Act of Fear

Chapter 14

I stood at the head of the block where Swede Olsen and family lived in their gaudy sewer and watched all the shadows around me. This street was dark, but it was not deserted. In the hot summer night the stoops and fire escapes and sidewalks were festooned with men in vests and women in house-dresses. They had carried chairs and boxes out of their stifling rooms and sat in silent apathy. Some rested on the kerb. The women stared into nothing. The men drank from beer cans. From time to time someone moved, talked. It was, after all, Saturday night. The free time. The happy time.

I went down the block, and they barely looked at me. They did not care about me. They did not see me. They were too busy trying to see themselves. I passed them and climbed the few steps into the vestibule of the Olsens’ building. The downstairs door was open on the hot night. I blended into the shadows of the dim downstairs hallway. I stood there for some time. There was no one suspicious on the street outside. Had they learned something from old Schmidt after all? If they had, it had probably been too late for Jo-Jo for some hours now. I was sure they had learned nothing from Schmidt, but where were they? I did not like the feel of it. I felt things closing in.

I climbed the stairs. Doors were open all through the tenement. The rooms inside the open doors were dark, because lights give off heat. Phantom shapes moved inside the dark rooms. The blue-white light of television sets flickered. Electric fans whirred. I went on up, slowly, and no one even turned a head to look at me.

The Olsens’ door was closed. The Olsens had more on their mind than the heat. I pressed the button and waited. I knew, of course, that I was taking a risk. I had been warned to lay off. This visit to the Olsens would be the final push. There was a big risk, but that is what life is in the end — the risks you take. If you never take a risk you never live. You just exist the way a carrot exists. I did not feel brave, I just had to go on living.

Swede himself opened the door. ‘You’re crazy, Fortune.’

His sons sat in chairs behind the big Norwegian. They got up as Swede spoke. The mother, Magda, was in a green dress that made her wrinkled face a nauseating yellow. She seemed, for an instant, unable to believe that I was actually there again. I did not see the daughter. I pushed in past Swede. The two boys came to meet me with their clenched fists. I felt Swede big behind me.

Before they could gather their wits and swing into action I started to talk. I hit them with every hunch I had and every word I could remember. No names and a lot of guesses. It’s an old police method.

‘He came back and found that Stettin had tagged the car, right? After he killed Tani Jones he came back and found that Jo-Jo had moved the car; it was tagged, and he went out and got the summons book from Stettin. Then he came after Jo-Jo. Sure, I can see how scared you’d all be. I would be, with him after me. I’d be terrified. A man like that, big enough to try to buck even Pappas? Caught in the middle…’

No names, just ‘he’, and it sounds like you know more than you do. If the other man is confused, scared, he will usually slip. The other man knows, he has the secret inside his mind, and all at once under the barrage of words he assumes that you too know. It slips out. He tries to defend himself, and out it comes. I’ve used it a hundred times in divorce cases. A guy thinks his wife knows, and I make him think that; and out it comes.

‘… There he was cheating on Pappas, making a big play for Andy’s girl friend. Then, bang-bang, he kills her. Man, I mean, he’s got trouble. But he can get away all right. Then he gets to the car — and it’s been tagged. People know he’s on the block. Jo-Jo knows he’s on the block. He had to try to kill Jo-Jo! Jo-Jo saw him! What else could he do but try to get Jo-Jo?’

Swede Olsen shook his head at me. The two sons looked like death. I suppose it was death they were thinking about. Even Magda-the-rock blinked those washed-out eyes and seemed hypnotized as I talked. You see, they knew. Like the guilty husband or wife in a divorce mess, they knew and they thought I knew. They thought, I made them think, that I knew more than I did. But I did not have it quite right, you see? They were sure now that I knew too much, but I had it a little wrong. They had to explain to me where I was wrong, why it was not as bad as I made it seem. At least the weakest link did, and that was Swede. Swede and his big boys. Swede was up to his eyes in guilt, and that is the real trap. Swede had been living with it too long. He had to explain how I had it wrong.

