Solomon's Vineyard (17 page)

“Hello,” I said.

“Dear, I can't see you tonight.”

“No?”

“Are you terribly disappointed?”

“Of course.”

“I have to go to the Festival.”

I was scared. “My God, is this the night they . ..?”

“No. Tomorrow night.”

“Oh.”

“You're not still thinking of getting her out, are you, honey?”

“No,” I lied.

“That's a good boy.” There was a pause. “What have you done with what
we got?”

“It's in a safe place.”

“I think it'll be safer together.”

“I don't know.”

“Yes. Bring it out tomorrow afternoon.”

This was a command. “Okay,” I said.

“Don't forget, honey; around two tomorrow afternoon.”

“I won't.”

I hung up. She'd probably decided I was getting too big a cut. I
found the bottle of rye and poured myself half a tumblerful. I got my
hat and went down the hall to the elevator. When the elevator came I
heard a door open up the hall towards my room.

It was hot out on the street. I walked towards town. Near the big
movie theatre I stopped in a lunch-counter joint and had three
hamburgers, a whole dill pickle and two bottles of beer. Then I had
some fresh peach pie.
Strange Cargo
was playing at the movie. A
sign said: cool inside. About a block further down the street I got an
idea a man was following me. I looked back and saw a big man in a black
suit. I went by McGee's office building and around the block. The man
tagged along. I went into the office building. McGee was sitting at the
desk in his private office. He made washing motions with his hands when
he saw me. “You seem to be in trouble, Craven,” he said.

“What kind of trouble?”

His eyes watched me out the triangles of flesh. “There has been a
robbery at the Vineyard.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. A man was killed and it is believed a sum of money was taken.”

“I didn't know they kept any money out there,” I said. “How much?”

“The exact sum is not known.” He leaned over the desk. “But the point
is: they suspect you of having taken it.”

“Me?”

“One of the Brothers reported you struck him the other day.”

“I did,” I said. “But that was so I could talk with the Grayson gal.”

He nodded. “I know.” He washed his hands again. “But there are other
things. You were seen at the Vineyard with me.”

I shrugged my shoulders and looked at him. He went on:

“And most important, you were seen leaving the Vineyard early this
morning.”

“Who saw me?”

“The same Brother.”

I wished I had hit his head a little harder, so it had split. “That
doesn't look so good,” I admitted.

He tapped his fingers on the desk. “Did you take the money?”

“Hell, no.”

“You did not kill the guard?”

“I don't know anything about it.”

“You're—ah—quite sure?”

“Christ, yes!” I said. “I ought to know who I kill, hadn't I?”

“What were you doing out there last night?”

“Early this morning's more like it,” I said. “I wanted to take a look
around. I've been thinking I might have to kidnap the Grayson girl,
after all.”

My story didn't get over so good. “I thought,” he said “we agreed
that we wouldn't do that?”

“Well, nothing else seemed to do any good.”

“That's true. Quite true.” He looked down at his hands “It is too
bad.”

“I don't know,” I said.

“I don't believe you follow me, Craven. It is too bad it will be
necessary for you to leave town.”

“Me leave town? Don't make me laugh.”

“I am not trying to be funny, Craven. You say you did not steal the
money. I believe you.”

“That's white of you.”

lie went right along. “Hut the Brothers do not. They are very
dangerous when aroused. It is not safe for you here.”

“I've got to stay.”

“I will explain to Mr. Grayson,” McGee said. “He will not want you to
risk your life.”

“It's my life.”

“They may be after you even now.”

“To hell with them.”

He stood up. “Well, Craven, I must say I admire your spirit. I hope
you will not have to regret your decision.”

“Thanks.”

“I felt it my duty to warn you.”

“Sure.”

“If you should change your mind, let me know.”

“All right.”

He tapped his yellow teeth with a fingernail. “I'd rather you didn't
phone me . . . because of the position you're now in. You understand?”

I nodded.

“If it's at night, come to my residence. I read until one in my
library. It is in the rear of the house. You can tap at the french
doors.”

“Okay,” I said. “The french doors. But don't count on me coming
around.”

