Gang Pulp

A Long Chance By Bill Beyer

Racketeer Stories, June-July 1930

Her name was Take-It-Easy-Sal, and there wasn’t a twist or a rod in gangland who didn’t call her “Jonah” Sal! But this was one job she couldn’t muff! What is better protection than a snapshot, a long evening, and the U.S. Mail?

“And remember, Al, it’s a fifty-fifty split,” and the girl eyed the man opposite her at the little wooden table coldly.

“How come?” The man’s eyes shifted under her gaze. “If I pull the job alone, the haul don’t split that way, Sal.”

“Whatda you mean, it don’t?” The girl’s temper was roused. “If I out the lay and cinch it for you, I git half. If you’d tackled it alone without my info, where’d you be? I’m tryin’ to put you in on big business, right. And ain’t I gonna be hanging around in a car to help with the getaway? There’s gonna be five single grand notes at the place tomorrow and I want half of ’em. See!” Sal banged her fist down on the table with a vicious thud.

Shifty Al looked back at her with a sheepish grin. He could hold his own against a skirt’s temper, better than face that cold hard stare from her eyes. He looked her over slowly and critically. The emerald green dress she was wearing was a little shabby. But she had told him she had been against her luck lately. The dress didn’t matter anyway. Sal was about his speed — small, well-rounded, seductive. Devastating might have been the word used to describe her, but that word was not in Shifty’s vocabulary. He leaned closer to her across the table.

“Maybe, Sal, we won’t need to split. Whatda you say?”

The girl’s eyes were narrowed as she too leaned closer, but the eyes were smiling beneath the heavy lids. She cupped her chin in her hand as her face almost touched his. He could feel the warmth of it.

“Maybe, AI,” she spoke slowly and did not move her face away, “maybe that’ll be O.K. with me. But I just gotta be sure of the business details in case it ain’t. I haven’t worked with you before. This is your try-out.”

“Oh, this racket’s gonna come through O.K., baby. You trust me for that, and afterwards—”

“Afterwards you come straight down the drive to the gate and turn to the left on the same side of the street. I’ll be waitin’ with a car I’m gonna hire, about a block down.”

“That ain’t what I meant, Sal.”

“Well, that’s what I meant. I want to be sure you got the lay of the getaway straight. After that—” She left the rest of the idea to be carried by a flash of her dark eyes. AI could understand that as he wanted to.

She rose from the table, flung on her coat and started for the door. AI was beside her.

“I’m takin’ yuh home, baby.”

“Not till you pull the job, you ain’t.” And she walked on through the dismal room that was the main portion of the dive, and was out through the door, leaving him where he was standing.

Another twist passed Shifty Al. She stopped and looked him over.

“Ain’t gettin’ mixed up with Jonah Sal, are you?” she asked.

“I sure am.” Al was ready to defend his new partner. “What’s wrong with her?”

“Wrong? Say, kid, she’s always gettin’ a new pal and every damn job they tackle goes wrong. Can’t yuh see from her duds that she ain’t pulled a job since the new styles have been in. That’s some time to be without cash.”

“I don’t care about her rags, sister. She’s class just the same. And this is one job she’s not gonna be Jonah Sal on. It’s a great streak o’ luck she hitched up with me.”

By this time Sal was speeding away in a taxi. Farther uptown she stopped at a hotel and when she came out half an hour later to hail another taxi, she was dressed in a chic evening gown of iridescents. Just now it was covered with a fur coat in the latest mode. She looked about her guardedly, then gave an address to the chauffeur.

At 138th Street she alighted and hurried into one of the smaller negro cabarets on the block, the Silver Slipper. She glanced around the interior, then walked swiftly over to a table where a man was sitting. This man was apparently waiting for her.

“All set, Sal?” was his greeting.

“And how, Jim! We’ve got it cinched. In that dive in Bleecker Street, they’ve never heard of Take-It-Easy-Sal. I’m still the Jonah.”

“And you sure you picked a guy that works alone? I ain’t going to have you mixed up with no mob, kid, and have you bumped off. Everything’s fair, takin’ swag from a crook. But it ain’t safe it he’s got a push in back of him.”

“This bird I’ve landed, Jim, is just another o’ them dumb yeggs. Never could handle a big job unless somebody like me stepped in and helped him. So he ain’t missin’ nothin’ when you relieve him of it. He’s fell for me hard, too. Thinks I’m the goods.”