‘No, he don’t hurt Jo-Jo,’ Swede said, insisted. ‘He won’t never hurt Jo-Jo. Jo-Jo don’t see nothing, and he ain’t gonna say nothing, see? Okay, he got the lousy ticket, only he ain’t gonna talk. Jake he knows it’s okay.’

‘Don’t make me laugh,’ I said. I laughed. ‘A murder rap?’

‘Jake he don’t hurt Jo-Jo,’ Swede insisted, tried to convince himself. I suppose he had convinced himself up until then.

‘Dumb Jo-Jo got to grab that ticket,’ one of the boys said.

‘Stupid jerk,’ the other boy said.

‘Shut up!’ Magda Olsen said, shouted, raged. ‘Shut up!’

Magda had seen the trap. She had sensed the trick I was playing out. She tried to stop them. But Swede had lived with his doubt too long.

‘Hell,’ Swede sneered, ‘it’s okay. Jake he won’t hurt Jo-Jo, but he’ll take care of this creep. You’re through, Fortune. Jake, he’ll handle you good.’

Jake. There it was. At that moment, as I watched all of the Olsens, one thing only was going through my mind — a thought, almost out of left field: If Max Bagnio had not been in Marty’s apartment last night, I would be a dead man now.

Jake Roth had not dared to kill me with Bagnio there. Because Pappas would have wanted to know why Jake had killed me, and the reason was that Jake Roth had killed Tani Jones! That was the one thing Jake never wanted Pappas to know. And that was what was behind the whole mess.

Jake Roth.

It happens like some great discovery in science. Once that first small break comes, then it all fits. It is suddenly all clear. All the pieces come together. Of course Jake Roth.

Isolated facts suddenly assume a pattern. A distorted picture comes into focus. Jake Roth. A cold-blooded killer, not too bright but cunning. A big enough man to hire other men to go against Andy Pappas. Stupid enough to cheat on Pappas and animal enough to kill a dumb girl if he became scared. An animal who lived by violence and the gun, and violence had been the key all along. Of course Jake Roth, and my mind began to put the rest of the pieces together.

‘Jo-Jo took the ticket off the car,’ I said. I saw it in my mind, the action on Water Street that Thursday evening. ‘He pushed the car. It was tagged by Stettin. Jo-Jo was afraid the owner of the car had seen him on the block all day. He thought that maybe the owner would guess who had pushed the car and got it a ticket. He figured the owner would be mad. So he took the ticket and thought the owner would never know. Sure, a kid’s trick, a little prank, a funny move. Very clever. Just take the ticket, and the owner would never even know he had been tagged. Only Jo-Jo made a mistake, didn’t he? Some mistake.’

While I talked I thought about Jake Roth. It was all obvious now. The way Roth had worked me over. The way Bagnio had become nervous. Pappas had not sent them. Jake Roth had been on his own time last night. Roth had brought Max Bagnio to make it look like Pappas had sent them — if he had come alone I might have been suspicious right then. After all, Roth knew what he had done, and he did not know how much I knew. Now my brain gave me the small incident that had been out-of-normal — the way Roth had pushed me too hard that day at O. Henry’s with the message to lay off the Olsens. Pappas had already made the point. Roth had been too eager.

‘What mistake did Jo-Jo make?’ I said.

Swede shrugged. ‘No mistake. Jake he saw that cop tag the car. From the window of the dame’s place.’

I pictured the scene on Water Street. Tani Jones’s apartment must be in the rear of the building on Doyle Street — with a clear view of the north side of Water Street. Jake Roth, with a dead girl in the room, saw Stettin ticket his car that had been pushed into a no-parking zone! Roth must have left on the run or as fast as he could while faking the burglary, and when he got to his car — the ticket was gone.

‘Jo-Jo don’t even know the car!’ one of the boys said.

Roth had just killed Tani Jones, and his car had been tagged — with the licence number a matter of record. All right, why was that so bad? Even if the police managed to learn about the ticket, it only placed Roth on the scene. They still had to place Roth inside the apartment of Tani Jones to make a charge stick. But the answer to this was clear enough. It wasn’t the police that scared Roth; it was Andy Pappas.

