Business piled up that morning. It was worse than I had thought it might be. The sun turned hot and fierce and very little wind moved, the kind of weather that drives people on their vacations whether they want to go or not. I had a line of customers waiting to be served. One thing I knew, come hell or high water, I had to get some help. If Allen didn’t work out, I’d fire him and get someone else.
When Mr. Baker came in about eleven, he was in a hurry. I had to stand off some customers and go into the storeroom with him.
He put a big envelope and a small one in my hands, and he was so rushed that he barked a kind of shorthand. “Tom Watson says the deed’s okay. He doesn’t know whether it’s papered. He doesn’t think so. Here are conveyances. Get signatures where I’ve checked. The money’s marked and the numbers noted. Here’s a check all made out. Just sign it. Sorry I have to rush, Ethan. I hate doing business like this.”
“You really think I should go ahead?”
“Goddammit, Ethan, after all the trouble I’ve gone to—”
“Sorry, sir. Sorry. I know you’re right.” I put the check on a canned-milk carton and signed it with my indelible pencil.
Mr. Baker wasn’t too rushed to inspect the check. “Offer two thousand at first. And raise your offer two hundred at a time. You realize, of course, you’ve only got a five-hundred balance in the bank. God help you if you run short.”
“If it’s clear, can’t I borrow on the store?”
“Sure you can if you want interest to eat you up.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t go soft, Ethan. Don’t let him poor-mouth you. He can be a spellbinder. All dagos can. Just remember number one.”
“I am sure grateful.”
“Got to go,” he said. “Want to hit the highway before the noon traffic.” And out he went and nearly knocked Mrs. Willow down in the doorway where she had been over every cantaloupe twice.
The day didn’t get any less frantic. I guess the heat that splashed the streets made people edgy and downright quarrelsome. Instead of a holiday, you’d have thought they were stocking up for a catastrophe. I couldn’t have got a sandwich over to the Morph if I’d wanted to.
I not only had to wait on people, I had to keep my eyes open. A lot of the customers were summer people, strangers in town, and they steal if you don’t watch them. They can’t seem to help it. And it’s not always stuff they need either. The little jars of luxuries take the worst beating, foie gras and caviar and button mushrooms. That’s why Marullo had me keep such stuff back of the counter, where the customers aren’t supposed to go. He taught me it’s not good business to catch a shoplifter. Makes everyone restless, maybe because—well, in his thoughts anyway—everyone is guilty. About the only way is to charge the loss off to somebody else. But if I saw someone drifting too close to certain shelves, I could forestall the impulse by saying, “Those cocktail onions are a bargain.” I’ve seen the customer jump as though I’d read his mind. What I hate worst about it is the suspicion. It’s unpleasant to be suspicious. Makes me angry, as though one person were injuring many.
The day wore on to a kind of sadness, and time slowed down. After five Chief Stoney came in, lean and grim and ulcerish. He bought a TV dinner—country steak, carrots, mashed potatoes, cooked and frozen in a kind of aluminum tray.
I said, “You look like you had a touch of sun, Chief.”
“Well, I ain’t. I feel fine.” He looked miserable.
“Want two of those?”
“Just one. My wife’s gone visiting. A cop don’t get holidays.”
“Too bad.”
“Maybe it’s just as well. With this mob hanging around, I don’t get home much.”
“I heard you were away.”
“Who told you?”
“Willie.”
“He better learn to keep his big mouth shut.”
“He didn’t mean harm.”
“Hasn’t got brains enough to mean harm. Maybe not brains enough to stay out of jail.”
“Who has?” I said it on purpose and I got even more response than I had anticipated.
“Just what do you mean by that, Ethan?”
“I mean we’ve got so many laws you can’t breathe without breaking something.”
“That’s the truth. Gets so you don’t really know.”
“I was going to ask you, Chief—cleaning up, I found an old revolver, all dirty and rusty. Marullo says it’s not his, and it sure isn’t mine. What do I do with it?”
“Turn it over to me, if you don’t want to apply for a license.”
“I’ll bring it down from home tomorrow. I stuck it in a can of oil. What do you do with things like that, Stoney?”
“Oh, check to see if they’re hot and then throw them in the ocean.” He seemed to be feeling better, but it had been a long, hot day. I couldn’t let him be.
“Remember a couple of years ago there was a case somewhere upstate? Police were selling confiscated guns.”
Stoney smiled the sweet smile of an alligator and with the same gay innocence. “I had one hell of a week, Eth. One hell of a week. If you’re going about needling me, why, don’t do it, because I’ve had one hell of a week.”
“Sorry, Chief. Anything a sober citizen can do to help, like getting drunk with you?”
“I wish to Christ I could. I’d rather get drunk than anything I can think of.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Do you know? No, how could you? If I only knew what it’s for and where it’s from.”
“What you talking about?”
“Forget it, Eth. No—don’t forget it. You’re a friend of Mr. Baker. Has he got any deals on?”
“I’m not that good a friend, Chief.”
“How about Marullo? Where is Marullo?”
“Went in to New York. He wants to get his arthritis checked over.”
“God almighty. I don’t know. I just don’t know. If there was just a line, why, I’d know where to jump.”
“You’re not talking sense, Stoney.”
“No, I’m not. I talked too much already.”
“I’m not too bright but if you want to unload—”
“I don’t. No, I don’t. They’re not going to pin a leak on me even if I knew who they were. Forget it, Eth. I’m just a worried man.”
“You couldn’t leak to me, Stoney. What was it—grand jury?”
“Then you do know?”
“A little.”
“What’s behind it?”
“Progress.”
Stoney came close to me and his iron hand grasped my upper arm so tightly that it hurt. “Ethan,” he said fiercely, “do you think I’m a good cop?”
“The best.”
“I aim to be. I want to be. Eth—do you think it’s right to make a man tell on his friends to save himself?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Neither do I. I can’t admire such a government. What scares me, Eth, is—I won’t be such a good cop any more because I won’t admire what I’m doing.”
“Did they catch you out, Chief?”
“It’s like you said. So many laws you can’t take a deep breath without you break one. But Jesus Christ! The guys were my friends. You won’t leak, Ethan?”