The Hoods (25 page)

Max ribbed him. “As you were saying when you first came in, you got plenty of money?”

“Have I got money,” Jake said forlornly, “I got enough to last me the rest of my life, providing I drop dead tonight.”

Max tossed them each a C note, saying “That's on account. I got a little job for you lads. Be back here about ten tonight.”

Jake said, “What about?”

“I'll let you know tonight.”

They had a few more drinks, then they left.

I was wondering what the hell Max needed them for. What did he have up his sleeve now?

At three thirty, Moe announced, “The Professor is outside.”

Max said, “Let him in.”

He came in briskly like a high-powered sales manager, his eyes sparkling, his teeth flashing in a friendly smile. He shook hands warmly as if he meant it. He was really glad to see us again.

He asked, “You boys want a preliminary demonstration?”

“Yep, if you don't mind,” Max replied.

He smiled. “Not at all, not at all. It's a pleasure. One of you lads assist me with my contraption?”

Cockeye volunteered.

They brought it in. It was quite bulky, over six feet long and two feet deep. It was a sturdy chest. They laid it carefully on the table.

The Professor went into his spiel. He was convincing. Watching him demonstrate the machine, I could understand the suckers' gullibility. Right there, before our very eyes, he was turning a crank, feeding blank paper the size of a bill at one end, and out the other end, fresh, crisp ten dollar bills came sliding through a little slot. It was really something. The machine actually seemed to be manufacturing ten-dollar bills. We could hear the complicated machinery working. It seemed to have a familiar sound, but I couldn't place it for the moment.

Maxie said facetiously, “This is too good a thing for the Himmelfarbs. Let's keep it for ourselves.”

“At times, I really believe in it myself,” the Professor said smiling. “Wait until you see the inside.”

He opened the cover. It was a mass of wheels, gears and springs.

“Well, I'll be goddamned,” Maxie exclaimed. “Is it true, Professor?”

The Professor smiled. “It's true, all right, Maxie. The insides are two of the Combination's old slot machines without the fruit decals on the wheels.”

The professor lifted the slot-machine works out and showed us a secretly enclosed compartment where the new ten-dollar bills were stacked. When we turned the crank handle, the mechanism grabbed a blank paper as it was fed into the machine from one end, and pushed it into another secret compartment directly under the compartment of real money.

Then the mechanism pushed a genuine ten-dollar bill into the slot and the bill slid out as if it were just printed. It worked like a mechanical sleight-of-hand operation. The slot-machine mechanism was purely window dressing to make the entire thing look complicated and sound noisy. We agreed it was clever. The Professor was pleased at our complimentary remarks.

“Just one more thing,” Maxie was addressing the Professor. “I would like a duplicate chest without the insides.”

The Professor raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?” he said.

Maxie repeated the request and added smilingly, “Don't worry, Professor. I don't want to go into competition with you. I would like an empty chest, minus the machinery. Do you have one handy? I can't explain why, but it's important.”

“Certainly, Maxie, certainly,” the Professor said effusively. “If I had only known, I would have brought an empty with me.”

Maxie said, “After we're through with the Himmelfarbs, I will send Cockeye over to your shop to pick one up. Okay?”

“As many empty boxes as you wish,” the Professor replied.

“One is enough.”

I was trying to figure out the reason why Max wanted the empty chest. Then it dawned on me. I didn't like his idea too much. Maxie and his unnecessary chances, I thought.

The Professor set the machine in working order. He loaded it up with forty new ten-dollar bills, counted out forty blank sheets, wrapped them, and put them in his pocket. We carried the contraption into the Professor's station wagon. We led the way in the Caddy to the Himmelfarb's factory.

When we arrived, the Himmelfarbs shooed everyone off the premises. They gave the watchman the rest of the day off with pay. The pay idea was at Maxie's insistence.

