty; “recess is over. You open your mouth again +and I’ll close it for you.”</p> + +<p>They took Joe up to the desk to book him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230" role="doc-pagebreak">230</span>“Well, you got him,” said the prosecutor, looking Joe over.</p> + +<p>“Yeah, we got him,” said Flaherty. “Did you chase the newspaper guys?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the prosecutor, “there won’t be no leaks to this.”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Flaherty.</p> + +<p>The sergeant nodded to him.</p> + +<p>“All right, chief.”</p> + +<p>Flaherty took Joe by the arm.</p> + +<p>“All right, Joe,” he said, “we’re gonna give you a nice little room.”</p> + +<p>“With bath?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“Listen, boy,” said Flaherty, “we’re gonna take all that smartness out +of you.”</p> + +<p>Joe didn’t say anything. He was trying to keep up his front until they +locked him in his cell, but he was ready to drop. They had him; they +sure to God had him.</p> + +<p>The turnkey swung the big barred door wide. Flaherty took Joe to the +door of his cell, unlocked the handcuffs, and gave him a push.</p> + +<p>“All right, boy,” he said, “I’ll be back later.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231" role="doc-pagebreak">231</span>“Listen, Flaherty,” said Joe, “can’t I even have a smoke?”</p> + +<p>Flaherty laughed, motioned for the turnkey to lock the cell door, and +disappeared down the corridor.</p> + +<p>“Say, buddy,” said Joe to the turnkey, “can’t you get me a pack of +cigarettes?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing doing,” said the turnkey, “not for fifty bucks. I got strict +orders on you, boy.”</p> + +<p>The turnkey went away. Joe stood in the middle of his cell for a +moment, then he climbed up on his bunk and looked out the window. Far +away down a side street he saw a big electric sign: DANCING.</p> + +<p>Joe flung himself down on his bunk. They had him; they sure to God did.</p> + +<p>“If I can only stick it out!” he said.</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p class="dcap">JOE awoke from a doze and turned to look out the window. Still dark. +He couldn’t have been asleep long. Wasn’t it never going to <span class="pagenum" id="Page_232" role="doc-pagebreak">232</span>get +light! He got up and walked to the front of his cell. It wouldn’t be so +bad if there were some other guys to talk to; but the cells on either +side of him were vacant; also the ones across the corridor.</p> + +<p>“They sure ain’t taking no chances with me,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>He began to feel very uneasy. Something seemed to be dragging at his +stomach and he had a rotten taste in his mouth.</p> + +<p>“Some of that highhat grub I et,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>The turnkey came down the corridor and stopped in front of Joe’s cell.</p> + +<p>“Say, buddy,” he said, “they’ll be wanting you up front pretty soon.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Joe. “Listen, can’t you do me a favor and get me a pack of +cigs. I got plenty of money. Ask the sergeant.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t cut it,” said the turnkey.</p> + +<p>“What’s doing up front?” asked Joe.</p> + +<p>“A show-up.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Joe; then, “listen, I’ll give you a couple of bucks for +some cigs.”</p> + +<p>The turnkey laughed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233" role="doc-pagebreak">233</span>“Say, there’s a guy in 18 that’d give me a hundred berries for +some snow. Not a chance. They sure are putting the clamps on us now. +It’s that goddam Crime Commission business. Tough on you birds.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t it!” said Joe.</p> + +<p>The turnkey went away. Joe threw himself down on his bunk. Yeah, now +it was coming. That goddam peroxide dame had sure put the skids under +him. Well, there you was! Can’t tell how things are going to break. If +he’d’ve been wise he’d’ve sent Olga to see the Big Boy or Rico. But +then there’s no use letting a dame get too familiar with everything. +Anyway, he had an alibi. But Flaherty was a rough agent and you could +never tell what he would pull. Joe felt mechanically for his absent +cigarette case.</p> + +<p>“Hell,” he said, “I lost my head! I lost my head! Rico ought to put a +hunk of lead in me. As long as I been in the game and then don’t know +no better. God, but I was dumb.”</p> + +<p>He turned over irritably and sat up. He heard the keys clanking down +the corridor. A policeman stopped in front of his door and called:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234" role="doc-pagebreak">234</span>“All right, dago.”</p> + +<p>Joe got up. The turnkey unlocked the door. There were two policemen and +a plain-clothes man standing a little way down the corridor. When Joe +came out one of the policemen said:</p> + +<p>“There’s the guy that plugged Courtney.”</p> + +<p>They stared at him. Joe felt sick at his stomach.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the plain-clothes man, “they won’t do much to that bird.”</p> + +<p>The turnkey took Joe by the arm.</p> + +<p>“All right, kid,” he said.</p> + +<p>Joe walked between the turnkey and the policeman, who had called +him. They took him into a big room where there were three policemen +and about a dozen prisoners. Joe saw Bugs Liska, Steve Gollancz’s +lieutenant. They exchanged a glance.</p> + +<p>A police sergeant got to his feet and shouted:</p> + +<p>“All right, you birds, let’s go.”</p> + +<p>The turnkey pushed Joe into line. A big door was swung open and he saw +a small, brilliantly lighted room with a crowd of people lining the +walls. Joe looked for the peroxide blonde. There <span class="pagenum" id="Page_235" role="doc-pagebreak">235</span>she was, pale and +hardboiled, between two bulls. Joe started. God, he had her now. She +was standing side of Courtney when he dropped. Joe began to sweat.</p> + +<p>The line in single file was herded in. Bugs Liska, who was in front of +Joe, whispered:</p> + +<p>“Say, what’s this all about?”</p> + +<p>The sergeant heard him and leaping across the room grabbed him by the +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Any more of that,” said the sergeant, “and some of you bad eggs is +gonna get cracked.”</p> + +<p>“Drop dead,” said Liska.</p> + +<p>Joe found himself face to face with the blonde. She stared at him. +Flaherty walked along the line and examined the prisoners. When he got +to Joe, Joe looked away.</p> + +<p>“How’s that bath?” asked Flaherty.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Liska said:</p> + +<p>“Say, Irish, what’s this all about?”</p> + +<p>“Shut your dirty mouth,” said Flaherty.</p> + +<p>A man Joe had never seen before, a big husky man with curly gray hair, +went over to the blonde and said:</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236" role="doc-pagebreak">236</span>“Is he in that bunch, Mrs. Weil?”</p> + +<p>The blonde nodded.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mrs. Weil, this is a very serious matter so don’t make any +mistakes. Now if you’re sure he’s in that bunch, point him out.”</p> + +<p>The blonde compressed her lips and walked over to Joe.</p> + +<p>“There he is. There’s the dirty skunk.”</p> + +<p>“Jesus,” said Liska, glancing at Joe, “it’s your funeral, hunh?”</p> + +<p>The blonde stood glaring at Joe.</p> + +<p>“I hope they hang you,” she cried, “shooting a guy like Jim Courtney.”</p> + +<p>“I never shot him,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Shut up,” said Flaherty. “All right, sergeant, march ’em out.”</p> + +<p>In the big room Liska said:</p> + +<p>“Joe, it sure looks tough for you.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t prove nothing,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>The sergeant rushed at them.</p> + +<p>“Where do you birds think you’re at!” he cried.</p> + +<p>Stepping back, he struck Joe a hard blow with his fist. Mechanically +Joe set himself and raised <span class="pagenum" id="Page_237" role="doc-pagebreak">237</span>his hands, then, coming to himself, he +dropped his hands and stood looking at the floor. Liska said:</p> + +<p>“Say, sergeant, I guess I can go home, can’t I? My old mother’ll be +worried to death.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant stared at Liska, then he laughed.</p> + +<p>“I’m gonna hang on to you just for fun,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Liska. “Well not long, cause Steve’s gonna spring me.”</p> + +<p>The sergeant motioned for the turnkey.</p> + +<p>“Lock the dago up,” he said; “you plant yourself over there in a chair, +Bugs.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>Joe lay down and tried to sleep. Over his head the barred window began +to get gray. Morning sure was slow in coming.</p> + +<p>Of a sudden he thought of Red Gus. He got to his feet and began to +walk back and forth. Yeah, they sure put the rope on old Gus and there +wasn’t a tougher guy in the world. Yeah, he was so tough he didn’t +die right away and kept kicking. Cops fainted and all that stuff. Joe +climbed up on his bunk and stood tiptoe to look <span class="pagenum" id="Page_238" role="doc-pagebreak">238</span>out the window. +Morning was coming. He saw a milk wagon passing the jail. How come he +had to think of Red Gus?</p> + +<p>He thought he heard a noise and turned around. There were two cops +standing in front of his cell, looking at him. Joe felt uneasy.</p> + +<p>“Want me?” he called.</p> + +<p>They didn’t say anything; they just stood there looking, then went away.</p> + +<p>Joe got down from the window and sat on his bunk. No use trying to +sleep. Down the corridor someone began to scream. The turnkey passed +his cell on the run. Joe felt his hair stirring and sweat stood out on +his forehead.</p> + +<p>“Christ,” he said, “it’s only that dope.”</p> + +<p>In a minute the turnkey came back and stopped at Joe’s door.</p> + +<p>“Couple of guys coming back to take a look at you,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Joe; “say, what was all the noise?”</p> + +<p>“The dope blew his top again,” said the turnkey; “the Doc’s gonna give +him a shot pretty soon.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239" role="doc-pagebreak">239</span>The big man with the curly gray hair, Flaherty, and two policemen +came down the corridor.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Flaherty, “let him out.”</p> + +<p>The turnkey unlocked the door and pushed Joe into the corridor. They +all stood staring at Joe; nobody said anything.</p> + +<p>Finally the gray-haired man said:</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s too bad. Nice-looking boy.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “but he’s hell with a gun.”</p> + +<p>Joe didn’t say anything. But Flaherty said:</p> + +<p>“Joe, I never thought you was the kind of a bird that’d shoot a guy in +the back.”</p> + +<p>Joe didn’t say anything.