Kiss Tomorrow Goodbye (22 page)

‘How will things be different tomorrow?’ I asked, taking the forty dollars.

‘Wait and see. Be here early in the morning.’ He slapped me on the back. He was feeling good. I looked at him and he was grinning. Shrugging, I walked out, putting the forty dollars in my pocket.

I was still hungry and, having got the images of those feeding swine out of my mind, I went into a drug store and had a sandwich and a glass of milk. Then I decided to do what I had been wanting to do all day, but hadn’t had a chance: find out who Ezra Dobson was. I couldn’t get over the demonstration of reverence and awe that the two motor-cops had put on last night when they had found out that Margaret Dobson was Ezra Dobson’s daughter.

In the classified telephone directory in the booth I picked the name of a newspaper that was in the biggest type and called it and was connected with the city editor. ‘I’m having an argument with a friend of mine and I wondered if you could settle it,’ I said to him. ‘Would you please tell me Ezra Dobson’s title?’

‘Well, he’s got a lot of titles,’ the guy at the other end said. ‘Ex-Mayor, ex-Governor, ex-United States Senator why don’t you look in –
Who’s Who
?’

‘I know those titles,’ I said, hoping none of the amazement I was feeling could get through the telephone. ‘I mean his title now.’

‘Well, he’s President of Watco Steel. That what you mean?’

I didn’t know what I meant, but this would do. ‘Thank you,’ I said. I hung up and stood staring at the telephone dial. Jesus! No wonder those motor-cops… I looked up Watco Steel in the book. There was half a page of listings of various plants and departments. I looked up Ezra Dobson. There were two telephones listed for him, but I was interested in the one that was indicated by the lower case ‘r’ meaning residence. 4100 Willow Creek Drive, it said.

I went out and flagged a cab and got in.

‘You know where Willow Creek Drive is?’ I asked.

‘Sure…’ the driver said, looking at me in the rear-view mirror. That where you wanna go?’

‘Yeah. Just for a ride, just to see some of these big places I been hearing about. Somebody mentioned Willow Creek Drive. Is it nice out there?’

‘They’re all nice out there. That’s the North Side. That where you wanna go?’

‘Yeah. Just for a ride.’

The driver was right: they were all nice out there. On gently rolling hills and wide clean streets they stood, walled and iron-fenced, of mixed styles but triumphant miens, with fine green lawns and bright flowers and well-kept trees. It was a modern counterpart of a medieval duchy. 4100 Willow Creek Drive crowned the duchy, its eminence supreme. This gray fieldstone Renaissance house of many many rooms had been erected on the highest hill in the neighborhood, moated by a ten-foot grey fieldstone wall that surrounded it on all sides, thick enough to keep out an army. Near a corner of the wall was the entrance, but the big bronze gates were closed. Beside the gates, inside the wall, was a small gray fieldstone house a private watchman’s house.

‘That place’s a pip,’ I said to the driver. ‘Who lives there?’

‘I don’t know,’ he said, ‘but I’d like to have what it takes to run it.’

‘So would I,’ I said. I bet I could sure surprise you, I thought. I bet I could knock you right through that windshield if I told you I had a date tonight with the girl who lives there. And then I thought about the forty dollars. What the hell good was forty dollars when you had a date like this? How much caviar and champagne could you buy with forty dollars? ‘Any time you’re ready…’ I said.

‘Had enough?’

‘I’ve seen what I came to see. Now I’m ready to go back to the common people.’

‘Where I picked you up?’

‘Downtown. Mason’s Garage …’

‘Where’s that?’

‘Downtown. Near the big produce market. I’ll show you,’ I said. I sat back and lighted a cigarette, feeling a tingling exhilaration.

Mason was in the back of the garage talking to one of the mechanics. My body, moving into the darkened entrance from the bright sun, disturbed the tight balance, attracting his attention, and he looked towards me and saw that somebody was there, but I could tell from his reaction that he had not recognized me. I walked on into the office and half-sat on the desk, and in a minute I heard him approaching, bouncing up and down. He saw me before he got through the doorway, and stopped outside the office. His eyes blinked with fear and his Adam’s apple fluttered as he tried several times to swallow. He looked quickly over his shoulder to the rear of the garage and I thought he was going to scream. I pulled the .380 automatic out of my hip pocket and pointed it at his belly.

‘Come on in,’ I said.

‘Now, lissen, Ralph …’ he stammered.

‘Come on in,’ I said.

He came in, his eyes twitching. ‘Lissen, Ralph …’ he said. ‘You got to hear my side of this. …’

‘Stop shaking,’ I said. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’ I put the gun back in my pocket. ‘See? I’m not going to hurt you. …’

He opened his mouth a little, letting go a sigh, and his eyes stopped twitching. ‘I know what you been thinking, Ralph,’ he said. ‘I been trying to get you on the phone. You ask Holiday, Ralph.

