Kill the Boss Goodbye Read online

  Kill the Boss Goodbye

  Peter Rabe

  * * *

  Kill the Boss Goodbye

  Peter Rabe

  This page formatted 2007 Blackmask Online.

  http://www.blackmask.com

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  * * *

  Chapter One

  For a town of three hundred thousand, San Pietro looked very dead, but it was noon and it was out of season. The race track was open two months of the year and the rest of the time the town just baked in the sun and spread into the prairie. San Pietro had wide streets and big lots, for there was plenty of room. The plane factories reached into the open along the rim of the town because land was even cheaper there, with more of it.

  There was a traffic light at the main intersection, making useless blinks from one color to the next and then all over again. A car with a backfire came down the street and crossed against the light just when the cop came out of a beer parlor nearby. He went to the curb to look at the driver and when he recognized him the cop waved and watched the car pass. Then the cop lit a cigar and walked down the street, keeping under the store awnings.

  The light kept changing monotonously. Once, when the color happened to turn from amber to green, four cars in a row came through driving low on their springs with the load of the men inside. The cars headed straight down the main drag, out to the edge of town, and one by one they came to a smooth stop at the big motel that was built like the Alamo. There were no other cars parked in sight and the four that pulled up made an unusual picture. It was different during the season. When the track was open they came from all over the state, cramming the town, because Tumbleweed Park was an exceptional track, and famous.

  Thirteen men got out of the cars, stretched their legs, and filed through the door of the coffee shop. The place was empty except for Pearl, who said “Hi” when they came in, and Phido, who didn't say anything because he had the coffee cup to his mouth. He looked over the rim. Then he swallowed wrong, coughed, and slopped coffee where his cup missed the saucer.

  The men hadn't answered Pearl. They went straight through the kitchen in back, to the corridor, because that was the shortest way to get where they wanted to go. When the door in back had swung shut after the last of them Pearl turned back to the counter and said, “What kinda business? You know them?”

  “Do I know them!” said Phido, but he said it more to himself.

  Being big and awkward he bumped the counter hard when he got up and Pearl made a comment about it, but Phido didn't hear any more. He went through the kitchen, opened the door to the corridor, but didn't go any further. He could see it from where he was.

  He could see the room with the telephones, the blackboard where the odds were posted, and it could have been the quotation room of a broker's office except for Phido's buddies against the wall, the police captain, and the sheriff who had come along just for good measure. The sheriff backhanded one of the men by the wall and one of the others got sapped. While everybody left, the sheriff put a seal across the door lock and then he left too. They hadn't bothered Phido. They nodded at him because they knew him, but since he hadn't tried stopping them they had left him alone.

  When they all got into the cars Phido ran to the coffee shop window, looking puzzled and anxious. Pearl came up too, not knowing what to think.

  “A raid, Phido? How come they raided—”

  “I don't get it,” said Phido, saying it several times over till Pearl interrupted him.

  “Better do something, Phido. Call Mr. Fell. Better tell him they got one of his places!”

  Phido started cursing and turned away from the window. “Call Fell! How'm I gonna call him? If Fell was around you think this coulda happened?”

  He went to the wall phone with a dime borrowed out of Pearl's uniform pocket, where she kept her tips. He called a tobacco store back in town with gold lettering on the window that said,Cigars, Tobacco—Thomas Fell, Prop.

  This was the only place Thomas Fell owned that had his name on the door. He also owned the San Pietro Realty Company, the Tumbleweed Concessions Company, the Blue Star Taxi Cab Company, and Accounting, Incorporated, Accountants and Appraisers. He owned a big part of the race track and ran all of it. According to public knowledge he ran several other things, including City Hall.

  The man who answered the phone didn't know whether Fell was back.

  “I'm calling from the motel,” said Phido. “I just saw...”

  “Why, all of a sudden, call here? He never shows up here any time.”

  “I know,” said Phido. “I just thought....”

  “Just because you work out of this place, what makes you think he'd check in here first, after he's gone for over a month?”

  “I wasn't thinking,” said Phido.

  “What makes you think he's back, anyway?”

  “I'm just asking,” said Phido, getting excited. “There's been a raid! Just now! They—”

  “Raid! Are you nuts?”

  “No, I ain't nuts! But somebody ought to get this to Fell. They took Mort and Jimmy and—”

  “The cops?”

  “Who else?”

  “They must be nuts!”

  “If Fell was here—”

  The man in the tobacco store hung up, waited a second, and dialed a number. San Pietro Realty answered and a man called Hecht came to the phone.

  “Raid? I haven't got enough troubles without—How should I know where he is? When Fell shows up I got enough troubles waiting for him without—All right, all right!”

  Hecht hung up and called Tumbleweed Concessions. The top man there wasn't in, and besides, with Fell gone hell knows where for over a month, they had enough of a mess on their hands.

  “If you don't thinkI'm nervous,” yelled Hecht. “Get off the phone! We got to get this thing cleared up!”