“And he ain’t wise to what he’s in for?”

“Say, Jim, I put it over great. Why, I could get a job on the stage if this racket fell through, I’m so good at it. I handed him a hot argument about a fifty-fifty split. He never thought for a minute I expected to get it all. Didn’t even tumble to the racket when I outlined the getaway for him. He just thought I was so crazy about him that I wanted to be sure he’d come through safe. But say, what did you want to meet me up here for instead of the usual hangout?”

“It’s gettin’ a little risky at Joe’s. Some of ’em know us a little too well and we don’t want to be seen together too much. It might queer the act and, what I’m thinkin’ of most, it might get you in trouble.”

“But why did you pick this dump?”

“Well, here it’s a cinch to spot the whites and give ’em the once over to see if they’re somebody we pulled the trick on before.”

“You got brains, Jim.”

“I just want to look after you, Sal, so you don’t get plugged with a hunk o’ lead. You know I’m keen about you.”

There was no need for Jim and Take-It-Easy-Sal to discuss further the job for the next night. It was set. Some dumb crook was lined up to take the chances and get the cash. All they had to do was to be ready to take the swag away from him as soon as he got it.

The two spent the rest of the evening dancing. When they left, they went in separate taxis. The next night they would have money and plenty of it.

Late the following night, Sal drove Shifty Al in her smart roadster to a Long Island suburb. A block from the Bernstein residence she brought the bus to a stop to allow Al to alight. He was to proceed on to the house, and she was to keep the car running at this safe distance for the getaway.

But Sal knew that somewhere between the Bernstein house and where she was waiting in the roadster, somewhere in the shrubbery, Jim was hidden. And before Shifty AI ever traversed that distance on his way back, he would be minus the swag.

She watched AI walk up the street and disappear. Then with the motor still running she leaned back in the seat to wait. But before long she was tensely at attention. A man passed and looked at her closely. He had not gone far when he turned and was coming back. When he was opposite her, he paused and lifted his hat. Oh, so that’s what he was. It was not so bad as she had first thought.

But she did not want this interfering man around anyway. Al would be coming out soon and there would be a slight display on the street. The strange man’s hat was back on his head and he had passed on.

Sal turned to see if he was moving away, but as soon as she had done it, she realized what a fool she had been. He was looking back, and he nodded again. He felt that he was getting some encouragement. He turned and approached her.

“Swell night for a ride, ain’t it?”

“Lay off that stuff,” and Sal’s eyes blazed at him. “And I guess you’d better beat it or I’ll get the police.”

But the man only leaned closer across the window of the car and spoke. “Lady, that’s O.K. with me, because I am the police.” He flapped open his coat to expose a shining badge.

Sal looked furtively down the road and back to the man beside her. It certainly looked as though she was going to live up to the name of Jonah Sal. Jim might pull the job at any minute, and this dick would see him when he came from the shrubbery for the attack.

“I’m waiting for a friend,” she told the man who was half leaning into the car, “so don’t you think you’d better be moving on?”

But she had not handed him the ice pitcher soon enough. Shifty Al had appeared. He was coming from the gate farther down the street. Jim was almost certain to be unaware of what was going on back at the roadster.

Jim let AI pass, then quietly pushed his way through the shrubs that boarded the sidewalk. He raised a black jack over Al’s head and Al sank to the ground with scarcely a sound at Jim’s feet. Then with deft fingers, the swag was lifted from the inside pocket of the prostrate man.

Sal had caught the beginning of the scene and suddenly adopted her most telling manner for the benefit of the strange man still on the job of picking her up. Anything to divert his attention. She was all charm and seduction. But it was too late.

The man had followed her eyes and was watching the by-play down the street. Quick and sure as Jim’s maneuvers had been, they were not quick enough. While he was still leaning over the prone body of Shifty, the dick was down the street and almost on him, gat out and leveled.

“Stick ’em up and don’t waste any time about it,” he yelled.

Back in the car Sal cursed her luck that there was no gat in her bag. She and Jim always travelled without them. It was safer, and they had no need for them when the job was fixed. It looked like Jim’s finish and not a chance for her to get him out of the mess. She saw the dick grab something from Jim’s hand. Gun still raised, he was looking it over. Five single grands there should be, and the dick had them. Had them! He was shoving them into his own pocket. He would have the cuffs on Jim in a minute.