‘You’re confusing me with somebody else,’ I said. ‘My name’s not Ralph. My name’s Paul Murphy. Look at this…’ I handed him the police permit to carry a pistol. ‘Paul Murphy, that’s me. …

He looked at the permit, but there was still doubt in his face. ‘On the level?’ he asked.

‘Sure. Ink’s not dry yet. My pal, Charlie Webber. Inspector, Homicide. You remember…’

He did not say anything. I took the permit from his hand and put it back in my pocket. ‘That was a nice thing you did, Vic – putting the Inspector in touch with me. We have a lot in common, and I have a feeling that he and I will be the best of friends. Of course, you didn’t know that, but as long as it turned out all right. …’

‘I’m glad it did, Ralph. I’m sure glad as hell it did.’ He seemed more at ease now. ‘It’s mighty nice of you, Ralph, to come here to tell me that’

‘Paul,’ I said.

‘Paul. I’m sorry about the deal I gave you, but a guy gets that kind of pressure put on him there’s only one thing he can do. …’

‘I know that, Vic. Forget it. Everything turned out all right. I’m not one to hold a grudge. Shake?’

‘Sure…’

We shook hands. He smiled; he was positively jovial. ‘Wanna go around the corner and have a drink?’

‘It’s a little early for me, Vic,’ I said. ‘I been on the wagon so damned long. Tell you what you can do for me though ‘

‘Anything, Ralph. You want the Zephyr?’

‘Paul,’ I said.

‘Paul, I mean …’

‘I’m short of cash until tomorrow. I was wondering. …’

‘How much you want?’

‘Oh, couple of hundred. Just till tomorrow. We got something lined up for then. …’

‘Why, sure, sure,’ he said, amenable but not too happy, pulling out a roll of bills. He flicked four fifty-dollar bills off the top and handed them to me.

‘Thanks, Vic,’ I said. ‘This’ll take care of the groceries. …’

‘Any time, Paul. You think you’ll be needing the Zephyr tomorrow?’

‘I can’t tell yet,’ I said, putting the four fifty-dollar bills in my pocket. ‘I don’t know what the lay-out is. Maybe. I’ll call you.’

‘I’ll have her ready – just in case.’

‘Good. And, Vic, you don’t know how much I appreciate the loan.’

‘Ah!’ he said modestly, putting his arm around me. ‘Don’t give it a thought. Your credit’s always good with me.’

‘Thanks …’ I said, starting for the door with him still beside me, his arm still around my neck.

‘If you get bored sitting in that apartment tonight, call me. I’ll be here till late. I might be able to find some fun for you. …’

I won’t be bored tonight, old boy, I won’t be sitting in that apartment tonight, I wanted to tell him. This is one night that I won’t be bored. ‘I’ll try to do that,’ I said, stepping out from under his arm, turning towards the street.

When I opened the door of the apartment Holiday got up from the davenport and advanced to me, her hands on her hips, her face blazing with anger that obviously had been a long time piling up.

‘So you finally got here!’ she said.

‘Take it easy,’ I said.

She grabbed me by the shoulders of my coat, clutching the padding and poking her face almost against mine. ‘What’s the matter? You run out of places to go?’

‘Please…’ I said. ‘I’ve had enough melodrama for one day.’

‘Me sitting here in this stinking apartment all day…’

‘Please,’ I said. ‘I’m exhausted.’

‘Oh, so you’re exhausted! From what! Being lumped up in the sack with that bitch all afternoon?’

‘Please,’ I said. ‘I’m hot and sweaty and in no mood to fight.’ I tried to take her hands off my shoulder but she was holding too tightly. Her eyes were wide and rabid and her lips were thin. ‘I haven’t been with any bitch,’ I said. ‘I’ve been with Mandon. You’re the only bitch I’ve seen today. Honest.’

She snorted and then without warning she clawed at my face. I caught this hand and knocked the other one from my shoulder and slapped her across the nose. But she wanted to be tough. She growled in her throat and raised both arms to grab me around the neck, and I slugged her on the side of the head, knocking her down. I reached over and lifted her dress and tugged at it between my hands and finally managed to tear off a hunk. She lay on her back, looking up at me, her eyes smoldering, fully conscious, but saying nothing. With the hunk of her dress, I wiped the spittle from my face, and then threw the rag at her and went into the bedroom, closing the door.