  They called Blue Star Taxi to see if Pander were there, because Pander was running the show while Fell was away. But Fell's lieutenant wasn't there, nor could they find him at Accounting, Incorporated. The man there was almost as big as Pander and he checked all over town trying to find Fell's right-hand man. He couldn't find even any of Pander's cronies. The man sweated and rubbed his ear nervously. He wished Fell were around, he wished somebody knew where Fell was, but the best he could hope for was finding Pander. He finally got a lead when he reached Pander's girl friend, who thought that Pander had gone to the race track. It didn't make sense, this time of year, but nothing else made sense either.

  Chapter Two

  The grandstand was concrete, big and white where the sun hit it and black where the curved roof made a shadow over the empty tiers. To one side of the track the prairie had been graded and oiled to make a parking lot. There was one car parked in the sun, looking very small next to the grandstand.

  The dim corridors under the structure got cooler where they tunneled to the rear. The small sound of a motor hummed in the back and got stronger close to the door where the air conditio
ner was. It cooled the empty restaurant, the offices upstairs, the betting booths, and the rooms off the basement corridor. They had turned the thing on because Pander liked to be cool.

  He was leaning against the concrete wall of the basement room and watching the three men in the chairs along the wall. They couldn't tell he was watching them because Pander was wearing sunglasses. He always wore sunglasses, big black ones with glittering brass. And his hair had a glitter where he had dented the black wave over the forehead. On Pander everything glittered. The white teeth, the shoes, and the suspenders. He was nuts for suspenders. Today's suspenders were blue with silver stitching running up and down in the shape of vines. The phone rang on the desk and Pander looked at it. Then he said, “Well?” One of the men got off his chair and answered the phone.

  For you, Pander.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Neddy. He's at the office.”

  “Tell him I'm busy.”

  The man made an exasperated shrug with his shoulders and told Neddy that Pander was busy. Then he listened, held the phone out and said, “Better take it, Pander.”

  Pander pushed away from the wall and took the phone. He said into the phone, “This better be good.”

  “There's been a raid, Pander. The place at the Alamo.”

  Pander stuck a piece of gum in his mouth and squeezed it around a few times.

  “I'm sorry to hear that, Ned.”

  Ned made a pause and then he exploded.

  “Don't you hear right? A raid! You know what that means?”

  “I guess the commissioner thinks he can afford it,” said Pander.

  “What's the matter with you, you crazy nut! Read the signs!”

  “Watch your language, Neddy.”

  “Don't gimme no protocol at a time like this!” But after that outburst Ned felt exhausted. He didn't like Pander to start with, and when it came to arguing with him, Ned felt useless. He took a breath and changed his tack.

  “We got to find Fell. It's getting bad, Pander.”

  “I know. Go find him.”

  “Pander, don't act dumb with me! The old man takes off without a word and doesn't come back for over a month, he must have left word! You're taking his place. Where is he?”

  “I'm taking his place, so don't worry,” said Pander.

  “Don't worry? Collections falling off, guys leaving, payoffs all screwed up, and now they get cocky at City Hall and hand us a raid! You trying to run this setup into the ground?”

  “You watch what you're saying, you son of a bitch, I told you once.”

  “Pander, please.” Ned hesitated, made another switch. “Pander, when Fell comes back, you think he's going to pat you on the back for the mess around here?”

  “Fell can pat anything he likes,” said Pander and chewed on his gum.

  “You don't know Fell any too good, do you, Pander? You think just because he takes a shine to...”

  Pander slapped down the phone without letting Ned finish and without making an answer. He knew what he felt like doing to Ned, but he wasn't quite ready yet. Perhaps later, but not yet.

  He sat down on the desk, folded his arms, and stared at the wall.

  “Well?” said Roy. He stretched his long legs out in front of him and threw his Stetson over one foot. Then he started to spin it.

  The man next to him had a thick frame and a face like a boxer. His voice came out high and small.

  “Yeah, what?” he said.

  The third one didn't say anything.

  “It wasn't Aaronson,” said Pander, “so relax and wait.”

  “We been waiting,” said Roy.

  “I wait, you wait. I been waiting for a year. You guys can wait a few minutes.”

  “What did Ned want?” said Roy.

  “Forget it. We're waiting for Aaronson.”

  “Forget it nothing. What was it?”

  Pander chewed his gum faster and acted offhand.

  “There's been a raid. He's all buggered because—”

  “He's all buggered? Don't you think you better make a move when that happens?” Roy had stopped spinning the Stetson.

  Pander got tense. He snapped his left suspender, then the right, doing it fast, like a one-two punch. Pander always took things personally and it didn't give him much time to relax.

  “I'm running this thing, and I move when I'm ready!” He made a thread of his gum, then licked it back in. “I'm ready to move,” he said.

  It made an effect which Pander liked, and he looked from one to the other, while they waited for more.

