There could have been his grandfather on the farm and everybody saying how Duddy was the easiest touch in town, allowing ten St. Urbain Street boys into the camp free each season, helping out Rubin with his mortgage after the fire there, paying a head-shrinker fortunes to make a man out of Irwin Shubert, his enemy of old (“Throwing good money after bad,” people said), building a special house for the epileptic who had been hurt working for him in those bygone days of his struggles, and giving so many benefit nights for worthy causes. They would have said that he was cultured too. “A patron of Hersh in the early days. The great man’s best friend.”
Duddy started back through the woods as the sun began to sink and he stopped twice to rest and reflect on the long walk home. Yvette was waiting for him on the porch steps.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“I went for a walk.”
“You’ve been crying.”
“Don’t be crazy. Where’s our fighting editor?”
“Duddy! Asleep. Listen, I’ve got some news for you.”
“Bad?”
“The notary phoned me at the office. The rest of the land has gone up for sale. There are two different owners and —”
“I’m not interested. Save your breath.”
“What?”
“Where could I raise any money now?”
“You’d need forty-five hundred dollars.”
“You might as well say a million. You mean for forty-five hundred I could have complete control?”
“Yes. But — well, other people are beginning to show an interest. Everybody’s beginning to buy land around here. The notary says there’s a boom. Since the Korean War he says —”
“I’m not interested. No more.”
“If you really mean that I’m glad. You almost killed yourself running after that land, Duddy. And how would you have ever raised the money to develop it?”
“Sure.”
“We don’t need to be rich.”
“Let’s not rub it in, please.”
“We can do anything you want.”
“I own a house,” he said. “A big one.” He told her about Uncle Benjy’s letter. “I think we should move in next week, before the winter. It’s time I got started again.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to be a gentleman. Ha, ha, ha.”
“What?”
“How do I know what I’m going to do? We’ll make out.”
“I’ve got faith in you. I’m not worried.”
“Good for you.”
“But I don’t want you to start running again. I couldn’t stand it.”
“Maybe Virgie will give me a job as a reporter?”
“Are you depressed?”
“Smiling Jack, that’s me. Laugh-a-minute Kravitz from way back.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Forty-five hundred bucks. How soon?”
“I thought you said —”
“Look, doll, with my name I’d be lucky if I could raise five. I’m just asking. You can’t shoot a man for being curious.”
“Three weeks. Duddy, if you start running again I’ll leave you. You’ll ruin your health.”
“Running doesn’t give you cancer.”
“What?”
“Skip it. I’m going for a walk.”
“Again?”
“Come with me. I’ll buy you a smoked meat.”
It was the first time he had taken her near the lakeshore, where the Outremont people, and tourists from the States, strolled arm in arm.
“The house will be a big help,” she said, taking his arm. “There’ll be no rent to pay. There’s no point in killing yourself, is there?”
“I’m not exactly the kind of shmo who opens a candy store, you know. A paper route I’m not looking for.”
“There are lots of things you could do.”
“I could be a fireman.”
Yvette kissed him on the cheek. “If you want to,” she said.
“I’m thinking of going to night school.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful. I can get work as a private secretary and —”
” — and The Crusader in about eighty-two cents a month. Listen, my little katchka, not going to live off you any more.”
“Duddy, you have to take it easy for a while. A little while, anyway. Do you realize that you had a nervous breakdown?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m just repeating what the doctor told me.”
“That’s crazy. I didn’t have a breakdown.”
“You had a nervous collapse. What do you want to study?”
“Things.”
“Like what?”
“I came so close too. Forty-five hundred fish.” They entered the restaurant together. “One minute, I want to get a paper.” There had been a rush on the Gazette there was only one copy left. Duddy took a look at the headline and whistled.
DINGLEMAN LINKED WITH DOPE SMUGGLING
Cote Alleges New York Tie-up
He was out on bail, the bastard.
“Oh boy,” Duddy said. “Jeez.”
“What is it?”
“Shettup. I’m reading.”
Cote had charged that Dingleman was connected with an international smuggling organization with an Italian tie-up. He was vague about proof, however. He wanted permission to bring in some American witnesses and to use testimony that had come up during Senator Kefauver’s investigations in the United States. Dingleman, questioned at his apartment, had denied everything. The only comment he’d make on his frequent trips to New York was that they were “of a highly personal nature.” He had, it seemed, been removed from the Montreal-New York train twice, but nothing had been found in his luggage. The rest of the story was a recapitulation of the gambling house and police bribery charges.
“Zowie!”
“Duddy, what is it?”
“I’ve got to make a phone call. I’ll be right back.”
Luckily, Lennie was home. “Listen,” Duddy said, “is heroin white and does it smell like cinnamon?”
“Yes, but —”
“That’s all, brother. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. One minute. Could you make a lab test on some stuff for me and tell me for sure if it was heroin?”
