workingmen. He sat at a table with a group of what looked like housepainters and said: “I need to trade my car for a truck. Do you know anyone who might be interested?”
One of the men said: “Is it legitimate?”
Lev gave his charming grin. “Give me a break, buddy,” he said. “If it was legit, would I be selling it here?”
He found no takers there or at the next few places he tried, but eventually he ended up at an automobile repair shop run by a father and son. He exchanged the Packard for a two-ton Mack Junior van with two spare wheels in a no-cash, no-papers deal. He knew he was being robbed, but the garageman knew he was desperate.
Late that afternoon he went to a liquor wholesaler whose address he had found in the city directory. “I want a hundred cases of Canadian Club,” he said. “What’s your price?”
“For that quantity, thirty-six bucks a case.”
“It’s a deal.” Lev took out his money. “I’m opening a tavern outside of town, and-”
“No need to explain, pal,” said the wholesaler. He pointed out of the window. On the neighboring vacant lot, a team of building laborers were breaking ground. “My new warehouse, five times the size of this one. Thank God for Prohibition.”
Lev realized he was not the first person to have this bright idea.
He paid the man and they loaded the whisky into the Mack van.
Next day Lev drove back to Buffalo.
Lev parked the van full of whisky on the street outside the Vyalov house. The winter afternoon was turning to dusk. There were no cars on the driveway. He waited a while, tense, expectant, ready to flee, but he saw no activity.
His nerves stretched taut, he got out of the van, walked up to the front door, and let himself in with his own key.
The place was hushed. From upstairs he could hear Daisy’s voice, and the murmured replies of Polina. There was no other sound.
Moving quietly on the thick carpet, he crossed the hall and looked into the drawing room. All the chairs had been pushed to the sides of the room. In the middle was a stand draped in black silk bearing a polished mahogany coffin with gleaming brass handles. In the casket was the corpse of Josef Vyalov. Death had softened the pugnacious lines of the face, and he looked harmless.
Olga sat alone beside the body. She wore a black dress. Her back was to the door.
Lev stepped into the room. “Hello, Olga,” he said quietly.
She opened her mouth to scream, but he put his hand over her face and stopped her.
“Nothing to worry about,” Lev said. “I just want to talk.” Slowly, he eased his grip.
She did not scream.
He relaxed a little. He was over the first hurdle.
“You killed my father!” she said angrily. “What could there be to talk about?”
He took a deep breath. He had to handle this exactly right. Mere charm would not be enough. It would take brains too. “The future,” he said. He spoke in a low, intimate tone. “Yours, mine, and little Daisy’s. I’m in trouble, I know-but so are you.”
She did not want to listen. “I’m not in any trouble.” She turned away and looked at the body.
Lev pulled up a chair and sat close to her. “The business you’ve inherited is shot. It’s falling apart, almost worthless.”
“My father was very wealthy!” she said indignantly.
“He owned bars, hotels, and a liquor wholesaling business. They’re all losing money, and Prohibition has been in force only two weeks. He’s already closed five bars. Soon there will be nothing left.” Lev hesitated, then used the strongest argument he had. “You can’t just consider yourself. You have to think about how you’re going to raise Daisy.”
She looked shaken. “Is the business really going bust?”
“You heard what your father said to me at breakfast the day before yesterday.”
“I don’t really remember.”
“Well, don’t take my word for anything, please. Check it out. Ask Norman Niall, the accountant. Ask anyone.”
She gave him a hard look and decided to take him seriously. “Why have you come to tell me this?”
“Because I’ve figured out how to save the business.”
“How?”
“By importing liquor from Canada.”
“It’s against the law.”
“Yes. But it’s your only hope. Without booze, you have no business.”
She tossed her head. “I can look after myself.”
“Sure,” he said. “You can sell this house for a good sum, invest the proceeds, and move into a little apartment with your mother. Probably you could salvage enough from the estate to keep yourself and Daisy alive for a few years, though you should consider going out to work-”
“I can’t work!” she said. “I’ve never trained for anything. What would I do?”
“Oh, listen, you could be a salesgirl in a department store, you could work in a factory-”
He was not serious and she knew it. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped.
“Then there’s only one option.” He reached out to touch her.
She flinched away. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
“You’re my wife.”
She gave him a strange look.
He put on his most sincere face. “I know I’ve mistreated you, but we loved each other once.”
She made a scornful noise in her throat.
“And we have a daughter to worry about.”
“But you’re going to jail.”
“Unless you tell the truth.”
“What do you mean?”
“Olga, you saw what happened. Your father attacked me. Look at my face-I have a black eye to prove it. I had to fight back. He must have had a weak heart. He may have been ill for some time-it would explain why he failed to prepare the business for Prohibition. Anyway, he was killed by the effort of attacking me, not by the few blows I struck in self-defense. All you have to do is tell the police the truth.”
“I’ve already told them you killed him.”
Lev was heartened: he was making progress. “That’s all right,” he reassured her. “You made a statement in the heat of the moment when you were stricken with grief. Now that you’re calmer, you realize that your father’s death was a terrible accident, brought on by his bad health and his angry tantrum.”
“Will they believe me?”
“A jury will. But if I hire a good lawyer there won’t even be a trial. How could there be, if the only witness swears it wasn’t murder?”
“I don’t know.” She changed tack. “How are you going to get the liquor?”
“Easy. Don’t worry about it.”
She turned in her chair to face him directly. “I don’t believe you. You’re saying all this just to make me change my story.”
“Put your coat on and I’ll show you something.”
It was a tense moment. If she went with him, she was his.
After a pause, she stood up.
Lev hid a triumphant smile.
They left the room. Outside on the street, he opened the rear doors of the van.
She was silent for a long moment. Then she said: “Canadian Club?” Her tone had changed, he noted. It was practical. The emotion had faded into the background.