Roth had had no business on Water Street that day. To be there proved he had lied to Pappas, and Roth certainly knew Tani Jones. Andy Pappas could put two and two together as well as the next man. He could do it better — Andy lived his life wary and suspicious of everything. The lie, the presence of the car on Water Street, and the fact that Roth knew Tani, would have made Pappas at least suspicious. Once suspicious, Andy would have found out the rest — he had ways.

All right, but what had made Roth think that Pappas would learn about the ticket and the car — even from the summons book? How could Andy find out about the ticket if it were turned in by Stettin? There was only one way. I remembered what Gazzo had said about Roth’s alibi — Jake had been at the Jersey shore all day. The captain had said that the police knew that Roth’s car had never left Jersey — his car!

‘The car wasn’t Jake’s, was it? It was one of Pappas’ own cars,’ I said. That was the only answer. The car had been registered to Pappas, and therefore the summons could get back to Andy someday. ‘Jo-Jo took the ticket. Roth couldn’t even pay it if he had wanted to. Not much, but enough problem for Jake. He had to get the summons book from Stettin and then try to find the ticket.’

I could imagine Jake Roth standing beside that car and thinking it all out with the dead Tani Jones only moments behind him. The ticket placed him in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was big odds against Pappas finding out, even if the ticket wasn’t paid — but there was a chance, a possibility. And a chance was something Jake Roth did not take if he could be sure by a little mugging and murder.

‘Jo-Jo didn’t recognize the car,’ I said. ‘He came home with the ticket, and you saw it.’

Swede nodded. ‘I know the licence number. I mean, I drives for Mr Pappas and Jake sometimes. That number, it hit me right in the face.’

‘You’d heard about Patrolman Stettin,’ I said. ‘We all had by then. You figured something was very wrong.’

‘The stupid kid laughed,’ Swede said. ‘He don’t even know the car. He shows me the ticket and laughs. Jake Roth is worried, and Jo-Jo he laughs.’

‘How did you figure it was Roth driving the car?’ I said.

‘I know Mr Pappas is in Washington. I know Jake is at the Jersey shore. I know the car is at the shore. I know Jake he likes that Jones pig. I mean, a couple of times when Jake was drunk he talked about the Jones girl. I tell him he’s crazy to fool with Mr Pappas’ girl, but Jake says he can handle her.’

‘So you saw the ticket, you knew about Stettin, and you guessed that Roth had been driving the car. You figured Roth was worried Pappas would find out he was cheating with Tani Jones. You knew Water Street was behind her building.’

‘Yeh,’ Swede said. ‘I figured something like that.’

I nodded slowly. They were all looking away from me. They were studying the walls or the floor, examining their hands.

‘Why did he kill Tani, Swede?’

Magda Olsen answered for Swede. ‘Jake don’t kill no one.’

I watched her. Her face was a rock. Unbreakable and impassive.

‘You know better,’ I said.

‘We don’t know nothing,’ Magda Olsen said.

‘Yeh,’ Swede said quickly. ‘We don’t know nothing. Jake he don’t kill no one.’

As usual, Swede talked too much. He did not see the ridiculous contradiction of his words. None of them did. Or they did, but they did not care. They had given me the official communique. That was their story: they knew Roth had killed no one, and they also knew nothing. But what about Jo-Jo? He had run.

I felt uneasy. Something was odd. They knew nothing, that was their story. They were behind Jake Roth — and yet Jo-Jo had run. Why?

‘You figured that Roth wanted that ticket, and Jo-Jo had it,’ I said. ‘How come Jo-Jo didn’t give it to Jake?’

Swede seemed to find something very interesting on the floor. ‘We don’t know Jake needs it so bad.’

I considered Swede, and thought about the time sequence. Jo-Jo took the ticket. Swede recognized the licence number. Swede guessed that Roth had been driving the car. Swede had heard about Stettin. Okay. But at that point, Thursday night, they did not know about the murder of Tani Jones. Her body had not been found until early Friday morning when the maid arrived.

‘You found out by Friday morning,’ I said.

Alert, they would have known about Tani Jones almost as soon as the police. They were behind Roth. By all the facts and rules of the Olsens’ lives the affair should have ended with Jo-Jo giving the ticket to Roth, the Olsens remaining silent, and a sigh of relief from Roth. Omerta, the code of silence.

