A Shroud for Jesso Read online

  “Jackie, how are ya? You’re hardly home and already-”

  “Listen close, Paul. I got business. You remember Bonetti?”

  “Bonetti?”

  “Yeah, yeah, Bonetti. Twenty years ago. You’re old enough to remember.”

  “Oh, Bonetti! Sure, I remember him.”

  “You knew him pretty good, didn’t you?”

  “A little business here and there.”

  “So listen. He had a punk in his crowd called Snell. Joseph Snell.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Sort of short, popeyed.”

  “Never heard of him, Jackie.”

  “All right, all right. Snell was in his crowd, though. Who’s still around that Snell might know?”

  There was silence for a moment and then Carter said, “Bonetti’s dead.”

  “I didn’t ask that, damn it!”

  “There was Pickles, but he’s on the rock.”

  “Bonetti had a brother, didn’t he?”

  “That’s right. But, Christ, he must be seventy or something. Besides, he never hung around much. Did the fencing, is all.”

  “And kept a hideout for the boys, didn’t he?”

  “That’s right. But he must be over-”

  “Never mind. What happened to him?”

  “Christ, Jackie, I wouldn’t know.”

  “Who would? Think, Paul.”

  “He had a daughter. Cook’s the married name.”

  “Here in New York?”

  “I think so. At least, five years ago I remember-”

  “O.K., Paul, thanks a million.”

  Jesso hung up. He turned to Kator, who had lit a cigar and stood by the window watching Jesso.

  “I need a phone book, Kator. Manhattan first.”

  “To your left, in the drawer.” Kator rolled the cigar between his lips and watched Jesso.

  There was a long string of Cooks, and Jesso felt disgusted before he started. Then the phone rang. “This is Murph. May I speak-“

  “It’s me, Murph. So?”

  “I checked around by phone, Jackie, and so far nothing. Nobody’s seen anything like that Snell guy around. And I meant to tell ya, Jackie, Gluck came down and the car wasn’t ready. So I tried to explain to him how you-“

  “To hell with Gluck. What else?”

  “I sent a few guys checking the flops and got some names for you. Names of guys what used to keep a hole in the wall for special guests.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  “Well, there’s that farmer Cook, out near Nyack.”

  “You say Cook?”

  “Yes, Jackie. He’s in New Orleans right now, due back in a week. Then there’s Murrow, Able-sometimes, anyway-another Cook, Jenowitch-“

  “That’s enough. Stay at Gluck’s place and I’ll be right over.”

  “O.K., Jackie, but I wanted to tell you, Gluck was sore when his car wasn’t-“

  “Forget it. And wait for me.”

  Jesso hung up. This job was going to be over so fast that Gluck was going to have sleepless nights thinking of bigger and better ways to get under Jesso’s skin.

  “Where are you going?” Kator was still by the window.

  “To find your man. I’ll phone you.”

  “Just a moment.” Kator was in the middle of the room when Jesso turned. “You will take one of my men with you. As I explained to you earlier-”

  Jesso stopped at the door. He made it short. “I work alone. Send one of your monkeys and you won’t find your man for weeks. I’ll see to that.” He slammed the door.

  Chapter Four

  The other Cook lived in Brooklyn. After Jesso had taken Murph’s list, he decided on the Cook in Brooklyn first. Murph had finished with the carburetor in the meantime, so Jesso took Gluck’s car.

  The address was a store that said, “Notions.” The dim insides hung full of dusty dresses, and everything looked twice as cheap where a naked bulb made a glitter on the boxes of fancy buttons. When Jesso came in, a fat woman with an apron over her coat was scratching a fingernail over the plastic eye of a button. “No, thanks, dearie, it ain’t what I want,” she said. Her other hand dropped something into her pocket. “No, dearie, this ain’t the right color,” she said, and left through the door.

  The other one didn’t look any better. She watched Jesso walk up to the counter. When the glare from the bulb hit his face she said, “What do you want?”

  “Buttons,” Jesso said.

  She patted her hair. It was a rumpled gray and she kept patting it as if that were going to make a difference.

  “The buttons I’m after are blue. Popeye blue, Mrs. Cook.”

  She stopped patting. “How’d you know my name?”