  “See for yourself.” He started to count on his fingers. “Fell's gone, and I'm running his setup. The combine in L.A. likes my work. They told me to stick close by Fell and watch for the signals. This week they're meeting, with Fell gone. I call that the signal. That's why we're here, waiting for Aaronson. He's coming down from L.A. to give me the word.” Pander stopped, waiting to see how they'd take it.

  “You're going to push Fell?” said Roy.

  “He's getting on.”

  “Oh, sure,” said Roy. He started spinning his Stetson again. “Getting on to his prime.”

  Pander sucked in air, held it a moment. When he started talking again he was sharp and loud.

  “I'm getting groomed for this job, and you know it. This is it. I'm going to move and there's not going to be any deadheads in this caper.”

  “I'm with you,” said Willy.

  The silent guy nodded.

  “Maybe we wait for Aaronson first,” said Roy.

  “That's why we're here. To wait for the word.”

  “What if there isn't any?” But this time it didn't faze Pander. He'd made his point and he could see it all, big and clear. Fell had been gone over a month, and there had been enough time to change things the way Pander thought best. Pander could wait just so long, and Fell didn't scare him any more. He wouldn't think of that part, but kept his eye on the part he knew best. How Fell had taught him the ropes, how Fell had always been friendly and probably not even the kind who'd ever try to push his weight around. There were other stories about Fell—that he was the kind who didn't have to push his weight around to make an impression—but Pander didn't follow that train of thought, because it didn't make sense to him. What made sense was that Fell wasn't here and that he had left things with Pander. And then Fell had never showed again, and on top of that they had called a meeting up in L.A.

  “I hear somebody,” said the guy who hadn't talked until then.

  They listened, and at first heard nothing but the dull hum of the cooling system in the room nearby. Then there were steps coming down the corridor and up to the door.

  Aaronson came in, looking sweated and tired.

  “Christ, it's cold in here,” he said.

  “Well? Where you been all day?”

  “They talked late,” said Aaronson, and pulled out a cigarette. “Lots to talk about.” He lit up.

  “So? What's the word, damn it!”

  Aaronson exhaled, shrugged. “No word, Pander. Not a thing.”

  They just listened to the hum from the room nearby and didn't talk. They watched Pander.

  He held very still, thinking about everything, and then suddenly spat out his gum. “They didn't say nothing? They didn't say yes or no?”

  “Honest, Pander, nothing. I hung around outside; I had drinks with a few of them and all I got was 'Keep your shirt on; tell Pander to keep up the good work; tell him to stay smart,' and some more crap like that.”

  “I'll show 'em how smart! They didn't say no, did they? They didn't check me off, did they?”

  Fell was gone, and Pander was ready. Up in L.A. they were watching how smart he would be.

  “I'm in,” said Pander. “We're gonna move.”

  Roy and Willy and the silent one got off their chairs and stood around waiting for Pander. Aaronson opened the door and they all went out. Pander caught up with Aaronson and took him by the arm.

  “Listen, you mean they didn't even sa
y what about Fell? Didn't they say where he was?”

  “Hell,” said Aaronson. “They thought for sure you'd know.”

  Chapter Three

  The tall drapes kept the sun out of the room because Janice slept late. When she woke it was with a long stretch, the whole length of her, and then she sat up without transition. She got off the bed, rubbed her hands through her brown hair, and opened the drapes. She could see the race track across town. Turning back to the bedroom, she pulled the expensive nightgown over her head. She let it drop to the floor and walked naked across to the door. She opened it and called, “Rita, I'm up.” Then she went to the bathroom and thought about the coffee she was going to have.

  Janice took a shower and kept her hair out of the way. After the soaping she stood for a while longer and felt the sharp heat of the water massage her skin. Then she dried herself and wondered about her weight. She remembered being skinny at twenty, full-bodied at thirty, and now— five years later—exactly the same. Why think about it? She was tall and well-built, and Fell liked it.

  Janice got dressed and put a lipstick on lightly, just to make her small mouth look more alive. She ran her fingers over her lids, from habit, and stroked up on her long lashes. She rarely did more during the day. She had quiet, warm eyes. She liked them the way they were, and Fell liked them.

  She went downstairs because the large rooms on the ground floor looked cooler. Her coffee stood on a table by a window facing the big lawn in front. The sprinklers were on, making a mist that looked strange in the sunlight and strange over the cacti along the drive. She didn't recognize the big car parked in front.

  Janice lit a cigarette, smoked, and sipped coffee. She sat like that and listened to Rita's footsteps crossing the tiled hall. Rita was answering the door. “No,” said Rita, “Mrs. Fell hasn't come down yet" “Just tell her,” said a man's voice, “The name is Sutterfield.”

  “But Mr. Sutterfield—” “Just tell her, will you?”

  Janice put her cup down and rose. No use putting Rita in the wrong. She would see Sutterfield and hope it was nothing bad.

  “Good morning, Mr. Sutterfield.” She held the door open for him.