The Lockwood Concern (48 page)

out in a shiny black silk suit with a white pique dickey below a bare chest, sheer black silk stockings and black patent-leather pumps. She wore no hat, and her black hair was slicked down, parted in the middle, with buns over her ears. "And what did you say your name was?" said George. "Angela. And no cracks," she said. "Angela what?" "Angela Schuyler." "But you can call her Schultzie," said the blonde." "If you do I'll hit you right over the head with this," said Angela, raising a patent-leather handbag. She turned to George. "What name do you go by?" "George Lockwood." "I know that name from somewhere. Are you from the Coast?" "No, I'm from Pennsylvania. Why? Do you know some Lockwoods on the Coast?" "I know one named George Lockwood, the same as you. But a lot younger," said Angela. "It's a fairly common name," said George. "Yeah, and maybe you just took it," she said. "No, it's really my name," said George. They ordered dinner, and the girls displayed their knowledge of the most expensive foods without studying the menu. The blonde also contributed suggestions for the wines. "This Ginzo has as good a wine list as you'll find anywhere," she said. "He bought some rich guy's cellar when he died." "How do you know so much about wine?" said George. "How do I know so much about wine? I'm a Ginzo myself. Don't let the blond hair fool you." "It doesn't fool anybody," said Angela. "And if it does, they soon find out." "Yeah, but it costs them plenty to find out, doesn't it, Ned? He can speak from experience." "Do we have to talk about money?" said Angela. "George, you give me a hundred dollars now and we don't have to talk about it anymore." George opened his notecase and took out several new never-folded bills. "Will two fifties do?" "Uh-huh. That makes it easier to count," said Angela. "Now we can all relax." She put the money in her purse and became gracious. All through the meal George caught her minute studies of him, of his clothes, of his hands, of his hair, of his teeth, and of his interest in her bare chest. She could not have been more thorough if she had been planning to buy him. "This Lockwood on the Coast, he reminded me a little of you. Or the other way around, I guess. What business are you in?" "I'm in the investment business." "Investment. Do you ever invest in any oil wells?" "Never have, but I'm told it can be very profitable," said George. "Yes, I know some chaps in the oil business and I never met a stingy one yet," she said. Her study of him continued to be intensive. After dinner they went to two other speakeasies, and O'Byrne wanted to go to Harlem. "I'm afraid you'll have to count me out on that," said George. "I have to get up early." "No Harlem for me, either," said Angela. "Come on, a good dirty show," said the blonde. "I've seen them," said Angela. "Seen them? I'll say you have," said the blonde. "So if you'll excuse us," said George hastily. "Yes, and don't talk so much, Elaine. You only have one thing bigger than your mouth and you know what that is," said Angela. "So do you," said Elaine. The men shook hands, the women did not even say goodnight. In the taxi Angela told George her address, an apartment house on Central Park West. "I just took it for granted you didn't want to go to your hotel," she said. "Anyway, I don't like going to hotels. The bellhops get to know you. I knew a friend of mine was in the Casino the other night and who should keep pestering her but some bellhop from some hotel. A fag, at that. She couldn't place him in his tux, but he kept trying to sit at her table. She was out with some movie producer and I guess the fag wanted to meet him. If there's anything I can't stand it's a fag. They cause more trouble than they're worth. You got a couple at that club of yours." "What club?" "Isn't that the Tennis and Racquet tie you're wearing?" "Racquet and Tennis, but very observing. The Tennis and Racquet is a Boston organization." "I would of known you were a member without the tie," she said. "Say, that rings a bell. The Lockwood from the Coast, he's a member, too. He was wearing the self-same tie. Come on, - give." "He's my son," said George. "Well can you imagine that! What a small world. But not small enough, huh?" "You mean not big enough-" "That's what I mean. Not big enough. You don't mind, do you?" "Mind what?" "Well, me and your son, and now you. I don't mind, but with you it might be mental. We'll try it and see, huh? When I get my clothes off maybe you won't care. And don't forget, I don't get a hundred dollars a night for just having a good shape. I had a