The Hoods (39 page)

I shook Maxie by the arm. I whispered in his ear. We retreated to the bar. I poured two drinks. Max cooled off. We turned back to the guy.

I said, “How much other cash you got lying around? We won all the money Si had in the office. You got any more lying around?”

“You fellas will give me a break?” he whimpered hopefully.

“We keep our word, bastard. We aren't like you,” Max said.

“A deal is a deal,” I assured him. “What's on your mind?”

“I have some more money on the premises. I'll give you all of it. You let me go?”

“How much you got?” I asked.

“Forty-five thousand.”

“Yeh, it's a deal. Where you got it?” I asked.

“You promise to keep your word?” he whimpered.

“Yes, we promise,” I assured him. “Where do you keep it?”

“I got it right here in the joint,” he mumbled.

“Where in the joint?”

“In the refrigerator.”

“In the ice box?” I asked incredulously.

“Yes, I got it in the office refrigerator.”

“Okay, let's go.”

Max motioned him to get up. We followed him into the office. He opened the door of the refrigerator. All we could see was the milk bottles. He put his hand in and tugged. He was trying to get the ice cube tray out. The one I had tried to get for our drinks earlier in the day.

“In there?” I asked, surprised.

He nodded.

“For forty-five grand, I'll dull my blade,” I said. I started to chip away. I picked with my knife all around the tray. I gave a strong yank. I almost fell over backward with the tray. It was a solid block of ice in my hand.

The ice wasn't transparent. It was cloudy.

I asked him, “You mixed the water with milk when you froze it?”

“Yes,” he said weakly.

We took the block of ice into the toilet and put it under the faucet. The water loosened up the ice. I tapped it gently with my knife. A package wrapped in white oilskin appeared.

Maxie unwrapped it. He counted ninety five-hundred dollar bills in the bundle.

“This is okay,” Max said in delight.

The guy asked warily, “All right, then? You let me go? I can operate the casino?”

“Look, I didn't promise you could operate the casino. Don't try to outsmart me by putting words in my mouth. All I said was we'll let you go,” Maxie said angrily. “What do you think—I was made with a finger, bastard?”

Maxie took Cockeye aside and whispered to him for a while. All I could overhear was the one word “gasoline.”

Cockeye said, “Okay,” and left the building.

Maxie turned to Patsy. “Stay with that goornough.”

He turned to me. “Come on, Noodles.”

We went down into the cellar. Goo-Goo and the guard were resting comfortably. They were drunk.

I said, “How you feeling, Goo-Goo boy?”

“Copasetic,” he said with a silly smile all over his face.

“We're going to move you, okay, Goo-Goo?” Max asked.

“I don't care what you do,” Goo-Goo giggled.

Big Max picked him up gently in his arms. Over his shoulder he said, “Everybody upstairs. You guys bring him up.” He nodded to the casino employees to carry upstairs the guy shot in the leg.

We all walked through the office toward the bar. Patsy remained in the office guarding the boss of the casino.

We propped the two wounded men comfortably on the dice table. I poured drinks for everybody.

Maxie faced the group.

“Sorry we had to be a little rough with you guys,” he said. “Your loyalty to that cheap sonofabitch was more than he deserved. We're putting the bum out of action completely. No more casino for him. He's finished. Forget all about us or I guarantee I come back and bury the lot of you.”

Maxie went down the line waving the lead sprayer under their quivering noses.

Maxie took money out of his pocket. He counted out one thousand dollars and walked to the guy with the eight slugs in his legs. “One G for you until you get back on your feet.”

For the moment the guy looked dumbly at Maxie's extended hand. Then the combination of pain, fear, drinks and money got him. He was laughing and crying at the same time. Finally, he stuck out his hand.

In a drunken emotional voice, he said, “Thank you, Mister. You're a fine man. Thank you.”

Maxie handed the guy whose nose was broken five hundred dollars. He also gave Si, the cashier, five hundred dollars. The rest, he gave two hundred apiece.

I kidded Max. I said, “You giving these guys severance pay?”

Cockeye came to the doorway. He called out. “Hey, Max, I got it.”

“Okay, leave it outside.”

Max turned back to the group and warned them again. “From here on, you guys saw nothin', heard nothin', and know nothin' or—” Maxie patted the Tommy significantly.

Max and I went outside. There were two five-gallon cans of gasoline standing by the door. Maxie tapped them with his foot. “Full?”

“To the top,” Cockeye said.

A Buick and a Plymouth were in the parking space.

Max said, “I guess the Buick must be Loudmouth's. Noodles, let's get everybody going.” Max walked briskly back into the building.

With compassionate care he picked Goo-Goo up, gently laid him on the back seat of our Caddy.

The guy wounded in the legs we carried into the Buick. Maxie turned to Si. “You drive?” he inquired.

“Yes,” Si answered.

“Okay, take the wheel of the Buick. The rest of you guys in the Plymouth. Jake, you drive. Pipy, you help Jake chaperone those fellas.”

Maxie continued snapping out orders. “Si, you follow the Caddy. Jake, you keep behind the Buick, okay?” They nodded.

He walked over to Cockeye at the wheel of the Caddy. “Drive down the road around that bend.” Maxie pointed. Cockeye nodded. “Wait for us there.”

Cockeye said, “Bight.”

The three-car caravan started. We waited until they were out of sight around the bend.

Max picked up a five-gallon tin. He motioned for Patsy to pick up the other. “Pat, you go down the cellar and sprinkle three quarters of your tin down there. Careful now, spread the stuff all over. But look out for your clothes.”

Pat gave a curt nod and went down the stairway with the tin.

“You wait here, Noodles. I'll take care of upstairs.” Maxie disappeared up in the attic with the tin.

