Funny Boys (29 page)

“Oh, another,” Morgan said.

“They get fed up with people.”

“That is droll,” Morgan said.

Mutzie came into the room, running a comb through her hair. He noted that her skin was red in spots from his ardent kisses. Morgan got up and pointed to the chair.

“Please,” he said. Mutzie sat down. Morgan paced the room with an air of self-importance. Mickey leaned against the wall.

“I told the governor I would be as precise … as articulate as
possible. He wants you to have a complete understanding of his position.”

“Good opener,” Mickey said bitterly. “Better keep your legs crossed, Mutzie. Notice I’m standing with my ass to the wall.”

“Above all, you mustn’t misunderstand what I’m about to say. The governor is prepared to take certain steps. …” Morgan hesitated, bit his lip, looked out the window for a moment as if looking for an escape hatch, then continued. “The point is that this is an election year. Any precipitous action on his part could be misinterpreted.”

“We’re talking here of killers, gangsters, corruption in New York State,” Mickey blurted.

“Exactly,” Morgan said.

“We’re both witnesses. We can put these killers in the chair.”

“And you will, believe me. You will. It’s just that the timing is all wrong at the moment. There are political considerations. But once the governor is reelected all the stops will be out. He will build his campaign on the theme of fighting crime and corruption in the state.”

“Not now?” Mickey asked. “Like tomorrow?”

“After he is reelected.”

“And in the meantime?” Mickey asked. He was appalled. The governor had seemed so sincere, so righteous and protective.

“Let me finish,” Morgan said. “It will all fit together.”

“Like the book Darwin wrote.”

Morgan looked exasperated.

“The Origin of Feces.”

“That’s not very funny,” Morgan said.

“Neither is your joke,” Mickey said, adding. “The one I suspect is coming.”

“You are not listening,” Morgan said.

“What I’m hearing are dirty words. You and the governor should wash out your mouths with soap.”

“Maybe with lye,” Mutzie said.

“It’s simply not the time to throw a grenade into state politics. We can’t admit the extent of the corruption you allege. People will think it began in Governor Lehman’s administration, that he is responsible. Don’t you see that?”

“I was talking about murder. We saw a murder happen. We can put those men away.”

Morgan reddened, obviously verging on anger, his sense of detachment quickly dissipating.

“We all agree on that point. But we have to consider the political realities.”

“Like what?”

“Those gangsters are Jewish. They’ll think he is starting a vendetta against them.”

Morgan sighed.

“This is so complicated. Mr. Lehman is a German Jew. His people came to America in the middle of the last century. Those from Eastern Europe came later. They are mostly uneducated, lower class. They think the German Jews look down upon them. It’s, well, it’s a class thing. They’re considered mockies.”

“Kikes. Sheenies,” Mickey said.

“To those types of Jews these gangsters are considered heroes. It will look like he’s coming down too hard on them.” He paused. “Do you understand?”

“And he thinks they won’t give him their votes,” Mickey said. “That is ridiculous.”

“No, Fine. Politics. Even if I explained it, you might not truly comprehend. Ever hear of Tammany Hall? They used to run things in the state and New York City and they work hand in hand
with gangsters. Now the reformers have arrived. La Guardia is Mayor. Dewey, who has been appointed to root out corruption, will most likely be elected district attorney. Their days are numbered. The election will be over in a few months. Then he will go after them with a vengeance. I promise you …”

“Listen to him,” Mickey shouted.

“I don’t understand any of this,” Mutzie said.

“I’m also Jewish,” Morgan said with an air of pride.

“Morgan?”

“Morganstern,” he said, pointing a bony finger at Mickey. “You think it’s easy to elect a Jewish governor? More than three-quarters of the state is non-Jewish. And we need every Jewish vote.”

“You just lost mine,” Mickey said.

“I’m giving you reality, Mr. Wiseguy. We are dealing here with people who have corrupted the whole process of government. They have burrowed in. The governor is an honest man and he knows how deep these people have penetrated. They are organized. Once the Governor is reelected, he’ll blow the lid off these kike gangsters and their wop cohorts. I promise you—”

“Kike gangsters?” Mickey snickered. “From a putz named Morganstern yet.”