</p> + +<p>“Hanging’s too good for you, Joe.”</p> + +<p>“Poor old Jim never even had a gun on him. You lousy dago!” cried one +of the policemen, and took a step toward Joe.</p> + +<p>Flaherty motioned him back.</p> + +<p>“Just let the law take its course, Luke,” he said, “they’ll hang this +baby sure.”</p> + +<p>“Will they?” said Joe.</p> + +<p>The gray-haired man shook his finger at Joe.</p> + +<p>“Yes, my boy, I’m afraid they will.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_240" role="doc-pagebreak">240</span>“They can’t prove nothing on me,” said Joe; “I wasn’t even in that +end of town the night Courtney was bumped off. That dame’s full of hop.”</p> + +<p>One of the policemen stepped past Flaherty and knocked Joe down. +Flaherty grabbed the policeman and pushed him back. Joe got to his feet +and stood holding his jaw.</p> + +<p>“I’m gonna put it to you birds for this,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>Both of the policemen made a rush at Joe, but Flaherty held them back.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Flaherty, “got an eyeful, Mr. McClure?”</p> + +<p>Joe stared at the gray-haired man. So this was the Crime Commission guy +that was kicking up all the row. Joe took a good look at him so he’d +know him the next time he saw him. Maybe, if things broke right, he +could deliver a nice package at that bird’s house some morning.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. McClure, “lock him up, turnkey.”</p> + +<p>The turnkey took Joe by the arm and flung him into his cell. Joe fell +on his hands and knees.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241" role="doc-pagebreak">241</span>“Say,” said Joe, “what’s the idea?”</p> + +<p>The turnkey came over and put his face against the bars.</p> + +<p>“Orders, buddy,” he said, then he went away.</p> + +<p>Yeah, it was orders all right. They wasn’t going to let up on him till +he spilled something. Joe felt panicky. He flung himself face down on +his bunk and began to sob.</p> + +<p>“Won’t I never get out of here?” he said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>They had been questioning Joe for over two hours. He sat under a +blazing light and they sat round him in the darkness. Joe was so +thirsty that he could hardly swallow. They took turns at him: first, +Mr. McClure, then Flaherty, then Rieger. Flaherty sat near him and when +he was slow with his answers rapped him over the knuckles with a ruler. +But Joe stuck it out.</p> + +<p>The turnkey took him back to his cell and gave him some water. Joe took +a big drink then lay down on his bunk and tried to sleep, but it was no +use. He felt hot all over and his tongue was swollen.</p> + +<p>He put his hands under his head and lay looking <span class="pagenum" id="Page_242" role="doc-pagebreak">242</span>at the square +spots of sunshine in the dark corridor.</p> + +<p>“God,” he said, “I can’t stand much of this.”</p> + +<p>In five minutes the turnkey came back.</p> + +<p>“They want you again, kid,” he said.</p> + +<p>“God, I can’t move,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>The turnkey unlocked the door and came into the cell.</p> + +<p>“Get on your feet,” he said, “and snap it up. The prosecutor’s in there +now and you’re gonna ketch hell.”</p> + +<p>Joe got slowly to his feet and the turnkey led him down the corridor.</p> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p class="dcap">SAM VETTORI sat half-dozing in an armchair watching a crap game. It +was about eleven o’clock in the morning and most of the blinds were +still down. All the wheels were covered and the chairs were piled up +on the tables. The game was desultory as nobody had much money. As it +wasn’t a house game, but merely <span class="pagenum" id="Page_243" role="doc-pagebreak">243</span>some of the Vettori gang amusing +themselves, Sam occasionally staked one or another of the players.</p> + +<p>Since the rise of Rico, Sam had confined his efforts to the managing +of Little Arnie’s old joint. He was making money hand over fist and he +was content to sit all day in his armchair and superintend the work of +his employees. He drank wine by the gallon and ate plate after plate of +spaghetti. In a month he put on fifteen pounds. As he was fat to begin +with, this added poundage made him immense. His aquiline features were +puffed out nearly beyond recognition and there were rolls of fat at the +base of his skull. Sam had loosed the reins and gone slack. Formerly, +effort had kept him in better condition, but now, perfectly at ease, +free of responsibility, the deadly lethargy which had threatened him +all his life took possession of him.</p> + +<p>Sam crossed his legs with difficulty and took out a stogie. The crap +game had ended in an argument. Kid Bean loudly contended that he had +been gypped.</p> + +<p>“Shut up, you guys,” said Sam, “I’m doing <span class="pagenum" id="Page_244" role="doc-pagebreak">244</span>you a favor to let you +shoot in here. Any more of this kind of stuff and you don’t do it no +more. If you guys’d save your money you wouldn’t have to be fighting +over two bits.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, rest your jaw,” said Kid Bean.</p> + +<p>Joe Peeper took the dice and flung them out the window.</p> + +<p>“Them babies’ll never bother me no more,” said Joe.</p> + +<p>“Can you beat that!” said Kid Bean.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Sam, “since Blackie’s got all the jack, the rest of you +guys can pitch pennies. Listen, Kid, don’t forget you owe me two bucks.”</p> + +<p>“You can take it out of my hide,” said the Kid.</p> + +<p>“Your hide ain’t worth it,” said Sam.</p> + +<p>Chesty, the doorman, came out of Sam’s office rubbing his eyes.</p> + +<p>“Sam,” he said, “Scabby wants to see you.”</p> + +<p>“Tell him to come out here,” said Sam.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Chesty, “he wants to see you private.”</p> + +<p>“Hey, Sam,” said Kid Bean, “give us a deck of cards, will you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Sam, “you don’t even know what <span class="pagenum" id="Page_245" role="doc-pagebreak">245</span>they’re for.” He pulled +himself slowly to his feet and turning to Chesty went on: “Get these +guys a pack of cards and lock ’em up some place. They’d bump each other +off for two bits and I don’t want this nice carpet spoiled.”</p> + +<p>Yawning and stretching, Sam went into his office and shut the door. +Scabby was standing in the middle of the room, biting his nails.</p> + +<p>“Want a bottle of wine or something, Scabby?” asked Sam.</p> + +<p>“Christ, no!” cried Scabby.</p> + +<p>Sam stared at him, then dropped into a chair.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said, “you look like you got something on your mind, so +spill it.”</p> + +<p>Scabby was so nervous that he couldn’t control the muscles of his face.</p> + +<p>“You’re goddam right I got something on my mind,” said Scabby, “Joe +spilled the works.”</p> + +<p>Sam opened his eyes wide.</p> + +<p>“Joe who?”</p> + +<p>“Joe Massara,” said Scabby, “they nabbed him on the Courtney business +and he squawked.”</p> + +<p>Sam’s jaw fell and he ran his hands over his face in a bewildered way.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246" role="doc-pagebreak">246</span>“Yeah?” he said.</p> + +<p>“It’s the God’s truth,” said Scabby; “boy, the bulls sure played this +one slick. Listen, I didn’t even know nothing about it. They kept the +newspaper guys out and when a couple guys who were in the know came +looking for Joe they told them that they must have him at the Chicago +Avenue station. And out at Chicago Avenue they sent ’em some place +else. Yeah, it’s all over now.”</p> + +<p>This was too much for Sam. He just sat there staring at Scabby.</p> + +<p>“God, Sam,” said Scabby, astonished, “don’t you get me? It’s all over. +Listen, if it wasn’t for you I’d be on my way right now. I don’t know +whether I’ll be named or not, but I ain’t taking no chances. Love of +God, Sam, don’t just sit there. You got to do something.”</p> + +<p>“Joe spilled everything?” asked Sam, taking it in slowly.</p> + +<p>“Yeah, he stuck it out for four hours, but he didn’t have a chance.”</p> + +<p>There was a flash of the old Sam Vettori. He got up and took Scabby by +the arm.</p> + +<p>“Is Rico wised up?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_247" role="doc-pagebreak">247</span>“No,” said Scabby.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Sam, “you keep your mouth shut.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t have to tell me,” said Scabby.</p> + +<p>Sam looked about him, bewildered.</p> + +<p>“But, good God,” he cried, “what am I gonna do?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Scabby, “I got a can down here and I’m hitting East. Want +to go with me? I’ll take a chance.”</p> + +<p>Sam looked his bewilderment. Things were moving too fast for him. Why, +he hadn’t been out of Chicago for twenty years. He hadn’t been out of +Little Italy for over five. Just pick up and beat it.</p> + +<p>“What the hell!” said Sam, “I got a good business.... God, what am I +gonna do?”</p> + +<p>Scabby stared at him.</p> + +<p>“Why, Sam,” he said, “you must be losing your mind.”</p> + +<p>Sam wiped the sweat from his face and sank back into his chair.</p> + +<p>“Joe spilled it, hunh? Rico said he’d turn yellow.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_248" role="doc-pagebreak">248</span>Scabby took him under the arms and tried to pull him to his feet, +but Sam pushed him away.</p> + +<p>“No use running,” he said, “they’ll get you sure. I ain’t gonna go +running all over hell and back and a bunch of bulls chasing me.”</p> + +<p>Scabby swore violently in Italian.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Sam, “no use running.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Scabby, “this bird’s gonna pull his freight. Sam, you must +be full of hop.”</p> + +<p>Sam sat staring at his shoes.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Scabby, “I can’t waste no more time. Are you gonna pull +out or ain’t you?”</p> + +<p>Sam didn’t say anything.</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Scabby; “I’m moving.”</p> + +<p>“Wait,” cried Sam. “Scabby, listen to me. I been good to you, ain’t I?”</p> + +<p>“You sure have.”</p> + +<p>“I give you the money to bring your old man over here, didn’t I? And I +give you the money to bury him, didn’t I?”</p> + +<p>“You sure did.”</p> + +<p>“Well, listen, Scabby, if Rico gets away, pop him. Goddam him; he’s +busted us all. Pop him, Scabby, for old Sam.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249" role="doc-pagebreak">249</span>“He won’t get away,” said Scabby.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know that guy,” said Sam, getting shakily to his feet; “sure +to God as I’m a Catholic, you don’t know that guy. He’s got a run of +luck and it may last.”</p> + +<p>“If he gets away I’ll pop him,” said Scabby.</p> + +<p>The door was flung violently open and Killer Pepi stepped in.