  “Your father told me.”

  She leaned her face closer and Jesso saw wrinkles stretch in her neck.

  “You’re lying. He ain’t left the back in years.” She straightened up again and folded her big arms. “What do you want, copper?”

  Jesso laughed. Then he stopped and put his hands in his pockets. “Where’s Bonetti?”

  She still look rattled. “Who’s that?”

  “Your old man, in the back. He ain’t left the back in years, you said.”

  She was stupid. “Who’s Bonetti?” she said again.

  Jesso shrugged and walked through the curtain in the back. It was even darker there. He stumbled over an empty carton that lay on the floor and hit his leg against a sewing machine. Then he stood still, trying to get his bearings. Tissue paper crackled under his feet and there was a smell of burned coffee.

  “He’s a copper,” the woman said from the curtain.

  “Oh, no, he ain’t.”

  Jesso turned, looking for the cackly voice. Then he saw Bonetti. He sat all sunken in a wheel chair, his old man’s jaws chomping in a constant tic, and there was a big. 45 in his hand. It trembled a little, but the aim was good enough.

  “Call the police, Ann,” Bonetti said.

  Jesso kept his hands down, turned slowly.

  “Go ahead, Ann,” he said. “Gluck’s going to like that. And Snell.”

  But Gluck didn’t mean a thing to Bonetti and he ignored the name Snell.

  “Go on, Ann,” he said. He kept working his jaws.

  Bonetti’s daughter stepped around the sewing machine and grabbed the phone off the hook. “Police,” she said.

  When she was connected with the police she gave her name and address, and asked to have a man sent out right away, because her daddy had caught a prowler and was holding a gun on him. She hung up and turned to Jesso. “Smart guy,” she said, and worked her mouth the way her father was doing it.

  “That’s right,” Jesso said. He stood still and watched the old man’s gun. The muzzle was making short, trembly arcs, the safety was off, and one bony finger held the trigger the way it ought to be held.

  “Lemme reach for a smoke,” Jesso said. He waited for an answer.

  “See if he’s clean, Ann.”

  “He’s clean,” Jesso said, but the woman started to pat his sides, without ever getting in the way of the gun.

  “So smoke,” Bonetti said.

  Jesso lit up and let them watch. He could tell they were getting puzzled.

  “You know you made a mistake, don’t you, Bonetti?” The old man didn’t answer. His daughter poured a cup of the coffee that Jesso had been smelling and the old man started to slurp.

  “This’ll ruin your setup, Bonetti, once the cops have been here.”

  Bonetti just slurped.

  “You should have asked my name, Bonetti.”

  “And get a lie.”

  Jesso sighed and took an elaborate puff on his cigarette. “I thought you might feel that way, Bonetti.” Then he leaned against the sewing machine, finished his cigarette, and just waited.

  When the cop came charging into the store and through the curtain, nobody turned.

  “That’s him,” Bonetti said, pointing with the gun.

  The cop stumbled ov
er the paper carton and knocked against Jesso. He grabbed him by the arm and held his. 38 against Jesso’s side. “What’s he done? Who’s preferring charges?”

  Before Bonetti got his mouth open, Jesso turned his face to the cop.

  “Nobody’s preferring charges,” he said.”

  There was quite a pause when he was through.

  Then Bonetti flicked the safety and put the gun down in his lap. “I am,” he said. “Breaking and entering.”

  “Pops is balmy,” Jesso said. “We’re old pals having a chat. Then his mind starts to wander, you know how it is,” and Jesso moved to shake the cop’s hand off his arm.

  But that didn’t come off, either. The young cop was a rookie and he wasn’t getting any of this. He grabbed Jesso’s arm and yanked.

  “You resisting arrest, buddy?” His face came close.

  “Heavens, I wouldn’t!” Jesso said. He grinned back at the cop.

  “So don’t make suspicious movements,” the rookie said, and he waved his gun up and down.

  “Before you shoot, Officer, I got a confession to make.” The cop waited. “Ever hear of Jack Jesso?”

  The cop had, but he didn’t like being snowed. He turned back to the old man, but he wasn’t any help either. Bonetti had heard of Jack Jesso too. Bonetti sat still, waiting for the rookie to carry the ball.