“Duddy, you’re not taking drugs?”
“Once a day and twice on Sunday. Don’t —”
“Don’t worry, Duddy. It’s tough, but cures are possible. There are new techniques. I —”
“Don’t be a jerk all your life. I’m no addict. Are you going to be in tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, but —”
“Good. Wait for me. And not a word about this to Daddy. Understand?”
“You’re a dope-runner. Duddy, I’m warning —”
“The chief rabbi of the underworld, that’s me. See you tomorrow. Good-by, Lefty.”
He came running out of the phone booth, rubbing his hands together and grinning. “I’ll bet the last train has gone,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ve got to get to Montreal tonight. Kid Kravitz rides again. Boy!”
“Duddy, what’s going on?”
“Aw, there’s a bus at six in the morning. I’ll take that. Listen, my little chazer-tell the notary we’re going to buy. Tell him not to advertise the land or even mention it out loud. I’ll have the forty-five hundred in no time. Jeez, am I ever hungry.”
“Will you please tell me —”
“My luck’s changed, that’s all. Give me that paper again.”
Four
1
“O.K.,” Duddy said, “I’m here.”
Dingleman smiled. He wiped his neck with a handkerchief. “Obviously you’re here,” he said.
“You know why I’m here?”
“Certainly. You read I was in trouble and you owe me five hundred dollars.”
“Oh, a big joke. A very joke.”
“You mean that’s not why you’re here?”
“No s
uch luck. I’m here about New York.”
“Aha.”
“I need some money.”
“Yes?”
“A loan.”
“I see.” Dingleman burst out laughing. He slapped his desk. “Aren’t you afraid that a gangster with my reputation might take you for a ride?”
“Listen, Jerry, one thing let’s get straight from the start. I’m tired of people making fun of me. That includes you. O.K?”
“O.K.”
“I need forty-five hundred dollars.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,”
“Do you really think I’m going to give you forty-five hundred dollars? Loan you, is?”
“I opened the suitcase in the toilet. I took some of the heroin out. I’ve still got it.”
“You’re sweating. Are you frightened, Duddy?”
“This isn’t blackmail. I’ll pay you back. Honest, I will.”
“What if I told you I didn’t have that much money?”
“The world is flat. Somebody once tried to tell me that too.”
“When the trial begins next Wednesday the lawyers will be costing me fifteen hundred dollars a day.”
“I feel for you. How much do your night clubs bring in a week?”
“The night clubs are finished. They cost me money these days. I’m selling out all over before television really gets going here.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“What I’m really interested in these days is real estate. Take my advice, Duddy. Buy land.”
“What do you mean by that? Why should I buy land?” Duddy shouted. “Go ahead. Tell me.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Look, let’s not quarrel. I’ll sign a note for the money. I’ll pay you back at the rate of a hundred bucks a month.”
“I haven’t got that much cash to spare.”
“Would you sign for me at the bank if they’d give it to me?”
“I’m not exactly what you call a good credit reference. Besides, any securities I own are tied up in bail money. Sorry, Duddy.” Dingleman looked at his watch. “Come around again some time.”
“You must think I’m kidding. I could go to Cote. If I testified at the trial —”
But Dingleman began to laugh again.
“What’s the big joke?” Duddy asked.
“You carried the suitcase across the border, sonny, not me. They took me off the train, remember? I was stripped. They searched me from top to bottom. I mean that literally.”
“I didn’t know what was in the suitcase.”
“Duddy,” Dingleman said reproachfully, “I don’t pay three lawyers fifteen hundred dollars a day to let that kind of story stand up.”
“It’s the truth but.”
Dingleman didn’t reply.
“It is truth.”
“You must need that money very badly.”
“Oh, I’m the dirty guy, eh? I’m the squealer. What do you call a guy who gets an innocent minor to smuggle dope across the border for him?”
“You got five hundred and fifty dollars for it.”
“I thought the five was a loan.”
“If I had given it to you just like that you would have suspected something. I never expected to get the money back.”
“Please lend me the money. I’ll pay it back. I promise.”
“What do you need it for?”
“Some land.”
“Where?”
“In Southern Siberia. What’s your business? I’m sorry. I can’t tell you.”
“Am I being asked to invest or —”
“You’re definitely not being asked to invest.”
Dingleman looked at his watch again. “I’m late,” he said.
“Aren’t you worried I might go to Cote?”
“Go ahead.”
Duddy hesitated. “I’m not scared. Give me the money or I go to Cote.”
“You’re beginning to sweat again. Look at you.”
“You really think they wouldn’t believe me?”
“Duddy, you sold some pinball machines up north. I saw one of them at Rubin’s this summer. How’d you get them into Canada?”
“I imported them.”
“Not in somebody else’s suitcase, I hope.”
“Jeez, I’ve got to get that money somewhere.”