Goddamn it, I thought regretfully; but this clawing business had to stop and that was the only way to stop it, the only way. She’s a goddamn savage, this dame is, a real primitive, and the only way to teach her something is to knock her on her ass. Well, she’d sure as hell come to the right place. … I separated the money, putting the thirty-odd dollars, all that was left of the money I’d gotten from Mandon, on the bureau, but folding the four fifty-dollar bills I’d gotten from Mason and poking them into my watch pocket. I took out my gun and started to lay it on the bureau when I thought no, it’d be very dumb of me to tempt her like this, if she ever exploded in one of those violent passions and happens to see a gun handy – and then I thought that this kind of thinking was stupid because I couldn’t keep her away from guns indefinitely, if she wanted a gun badly enough she’d certainly get one of her own, and changing my mind again, I left the gun on the bureau beside the money in plain sight. I took off my clothes and went into the bathroom and started filling the tub. I got the water mixed and stepped in. I had to get myself nice and clean for Margaret Dobson, daughter of Ezra Dobson, Esq., of 4100 Willow Creek Drive, ex-Mayor, ex-Governor, ex-United States Senator, President of the Board of Watco Steel, the very mention of whose name caused little people, maybe big people too, but certainly little people, to tremble in their boots.

I was on my back in the tub when Holiday came in. She wore only silk shorts and stockings and her shoes and in her hand she held the torn dress. She stood in the doorway, looking at me almost calmly. The fury of the squall had passed, it should be approaching the North Carolina coast by now, and there was no smolder in her eyes. She leaned over and dropped the dress into the tub with me. ‘There’s a wash rag for you,’ she said.

‘The next time you spit in my face, you’ll have a loose arm to drop in the tub with me,’ I told her. ‘I mean it. I don’t like this spitting business. It’s all over now, and I’ve forgiven you. Don’t give the dress another thought. We’ll get another one. We’ll get a dozen more. Two dozen. All you want.’

She stepped back, closing the door, not saying anything. I wrung out the dress and put it on the back ledge of the tub, and finished my bathing. Then I wrapped a towel around myself and went into the bedroom.

She was standing at the bureau, looking down at the money and the gun. All she had to do to get the gun was to just pick it up, but I wasn’t alarmed, for all the apprehension I felt she might just as well have been looking at a water color. ‘Where’s Jinx?’ I asked.

‘He went out.’

‘Where?’

‘He didn’t say.’

‘That’s what you should have done, gone out.’

‘We can’t all be crazy,’ she said. ‘What’s this?’

‘What does it look like? It’s a gun.’

‘I don’t mean the gun. I mean the money. Where’d it come from?’

I started to tell her that all during the time she thought I was lumped up in the sack with some other dame I was out hustling for her, trying to scrape enough together to buy the necessities of life, and really pour it on so she would feel guilty for accusing me falsely, and then I thought, the hell with her. ‘From Mandon. I put the bite on him. It’s enough to last until tomorrow.’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’

‘I’m not quite sure. He’s got something up his sleeve, something big.’ I threw back the sheet and blanket and got into bed, stretching out. ‘He’s got several prospects. We’re going to decide on one of ’em tonight.’

‘With Mandon …’

‘Where?’

‘I just got through telling you. I don’t know.’

‘Didn’t he give you some idea?’

‘Just look things over, he said. That’s all I know.’

‘Looking things over! That could mean a lot of things.’

‘Well, that’s what he said. Look things over.’

‘When’s he picking you up?’

She certainly was full of questions. Well, she’d been sitting here all afternoon biting her nails and conjuring up all sorts of fantasies, and now she was full of questions. That was perfectly natural, and since I wanted the leavetaking tonight to be peaceful and pleasant – which it wouldn’t be if either of us provoked another eruption – I decided I’d better make myself a little more agreeable, a great deal more agreeable. ‘Come on over and sit down,’ I said.

She came over and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘He’s not picking me up,’ I said. ‘I’m meeting him. …’ She darted her eyes at me and I saw the suspiciousness coming into them, and I also saw, on the side of her head, the egg-size profile of the bump where I had hit her. I had the impulse to sit up and examine the swelling and kiss it and say that I was sorry and lay her down and get a cold towel and treat it, and then I realized that this would be carrying the act too far, that this was one dame whose suspicions could never be smothered by contrition. ‘Look, Holiday, this is business,’ I said placidly. This was the way to do it, be straightforward and agreeable. ‘I’m going with Mandon on business. We’ve got to have some money. You need clothes, I need clothes, and we need a bigger place to live in. If you’ll just have a little patience and trust me, we’ll be in clover before you know it. We can’t miss. This is an absolute cinch. This makes Dillinger and Nelson and Underhill and Floyd and Barker and those guys look like beginners. There never was a set-up like this in the history of the world. …’