Robert Henry
The Fixed Smile of Death
None of the guys figured Orvie had any guts. They had told him that so many times that Orvie was more than half-convinced. They never gave him a real chance to find out what was going on with the boys, because everybody, including Orvie, knew that he’d spill under a little pressure. So, it was with a sense of sudden importance, that Orvie sat in one of the back booths of Farmer Ed’s Grill opposite Big Sanderson. The big boy had come in and chased away the two guys with whom Orvie had been drinking beer. Orvie sat breathless under the scrutiny of Big Sanderson’s small pale eyes, trying to look casual and hard.
“I been watching you for a long time, Orvie,” he said, and his lowered tone gave the whole thing an air of conspiracy and confidence.
“Yeah?” Orvie answered, in that new fiat tone he had suddenly discovered. He wondered how the Big Sand had been watching him. The only stuff he had pulled was peddling reefers at the joints around the high schools. It had kept him in clothes and beet, and lots of times be had felt like a big shot when he would walk into a grill full of those high school punks, but that wasn’t the sort of thing the Big Sand would care about. Orvie was puzzled.
“Sure. And you been handling yourself okay. You keep your mouth shut and you haven’t capered your way into the can once. I got a deal that is almost a solo job, but I need a guy like you for a driver. You in?”
Orvie felt a mixture of pride and alarm He glanced at the big knotted fists of the Big Sand and then up into the little cold eyes. He gulped and said, “Okay with me. When?” Rig Sanderson leaned further over the table and began to talk in a lower tone.
At almost the precise moment he began to outline the job. Honey, in a cocktail lounge down the street, leaned her bright yellow head over a small table and in her Georgia swamp accent murmured to Johnny Micco, “So I figure the big boy has got something so hot that he lets none of you fellows in on it. You know, Johnny, I always liked you but we couldn’t do anything on account of the big boy would bust us both in half.”
“Sure, Honey. Sure,” Johnny said, nodding his patent leather head, “but what kind of a job is it? What did he say?”
“He didn’t tell me nothing, except he’s been getting rid of his stuff, and last night he looks at himself in the mirror in the bathroom and he says. ‘Sanderson, you are one smart guy. You sure are.’ ” Her contempt for the Big Sand showed in the way she lifted one side of her thick upper lip away from her sharp little teeth.
“I don’t know, Honey. That’s not much to go on. Shut up, here comes Barney.” They leaned away from each other with elaborate unconcern, and a square little man with a sullen face walked up and dropped into one of the empty chairs.
“What’s on your mind, Barney?” Johnny asked.
“Geez, I don’t know, Johnny. Just seems kind a funny. I walk into Farmer Ed’s place and there is the Big Sand in one of the booths with that Orvie kid. They’re talking quiet, and Orvie looks like somebody just made him senator from Michigan. I don’t like it. That punk’s no good. Sanderson knows that.”
Honey flashed a look at Johnny, and said, “Isn’t Orvie that little big shot with no chin and the big eyes? Always looking scared and hanging around the edges?”
“Yeah. He peddles stuff for old Joe. He’s a no-good kid.”
Johnny looked at Barney for a long time, as though trying to read his thoughts. Then be looked inquiringly at Honey. She gave a small nod of agreement, and Johnny leaned forward over the table and began to talk in a quick low voice. At first Barney looked shocked, but then he joined in and for a long time the three of them guessed and planned...
Orvie figured that the Big Sand must have dropped a word to the boys. That would be the only reason why Johnny and Barney and even Honey had gathered around and started to treat him like a man instead of the way they did once. They had come in right after the big fellow had left He sipped his drink and returned Honey’s insinuating smile with a leer that was half embarrassment. He was one of the boys. Johnny had his arm around his shoulder and Barney kept telling long jokes. He ordered another round of drinks...
Orvie teetered along the hall to his room. He locked the door behind him, sat on the bed and, with reverence, fished the cold bulk of the automatic out of his coat pocket. The automatic that the Big Sand had slid under the table. The low light bulb gleamed on the metal. Orvie felt proud and happy and watched the room spin gently around him for a time, before he lay back on the pillow and dropped off to sleep.
Orvie wakened with the gleam of late morning sun hurting his eyes. He felt sick. His head was big and thumped painfully. There was a hard lump pressing into his thigh. He fumbled for it and found that he was sleeping with his clothes on. When his hand closed on the automatic he gave a sudden start, and remembered the incredible developments of the previous day. He was going to be right-hand boy for the Big Sand. He forgot his head and sat up, realizing that this was the big day. Tonight would be the big night. A punk no longer! Orvie the big boy!
He stood up and noticed that his clothes were in sad shape. He stood by the bureau and began to slowly empty his pockets. In the side pocket of his topcoat he found a small piece of folded paper. He opened it and read his name at the top. A note! It said, “The big boy is playing you for a sucker. He wants to pull something big, and it looks like afterward he will knock you off so there is no witnesses. Then he figures to go away and never come back here. Don’t be a chump. Watch him close. — Your Friend.” That was all. It was scrawled in pencil.
Orvie looked at his own white face in the mirror and realized that the note made sense. That was why the Big Sand had picked him out. Orvie the punk. Drive the car and then get rubbed out. He undressed and then sat on the edge of the bed, trying to remember who he had been with who could have planted the note in his pocket. Most of the evening was a blur. He remembered Johnny Micco, Barney, Honey, the big boy’s dish, and others. Then he remembered how Johnny kept his arm on his shoulder. That Johnny Micco was smart. He could have cased it and left him the note. But why? Why warn Orvie, the punk? He must be sore at the Big Sand. Orvie sat in a cold sweat of fear. He decided that he better leave town in a hurry, and never see the big boy again. Then he shuddered as he remembered what had happened last year to Bucky. They said Bucky had tried to run out on Sanderson. Shot through the gut and dying by inches in an alley. Sanderson would have somebody watching him. He wouldn’t have a chance to sneak out. Better to go through with it and try to knock off the big boy the first chance he had. The thought of shooting at Sanderson started his whole body quivering. He felt desperate and trapped.
As he thought he fingered the automatic. He pushed the clip release and caught the clip in his hand. He tried to count the shells in it through the little holes in the side. He couldn’t. So he started sliding them out of the top of the clip. Seven. He started to jam them back in, but when he got to the last one, he found he didn’t have the strength in his fingers to push the last one down into the clip. He slid the slide back cautiously with the idea of putting the extra one in the chamber, but one was already there. He gave up and shoved the clip back in and laid the gun and the extra shell on his bed while he washed and dressed.
Suddenly he thought of Johnny. If Johnny had been the one who planted the note, then maybe he could give Orvie some advice. He finished dressing, slid the gun and the extra shell in the side pocket of his topcoat, and headed for Johnny’s apartment. He slowed abruptly when he rounded the comer. There were prowl cars, an ambulance and a big crowd of people in front of Johnny’s apartment. He didn’t want to risk the attention of the police as long as he had the gun in his pocket. Yet he felt he had to find out what had happened. He drifted up into the edge of the crowd, nudged a bystander and said, “What goes on?”