friend of mine last year, he sent for me all the way from London, England. Two nights in London, and then back to New York. That must of set him back plenty. And he gave me a thousand. I told him, I said I wouldn't go over for less. I didn't tell him I made some on the boat coming back. I just told him, I said two weeks the minimum I'll be away from New York. You could figure that for fourteen hundred. I like to average a hundred dollars a night. It won't be long before I'm not as pretty as I am now, so I'm getting it while I can." "And then what?" said George. "Well, I was thinking of getting married. Or else I was thinking of opening a beauty parlor. Get some john to set me up in business. The prices these hairdressers get. You know, seven dollars a curl for a permanent. You notice I don't have a permanent, not because I'm afraid to spend the money. But with my particular looks - here we are." It was a small apartment. The living room was astonishingly tasteful, as though furnished and decorated by a professional from W. & J. Sloane. The period was Colonial American, and in the entire room the only item of identification with Angela Schuyler was a cabinet-size photograph of herself in a silver frame. The photograph was from the White Studio, and in it Angela was wearing a black satin evening dress with two panels that covered the nipples of her breasts but left the rest of her torso bare. "You go in for black and white," said George. "The hell I do, that's why I wouldn't go to Harlem," she said. "I was referring to your clothes." "Oh, that's different," said Angela. "You want to take a bath? I'll take one with you if you want to." "That'd be fine." "Unless you'd rather I didn't." "I'd rather you did. I've never done that." "You never took a bath with a girl? Not even your wife?" "Not even my wife," he said.

Her bedroom was not done by a professional from W. & J. Sloane. The bed was large enough for four adults. The chairs, dressing table, chaise longue and framework of three sets of triplicate mirrors were done in matching ivory, touched with gilt. "I've been trying to get up enough nerve to put a meer up in the ceiling, but that'd be the tip-off. When I signed the lease I was working for Carroll. Earl Carroll. And I put down show girl for my occupation. But if the owner ever came in here and saw a meer up in the ceiling, that'd be the tip-off. The building is full of married couples, middle-aged if not past it. Care for a drink?" "No thanks," he said. She opened a dresser drawer and took out a white leatherbound photograph album. She tossed it to him. "Have a look at these. They'll put you in the mood," she said. "Pictures of you?" he said. "Christ, no! Take a look." The photographs were glossy prints of men and women engaged in various forms of sexual activity. She stood behind him as he turned the pages, and he became conscious of her hand on the back of his neck, rubbing his skin when he lingered over a photograph, holding her hand still between pictures. "I wanted to see which ones you liked best," she said. "Which do you?" he said. "I'm not saying." "Let me guess," he said. "Go ahead," she said. "You liked the one of the young boy," he said. "The kid with the big dingus. How did you know?" "Pure guesswork," he said. It had not been guesswork at all; her hand on his neck had revealed her agitation. "Imagine a young kid with a thing like that? Elaine told me she saw the boy, putting on a dirty show in Cuba. The picture's not a fake. I thought it was a fake, but Elaine saw him. That thing must be a yard long." "Oh, not a yard. Not even a foot." "But on a kid fourteen years old. Maybe fifteen. What a future he has!" "That picture puts you in the mood, doesn't it?" "You want to know the truth? Yes, it does. Sometimes I dream about that kid. He could make a fortune if he came to New York. A fortune." She stood up and stretched her arms back as far as they would go, then suddenly she took off her jacket and the dickey and put her hands over her bare breasts, and looked down as she gently squeezed them. "The best in New York City," she said. "Aren't they something?" "Yes they are," he said. He was not equal to the demands created in her by the picture of the Cuban boy, but as a professional she was there to entertain him and she did. When it was over she washed him and lit a cigarette for him. "How often do you come to New York?" she said. "Fairly frequently," he said. "But with your wife." "Not always." "When'll you be here again?" "The day after tomorrow, passing through. Changing trains. Then I'm not sure when I'll be back again. Why?" "Do