I went out and after half a block, the guy in the dark suit picked me
up again. I began to get creepy. Nobody likes to be followed,
especially when it might be somebody with murder in his mind. I thought
I'd better find out about the dark suit.

I walked to a place where there was one cab waiting. I got in and
said loudly: “To the Arkady.” When I got there I went upstairs to my
room, slammed the hall door and then opened it a crack. Pretty soon the
elevator stopped at the third floor and the guy came out and went into
the room next to mine. I waited a minute, and then I knocked on his
door.

“Who is it?”

“The room clerk.”

The door came open a foot. I put my shoulder against it and shoved my
way into the room. The guy in the dark suit had a pistol pointed at my
stomach. I closed the door. The guy looked scared.

“What do you want?”

“That's what I came to ask you.”

“I don't want anything.”

“You've been tailing me,” I said. “Why?” The hand holding the pistol
was kind of shaky. “You're wrong, buddy; I haven't followed anybody.”

“Nuts,” I said.

I saw the guy was cock-eyed. One eye was looking at the door and the
other was looking at me. “If you don't get out, I'll call the
operator.”

“You're sure you haven't been following me?”

“Of course I'm sure. You must be crazy. I don't even know who you
are.”

I pretended to be convinced. “I'm sorry, mister. Somebody has been
following me. I thought he came in here.”

“You thought wrong.” The guy was getting cocky. He waved the pistol
at me. “You're lucky I didn't plug you, buddy, when you pushed into
here.”

“I guess I was.” I turned to go. There was a Bible on the dresser. I
picked it up and threw it. He ducked, and I had the gun before he knew
what had happened. I hit him with it, and he went down. I let him sit
up, and then I kicked his face. The kick stunned him. I pulled a sheet
from the bed, tore off a piece and gagged him. I pulled him up on the
bed. After a while he came to.

“Now let's have the story, brother,” I said. He made a noise through
the gag, but I didn't want to take it off for fear he'd shout. I got a
pencil and a sheet of writing-paper from the desk. When I came back he
kicked my stomach with both feet. I lit hard on the floor, most of the
breath out of me. He slid across the bed towards the telephone. I
caught at his legs, but his hands knocked the phone off the table. It
crashed on the floor. He tried to kick me again, but: I had his legs. I
brought him off the bed to his knees. His fists beat against my head. I
punched him in the gut and he doubled up, still on his knees. I could
hear a voice saying 'Hello' on the phone. I let him have one on the
side of the jaw. It cooled him. I crawled to the phone..

“Hello,” the clerk was saying. “Hello.”

“Hello,” I said. “Can you tell me the right time?”

“Why, yes. It's twenty past seven.”

“Thank you.”

I hung up. I got a towel and wet it and wiped the blood off the guy's
face. The water brought him around. He lay on the floor, on his back,
trying to get air through the gag. His gasping sounded awful. I
wondered if he was going to die.

He got better in a few minutes. The sound of his screaming died away.
He looked up at me from the floor, his eyes wet with pain.

“Sit up.”

He sat up, I found the pencil and paper and gave them to him. I
asked: “Who hired you to tail me?”

He wrote: “The police.” I hit him, and said: “You better come clean,
brother.” Blood began to seep through the gag.

He wrote: “McGee.”

I blinked at that. “McGee, eh! Why did he want me tailed?”

He shook his head. I hit him. He wrote: “McGee wanted to frighten you
out of town.”

“How much did he pay you to do it?”

He wrote: “$200.”

“You're earning it,” I said. “Get up on the bed.”

He crawled up on the bed. I got a hundred-dollar bill out of my
pocket. “Where'd you come from?”

“Kansas City.”

I tore the bill. “Listen. I'll give you half of this now, and I'll
send half to Kansas City, care of Paul Smith, General Delivery, if you
telephone me from there in the morning.”

He reached for half the bill. “And if you're still in Paulton
tomorrow, I'll kill you, so help me,” I said. His eyes got big and I
stuck the bill in his hand and went to my room. I locked the door and
pulled the shades down and undressed. I looked at his pistol. It was
loaded. I took it to bed with me.

