Manhunt. Volume 6, Number 4, June, 1958

“Give me a break” by Norman Struber

Some punks expect miracles. I catch him crossing me, and he expects me to listen when he pleads...

“Cops!” Punchy yelled.

I slammed my hand on the keys and the cash register drawer shot open with a clang. A searchlight flashed in my eyes from the front window of the store, and I yanked the bills out of the compartments fast as I could and ducked under the counter. The old guy laying there let out a moan and I bashed the heel of my .38 against his skull, four, maybe five times, fast.

“Out the back way!” I yelled, and scooted along behind the counter to the little room in back, tripping over Punchy’s heels and falling flat on my face. I scrambled to my feet and gave him a hard shove as a gun exploded out front and liquor bottles crashed and splattered on the shelves over my head. “Move, you dumb jerk!” I screamed at him. “The door!”

Right at that moment I realized more than ever it pays to case a joint before you move in. We got out into the backyard, over to the fence and climbed to the roof of a low, flat-topped brick garage. The string of garages ran clear to the next street and we tore along the roofs, and at the last one we swung over the side and hung by our hands and then dropped to the ground. Just the way I’d figured it. We ran two blocks and ducked into an alley that led onto Fulton Street. It was early yet and most of the stores were open and we eased out of the alley and started walking along slow with the rest of the shoppers. Cool. Like two innocent guys out for a stroll.

Punchy started flicking his head around, nervous-like, and I shoved my elbow into his ribs. “Relax, jerk!” I told him. “Just walk.”

Ten minutes later we were in that crumby basement, where Punchy lived with his old lady and six brats upstairs. The old man left nothing but dirty laundry when he kicked off, so the old lady worked while Punchy’s aunt watched the brats. His name was really Poncho, Poncho Santos, but him being a pretty stupid guy it wasn’t long before the guys got around to calling him Punchy. It was kind of a natural switch, and he was dumb enough not to care. Me and him got along swell. I told him what to do and he did it. I found out that’s the only kind of a guy you can really trust. The smart ones, the wise guys, you never know when they’re going to pull a fast one. They give you the slick smile and they act like they dig you as top man, and all the time they’re just waiting to slip that knife in your back. Like Manny Kojak.

Yeah. Like Manny.

We went back by the furnace and Punchy pulled the chain on the dirty yellow light. “Jeez!” he said, staring at me with those big black eyes, “I figure we gon get hung up good that time, Rick.”

“Yeah, you clumsy jerk.”

“Jeeze, Rick...”

“Next time I say move, man, you really move! See?”

“But, Rick, there was tha’ chair an’...”

“Shut up!” I started taking the crumpled bills out of my pockets, straightening them out and tallying the take.

Punchy’s eyes lighted up as he watched me. He was a short weasel-like guy with pocky dark skin and thick curly black hair. He came from the Islands seven years ago with his folks. That time there was only four of them. After they moved the old man must’ve got inspiration or something. Punchy figured he was seventeen maybe. Same as me. But not in the head.

“Hey, Rick!” he kept saying over and over, watching me count. “Hey, Rick! Tha’s something...”

“Shut up!... two-ninety... five... three twenty... thirty...”

“What the loot, Rick?”

There was three-hundred-and-forty-two bucks even. I folded the bills into one big wad and stuffed it deep in my pocket. “Enough,” I said.

“Jeez, Rick, we got enough to ride in fancy train, maybe, huh? We gon get lost in style, huh?”

“We don’t travel on no trains, jerk.”

“You wan me to get car?”

“Later.”

Punchy’s face screwed up in a disappointed frown. “Rick, we gon cut out like you say, ain’t we? Me and you gon leave this lousy town an’...”

“We got something to do first.”

“Jeez, we better not kill no time, Rick. I see what you done to that old man in the store. Them cops is gon...”

“That jerk seen our faces and knew who we were. But he ain’t going to see nothing no more.”