</p> + +<p>“I heard you bastards,” he said. “The Kid told me there was something +up. Double-crossing the boss, hunh?”</p> + +<p>“Go to hell,” said Sam.</p> + +<p>Scabby raised his gun but it missed fire. The Killer shot from his hip, +then ran out, slamming the door.</p> + +<p>“Did he plug you, Scabby?” cried Sam.</p> + +<p>“No,” said Scabby, “but I heard her sing.”</p> + +<p>The window behind Scabby had a bullet hole in it.</p> + +<p>“He’ll spill it sure,” said Sam, his face puckered.</p> + +<p>“Won’t do him no good,” said Scabby, “’cause the bulls are on their +way. Well, Sam, I’m moving.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_250" role="doc-pagebreak">250</span>Sam just looked at him. Scabby raised the window and climbed out +on the fire-escape.</p> + +<p>“Love of God, Sam,” said Scabby, “you got to do something.”</p> + +<p>Sam took his hat from the hook.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go see the Big Boy.”</p> + +<p>“It won’t do you no good, Sam.”</p> + +<p>They heard someone running down the hall, then, there was a shot, +followed by a rush of feet. Chesty flung open the door.</p> + +<p>“The bulls!” he cried.</p> + +<p>Scabby disappeared down the fire-escape. Sam took out his automatic and +put his back against the wall. Spike Rieger put his head in the door, +then drew it back hastily.</p> + +<p>“Sam,” he called, “better give up.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Sam, flinging his gun on the floor.</p> + +<p>Spike Rieger came in followed by two policemen.</p> + +<p>“Put the cuffs on him,” said Spike.</p> + +<p>Sam held out his hands and one of the policemen snapped on the +handcuffs.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_251" role="doc-pagebreak">251</span>“Spike,” said Sam, “did you pick the Killer up on the way in?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Spike, “we don’t want him for nothing.” Turning to the +policemen Spike said: “All right, put him in the wagon.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, Spike,” said Sam, “did you get Rico?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Spike. “Flaherty’s after him. I guess you know +Gentleman Joe squawked, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Sam, indifferently, “but you ain’t got no case against me.”</p> + +<p>Spike laughed.</p> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THE KILLER knocked at Rico’s door but got no response. He knocked again +and again, then, getting impatient, he put his shoulder to the door and +flung it open. No Rico. The Killer stood in the hall, wondering where +Rico could have gone. From the landing above him, the landlady yelled:</p> + +<p>“Hey, what did you do to that door?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252" role="doc-pagebreak">252</span>“The hell with the door,” said Pepi; “do you know where the guy +that lives there is?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the landlady, “but I seen him go out with a fellow.”</p> + +<p>“What kind of a fellow?”</p> + +<p>“A little fellow.”</p> + +<p>Otero! Killer took the stairs at a jump but slowed his pace as he +reached the main floor. There was a police car at the curb. Flaherty +got out leisurely and stood talking to one of the policemen in the +front seat. Pepi went over to him.</p> + +<p>“Looking for the boss?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Flaherty, “the Big Boy sent me down. I want to have a talk +with him.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Pepi. “Getting wise to yourself, hunh?”</p> + +<p>“Rico was always O.K. with me.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the talk,” said Pepi. “Well, the boss is upstairs by himself.”</p> + +<p>When Flaherty and one of his men had gone into the building, the Killer +grinned at the others and walked slowly away, but, as soon as he had +turned the corner, he broke into a run.</p> + +<p>There were two little Italian kids sitting on <span class="pagenum" id="Page_253" role="doc-pagebreak">253</span>the steps of the +stairway that led up to Otero’s. They made way for Pepi.</p> + +<p>“Otero upstairs?” he asked.</p> + +<p>One of the kids said:</p> + +<p>“That funny little guy?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Pepi.</p> + +<p>“I think I seen him go up.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said the other kid, “I seen him.”</p> + +<p>Pepi took the stairs at a run and rapped at Otero’s door. Seal Skin +opened it a few inches but Pepi pushed her aside and walked in. Otero +was sitting with his feet on the bed, smoking a big cigar.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the boss?” asked Pepi.</p> + +<p>“At Blondy’s. What’s the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Joe squawked,” said Pepi, “and the bulls is looking for Rico. Get your +coat on and beat it, Otero. I’ll go after the boss.”</p> + +<p>Otero leapt to his feet and struggled into his coat.</p> + +<p>“Bulls looking for me too?”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Pepi, “it’s the Courtney business. You beat it, Otero. +This ain’t no picnic.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Otero, “I go with Rico.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254" role="doc-pagebreak">254</span>“You damn dummy,” said Seal Skin.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Pepi, “you beat it, Otero. Get out of town. They don’t +want me for nothing. I’ll see if I can’t get Rico on the phone; if I +can’t I’ll go after him. Listen, the bulls is over at Rico’s right now.”</p> + +<p>“Caramba!” cried Otero, and, slipping his automatic into his coat +pocket, he ran out into the hall and down the stairs.</p> + +<p>“The damn dummy!” said Seal Skin.</p> + +<p>Pepi stood looking at Seal Skin then he said:</p> + +<p>“Sure he’s a damn dummy, but he’s right.”</p> + +<p>Before Otero had gone half a block in the direction of Blondy’s, he +saw a police car coming toward him. He ducked into a drugstore. It was +empty except for a clerk who stood staring at Otero.</p> + +<p>“Show me the back way out, you!” said Otero.</p> + +<p>“Say!” said the clerk.</p> + +<p>Otero took out his gun. The clerk threw himself down behind the +counter. Otero ran out through the prescription room and found the back +door, which opened into an alley. One end of the alley was blind, the +other came out onto a busy <span class="pagenum" id="Page_255" role="doc-pagebreak">255</span>street. Otero ran toward the open end, +praying in Spanish.</p> + +<p>All along the curbs on both sides of the street pushcarts were drawn up +and peddlers were calling their wares. A slow-moving crowd of Little +Italians blocked the pavements. Otero, because of his size, disappeared +into the crowd, and, although he was forced to go slowly, he was safe +from observation. Half a block from Blondy’s he ducked down an alley, +crossed a long cement court and climbed the fire-escape.</p> + +<p>Blondy’s bedroom window was locked. Otero beat on it with his fist. +For a moment there was no response, then he saw the bedroom door open +slowly and Blondy’s face appeared. She ran over and unlocked the +window, then she turned and called:</p> + +<p>“Rico, it’s The Greek.”</p> + +<p>Rico came into the bedroom. He had his hat on.</p> + +<p>“Did Pepi get you?”</p> + +<p>“No, what the hell?”</p> + +<p>The phone rang and Blondy went to answer it.</p> + +<p>“They got Joe and he squawked,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Rico looked at him. Blondy came running back.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256" role="doc-pagebreak">256</span>“My God, Rico,” she said, “the bulls’re after you. Joe squealed. +You ought to plugged that softie, Rico. You ought to plugged him.”</p> + +<p>Rico stood in the middle of the room, staring. By an effort of the +will, he rid himself of an attitude of mind which had been growing on +him since his interviews with Montana and the Big Boy. He was nobody, +nobody. Worse than nobody. The bulls wanted him now and they wanted +him bad. Goodbye dollar cigars and crockery at one grand, goodbye +swell food and Tuxedos and security. Rico was nobody. Just a lonely +Youngstown yegg that the bulls wanted. His face was ghastly.</p> + +<p>He swung his fist at the air.</p> + +<p>“I ought to plugged him! I ought to plugged him!”</p> + +<p>Otero stood staring at Rico. Blondy was putting on her hat.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Rico, “let’s go.”</p> + +<p>Blondy said:</p> + +<p>“Take me, Rico.”</p> + +<p>Rico shook his head.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257" role="doc-pagebreak">257</span>“Nothing doing, Blondy. I’m traveling fast and I can’t be bothered +with no dame.”</p> + +<p>“Jesus, Rico,” said Blondy, unable to realize what had happened, +“everything was going so nice.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Rico, “but it’s all over now and that’s that. You stay +planted, Blondy, and as soon as I get a chance I’ll send you a stake.”</p> + +<p>Otero crawled out the window onto the fire-escape and Rico followed +him. Blondy began to scream.</p> + +<p>“Shut your mouth,” said Rico, “and if the bulls come up the front way +kid ’em along. Make ’em think you got me hid, see?”</p> + +<p>“O.K., Rico,” said Blondy.</p> + +<p>Otero and Rico went down the fire-escape. They stopped at the foot of +the fire-escape and Rico took Otero by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, “here’s the dope. We got to get to Ma Magdalena’s. +She’s got most of my jack and a good hide-out. It ain’t gonna be easy, +because the bulls’re probably scattered all around. But once we get +there, we’re O.K.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258" role="doc-pagebreak">258</span>“All right,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>They started. Rico knew every alley in the district, and he led Otero +by such a safe route that they were soon within a block and a half of +Ma Magdalena’s without having crossed a main thoroughfare.</p> + +<p>“Now,” said Rico, “we got to watch our step. If the bulls are cruising, +they’re cruising this street sure.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Rico, “don’t be afraid to use your gat if the fun +begins. They can only hang you once.”</p> + +<p>“I ain’t afraid,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>They left the alley and were half way across the street when somebody +shouted at them to halt. Without turning, they broke into a run.</p> + +<p>“It’s only one bull,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>A bullet sang over them and they heard the blast of a policeman’s +whistle. Otero stopped in his tracks, turned, took a steady aim and +fired. The policeman staggered forward three or four steps and fell to +his knees.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259" role="doc-pagebreak">259</span>“Got him,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Rico turned. The policeman was kneeling in the middle of the street, +trying to steady his hand for a shot.