A Stone for Danny Fisher (1952) (35 page)

I
PUT
down my coffee cup and got up from the table. I carefully skirted several filled cardboard cartons and walked around the table to where she was sitting, and bending, kissed her cheek. “S’long, honey,” I said. “I’m off to work.”

“Be home early tonight,” she said, looking up at me. “I want to finish the packing.”

“Stop worryin’,” I told her. “We can always do a few things
tomorrow before the movers come. They won’t be here until eleven.”

“I don’t like leaving things until the last minute,” she answered. “You always forget something and then you’re upset. I want
everything
ready.”

It really wasn’t very much that we were moving. We were taking none of the furniture with us. We had bought everything new for the house and it was already out there. But women were like that. I remember my mother had been the same way when we had moved.

“Okay, Nellie,” I said, walking to the door. “I’ll be home early.”

Her voice called me back. As I stood in the doorway, she came running to me clumsily and I held my arms out to her. She came into them and rested her head against my shoulder, trembling. I kicked the door shut with my foot and stroked her hair. “Baby, baby,” I whispered, “what’s the matter?”

I could scarcely hear her voice, muffled by my jacket. “Danny, I’m frightened. Suddenly I’m frightened.”

I held her close to me. The years had taken their toll even from her. I could notice a few tiny grey hairs under my fingers, and the closer the baby came, the more nervous she was. It hadn’t been like this with Vickie; she hadn’t been so nervous then. “Don’t be scared, baby,” I whispered. “Everything’ll be all right.”

She looked up into my face. “You don’t understand, Danny,” she whispered. “I’m not frightened for myself, I’m frightened for you.”

I smiled reassuringly at her. “Don’t be nervous, baby. Nothing will happen to me. I’ll be all right.”

She hid her face against my shoulder again. “Let’s not move
tomorrow,
Danny, let’s not move there. Let’s find another place. We can wait.”

“Don’t talk foolish, baby,” I said. “You’re just nervous and upset. You’ll love it, once we move in.”

She was crying. “Don’t go back there, Danny,” she pleaded. “Please don’t go back! You can’t make things over again, you can’t change what was meant to be. I’m afraid for you to go back!”

I put my hand under her chin and turned her face up to me. “Stop crying, Nellie,” I said firmly. “It won’t do any good. You’re just making yourself hysterical over nothing. It’s a place to live just like any other place—nothing more and nothing less. So stop trying to make it into something it’s not, and try to be sensible.”

Slowly she stopped weeping. “Maybe I was wrong,” she admitted in a taut, controlled voice, “but I’ve got such a terrible premonition.”

“I remember my mother saying that was one of the symptoms of pregnancy—premonitions. Everybody has them.”

She smiled doubtfully through her tears. I took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes gently. “Forgive me, Danny,” she whispered. “I was just being a woman.”

I kissed her mouth. “Forgive you nothing, baby,” I said, smiling. “That’s the way I want you.”

My secretary came to the door.

“There’s a long-distance call from Buffalo for you, Mr. Fisher,” she said.

I crinkled my brow trying to think who might be calling me from there. I didn’t know anyone up that way. “Who is it?” I asked.

“He wouldn’t give me his name,” she answered, a puzzled look on her face. “He just insisted on talking to you.”

“Okay,” I said, my curiosity aroused. “I’ll take it.” I waited until the door closed behind her before I spoke. “Fisher speaking,” I said.

“Danny, this is Steve Parrish,” a voice crackled in the receiver.

There was a good reason for this guy not giving his name. He was a salesman for one of the big cigarette-jobbers who specialized for the most part in big black-market deals. He was the first guy I had
contacted
when I went into the business. “Steve,” I said pleasantly, “what’re you wastin’ your dough on long-distance calls for? Yuh got money to burn?”

Steve’s voice took on a confidential tone. “I got a big deal up here,” he almost whispered, “and I wanted to check with you before I let it get anywhere else.”

I sat down in my chair and lowered my voice to match his. “How many boxes?” I asked.

“A full truckload,” his voice answered quickly. “All standards. One thousand boxes. You interested?”

Sure I was interested. Who wouldn’t be interested in a thousand boxes of cigarettes when there was hardly that many in the whole town? “What’s the deal?” I asked cautiously.

“Two dollars a carton, a C note a box,” he answered.

I whistled. That was a lot of dough: one hundred grand. “They hot?” I asked.