I looked around the main floor with regret. It seemed too beautiful a set-up to destroy. Plenty of dough could be made in this joint if properly handled. I bet the Combination could clear a half million a year if they operated it by giving the player a break. I thought Maxie was acting a little too drastically, too hastily. It was in his hands. I guessed he figured this was the only cure. Maybe the joint was too loused up for the Combination to handle. Oh well, it was probably for the best, but it did seem a shame. Such a beautiful set-up.

Maxie came down first. He asked, “Pat still down there?”

I nodded. “He must be doing a good job,” I said.

Maxie went to work briskly on the main floor, swishing gasoline around with the motions of a porter sprinkling water on the floor.

Pat came up grinning. “Boy, did I do a good job!” he said.

“Okay, Pat, finish emptying your tin on the other end of the room.” Max gestured with his thumb.

Regretfully I watched them wetting everything down with conscientious care.

When they had finished, Max said, “Okay, Pat, down the cellar for you. You got matches?”

Patsy nodded.

“Take this wad of paper to work with.” Maxie was rolling up a newspaper. He gave it to Patsy.

Maxie prepared more wads of newspapers. “Okay, Noodles, you work here. I'll work upstairs. Be careful,” Maxie cautioned.

I went to the far end of the room. I lit the newspaper into a torch. The rest was simple. All I did was touch the saturated floor and furniture. It lit up instantly.

The roaring flames seemed to do something to me emotionally. I felt like running around, shouting and laughing. It was wonderfully exhilarating. I guess everybody has a little of the instinct of a firebug.

Maxie came down the stairs laughing. He shouted, “How you doing, Noodles? Patsy still down there? He's a conscientious worker, isn't he?”

Maxie laughed as he ran to the trap door. He shouted down, “Hey, Pat, come on up. Aren't you finished yet?”

Patsy appeared through the smoke. He was black with soot but smiling.

We ran out of the roaring building. The three of us were laughing like kids. We stopped a little distance away to admire our handiwork.

“Goddamn, isn't that a beautiful picture?” Maxie was dancing around. “Some fun. Just like election night on the East Side.”

He slapped me on the back. He did a jig step on the lawn.

It took a minute for the flames to work their way through the roof. Then they swept down the sides until the entire building was enveloped. We heard a fire siren go off in the distance. We ran all the way to the Caddy.

The three-car caravan took the highway back to New York. We rode about twenty miles. Then, under Maxie's direction, we pulled into a secluded sideroad and stopped.

“Jake, Pipy, and you, Loudmouth, get into the Caddy,” Maxie ordered curtly.

He went over to the guy shot in the legs. He asked, “How you feeling, boy?”

“I'm beginning to get the pain back. I ain't got no more whiskey left,” he answered, grimacing.

“Okay, then back home for you, boy. Hey, Si, as soon as you hit town, take this guy right over to a hospital.”

“Yes, I certainly will,” Si said.

“Okay. One of you guys drive?” Max asked.

A guard slid behind the wheel of the Plymouth. We watched the two cars turn back to the highway in the direction of town.

“What are you going to do with me?” Loudmouth asked fearfully.

“Don't worry, chum,” Maxie replied grimly.

He whimpered hopelessly, “You promised to let me go.”

We didn't answer him. The guy looked from one impassive face to the other. We drove down the deserted road about five miles, then stopped.

Maxie barked, “Okay, Loudmouth. This is for you.”

He obeyed like a somnambulist. Max and I walked him deep into the woods. We put him up against a tree. Max shoved his forty-five into the guy's ear. He rasped, “Pray, bastard.”

He got down on his knees. Unintelligible moaning sounds came out of his mouth.

Maxie laughed in his face. He put the gun back in his holster.

“Okay, bastard, this time we keep our word. If you squawk about anything or try to get back into any of your past activities, you'll be food for the worms. You promise?”

The guy slumped to the ground sobbing weakly, “Yes, I swear in the name of the Holy Mother.”

“Besides,” Maxie continued, “we have an ace in the hole to keep you in line, in case you forget. We have your phony election book set-up. I may send them to the opposition party, get it? The best thing you can do for yourself is retire.”

“Yes,” he barely managed to say. “I've had enough. Honest, I promise I'll do as you say.”

Maxie turned on his heel. We left him sitting on the ground. His head was in his hands, and he sobbed inconsolably.

When we came back to the Caddy, Patsy said, “We didn't hear no shot. Did you give him the business, Noodles? With the shiv?”

“No, Maxie just scared him,” I answered briefly.

Part way to town, about ten miles up the highway, we doubled on our tracks and took the road cross-country to Philly.

When we hit the outskirts, Maxie called Loo-Loo, the boss of Philly, on the phone. He wasn't in. He got Johnny, his right-hand man, instead. We made a rendezvous with him on Market Street. He met us. He directed us to a discreet private hospital on a side street.

We carried Goo-Goo in. The doctor went to work on him immediately. He probed the bullet out of his shoulder.

Max spoke to Loo-Loo's man, Johnny.

“We want to hole up for a couple of days in town, just in case. Can you fix us up?”

The hood pursed his lips. “Just a minute.” He went over to the doc. They engaged in a whispered conversation. The doctor smiled and nodded his head. Loo-Loo's man came back to us and said, “This place okay for you guys?”

“This place is okay by us,” Max said.

“With nurse service?” Cockeye asked hopefully.

The doctor laughed. “We don't have any nurses around unless I'm doing an abortion.”

It was a shabby ten-room wooden house. We had the run of the place. Besides the doctor and ourselves, the only other occupant was a stooped-over old man who did the cooking and cleaning. The old man was oblivious to what was going on. He went about his business talking to himself.

Cockeye said, “He must have plenty of dough in the bank.”

“Speaking of dough,” Max said. “That reminds me. Let's divvy up.”