THERE was no sign of Myra when I got to Manetta’s, so I went into the bar.
“I’ll have a mint-julep,” I said to the barman. “And listen, I belong to the crushing school. Don’t just soak the mint leaves, crush ’em. Do you get it?”
“We always crush them here, sir,” the barrnan said, smiling, “and we wipe the rim of the glass with mint as well.”
“That’s fine,” I said, “I don’t have to tell you anything, but there are guys who soak their mint.”
“They’re just ignorant, sir,” he returned and went to the end of the bar to fix my drink. I lit a cigarette and thought about Peppi. I just couldn’t make out why he had offered me a job. Knowing Peppi I guessed there was something behind. It all and I wouldn’t mind laying a bet that he knew Kelly and that Kelly had been to see him.
While l was thinking, a girl came in. A girl in a flame coloured silk dress that reached an inch below her knees. Across her shoulders she wore a white silk scarf-handkerchief with large red spots and her cute little hat of red and white felt was perched on the side of her head in a saucy tilt.
It was Myra.
And yet, somehow, I didn’t recognize her for a moment. There was something in the way she moved and an unfamiliar expression in her eyes that made her almost a stranger to me.
As soon as she saw me she waved, smiled and came over.
“There you are,” she said. “Have I kept you waiting?”
“I—I didn’t recognize you,” I said, “maybe it’s the new dress.”
She gave me a sharp glance, “Do you like it?” she asked, smiling again. “Especially for you.”
“I think it’s swell,” I said, wondering what was different about her. “Let’s sit down. I’ve had a strenuous hour.”
She went over to one of the tables and sat down. I followed her. “Well,” I said when we were settled with our drinks, “it’s nice to rest my eyes on a beautiful woman.” I looked at her knees with interest, “You’ve got pretty elbows,” I went on, “I don’t seem to have noticed them before.”
She laughed. “You’ve developed an. awful squint since we last met.”
“Yeah,” I said, watching her closely. “You got rid of Whisky then?”
“I got rid of him,” there was a little note of grimness in her voice that made me stare still more intently. She smiled, but her eyes weren’t amused. “Did you have an interesting morning?”
“I certainly did,” I said and I told her about Peppi. She sat quietly listening and when I was through she said, “What are you going to do?”
“You mean about the job? Why, I guess nothing. I wouldn’t want to work for Peppi.”
“But, isn’t it a good job?” she asked, surprised.
“I don’t know. The money’s all right. But Peppi’s a bad guy to work with. He won’t last.”
“But you’re not working with Peppi,” she pointed out. “You’d be working with this Andasca, wouldn’t you?”
“It’s the same thing. Andasca would be Peppi’s stooge.”
“You ought to think about it,” she went on, “what will you do otherwise?”
I finished my drink, “I’ll think about it but let’s eat now,” I said, getting up.
We went into the restaurant.
After the waiters had fussed around, and we had chosen our meal, I said, “Seriously, don’t you think we ought to find your father first?”
She lifted her shoulders, “Oh, I’ve been thinking about that. You know, I don’t care very much one way or the other.”
I looked at her, “You don’t, huh?”
“No.”
“What about this girl who’s impersonating you?”
Again she shrugged. “She can’t hurt me, can she? If my father wants a cheap victory, I’m big enough to let him have it. But, don’t let’s talk about that. Let’s talk about you. Don’t you think you ought to look around for a job?”
“So you’re considering me now, are you?” I said. “That’s new, coming from you.”
She looked up and I caught a look in her eyes that set my blood jumping in my veins.
“Why shouldn’t I think about you and your future?” she asked, putting her hand on mine.
“You wouldn’t suddenly have taken into your head that you could like me a little?” I said, squeezing her hand.
“I might,” she said, “I might like you quite a lot. But, you’d have to have a steady job.”
“So what?” I said, “I can get a steady job. A guy with my experience…”
“Why not see Andasca and find out if you could work with him?” she suggested, a little too anxiously.
“Aren’t you giving this guy an awful build up?” I asked suspiciously, “I believe you want me to work for him.”
“I want you to get fixed up in a good job.”
“Well, it seems to me you’re pushing Andasca on me,” I returned. “I’ve already told you what I think of Peppi and his set-up. I can get a job, but it won’t be with Andasca.”
“You’re being pig-headed.” There was a note of anger in her voice. “Where else do you think you can earn two fifty a week?”