</p> + +<p>“Duck,” cried Rico, simultaneously with the firing of the policeman’s +gun.</p> + +<p>Otero twisted sideways, looked at Rico with surprise, then dropped his +gun, and began to walk up the alley holding his stomach. Rico put his +arm around him and, pulling him over to the side of the alley where he +could keep a telephone pole between them and the policeman, guided him +along. But after a few steps, Otero pulled away from Rico and cried:</p> + +<p>“Run, Rico, run. They got me sure. I can’t feel nothing.”</p> + +<p>Rico grabbed him and tried to pull him along, but he resisted.</p> + +<p>“Goddam you, Rico,” cried Otero, “run! I can’t go no farther. I’m done +for.”</p> + +<p>Rico heard the roar of a police car. He released Otero, who staggered +away from him and then fell flat on his back.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_260" role="doc-pagebreak">260</span>“Run, Rico,” said Otero.</p> + +<p>Rico climbed a fence, ran up through a filthy back yard, and in at an +open back door. There was a young Italian girl sweeping in the hall. At +Rico’s sudden appearance, she dropped her broom and flattened herself +against the wall. Rico took her by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Listen, sister,” he said, “the bulls’re after me. I’m going out the +front way, see, but if the bulls come through here you tell ’em I +hopped the fence next door and doubled back. Got it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes sir,” said the girl, then looking up at Rico, “I know you.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico. “Well, do your stuff then, sister.”</p> + +<p>In the alley behind the house there was a shriek of <span class="corr" id="corr260" title="Source: breaks">brakes</span> and someone +cried in a loud voice:</p> + +<p>“He went in that way!”</p> + +<p>The girl picked up her broom and went on sweeping. Rico ran out through +the front hall, down the long flight of stone steps, and crossed the +street leisurely.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_261" role="doc-pagebreak">261</div> + +<h3>VII</h3> + +<p class="dcap">MA MAGDALENA let him in at the alley door.</p> + +<p>“Well, Rico,” she said; “got yourself in a nice fix, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>Rico grinned.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he said, “who told you?”</p> + +<p>“The bulls were here and searched the place.”</p> + +<p>“Didn’t find the hide-out, did they?”</p> + +<p>Ma Magdalena laughed.</p> + +<p>“What a chance!”</p> + +<p>Rico followed Ma down into the basement. She led him through a short +tunnel and back into the hide-out. A small, round opening just large +enough to admit one person had been pierced in a heavy stone wall. In +front of the wall rows of pine shelves had been built and these were +filled with canned goods. The section of the shelves which hid the +opening was hinged and could be swung open.</p> + +<p>Rico followed Ma through the opening and came out into a little room +with a cot in one corner, <span class="pagenum" id="Page_262" role="doc-pagebreak">262</span>a table, and one chair. Rico took off +his hat and sat down.</p> + +<p>“They got The Greek,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Ma.</p> + +<p>Rico took out a cigar and lit it.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, “I want to stay here a couple of days. Then I’m +gonna pull out. Get me some magazines and keep me posted.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Ma, “but it’s gonna cost you, because I’m taking +chances, see, I’m taking big chances.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “you got my roll, help yourself.”</p> + +<p>Ma Magdalena smiled broadly.</p> + +<p>“That’s the talk, Rico. Old Ma’ll sure take care of you.”</p> + +<p>“O.K.,” said Rico; “now, get this: in two days I want a car.”</p> + +<p>“Arrigo’s got a car. If we go hooking one, it might spoil your +get-away.”</p> + +<p>“That’s good,” said Rico; “all right, I want a jumper suit, you know, +one of them suits like a garage mechanic wears, and a razor.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Ma Magdalena.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263" role="doc-pagebreak">263</span>When she had gone, Rico took off his coat and shoes, and lay down on +the cot. His nerves were jumpy and he couldn’t seem to get settled. He +flung his cigar away and turned his face to the wall.</p> + +<p>“Just when I thought things was on the up and up,” he said.</p> + +<p>Rico felt resentful, but his resentment was not directed at any +specific group or person; it was vague as yet. He turned from side to +side on his cot, then he gave it up.</p> + +<p>Ma Magdalena came back with a big mug of coffee and a couple of papers. +Rico sat down at the table.</p> + +<p>“They got Sam,” said Ma.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “that’s hips for Sam.”</p> + +<p>Rico took the papers from her and glanced at the headlines.</p> + +<blockquote> +<p class="center">GENTLEMAN JOE WILTS GANG CHIEF NAMED AS SLAYER</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>Ma Magdalena went out. Rico sat reading the paper and sipping his +coffee.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_264" role="doc-pagebreak">264</div> + +<blockquote> +<p>Gentleman Joe Massara looks more like a movie actor than a gunman. +When arrested he was wearing an expensive Tuxedo and the rings that +were taken from him are valued at $3000.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“To hell with that,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>He read on:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Cesare Bandello, known as Rico, the Vettori gang chief, was named as +the actual slayer of Courtney....</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “and I’m the only one they ain’t gonna get.”</p> +</section> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" aria-hidden="true"> +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="part7-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_265" role="doc-pagebreak">265</div> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="part7-hd">PART VII</h2> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_267" role="doc-pagebreak">267</div> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p class="dcap">IT was dark when Rico reached the outskirts of Hammond. He drove into a +field, took the license plates off and buried them, and got out of his +jumpers. Then he took some clean waste from the tool box and wiped the +grease from his face.</p> + +<p>“What a cinch,” he said.</p> + +<p>Things had gone a lot better than he had expected them to. There hadn’t +been a hitch of any kind. A motor cop out in Blue Island had waved to +him even. Rico laughed. You never know. When you’re looking for things +to go right they never do. When you’re looking for trouble, why, things +are O.K. Yeah, funny!</p> + +<p>Rico walked to the car line. He was wearing a plain, dark suit and an +army shirt Arrigo had given him. He had shaved off his mustache and the +hard, short bristles on his upper lip worried him. Rico felt very proud +of his escape. It was a good idea to dress himself up like a garage +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268" role="doc-pagebreak">268</span>mechanic and drive across town in broad daylight. Yeah, it was a +good idea and if things broke right he’d write to one of the papers and +tell them all about it. Only the postmark would give him away. Not so +good. Well, anyway, he could tell Sansotta about it.</p> + +<p>Rico got on a street-car.</p> + +<p>“Well, how’s things?” he said to the conductor.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said the conductor; “getting cooler, ain’t it? Reckon +we’ll have winter before we know it.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico.</p> + +<h3>II</h3> + +<p class="dcap">RICO went up the alley at the side of Sansotta’s place and knocked at +the back door. It was a long time before somebody came and took a look +at him through the shutter. A voice with a marked Italian accent said:</p> + +<p>“Who are you?”</p> + +<p>“Where’s Sansotta?” asked Rico.</p> + +<p>“What do you care?”</p> + +<p>“Listen, buddy,” said Rico, “don’t get all het <span class="pagenum" id="Page_269" role="doc-pagebreak">269</span>up. I’m right. Go +tell Sansotta that Cesare wants him.”</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the door opened and a hand motioned for Rico to come +in. The hall was dark and Rico stumbled going up the stairs. The +look-out took hold of his arm.</p> + +<p>“The boss’s up in his room. I’ll take you up. Where you from, buddy?”</p> + +<p>“Youngstown,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Where’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Over east.”</p> + +<p>The look-out led Rico down a long, dark hallway and to a door at the +end of it. Light showed over a transom. The look-out knocked three +times and the door was opened. Rico went in.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Sansotta, locking the door, “here you are?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Sansotta was a small, bowlegged Italian with a dark, scarred face. He +had on a striped suit, brown and red, and a stiff collar the points +of which were so high that his chin rested on them. There was a big +diamond stud in his shirtfront.</p> + +<p>“You must’ve got a break,” said Sansotta.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_270" role="doc-pagebreak">270</span>Rico explained how he had got away.</p> + +<p>“Pretty nifty,” said Sansotta; “I got to hand it to you on that, +Cesare.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “it was a good idea.”</p> + +<p>Sansotta went over to a table, opened a drawer and took out a handbill +which he gave to Rico. Rico smiled.</p> + +<p>“Raised the ante, did they? Last I heard it was five grand.”</p> + +<p>Rico read the handbill over and over and stared at the Bertillon +pictures.</p> + +<p>“Them pictures don’t look like me,” he said.</p> + +<p>Sansotta pursed his lips and scrutinized them.</p> + +<p>“Not since you got the tickler off. No, and you look thinner in them +pictures. How long ago was they taken?”</p> + +<p>“About seven years ago.”</p> + +<p>The handbill read:</p> + +<blockquote> +<p>Wanted for murder: Cesare Bandello, known as Rico. Age: 29. Height: 5 +ft. 5 in. Weight: 125. Complexion: pale. Hair: black and wavy. Eyes: +light, gray or blue. His face is thin and he walks with one foot +slightly turned in. Does not take up with strangers. Solitary type, +morose and dangerous. <span class="pagenum" id="Page_271" role="doc-pagebreak">271</span>Reward: $5000, offered by management of +Casa Alvarado. $2000, offered by City of Chicago, for capture dead or +alive.</p> +</blockquote> + +<p>“Well,” said Sansotta, “where you headed for?”</p> + +<p>“I’m gonna stick around here for a while,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Sansotta; “pretty close to trouble, ain’t it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Rico, “they ain’t got any idea which way I went. I +got a big stake and I don’t have to worry none.”