Or in this case, because the dead woman had been the woman of Andy Pappas, they could have gone to Pappas. Not the cops, no, that was not done, that was Omerta. But why not Pappas? That ticket, the story, given to Pappas might have got all the Olsens a medal — especially Jo-Jo. But Jo-Jo had run instead.

‘Jo-Jo ran,’ I said. ‘Jo-Jo didn’t give that ticket to Roth, or to Pappas. Why?’

It was one of the boys who could not remain silent.

‘He don’t like Mr Roth!’ the boy snarled. ‘He’s a big deal, yeh! Sure, Jo-Jo he’s too good for us.’

‘A big race driver he’s gonna be,’ the other boy said.

Magda Olsen was purple. ‘Shut up! Shut up!’

Jo-Jo did not like Jake Roth. Jo-Jo did not recognize a car of Andy Pappas’ when his father, Swede, worked for Pappas. You remember that I said that it isn’t the facts, the events, the overt happenings that tell a story? No, not the simple facts and events. Something else, and I could smell the something else in that room. The something else was the character of Jo-Jo Olsen. The character I had sensed all along — the difference of Jo-Jo. The reason why it had not all ended as it should have was that Jo-Jo did not share his family’s way of life.

More. Jo-Jo did not only not share their ways, he opposed their way of life. To the point of not helping Roth and also to the point of not helping Andy Pappas. Jo-Jo Olsen was not regular. I could see it all there in the faces of the Olsens. The boys with anger on their animal faces not for Roth but for Jo-Jo. Magda Olsen — hard, cold, like a rock.

Swede himself must have been thinking all that I was. The big man shook his head slowly back and forth.

‘Crazy dumb kid,’ Swede said. ‘Always a stupid, dumb kid.’

A crazy dumb kid. I saw it — and Jake Roth had seen it. Jo-Jo was not regular. How could Roth feel safe with a man who was not regular? Roth was a man who had to be sure. He was facing the cops, and he was facing the anger of Andy Pappas. If I had been facing the revenge of Andy Pappas I would have wanted to be sure — very sure. I would want that ticket, and I would want the man who had it. I would have wanted it fast. Especially if it was in the hands of a boy who was not regular, who could not be trusted to follow the code.

Only… and the uneasiness came again. The sense of something very odd. Because I realized that Jake Roth could not have known on Thursday night who had the ticket. If he had known, he would have been at the Olsens’ in five seconds flat. He could not have known, because Jo-Jo had not run until Friday morning! Jo-Jo had remained at home, with the ticket, all Thursday night and into Friday morning. Which left a lot of hours between Roth learning about the ticket and Jo-Jo’s rabbit act. Hours I did not think Roth would have let pass in peace if he had known who had the original ticket. And hours in which Jo-Jo should have already been running, if he was going to run at all, instead of waiting until Friday morning — if Roth had known it was Jo-Jo who had the ticket.

Then it hit me — hard. Jo-Jo had not run until the murder of Tani Jones had been discovered. Jo-Jo had not run until the Olsens must have known just how bad the trouble was that Roth was in. That was all that had happened between Thursday night and Friday morning that changed the situation. That and the fact that, apparently, Roth had learned who had the ticket. But how…

‘How did Jake learn that Jo-Jo had the ticket?’ I said. ‘He didn’t see Jo-Jo take the ticket, or even push the car. If he had, he would have been after Jo-Jo Thursday night.’

They were silent. I looked from stone face to stone face. I felt that uneasiness again. I felt something lurking there in the room just under the surface. I looked at Magda Olsen. She would be the one to say it, if anyone did. She said it.

‘His name it ain’t Roth,’ Magda Olsen said. ‘It’s Lindroth. He changed it. Jake Lindroth. He’s Norwegian.’

Swede explained. ‘Jake, he got me in with Mr Pappas.’

‘Norwegian,’ Magda Olsen said, ‘He’s Lars’s cousin.’

‘My cousin, see?’ Swede said. ‘I owes him.’