“You people are as corrupt as they are,” Mutzie said. She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m ashamed of you, Morganstern.”

“You remind me of the guy who returns to the old country to visit his Mama …”

“I have to listen to this?” Morgan said. He began to pace the room nervously.

“Mama asks, ‘Where’s your beard?’ Guy says, ‘In America nobody wears a beard.’ Mama asks, ‘You still observe the Sabbath?’ Guy says, ‘In America we work on Saturday.’ Mama asks, ‘You still
keep kosher?’ Guy says, ‘I eat out a lot.’ Mama says, ‘Boychik are you still circumcised?’”

Mutzie chuckled, laughing derisively at the pacing Morgan.

“I’ll ignore that,” Morgan said. “I told you that I was Jewish in good faith.”

“There is no good faith here,” Mickey replied.

“None,” Mutzie sighed.

“Oh yes there is.” Morgan took out an envelope from his jacket pocket. “Two thousand dollars of good faith is in here.”

“They’re bribing us,” Mickey said, as if he had no regard for the money. Schmuck, he told himself, money is money. They were flat broke. Was this part of the miracle, he wondered, or the first stage in his being corrupted?

“They’re as bad as them,” Mutzie sighed.

Morgan hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled. “We don’t murder people,” he said smugly revealing his own patronizing manner.

“Not directly,” Mickey muttered.

“We’d suggest you take the first train that will get you as far away from New York as you can go. Maybe California,” Morgan said, ignoring Mickey’s comment. “After the election, notify us and we’ll come and get you. You’ll get all the protection you need. Then we go to work on these killers.” He smiled and lifted his hands palms up. “What we’re talking about here is merely temporary postponement, that’s all. Just until the election is over. Seems pretty reasonable to me and the governor. After all, he can’t be of help if he doesn’t get reelected. He’ll then be in a powerful position to really do some good. If he’s defeated, he won’t be able to help.”

“And meanwhile they have the greenlight to kill more people,” Mickey said, fuming. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

“On him, I hope,” Mutzie said.

Morgan’s glance passed from Mickey to Mutzie and back.

“I think you’re both being unreasonable.” He waved the envelope. “This should more than cover you both until the governor is reelected. I think it’s quite generous. It comes from the governor’s personal funds. Believe me, he is a big-hearted and compassionate man. This is purely a temporary political decision. Politics is all about the greater good.”

Their deliberate silence had made him expansive. Mickey was certain Morgan felt he was being convincing.

“And if we go to the press?” Mickey said.

“You could.” Morgan agreed. “But I doubt if you and this young lady will be alive much after any story appears. At this point no one knows what you and your girlfriend have witnessed. Tell the press about it and you’ll be a nice juicy target.”

His smugness was turning arrogant now. But he was expressing a certain logic.

“How do we know you told no one else?” Mickey asked.

“I give you my word,” Morgan said.

“That’s not worth too much,” Mickey said, shooting a glance at Mutzie who nodded. “An anti-Semitic Jew who thinks some Jews are kikes.”

“Okay. Mockies then.” Morgan said. “You know what I meant, grubby, low-class Jews.”

“Like us,” Mickey said.

“You’ve totally misunderstood me,” Morgan said.

“You know why the Jews wandered in the desert for forty years?” Mickey said in falsetto, hoping it would emphasize his ridicule. “Somebody dropped a quarter. “

“This man is a maniac,” Morgan said, addressing Mutzie.

“All tumlers are,” Mutzie said.

“You know what happens when a Jew with a hard-on walks into a wall?”

“I’m not going to listen to this,” Morgan said.

“He breaks his nose.”

“Jesus …” Morgan sighed.

“A good Jewish boy. He lived at home until he was thirty. He went into his father’s business. His mother thought he was God … and he thought she was a virgin.”

