I Can Get It for You Wholesale (39 page)

He nodded.

We were right. We? Well,
I
was right.

As soon as Babushkin was back in the witness chair, Siegel picked up the checks.

“Mr. Babushkin,” he said. “Trustee’s Exhibit Three of this date represents a series of checks issued by Apex Modes, Inc. to you and deposited by you in your personal account. These checks were not your
salary
from the corporation, were they?”

“No.”

“What were they for?” Siegel said; then quickly, to the stenographer, “No, strike that out. I withdraw the question.” He picked up the second batch of checks. “And Trustee’s Exhibit Two of this date, Mr. Babushkin, represents an almost identical series of checks drawn by you on your personal account, to the order of cash, endorsed by you, and obviously cashed. In other words, Mr. Babushkin,” he said, choosing his words and wrapping his lips around each one so carefully that his mustache began to do double loops, “to put it more clearly, Mr. Babushkin, in the ten weeks preceding the bankruptcy, between the date you opened your personal account and the date of the bankruptcy, some thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars of corporate funds were withdrawn by you, deposited in your personal account, and almost immediately withdrawn from that personal account practically in the form of cash. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes.”

Siegel turned away from him for a moment, then, suddenly, he spun around, shot his hand out at him, and barked, “What did you do with that money?”

Babushkin just stared at him, blinking his eyes a little. He was so dumb that he was smart. His mind moved so slowly that tricks like these had no effect on him.

“What did you do with that money, Mr. Babushkin?”

“I—I used it in the business.”

“You
what
?”

“I used it in the business.”

“How?”

“I used it to pay for labor.”

“To pay for
labor
?”

“Yes.”

“Why couldn’t you pay your labor with corporate checks? Why did it have to be by cash, in this peculiar way?”

“We had trouble with our contractors. The union wanted us to use only union contractors. So we used scab contractors and we had to pay them in cash.”

Siegel looked at him with his mouth open. Take my word for it, he wasn’t a lovely sight.

“Why couldn’t the corporation pay them with cash? Why did it have to go through your personal bank account?”

“We didn’t want it to show on the books.”

Siegel’s mouth dropped another few inches, until I could see what he’d had for lunch. I didn’t blame him for looking surprised. The explanation was so cockeyed, that even I, who had invented it, couldn’t follow it.

“Do you mean to say, Mr. Babushkin, that you spent thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars on labor in ten weeks?”

“No. We bought goods and things like that, too.”

“You bought goods?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you buy your goods through the regular channels, from your regular creditors, on terms?”

“We made some very high-priced stuff. The ordinary houses, they didn’t carry the kind of goods we needed. We needed exclusive imports. We had to go shopping around for them, and pay cash.”

Say, he wasn’t bad! Or else I was a peach of a coach. Probably the latter.

“Who bought this goods?”

“I did.”

Well,
that
was in the record.

Siegel rubbed his mustache, and turned back to the table. He scowled as he shoved his papers around, and for a few moments it was quiet. Then he turned back to Babushkin and asked quietly, with a little smile:

“Would you mind giving us the names of these contractors to whom you say you paid this money?”

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.”

“Didn’t you keep any kind of a record?”

“We didn’t want it should show in the books.”

“You mean to say you don’t remember the name of a single one?”

“No.”

“How did you remember who they were when it came to paying them?”

“I had it written down in a little book.”

“Oh, so you
did
have a record.”

“Yes.”

“Where is that little book now?”

“I lost it.”

“You lost it?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“When did you see this so-called little book last?”

“I don’t remember.”

Siegel changed the tone of his voice and said, “All right, Mr. Babushkin, now about this goods you say you bought. Give us the names and addresses of some of the people you bought from.”

“I don’t remember.”

“You don’t remember a single one?”

“No.”

Siegel twisted up his face and said, “It wouldn’t be, Mr. Babushkin, that you had their names in this little book of yours, too, would it?”

“That’s right.”

Siegel smacked his papers down on the table and turned excitedly to the Referee.