“That’s not such a lot of dough,” I returned. “Just shooting in articles would get me double that.”
She bit her lip and looked away. “Well, if that’s how you feel about it,” she said and jerked her hand from under mine.
It struck me that the lunch wasn’t going to be a success and I wanted to get her somewhere where we could have this out. There was something at the back of her mind she hadn’t told me and I wanted to know what it was.
We finished lunch almost in silence. When we did speak it was about the people in the room and stuff like that and all through the meal she didn’t once look me in the eye. By the time I got the check and followed her out of the restaurant I was feeling a little low. We stood waiting for a taxi in silence, then when one drew up, I said, “Well, what do we do? Shall we go back and take Whisky for a walk? Or shall we sit in the park or what?”
“The park,” she said.
I hadn’t been in Central Park for two years. It was nice to get back there. It was just like it always was. I guess in another fifty years it’ll be the same as it is to-day. Mothers and nurse-maids, minding children on roller skates, wagons, scooters and bikes, will be reading and gossiping in the sun long after I’ve been put under ground. Row-boats were lying on the lake as thick as water bugs and they’ll be there too. Your born and bred New Yorker with a modest income doesn’t miss the country much. He’s got Central Park with thirty tennis courts, nineteen ball fields, six hockey fields and four-and-a-half miles of bridle paths to take his girl along in the evening. That’s enough for him and it’s enough for me.
We sat on a seat in the shade and watched the people mill around. It was nice just to sit there, but at the back of my mind I had plenty to think about. When I tried to take her band, she shifted away from me.
“Don’t make an exhibition,” she said sharply.
“Who cares?” I asked, surprised. “Let’s talk about ourselves, Myra.”
“Of course,” she said, “what about ourselves?”
“Do we get married?” I said, not knowing whether that was what I wanted or not, but anxious to see how she would react.
“I don’t think so,” she said, staring across the lake at the distant couples walking close together on the other side. “Why get married? Anyway, I wouldn’t marry a man who hasn’t got a position, Why should I? I’ve been getting on all right on my own.”
“People don’t get married for position or money,” I said gently. “They get married because they love each other.”
“Who told you that?” she glanced at me quickly and laughed. “That sounds like ‘What Every Girl Should Know.’ That love stuff went out with the Civil War.”
“There are times,” I said crossly, “when I’d like to throw you into a lake. Can’t we be serious once in a while?”
“Not until you get a job. Then I might.”
“Okay, if I get a job, you’ll think about it?”
“If the job’s good enough.”
“You know, Angel skin, I’m getting a little tired of your mercenary outlook.”
She pouted. “Will you go see Andasca?” she said, “just to please me?”
“What about you?” I said, hoping to side-track. “What am I to tell Doc and Sam? Don’t you want to find your father or Kelly or the girl who looks like you?”
“Ross,” she said, gripping my hand tightly “so long as we have each other nothing matters. I just want you and I to be together always. Can’t we forget about the other two?”
“Well, we could drop them,” I said slowly, “but we’d have to tell them.”
“Then let’s tell them,” she said eagerly. “Let’s tell them now.”
“Okay,” I said, “I don’t mind” and I glanced at my watch. It was just after three o’clock.
“They should be in, unless Sam’s gone down to the poolroom.”
As we walked towards the long flight of stone steps that led out of the park, she said, “Will you see Andasca?”
“Yeah,” I said, “I’ll see him sometime this evening.”
“Promise?” she said, pressing my arm against her side.
“Promise,” I said. “If it means all that to you.”
As we entered the apartment, Sam came out of the kitchen with a worried look on his face.
“There you are,” he said, relieved. “Is Whisky with you?”
“Why, no,” I said, “Myra didn’t take him.”
Sam looked distressed, “Hell!” he said. “Then he’s lost. He went out soon after you’d gone,” he went on to Myra. “He ain’t been back. I’ve looked up and down the street, but there’s no sign of him. I thought maybe he followed you and you’d taken him for a walk.”
Myra shook her head, “I haven’t seen him,” she said.
“Oh, he’ll turn up,” I said, tossing my hat on the chair, “you know Whisky. He’s found a lady friend and is getting acquainted.”
Doc Ansell came in just then. “Found Whisky?” he asked anxiously.
“Don’t get excited,” I said. “He’ll turn up. He’s just finding his feet. A big dog like that wants some exercise and he’s having a look around.”
