The young detective opened the door and they started out. “Ain’t it?” said the big one. “Well, so long.”
As soon as the door closed, Vettori went over and shot the bolt, then peeped out through the shutter. Rico came out of his hiding place.
“Well,” said Vettori, glancing at Rico, “things ain’t going so good.”
Rico shrugged.
“They don’t know nothing. Just feeling around. Listen, Sam, where’s your guts? We got to stick together on this.”
“I know,” said Vettori, falling back into his chair, “but I never seen things break so tough.”
Rico held out a roll of bills.
“Here’s your split, Sam.”
Vettori took the bills and stuffed them into his pocket. Rico handed Otero his. Otero got up and put on his overcoat.
“I think I go see my woman,” he said.
When he had gone, Rico went over and sat down beside Vettori.
“Listen, Sam,” he said, “I been taking orders too long. We’re done. Get the idea? But we got to see this through. We get a break and we’ll come clean. Only we got to shoot straight. See what I mean? I got a rope around my neck right now and they can only hang you once. If anybody gets yellow and squeals, my gun’s gonna speak its piece.”
“That’s OK with me,” said Sam.
They sat silent. Downstairs the jazz band was playing and the saxophone was sending vibrations along the floor. Vettori laid out another game of solitaire.
“Funny for Tony to crash,” he said.
“He lost his nerve,” said Rico.
“You suppose he’ll show?”
“Not till tomorrow if he’s got any sense. I’ll leave his split with you.”
IV
Rico went over to see Ma Magdalena, the fence. Her fruit store was still open and her son Arrigo was sitting half-asleep beside a pile of oranges.
“Hello,” he said.
“Where’s Ma?” asked Rico.
Arrigo pulled a cord which rang a bell in the rooms beyond the store. Ma, leaning on her stick, came out into the store. Seeing Rico, she said:
“Oh, it’s you! Well, well! Come back. Come back.”
“Can I come too, Ma?” said Arrigo.
“You stay and mind the store, you lazy loafer,” said Ma, shaking her stick at him.
Arrigo sat down once more by the pile of oranges.
Rico followed Ma Magdalena back into her little office. She pulled up a chair for him and he sat down, then she got out a bottle.
“You talk, I drink,” she said, sitting down beside him and pouring herself a drink.
Rico took out his split, peeled off a few bills and handed her the rest.
“Plant it,” he said.
She took the roll, counted it, and put it down inside her dress. “Had a big New Year’s Eve, did you?”
“Yeah,” said Rico, “plenty big. There’ll be lots of fun tomorrow.”
“Well, well,” said Ma, “that’s the way it goes.”
She poured herself another glass of wine, then she reached over and touched Rico with her stick.
“Look, Rico, you ain’t got a nice little girl who wants a big diamond ring, have you?”
“Me, buy a diamond ring for a skirt?”
Ma Magdalena made a clucking noise and shook her head. “You are cold, Rico. Don’t like wine. Don’t like women. You are no good, Rico.”
Rico smiled.
“Me, I like women once in a while, but I ain’t putting out no diamond rings.”
Leaving Ma Magdalena’s, Rico went in the direction of Sicily Pete’s.
At Sicily Pete’s the mechanical piano was playing. Three men, all Italians, and two girls, both Americans, were sitting at a front table. They were drunk. They played with their food, spilled their coffee, and banged on the plates with their knives. Pete stood behind the counter, scowling.
When Rico came in he said:
“Hello, my friend, where have you been keeping yourself?”
“I haven’t been around lately. Got some noisy birds, ain’t you?” Pete shrugged his shoulders.
“Yes, the fools. They drink gin. That is no drink for an Italian.” Rico took out his cigarettes and offered Pete one. They stood smoking. One of the girls pulled up her dress and fixed her garter. Rico smiled.
“Get an eyeful of that, Pete.”
“Yes, yes,” said Pete, “that’s all I get, an eyeful. Every night I stand here while other people have a good time.”
The girl looked up at Rico and he winked at her. She said to one of the men:
“Look at that smarty over there. He thinks he’s cute.”
The man looked foggily at Rico. Pete put his hand on Rico’s arm.
“My friend, don’t start no trouble, please. That’s all we have around here, trouble. With one thing and another, I think I go back to Italy.”
Rico turned his back on the girl.
“OK,” he said.
While Pete was getting Rico a cup of coffee, a newsboy came in: “Extra! Extra! All about the big holdup.”
Rico bought a paper and glanced at the three-inch headlines.
Thugs kill Captain Courtney
in Casa Alvarado holdup
Rico showed Pete the paper.
“Another killing,” he said.
“Yes,” said Pete, “kill, kill, that’s all they do. I wish to God I was back in Sicily. The Mafia, what is that? That is a kindergarten.”
One of the Italians bought a paper and started to read the account of the holdup aloud. All the people round the table stopped eating to listen. Rico sipped his coffee and watched them.
V
Tony hadn’t slept all night. He lay in the cold dark room, sweating. The covers felt as heavy as lead and from time to time he tossed them off, only to pull them over him again as the lake wind, streaming in the window, made him shiver. At intervals he would fall into a doze. Then he would see a windy street, feel a car skidding under him, feel a sickening jolt. He would wake with a start and sit up in bed.
“They’ll get us for this,” he kept repeating, “they’ll get us sure.”
Tony smoked cigarette after cigarette. In his despair he cast about for someone to put the blame on. It was all Midge’s fault. Wasn’t she always after him to make more jack so she could put on the dog? Hadn’t he tried to go straight and drive a taxi and make
