The rat on fire

17

Wilfrid Mack went to visit Jerry Fein without calling ahead for an appointment. Jerry Fein’s secretary was Lois Reynolds, a plumpish lady with strawberry hair who had returned to work in her fifties after the children left home, in order to help her husband buy a Winnebago. She was on the phone about the Winnebago when Wilfrid entered the office.

“I don’t care about that, Philip,” she said. “You told me that last week and I told you then that I didn’t care about it, and I still don’t. You told me you had this nice clean Winnebago Brave coming in that was only one owner and we could have it for fifty-seven hundred dollars. Now you are telling me that it didn’t come in, and I just don’t believe you.

“You’re just telling me that now,” Lois said. “Last week you didn’t think you’d be able to sell it. Then somebody came in and looked it over and you sold it to them for more money, and so now you’re telling me that it never came in.

“Now look, Philip,” she said, “I’ve been working three years now again, so Harold can get his Winnebago and we can go down to the Cape and go out all the way to Province-town and he can fish his butt off and we won’t get our butt taken off paying for motel rooms, and you told me that we had it. Next week is Harold’s birthday and he is a hardworking fellow that never bought anything for himself and now, by Jesus, it is Harold’s turn. You hear me, Philip? It is Harold’s turn. He has paid for the bikes and he has paid for the house and he has paid for the schooling and everything else, and he even bought me a fur coat and a watch. Now it is Harold who gets the first bite out of the apple.

“You promised me that bite, Philip,” she said. “You absolutely promised me that you had the Winnebago coming in and it was nice and clean and in good shape and everything, and you had damned right well better get that Winnebago in, or I will use a little influence that I happen to have with this lawyer that I happen to work for, and I will sue your lying ass from here to Buffalo and back.” She paused.

“Right now, Philip, I don’t know. But Mister Fein is a very smart man and he will think of something that will drive you absolutely nuts, if you let me down like this. He will dribble you up and down the court like you were a basketball. He will make you wish that you had never been born.” She paused again. She nodded. “That’s better, Philip,” she said. “That is very much better. Yes. Thank you. I certainly will. I will call you tomorrow. Yes. That will be fine.”

Lois Reynolds hung up and looked inquiringly at Wilfrid Mack. “You’re dressed pretty good,” she said, “but I don’t recognise you. Least, I don’t think I do. You dance or something?”

“In a way,” Wilfrid said, “I dance all the time. In another way, I don’t dance at all. But I’ve got a great natural sense of rhythm. Jerry Fein in?”

“He expecting you?” she said.

“Nope,” Wilfrid said. “I knew him a long time ago and I was in the neighbourhood and just thought I’d drop in on the off-chance I could see him.”

“You’re a lousy gambler,” she said.

“You’re in a lousy mood,” he said.

“This is true,” she said. “And it is probably not your fault. So, I apologise. What’s your name?”

“Mack,” he said, “Wilfrid Mack.”

“What do you want?” she said. “No offence meant.”

“None taken,” he said. “I’m a State Senator and some of my voters live in some buildings he owns, and I thought it might be helpful if I saw him and talked to him about the conditions in those buildings, and maybe he could do something about them.”

“Bristol Road,” she said.

“As a matter of fact,” he said, “yes.”

She nodded. “Good,” she said. “You ever see one of those moon rockets take off? You ever see the flame come out of the tail and all that? You didn’t, and you mention Bristol Road to that guy in there, you are going to. You want to do it?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, “take a seat under Milton Berle, there. He’s got somebody with him. When that guy comes out, you can go in, and then I am going to get under the desk, and I will wait there until one of you comes out. Because it is for damned sure both of you will not come out, not with what you’re planning to say to him.”

Mack sat down on the blue plastic chair next to the picture of Milton Berle on the wall. “He’s a little grouchy about those apartments, is he?” he said.

“You could say that,” she said. “You could even say that he is kind of teed off about those apartments. You could say that he thinks it was probably the worst day in his life, when he decided to buy those apartments. I mean, this man is angry, you know? He is just about beside himself. He is liable to strangle you, you go in there and start telling him anywhere near like what you just been telling me. Try to strangle you. You’re bigger’n he is. But he’s so mad, he probably’ll try anyways.”

“What kind of guy is he?” Mack said. “I met him once or twice, but I don’t know him real well.”

“Well,” she said, “let me think. He is the type of guy who will get desperate, you know? I worked for him, let’s see, about twenty-three years ago, and then I went and had babies and I brought the kids up and Harold worked down at the Navy yard and supported us all, and then I came back. And, Jerry didn’t change in all that time. He is still the same kind of guy, that will work all day and part of the weekend and will not complain about it. But those apartment buildings drive him crazy.”

“Why?” Mack said.

“Because he can’t get any rent,” she said. “There’s about three of his tenants, and he’s got nine, that pay him any rent. And the city keeps coming after him. ‘You got to do this. You can’t do that. You better do the other things or we come after you and this and that.’ He doesn’t like it. He really doesn’t like it at all.”

“There’s rats in those buildings,” Mack said.

“Sure there are,” she said. “There’s rats in most buildings, I know about. There’re rats in this building. There’re rats where I live. The rats’re taking over, mister, in case you didn’t hear. They’ve got us outnumbered. They breed fast-er’n we do. They’ve been around longer and they’re not so choosy about what they eat.”

Mack began to laugh.

“You can laugh if you want to,” she said, “but I mean it. I know from rats. If you can laugh, you don’t.”

Mack stopped laughing.

“You know something?” she said. “You want to know something? There is nothing that Jerry Fein or any other mortal man can do about rats. If that’s what you’re here for, Senator, you are wasting your time.”

“Who’s with him?” Mack said.

“None of your business,” Lois said. “This is a law office, even if it does have a picture of Milton Berle up. I’m not allowed to say.”