Steve laughed metallically. “Don’t ask questions, Danny. Stuff like that don’t come out of the icebox these days. I only found out about them by accident because these guys have to unload and grab their dough. I thought of you right away.”

“All-cash deal?” I asked.

“All cash,” he replied flatly. “That’s why you’re gettin’ the
two-dollar
price. If they had the time they could unload for three and a half.”

“Where’m I gonna get that kind of cabbage?” I asked.

There was the faintest note of challenge in his voice. “If it’s too big for yuh to handle, Danny, let me know. Sam Gordon’s been after me for a long time to throw some stuff his way, but I wouldn’t do that. I’m not out to cut your trade an’ I know he’s one of your customers.”

He would know that all right. I had first met him when I was working for Sam. “I didn’t say that, Steve,” I said quickly. “I was just wonderin’ where I could raise that kind of dough. How much time have I got?”

“No time at all, Danny,” he replied. “The boys want their dough tonight. Maybe I better give Sam a buzz, he’s got the dough.”

My watch said one-thirty. The banks were still open, but all I could get there was about nineteen grand that I had socked away in a
safe-deposit
box. All the other money had been ploughed back into the business. I stalled for time.

“Can you wait a half-hour, so I can do some figurin’?”

“If yuh ain’t got the dough, Danny, forget it,” he answered. “There’s no use humpin’ around. I’ll call Sam.”

I snapped my fingers. I had it. And he had given me the answer without knowing. “Look,” I said quickly, “I didn’t say I didn’t have the dough. I just said I needed a half-hour to get it. Then I’ll call yuh back an’ we can make up where to meet. I can hop a plane up there an’ you’ll have it tonight.”

I heard a whispered consultation going on at the other end of the wire; then Steve’s voice came back on the phone. “Okay, Danny, the boys say they’ll wait a half-hour for your call.”

“Good,” I said quickly. “Gimme your number an’ I’ll call you right back.” I wrote the number down on a pad and put down the phone.

There was a clean fifty thousand dollars in this for me if I could pull it off, and that kind of dough didn’t fall into your lap every day. I picked up the phone again and began to dial. The phone on the other end of the wire was ringing. If Steve hadn’t been so quick to suggest finding another customer I wouldn’t have had this idea. I owed him never-to-be-spoken thanks.

There was a click. An operator’s voice sang through the receiver: “Sam Gordon Enterprises.”

“Mame, this is Danny. Put me on the boss’s through line.”

“Okay, Danny.”

I heard another click, another ring, and then Sam’s voice: “Hello.”

“Sam, this is Danny,” I said.

“Yeah, Danny, what’s up?”

“If yuh can use six hundred boxes of standards, I got a deal for yuh,” I said quickly.

Sam’s voice grew cautious. “I can always use ’em, but what’s the deal?”

“Three bucks a carton, a hundred an’ fifty bucks a box. Cash in advance. Delivery tomorrow,” I said.

He hesitated a moment. “Sounds okay,” he answered, still cautious. “But that’s a lot of the long green. What if you can’t make delivery?”

“I’ll guarantee the delivery,” I said confidently.

“S’posin’ somethin’ goes wrong?” he asked. “Then I’m out ninety grand.”

I thought quickly. Sam’s ninety thousand almost carried the deal by itself. I’d have to be a dope if I passed up a shot like that. “Look,” I said, “you know the layout here. I got close to sixty grand worth of the stuff stashed away. The business, location options, and orders for new machines are worth another forty G’s. I’ll bring over the warehouse receipts and an assignment for the business an’ you can hold on to that until the stuff is delivered. Then you give it back to me.”

“An’ if you don’t deliver?” he asked carefully.

I laughed shortly. “Then the whole pot is yours. What d’yuh say?”

He hesitated a moment. “I can use the butts okay, an’ I’m int’rested in the business, but not for myself. I’m out on my elbow there. I can’t run it.”

“So you’ll give me a job”—I laughed again—“an’ I’ll run it for yuh.”

He still hesitated. “Sure yuh want it that way, kid?” he asked slowly.

Fifty grand’s a lot of dough. “You heard me, Sam,” I said surely. “I’m willing to take the chance if you are.”

He cleared his throat. “Okay then, Danny,” he said quietly. “Come on over, the dough’ll be waitin’ for yuh.”

