No Pockets in a Shroud Read online

  'Well, keep after them,' Lawrence said, going out.

  'I don't think that guy likes me,' Bishop said.

  'Sure, he does. He's a little tight with his money, that's all.'

  'What'd he mean about three thousand circulation at ten cents a copy? That's not all the income, is it? What about those ads?'

  'Well, Eddie, don't let this go any farther—but most of those ads were give-aways. We donated those to the stores to prove we could pull business.'

  'Then where are you going to get the money to pay me?' Bishop asked, puzzled.

  'I think we're going to get it out of the magazine, but don't worry about it. In case everything else fails, I've got a private gold mine hidden away. Haven't I, Myra?'

  'Oh yes, indeed,' Myra said. 'A fifty-five-year-old gold mine.'

  A man suddenly stepped through the open door into the office and stood there staring. He was about thirty years old, very stocky, very neatly dressed. All of them saw him, and for two or three seconds not a word was spoken and not a person moved.

  'What do you want, Fritz?' Dolan finally said quietly.

  'You know what I want,' Dockstetter said slowly, not moving. 'You're the one got me kicked out of baseball. You know what I want, you dirty son of a bitch.'

  'Now, wait a minute, Fritz,' Dolan said in almost a pleasant tone, casually easing out from behind the desk. 'I don't want any trouble with you.'

  'I guess you know what you've done to my career, don't you?'

  'I know what you've done to it,' Dolan said, continuing to drift casually towards him. 'I had this story a month ago, but the paper wouldn't print it. I had to quit my job to nail you.'

  'Yeah?' Dockstetter said, putting his right hand in his coat pocket.

  'Look out!' Bishop yelled.

  Dolan leaped forward, swinging a left that struck Dockstetter on the side of the head, staggering him, driving him backward. Dockstetter was poking with his own left, waving it, while frantically trying to get his doubled fist out of his right pocket. Dolan followed him backward, drilling him under the jaw, then lashing him with a right to the face, slamming him into the wall, crumpling him on the floor. Quickly Dolan was on top of him, tugging at that right hand which was still in the pocket. He finally jerked it out and rammed his own hand inside.

  'I thought so,' he said, holding up a pistol. 'A thirty-two. I thought this bastard had murder in his eye.'

  'You're not bad with your fists, kid,' Bishop said.

  'Well!' Myra exclaimed. 'I was scared for a minute.'

  'I'm not so good yet myself,' Dolan said. 'Ed—there's some water in the hall. Hurry up so's we can bring him to. Myra, put this pistol in my desk. Hell! Excitement, hunh?'

  'This is only the beginning,' Myra said. 'Wait until we really get going—'

  * * * * *

  Dolan took Myra to a roof-garden that night for dinner.

  'It's nice up here, isn't it?' Myra said.

  'I suppose so,' Dolan said, sighing, looking out of the window on to the lights of the town below.

  'Don't be so depressed,' Myra said, a little gaily. 'You've got everything in the world to be happy about. Everybody in town is talking about you and the magazine. Since we've been sitting here at least twenty people have come by and congratulated you. And you're doing the thing you wanted to do. So what the hell?'

  'I wasn't thinking of that,' Dolan said, glancing towards the orchestra stand, to a big table beside it.

  'Oh!' Myra said, following his eyes. 'That!—Well, don't be sore at me. When I suggested coming here I didn't know the girl was having a wedding-party. I didn't even know she was married.'

  'I'd forgotten it myself,' Dolan said. 'I guess she thinks I'm a heel to rub it in like this.'

  'Like what?'

  'Like this. Us being here.'

  'What's so horrible about that?'

  'For God's sake, will you try to understand? I used to go with April. I used to go with that crowd at her table. Everybody knows I was nuts about her.'

  'And that she was nuts about you—'

  'At any rate, here I am in the same roof-garden with her wedding-party—and with another girl.'

  'A strange girl,' Myra said, wetting her lips. 'A girl nobody knows. A tramp.'

  'Now, why the hell act like that?'

  'How else do you think I could act? You've just got through telling me you're conspicuous because you're here with a girl who doesn't belong to that crowd—that phony bunch of so-called upper crust—'

  'I didn't say any such thing. You're nuts.'