“Sure, Rick, but we better...”

“I told you we got something to do first, jerk!”

Punchy spread his palms and gave me that dumb look. “What, Rick? What we gotta do first?”

“Manny,” I told him. “We got to take care of Manny.”

“Manny?” The moron really couldn’t figure it. “Manny...?”

“You were talking to him today, weren’t you?” I said tightly.

“Yeah, Rick, but...”

“What’d you tell him?”

“Me?... tell him, Rick...?”

“You told him about our set-up, didn’t you?”

“Jeez, Rick, he ask me what I look so happy about, an...”

“And you told him.”

“Well, I only tell him me an you gon cut out for good, tha’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?”

“Well... well, he ask what we gon use for dough, and...”

“Oh, you dumb, stupid, jerk!”

“I... I don see what was so wrong, Rick. I...”

“You don’t, huh?”

His jaw hung open and he kept staring at me with that stupid expression again. It took a long time for his jaw to come up to where he could use it to talk with. “Jeez... ho-ly Jeez, Rick, you... you don mean Manny went an...?”

“How else did the cops get there so quick, jerk? The old man was just starting to close up. He didn’t set the alarm.”

He nodded slowly, like it was starting to sink into that thick skull of his. “Yeah... yeah... I... I din hear no alarm.”

“No, we didn’t hear it, but the cops did. Manny was the alarm.”

He stuck his hands in his pocket and swallowed, and his eyes dropped to my feet. “Manny!... madre dio!... I sure din think he...”

“You don’t think... period.”

He looked up. “But... but why, Rick? Why he wan do that to us.”

“Not us, lunkhead. Me.”

His eyes narrowed, and he was trying to think hard. “ ’Cause... ’cause you knock over his girl, Rick?”

She was a dish, all right, that Lola. Manny’s girl. She didn’t want no part of me... but I mean no part. She got it, anyhow. I waited for her in the hall where she lives one night. She wasn’t willing, but that didn’t matter. Who the hell did she think she was? Park Avenue? But I didn’t really give a damn for her, you understand. It was Manny I wanted to show. I wanted him to know he didn’t have anything I couldn’t have, anytime I wanted. Let him know who the better man was. Like Punchy knew.

I nodded to Punchy. “He figured he’d even it up by calling the cops on me. But he didn’t even up nothing. Nothing. There’s a whole new score to settle.”

Punchy looked scared. “Why... why don we just cut out, Rick? Hell, we got the money an...”

“Shut up! I want you to get your kid brother, Angel, to get the word to Manny. The cops picked me up, see? But you got away. You got plenty of loot, but you’re scared. Plenty scared and you don’t know what to do.” I looked at him. “You following me, man?”

His jaw was hanging again, but he nodded.

“All right. Angel tells Manny you want to see him down here. You’re willing to cut him in for half of the loot, if he helps you duck the cops. You want to cut out. Clear, out, see?”

He gave me a sidelong glance. “How... how much, Rick? How much loot did I get?”

“Never mind. He don’t have to know that.” I pulled the wad of bills out of my pocket and peeled off a twenty. “Here,” I said. “Tell Angel to give that to Manny. That ought to make the bastard good and hungry.”

Punchy took the twenty and turned it over in his fingers, grinning. “Madre!... madre dio!...”

“Move, jerk! Move!”

“Sure... sure, Rick.” Punchy turned and scooted.

I doused the light and stuck my hand in my pocket and clenched the walnut grip of that ‘piece’. Man, it felt good. Damn good. Like you was king of the world. Nobody argued with you when you owned a ‘piece’. Nobody wanted to get burned. Anybody who crossed you was a jerk.

Manny was a jerk.

Punchy was back in ten minutes. Manny was on his way. I told Punchy what to do and we waited. We heard the foot steps coming down to the basement a few minutes later. They stopped by the door in the darkness. It was quiet for a minute.

“Punchy?” It was Manny.