I jammed my fingers on the telephone, jiggled the bar for a second until the dial tone came to my ear, then spun the long-distance operator. I gave her the Buffalo number that Steve had given me. When Steve’s voice came on the wire, “I got the dough, Steve,” I said quickly. “Where’ll I meet yuh?”

“Good, Danny.” Steve’s voice sounded relieved. “Room 224, Royal Hotel. What time will you get here?”

“I’ll be on the first plane I can get on,” I replied. “I should be up there no later than seven tonight. Is everything ready?”

“The truck’s loaded and ready to roll,” he told me. “It’ll leave the minute you get here with the dough.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you tonight.” I put down the phone and looked at my watch. It was almost two o’clock. I would have to hurry if I wanted to make the bank.

I went to the door of the small office and called Zep over. “Make arrangements for storage of four hundred boxes,” I told him.

His eyes widened. “That’s a lot of stuff, Danny. Where you gettin’ it?”

In a few words I told him of the deal. He seemed worried. “You’re takin’ a hell of a chance, Danny,” he said. “Too many things can go wrong. Maybe yuh better take me with you.”

I shook my head. “Somebody’s gotta stay here an’ keep an eye on things. I’ll be okay. You stay here. I’ll call yuh as soon’s I hit town with the stuff.”

It wasn’t until I was at the airport, waiting for the plane, that I remembered I hadn’t called Nellie. I hurried to a phone booth and dialled home. She answered.

I spoke quickly before she had a chance to get in a word. “Baby, somethin’ came up an’ I gotta fly up to Buffalo on business. Don’t wait supper for me. I’ll be back in the morning.”

“But, Danny,” she cried, “we’re moving tomorrow!”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll be back in time.”

Fear came into her voice. “Don’t go, Danny, please don’t go. I’m scared.”

“There’s nothin’ to be afraid of,” I said. “I’ll be back in the
morning.

“Then wait, Danny,” she pleaded. “Wait until after we move.”

“It won’t keep, baby,” I said hurriedly. “There’s fifty grand in it for us, an’ there’s no way of keepin’ that kind of cabbage on ice. I ain’t lettin’ it get away from me!”

She began to weep into the telephone. “I knew something would turn up,” she wailed bitterly. “I had a hunch—”

“But, Nellie,” I interrupted, “it’s fifty grand! Fifty thousand Uncle Sam dollars! We can do a lot with that much dough.”

“I don’t care!” she sobbed. “Sometimes I wish I never heard of money! Since you went into business, you’re not like you used to be.”

“When this is over, Nellie, I’ll see that everything goes the way you want it,” I promised desperately.

“You always say that,” she wept accusingly. “But I don’t believe you any more. You don’t mean it. You’ll never change! The minute there’s a buck involved, you become an entirely different person. You forget everything else!”

“Don’t be a fool!” I said heatedly. “This is a practical world. Without a buck, you’re nothin’. Maybe you’re willin’ to settle for that, but not me!”

I could hear the sharp intake of her breath through the receiver. There was a moment of shocked angry silence, then I heard a click and the phone went dead in my hands. She had hung up on me. I began to swear to myself as I searched my pockets for another nickel with which to call her back. Just then the announcer’s voice came through the loudspeaker:

“Flight number fifty-four on runway three. Buffalo flight fifty-four on runway three. Taking off in five minutes.”

I looked back at the phone, then up at the clock on the wall. Quickly I made up my mind and left the phone booth. She’d feel better when I saw her with the dough tomorrow. Fifty grand can cure a lot of hurt feelings.

I glanced around the lobby of the hotel as I walked toward the desk. It was plainly furnished but neat and clean, just the type of hotel that a salesman might stay in. The desk clerk came forward to meet me.

“Do you have a single?” I asked.

“Yes, sir,” the clerk answered, spinning the register toward me. “Sign there. With or without bath, sir?”

“Without bath,” I said quickly as I scrawled my signature in the register.

“Yes, sir,” the clerk said again. He punched a bell on the counter. “That will be three dollars, sir,” he said, turning to take a key from the rack behind him.

I put the money on the counter just as a bellboy came up to the desk.

“Show Mr. Fisher to room 419,” the clerk said, picking up the money and handing the key to the bellboy.

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted. “Can I check an envelope here?’

“Surely, Mr. Fisher,” the clerk said smoothly. “I’ll put it in the hotel safe for you. Just write your name across the seal.” He pushed a brown manila envelope toward me.