things seem to me there. It's the only way! can work. If I had to ask you every time I wanted to make a move-well, I just couldn't do it. I-I'm not telling you where to get off, but-'
'Of course not,' he nodded warmly. 'After all, we're all intent on the same goal. We're all friends. We all have a great deal to gain… or lose. You understand that part don't you, Charlie? Murph made it clear to you?'
'He did, but he didn't need to.'
'Good. Now, about the time. You'll naturally be governed to an extent by the local factors, but the optimum date would be about a week before the trial. That will allow you to become firmly integrated into the life of the town, to allay the suspicion which always attaches to a stranger. Also, by disposing of Jake at the approximate time of the trial, the newspapers will have less to feed upon; there will only be one story instead of two.'
'I'll try to handle it that way,' I said.
'Fine. Splendid. Now… Oh, yes'-his smile faded-'one more thing. Murph tells me that you pulled a knife on him. Actually stabbed him in the back of the neck.'
'He shouldn't have been there in Peardale. You know he shouldn't, sir.'
'Perhaps not. But that doesn't excuse your actions. I don't like that at all, Charlie.' He shook his head sternly.
I looked down at the floor and kept my mouth shut.
'Would you mind waiting out in the reception room, Murph? I have quite a few things to say to Charlie.'
'I don't mind,' said Fruit Jar. 'Take your time.' And he sauntered out of the room, grinning.
The Man chuckled softly, and I looked up. He was holding out the knife to me.
'Could you use it again, Charlie?'
I stared at him-pretty blankly, I guess. He put the knife in my hand and closed my fingers around it.
'You killed his brother,' he said. 'Did you know that?'
'Christ no!' So that was it! 'When-what-?'
'I don't know the details. It was in Detroit, 1942, I believe.'
Detroit, 1942. I tried to place him, and of course I couldn't, The name wouldn't have meant anything. And there'd been four-no, five in Detroit.
'I was disturbed by the way he felt toward you. I made a few inquiries… It won't do, Charlie. He's stupid and vengeful. He could blow things higher than a kite,'
'Yeah,' I said, 'but… tonight?'
'Tonight. You haven't been here, Charlie. He was here to see me about a financial matter. I walked out to the car with him when he left. I saw him stop down there on the highway and pick up a hitchhiker. In fact, Toko and I both saw him.'
He chuckled again.
'You understand my position, Charlie? I depended on Murph, and he failed me. How long would I last if I tolerated failure in the people I depend upon? I simply can't do it, Charlie, regardless of the person or cost. The whole system is based on swift punishment and prompt reward.'
'I understand,' I said.
'In that case-' He stood up. 'How about another drink before you leave?'
'I guess not.' I said. 'I mean, no, thanks, sir.'
He walked out to the car with Fruit Jar and me, walked between us with an arm around each of our shoulders. He shook hands with both of us, and stood at the side of the car talking a moment.
'A beautiful evening,' he said, breathing in deep. 'Smell that air, Charlie? I'll bet Arizona doesn't have anything finer than that.'
'No, sir,' I said.
'I know. There's no place like Arizona, is there? Well-' He gave Fruit Jar a playful punch on the arm. 'Why don't I see more of you these days, hey? Not for business. Just a little quiet get-together?'
'Well, say'-Fruit Jar began to puff up-'just say the word, and-'
'We'll make it Sunday… No, no I'll come to see you.' He stepped back from the car beaming. 'Sunday afternoon, say. I'll look forward to it-'
Fruit Jar drove away, so swelled up that he could hardly sit behind the wheel. And I wanted to burst out laughing. Or crying. Because he was a no-good son-of-a-bitch, but! felt sorry for him.
'I guess you got told off,' he said, flicking a glance at me. 'You're lucky he didn't do nothin' but eat you out.'
'He told me off,' I said. 'I'm lucky.'
'You think me'n him ain't like that? You think he didn't mean that about coming to see me?'
I shook my head. The Man would see him all right. He'd have a quiet get-together with him Sunday afternoon.
They'd have Fruit Jar embalmed by that time.
9
The trouble with killing is that it's so easy. You get to where you almost do it without thinking. You do it instead of thinking.
… I told Fruit Jar that I'd take the subway into town, and he drove me over near Queens Plaza. I had him pull up there in the shadows of the elevated, and I said. 'I'm sorry as hell, Fruit Jar. Will you accept an apology?' And he was feeling good, so he stuck out his hand and said, 'Sure, kid. Long as you put it that way, I-'
I jammed his right hand between my knees. I gripped the fingers of his left hand, bending them back, and I snapped the knife open.
'J-Jesus-' His eyes got wider and wider, and his mouth hung open like the mouth of a sack, and the slobber ran down his chin, thick and shiny. 'W-whatcha d-doin'… whatcha… aaahhhhh…'
I gave it to him in the neck. I damned near carved his Adam's apple out. I took the big silk handkerchief out of his breast pocket, wiped my hands and the knife, and put the knife in his pocket. (That would give them something to think about.) Then I shoved him down on the floor of the car, and caught the train into town.
And I hadn't ridden to the next station before I saw what a fool I'd been.
Fruit Jar… He could have told me. I could have made him tell me-the thing that might mean the difference between my living and dying. And now he couldn't tell me.
His brother… HIS BROTHER HELL! I almost yelled it out; I think I did say it. But I was up in the front of the car by myself, and no one noticed. People hardly ever notice me. And maybe that's the reason I'm…
His brother… Detroit, 1942… not sure of the details… Not sure! The Man wasn't sure! Christ Almighty. As if he'd have hauled Fruit Jar into this deal without knowing every damned last thing there was to know about him!
He'd hauled him in. FruitJar had been sitting pretty with no heat on him and a swell income, and The Man had hauled him in on something that could be very hot. He couldn't say no to The Man. He couldn't even let on that he didn't like it. But he didn't like it; he was sore as hell. And since he couldn't take it out on The Man, he'd taken it out on me.
That was the trouble. Just what I'd thought it was all along. It must have been that… I guessed.
His brother. Even if he'd had a brother, even if he'd had fifty-five brothers and I'd killed them all, he wouldn't have done anything about it. Not, anyway, until after I'd done my job. I should have known that. I did know it when I stopped to think. But The Man had shot me the line fast, and I wasn't thinking. Why think when it's so easy to kill?