</p> + +<p>“You sure went up fast over in the big burg,” said Sansotta, looking at +Rico with a sort of awe.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “and the hell of it was, I was just getting started. +Everything was on the up and up when one of the gang turned softie. +Ain’t that hell?”</p> + +<p>Rico had been very much elated over his escape from Chicago, so elated +in fact that he had forgotten all about his troubles; but, now that the +excitement of the escape had passed, the thought of how much he had +lost struck him full force. He felt resentful.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_272" role="doc-pagebreak">272</span>“Yeah,” said Sansotta, “that’s the way it goes. It’s a tough game. +They picked up two of my men last night.”</p> + +<p>“That so?” said Rico, paying no attention.</p> + +<p>Sansotta got up.</p> + +<p>“Well, Cesare,” he said, “I got business or I’d stick around and chin +with you. Want to stay here with me till things blow over?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico.</p> + +<h3>III</h3> + +<p class="dcap">NIGHT after night Rico lay awake looking at the arc light outside his +window. His mind was filled with resentment and he went over and over +the incidents which had led to his fall. Now that it was too late, he +saw the mistakes he had made. He should have plugged Gentleman Joe; +that’s all. When a guy begins to turn softie, why there ain’t no good +in him. Yeah, he had been too easy. Another thing. He should have +played Scabby up; that guy was in a position to do him all kinds of +favors. But Scabby was a hard guy to get along with; he always thought +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273" role="doc-pagebreak">273</span>somebody was trying to make a fool of him and he always had a chip +on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>Sometimes Rico would fall asleep for a little while, but his sleep was +full of dreams and he would toss from side to side and wake up with a +start. Then he would get up and smoke one cigarette after another and +think about Montana and Little Arnie and the Big Boy. Often, in these +short naps, he would see The Greek lying on his back in the alley, or +the little Italian girl sweeping the hall, or Ma Magdalena helping him +put the grease on his face. Then he would awake in confusion and stare +at the unfamiliar arc light a long time before he could realize where +he was.</p> + +<p>In the day time it wasn’t so bad. He could play cards with Sansotta and +some of his gang, or shoot crap on a pool table in the back room. Rico +always played to win and while the game was in progress he forgot his +troubles. But even this was but a partial alleviation. He was nobody. +Just an unknown wop who seemed to have unlimited resources. Sansotta +was the only one who knew who he was. He had taken his uncle’s name, +Luigi De Angelo, and around Sansotta’s he was <span class="pagenum" id="Page_274" role="doc-pagebreak">274</span>called Youngstown +Louis, or usually plain Louis. No, he was nobody. When a card game got +hot and one of the players thought he was getting gypped, a look from +Rico did not quiet the tumult as it had done in Little Italy. A look +from Rico meant nothing. He was cursed with the rest of them. Often the +desire to show these two-bit wops who they were yelling at would make +him writhe in his chair, and his hand would move toward his armpit, +but he couldn’t risk it. He had his neck to think about, and there was +Sansotta, a good guy, doing what he could for him. Rico kept saying to +himself, you are nobody, nobody, but it was galling.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he would go to his room early and just sit in the dark and +think. He would imagine himself in the Big Boy’s wonderful apartment; +he would see the big pictures of the old time guys in their gold +frames, the one grand crockery, and the library full of books; or he +would recall the night when Little Arnie’s Detroit toughs tried to bump +him off and how when he came back to The Palermo the people stood on +the chairs and shouted: “Rico! Rico!” God, it was hard to take!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275" role="doc-pagebreak">275</span>The stories in the magazines about swell society people that he +used to read with such eagerness failed to interest him now. After a +paragraph or two he would fling the magazine aside and swear.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he would say, “ain’t that great! The damn dressed-up softies. +Got everything in the world and never had to turn a hand for it.”</p> + +<p>Rico was filled with resentment and when he spoke, rarely now, it was +to denounce or ridicule something. The wops around Sansotta’s, though +they were obtuse enough, were not long in noticing this, and Rico began +to be known as Crabby Louis.</p> + +<p>They would say: “Well, Crabby Louis, it’s your shot;” or “All right, +Crabby, deal the cards.”</p> + +<p>The only thing that really interested Rico was the trial of Sam +Vettori. Joe Massara, who had turned State’s evidence, had been +sentenced to life. “Lord,” said Rico, when he read Joe’s sentence, +“I never thought they’d give Gentleman Joe a jolt like that after he +turned State’s. Them boys means business.” Sam’s trial had been rushed +because of the hubbub raised by Mr. McClure <span class="pagenum" id="Page_276" role="doc-pagebreak">276</span>and other influential +men, and the outcome was never in doubt. Sam Vettori was sentenced to +be hanged.</p> + +<p>When Rico read the verdict he lay back in his chair and looked at the +wall.</p> + +<p>“Well, old Sam had a long whack at it,” he said; “never seen the inside +of a prison in his life. A guy’s luck’s bound to turn.”</p> + +<p>Then he went over in his mind the robbery of the Casa Alvarado and all +the steps which had led to his own rise and fall.</p> + +<p>“It made me and it broke me,” he said.</p> + +<p>On New Year’s Eve Rico dressed up more than usual and went down into +Sansotta’s cabaret. It was jammed and unable to get a seat he went into +Sansotta’s office and had one of the waiters bring him a meal. He sat +with the door open and watched the antics on the dance-floor. There was +plenty of liquor about and the crowd was pretty rough. Rico saw a big +blonde dancing with a fat Italian. She gave him a look and he motioned +for her to come in the office. She nodded. Rico got up and closed the +door. In a few minutes the Blonde came in.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_277" role="doc-pagebreak">277</span>“Well, kid,” she said, “what’s on your mind?”</p> + +<p>“I got a room upstairs,” said Rico, “that ain’t occupied.”</p> + +<p>“The hell you have,” said the Blonde.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “and I got a bank roll that ain’t got any strings on +it.”</p> + +<p>“Now you’re talking,” said the Blonde, putting her arm around Rico.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “let’s go.”</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said the Blonde, “I’ll be back after while. I got a guy out +here that’s plenty tough and I got to humor him.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, hell,” said Rico, “I’ll take that toughness out of him. Stick +around.”</p> + +<p>The Blonde looked at Rico and laughed.</p> + +<p>“Say,” she said, “you ain’t big enough to talk so big.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Rico, resentful, “I ain’t so big.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, honey,” said the Blonde, “this boy would eat you alive.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>The fat Italian opened the door and came in.</p> + +<p>“What’s the idea, Micky?” he said to the Blonde.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278" role="doc-pagebreak">278</span>“Why, I just happened to bump into an old friend of mine,” said +the Blonde, scared.</p> + +<p>Rico got up and stood looking at the fat Italian.</p> + +<p>“What’s it to you!” he said.</p> + +<p>“Why, listen, kid,” said the fat Italian, “you better go get your +big brother cause if you make any more cracks I’m gonna dust off the +furniture with you.”</p> + +<p>The Blonde took the fat Italian by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Paul,” she said, “let’s go dance.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “take that bird away before something happens to +him.”</p> + +<p>The fat Italian pulled away from the Blonde and started toward Rico.</p> + +<p>“That’s one crack too many,” he said.</p> + +<p>But Rico, standing with his back against Sansotta’s desk, perfectly +calm, reached under his armpit and pulled his gun. The fat Italian +hesitated and looked bewildered.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “kind of lost your steam, didn’t you?”</p> + +<p>The fat Italian turned and looked at the Blonde.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279" role="doc-pagebreak">279</span>“That’s a nice boy friend you got,” he said.</p> + +<p>The Blonde stood there with her mouth open.</p> + +<p>“All right, big boy,” said Rico, “we can get along without you.”</p> + +<p>Sansotta opened the door and stood looking from one to the other.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter, Paul?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>The fat Italian pointed at Rico.</p> + +<p>“That bird there tried to grab my girl, and when I told him about it he +pulled a gat on me.”</p> + +<p>Sansotta’s face darkened.</p> + +<p>“Put that gun up, Louis,” he said, staring hard at Rico; “where you +think you’re at? Listen, Paul, Louis’s a new guy here and he don’t know +the ropes.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said the fat Italian, “he sure is quick with a gun.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right, Paul,” said the Blonde, laughing, “he needs a +handicap.”</p> + +<p>Rico, furious, put on his hat and started to go. But Sansotta said:</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute, Louis, I want to see you.” Then turning to the fat +Italian: “I’m sure sorry <span class="pagenum" id="Page_280" role="doc-pagebreak">280</span>this happened, but you know how it is +when a guy don’t know the ropes, he’ll butt in where it ain’t healthy +to butt in, see? Louis’s all right, but he’s got a bad temper.”</p> + +<p>“Ain’t he!” said Paul. “Well, I guess we better be moving up town. I +ain’t any too anxious to hang around where you’re liable to get bumped +off.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, stick around, Paul,” Sansotta implored; “you won’t have no more +trouble.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Paul, “I’ll be moving. Come on, Micky. I seen about all of +your boy friend that I want to see.”</p> + +<p>Sansotta followed them out into the cabaret, trying to <span class="corr" id="corr280" title="Source: pursuade">persuade</span> them +to remain, but Paul went over to the check-window and got their wraps. +Rico sat down and went on with his meal. Sansotta came in and slammed +the door after him.