her. I was definitely going soft in the head department: that radio I bought I'd been using to listen to her on that silly soap opera- though I never admitted that to her.
At nine-thirty, after 'Just Plain Bill,' just as I was getting ready to walk over to the bank, a messenger delivered an envelope to me with a thousand-dollar bill in it.
There was also a note- 'For services rendered'- typed on a sheet of Louis Piquett's law firm's stationery.
I called Piquett up; his secretary, after checking with him, put me through.
'I trust you've received my message. Mr. Heller. I hope it was satisfactory.'
'Best message I've had in some time. But why? I didn't deliver on what your client hired me for. The man I was sent to protect isn't with us anymore, you know.'
'Correct. And you haven't received the full ten thousand dollars promised, either. But my client does recognize you performed your services as best as circumstances would allow, and felt services rendered should be compensated.'
'Thank your client for me.'
'I will. And we're sorry for the delay in getting this message to you. My client's business transactions don't move as swiftly as they did before his confinement.'
'I understand. Thanks. Mr. Piquett.'
'My pleasure.'
I got up from the desk and folded the thousand and put it in my pocket; too bad I didn't bank with
Dawes- it would've saved me a trip. Of course the only banking I did with anybody these days was keep a safe-deposit box. Maybe happy days were here again; but bankings days weren't, as far as I was concerned.
The Dawes bank was on the comer of LaSalle and Adams, in the shadow of the Board of Trade Building and across from the Rookery, and was as pompous as the General himself: a massive graystone edifice with stone lion heads lording it over eight three-story pillars cut out of its face, little stone lions lurking above like regal gargoyles. A corridor ran the length of the building clear over to Wells Street, through a promenade of shops; the bank was on the second floor. Dawes had his office on the third. Just off the street entrance were rows of elevators on either side, and my uncle Louis- wearing a gray suit the price of which would feed a family of four for as many months- was pacing between them, getting in people's way.
'You're late.' he said, barely opening his mouth, which was like a gash under his salt-and-pepper mustache.
'My limo stalled,' I said.
He glared at me and we got on an elevator empty but for the operator; we had it all to ourselves. There's nothing like a family reunion.
'I hope you realize the position you've put me in.' Uncle Louis said.
'What position is that?'
He glared at me again, and for the rest of the ride stood fuming silently, possibly searching for the words to put me in my place, but not finding them before the elevator operator opened the door for us at the third floor.
My uncle led me to a door without any lettering on it; inside was a male secretary at a desk in a large wood- paneled anteroom. The secretary nodded at us and buzzed us through, into a big bleak office that was more dark paneling with one of the walls covered by photos of the General and notables.
Dawes was sitting behind a big mahogany desk on which the stacks of papers were so neat it looked posed; so did the General, in a blue pinstripe, his hand touching his pipe. He didn't rise; his stern expression apparently meant he wasn't pleased with me. either.
'Sit down, gentlemen,' he said.
There were chairs waiting for us; we filled them.
'Mr. Heller,' the General said, then clarified: '
I pretended to be surprised. 'Was I meant to keep our business arrangement a secret?'
Dawes sucked on the pipe; his brow was knit. 'What business arrangement is that?'
'We spoke in December, at Saint Hubert's. You suggested that I let the chips fall where they may and tell the true story at the Nitti trial. In return, as a token of gratitude for performing this possibly dangerous civic duty, I was to be paid three thousand dollars for working with your security people at the fair, to help control the anticipated pickpocket problem there.'
Dawes relit his pipe. It was an elaborate operation. He said, 'I believe you're quite aware that the situation has changed since we spoke.'
'The truth is still the truth. And a bargain is still a bargain.'
'And Mayor Cermak is deceased.'
'Yes. But what does that have to do with our contract?'
'I don't remember signing a contract with you, Mr. Heller.'
'We had a verbal contract. My uncle here was witness to that.'
Uncle Louis went pale as death.
I said, 'I'm sure my uncle will attest to that.'
My uncle said, 'Nathan, please, you're being most rude- '
