‘Hey, Jannie,’ he said in his raspy, waterfront voice. ‘Long time no see. How you been?’
‘I’m not going to tell you,’ I said. ‘Why should we both be miserable? A double brandy, Morris.’
‘What’s with the brandy?’ he said. ‘I never known you to dip your nose in anything but white wine. Something wrong, Jannie?’
‘Ah, hell,’ I said. ‘I got mugged last night, and I still got the shakes.’
I held out a hand and trembled the fingers convincingly.
‘Son of a bitch,’ he said bitterly. ‘You’re the third in the neighborhood this month. You get hurt, God fabbid?’
‘No,’Isaid. ‘Just the shit scared out of me.’
‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘But you weren’t hurt?’
‘No, nothing like that. Just took my wallet. A little over a hundred. Didn’ttouch my credit cards. I guess I was lucky.’
‘You get a good look at him?’
‘What can I tell you? A kid with a knife.’
‘The lousy creep,’ he growled and moved away to wait on a new customer.
‘What did the cops say?’ he asked when he came back.
‘The cops,’ I said scornfully. ‘They took my statement and promised nothing. What can they do? A hundred muggings a night. The animals are taking over. Morrie, I just felt so helpless. He had a knife, and I had nothing. He made me reach into my shoulder bag for my wallet. I swear if I had a gun in there, I would have shot him in the balls.’
‘Just what he deserved,’ Morris said virtuously. ‘Your honest citizen, he can’t carry a gun. The assholes can carry an arsenal.’
‘Morrie,’ I said, staring into his eyes, ‘I’m not going to get mugged again. Not without putting up a fight, I’m not. Do you know how I can get a gun?’
He froze. ‘Aw, babe,’ he said, ‘you don’t want to do that. So what if you plug a guy trying to rob you? Then you’re in trouble with the law.’
‘1 don’t care!’ I told him furiously. ‘I want to be able to fight back. Listen, maybe the next guy will rob me
Again he moved away to wait on another customer. When he came back, he leaned across the bar. I leaned toward him.
‘Well, listen,’ he said in a growly whisper, ‘I think you’re doing the wrong thing. I mean, maybe you miss, and the bentnose decides to shoot you or cut you up, God fabbid.’
‘I’m willing to take my chances.’
‘You know how to handle a piece?’
‘I can learn. Point it and pull the trigger — right?’
‘Well, yeah. Something like that. If your mind is made up, Jannie, maybe I can do something for you.’ ‘How much?’
‘Fifty, a hundred, more,’ he said judiciously. ‘It depends on the iron. Let me get in touch with this guy I know.’
‘When can I meet him?’
‘Drop by tomorrow night,’ Morris said. ‘Or give me a call. I’ll try to have some word for you. You’re absolutely positive you want to do this, Jannie?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said firmly.
‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
ON TARGET
I now had three possible targets I wanted Dick to inspect. We started with a store on the east side of Fifth Avenue, between 54th and 55th Streets. A relatively small shop, one entrance, three clerks, plus a manager and armed guard. Two display windows, with only a few items tastefully exhibited. The vault was in a back room, protected with a steel gate and solid door, both open during selling hours.
We took a look from across the street, then walked by once, then returned to look in the windows, then went in to stroll about. All the employees were busy with customers, so we had an opportunity to wander around and inspect the merchandise in showcases. We chatted, laughed, pointed out items to each other.
After we exited, I took Dick’s arm and led him downtown.
‘Well?’ I asked him. ‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said doubtfully. ‘An awful lot of gold-plated costume jewelry and cultured pearls. I don’t think it would be a big take. Maybe they keep the best stuff in the vault, but that four-thousand-dollar necklace of small diamonds was the most expensive thing I saw. I just don’t think the place is worth the effort.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘The second one’s over on Park, just one more block south.’
This was a larger, more elegant shop with a uniformed doorman, apparently no armed guard, and six clerks on duty, plus a cashier, floor manager, and an aged lady who apparently did nothing but gift-wrap. There were two small television cameras high up in opposite corners, so perhaps that missing armed guard was in a bulletproof cubbyhole, watching TV monitors.
This time we asked to see a diamond solitaire — ‘something in the moderate range’ — and we were shown a gorgeous rock like a miniature ice cube held in platinum claws. Only $18,000. We asked if something better was available. Indeed it was, we were assured, but the manager would prefer to take care of us personally. Unfortunately he was busy. If we would wait a few minutes …?
We told the clerk that we had another appointment.
Outside, to prove our innocence, we paused casually on the sidewalk to light cigarettes before sauntering away.
‘What about that one?’ I asked Dick Fleming.
‘The money is there,’ he acknowledged. ‘Did you see what the manager was showing the woman in the white mink? The emerald bracelet?’
‘Fifty-thousand minimum, I’d guess,’ I said. ‘Wonder where the vault is? In the back?’
‘Or on another floor,’ Dick said. ‘Up one level or down one: But that’s not what’s bothering me. It’s those TV cameras.’
‘Take a look at the last place,’ I said. ‘Then we’ll discuss it.’
My final possible was on East 55th Street, just west of Madison. But I was so impressed by it that I disregarded the business about traffic jams on crosstown streets. The outside was not prepossessing. There were small signs in the windows: ‘Watch and Jewelry Repair. We Buy and Sell Antique Jewelry. Silver, Gold, Precious Gems. Diamonds for Investment.’
Dick turned to me. ‘What’s this — a supermarket?’
‘Take a look,’ I urged.
The place was called Brandenberg amp; Sons. It wasn’t the newest or the most elegant of the shops I had cased, but it was furnished in a kind of quiet, subdued opulence: deep Oriental rugs, upholstered Louis XIV armchairs for customers, small polished walnut showcases with brass corners and hardware. There were three clerks, all handsome young men, wearing navy blazers and grey flannel slacks.
An opened door at the rear afforded a glimpse of an old-fashioned safe. No television cameras here, but there were several silent alarm buttons in plain view. No armed guard to be seen. Steel shutters that could be drawn down at night to protect the outside window displays. The whole place had a genteel, hushed, cathedral atmosphere.
The three clerks were busy. The manager himself approached us. ‘Good afternoon,’ he said, bowing deeply. ‘May I be of service?’
‘I noticed your sign,’ I said. ‘I have a gold pocket watch-’
He spread his hands and raised one shoulder. ‘But of course,’ he said. ‘How old is it?’
‘I have no idea,’ I confessed.
