The Kill-Off

Maybe they don't make nothing like they used to because there's no one to do the making. Nothing but a lot of whining old guys with weep-bags in place of guts.

I guessed I must be slipping. If I'd been like this back at the time I built the post-office building… Well, maybe it would've been a hell of a lot better, I thought. I wouldn't be in the spot I'm in now, and there'd be quite a few less bastards around town to give me trouble.

Yeah, the post-office job was mine. Built it under contract for old Commodore Stuyvesant, Luane Devore's father. It's still the biggest building in town-four stories- and it was a pretty fancy one for those days. The upper three floors were offices, each with its own toilet and lavatory. All the plumbing, the water and drain pipes, was concealed.

Well, we were about through with the job, except for the interior decorating, when I discovered a hell of a thing. I'll never forget the day that it happened. I was up on the fourth floor at the time. I'd taken the chaw out of my mouth and tossed it in the toilet. Then I'd flushed it down and drawn myself a drink from the lavatory. And I was just about to toss it down when I noticed something in the water. A few little brown specks, so tiny you could hardly see them.

I cussed, and dumped out the water. I got myself a can of stain, and went through the building from top to bottom, flushing toilets and turning on faucets. They all turned out the same as the first. They were all cross-connected, to use the plumbing term. You had to be looking for the stain in the water, and looking damned hard, but it was there. Some of the waste water was coming out through the lavatory taps.

You see… Well, you know what the inside of a toilet bowl looks like. It has a water inlet built into it; it has to have to flush; and it also has a sewage outlet. It has the two right together, flowing together. If the plumbing ain't exactly right, some of the sewage can get into the water inlet. Into the water you drink and wash with.

Well, the first thing I did was to cut off the water at the main. Shut off every drop in the building. I told the workmen they'd been screwing around too much on the job, that they could do their washing and drinking on their own time from now on. And they didn't exactly love me for that, naturally. But it was the way it had to be. I couldn't tell them the truth. If I had, it would have got all over town. People would always have been leery of the building. You could fix the trouble, and take an oath on it, but they'd never really believe that you had.

I spent the rest of the day checking the blueprints on the job, tracing out the miles of piping foot by foot. Finally, I spotted what was wrong. It was in the blueprints, the drawings, themselves. Not something that was my fault.

I took the drawings, and went to see the Commodore. Luane was right in the living room with him. And they sure were two damned sick people. I told 'em I didn't see what they had to feel bad about.

'It's the architects' fault,' I said. 'You've got something pretty new here, in this concealed plumbing, but you ain't got a new-style building to put it in. The architects should have known that with all this angling and turning the water pipes were just about bound to get a vacuum in 'em-Yeah, Commodore?'

'I said,' he said, kind of dead-voiced, 'that the architects aren't responsible. The blueprints were drawn up from a rough design I made myself. I insisted on having my own way, despite their objections, and they've got a waiver in writing.'

I asked him why the hell he'd done it-why pay for expert advice and then not listen to it?

He grimaced, almost crying. 'I thought they were trying to run up their bill on me, Pete,' he said. 'The architect gets six percent of the cost of a job, you know, and since I'm not exactly a trusting person…' He broke off, grimacing again. 'Not that I've had much reason to trust people. Offhand, I'd say that you were the only completely honest man I've ever met, Pete.'

'Well-well, thanks, Commodore,' I said. 'I-'

'Have you told anyone about this difficulty, Pete? None of the workmen know? Well, do you suppose that if it wasn't corrected-uh- do you suppose the result might be, uh, very serious?'

'I don't know,' I said. 'Maybe some of the tenants wouldn't be hurt at all. Maybe it might be quite a while before the others came down with anything. I don't know how many might get sick or how many might die, but there's one thing I do know, Commodore. I know I ain't drinking no sewer water myself, and I ain't letting anyone else do it. So-'

I broke off. He was looking so shocked and hurt that I apologized for what I said. Yeah, by God, I apologized to him!

'Quite all right, Pete,' he said. 'Your concern for the public welfare is wholly commendable. Now, getting back to our problem, just what if anything can be done about it?'

I told him. The whole building would have to be repiped. Of course, we could use the same piping but it would have to come out of the walls and be put on the outside. What it actually added up to was ripping out the interior of the building, and doing it over again.

'I see.' He bit his lip. 'What about your men, Pete? How will you explain to them?'

'Well-' I shrugged. 'I'll tell 'em I pulled a boner, and I'm making good on it. That won't hurt me none, and they'll be glad to believe it.'

'I see,' he said again. 'Pete-Pete, I have no right to ask it, but everything I have is tied up in that building. Everything! I've exhausted my credit. If I attempt to get any more the building will be plastered with liens from basement to roof. Once it's finished, I'll be in fine shape. The government will lease the ground floor, and I have tenants signed up for most of the offices. But I can't finish it, Pete, unless- and I have no right at all to ask you-'

Luane was sniffling. He put his arm around her, looking at me apologetically, and after a moment she turned and put her arms around him. It seemed pretty pitiful, you know. I took out my notebook and did some figuring.

I didn't have hardly any ready cash, myself, but my credit was first-class. By stretching it right to the limit, I could finance the rework that had to be done, which would probably tot up to about eight thousand dollars.

Well, the Commodore practically wrung my hand off when I told him I'd do it. And I thought for a minute that Luane was going to kiss me. Then the Commodore gave me his note for ten thousand-ten thousand instead of eight. Because I'd literally saved his and Luane's lives, he said, and even with the two thousand bonus they'd still be eternally in my debt.

Well, I guess I probably don't need to tell you the rest of it, but I'll do it anyway. Just in case you're as dumb as I was.

The Commodore denied that he owed me a red cent for the rework. He said it was due to my own errors, as I'd publicly stated, and that he was contemplating suit against me for failing to follow the architects' specifications.

'Naturally, I'd hate to do it,' he said smoothly, sort of smiling down his nose. 'I imagine you have quite enough problems, as it is.'

I told him that wasn't the only thing I had. I had his note for ten thousand, and I'd collect every penny of it. He shook his head, chuckling.

'I'm afraid not, Pavlov. You see I have no assets; I've transferred everything I owned to my daughter, Luane.'

Luane didn't seem too happy about the deal. I looked at her, and she dropped her eyes; and then she turned suddenly to the Commodore.

'Let's not do this, Father,' she said. 'I know you mean it for my benefit, but-'

'Yes,' the Commodore nodded. 'So the choice is yours. My feeling is that a woman untrained for any work-an unemployable, unmarriageable spinster, to state the case succinctly-is going to need every dollar she can get. But if you feel differently..

He spread his hands, giving her that down-the-nose smile.