  “So what?” said the rookie. “I also heard of Jack Rabbit. Now move, buster. You, lady,” he nodded at Bonetti’s daughter, “better come along to the station.”

  But Jesso didn’t move, and the woman didn’t move. Old Bonetti waved his hand at her and the woman stood still, waiting for somebody to make up his mind.

  “I got more to confess, Officer,” Jesso said. “It’ll save you the trouble of facing up to a false-arrest charge.”

  “Who’ll charge false arrest?” the rookie yelled.

  “I will,” Jesso said. “Me. Jack Jesso.”

  The cop stepped back. “Stick out your hands,” he said, and he fumbled for the handcuffs under his coat. He still held the gun in the other hand.

  Jesso folded his arms. “I’ll save your job for you,” he said. “One phone call, rookie, and I save you your job.”

  “Don’t move,” said the rookie.

  “Or I’ll bust you back to civilian.”

  “Stick out those wrists.”

  “You don’t hear Pops preferring any charges, do you?”

  That was true. Bonetti hadn’t said a word. He was chomping his gums and trying to look sly.

  “One phone call, rookie, and the whole thing’s forgotten.”

  “Don’t move,” said the rookie. He had started to sweat.

  “I’m standing still,” Jesso said. “You make the phone call. What’s your precinct?”

  The rookie told him.

  “Call and ask for Captain Todd. Tell him I want to talk to him.”

  Jesso could almost see the wheels going around in the cop’s head. He would be a fool to let this go by. Either way, how could he lose?

  The cop made the connection and then Jesso took the phone.

  “Ed? Jesso… Fine, fine. Listen, a man of yours asked me to call, for character reference, sort of. Tell him who I am and so forth… No, just a mix-up… No, no. Just a real alert kid. Wanted to make sure there was no mistake. Some loony called the cops thinking I was going to steal his wheel chair… No, honest. Here he is.” Jesso turned to the cop and gave him the phone.

  It didn’t take long after that. The rookie hung up, holstered his gun, and put the handcuffs away. He gave Bonetti a dirty look, kicked the paper carton out of the way, and left. When the front door banged shut, Jesso walked over to the wheel chair and took the. 45 out of the old man’s lap.

  “Nothing like a cop for a character witness, is there, Bonetti?”

  The old man coughed. “How should I know who you was? You shoulda told me who you was.”

  “And get told I’m a liar,” Jesso said. He tossed the gun on the sewing machine. “Where’s Joe Snell?”

  “Look, Jackie.” Bonetti came wheeling across the room. “I gotta make a living. I never yet crossed a customer.”

  “There’s no convincer like an honest cop, Bonetti.”

  The old man squirmed in his chair. He rolled the wheels back and forth as if he were trying to twist them off.

  “What are you worried about, Bonetti? You know I haven’t got a gun.”

  “All right.” The old man sounded peeved. “Take him down.” He nodded at his daughter. “He only paid in advance till tomorrow.”

  Bonetti’s daughter led the way through another room, into the kitchen, and stopped by a chipped piece of linoleum on the floor.

  “Pick it up,” she said. “I ain’t so young any more.”

  Jesso picked it up and then the trap door underneath. The woman climbed down the stairs, grunting each time she took a step. She waited for Jesso in the basement.

  It stank. It wasn’t just the mold and the dead air, but other things too. Behind a coal bin, in a thing like a storage closet, there was a cot under a dim window.

  The first thing Jesso saw about the man was his eyes. They glittered like the buttons upstairs.

  He lay on the cot, face up, and he was mumbling without ever moving his lips.

  “He’s sick,” Jesso said. “Has he seen a doctor?”

  The old woman made a motion with her mouth, turned, and went back up the stairs.

  The man on the cot was lying as before. His bony head looked white and his hair started far back.

  “You Joseph Snell?”

  His eyes blinked and he started to chatter.

  “Look pal. I’m not getting a word of this,” Jesso said.

  “They can’t wait,” the man was saying. “Can’t much longer. I told him. Kator knows it.”

  “You’re Snell, all right.” Jesso leaned closer. “You wanna glass of water?”