No. Jim was turning and walking quietly in the opposite direction. So that was the game. The plainclothesman wanted to keep the coin himself instead of handing it over at Headquarters. Well, Sal wanted it too, and there was still a chance.

Jim was almost out of sight. He was safe anyway. The dick was coming back down the street. When he was alongside the car in which the girl sat, she took a glance at her watch, ignoring the fact that the man had stopped again. She made a pretense of releasing the emergency.

“Ain’t gonna leave, are you, girlie?” the dick asked her.

“Yeh. I guess this is one time I been stood up. My hard luck. But I’ve decided not to waste any more time waiting around.”

“Well, you don’t want to spend a lonely evening just because some dumb guy didn’t know enough to show up, do you?”

Sal’s momentary assumption of hauteur was decidedly chilling. Then she slowly looked over the man on the sidewalk, and flashed a smile.

“Well, get in, cutie, since you’re so persistent. I’ll drop you wherever you’re going. Where’s it to be?”

He did not answer the question.

“Might as well get acquainted, girlie. My name’s Benson, Oscar Benson.” He flung his arm over the back of the seat.

“Mine is Sally — Donovan.” And she decided she might as well get chummy. She snuggled into the arm that was held around her. “I kind of expected to spend a pleasant evening at one of the night clubs in the city. But I guess it’s off. Where you want me to drop you, cutie?”

“You ain’t gonna drop me. I’m the guy that’s gonna show you that pleasant evening.”

The girl looked at him through wide, smiling eyes.

“You know any night clubs, Ike?”

“Me! Say, girlie, I own ’em.” He flashed his badge again.

She laughed, and he took the opportunity of drawing his arm closer about her.

When they reached the city and were threading their way up the Broadway traffic, Benson directed her to steer into a side street in the Forties and draw up to the curb.

Out of the car, he ushered her into a doorway and up the stairs. His presence worked like magic on the hostess who greeted the two at the door. They were shown a table in a secluded corner, and a waiter hurried around with drinks.

Sal did not know what her method of procedure was to be. She had seen Benson plunge the five grand into an inside pocket when he had gotten hold of it back on the street. But a carefully worked out technic had convinced her never to attempt anything crude. You always got caught if you did. She had seen it work out that way too many times.

A waiter came to take the order.

“Anything you want, kid, it’s on the house,” said Benson.

“Generous, aren’t you, Ike?”

Sal ordered light on the food, but suggested that a bottle of something might cheer her up. They both drank and were cheered. Subsequently they ordered more.

Sal waited as patiently as she could for the drinks to show effect. She became rather discouraged when she saw that it was going to take a good many before Benson slopped over. Drinks were free for him, and he had accustomed himself to plenty of them. She was feeling just a trifle unsteady herself.

But she was going to get the coin in the dick’s inside pocket. That steadied her. He was getting mushy and confidential. And above all she found that he liked to talk about himself. That she could work on, if only she didn’t get too dizzy.

Benson was around on her side of the table by this time. He was even showing pictures of himself. He must be fairly well lit to get as friendly as all that, unless he was just naturally a bore. Sal patiently looked at snapshots of him in and out of uniform, when he had been just a flat-foot, and pictures cut from the tabloids showing him with famous criminals. Sal was not getting very far, and the supply of photos in Benson’s wallet seemed endless.

“And here’s one,” he leaned closer over her shoulder, “here’s one of the boy himself at the beach.”

“Say, kid, that’s great.” Sal looked at it a long time admiringly. “You wasn’t on the force then, was you?”

“Sure. That was just on a vacation.”

“Well, Ike, I’d swear you was holdin’ down a job as one o’ them swell life-savers when this picture was taken.” Sal held it up again, and gazed at it long, with gleaming eyes. Benson was smiling a pleased, self-conscious smile.

A half-drunken giggle from Sal. Then she turned to her companion with a serious expression on her face.

“You wouldn’t let me keep this picture, would you, Ike?”

“Why, sure. Keep it if you want to,” and he made a big-hearted gesture.

“Thanks a lot, kid. I know a girl friend that knows a life-saver down at Asbury. A little wizened-up guy, too. When I show her this it’ll knock her cold.”

