He was a been-around man, no doubt of that. He knew Philadelphia as, I presumed, he knew every big city in the country. We parked the Ford in the lot of a shopping center and agreed to meet there again at 5:00 P.M. If anyone was more than thirty minutes late — goodbye, Charlie; it would be assumed he had been nabbed and the Ford would take off.
Donohue told Dick and me the best downtown streets to canvass. He saw us into a cab, my purse jammed with rings and Dick’s pockets sagging with watches. He waved as we drove away.
‘Fun,’Dick said.
Ilooked at him.
He was laughing and excited; that was obvious. He was eager, anxious to test his bravery and wit. He had always been — well, I guess effete is the best word to describe him. But the events of the past twenty-four hours had remade him. He seemed more positive, more thrusting. He leaned forward, a half-smile on his lips, eyes bright and blinking.
I almost asked him about last night, about him and Jack Donohue in Room 9, if anything … But how can you ask a question like that?
In all honesty, Dick wasn’t the only one enjoying this test of his criminal talents. I admit to a kind of don’t- give-a-damn mood. Perhaps because of what had happened, what I had done or participated in. But it was more than that. It was a wild freedom, an absolute kicking over of the traces. Maybe every criminal feels that way; I don’t know. All I can do is describe it as an exhilarating madness. With all shackles of
habit, logic, and morality thrown off and discarded, you want to see how far you can go. You want to fly, just go with it, push it to its limits: lie and cheat and steal and, if need be, kill.
It’s civilization turned inside out. No becomes yes, and black is white. Anything goes.
It went, for me, like a hilarious dream. The first jewelry store I hit was a mom-and-pop shop that had a sign in the window: ‘We Buy and Sell Gold, Diamonds, Silver.’ I took off the wedding band Jack Donohue had told me to wear, and slipped it into my purse, put on the Mt. Everest of solitaires set in what I guessed to be platinum, but could have been white gold.
‘Yes, lady?’ the proprietor said, coming forward, smiling. ‘Can 1 help you?’
‘I want to sell this,’ I said, sticking out my left hand.
He held my fingers, peered down at the ring.
‘Let me have a look,’ he said, neatly slipping the ring away. It came off easily. ‘Too big,’he said.
‘I’ve lost weight.’
‘It happens.’
‘It should happen to you,’ his wife mumbled, hovering nearby.
‘Sha,’ he said, going behind the counter. He adjusted a lamp, screwed a loupe into his eye, bent over the ring.
‘Why should you want to sell this?’ he asked casually, inspecting the diamond.
‘I’ve just got a divorce. I don’t want to own anything that reminds me of that monster.’
‘He beat you?’ the wife asked, horrified.
‘You wouldn’t believe,’ I told her.
‘Jake, you hear?’ the wife said.
‘I hear,’ he said, turning the ring this way and that. ‘That also happens. Count your blessings.’
‘Some blessings,’ the wife said scornfully.
‘Well,’ Jake asked, looking up at me. ‘How much were you thinking of asking for this little stone?’
‘Five thousand,’ I answered bravely.
‘Five
‘That’s what my husband — my ex-husband told me he paid for it.’ ‘He
‘Five
‘Sha. Sha sha — Don’t get angry. Let’s talk like civilized people. The ring is worth maybe a thousand in today’s market. Retail. All right, fifteen hundred tops. But can I buy it for that? Of course I can’t. My rent: seven- fifty a month. Insurance. Utilities. My clerk, he should drop dead already, a cousin yet, who refuses to come in on weekends, another thousand a month. So I give you retail price, and what do I get?
I caught on: it was a game. He was enjoying it. To tell you the truth, I was too. I knew he wanted the ring. I had made the sale; the only question that remained was, how much?
We went at it hot and heavy, Mom chiming in now and then when the argument flagged. He pointed out a small scratch in the setting. I pointed out the exquisite cut of the stone. He came up slowly; I came down just as slowly.
Finally we struck a bargain: one thousand, six hundred and fifty.
We smiled at each other, both satisfied.
‘In cash,’I said.
His smile faded.
‘Cash? Look around you, lady. Does this look like a store I get that much money maybe in a drawer? Under the rug? My check is good. Believe me; good as gold.’
‘I’m sure it is. But the banks are closed today. I’m leaving for Miami tonight. I need the cash.’
‘Jake, did you hear?’ the wife chimed in. ‘Miami. The children. That’s where we should be — Miami.’
‘Cash,’ he said dolefully. ‘I’m sorry, lady. That kind of cash I don’t have.’
‘How much do you have?’ I asked. A mistake.
‘I could maybe scrape together one thousand five,’ he said. ‘Possibly.’
So I walked out of there with one-five. Both of them escorted me to the door and wished me the best of luck in my new life in Miami. I knew when I was beaten.
Still, my first sale had netted fifteen hundred dollars. And my first thought was of how proud of me Jack Donohue would be. My second thought was that I wasn’t the only thief involved in that transaction. Admittedly I was selling stolen goods. But, in a way, they had stolen, too. Maybe they guessed it was a hot rock. But in any event they had taken advantage of my ignorance and had paid a pittance for a ring I was certain was worth much more.
My other sales weren’t that easy, and none yielded as much. In two stores I was turned away rudely when I couldn’t produce proof of purchase. A few others offered ‘take it or leave it’ terms, and I accepted. Two others offered checks and refused to pay cash.
The last place I entered was interesting. The proprietor, a youngish, baldish man with bad breath and a black patch over one eye, immediately paid in cash the price I asked for a Victorian gold wedding band engraved with vines and leaves.
‘Happy to do business with you, miss,’ he said with a ghastly smile. ‘If you have any, ah, comparable merchandise to offer, I’ll be happy to take a look at it. Top prices.’
‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘I may take you up on that.’
‘Then I can expect you to come back?’ he asked hopefully.
‘We’ll see,’ I told him, smiling sweetly.
Are we all thieves?
By that time my feet were aching. I had unloaded seven rings and was carrying almost five thousand dollars in my shoulder bag. It was then getting on to 4:30 P.M., and I figured it was time to start back. I walked two more blocks, caught a cab, and arrived at the shopping center parking lot well before the deadline.
Dick Fleming was leaning against the Ford with a watermelon grin.
‘How’d you make out?’ he asked me.
‘Almost five grand.’
The grin faded a little.
‘My God,’ he said. ‘I did two and thought that was great.’
‘My stuff was worth more,’ I comforted him. ‘Easier to peddle.’
We were exchanging stories of our experiences when Jack Donohue and Hymie Gore pulled up in the same cab. They paid off the driver and walked over to us. I could tell things had gone well by the way Black Jack walked: a jaunty, bouncing stride, his arms swinging.