  'You're nuts yourself. For God's sake, why do you care what they think? Why do you keep trying to crash the social register? You're a nobody to them—'

  'I know it,' Dolan said soberly.

  'They rejected you for every club in town because you were brought up across the tracks. They sneer at you behind your back. They're contemptuous of you. You're a goddam fool, Mike. You've got possibilities, you've got power—and now you're on your way. You're going places. Stop worrying about those cheap little parasites.'

  'I'm not worrying as much about them as I am about April. She's a swell egg.'

  'The world's full of swell eggs. Are you jealous of the chap who married her—that Menefee?'

  'I guess not...'

  'Then stop being so tragic about it. She's married, and so what? Another lay is out of circulation. From the way you've been moping for the last hour and a half you must think she's the only girl in the world who knows how to fall over.'

  'I won't have you saying things like that about April—'

  'Oh, God,' Myra said wearily, looking up at the artificial stars in the roof. 'Will you stop being so righteous! I'm only saying what you're thinking—I'm only being honest. Mike,' she said, leaning on her elbows, staring at him, 'I'm only trying to get you to shake this social phobia of yours. Once you get rid of that nothing can stop you. Those people are absolutely worthless. They're just walking around, contributing nothing, taking up a lot of space and breathing a lot of air that could damn well be used by somebody else.'

  'I'm not arguing about that,' Dolan said. 'You're probably right. But in spite of everything, they represent something I've never had and something I want very much.'

  'You're a frustrated cotillion leader, that's what you are. Let's get the hell out of here.'

  'I want to dance a couple of more times ...'

  'You mean you want to dance once with April.'

  'Maybe—'

  'Well, you go right ahead and make a chump out of yourself,' Myra said, pulling her wrap over her shoulders. 'I'm going.'

  'You don't have to, you know—'

  'I know I don't have to, but I've got more pride for you than you've got for yourself. I'm going back to your apartment. I'll wait for you there,' she said, standing up.

  'I may be pretty late ...'

  'That's all right. I'll get Ulysses to let me into your room. The other boys'll be there. Maybe they can make it interesting for me.'

  'You better not in my bed. I'm telling you. I'll slap your ears off.'

  'Well, don't be too late then,' she said, moving away.

  Dolan got up and threaded his way through the dancing couples to April's table. A hill of flowers swelled from the centre of it. Several chairs were unoccupied.

  'Hello, stranger,' April said softly, extending her hand.

  'Congratulations,' Dolan said. 'You too, Roy'

  'Thanks,' Menefee said. 'You know these other people, don't you? Harry Carlisle—'

  'Sure, I know everybody. Hello!' Dolan said, nodding, sitting down in a chair beside Lillian Fried, a blonde debutante of the year before. 'Hello, Lillian—'

  'Hello, Mike—'

  'I've got a bone to pick with you, Dolan,' Menefee said. 'You owe me a honeymoon.'

  'Yes? How's that?'

  'You got April into that Little Theatre show, and now because it's running she can't leave town.'

  'I didn't have anything to do with that, Roy. The Major picked he
r. You're a big hit,' he said to April. 'Swell notices today. How'd it go?'

  'Good. You should have been there. We all expected you backstage after the opening—'

  'I was pretty busy—'

  'You're still a rotten liar, aren't you, Mike?'

  'On the level. Magazine's out tomorrow, you know—'

  'What about that picture of mine you promised to run?' Lillian said.

  'I'll run it next week—'

  'Your society page is pretty sick,' Lillian declared. 'Was that your society editor you had over at the table tonight?'

  'Not exactly. Why?'

  'Nothing—'

  'She's a stunning type,' April said. 'Who is she?'

  'Oh—she handles the telephones and things—writes a little—'

  'I still think I ought to have the job as society editor,' Lillian said. 'I used to work on the school paper—'

  'I couldn't pay any money—'

  'Oh, I wouldn't want a salary. I'd do it just for the fun of it.'

  'What she means,' Harry Carlisle said, leaning over the table, 'is that it would be worth her time just to be around you.'

  'Shut up, Harry!' Lillian snapped.