I nudged Punchy. “That... that you, Manny?” he said.

“Yeah.”

I yanked the light on and ducked behind the furnace. Punchy waited under the light. Manny came back there and I watched him. Oh, that lousy sharped-up jerk! Strutting like he was a big politician or something. He was wearing his pants all pressed up, and suede shoes and a new suede jacket, and his blonde hair was plastered down to his head. All dressed up like he was celebrating because he figured I got canned.

Manny came over to Punchy, and he was grinning. “Man, you look scared,” he said. He got down to business fast. “How much did you get?”

“P... plenty,” Punchy started, “I... I...”

That’s when I stepped out behind Manny, the .38 in my fist. “Hello, pal,” I said.

You never saw anything spin around so fast. “Wha...?” he choked. His eyes damn near popped out of his head when he saw me. Such pretty blue eyes, too. Only they were all full of white flecks.

“Who looks scared now, pal?” I said.

His jaw dropped open and he looked a little like Punchy. “R... Rick...”

“Surprised, pal?” Man, was I grinning!

“Yeah... I... I mean, no. No, Rick, I...”

“Oh, sure. You’re surprised, pal. You’re real surprised, ain’t you?”

“Look, Rick...”

“You figured I was out of circulation, didn’t you, pal?”

“No... no, Rick...”

“Sure you did, pal. You’re smart... oh, the shrewdest, man. You called the cops, and you figured you took care of little ole Rick, didn’t you?”

He swallowed hard and his Adam’s apple bobbed like it was going to bust clear out of his throat. He was a tall, thin, good-looking guy, but his face was all white and twitching now, and you could practically hear them knees knocking. He tried to talk smooth. “Give... give me a break, Rick. I... I didn’t know what I was doing. I swear, I...”

“Shut up, jerk!”

“I... I’ll do anything for you, Rick. You... you want Lola?... you want her, Rick? Okay... okay, she’s yours... I... I’ll fix it up... sure... sure... anything, Rick, boy... any...”

“You can drop dead! Both of you!”

He stared at the gun as it tightened in my hand. “No... no... no, Rick... you... you wouldn’t... you...”

“I wouldn’t, huh?”

“Give me a break, Rick... please... please... give me a break...”

“Rot in hell, you jerk!” I squeezed the trigger and it sounded like a cannon going off down there. My arm jerked back and the shock went clear up to my skull, and Manny, he got a shock, too. Right in the belly. The slug spun him half around and up against the concrete wall, and he hung there for a moment clutching his gut. He screamed and I pumped the trigger once more, and he bounced into that wall again, and then he sagged to the floor like an old sack of flour, part of him still sticking to the wall.

Punchy was standing there holding his hands over his ears, and I grabbed him by the front of the jacket and gave him a shove toward the door. “Let’s go!” I yelled.

“Wait, Rick!” He ran back to Manny, went through his pockets and came up with the twenty and four singles, and a set of car keys. I was so excited for the minute I hadn’t figured that Manny’s Chewy would be outside. I grabbed the money and the keys out of Punchy’s hand, and we took off.

Punchy didn’t say nothing until we were clear up in Westchester. He had his eyes glued to the gas gauge, then. “We gon need gas pretty soon, Rick.”

“We ain’t stopping in no gas stations just yet,” I told him. I started cruising slow through them fancy streets up there, and then I spotted a convertible. A Buick, real sharp. The top was down and it was parked in the shadows of some trees, and the house was way back off the road. I pulled up alongside of it and told Punchy to go get it. Like I said, he was stupid, but when it came to cars Punchy was in the top class. He got it started in no time, and I signaled for him to follow me.

