He smiled. “Have you ever heard a banker discuss a client’s interests, Ethan?”
“No.”
“Well, ask sometime and see how far you get. And besides that custom, I’m your friend, Ethan.”
“I know. I guess I’m a little jumpy. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a break.”
“A break?”
“I’ll lay them out face up, Mr. Baker. Marullo’s in trouble.”
He moved close to me. “What kind of trouble.”
“I don’t know exactly, sir. I think it might be illegal entry.”
“How do you know?”
“He told me—not in so many words. You know how he is.”
I could almost see his mind leaping about, picking up pieces and fitting them together. “Go on,” he said. “That’s deportation.”
“I’m afraid so. He’s been good to me, Mr. Baker. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.”
“You owe yourself something, Ethan. What was his proposition?”
“It’s not merely a proposition. I had to put it together out of a lot of excited gobbledegook. But I gathered that if I had a quick five thousand in cash, I could own the store.”
“That sounds as if he’s going to run for it—but you don’t know that.”
“I don’t know anything really.”
“So there’s no chance of a collusion charge. He didn’t tell you anything specific.”
“No, sir.”
“Then how did you arrive at that figure?”
“Easy, sir. That’s all we’ve got.”
“But you might get it for less?”
“Maybe.”
His quick eye went over the store and valued it. “If you are right in your assumption you’re in a good bargaining position.”
“I’m not much good at that.”
“You know I don’t favor under-the-table deals. Maybe I could talk to him.”
“He’s out of town.”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know, sir. Remember, it’s only my impression he might drop in, and if I had cash, he might deal. He likes me, you know.”
“I know he does.”
“I’d hate to think I was taking advantage.”
“He can always get it from someone else. He could get ten thousand easy from—anybody.”
“Then maybe I’m overhopeful.”
“Now, don’t think small. You have to look after number one.”
“Number two. It’s Mary’s money.”
“So it is. Well, what did you have in mind?”
“Well, I thought you could maybe draw some papers up and leave the date and the amount blank. Then I thought I’d draw the money Friday.”
“Why Friday?”
“Well, again it’s only a guess, but he did say something about how everybody’s away over the holiday. I kind of figured he might show up then. Don’t you have his account?”
“No, by God. He drew it out just recently. Buying stocks, he said. I didn’t think anything of it because he’s done that before and always brought back more than he took out.” He looked full in the eyes of a high-colored Miss Rheingold[58] on the cold counter, but he didn’t respond to her laughing invitation. “You know you could take a terrible beating on this?”
“How do you mean?”
“For one thing, he could sell it to half a dozen different people and, for another, it might be neck-deep in mortgage. And no title search.”
“I could maybe find out in the county clerk’s office. I know how busy you are, Mr. Baker. I’m taking advantage of your friendship for my family. Besides, you’re the only friend I have who knows about such things.”
“I’ll call Tom Watson about the title deed. Damn it, Ethan, it’s a bad time. I want to take a little trip tomorrow night. If it’s true and he’s a crook, you could be taken. Taken to the cleaners.”
“Maybe I better give it up, then. But good God, Mr. Baker, I’m tired of being a grocery clerk.”
“I didn’t say give it up. I said you’re taking a chance.”
“Mary would be so happy if I owned the store. But I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t gamble with her money. I suppose what I should do is call up the federal men.”
“That would lose you any advantage you have.”
“How?”
“If he is deported he can sell his holdings through an agent and this store will bring a lot more than you can pay. You don’t know he’s going to jump. How could you tell them he is if you don’t know? You don’t even know he’s picked up.”
“That’s true.”
“As a matter of fact, you don’t know anything about him—really know. All you’ve told me is vague suspicions, isn’t that so?”
“Yes.”
“And you’d better forget those.”
“Wouldn’t it look bad—paying in cash with no record?”
“You could write on the check—oh, something like ‘For investment in grocery business with A. Marullo.’ That would be a record of your intention.”
“Suppose none of this works.”
“Then redeposit the money.”
“You think it’s worth the risk?”
“Well—everything’s a risk, Ethan. It’s a risk to carry that much money around.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
“I wish I didn’t have to be out of town.”
What I said about timing still held. In all that time nobody came into the store, but half a dozen came in now—three women, an old man, and two kids. Mr. Baker moved close and spoke softly. “I’ll make it in hundred-dollar bills and note the numbers. Then if they catch him you can get it back.” He nodded gravely to the three women, said, “Good morning, George,” to the old man, and roughed his fingers through the kids’ coarse hair. Mr. Baker is a very clever man.
Chapter fourteen
July first. It parts the year like the part in a head of hair. I had foreseen it as a boundary marker for me—yesterday one kind of me, tomorrow a different kind. I had made my moves that could not be recalled. Time and incidents had played along, had seemed to collaborate with me. I did not ever draw virtue down to hide what I was doing from myself. No one made me take the course I had chosen. Temporarily I traded a habit of conduct and attitude for comfort and dignity and a cushion of security. It would be too easy to agree that I did it for my family because I knew that in their comfort and security I would find my dignity. But my objective was limited and, once achieved, I could take back my habit of conduct. I knew I could. War did not make a killer of me, although for a time I killed men. Sending out patrols, knowing some of the men would die, aroused no joy in sacrifice in me as it did in some, and I could never joy in what I had done, nor excuse or condone it. The main thing was to know the limited objective for what it was, and, once it was achieved, to stop the process in its tracks. But that could only be if I knew what I was doing and did not fool myself—security and dignity, and then stop the process in its tracks. I knew from combat that casualties are the victims of a process, not of anger nor of hate or cruelty. And I believe that in the moment of acceptance, between winner and loser, between killer and killed, there is love.
But Danny’s scribbled papers hurt like a sorrow, and Marullo’s grateful eyes.
I had not lain awake as men are said to do on the eve of battle. Sleep came quickly, heavily, completely, and released me just as freely in the predawn, refreshed. I did not lie in the darkness as usual. My urge was to visit my life as it had been. I slipped quietly from bed, dressed in the bathroom, and went down the stairs, walking near to the wall. It did surprise me when I went to the cabinet, unlocked it, and recognized the rosy mound by touch. I put it in my pocket and closed and locked the cabinet. In my whole life I had never carried it away and I had not known I would do it this morning. Memory directed me through the dark kitchen and out the back door into the graying yard. The arching elms were fat with leaves, a true black cave. If I had then had Marullo’s Pontiac I would have driven out of New Baytown to the awakening world of my first memory. My finger traced the endless sinuous design on the flesh-warm talisman in my pocket—talisman?
58
high-colored Miss Rheingold: Rheingold beer, popular in New York, held the venerable Miss Rheingold contest each year starting in 1939, with beer drinkers voting for their favorite of several young women; in 1959 total votes for Miss Rheingold exceeded 22 million.