  'No offence,' Carlisle said, smiling. 'Just kidding.'

  'You're kidding on the square,' Dolan said.

  'Would you like to dance, Mike?' April said.

  'Well,' Dolan said, asking Menefee the question with his eyes.

  'Why not?' Menefee said, standing up, helping April out of her chair.

  'Thanks,' Dolan said, getting up, moving with April to the dance floor. 'You suppose this is all right?' he asked, as they started dancing.

  'Certainly, silly—'

  'I mean, is it ethical to dance with a bride right after she's just become a bride?'

  'Certainly. I danced with Roy and Johnny London and Harry Carlisle—'

  'Was Johnny here? I didn't see him.'

  'You haven't seen anybody. You were too engrossed in that exotic girl you brought. Where is she, by the way?'

  'Oh ... gone.'

  'Fight?'

  'Sort of—'

  'I thought so from your tone. It's too bad. She's damned attractive.'

  'It's not serious. We had an argument about coming over to your table. She said not to and...'

  'I get it. You're still obstinate. Why didn't she want you to come?'

  'Oh, no reason. She was right though. They are a lot of snobs. Most of 'em didn't even speak to me. Except Carlisle—and he made a dirty crack.'

  'Forget Carlisle. Success has gone to Harry's head. He was telling us tonight he's going to take bigger offices—'

  'He ought to. He's got a sure-fire racket—'

  'You like Fio Rito?'

  'First time I've heard him—in person, I mean. He's all right.'

  'Mike... why haven't you been around the theatre?'

  'Busy.'

  'You've never been that busy before. Was it on account of the thing that happened that night—when the Major made you apologize?'

  'Not only that. I've really been busy—'

  'I've called you a dozen times. Did you get my messages?'

  'Yes. I don't like to call you at home, April—you know how the old man feels—and then you were set to marry Roy and everything. You should have let me know. I would have sent a present or something—'

  'That's why I called this morning. I wanted to let you know...'

  'God, this is swell,' Dolan said, holding her a little tighter. 'Say, I wish this thing could have worked out differently—'

  'So do I, Mike—'

  'God, this is swell,' he said again, feeling the slow movement of her body against his, thinking with a rush of warmth of all the times he had held her.

  'Will there ever be any more nights beside our brook, Mike?' she asked in a whisper.

  'Good God—yes. Yes—'

  'Excuse me,' Menefee said abruptly, thrusting himself between Dolan and April. 'May I finish this one?'

  '—All right—' Dolan said, releasing her. 'Thanks, April. Good night—'

  He threaded his way back to his own table and discovered Carlisle sitting in the chair Myra had vacated.

  'Too bad you didn't get to finish your dance,' Carlisle said, smiling. 'I told Menefee to sit still and stop worrying, but he had to go interrupt—'

  'That was sweet of you,' Dolan said. 'I know what you mean.'

  'Why, from the way you act you'd think I ribbed him to cut in—'

  'It doesn't matter,' Dolan said, signaling for the waiter.

  'Going?' Carlisle asked.

  'Yeah.'

  'I was anxious to talk to you—'

  'Some other time,' Dolan said, looking at the check, handing the waiter a five-dollar bill.

  'Why haven't you ever liked me, Dolan? I like you all right. Why don't you like me?'

  'You don't like me, Harry. You didn't like me when we were kids in school and you don't like me now. And I don't like you. I thought you were a prick then, and I think you're a prick now. Just,'—Dolan said, moving his fingers—'to keep the record straight.'

  'And that's why you're going to attack me in your magazine—because you don't like me?'

  'What makes you think I'm going to attack you?' Dolan asked, trying to keep the surprise out of his voice.

  'Oh—I get around. I just thought I'd remind you that I'm one person in this town you'd better lay off.'

  'Don't you think you should wait until I print whatever it is you think I'm going to print before you threaten me?'

  'I thought I'd remind you. Just,'—Carlisle said, moving his fingers, imitating Dolan's gesture—'to keep the records straight.'

  '—Thanks,' Dolan said to the waiter, taking the change, giving him a tip. 'Meaning,' he said to Carlisle, 'your brother.'