‘Lars he works for Jake, not for Pappas,’ Magda Olsen said.

‘Jake, he got me in,’ Swede said.

I heard it. I got it. And I got something else. If I was afraid of Jake Roth, I’d want to be sure, too. I mean, if I knew something about Jake Roth that could get Roth a quick trip to the morgue or the bottom of the river or a shallow grave in the Jersey marshes, I would want to be very sure that Roth knew I was safe and regular and very silent. Especially if I worked for Roth, or with Roth. Jake Roth would not feel good about a cousin, a protege, who held out on him.

‘Jake got plans for Lars,’ Magda Olsen said.

In my spine I felt a monster in the gaudy room. A monster that stirred, assumed a shape. Like something that looms up out of a swamp on a dark night. The silence of the room had a stink like the breath of the monster. Swede Olsen and his boys were not looking at me. Only the old woman looked at me. She was a tough old bird. She did not flinch. Nothing in this world is simple, easy. Courage and honesty and strength are not qualities that always serve the good. Many killers are brave. Magda Olsen was not a woman who flinched from the truth.

‘All this what we got,’ Magda Olsen said, ‘is by Jake Roth. We owe Jake. All this, and more we’re gonna get.’

She waved her bony hand to indicate the whole grotesque apartment. They owed Jake Roth the big-fish home in the small-pond world where they lived. They lived on Jake Roth, and on the more they hoped he would get for them. The old woman waved her arm to show me what they owed Roth. She gave me her Gibraltar face. A rock of granite, the face of Magda Olsen.

After a moment I said the words. ‘You told Roth. Friday morning, after you heard about the murder of Tani Jones, you told Roth that it was Jo-Jo who had the ticket.’

The monster was out. It slouched in that room like some leering black shape without human form.

Swede Olsen sweated. ‘I got to tell Jake. I mean, when I finds out how bad it is, I got to tell him. He was gonna find out, you know? He don’t stop till he finds out. If he finds out and I ain’t told him, you know what happens? I mean, Jake he got to trust me.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘Jake got to trust you. That’s important.’

Swede wiped his face. ‘Listen, Fortune, I owe Jake. I got to tell Jake so he knows it’s okay. I got to tell him he’s safe.’

‘So you found out he killed Andy Pappas’ girl friend, and you had to show how loyal you are,’ I said. ‘And Jo-Jo? You know Roth can’t trust Jo-Jo. Cousin or no cousin. You knew that.’

Swede was eager. ‘I make Jo-Jo beat it. I tell Jake he knows we won’t talk and I’ll make Jo-Jo get out of town. I mean, I got Jo-Jo safe out of town, and Jake trusts me. See? Jake he was real grateful. He says it’s okay. He don’t got to worry, and Jo-Jo he’s safe out of town.’

Then they all began to talk. At me. They all talked at me, the words tumbling out as if a dam had burst.

‘Then you got to come around!’ Magda Olsen said. ‘You got to ask questions.’

‘You got to talk to the cops!’ one boy said.

‘You got to tell them go look for Jo-Jo!’ the other boy said.

‘You got to kick it all up!’ Swede said.

‘You!’ Magda said. ‘You got to worry Jake!’

I looked at all of them.

‘You’re not worried?’ I said.

The silence after that was like thick cream. A room full of heavy yogurt. If I could stand high enough I could have walked on that silence.

‘You really thought Roth would leave Jo-Jo alone?’ I said. ‘Jake Roth? You really thought Jake would let a man he didn’t trust run around with enough on him to hang him? Even without the ticket, Jo-Jo knew! Jo-Jo could talk to Pappas! Any time in the next hundred years!’

‘Mr Roth is family!’ Magda Olsen said.

I laughed at her. In her face. ‘A fifty-fifty chance at best. Roth would kill his mother if she knew too much and he didn’t trust her to keep quiet.’

But the old woman was tough. ‘Mr Roth he says it’s okay, you hear? Mr Roth he trusts us. Then you come around. You and that stupid dirt pig Vitanza. You come looking, you ask questions, you go to the cops!’