</p> + +<p>“Goddam you, Cesare,” he cried, “why don’t you be more careful? That +guy is Paolo, the political boss. He can close me up tomorrow if he +wants to.”</p> + +<p>“Take it easy,” said Rico; “how the hell did <span class="pagenum" id="Page_281" role="doc-pagebreak">281</span>I know? You think I’m +gonna let a guy take a bust at me?”</p> + +<p>Sansotta took out a cigar and began to chew on it.</p> + +<p>“Cesare,” he said, “you got to be moving. I can’t have you hanging +around here no more. It’s too dangerous.”</p> + +<p>Rico dropped his fork and stared at Sansotta.</p> + +<p>“Giving me the go-by, hunh?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Sansotta, “you got to be moving.”</p> + +<p>Rico got to his feet and stood looking at Sansotta.</p> + +<p>“Just on account of a small town ward-heeler,” he said; “why that guy +couldn’t boss a section gang. You’re a hell of a guy, Sansotta. After +all the jack I spent in this dump.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t help that,” said Sansotta, “you got to be moving right away.”</p> + +<p>Rico laughed.</p> + +<p>“Don’t get funny,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you get funny,” said Sansotta; “you ain’t in no shape to get +funny.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe you better call the bulls and turn me up,” said Rico.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282" role="doc-pagebreak">282</span>“Well,” said Sansotta, “you got to be moving, that’s all.”</p> + +<h3>IV</h3> + +<p class="dcap">RICO was acutely conscious of his position. A lonely Youngstown yegg +in a hostile city without friends or influence. Yeah, funny! Just a +no-account yap in a burg like Hammond and not four months ago he had +been a big guy in a big burg.</p> + +<p>He put on his ulster and went out. The wind was cold and it was +snowing. He walked around for a while, keeping to the dark streets, +then, chilled through, he went into a little Italian restaurant for a +cup of coffee and a sandwich.</p> + +<p>The waiter, an Italian boy with a handsome dark face, brought Rico his +food. When he set it down on the table he grinned and said:</p> + +<p>“Well, happy New Year.”</p> + +<p>Rico looked up in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” he said, “thanks.”</p> + +<p>He felt better. This anonymous friendliness cheered him up. While he +was eating, he watched <span class="pagenum" id="Page_283" role="doc-pagebreak">283</span>the Italian boy, who was wiping off the +counter and singing.</p> + +<p>“Nice kid,” thought Rico.</p> + +<p>When Rico had finished his coffee, he lit a cigarette and sat smoking. +He felt comfortable. Looking around the restaurant, he saw that there +was a mechanical piano up front. Like Pete’s!</p> + +<p>“Say,” he called, “let’s have a little music.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said the boy.</p> + +<p>He put a slug in the piano. It played <cite class="normal">Farewell To Thee</cite> in tremolo. Rico +felt sad. He called the boy back and gave him a dollar.</p> + +<p>“Keep the change, kid,” he said.</p> + +<p>The mechanical piano stopped on a discord, and Rico got to his feet. +While he was putting on his coat two men came in the front door. One of +them went up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee, but the other +stopped and stood staring at Rico.</p> + +<p>Rico, noticing the man’s scrutiny, put his hand inside his coat and +started out, but the man touched him on the shoulder and whispered:</p> + +<p>“Things ain’t going so good, are they, Rico?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284" role="doc-pagebreak">284</span>Rico stared at the man and demanded:</p> + +<p>“Who the hell are you?”</p> + +<p>Then he recognized him. It was Little Arnie’s doorman, Joseph +Pavlovsky, one of the guys he had chased.</p> + +<p>“I’m one of Arnie’s boys,” said Pavlovsky; “I been in Hammond ever +since you gave us the rush.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Straight,” said Pavlovsky. “I been in the beer racket over here and I +cleaned up. I’m going back to the big burg next month.”</p> + +<p>Rico envied him.</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“You sure pulled one on ’em, Rico,” said Pavlovsky; “you always was a +smart boy, Rico.”</p> + +<p>“Aw, can that,” said Rico, and, pulling away from Pavlovsky, he went +out.</p> + +<p>The wind was blowing hard now and it had stopped snowing. Rico turned +up his coat collar and started toward Sansotta’s. But he hadn’t gone +half a block when he realized that he was being followed. He turned +just in time to see two men pass under an arclight.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285" role="doc-pagebreak">285</span>“It’s Little Arnie’s boy,” he said, “looking for seven grand.”</p> + +<p>Rico took out his gun, got behind a telephone pole, and fired a warning +shot. The two men ran for cover and Rico ducked down an alley, ran for +two blocks, then turned up another alley and doubled back. He had lost +them.</p> + +<p>When the look-out let him in he said:</p> + +<p>“Louis, the boss wants to see you.”</p> + +<p>Rico went up to Sansotta’s room.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he said to Sansotta.</p> + +<p>“Cesare,” said Sansotta, “a friend of mine is pulling out for Toledo +tomorrow night. He’ll take you for fifty bucks.”</p> + +<p>“What’s his game?”</p> + +<p>“Running dope.”</p> + +<p>“It’s O.K. with me,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Rico went up to his room, took off his overcoat, and flung himself down +on the bed. He’d have to pull out now whether he wanted to or not.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_286" role="doc-pagebreak">286</div> + +<h3>V</h3> + +<p class="dcap">THE dope-runner dropped Rico at the edge of town. It was about five +o’clock in the morning and still dark. A heavy fog had come in from +Lake Erie and a damp, cold wind was blowing. Rico walked up and down to +keep warm while waiting for a car. He felt pretty low.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico, “right back where I started from.”</p> + +<p>The headlight on the street-car cut through the fog. The motorman +didn’t see Rico and ran past him.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t that a break?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>There wouldn’t be another car for half an hour. Rico decided to walk. +He turned up his coat collar against the damp wind and lit a cigar. His +mind was full of resentment. Yeah, by God, a lousy street-car wouldn’t +even stop for him.</p> + +<p>Rico got a room at a bachelor’s hotel on the waterfront, and went to +bed. It was about five o’clock in the evening when he woke up. He +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287" role="doc-pagebreak">287</span>doused his face at the washstand, put on his overcoat, and went +out.</p> + +<p>He ate at a little Italian restaurant where he and Otero used to split +a bowl of soup when things were going bad. But the place had changed. +New management, new waiters, new everything. Toledo seemed small and +dingy and quiet to Rico. He was a little bit puzzled.</p> + +<p>“Didn’t used to be like this,” he said.</p> + +<p>As soon as he finished his meal he walked over to Chiggi’s, which was +about two blocks away. But the place was dark and when Rico went up to +the door to peer in he saw that it had been padlocked by the Federal +Authorities.</p> + +<p>“Ain’t that a break?” he said.</p> + +<p>He had no place to go.</p> + +<p>There was a fruit store next to Chiggi’s and Rico went in. A little +Italian girl came to wait on him.</p> + +<p>“Listen, sister,” said Rico, “you know where Chiggi is now?”</p> + +<p>“I get my grandfather,” she said.</p> + +<p>She went into the back of the store and returned <span class="pagenum" id="Page_288" role="doc-pagebreak">288</span>with an old +Italian who had crinkly gray hair and wore earrings.</p> + +<p>“Listen, mister,” said Rico, “could you tell me where Chiggi is now?”</p> + +<p>The old man just looked at him. Rico felt a little uneasy.</p> + +<p>“No speak English?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the old man, “I speak good English. What do you want with +Chiggi?”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “Chiggi used to be a pal of mine, but I been away +for three or four years and now I don’t know where to find him.”</p> + +<p>“Chiggi has had trouble,” said the old man; “he is in the prison.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico. “Atlanta, hunh?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the old man, “Chiggi is in Atlanta. It is too bad. Chiggi +was good to the poor. When my wife was sick and my business was not +going good, Chiggi gave me money.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico. “Chiggi staked me too.”</p> + +<p>Rico took out a cigar and gave it to the old man.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he went on, “do you know where any of Chiggi’s old bunch is?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_289" role="doc-pagebreak">289</span>“Yes,” said the old man, “Chiggi’s boy has got a place a couple of +blocks from here.”</p> + +<p>The old man wrote down the address for Rico.</p> + +<p>Young Chiggi was a dressed-up wop and thought he was a lot better than +his father. He wouldn’t even wait on a customer but sat all day in the +back of his joint reading the Police Gazette or playing solitaire. +Things were breaking good for Young Chiggi and he was thinking about +selling out and going to Chicago or Detroit.</p> + +<p>He had been in the beer and alcohol racket for over three years, first +with his father, then by himself, and now with Bill Hackett, known as +Chicago Red. He bought diamonds and automobiles and he kept his woman +in a big apartment.</p> + +<p>When Rico was shown into his office by one of his bartenders, he didn’t +even look up but went on with his game of solitaire. The bartender went +out and Rico sat down across from Young Chiggi.</p> + +<p>“Chiggi,” said Rico, “I want to talk to you a minute.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi didn’t look up.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290" role="doc-pagebreak">290</span>“All right,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” said Rico, “put them cards down. I want to talk business.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi looked up and stared at Rico.</p> + +<p>“Say,” he said, “where the hell do you get that stuff! I don’t know +you.”</p> + +<p>“Your old man was a pal of mine,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Well, Buddy,” said Chiggi, “that don’t help you none with me, ’cause +me and the old man had a split-up. He thought he was so damn wise, see, +but they got him behind the bars and I’m running loose.