  'Brother? Oh—you mean, Jack. Say,' he said, feigning surprise, 'that's an idea. Hadn't thought about Jack. Got a lot of power. Maybe I can get him to help me talk you into laying off—'

  'Yeah, maybe you can. Maybe he can use some of his power to bring back those three girls you killed performing abortions on 'em—'

  Carlisle jumped to his feet. 'Look here, Dolan,' he said, all the oil in his voice suddenly gone, 'you'd goddam well better get your facts straight before you print anything like that!'

  'I'll goddam well get 'em straight and you can take a ticket on it,' Dolan said coldly, walking out...

  * * * * *

  There was a light on downstairs when Dolan got home, and through the big windows he could see Elbert and Tommy and Ernst, the ex-war ace, sitting around on the floor with Myra. They were having an earnest discussion of some sort. Dolan went on upstairs to his room and started undressing. He was down to his shorts when Myra came in.

  'Don't you ever knock?' he said.

  'Here,' she said, grabbing the old bathrobe off a chair, tossing it to him. 'Put this on and everything will be proper.'

  'I'm not talking about propriety, I'm talking about politeness. Where the hell are those slippers?' he asked, looking around. “That goddam Ulysses, I guess he's got 'em down in his room. He's got everything else down there—'

  'If you're talking about those awful red moccasins there they are under the desk,' Myra said, pointing. 'I guess you know what time it is, don't you?'

  'I took a ride after I left the roof.'

  'It must have been a long one. I've been waiting two hours for you—'

  'You seemed to be enjoying it,' Dolan said, putting on his slippers. 'What was the subject—that homosexuality is the first law of genius?'

  'This time it was about Hitler.'

  'That's what I said.'

  'Ernst is slightly mad on the subject of pure Aryanism, isn't he?'

  'Oh, definitely. That's why he's on the make for all the colored gals. Ulysses brought his gal here one night and turned his back for a second, and when he turned around she was gone. Ernst had her over on the floor behind the piano. Ulysses was going to carve him up, but we talked him out of it. Oh, definitely
Ernst goes for nothing but pure Aryans. And now, Miss Bamovbuttinsky will you get the hell home and let me go to bed?'

  'Go ahead to bed. I'm not stopping you.'

  'After all, now—'

  'I only wanted to talk to you. I can talk as well with you in bed.'

  'But I don't want to be talked to,' Dolan said. 'I'm tired of hearing about my complexes and inhibitions and mechanisms. Go home, will you—'

  'See April?'

  'Yes—'

  'How was she taking it?'

  'Taking what?'

  'Her martyrdom. Being freshly married to the new while still loving the old. That's martyrdom, you know—'

  'No kidding,' Dolan said sarcastically.

  'Did you get the dance with her?' Myra went on in the same quiet tone.

  'About a third of one, yes. Then her husband cut in.'

  'Cut in? That was an odd thing to do, wasn't it?'

  'He blames me for postponing his honeymoon. He thinks I got April in the Little Theatre show. But Harry Carlisle ribbed him to cut in on me. As I walked away from the table with April I saw Harry move over beside him. Harry reminded him he was supposed to be jealous of me.'

  'I'll bet Menefee didn't need much reminding—'

  'Hell, that's all over now. When I went back to our table, Carlisle was waiting there for me. He tried to tell me subtly I'd better not print anything about him in the magazine.'

  'Oh, that's the Carlisle!'

  'That's the one. The famous society doctor.'

  'How'd he know you intended printing anything about him?'

  'That's what I'd like to find out. Nobody knew about it but you and I and Bishop.'

  'And Thomas. Don't forget the day you got sore and tried to impress him by reading the list of people you intended exposing.'

  'Yes—and Thomas. Yes.'

  'Are Thomas and this Carlisle friends?'

  'I don't know. He knows Jack, his brother. Jack Carlisle's the Big Squeeze in this county—'

  'I hope you won't let his threats stop you.'

  'Don't worry, they won't. This is one job that is going to be a great pleasure. I've never liked him anyway... and now will you please scram?'

  'You wouldn't have me walk way down town alone at this hour of the night, would you?'

  'All right, goddam it. I'll get Ulysses to take you home in my car—'

  'But why do that? Why don't we do the simple thing?'