I found a good spot to ditch the Chewy, and then I hopped into the Buick with Punchy. While we were stopped we got the top up and I took the wheel. I sure wanted to use the Thruway because you could really make time, but there was too big a chance of getting spotted at the toll booths. I stuck to the old highways and headed North, pushing eighty where I could. I kept my eyes peeled for slow-down signs and was careful not to speed through no towns. By the time we had to stop for gas I was pooped, so I let Punchy take the wheel. I got a map at the gas station and told Punchy what roads to take. All I wanted was to get lost for a few days, and the Adirondacks was going to do fine.

After awhile, watching the road and with that steady smooth drone of the engine, I just let my eyes close and pretty soon I dropped off, and then I didn’t hear nothing. All I kept dreaming about was that dough in my pocket, and how I was going to get some fancy clothes and move in on some town where I could really make out. Maybe the West coast. Yeah. I’d heard a lot about California... Frisco... L.A.... yeah, L.A... that was a town, all right... L.A... get rid of the jerk... dead weight... Poncho... Punchy... Punchy Poncho... jerk...

Something hard banged against my cheek, and I opened my eyes and saw that my head was smacking up against the window sill. It was still dark and the car was bouncing around like there was no road under it. I blinked my eyes sleepily and glanced out the window. There wasn’t any road. Just a big open field with no houses around, and I could see dark mountains outlined against the moonlit sky. I straightened up suddenly and looked at Punchy behind the wheel. “What the hell are you doing, jerk?” I yelled.

Punchy stopped the car and pulled the hand break. It was then I noticed the car lights weren’t on. He looked over at me and grinned, his white teeth flashing in the moonlight.

“You crazy bum!” I said. “Why in hell did you get off the road?”

He shrugged, and kept grinning. “End of the ride, Rick.”

I stared at him. “Huh?”

He shrugged again. “I don need you no more, Rick. Just like you don need me.” He spread his right hand and jabbed it out at me. “Gimmee the loot, Rick.”

“Give you the...? You lousy, stupid...!” I jerked my hand up to my jacket pocket and clutched for the gun.

I got a handful of leather.

I froze, gaped at him.

“You looking for this, eh, Rick?” His left hand came over the steering wheel, the gun muzzle in front of it. “You sleep like my brother, Angel. You don feel nothing.”

My throat went dry. “Wha... what’d you want to do a thing like that for, Poncho?”

He laughed, a cold, bitter laugh. “Poncho, eh? Now I am Poncho. Why you don call me by my right name, Rick?”

“That... that’s your right name, Poncho.” I tried to smile.

“Sure. Sure it was. ’Till you start to call me Punchy.”

“No... no, not me, Poncho... it was the other guys. You know that. You...”

The grin dropped from his face and a crazy look lighted his eyes. “No! You, Rick! You gimmee that name! Punchy, you call me! All the time you call me jerk!”

“Honest, Pun... Poncho, I...”

“Shut up, jerk!” His eyes glared at me. “How does it sound, jerk? Eh, jerk? Eh, dumb, stupid, jerk? Jerk... jerk... jerk... JERK!”

I bit down on my lip. “Yeah... yeah, sure Poncho... I... I’m a jerk... I...”

“I wan the loot, jerk!”

I yanked the wad out of my pocket and handed it to him, fast, and right then I was thinking about Manny, and how he was shaking all over just before I blasted him. And I was shaking like that now, and I felt the tears coming to my eyes, and I knew how Manny felt. “I... I was going to split it with you, Poncho,” I said weakly.

“You’re a liar, jerk!”

“No, Poncho, I... I mean it, pal... I swear...”

“Why you bawling, jerk? Manny din bawl.”

I stared at that gun and I begged for all I was worth. “Please... please, Poncho... gi... give me a break... huh?... please...”

“Si. Like you gave Manny. Tha’s the best way, eh, jerk?”

“Aw... aw... please... please... just give me a break... just... just give me one little...”

His eyes squeezed narrow, and his lips pulled taut, and his finger tightened over the trigger... and then all I could see was the big black hole of that gun muzzle reaching out for me...

The rotten, cold-hearted bum wasn’t even going to give me a break!!