“Mr. Referee,” he said angrily, “I respectfully submit that this witness is deliberately withholding information. It seems ridiculous that a week or two after the expenditure of such large sums of money the witness should be unable to recall a single name among the many he claims he dealt with. I ask that Your Honor direct the witness to tell the truth or suffer the consequences in a contempt proceeding.”

“Just a moment, please,” Golig said, hopping up. “Mr. Siegel seems to forget that my client is under oath. I resent Mr. Siegel’s innuendo that my client is perjuring himself, and demand an apology on his part. I have refrained from objecting to the unorthodox manner in which Mr. Siegel has been conducting this 21-A examination, Your Honor, but I simply must draw the line when he says in so many words that my client is lying.”

Siegel yelled, “I wouldn’t apologize to him if—”

“Quiet!” the Referee said suddenly. He didn’t say it loud, but they all shut up. “I will thank you gentlemen to remember that you are in a court of law.” He turned to Babushkin. “You understand, Mr. Babushkin,” he said, “that you are under oath, do you not?”

Meyer nodded.

“And that if you do not tell the truth while you are under oath, you may be punished by the court?”

Meyer nodded again. It was his only talent.

“You may proceed with the examination,” the Referee said to Siegel.

Siegel bit his lip, stared at Babushkin, glared at Golig, rubbed his mustache, and said, “No more questions.”

“No questions,” Golig said.

“That’s all,” the Referee said to Babushkin, and he got out of the chair.

There was a stir in the room and both lawyers began to put their papers together and a few people began to get up and walk out.

“May it please the court.”

It was Siegel’s voice. The room quieted down again.

“May I have a word, Your Honor?”

The Referee nodded.

“I respectfully submit,” Siegel said, “that it seems perfectly clear from the evidence taken to-day, Your Honor, that this business was shockingly milked with the deliberate intention and purpose of defrauding its creditors. I respectfully call Your Honor’s attention to the fact that I intend to bring a turnover motion in this court against Mr. Babushkin for thirty-two thousand five hundred dollars.”

“The court,” the Referee said, “can take no cognizance of your intentions, Mr. Siegel, until such time as the proper papers are filed with it.” He picked up his diary. “Do you want an adjourned date, Mr. Siegel, on this 21-A hearing?”

“No, sir,” Siegel said. “I shall file my turnover papers with Your Honor to-morrow.”

“Very well,” the Referee said. “Hearing adjourned.”

I
DIDN’T KNOW HOW
long I had been walking like that, back and forth, from one end of the living room to the other, telling myself that there was nothing to be nervous about and that if I’d only sit down everything would be all right. But I
did
know that the advice was lousy. Because when I finally did sit down, it didn’t help. I jumped up in a minute and began to parade back and forth again.

For once I was almost sorry I didn’t drink. I’d heard of enough guys who carried themselves over the rough spots by getting pissed to the ears. But I knew it wasn’t worth trying. The most I’d get out of it would be a bellyache.

Suddenly I got an idea. I took my hat and went out quickly, before I could start thinking about something else again and drive it out of my mind. But when I got in front of the joint I didn’t go in. I kept on moving down the block. I didn’t want to get laid.

I walked to Broadway and looked around. The Paramount was nearest. I went in and got a seat in the orchestra. But then I thought it would be nicer to sit in the balcony. I went up and found a seat. But that wasn’t any good, either. I went out of the theater, looking back at the marquee to see what was playing.

When I turned my head again, I saw a United Cigars Store. I fingered a nickel in my pocket, but I didn’t go in to make the call. I made up my mind, though. I bought a paper and went into the subway. I began to feel better at once. I actually sat still and read the paper all the way up.

But the moment I came into the house I knew I shouldn’t have done it. Mother wasn’t alone. I could hear voices in the living room. I walked toward them and stood in the doorway.

“Hello, Ma,” I said.

She was in the armchair, her hands folded on the apron in her lap. Across the room, on the sofa, sat a young woman with a baby in her arms. She was plump and had dark hair and was neatly dressed. Before anybody spoke I knew who she was. And I was struck at once by her resemblance to Ruthie Rivkin. There was in her face that same softness, that warmth that was so appealing and that Mother called
chein.

