And when it’s going bad, you might expect the people who are causing you trouble to let up for a while, mightn’t you? When two stalwart and intelligent detectives were struggling with two separate nuts which seemed uncrackable and which caused both men a considerable loss of sleep, when these two intrepid protectors of the innocent, these indefatigable investigators, these supporters of law and order, when these two darned nice fellows were trying their utmost to get out from under two miserable cases, wouldn’t it have been decent and only cricket to leave them alone, to allow them a respite from their torments? Friends, wouldn’t it have been the decent thing to do? Cop lovers of the world, wouldn’t it have been the only nice way, the only good way, the only fair way?
Sure.
On April 15, which was a balmy spring day blowing fresh breezes off the River Harb to the north, the harassment began anew.
It began with a difference, however.
It seemed to be concentrated against Dave Raskin, as if all armies had suddenly massed on poor Raskin’s frontiers and were pressing forward with their spring invasion. If you looked at this sudden offensive one way, you could assume the enemy was doing his best to plague Raskin and the cops. But if you looked at it another way, you could think of the concentrated attack as a guide, a signpost, a singling-out of the one store among twenty-five, a divine hand pointing, a divine voice saying, “Look and ye shall see; knock and it shall be opened unto ye.”
Meyer Meyer looked, but he didn’t see at first. Later on, when he knocked, it was truly opened unto him. And he didn’t for a moment suspect that this was what was desired of him, that the sudden spring offensive against Dave Raskin’s loft was designed to alert a police department which, with all due respect to those stalwarts, seemed to be somewhat asleep. You can play percentages only if your opponents are playing some sort of percentages themselves. Whatever the deaf man’s plan, it wouldn’t work if the cops didn’t at leastsuspect what he was up to. And so the tanks rolled into high gear, churning through the spring mud, and the dive bombers warmed up on the airfields and took off into the chill early morning air and from across the city, the big guns began thundering against poor Dave Raskin’s loft.
At ten o’clock on the morning of April 15, four hundred and thirty folding chairs were delivered to Raskin.
They were piled on the floor, and against the wall, and on the tables, and in the hallway, and down the steps, and some of them even overflowed onto the sidewalk. David Raskin insisted that he had not ordered any folding chairs, but the truck driver was a persistent man who told Raskin he always delivered what he was supposed to deliver and if Raskin had a beef he could call the chair company and discuss it with them. David Raskin called both the chair company and the 87th Squad, and then he paced the floor of his loft waiting for the chair people to come pick up the chairs again and waiting for Meyer Meyer to do something. There was, naturally, nothing Meyer Meyer could do except call the chair company who confirmed the fact that David Raskin had ordered the chairs sometime last week for delivery that day which, again naturally, David Raskin had not done.
So Meyer Meyer ran his hand over his bald head and cursed in pig Latin, a trick he had learned as a boy because his mother had not allowed swearing in her house. And David Raskin paced the floor of his loft and cursed in very loud English which, fortunately, his Puerto Rican girls did not understand too well.
At twelve-thirty on the nose, the caterers arrived.
The caterers arrived and with them they brought enough food to feed the entire Russian Army together with a few Yugoslavian partisans, or so it seemed. Actually they brought only enough food to feed the four hundred and thirty lunch guests who were to occupy the four hundred and thirty folding chairs. They brought little bottles containing Martinis and Manhattans, and they brought celery and olives and carrot sticks, and they brought onion soup, and they brought roast beef and turkey and candied sweet potatoes and asparagus tips au gratin and coffee, tea or milk, and orange sherbet and chocolate layer cake and little mints and—man, David Raskin positively flipped! The caterers insisted that he had called them and ordered this veritable feast and Raskin told them he didn’t know four hundred and thirty people in the entire world, let alone four hundred and thirty people he would care to invite for lunch, and the caterers said he had ordered the stuff, they had prepared all the food, what the hell were they supposed to do with it all, this wasn’t folding chairs which you could return, this was food, food, FOOD, especially cooked and prepared for the occasion, who was going to pay the bill?
“The man who ordered thismegillah!” Raskin shouted.
“Youordered it!” the caterers shouted back.
“I ordered nothing! Get it out of here! Get it out! Out! Out! Out!”
And that was when the orchestra arrived.
There were fourteen musicians in the orchestra, and they were all carrying their instruments, instruments like trombones and saxophones, and a bass drum, and a bass fiddle, and trumpets, and even a French horn or two. And they were also carrying music stands and they wanted to know where they should set up, and Raskin told the leader—a small man with a Hitler mustache and a personality to match—that he could go set up in the River Dix, just get the hell out of his loft, he did not order any damned orchestra! To which the man with the Hitler mustache said, “You came down to the union personally and left a twenty-dollar deposit when you hired the band!”
“Me!”Raskin shouted. “Icame down to thefirshtunkenuh union? I don’t even know where your dirty unionis, I came down? Get out of here with those drums!” and that was when the men returned to pick up the chairs, and the way Raskin finally got everybody out of the place was by calling Meyer again, who rushed over and tried to settle things as best he could.
That was on the fifteenth, and a jolly Wednesday that was, by George.
On Monday the twentieth, only four items arrived, and they were obviously a mistake.
The four items were:
2 PICKS
2 SHOVELS
David Raskin mopped his feverish brow.
“I didn’t order these,” he said.
The delivery boy shrugged and consulted the order slip. “Two picks and two shovels. Says so right here.”
Patiently, Raskin said, “I didn’t order them. You see, there’s a crazy man who—”
“Two picks and two shovels,” the delivery boy said firmly. “Deliver to the loft at twelve thirteen Culver Avenue. See? Says so right here. Can you read that, mister?”
“I can read it, but I didn’t order—”
“Deliver to the loft at twelve thirteen Culver Avenue after Darask Frocks, Inc. has vacated the premises. Oh.” The delivery boy’s voice dropped as he continued reading. “Call Frederick 7-3548 before delivery. Oh.”
“I got news for you,” Raskin said. “That’s my phone number, but I ain’t never vacating these premises. So forget this delivery.”
“They’ve already been paid for,” the delivery boy said.
And suddenly, David Raskin felt extremely shrewd. Suddenly, David Raskin was confronted with the single clue which would split this mystery wide open, suddenly David Raskin was presented with that opportunity which comes to all men but once in a lifetime, the chance to solve something, the chance to be a hero.