“I wish I could help.”
Duddy walked to the door. “I hope they put you away for life,” he said.
“Maybe they will. Good-by now.”
“How’d you find out about the pinball machines?”
“Good-by, Duddy.”
“Boy, when I was a kid I used to think you were some guy! My father used to — What a dirty son of a bitch you are!”
“Mickey!”
“O.K. I’m going. I’m going.”
“One minute.”
“I thought you were in such a goddam hurry?”
“I’m interested in real estate. I wasn’t kidding about that. If you’re broke and have something you want to part with, or if you know of anything that might —”
“Hanging’s too good for you,” Duddy said, slamming the door.
He knows, Duddy thought. He found out. Oh, Christ. Duddy began to bite his fingernails, he ordered another cup of coffee. Dingleman had said he’d seen the pinball machine at Rubin’s. Twice at least in the last six months Duddy had seen him with Linda. Oh, the dirty dogs. Those odd marks on the lakeshore. Canes my ass — crutches had made them. Choke to death on razor blades, Dingleman. Let them bury you on a Wednesday night with an onion in your stomach. Now I’m in for it, he thought. Jeez. Duddy hurried home and phoned Yvette.
“I’ve been trying to get you all day,” Yvette said. “Have you got the money?”
“Not yet. Christ almighty.”
“Somebody else is after the land. A Mr. Dingleman.”
Duddy sighed. “What do you mean after it? He’s got the money. Why doesn’t he just buy it?”
“You know Dingleman?”
“It’s Jerry Dingleman. The Boy Wonder.”
“Didn’t you go to New York with him once?”
“Listen, this is long distance. Why doesn’t he just buy?”
“Because our notary found out about the land going up for sale first. He put in a first offer and he’s got an acceptance on paper. There’s something else…”
“Wha’?”
“It’s not important. Skip it.”
“Oh, come on. What else?”
“One of the farmers… well, he hates Jews. He’d prefer to sell to me.”
“God bless him. Listen you get a hold of that fanner and tell him Dingleman is the biggest, fattest, dirtiest, goddam Jew who ever lived. If he gets hold of that land he’s going to build a synagogue on it. You tell him that.”
“Are you coming back tonight?”
“No. Not tonight.”
“Dingleman’s offering more money than we are. Our option’s only good for twenty-one days.”
“I’ll get the money. Don’t worry.”
“There’s something else. According to the agreement I signed we have to put up three hundred dollars option money tomorrow morning. Have you got it?”
“Oh, shit.”
“All right. I’ll get it here.”
“Can you?”
“Yes.”
“Listen, tomorrow I’m going to see about the house. Maybe you and Virgie can move in by the weekend.”
Duddy went to see Mr. Cohen at his office. He’d only just sat down when he realized it was a mistake. I should have waited until tonight, he thought, and seen him at home.
“Look,” Mr. Cohen said. “He’s shaved. Gottze dank”
“I’d like to take you up on your offer.”
“He hasn’t even sat down yet. What offer?”
“I’d like to borrow some money.”
“I beg your pardon,” Mr. Cohen said.
“You offered to lend me some.”
“Stop shouting. What do you want it for
?”
“I’ve got my eye on some land.”
“Where?”
“No, sir.”
“You mean I should trust you and you won’t even tell me —”
“You said you had a soft spot for me. You said —”
“A soft spot, Duddy, but not a hole in the head. You want to come to work for me?”
“No. I want forty-five hundred dollars.”
“Azoi.”
“I’ll pay interest.”
“Duddy, if you’re on to something good and it’s too big for you to handle tell me about it. I might be interested. But to lend money at interest — phooey.”
Boil in acid, Duddy thought. I hope all your teeth fall out. All except one. And the one that’s left should give you a toothache for life.
“You’re still a minor. Your signature is worth kaduchus me.”
“You said you’d help me. That’s why I’m here, Mr. Cohen.”
“Don’t cry, please. I told you that night that I don’t offer loans every day of the week. I’m not the Marshall Plan. Unfortunately, I’ve had a very bad month. Believe me, Duddy, a terrible month.”
“A loan until you get on your feet again. Those were your exact words.”
“But forty-five hundred dollars? Some feet.”
“Lend me what you can.”
“Duddy, I’ve been speculating. Take a look out in the yard and see how high the steel is piled. It’s not moving, Duddy. The bank’s on my neck too. Where’s the land?”
“It’s a good investment. I swear.”
“I’m sure it is. Tell me about it.”
“I’m not looking for a partner. I want a loan. Can you lend me three thousand?”
“Listen, to change the subject for a minute. Your friend Hugh Thomas Calder has got lots of other interests nearby besides the foundry. Who gets the scrap?”
“Funny you should bring that up,” Duddy said, lighting a cigarette. “Hugh and I are having dinner again tonight.”
“He wants your advice on the market maybe?”