you want to make a date for between trains? I'll be here. Or is that rushing you?" "It might be." "And you have to give your wife a screw when you get home. Is that it?" "Well, I'll have to be ready to." "That's where your kid had the advantage." "My kid? God, I forgot all about him." "Sure you did. I fixed that. That's where I'm good, see? Any common ordinary hooker can give you a quick lay, but I sized you up all evening." "You're absolutely wonderful," he said. "That's the kind of thinking I admire. If you knew me better you'd know that." "Oh, sure," she said. "If you had that kid on your mind all night you'd of blamed me for it." "What did you mean about his having an advantage?" "You have to go home the day after tomorrow and be ready to give your wife a screw. But your kid had five days' train-ride before he saw his wife." "I see," said George. "Five days on a train, he'd be as horny as a guy just out of prison. He is anyway. I'll bet you were the same way when you were younger. Did you used to go around with a hard on when you were young?" Yes, I guess I did." "A few hours' sleep and you'd be all set again, but I don't allow anybody to stay here all night. Not anybody. It's against my rules. So I guess if you're gonna get any sleep you better go back to your hotel. Take down my number, but be sure and don't write down my name. There's not many people have this number, and I change it every so often." "Angela, I'd like to ask you something." "Anything. You're entitled," she said. "Then I'll ask you two things. First, did you really deliberately go about taking my mind off my son tonight? Or was that an afterthought?" "I can prove it to you. O'Byrne and Elaine would have stayed in that Ginzo's place all night, but who was it said let's go some place else? Me. So we went to the Aquarium. Then who was it said let's get out of the Aquarium and go to the Ball and Chain? Me. And when we got here, who showed you the dirty pictures? This could of been a lousy evening for the both of us if you kept thinking about that kid, but it didn't turn out that way, did it? You gave me a pretty good time, I gave you a pretty good time. What's the other question?" "You've more or less answered it. I was going to ask you if you really got pleasure out of this work." "Most of the time. You know the old gag. She gave away a million dollars' worth before she found out she could sell it. I take on some fellows that almost turn my stomach, what they like to do. But we're all human, and the money is good. I bank an average of five hundred dollars a week, clear profit. And I got a promise of backing for my beauty parlor. A hustler has three worries. The Vice Squad. The mob. And getting a dose. Well, I never let a week go by without my doctor checking up on me. And I have a politician that takes care of the Vice Squad and the mob boys. You have to have a politician in this business, otherwise the mob moves in and you do what they say. Which usually means you're only good for two or three years of the good money." "Do you pay the politician?" "Oh, he's too big to keep it himself, if that's what you mean. The money I give him goes to the party. Small change to him. That's not saying I don't do him other favors." "Such as?" "Like spying on other politicians. Like spying on men that aren't politicians, too." "You could be spying on me, for that matter." She shook her head. "I never heard of you till tonight." "I see. I'm not important enough," said George. "Maybe you're important, but I never heard of you. The ones they use me for are the big shots, that everybody heard of. Like the fellow I went to London for two days. In June I was in Saratoga for a Democratic convention. I only got my expenses, but since then they owe me a favor. A contract. In politics they say a contract. Any cop or any mobster that gives me the least bit of trouble. I just make one little phone call. A certain Bogardus number, that's all." "Do you ever accept these contracts for people that aren't in politics?" "You mean getting something on somebody?" "I was thinking more of getting information." "You want me to spy on somebody? Who? Some friend of yours?" "Not exactly," said George. "A young man who just married my daughter." "What the hell do you want to spy on him for? If your daughter married him my advice to you is stay out of it Maybe I'd find out something about her that you wouldn't like. Politicians and big shots I don't mind. But a young married couple, give them a chance. I had a mother-in-law that was always interfering. No, no contract. I'd feel like a shit-heel. Your daughter won't