  “But you gotta have both. I got it, I got it. Honeywell-You were sixteen, my village queen-” he started to sing.

  Jesso picked up the milk bottle at the foot of the bed and sloshed the liquid around. It was water.

  “Here, take some.” He held the man up by the neck, forced the bottle through the man’s teeth, and poured. Snell started to drink. His eyes focused suddenly and he sat up. He spat out the water and pushed the bottle away.

  “Did you hear?” he said. “A beauty. Man, such a beauty!”

  “Yeah, what a kid.”

  “What a prom,” said Snell, and he shook his head. Then he slumped back again and stared. “Honeywell,” he said.

  “I know. Certainly.” Jesso put the bottle down.

  “Honeywell high! Honeywell high!” The man sounded excited.

  “Look, Snell-”

  “Honeywell high, Honeywell high!”

  “Sure, what a team. Good old Honeywell High.”

  “Good old Honeywell High,” said the man, and his sick eyes weren’t looking at anything.

  Jesso tried to get through once more, but he had to give up. He went up the stairs into the kitchen, and left the trap door open. In the room with the sewing machine he found Bonetti and his daughter.

  “Take him some coffee,” he said. They stared at him. “Take him some coffee.”

  He watched the woman take a cup of the stuff to the kitchen and left. There weren’t any customers in the front; just the buttons with the sick glitter.

  He took his time driving back to Manhattan. The job had taken barely half a day. Kator could wait. And Snell, he wasn’t going anywhere with that fever. The noon traffic was heavy across the bridge, but Jesso hardly noticed. He thought of Gluck once, good old anxious Gluck with the convention smile, biting his fingernails, hardly able to wait for Jesso to throw the job and give Gluck his chance to make his move. All by the code, too. “You goofed, Jesso, and out you go. We can’t afford dead wood,” or some fine phrase like that. Gluck had a surprise coming.

  But the thought didn’t give Jesso any real kick. He kept crawling with the
traffic, not minding it, because right then he didn’t feel like going anywhere fast. Maybe a drink would pick him up. Maybe a short trip South and to hell with Gluck and his schemes. Or a woman, if he had a real woman.

  He stopped the car in the Fifties and walked across the street to the bar.

  There was a lot of carved oak and antlers and brass-buttoned leather. Aside from that, the place was almost empty. The barkeep was eating a corned-beef sandwich, and when he saw Jesso he took one more bite and reached back for the bottle of Scotch.

  “Been out of town?” he said through a mouthful. Then he pushed Jesso’s double across the bar.

  Jesso paid and sat down.

  “Where’s the cool, beautiful blonde?” said the barkeep.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Lynn, wasn’t it?” The barkeep took another bite. “Been here a few times. Nary a drop she had, just looked. You two busted?”

  “You will. Any minute now,” Jesso said. He took his glass and went to a table. He sat down and watched the fat shine of the sunlight where it hit one end of the oak bar. At first he thought about Lynn, because the bar-keep had mentioned her and because she used to come here with him. He’d brought her here because he liked the place, not because it was especially good for a twosome. She got to like it too. She started to like everything he did, in the end.

  Jesso sipped his double and tried to think of Lynn. But it was just a game, because he was so completely through with her that there was nothing to think about. One of the brass buttons on the leather chair opposite kept shooting a light in his eyes, so Jesso shifted. Another chair with brass buttons. Nothing but buttons all over the place. Like that poor bastard in Bonetti’s basement with two fever buttons for eyes. Jesso wondered what Kator might be after. It couldn’t be friendly. Kator was too big and Snell was too small. Just about the kind of setup Gluck would have liked. Gluck big, Jesso small, and the chase was over. Jesso sipped and felt the Scotch work up behind his eyes. Nothing like Snell was going to happen to him. Not Gluck or Muck or who knows what was big enough to make that happen to Jesso. He took a big breath, as if testing whether there were still enough air around. That felt better. Right then even the thought of Gluck didn’t bother him, because actually Gluck didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Gluck was a small bug in a big web and he thought everybody else must be the same. Jesso blew smoke and watched it drift away That’s what he thought of Gluck and his outfit. All Jesso ever wanted was a free hand and nobody underfoot, and no smoke-blowing bug in a web was going to change that.