Sal’s flattery was working. Benson was leaning back, his thumbs pompously placed in his upper vest pockets. Sal laughed another silly laugh and then seemed to get a brilliant idea.

“Say, Ike, I can’t wait. What you say I mail the snapshot to the girl friend right now. I can tell her I’m out dining with the picture himself in person.”

Benson seemed to think it was a great idea, too. He called over the waiter and instructed him to bring an envelope and the other necessary equipment. When it was before them a few moments later, Benson leaned back to laugh again. Sal slipped the snapshot in the envelope and began to address it.

Benson was apparently feeling happy as he tilted back in his chair, waiting till Sal should finish. Sal felt that his attitude was most fortunate for her. He was not watching what she scrawled on the letter. In a moment she passed it over to the waiter to mail.

“And mail it right away,” ordered Benson, authoritatively. “Then bring us another round of drinks.”

“Thanks so much for your assistance,” said Sal. There was a smile of sardonic pleasure on her lips, but she was certain that the dick failed to read its meaning.

With another round of drinks Benson’s amorous attentions increased. But Sal’s attitude had undergone a sudden change. She could not even trouble herself to be coldly polite.

“I’m leaving now.” she said, as she rose abruptly from the table.

“Sure, we’re both going.” There was a fatuous grin on the detective’s face. “You just come along with me,” he continued in a confidential whisper. “I’ll take care of you. And listen! That ain’t all.” It was impossible to let this opportunity to boast slip by. “I got cash with me, girlie, and lots of it.”

He was reaching into an inside pocket.

“Never mind, Ike, I—” the girl began hurriedly.

But it was too late. Benson had drawn out his hand and there was a blank expression on his face. Sal scarcely glanced at him. She started to reel drunkenly in the direction of the exit. But Benson had suddenly grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around.

“Where’s the money that was in my pocket?” he demanded.

“What money, Ike?” She looked at him with wide eyes.

“That dough I got from the crook? It didn’t take me long to get it, and send the yegg on his way. I guess you saw the scene all right!”

Sal started on again, down between the row of tables.

“You stay right here where you are.” His firm grip stopped her progress.

“Now let’s see. That crook had got hold of five thousand.” Benson was thinking it out slowly. “And you was waitin’ on the corner for somebody that didn’t show up. No guy would throw you over if there wasn’t some reason. I guess maybe the kid you was waitin’ for was the one I sent on his way.” He looked narrowly at the girl.

“I guess,” he continued, “I’ll just be takin’ you over to the night court instead of seein’ you home.”

Sal was suddenly more sober. She faced the dick with a smile that was very like a sneer.

“What you goin’ to tell the judge at the night court, Ike?”

“Well... I—” and Benson began to flounder. What was he going to tell the judge?

Sal helped him out.

“You’re goin’ to tell him that you caught a crook with the goods. And his next annoying question might be. ‘Where is the goods?’ Then what do you suppose you’ll say?”

“Well, I... can—” Benson started again.

“Yeh, that’s just about what you’ll say, and some judges can be pretty funny. He might inquire as to when you developed defective speech.”

“Aw, shut up,” growled Benson, struck with a sudden idea. “I’m goin’ to show him the goods.”

“Hadn’t you better make certain of that?”

“I sure will. Right now.”

But a search of Sal’s clothing revealed nothing. He seemed to grow more drunkenly furious at the way he had been trapped. He made a more thorough search, and all but tore the clothing from the girl’s back. The only outcome was that he had to be convinced that the swag was not on Sal.

“All right,” he said, and he reeled drunkenly in his rage. “I’ll take you without it.” He grabbed her arm and began to march her towards the door. “I’ll fix up some story. The real crook got away. But you were his accomplice, waiting in a car to make good his getaway.”

Sal looked at him quietly as she walked along.

“That’s fine. You got a swell set o’ brains, Ike. Of course, you kinda forgot that I’ll be allowed to bring in witnesses. I don’t think your story will look quite so good when I bring in the waiter there to prove that you been dining and wining with the lady accomplice for the last two hours. The judge might make some funny remarks. And when you stagger quite as much as you’re doin’ now, Ike, he might even suggest that you leave your nice shiny badge at Headquarters. So let’s go ahead and see the judge. I’m curious to know if my guess isn’t about right.”

Benson halted suddenly, and his hold on the girl relaxed.