end up a hustler, but my advice to you is stay out of it. Maybe she's like me. I wouldn't of stayed married to Frank as long as I did if it wasn't for his mother interfering." "She is like you, my daughter. Very much so, if the truth be told," he said. "Well, Angela, it's been a very interesting evening, and I never thought it was going to be. Dinner with an old college friend doesn't usually turn out so well." "Do you have a yacht?" "Afraid I'm not in that class," said George. Why?" "Oh, I was looking for a ride on a yacht over the weekend. The summer's almost over and I only went cruising twice since June. I like to get out of town over the weekend. There's never anybody in town Saturday except actors. Anyway, how about giving me a ring on your way through town? I gave you the number." "I'll call you at half past ten the day after tomorrow. If that isn't too early for you." "You couldn't make it half past eleven?" "Very well. Half past eleven." "How did you like Elaine?" said Angela. "Elaine? She was all right, I guess. Very pretty. Why?" "Well, if you took a later train, I could have Elaine here. You wouldn't be any good for your wife, but I guarantee you, you'd have some fun." "It wouldn't be the day after tomorrow, now. It'd be tomorrow. I'm going to my hotel to get a few hours' sleep, then a train to Pennsylvania, and tonight I'll be on a sleeper. So it'd be tomorrow, in point of fact. I think I'll need a little more rest, but I will telephone you at eleven-thirty. Tomorrow." "Now don't forget. I like you." "I'm glad to hear it. I like you," said George. "I wouldn't trust you for a minute, and I'll bet you can be a real son of a bitch. But all the same I like you, and I don't say that to everybody. And I'll tell you frankly, I didn't like your kid." "Well, I don't like him much myself, Angela." "That I could tell. Now you better take a run-out powder or I'll start working on you and you'll never get any sleep." "You're a very sweet girl, Angela. I hope we see a lot of each other." "We will. I don't want you to go, but it's ten minutes of four. Soon it'll be daylight." She put her arms around him and kissed him, then handed him his hat. "Out. Scram," she said. She took his arm, led him to the door, and nudged him into the hall and closed the door. In the taxi, all the way to the Carstairs, he was in a state of euphoria for which the right explanation eluded him. Then he remembered Eulalie Fenstermacher, the prim voluptuary, who had once produced in him the same happiness. Thirty years later he was falling in love with a genuine whore, and in what way could a whore fail him? In Swedish Haven and in Gibbsville he attended to his business according to plan. Arthur McHenry, salt of the earth as usual and as usual considerate of the other man's time, had mercifully concise explanations of all the papers that were to be signed on this trip. He avoided small talk and discouraged the few casual visitors to their table at the Gibbsville Club. Their business and their lunch were completed before two-thirty. "I've taken the liberty of hiring a car for you," said Arthur. "It's a nice little Buick coupe. Rented it from Julian English. He just took it in trade on a Cadillac and he didn't want to charge you anything, but I insisted. Five dollars for the day. You can leave it here this evening when you're finished with it. Give the key to whoever's at the desk." "I'm glad you insisted on payment. I don't like to accept favors from Julian English." "Well, that's your business, George. He's not a bad fellow, but he does rub people the wrong way," said Arthur. "Once he settles down he'll probably become as stodgy as his father. Or me, for that matter. Now if there's anything else you want me to do, I'll be at my office. If you want to talk to Joe Chapin, he'll be in court till four, but he should be in the office around five." "I can't think of anything that's likely to come up," said George. "You've taken care of everything in your usual masterly fashion." "Well, most of it could have been done by a law clerk, but I like to go over everything so that your New York lawyers can't find any fault with what we do. Joe and I may be a couple of hayseeds, but we don't want the New York fellows to find that out. You understand that stuff about posting the bond, and those disbursements that we're charging against Pen's widow's share." "All clear." "Fine. Then I think I'll run along, George. Nice to've seen you. Please remember me to Geraldine and our best wishes to Tina." "Thank you, Arthur. See you in a few weeks," said George. He would see no one in a few weeks.