Ansell looked at Myra, “Well,” he said, smiling, “how pretty you look this morning. Did you have a nice lunch?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said, pulling off her hat. “It was very nice.”
Sam said, “Aint you worried about Whisky?”
She blinked, “Why, no. If Ross thinks…”
“Ross?” Sam’s eyes opened, “Gee! Have you two gone soft on each other?”
Myra turned on me. “You’d better tell them,” she said and ran out of the room. Ansell and Sam looked at me suspiciously. “What’s buzzin’?” Sam demanded.
I wandered over to an armchair and sat down. “I don’t know,” I returned. “A lot’s happened since I last saw you,” and I told them about Peppi and Andasca and Lydia Brandt.
They sat listening in silence, then Doc said, “I’ve heard of Andasca. He’s no good to anyone.”
“So have I,” Sam said, “he used to carry a gun for Jo-jo in Chi when I was there. You don’t want to get mixed up with him.”
I jerked my thumb at the ceiling. “That’s what she wants,” I said, slowly. “She wants me to drop you two and live with her. She says nothing else matters so long as we have each other and I work for Andasca. What do you make of that?”
They didn’t make anything of it.
“She doesn’t want to be bothered with her father. She doesn’t mind being impersonated. Almost as if she was someone else,” I went on, looking hard at Ansell.
“Yes,” he said, “I see what you mean. Now, I wonder…”
“It wants looking into,” I said, closing my eyes. “Maybe I’d better see Andasca.”
“I think so,” Doc said. “Take Sam with you.”
“Where’ll I find him?” I said. “Either of you know?”
“Last time I heard of him,” Sam said, “he lived in a joint off Mulberry Park. Maybe someone knows what he’s doing now.”
“We’ll go to Mulberry Park,” I said. “In the meantime keep an eye on the girl friend. Don’t let her leave the apartment. I may be wrong, Doc, but I’m suspicious of her change of heart.”
“Leave ft to me,” Doc said, and we went out into the street, leaving him on his own.
Now, Mulberry Park lies north of the Brooklyn Bridge and a hundred yards or so from Chinatown. Right now it is a tree-shaded square which the city has equipped with swings, wading pools and showers for the kiddies. It looks quiet and faded but a century ago it was the toughest spot in Manhattan; Five Points was situated there and nearby a huge rambling building called the Old Brewery where swarms of Negroes and whites used to live. Seventy-five men, women and children once lived in one room of the Old Brewery. That ought to tell you how tough the place was. Murder was a daily occurrence and the kids in Old Brewery lived for years without leaving the rooms because in the hails they might get themselves knocked off by some guy with the blood-itch. The young punks were strong enough to stand up for themselves met their pals in alleys and there formed the first gangs of New York.
For the next hundred years the stretch from Mulberry Bend through Chatham Square and up the Bowery remained the centre of the sin industries of the metropolis. The gangs flourished.
So in those days the Mulberry Park district was plenty tough. Now the old gangs were dead, Chinatown and Mulberry Bend had faded into seeming innocence, but the district was still the breeding ground for thugs.
Anyway, it was like a breath of home to Sam as we into the Square and picked our way through the kids that cluttered up the sidewalk.
“Where do we go from here?” I asked, feeling the eyes of the slatternly women hostile on my back as they stood in open doorways of their drab, dirty apartments.
“There’s a guy I used to know,” Sam said, head, “who had a gin mill around here some place. what was his name?” He screwed up his face while he thought.
I waited patiently, trying to pretend I wasn’t there. Even the kids had stopped playing and were watching us.
“Good-time Waxey,” Sam said suddenly. “That’s the runt. He’ll know about Andasca. He knew every punk around here.”
We found Good-time Waxey behind the bar of an evil looking dive at the corner of Mulberry and Kenmare. He was lolling over the bar, the mid-day sporting sheet spread out before him, looking down the list of horses for the three o’clock handicap.
He looked up suspiciously as we fumbled our way into the dark little tavern.
“Hey, Waxey,” Sam said, grinning, “still carrying your corns in a snood?”
Waxey stiffened. His fat, brutish face, glistening with sweat, lit up and he shoved out a fist the size of a mellon. “Bogle!” he said, shaking hands, “where ta hell yuh spring from?”
Sam grinned as he pumped the big man’s arm up and down. “Thought I’d look the old dump over,” he said. “How’s tricks, Waxey?”