The Professor was letter perfect in his performance. They watched bug-eyed as the ten-dollar bills came sliding out of the machine. Then the Professor picked up the cover and showed them the complicated machinery. They were properly impressed. The eldest Himmelfarb showered everybody with his spittle in his excitement. His comments were all superlatives. “Wunderbar! Marvelous! Colossal!”

When it came to producing the thirty-five thousand, there was a slight hitch. Himmelfarb wanted a written guarantee for a year's perfect performance.

Finally the Professor convinced him. “I will bring a genuine, legal, printed guarantee tomorrow.” The Professor was a terrific salesman.

Maxie whispered, “That guy can talk the ears off a pitcher.”

Himmelfarb handed the Professor the thirty-five thousand with trembling hands. “That's a lot of money,” he said.

The Professor patted him on the back. “Don't worry. Tomorrow I'll get my shipment of blank paper and to you I'll rush the first delivery. I will guarantee you will turn out more than thirty-five thousand dollars profit every week.”

I marveled at the Professor's glibness and at the way they ate it up.

We left the Himmelfarbs calculating their profits. They assured us they would work overtime with the machine as soon as they received the necessary paper. I could see if we didn't get out of there fast, Cockeye would explode. He was choking with suppressed laughter.

We drove directly to the Professor's shop. It was the same dingy cellar-room, but more fully equipped with all sorts of modern wood and metal-working machinery. The Professor counted out thirty thousand dollars and handed it to Maxie.

“You know any more chumps like them Himmelfarbs?” he asked.

Maxie smiled as he said, “Nothing personal, Professor, every man to his racket, but as a rule, we don't go in for this kind of swindle. These Himmelfarbs have been pestering us for a long time. They were itchin' to be taken.”

“It's quite a lucrative racket, I assure you,” the Professor replied. “I get rid of at least one machine a month. My 'take' runs anywhere from three thousand up. The highest fee I ever received was fifty thousand dollars from an Italian Count. I measure my fees according to the financial status of my prospective investors, or should I say, suckers?” He chuckled. He continued in a more serious vein: “Of course, I don't have to caution you. These suckers run to the authorities for redress occasionally.”

Maxie laughed it off. “We can handle them. Besides, I'll tell you what, Professor. They won't have any evidence. You are going to get your machine back, barely used, tonight. This is what I want you to do, if possible. You got a roll of toilet paper?”

I understood why Max wanted an extra box, but why the hell did he need a roll of toilet paper?

With a look of bewilderment, the Professor repeated, “Toilet paper? Why yes, toilet paper is in the toilet.”

He went into the back of the shop, into the washroom, and came back with an open roll of paper. He still looked puzzled as he handed it to Maxie.

Maxie walked over to an empty money-making box and put the roll in and said, “Can you make the paper unravel and tissues come out of the slot as you turn the handle?”

“Yes. Yes, I see what you mean. It will take me about fifteen minutes.”

The Professor was laughing heartily as he went to work.

“A new twist, hey Max?”

I remonstrated with Max. I said, “Why go to all that bother?”

Max gave me an eager smile. “You get the idea, Noodles? Some gag, hey?”

I smiled at Maxie's boyish eagerness.

It took the Professor a good twenty minutes to set the roll of toilet paper in the box and to make the machine operate smoothly at the turn of the crank. Maxie was as delighted as a kid with a new mechanical toy.

We carried it up the street into the Caddy. Maxie asked, “Will you be in your shop about eleven o'clock tonight? I'll have the machine we sold Himmelfarb delivered back to you.”

The Professor said, “I'll wait all night if necessary. I'll be happy to receive it. The return of the machine will save me a week's work.”

We took the empty box to the back room at Fat Moe's. We set it on the floor. I smiled at Maxie. He would go to any extreme for a laugh.

I said, “Shall we help Mr. Moore into the box, Maxie boy?”

I burst out laughing at Maxie's impulsive response. He jumped up.

“Okay. Yep, let's go.”