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico, “well, that’s a tough break for the old man. You +see, your old man staked me once and I thought I’d look him up and get +even. I’m pretty well heeled right now and I’m looking for a place to +lay in.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi looked at Rico with interest.</p> + +<p>“Looking for a place to lay in, hunh? Bulls after you?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Chiggi put his cards away. Then he took out a couple of cigars and +offered Rico one. They sat smoking.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291" role="doc-pagebreak">291</span>“Well,” said Chiggi, “maybe I can take care of you.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the talk,” said Rico; “got some rooms up above?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Chiggi, “but a friend of mine’s got a boarding house next +door that’s O.K. Now about that jack the old man staked you to, you can +give it to me, ’cause he owes me plenty.”</p> + +<p>Rico said nothing, but took out his fold and counted out a hundred and +fifty dollars. He knew he had to buy his way in.</p> + +<p>Rico selected his room carefully. It was on the side of the house and +could not be reached from the outside as there were no porches near +it. It had two doors, one opening into the front hall, one into the +back hall. The doors themselves were heavy and could be barred from the +inside. It was a good hide-out.</p> + +<p>Rico’s plans were vague. He had plenty of money and if he went easy +with it he would be able to live a year or more in comparative comfort. +But Rico could not bear the thought of a year of inactivity. What would +he do with himself? He had no vices. He couldn’t amuse himself <span class="pagenum" id="Page_292" role="doc-pagebreak">292</span>by +getting drunk, or taking dope, or playing faro. He didn’t mind losing +a couple hundred dollars gambling occasionally, but you can’t put in a +whole year gambling. He thought if things went right that maybe he’d +move on to New York, but that would be risky and one slip and he was +gone. No, he didn’t see much ahead of him.</p> + +<p>Rico spent most of the day in his room, lying on the bed reading, or +else going over and over in his mind the episodes leading to his rise +and fall. The resentment he had been experiencing ever since he got to +Hammond had grown till it had become almost an obsession. He was never +in a good humor. When he was not reading or thinking about Chicago he +would pace up and down his room and wait for night. He got so, finally, +that he could sleep twelve hours every day and this helped some.</p> + +<p>At night he would go down to Chiggi’s and play pool or shoot crap. +Sometimes there would be a big poker game and he would sit in. He was +known as Youngstown Louis and nobody in the place had the slightest +idea who he really was.</p> + +<p>Everything was against Rico. The very virtues <span class="pagenum" id="Page_293" role="doc-pagebreak">293</span>that had been +responsible for his rise were liabilities in his present situation. He +had no outlet for his energy; the self-discipline which had marked him +out from his fellows was of no use to him here; and the tenacity of +purpose that had kept him at high tension while he was the Vettori gang +chief had no object to expend itself on.</p> + +<p>“I am nobody, nobody,” Rico would say.</p> + +<p>Sometimes at night he would go to one of the call-houses on a nearby +street and spend a couple of hours with one of the women. But he got +very little pleasure from these infrequent debauches. He used to wonder +what had happened to the blonde he had spent old Chiggi’s stake on, and +was positive that if he could find her it would do him a lot of good, +but she had disappeared and nobody had any idea where she had gone.</p> + +<p>Rico tried to buy his way in. Chiggi was agreeable but Chicago Red was +not. Chicago Red had taken a dislike to Rico from the first and never +missed an opportunity of bullying him. Chicago Red had left Chicago +under a cloud. There was <span class="pagenum" id="Page_294" role="doc-pagebreak">294</span>a rumor that he had got in bad with a +South Side gang over there and had left to keep from getting bumped +off. Red was over six feet tall and weighed about two hundred pounds; +he had muscles like a wrestler, a bull neck, and enormous hairy hands.</p> + +<p>Rico kept away from him as much as possible to avoid trouble. But Red +seemed to take a delight in worrying Rico, probably because, despite +the fact that Rico never argued with him, always let him have his way, +he felt that Rico was not impressed.</p> + +<p>One night there was a big poker game going on in Chiggi’s back room. +Rico was winning. About midnight Red came in and wanted to sit in, but +there was no place for him.</p> + +<p>“Louis,” he said, “get the hell off that chair and let a man get in the +game.”</p> + +<p>“Not a chance,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Dago....” said Red.</p> + +<p>“Don’t call me, Dago,” said Rico, looking hard at Red.</p> + +<p>“Get off that chair or I’ll throw you off,” said Red starting toward +Rico.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_295" role="doc-pagebreak">295</span>But Chiggi grabbed Red from behind and pulled him into the next +room.</p> + +<p>When the game broke up, Chiggi came in and said to Rico:</p> + +<p>“When you get settled up, come in the office.”</p> + +<p>After the other players had gone Rico went into Chiggi’s office. Red +was sitting with his feet on the desk and Chiggi was walking up and +down.</p> + +<p>“Well, Dago,” said Red, “did you clean ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Louis,” said Chiggi; “we want to talk to you.”</p> + +<p>Rico sat down.</p> + +<p>“Louis,” said Chiggi, “I don’t know whether you’re wised up or not, +but we been hitting the rocks. The bulls got two of our men and a big +load of alcohol, and a couple of days ago another one of our carts got +hijacked at Monroe. See, so we’re pretty low.”</p> + +<p>“Yeah?” said Rico.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Chiggi, “we want a stake, don’t we, Red?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296" role="doc-pagebreak">296</span>“Yeah,” said Red, “and we ain’t any too particular where we get +it.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, getting up, “you got a lot of guys around here. Ask +them.”</p> + +<p>“Listen, Red,” said Chiggi, “you keep your goddam lip out of this.”</p> + +<p>Red got to his feet suddenly and stood glaring at Chiggi.</p> + +<p>“Why, you lousy small-time wop, I guess you don’t know who you’re +talking to, do you?” He raised his arm and pointed at Rico. “You see +that guy there, he thinks he’s the best there is, got it? He thinks +he’s the biggest dago outside of Italy, and here you go honeying after +him like we couldn’t get a stake no place else. But I ain’t begging no +goddam dago to stake me.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi looked helplessly at Rico.</p> + +<p>“Yeah,” said Red, “and while we’re talking, I’m getting sick of the way +that bird there sits around and don’t say nothing and acts like he was +God-only-knows-who. Yeah, I’m getting good and sick of it, Chiggi.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Chiggi, “when you get real sick of it, why beat it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_297" role="doc-pagebreak">297</span>Red laughed.</p> + +<p>“Gonna stick to your dago buddy, are you? Well, he’s got the jack. But +what’re you gonna do when you need a guy that’s got the guts?”</p> + +<p>This was too much for Rico. He said:</p> + +<p>“What do you know about guts? I guess you ain’t so tough or they +wouldn’t’ve run you out of Chi.”</p> + +<p>“Will you listen to that!” said Red; “all right, buddy, you said your +piece and you sure spoke out of turn. Why, dago, where I come from you +wouldn’t live five minutes. Now I’m gonna show you how they treat smart +dagos in Chi.”</p> + +<p>Red made a motion toward his coat pocket, but Rico beat him to it. He +pulled his gun from the holster under his armpit and covered Red.</p> + +<p>“Red,” he said, “in Chicago I wouldn’t let you rob filling-stations for +me.”</p> + +<p>Red stood with his hands up, looking from Rico to Chiggi.</p> + +<p>“Don’t bump him off, Louis,” said Chiggi.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t waste a bullet on him,” said Rico; then glaring at Red he +went on: “You been getting <span class="pagenum" id="Page_298" role="doc-pagebreak">298</span>away with this rough stuff too long, +Red. I’m Cesare Bandello!”</p> + +<p>Red’s mouth fell open and he stood staring at Rico. Chiggi took Rico by +the arm.</p> + +<p>“Are you Rico?” he cried.</p> + +<p>Rico nodded and put up his gun. Red dropped his hands, sank into a +chair and wiped the sweat from his face.</p> + +<p>“You sit down, Chiggi,” said Rico, “and I’ll do the talking.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi sat down.</p> + +<p>“Lord,” said Red, “so you’re Rico? Steve Gollancz told me you was a big +fellow.”</p> + +<p>“Steve never seen me,” said Rico.</p> + +<p>Chiggi leaned forward eagerly.</p> + +<p>“You gonna put in with us, Louis?”</p> + +<p>Rico said:</p> + +<p>“I’ll put in a third, but I got to boss the works or I won’t put in +nothing.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi looked at Red.</p> + +<p>“That’s O.K. with me,” said Red.</p> + +<p>Chiggi got to his feet and danced a few steps.</p> + +<p>“Hurray for us,” he cried.</p> + +<div class="pagenum" id="Page_299" role="doc-pagebreak">299</div> + +<h3>VI</h3> + +<p class="dcap">UNDER Rico’s guidance Chiggi’s gang prospered. Chicago Red, +impressed by Rico’s reputation, carried out his orders and never +argued; Chiggi also. And Chiggi’s men were influenced by the attitude +of their former bosses. Rico made decisions quickly, seldom asked +for advice, and was nearly always right. Chiggi and Red were used to +doing things on a small scale and hated to split with the authorities, +but Rico had been in the game long enough to know that to make money +you’ve got to spend money. Through Antonio Rizzio, one of Old Chiggi’s +friends, now a minor politician, Rico got in touch with some of the +high-ups and bought protection. Chiggi’s alcohol runners were no +longer picked up and in a little while Chiggi’s business had doubled. +But, due to this increase in business, a new difficulty had risen: +hijackers. They waylaid Chiggi’s men and robbed them of their cargoes. +There was a well-organized gang of them around Monroe, Michigan, and +they began to cut into <span class="pagenum" id="Page_300" role="doc-pagebreak">300</span>Chiggi’s profits. Rico tried rerouting his +runners and this was successful for a month or two, but the Monroe +gang soon got on to it, and the trouble started over again. Rico took +a chance. He ordered three sho-sho guns from a firm in Chicago. These +small automatic rifles, as formidable as machine guns, were concealed +in special cases under the seats of the trucks. Rico instructed his +runners in the use of them and after a few encounters the Monroe gang +decided that it would be more lucrative and also safer to confine their +hijacking to smaller bootleggers who were not equipped with artillery.