Waxey lost his smile, “Looka,” he said, “six years I work in dis burg, an’ where does it get me? A lousy handout a thoity bucks a month! Starvin’ an’ freezin’… fuh what? Peanuts!” and he spat disgustedly on the floor.
“Gees!” Sam said, his eyes opening. “I thought this burg was all right.”
“It was,” Waxey returned darkly, “when da boys were around. Lucky… remember Lucky?
. . When he was around, dat was somethin’. But, now… Hell, might as well wait for Santa Claus tuh take care of me.”
“Meet my pal Millan,” Sam said, pushing me forward. “He’s an all right guy, Waxey. We work together.”
Waxey looked at me sharply, then stuck out his hand. “Any pal a Sam’s pal a mine,” he said, crushing my hand in a grip that made me shuffle my feet.
“We looked in ‘cause we thought you might wise us up,” Sam said, lowering his voice. Waxey stroked his shapeless nose and his little green eyes showed interest. “Yuh in a racket, Sam?” he asked, hopefully.
“Not tight now,” Sam returned cautiously. “But, it looks like it was headin’ that way. What do you know about Andasca?”
Waxey blinked. “What yew mean?”
“Just that. This guy’s going to work for him,” Sam said, jerking his thumb in my direction.
“But he wants to know what line he’s in first.”
Waxey studied me. “Lu’s gettin’ somewhere,” he said at last. “Twenty buck shoits. A hundred an’ fifty buck custom tailored suits. Da fat a da land he live off of. An’ he’s got a flock a dames at’d make youse guys water at da mout’.”
“But what’s the set-up?” Sam persisted.
Waxey lowered his voice, “Peppi Kruger’s behind him,” he said “Between da two a dem, dey have da Bowery sewed up tight, see?”
“How tight?” Sam asked, looking hopefully at the row of dusty bottles behind Waxey’s head, “and how about a drink, Waxey?”
“Sure.” Waxey produced a black bottle without a label from under the counter. “Dis is da McCoy,” he went on, slapping the bottle down in front of us. “Help yuhselves.”
While Sam poured the drinks, I said, “I heard Kruger’s almost washed up, that’s why I’m nervous about going in with them.”
“Hoid what?” Waxey gasped, “yuh crazy? Looks yew, both dese guys are tops, see? Nuttin’s goin’ tuh stop ’em. Dere ain’t any punk tuh touch ’em now.”
But I wasn’t listening any snore. I was staring out of the tavern into the street. “Hang on, Sam,” I said suddenly, “I’ll be right back,” and I left them gaping after me.
From across the street I had caught a glimpse of a dog, moving along the shadows of the wall. That in itself wasn’t anything, but the dog was a wolfhound and you don’t see many wolfhounds in Mulberry Park.
I was certain it was Whisky.
By the time I got into the open he had disappeared, but I knew which way he had gone and I chased across the street, ducked down an evil smelling alley and ran on. Something on the ground made me pause and looking down I found that I was following a trail of bright bloodstains in a disjointed string of small circles.
I increased my pace and began calling. At the end of the alley I could see Whisky dragging himself forward painfully and slowly.
“Whisky!” I shouted and ran forward, just as the dog dropped wearily to the ground.
“What’s the matter, old dog?” I asked, bending over him anxiously.
There was no need to ask. There was a great patch of hardening blood on his shoulder. Across his head was a livid gash as if he had been hit very hard with a stick. Blood ran from his foot where he must have got himself a pretty severe cut. Whisky was in a bad way and from the exhausted look in his eyes I could see he was in need of some quick attention.
“Take it easy,” I said, kneeling beside him, “I’ll get you out of here.”
“Don’t waste time with me,” Whisky growled. “They’ve got her. They kidnapped her when she was going to meet you. That wasn’t Myra who was waiting for you at Manetta’s… that was the other one.”
“The other one?” I repeated stupidly. “Who kidnapped who? What are you talking about, Whisky boy?”
Whisky struggled to speak, then, a look of terrified dismay came into his eyes. His teeth clicked and he half struggled to his feet, only to flop back exhausted.
“Take it easy,” I said, “I’ll get Sam and we’ll fix you up, you poor old devil. But, I’ve got to know what you’re talking about. Why should anyone want to kidnap Myra?”
Whisky still clicked his teeth as if he were struggling to speak and then to my shocked and horrified surprise he began to bark.