THE COUPE slid along the cement at a smooth sixty, heading for a bank
of heavy clouds that steadily got higher on the horizon. The country
was flat and dry-looking, and when the coupe got near the edge of the
road dust swirled up. It was hot, but the air smelled of rain. We came
to a sign saying:
Temple
—
one mile.

Ginger was driving. “If Pug ever hears I took you,” she said, “he'll
bump me.”

There wasn't much I could say to that, so I didn't say anything.
Ginger let up on the gas. I heard a rumble of thunder. The black clouds
covered half the sky. We went by a long field of corn, and then we came
to a row of elms. There was a farmhouse and a white fence, and on the
lawn two kids were playing with a collie. Temple had two garages, a
general store, a drug store, five service stations, a movie with a sign
saying:
Next Saturday—Clark Gable in San Francisco,
and a
combination restaurant and pool hall. There were about thirty frame
houses in the town.

Ginger said: “Now where?”

The dashboard clock said eleven-ten. “The cemetery, I guess.”

“Where's that?”

Two old men were sitting on the porch of the general store. I leaned
out the window and asked one of 'em: “Dad where's the cemetery?”

One of the old men had a drooping moustache. He spat through it at a
post. “Which one?”

Ginger said: “Jesus! have you got two?”

“How's that?”

I told the old man we wanted the Pendis funeral. He knew about it. It
was at Rock Creek Cemetery. He told us how to get there. It was about a
mile from town, along a dirt road.

We could see tombstones in the grass on the side of a hill. There was
a winding path into the graveyard, and on it were parked five cars.
Ahead, and a little off the path, was a hearse. A sudden breeze made
yellow flowers nod in the grass, then died away. Apple trees grew in
the graveyard.

,”The funeral's drawing good,” I said.

''She was always a popular girl,” Ginger said.

I looked at her, but there was no particular expression on her face.
She drove in back of the other cars. People were standing by the
hearse. We got out and went over to them. The punk saw me. He had on a
blue suit that was too big for him. “Thanks for coming,” he said. He
gave me back sixty-five from the two hundred I'd given him. “And thanks
for the dough.”

“It's okay,” I said.

A wind came again, and with it thunder. The preacher started over to
where the coffin was by an open grave. I got the wreath out of the rear
of the coupe. Ginger walked on with the punk, and all the others
followed the preacher, too. When I caught up I saw there were a bunch
of young girls in the crowd. They shied away from me, their faces
frightened. I thought, what the hell! Then I saw an older woman with
them, and I knew the reason. It was the madam and the babes from the
whorehouse.

While the preacher was saying what he had to say, it began to rain.
The drops of water felt queer. They were warm. They didn't cool
anything at all. I looked around the crowd and saw the punk. His face
was white and he was crying. He looked as though he was going to be
sick. I guess he had loved her. The preacher's voice died away and some
yokels began to lower the coffin in. the grave. The whores were
weeping, all but the madam. She stared at me, her face sullen. She was
probably thinking of her radio-phonograph combination.

The coffin reached the bottom of the grave and the men slipped off
the ropes. All the women in the crowd were crying now, and. some of the
men. It made me feel a little tight at the throat. The preacher said a
few words more, standing bent over so the warm rain wouldn't hit his
face. He finished and some of the people threw flowers in the grave.
They began to move away. I took a peek into the grave. Flowers had
almost covered the coffin. I thought: there goes $135. It was the first
time I'd ever spent that much on a doll without getting something in
return.

Ginger grabbed my arm. I followed her eyes back to the cars. Through
the rain I saw Pug Banta coming towards us, his arms full of roses.
Back of him were a couple of his boys. They came right through the
mourners, bumping men and women out of their way. I felt Ginger
tremble.

“Dear God!” she said.

Pug came up to the grave and dumped the roses on the other flowers.
It was raining hard. He walked over to us, looking like some kind of a
monkey with his long arms and short legs. His club foot made him limp.

“Come on,” he snarled at us. “You're going with me.”

We didn't move. His boys stood looking at us from the grave. Carmel's
brother left the preacher by the cars and came towards us.