Savage Night

'This board money doesn't amount to anything,' I said, 'and I don't see how he can make any dough in that shop of his. How do you keep going?'

'You call this going?'

'It takes dough. Quite a bit with Jake hitting the whiz so hard.'

'We-el, he does have some business, Carl. Me'-she guffawed and put her hand over her mouth-'I'd be afraid I'd get scalped. But everyone knows him and knew his folks, and he has some trade. On Fridays and Saturdays, you know, when all the shops are busy. And he's usually hanging around there, at night, staying open, when the other shops are closed.'

One day-Wednesday, I think it was, when she brought my lunch up-I asked her if Jake had ever mentioned going back to jail.

She shook her head firmly. 'For ten years? He couldn't take it when he was being paid off heavy- when he knew he'd be taken care of when he got out. They wouldn't play with him any more, would they, Carl? If he was willing? He'd just do his time and they'd get him when it was over?'

I nodded. 'If they couldn't arrange to get him inside… Why in hell did he do it anyway, Pay? I know the cops probably shot him a big line about how they'd protect him and no one would dare touch him because it just wouldn't be good business, but-'

'And how! I hated to lose out on that payoff money, but I didn't think-no one seemed to think that-'

'Jake must have known how it would be. Hell, look at the way he started slipping. Hitting the jug and letting himself go. Look at the way he blew up when he spotted me.'

'Yeah. Well-' She shook her head again. 'Why do we do anything? He was going nuts in jail. He felt like he'd been the fall guy for the rest of the crowd, and the money he was getting wasn't doing him any good. So-'

That was about the size of the matter. I knew it. I'd been briefed on every phase of the deal, just what had happened and why and how it had happened.

But I wanted her to tell me, anyway.

'Why doesn't he turn himself into custody? Stay in the jug until after the trial is over?'

'Why?' She frowned at me, puzzled.

'That's what I said. If he's so sure I'm-someone's going to bump him off to keep him from talking, why-?'

'But, honey. What good would that do? They'd get him afterwards.'

'Yeah, sure,' I said. 'That's the way it would be, all right.'

Her frown deepened a little.

'Honey… You're not-not getting nervous, are you?'

'About him?' I forced a laugh. 'Not a chance. He's in the bag and I'm all set to sew it up.'

'How? Tell me, Carl.'

I hadn't meant to tell her so soon. The safest way would have been to keep itto myself right up to the last minute. But-well, I'd got her a little worried with all that questioning. And it looked to me like I'd better show her I was right on the ball before she got more worried.

'Here's the deal,' I said. 'We'll pick a weekend night when Ruth's gone home to her folks, and-'

She, Pay, would set Jake up. She'd meet him downtown earlier and see that he didn't get too much to drink. Then she'd go on home, after she had him good and teased up, to get ready for what she'd promised to give him.

'Make him believe it,' I said. 'Make him want it so bad he can taste it. Know what! mean?'

'I know. Go on, Carl.'

'Okay. You go on home. He gives you a few minutes, and then he follows you. I'll be watching at the door of the bakery, and! follow him. I catchup with him at the steps, pop his neck and drop him off on his head. I beat it back to the bakery, and you discover him. You heard him stumble, see, like he's always stumbling on those steps. That's it.'

'How will you-his neck-?'

'It's easy. You don't have to worry about that.'

'Well, gosh. It-it sounds so… so simple!'

'You want it hard?'

'Well, no-' Her frown went away and she laughed. 'When do we do it, Carl?'

'I'll let you know. Not for weeks yet.'

'Gee,' she said, wonderingly. 'Imagine me thinking you might be getting a little sca- worried!'

'Are you kidding?' I said.

'Gee,' she said, again. 'You tough little bastard, you!'

… Kendall was in to see me at least twice a day. He fussed around over me like I was a two-year- old kid, feeling my forehead and asking me if I didn't want this or that or the other, then kind of scolding me about smoking too much and not taking better care of myself.

'You really must, Mr. Bigelow. So much depends on it,' he'd say.

And I'd say, 'Yes, sir, Mr. Kendall. I understand.'

It seemed that quite a few guys had got themselves locked into the cold-storage room at one time or another, and he took it for granted that I'd done the same. He also took it for granted that I'd opened that side door of the bakery for some reason, and left it unlocked.

And, of course, I didn't correct him. I didn't point out that he'd done it himself when he was trying out the new key.

Kendall usually managed to be around when the doctor came to see me, but he and the doc didn't do much talking after the first couple visits. Kendall didn't want to be told that I was in bad shape, and Dodson apparently wasn't a guy to pull his punches. So, after the first couple visits, when Kendall argued with him and kept calling him a pessimist, the doctor got sort of grim and clammed up. About all he'd say was I'd be all right this time-but. 'But,' he'd say, and let it go at that.

And Kendall would be pretty red-faced and huffy, and almost glare at him until he got out of my room.

'A pessimist,' he'd say, huffily. 'Always looking on the dark side of everything… You are feeling better, aren't you, Mr. Bigelow?'

'Sure, Sure, I feel fine, Mr. Kendall,' I'd say.

Thursday evening, he asked me about a dozen times if I was feeling better and if I was sure I should get up the next day.. after that he got pretty quiet for a time. And when he spoke again it was about that little cabin he had up in Canada.

'It might be just the thing for you, Mr. Bigelow. In case, that is, that your health should worsen and you should not-uh-be able to carry out your plans here.'

'I'm all right,' I said. 'I'll be able to carry them out, Mr. Kendall.

'I'm sure of it. It would indeed be tragic if you could not. But, in case… It would be ideal for you, Mr. Bigelow. You could take my car, and living would be very cheap and-I assume you have some money but I would be very happy to help-'

'I have most of what I got from my filling station,' I said. 'But it's awfully nice of you to offer-'

'Not at all. You're more than welcome to any help I can give you… What do you think about it, Mr. Bigelow, as a more or less pleasant solution to an unpleasant eventuality? You'd have complete quiet, the most favorable conditions for rest and study. The nearest town is forty miles away, accessible enough by car but far