Blood Game

Chapter Ten

Sometimes he forgot the name of the town he was in. With the coming of streetcars and tall buildings, with the coming of large glass display windows and crowded sidewalks, towns all began to look alike.

He could not, standing at the hotel window and looking down at the street, recall the name of this town, for instance.

He puffed on his cigar and continued to watch late afternoon passengers board the streetcar.

He looked at his pocket watch.

He was supposed to meet Reynolds downstairs in five minutes. He turned around and said, “I’m going to go downstairs to get some cigars. I’ll come right back up.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“No. I don’t think Victor will bother me anymore today. We got through our meeting. He’ll be with his Mexican woman and his booze. It’s tomorrow I’m really going to need you.”

Guild smiled at him. “You’re not going to need me tonight?”

“Not after dinner. I’d appreciate it if you’d sit downstairs with me and help keep some of the reporters at bay.”

“Sure.”

“Then you can take off if you’d like.”

“Fine.”

He stared at Guild a moment. He was not the sort of man he could understand quickly. Stoddard never knew when he was going to irritate Guild; he never knew when Guild was going to take offense. He would be glad when it was all over, when Reynolds had done his job, and when he no longer needed men such as Guild for protection.

The streetcar rattled away now. He had been paying particular attention to a woman in a white picture hat. He still loved to look at women, even though the last three years he had suffered the embarrassing loss of his manliness when he’d actually been with them. He wondered what it was, disgust over his wife leaving him or just age, that slow creaking crawl to the grave he saw in so many men around him, closed off to all experience but making money. He felt tears in his throat as he looked out once again at the town. He wondered if this would be the sort of place he would die in-big and anonymous-and without even knowing its name.

He put the flocked curtain back in place and went over to where Guild played solitaire.

“I’ll be going downstairs now.”

“You all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?”

“You look sort of strange.”

“I didn’t hire you to be my goddamn priest.”

Guild sighed and turned over a red eight of hearts. “You can leave anytime, as far as I’m concerned.”

He had succeeded in pissing off Guild again. He almost felt good about it. He liked to see Guild upset and squirming.

It was always pleasant to walk into a taproom. He liked the smell of smoke and the hubbub of laughter and conversation. He liked the boozy heat of arguments about politics and sports. He liked the barmaids he tried to pick up for later and the bartenders he tried to intimidate with his self-confidence and his tips. It was fun to see them jump.

This taproom was fashioned after those in Chicago, everything done in stained oak, with brass fixtures along the bar and a huge mural of a naughty vaudeville lady named Ruby Lee stretching across the back wall. He had actually spent a night with Ruby Lee once. She’d had enormous breasts and equally enormous feet. He’d never seen feet that size on a woman.

Reynolds was at a rear table. He sat alone, a shot glass and a schooner sitting untouched in front of him. He was in his early thirties but older looking because he was balding. He was thin and wore a drab three-piece brown suit. He had small hands and nervous fingers. There was a certain air of sadness about him. He was one of the best thieves in the Midwest.

Stoddard sat down. When the waitress came over, he ordered a bourbon. When the waiter left, he said, “Are you all set for tomorrow?”

There was so much noise in the taproom that Stoddard did not have to worry about being overheard.

“There’s only one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“You sure Victor isn’t going to figure it out and come for me?”

“How’s he going to figure it out?”

“You think he’s going to believe it?”

Stoddard shrugged. “Robberies happen all the time. I’ll leave Guild in the back room guarding the cash. If Victor blames anybody, it will be Guild. He hates him.”

“He could still figure it out.”

“Not if we’re careful.”

David Reynolds looked around. “This Guild, is he tough?”

“Not as tough as he thinks.”

“He going to give me any problems?”

“Not if you do what I tell you.”

“Which is?”

“Shoot him.”

“What?”

“You want to make this look convincing, don’t you?”

“Jesus, Stoddard, I’m a thief, not a killer.”

“I didn’t say kill him.”

“Jesus.”

“In the arm, maybe. Or the shoulder.”

“I don’t know. I’ve never shot a man before.”

Stoddard smiled. “Then it’s probably the only thing you haven’t done before.” Stoddard tried to know things about everybody he worked with. “You’ve developed yourself quite a reputation. Even for a man in your line of work. You get in and out, and there’s supposed to be no trouble.”

“After this is all over, I have to live in this town.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning if there’s violence, the police are going to be looking for the thief double hard.”

Stoddard took out a cigar and lit it. The afternoon light was dying in the window. A pretty barmaid passed by just now. He did not want to be talking to this frightened little man.

“You might even enjoy it, Reynolds.”

“I doubt it.”

“Some men get accustomed to it.”

“I’m a thief,” he said again with a certain obstinate pride.

“I don’t want to have to worry about you. You’re getting a nice little nut for half an hour of work.”

“I don’t have any objections to the nut, Mr. Stoddard.”

“Good. Then you’ll do it?”

Reynolds smiled. “You’re a cold son of a bitch.”

“I just want to relax and have a quick drink here before I have to go back upstairs. And I can’t relax if I think you’re not going to do it right tomorrow.”

“Oh, I’m going to do it right.”

“You’re going to shoot him?”

Reynolds hesitated only a moment. “I’m going to shoot him.”

“Good, then. It’s settled.”

“You really are a cold son of a bitch, you know that?” Reynolds said. But his words were not without a certain harsh admiration.