“We’re trying to help you both,” Morgan said. “Can’t you see that?”

“What I see. …” Mickey said, his anger reaching the boiling point. “What I see … is politicians …” He groped for a word. “Evil. Pure and simple. Evil. It’s sickening.” He moved as close to Morgan as he could get without losing focus. “Who knows how many others they’ll kill between now and the election?”

“You can make an argument,” Morgan said. “That they only kill bad people like themselves.”

Mickey shook his head. He was beginning to feel despair now. He felt betrayed, violated, totally disillusioned. He looked toward Mutzie, whose expression seemed to mirror his own thoughts.

Morgan put the envelope on the dresser.

“We didn’t expect that you’d like this hard lesson in political science. But believe me, it’s the best alternative under the circumstances. “

“Will you get the fuck out of here,” Mickey said, his anger rising at full throttle, “before I …” He wanted to take the man by the throat and squash his Adam’s apple with his bare hands. But Morgan was apparently quick to see there was danger in his staying and swiftly disappeared from the room.

It took Mickey some time before he could get himself under
control. He stared out of the window looking at the capital with rising disgust.

“You didn’t learn this in civics,” he muttered.

“No, we didn’t, Mickey,” she agreed. He felt her breath on the back of his neck as she came up behind him, embracing him.

“I feel so damned helpless,” Mickey said. “In a worse pickle than before.”

“Look at the good side,” Mutzie said. “Two thousand dollars is nothing to sneeze at.”

“But they won’t know what we saw,” Mickey said.

He felt her kiss the back of his neck.

“And maybe … well, maybe … when the Governor is reelected …”

“Don’t bet on it,” Mickey said. “They could be part of it.”

Mutzie looked out of the window, then, after a long pause, turned to face him.

“I don’t want to be a part of it any more, Mickey,” Mutzie said.

“And them?”

“Forget about them. Put them behind us.” She came forward and put her arms around him. He felt the warmth of her embrace. “We can start fresh, clean.”

“Mutzie. They’ll always be behind us. As long as we live. And what we saw will haunt us forever.”

He felt a growing anger. He wished he could laugh it away. He felt small and powerless. This “lesson in political science” had upset him. Getting reelected was all that really counted for a politician. He felt himself drifting away from the larger issue, their own survival.

Mutzie continued to cling to him. He looked down at her and kissed her hair.

“Does it really matter …” he asked aloud, “if they get caught or not?”

“It matters,” she replied. “But not if it hurts us.”

Her words sounded cynical, but also wise and mature. He felt his sense of idealism, of justice, collapsing.

Maybe, in the grand design of things, all this happened so that he could find Mutzie. Maybe everything else was unimportant, extraneous, an exercise in self-righteousness. Who cared, really, if gangsters chose to kill each other. Morgan was right.

“I think you have a point, Mutzie. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“California here we come,” she cried with excitement.

“Become an act,” Mickey said.

Mutzie nodded and smiled.

He looked at her as if it were a cue.

“Doctor you have to help me.”

“I have some dimes stuck in my ear.”

“How long have they been there?”

“A couple of years.”

“Why didn’t you come to me sooner?”

“I didn’t need the money.”

Mickey made the circle sign of approval with his fingers.

“Widow goes to a séance,’ Mickey began. “She contacts her husband.”

“Honey is that really you?” Mutzie retorted.

“Yes, my dear.”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m happy.”

“Happier than you were with me?”

“Yes, my dear.”

“Heaven must be a wonderful place.”

“Who said I’m in heaven?”

They both laughed.

“What a team,” Mickey said. “Why waste our lives worrying about those monsters? We’ll start fresh. You and me.”

“Like George Burns and Gracie Allen.”

Putting a hand on her chin, he lifted her face, put his lips on hers and kissed her deeply.

“Why save the world? Better we save each other.”

“Better that,” she agreed.

Despite his happiness, he felt a vague stirring of guilt. She must have sensed something.

“What is it?”

“This being Jewish. I tell you Mutzie, it’s a cross to bear.”