I completed the transaction with her, more as a gesture of conformity than from any particular interest in her, gave her the fifty dollars she asked for, added ten more for no reason that I could think of, and she left. I’d have to try again tomorrow.
I awoke around seven, went through that first terrible instant of remembering that left me sick and shaking, and then tried to appraise it clinically to see if it was any better or worse than on preceding mornings. It appeared to be about the same. Well, it would go away in time.
I had coffee and orange juice sent up, and put in an hour’s practice on the signature. From now on, it was dangerous. The traveler’s checks didn’t mean anything; nobody ever bothered to look at the signatures unless they’d been reported stolen. But now it was banks, who were notoriously touchy on the subject. Then I reminded myself for the hundredth time that I was being silly. I was overlooking the point of the whole thing, the real beauty of it.
The only thing I was going to forge, aside from a receipt which would be filed without even a glance, was the endorsement of a check. And who ever looked at that unless there was some question it was the payee who had cashed it? It was just as she had pointed out to me the first time. As far as anybody in the world knew—except the two of us—I was Harris Chapman. I acknowledged receipt of the check, told the man who’d sent it to me that I’d cashed it, and that was the end of the line. And as for getting the money out of the bank—that was the real honey of the deal; I wouldn’t be trying to copy a signature, because it would be my own. Not my name, of course, and it would be only my version of Harris Chapman’s signature, but it would be what was on the signature card, because I’d opened the account. No, if we ended in disaster, it wouldn’t be this forgery thing that tripped us.
It went off without a hitch. I arrived at the bank shortly after it opened, and inquired for Dakin. He was at one of the desks behind a railing at one end of the main lobby, a nervous, self-consciously hearty, and overworked man who couldn’t have described me ten minutes later if I’d been wearing a monocle and a sharpened bone through my nose.
“Oh, yes. Yes. Mr.—” His eyes swept toward the memo pad to verify his old friend’s name. “Mr. Fitzpatrick called. Glad to have you as a depositor, Mr. Chapman. And we know you’ll like Miami.”
I filled in the form, signed two copies of the signature card, endorsed the check, and gave it to him. He carried it off to one of the tellers’ windows and returned with my deposit receipt and a check-book. He assured me it wouldn’t take over three or four days for it to clear New Orleans. I went back to the hotel, wrote out a check for five thousand dollars, borrowed an envelope from the cashier, and left it at the desk to be delivered to anybody from Fitzpatrick Realty.
Up in the room again, I got out the list of securities, opened the Herald to yesterday’s closing stock prices, and made a rough outline of what to sell. It would just about clean out the account; there’d be less than twelve thousand dollars left in it. I put through the call to New Orleans.
“Hello, Chris? Chapman—”
“Oh, good morning, Mr. Chapman. I see Warwick opened at two and a half again this morning, so we may not—”
“Never mind that,” I cut in brusquely. “It’s chicken feed. I’m on my way now on that deal I told you about—oh, incidentally, the twenty-five thousand dollars was here when I checked in at the Clive last night. Thanks a million. I opened an account and deposited it this morning. The deal’s going through at my price, beyond any shadow of doubt, and I’m going to need a hundred and fifty thousand dollars within the next few days. You got my list handy, and a pencil?”
“Yes, sir. But you’re not going to—?”
I paid no attention. “Sell the Columbia Gas, the PG &E, that DuPont Preferential, Champion Paper Preferential, and the AT&T— That should be pretty close to a hundred thousand. Now, let’s see—”
“But, Mr. Chapman, those are all good, sound issues. I hate to see you sell them.”
“What?” I asked absently. Then I did a take, and barked into the phone. “Goddammit, Chris, I’m not interested in being on the defensive. There’s no way to stand still in this economy; you keep going ahead, or you’re eaten alive by ducks. Let’s face it. The bull market’s dead, and I’m not interested in making four cents in dividends and giving three of them to the Government. I want to make money, and right now Florida real estate’s the place to make it; not in the stock market. When the market starts to move again, I’ll get back in, but for now I’m going to put that money to work.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. He didn’t like it, but there was nothing he could do about it. We went on with the list.
“All right,” I concluded. “The largest block in there is a thousand shares. You can unload it all in an hour without even a ripple. Get the check off to me as early as you can this afternoon, registered airmail, care of the Clive Hotel, so I’ll have it by the time the banks open in the morning. It’s going to take several days to clear. Got it?”
“Yes. I have it all.”
“Fine,” I said. “G’bye.” I hung up, and breathed softly with relief.
That much of it was past now; the Chris phase was complete, and he’d never suspected a thing. It called for a drink, in spite of the hour. I was just pouring it when the phone rang. It was Fitzpatrick.
He was in high spirits. “Well, Mr. Chapman, it looks as if you’ve got yourself a deal. I talked to the owner a few minutes ago, and I think he’s about ready to accept.”
“Fine,” I said. “I’m raising the money now.”
A woman’s voice cut in on the line. “Mr. Chapman, I’m sorry to interrupt. This is the hotel switchboard—”
“Yes?” I asked.
“We have a very urgent long-distance call from Thomaston, Louisiana.”
“Oh.” I didn’t like the sound of that at all. “I mean—put it on.”
“Harris! Thank God they located you.” It was Coral Blaine. “I’ve been trying for over an hour, but I’d forgotten what hotel you said. This whole place is in an uproar—”
“What is it?” I broke in.
“We’ve got to have the combination of that old safe, and you’re the only one who knows it. Barbara says you’ve got it written down somewhere in your office, but we can’t find it.”
I could feel the whole thing caving away beneath us, but I had to try. “Get hold of yourself!” I snapped. “What old safe are you talking about? And what’s happened?”
“Harris! The one that was moved out of here about six months ago when you bought the new one. It was stored in the warehouse, remember? And just before you left you told Mr. Elkins to sell it to the junk yard—”
Someone knocked on the door.
“ . . . Well, yesterday afternoon he and some more men moved it outside on to the loading platform, but the junk man forgot to pick it up. It was unlocked. And this morning about eight-thirty, some first-graders on the way to school—”
I could feel myself growing sick. “Oh, Jesus, not that!”
“No,” she interrupted. “Not one of the children. A dog. Judy Weaver’s miniature poodle—”
My knees bent, and I sat down. “Well, don’t tell me the whole goddamned town—”
There was another knock on the door.
“Harris! will you please stop swearing! That silly girl is practically out of her mind. They’ve got her under a sedative now, but when she wakes up she’ll start all over again. The Humane Society is driving me crazy. Mrs. Weaver says they’re going to sue you. Everybody in town is simply furious, and people have been calling up here until I’m ready to scream. Some machine shop has drilled a hole in the safe so the stupid dog can breathe, but they can’t get him out. The radio news got hold of it, and now the New Orleans papers are calling up. Barbara says you’ve got the combination—”