She raved at me, and I listened; and maybe she was right after all. Maybe Roth would have trusted the Olsens to keep Jo-Jo quiet as long as Jo-Jo never came back to Chelsea. Maybe I had put the boy’s neck in the noose. It can happen that way when you start stirring up the muddy water. Maybe Petey Vitanza had crucified his friend by trying to help him. I did not think so, I knew Roth too well for that, but it was possible. Anything is possible; even that Jake Roth might stop short of being absolutely sure. But I had asked the questions. The water had been stirred up.

‘Then?’ I said. ‘After I came around? What then? I got Roth worried, okay, but you knew he was worried. You know he is worried. You know he’s looking for Jo-Jo right now! You can go to the cops now. Or to Pappas. You think Jake just wants to talk to Jo-Jo now?’

‘Sure, talk,’ Swede Olsen said. The big Norwegian said it to the floor, to his feet in those ridiculous two-toned shoes. ‘Jake wants to talk to Jo-Jo, make it sure, you know?’

I think my mouth hung open. I know I laughed. It was more a snort than a laugh.

Magda Olsen’s voice was clear and steady. She stood in that room as rigid as steel, and her voice was as hard as steel.

‘Jo-Jo takes care of himself,’ Magda Olsen said. ‘Lars is an old man. We live good. We got five kids. We got one in college, yeh. All our life Lars he works like a pig on the docks. I work, I sweat. Like animals we live. Now we live good. Mr Roth, he’s a cousin, he gets Lars work with Mr Pappas. Good work, good money, the best. Mr Pappas he’s good to us because Jake Roth asks him to be good. In one day for Mr Pappas, Lars he makes more money than two months on the docks. He is too old to go back to the docks. We got five kids. We only got one Jake Roth.’

What do you say? Go on, tell me. You feel sick, sure, but what do you say? Do you tell them that no human being risks his child to help a Jake Roth? Sure, that’s true. It’s real easy to say, especially if you wear a white collar and drive to work through safe streets. Do you say that Lars Olsen and his worn-out old woman should go back and work themselves to death, risk all they have and what life they have left, to save their boy? It sounds good, only I’m not so sure how true it is. How far is a father responsible for saving his son from his own mistakes? How much must a mother endure in this life for her child? It’s easy to feel sick when no one is asking you to give up all that you have, all that you want, all that you need. Does it matter if the needs are rotten? Who says which need is good and which bad? And what about the other four kids? Do you sacrifice one boy to give the other four a better life — a life they at least think is better? Lars Olsen back on the docks at his age could do nothing for his kids. Magda Olsen was already an old woman long before her time. One for four. Are you so sure? I’m not.

‘You can go to the police,’ I said. ‘Maybe Pappas would be grateful.’

Magda Olsen had made her decision. ‘With what? We don’t know where Jo-Jo is.’

‘You don’t know?’ I said.

Swede Olsen watched his feet. ‘I don’t want I should know. Jo-Jo he’s okay. Jake is okay. Jake is a good man. He don’t hurt Jo-Jo.’

Swede was still trying to convince himself. Maybe he was trying to convince his other boys. He was saying that he was, after all, a good father and a big man. He was telling me, his sons, and himself that he really believed that Jo-Jo would be all right. The old woman, Magda, did not bother. She knew. She knew the truth and she faced it. Jo-Jo was on his own. Magda Olsen had more important things to think about, consider, and she did not hide from the truth. She had decided about her life and where her duty lay.

I left them.

I did not feel well. Magda Olsen was a woman who faced the facts, and she knew where her duty was and what it demanded. I knew that, too. All the way down those dark stairs past the opened doors where shadows moved in silence inside the stifling rooms my feet hardly seemed to touch the stairs. My legs felt stiff, my feet almost numb. Because I had done it. I had stood up and rocked the boat. It was all out in the open. I could not prove anything, but I had told the world what I knew. I had told Jake Roth what I knew. Because it did not take much imagination to know that Magda Olsen would be on the telephone. She was probably calling Roth right now.

All along that dark street my head felt light and my legs were still like stiff boards. I was a marked man now. Unless I could stop Roth, find Jo-Jo, and get some proof, I was a dead man.

And I did not even know where Jo-Jo could be.