</p> + +<p>Rico was pleased with his success, but hardly satisfied. This was small +stuff and, as he could take no active part in it, he had a good deal +of time on his hands. Of course he was a pretty big guy for Toledo +and around Chiggi’s he was king, but, after all, Chiggi’s boys were a +mighty poor lot, worse even than Little Arnie’s, and their adulation +wasn’t worth much.</p> + +<p>But that wasn’t the worst of it Rico knew that he had blundered badly +in revealing his identity to Chiggi and Chicago Red. Neither of them +was <span class="pagenum" id="Page_301" role="doc-pagebreak">301</span>very dependable. Chiggi talked incessantly, contradicting +himself, forgetting what he had said two minutes after he had said it; +and all this talk was directed at one object: self-glorification. An +association with Cesare Bandello, of Chicago, was something to brag +about and Rico knew it. Chicago Red as a rule was not very talkative, +but when he got drunk he would boast about his former connection with +Steve Gollancz. Rico feared them both. Sometimes when the three of them +were alone together he would caution them. There was only one thing +that reassured Rico. Chiggi’s prosperity depended on him, and Rico knew +that both Chicago Red and Chiggi were aware of it.</p> + +<p>At about seven o’clock one night Rico went out for supper. He ate at +the little Italian restaurant where he and Otero used to split a bowl +of soup when things were bad. He always sat facing the front door at a +table in the back of the place. In this position he could see everyone +who came in and also he could keep an eye on the people at the tables. +On his right and a couple of feet ahead of him was a little window +which looked out on <span class="pagenum" id="Page_302" role="doc-pagebreak">302</span>an alley. While Rico was finishing his coffee +he happened to glance at the window. When he did, a face which had been +pressed against the window-pane was hastily withdrawn. Rico got up, put +on his hat and paid his check.</p> + +<p>“I’m going out the back way,” he said to the counterman.</p> + +<p>“O.K., boss.”</p> + +<p>“If anybody comes in here and asks for Louis De Angelo take a good look +at him.”</p> + +<p>“All right, boss,” said the counterman.</p> + +<p>Rico went out through the kitchen door, which opened onto a little +cement court where the refuse from the restaurant was dumped. The big +garbage cans along the wall were in the shadow and, as Rico stepped +out, a man jumped up from behind one of the cans and put a gun against +him. Rico threw himself to the ground, the gun exploded harmlessly, and +the man made a break for the alley, stumbling over the cans. Rico fired +from a prone position and missed. Then he jumped to his feet and ran +out into the alley. The man had disappeared.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_303" role="doc-pagebreak">303</span>“God,” said Rico, “if that boy didn’t almost pull one on me.”</p> + +<p>One of the cooks opened the back door and put his head out.</p> + +<p>“What the hell!” he said.</p> + +<p>“Damned if I know,” said Rico; “a couple of guys was popping at each +other out here in the alley.”</p> + +<p>“Some of them bootleggers,” said the cook.</p> + +<p>Rico took a cab back to Chiggi’s. He was very much perturbed. Whoever +that boy was he certainly meant business.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Rico, “somebody has sure spilled something.”</p> + +<p>As soon as he came in Chiggi rushed up to him and grabbed him by the +arm.</p> + +<p>“Louis,” he said, “Red’s drunk and we can’t do nothing with him.”</p> + +<p>Rico stared at Chiggi.</p> + +<p>“Where’s he been?”</p> + +<p>“Why,” said Chiggi, “he’s been on a bat with some Chicago guys.”</p> + +<p>“Hell,” cried Rico, “where is he?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_304" role="doc-pagebreak">304</span>Chiggi led Rico back into one of the private rooms. Red was +sitting at a table with a half empty quart of whiskey on the table +beside him. When he saw Rico he cried:</p> + +<p>“If it ain’t old Rico himself! By God, I been drinking all day. I can +hardly see but nobody can put me under the table, ain’t that so, boss? +Yes sir, I’d like to see the bastard that could drink Rico’s buddy +under the table.”</p> + +<p>Rico turned to Chiggi.</p> + +<p>“A guy tried to pop me over at Frank’s. This bird has spilled +something. I got to be moving.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi’s eyes got big.</p> + +<p>“You gonna pull out, Louis?”</p> + +<p>“I got to,” said Rico; “somebody’s looking for that seven grand.”</p> + +<p>“Jesus, Louis,” said Chiggi, “what we gonna do without you?”</p> + +<p>“Best you can,” said Rico. “Go get me a cab, Chiggi, I’m moving right +now.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi went out of the room. Rico took Red by the shoulders and shook +him. Red blinked his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305" role="doc-pagebreak">305</span>“Red,” said Rico, “was you on a bat with some Chicago guys?”</p> + +<p>“Was I?” cried Red; “spent a hundred bucks on them birds.”</p> + +<p>“Any of them know me?”</p> + +<p>Red rolled his head from side to side, and sang, then he smashed his +fists down on the table.</p> + +<p>“Rico,” he said, “old Red’s going back to the big burg, yes sir, old +Red’s tired of this tank town. Old Red’s got a good stake now and he’s +moving. They run me out once but I ain’t scairt of them no more. I’m +going back and show ’em who Red Hackett is. Yeah bo!”</p> + +<p>Rico shook him.</p> + +<p>“Listen, Red,” he said, “did any of them birds know me?”</p> + +<p>Red lolled his head, trying to focus his eyes on Rico.</p> + +<p>“One of them guys was a personal friend of yours,” said Red; “fact, he +asked me if you wasn’t laying up here, see, he knew all right; wasn’t +no harm in telling him nothing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_306" role="doc-pagebreak">306</span>“Who was he?” shouted Rico.</p> + +<p>Red thought for a moment then he said:</p> + +<p>“I can’t seem to remember. He’s a wop, all right, a bald-headed wop.”</p> + +<p>“Scabby!” Rico exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Good God, wasn’t that a break! Scabby hated him and Scabby would sell +his own mother out for a split on seven grand. Rico felt resentful. +Just his damn luck to get mixed up with a bunch of yellow-bellies and +softies.</p> + +<p>Chiggi came in.</p> + +<p>“Cab out in front, Louis,” he said.</p> + +<p>Rico pointed at Red.</p> + +<p>“That guy spilled the works. For two bits I’d bump him off.”</p> + +<p>Rico was furious. He made a move toward his armpit, but one of the +bartenders opened the door and yelled:</p> + +<p>“The bulls!”</p> + +<p>“What!” cried Rico.</p> + +<p>The bartender was trembling all over and his face was white.</p> + +<p>“Police car out in front, boss.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307" role="doc-pagebreak">307</span>Rico made a dive for the door but Chiggi grabbed him by the arm.</p> + +<p>“Out the back, Louis.”</p> + +<p>Chiggi leapt across the room and pulled a switch and all the lights in +the place went out. Then he took Rico by the arm and led him through +the hall and out into a little court at the rear.</p> + +<p>“So long, Louis,” he said.</p> + +<p>Chiggi slammed the door. Rico was in utter darkness.</p> + +<p>“A hell of a chance I got,” he said.</p> + +<p>He stepped cautiously out into the alley back of the court and took a +look around. The alley was blind to his right; to his left it came out +onto a main thoroughfare and there was a bright arc light at that end. +Rico took out his gun and moved slowly toward the arc light.</p> + +<p>“You can’t never tell,” he said; then, in an excess of rage: “They’ll +never put no cuffs on this baby.”</p> + +<p>When he was within fifty feet of the main thoroughfare a man appeared +at the end of the alley <span class="pagenum" id="Page_308" role="doc-pagebreak">308</span>way, a big man in a derby hat. He saw Rico +and immediately blew a blast on his whistle. Rico raised his gun and +pulled the trigger; it missed fire.</p> + +<p>Rico was frantic. He wanted to live. For the first time in his life he +addressed a vague power which he felt to be stronger than himself.</p> + +<p>“Give me a break! Give me a break!” he implored.</p> + +<p>The man in the derby hat raised his arm and Rico rushed him, pumping +lead. Rico saw a long spurt of flame and then something hit him a +sledge-hammer blow in the chest. He took two steps, dropped his gun, +and fell flat on his face. He heard a rush of feet up the alley.</p> + +<p>“Mother of God,” he said, “is this the end of Rico?”</p> +</section> + +<hr aria-hidden="true" class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<section role="doc-chapter" aria-labelledby="idnote-hd" class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote" id="Transcribers_Notes"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="idnote-hd">Transcriber’s Notes</h2> + +<p class="noindent">In the HTML version of this text, page numbers displayed in the source +printed text are enclosed in a box and presented in the right margin.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Basic misspelled words have been corrected, but local speech spelling +and grammar has been left unchanged.</p> + +<p class="noindent">“Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the +Levenshtein Distance.</p> + +<h3>Corrections:</h3> + +<table class="correctionTable"> +<tbody> + <tr> + <th class="tdl">Page</th> + <th class="tdl">Source</th> + <th class="tdl">Correction</th> + <th class="tdl">Edit distance</th> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="width20 tdl"><a href="#corr208">208</a></td> + <td class="width40 tdl bottom">Valesquez</td> + <td class="width40 tdl bottom">Velázquez</td> + <td class="bottom tdl">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="width20 tdl"><a href="#corr260">260</a></td> + <td class="width40 tdl bottom">shriek of breaks</td> + <td class="width40 tdl bottom">shriek of brakes</td> + <td class="bottom tdl">2</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="width20 tdl"><a href="#corr280">280</a></td> + <td class="width40 tdl bottom">pursuade</td> + <td class="width40 tdl bottom">persuade</td> + <td class="bottom tdl">1</td> + </tr> +</tbody> +</table> +</div> +</section> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79392 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/79392-h/images/cover.jpg b/79392-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..38c7b98 --- /dev/null +++ b/79392-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/79392-h/images/logo.png b/79392-h/images/logo.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8233f71 --- /dev/null +++ b/79392-h/images/logo.png diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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