“Hello, Heshie,” Mother said, getting up and coming toward me. “We were just talking about you.”

She took my hat and put it on the table.

“This is Mrs. Babushkin,” she said.

I bowed and smiled.

“Glad to know you, Mrs. Babushkin,” I said. “It’s really too bad that we should finally have to meet at a time like this.”

She didn’t smile.

“Sit down, Heshie,” Mother said.

I took one of the straight-backed chairs. I crossed my legs and lit a cigarette.

“Where’s Meyer?” I asked.

“He’s home,” she said, staring at me.

What the hell was she looking at? I had a clean shirt on. And I’d shaved, too. Maybe she was fascinated. It began to look like I had a fatal attraction for the warm Jewish type.

“That’s the best place for him,” I said. “He should be resting up for to-morrow?”

“He’s not resting,” she said.

What was I supposed to do, act surprised?

“Well, I guess he doesn’t need it, really, Mrs. Babushkin,” I said. “There’s nothing to what’s going to happen to-morrow. A little hearing, a few questions, a few answers, and it’s all over.”

She shifted the baby into a more comfortable position in her arms.

“I didn’t tell him I was coming here to-day,” she said quietly.

That was a nice way for a married woman with a baby to talk, wasn’t it? It was lucky Mother was there to act as chaperon.

“Why, you could—” I began.

“You see, Mr. Bogen,” she said, looking me right in the eye, “my husband
trusts
you.”

I dropped my eyes to grind out my cigarette.

“Mrs. Babushkin,” Mother said, “let me talk.”

I looked at her quickly. And I could tell at a glance that I was in for it. She wasn’t on my side, either.

“Mrs. Babushkin has been here for more than an hour, Heshie,” she said. “She told me the whole story, the things that happened and the bankruptcy and everything.”

It must have been a regular field day.

“Well, I can’t help that, Ma,” I said irritably. “The creditors just cracked down on us, that’s all. But there’s nothing to worry about. I told Meyer it was nothing. There’s gonna be a little hearing to-morrow, the same as the last one, and everything’ll come out the same as the other one did. Two weeks from now our business’ll be running again. That’s how things happen in business. I can’t help those things. It’s not
my
fault that those crazy credit men—”

“Nobody says it’s your fault, Heshie,” Mother said.

They didn’t have to say it. I could tell from the way they looked.

I lit another cigarette.

“Then what can I do?” I said.

“Mrs. Babushkin told me,” she said, “that her husband trusts you, Heshie.”

Why not? Didn’t I trust him?

“That’s right,” Mrs. Babushkin said.

I turned to her with a sarcastic grin.

“But
you
don’t, Mrs. Babushkin,” I said. “Is that the idea?”

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“Well, now look here, Mrs. Babushkin—” I began.

“I don’t know what happened downtown, Mr. Bogen,” she said, breaking in. “My husband used to talk everything over with me before he did it. This thing he didn’t talk over with me. I didn’t know what happened until a few days ago. A couple of months ago, he came home and told me about a special bank account you had opened together. I didn’t understand it very well from his explanation.” I couldn’t blame her for that. “But he said it was to cheat the government out of income tax.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say ‘cheat,’ Mrs. Babushkin,” I said.

“That’s what it was for, though, wasn’t it, Mr. Bogen?”

“Well, yes, I suppose so,” I said. “If you want to look at it that—”

“I warned him at that time not to do it,” she said. “I told him it wasn’t right.” Her face pinched up around the mouth. “But he said it was too late. He said you had started already. He said there was nothing to worry about,” she said slowly. “He said you would take care of everything.”

“And I did, Mrs. Babushkin,” I said quickly. “That had nothing to do with the bankruptcy. This thing is just—”

“Maybe it didn’t,” she said in a low voice. “But it was the only time he didn’t listen to my advice, Mr. Bogen.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way about it, Mrs. Babushkin, but I assure you that that account had nothing to do with it. That’s a separate thing from this bankruptcy entirely. There’s nothing—”

“I don’t say there is, Mr. Bogen,” she said again. “But it was the only time he didn’t listen to what I told him.”