We went to the closet and picked Mr. Moore up.

“But how did you know, Noodles?” he asked.

“Elementary, my dear Watson. Remember, I use my noodle? I'd bet it was even obvious to Cockeye.”

Cockeye mumbled, “Kish mir in tauches, Noodles.”

“Boy, is he beginning to smell kind of ripe,” Max said. We laid Mr. Moore neatly out in the box.

“Chanel number 5—phew!” Max muttered.

“Stronger than number 5,” I grinned. “He smells at least like a number 7.”

Maxie inquired gravely, “Are you placing him in okay on your end, so Mr. Moore won't interfere with the toilet paper operation?”

“It's okay, Max. I secured his feet on both sides, out of the way.” We fastened the cover down tightly.

Maxie turned the handle; a stream of toilet tissue came sliding out of the slot. Maxie mimicked the eldest Himmelfarb, spittle and all, “Marvelous—colossal!”

Cockeye said, “Boy, would I like to be there when they turn the crank and this crap paper comes flowing out.”

“And when they open the cover to look inside,” Patsy laughed, “there will be Mr. Moore staring right up at them.”

“I'll bet they'll drop dead, like Mr. Moore,” Cockeye said.

We left the box lying on the floor.

Maxie said, “After this piece of work I guess refreshments are in order.”

Cockeye stuck his head out to the bar and shouted, “Refreshments.”

Moe came in with a tray of doubles. Patsy whiled away a little time punching the big bag. Max practiced drawing the .22 attached to his sleeve gimmick. Cockeye played soft music on his harmonica. I practiced with my knife, slashing away at the thin air.

Jake, the Goniff, Pipy and Goo-Goo came in promptly at ten o'clock. As always, they walked in the same order, single file. First Jake with his exaggerated swagger, Pipy like a smiling ferret, his eyes darting all over, and Goo-Goo, lurching from side to side, continually glancing behind as if expecting a blow from that direction.

Maxie said, “Have a shot?”

The question was wholly superfluous, for I never knew them to refuse.

Cockeye stuck his head out to the bar. “Keep them coming, Moe.”

Moe kept coming in with trays.

Jake and his cohorts kept eyeing the box. Finally, Jake asked, “What the hell you got in the box, Max?”

Max airily said, “Come here. I'll show you the newest thing on the market.”

Maxie picked up a newspaper, tore it into long strips about four inches wide. He stuck it into the slot at the end made to receive the blank paper. He turned the handle and in a serious tone said, as toilet tissue came flowing out, “This is the newest invention of the age— a crap-paper manufacturing machine.”

I said, “Yeh. This is the biggest thing ever invented. Every family in the world will want to buy one.”

Jake, the Goniff, nodded his head and said sagely, “Boy, can you imagine the money people will save, especially large families, making crap paper out of their old newspapers?”

I said, “The biggest thing since Edison discovered the electric bulb.”

Maxie said gravely, “This is Marconi's invention. You guys ever hear of Marconi, the guy who invented the wireless?”

Goo-Goo said, “Yeh, we heard of him—smart Italian.”

Maxie said, “Now listen closely, Jake. This is what I want you to do, and don't start asking me a lot of silly questions why.”

Jake looked hurt. He asked reproachfully, “Since when did I ever ask you questions, Max?”

Maxie said, “Okay, okay, don't be so goddamn sensitive. You know the Himmelfarb brothers' factory?”

Jake nodded.

Goo-Goo interrupted, “Yeh, Max, I got a cousin who works there.”

Maxie continued: “That's good. I want you to bring this box up there tonight and pick up another box that's lying there just like this one. An even exchange, get it?”

Jake said questioningly, “Tonight? They close their plant at seven. It's after ten already.”

Maxie said impatiently, “If I wanted it delivered when they were there, I would hire a legitimate truckman, not you, you goniff.”

Jake's face broke into a happy smile. “Oh—I get it. You want us to break into the joint?”