“Think you’re a clever twist, don’t you, puttin’ it over on a plainclothesman.”

Sal shook her head decidedly in the negative.

“Say, you don’t give me a chance to show how bright I really am. All dicks are so damn dumb.”

“Yell? Is that so?”

“Sure, it’s so,” laughed the girl. “If you weren’t so weak on the head-work, you’d have thought of looking around where I was sittin’ with you, when you didn’t find the swag on me.”

Sal saw that she had headed him the right way. Benson made a dive back for the table they had recently left. While he sprawled there on the floor, rummaging about. Take-It-Easy-Sal slipped out of the door and made her getaway without being followed.

Back at the hotel she expected to find Jim. But it was not till the next morning that he showed up.

“Well, we sure ran into hard luck that time, Sal,” he said. “If that guy hadn’t happened to be a crooked dick, I sure would have done a stretch. I didn’t come around last night because I figured the dick might be wise that you was waitin’ for me, and follow you, only to find me here. Then you’d have been in the mess to.”

“Well, that wasn’t quite the game. I followed the dick instead. And, Jim, the swag is ours.”

Jim only stared at her. Then, “You got it here, now?”

“Not quite yet, Jim, but Uncle Sam is bringing it to me just as fast as he can.”

She glided quickly over to the telephone and picked it up.

“Hello. This the hotel desk? Will you send one of the bell-boys up with the mail? O.K.”

While they waited, Sal leaned back on the divan, lit a cigarette and recounted to her partner the events of the previous night. A few minutes later a letter was handed in at the door. Sal glanced casually down at the handwriting, saw that it was her own, and passed the envelope over to Jim.

“And the coin is in here?” he said with a pleased smile.

“Together with a picture of my latest boy friend,” added the girl as she sank down on the divan again.

“Well, we can sure use the cash, Sal, but what the hell do you want to do with the photograph?”

“I don’t know, Jim,” said Sal, as she watched the blue smoke coiling to the ceiling. “Frame it, maybe.”

“You already have, baby.”

Jim’s laugh was suddenly cut short by a sharp voice from the other end of the room.

“Stick ’em up, and be quick about it.”

Jim whirled to the sound. Sal sprang like a tigress from the couch on which she had been reclining. The door had opened quietly and the open space framed Ike Benson.

Quietly he came into the room, a thirty-eight held steadily in front of him. Behind him came a man in uniform. Benson passed the automatic carefully to the copper.

“Keep ’em covered, Reilly,” he instructed, as he approached the man and woman across the room.

From Jim’s raised hand he snatched the long envelope, and was about to tear it open when something happened. The girl, regardless of the gat that was leveled in her direction, leaped suddenly forward and grabbed the letter. Immediately she flung her arms above her head again, but there was a sneer of enjoyment on her lips.

“I’ve still got you beaten, Ike,” she said in a hard voice. “This is my mail, and I guess you ain’t got no right to open it! Now if you still feel that you want to take me down to court, O.K. with me. But this letter gets there unopened.”

“O.K. with me, too,” said Benson, quietly, as he drew a gat from Jim’s shoulder holster and snapped a bracelet over his wrist.

“You better hold off on the cuffs a minute, Ike,” said the girl, “till you hear what I have to say. I told you if Jim and me go, we go with the letter unopened. But I’ve a hunch that we’re not going, because I don’t think you’d care much about listenin’ to the judge’s loud laugh when he opens the envelope and finds — what? See the point, cutie? A picture of one of our best plainclothesmen in a bathing suit in the same envelope with the stolen money. And the judge might not be so keen about the photo as you had an idea little Sal was last night.”

“Headquarters knows all about that little play,” said Benson, and there was a broad grin on his lips. “And I don’t mind tellin’ you that I got hell for it, too. The chief said something kind o’ sarcastic about a bird in the hand. But I took a long chance. I knew right away when I caught this bird with the dough” — indicating Jim — “that you were in on it, too, lady. I knew then who you were waitin’ for in the roadster. And I guess the chief will change his tune when I walk in with the haul this morning.”

Benson reached up and carelessly snapped the other bracelet around the girl’s wrist.

“And you said something last night, lady,” continued the detective, “that just about fits this case. Maybe I don’t remember your exact words, but what I mean is. ‘All crooks are so damn dumb.’ ”