Джон Макдональд - More Good Old Stuff

He stood near Berman while he registered, not daring to look around the lobby. They rode up together in the elevator. It was only when Berman tipped the hop and the door clicked shut as the boy left that Davo let his breath escape in a long sigh.

It was a bitter, antiseptic little room. Davo looked around and said, “Notice the smell of this shack? Dry rot and dust. Just like the rest of this town. Just like the rest of this stinking town.” He heard his own voice climb up and up.

Berman put a hand on his arm. “Take it easy, Davo. Relax. Hold it a minute, and I’ll get my pint out of the case. Yeah, there’s two glasses in the john.”

Bill Davo sat on the edge of the bed, the glass cupped in his hand, the bite of the liquor sharp in his throat. Berman sat at the small desk, a pad open, a pencil in his hand. He grinned at Davo. “Let’s have it, friend.”

“Okay. I’ll make it short and you can ask questions later. Two years ago I got out of the service and went to work as a junior engineer in the city engineer’s office here in Amberton. I used to live in Santon, a few miles up the river. I know a few people around, and this seemed like a good place to go to work.

“The work went okay until a month or so ago. I felt like an outsider, but I did what I was told. Then I made a survey and found out that a retaining wall that holds up a mile and a half of Western Boulevard ought to be condemned. I made a report in writing, had the girl in the office type it and sent it through my boss, Stanley Hoe, to Commissioner of Public Works Wescott. One other guy in the office, a fellow named Jim Danerra, son of the city treasurer, knew about it.

“Nothing happened. Then, three and a half weeks ago, I found out that a contract had been let to tear up and repave two miles of Western Boulevard. The low bid was put in by Benet Brothers Construction Company. Five hundred and ninety thousand. I went around and got hold of the specifications and couldn’t find out anything about the wall being fixed. Finally I went to Arthur Wescott and asked him what the hell. He told me to mind my own business, only he used bigger words than that.

“I don’t know whether you know anything about road construction, but it’s plain damn foolishness to put in a new road over that faulty wall. I couldn’t figure it out. It didn’t make sense. Then, two weeks ago, I went down on my own to see how Benet Brothers were making out. I figured maybe I could show them the wall. I found out that instead of doing the job they bid on, they’re just spreading a thin coat over the old road. It’s a four-lane job. Then I got the angle.

“Somebody from my office will approve it and they’ll finish the job at a cost of maybe a hundred and fifty thousand. It’ll be opened to traffic, and then the wall will be officially condemned and torn up again. This time, the second time, they’ll fix the wall. With the big profit on the first deal, Benet will be able to bid low on the second job, and thus cover their own tracks. They ought to make a clear profit of about three hundred and fifty thousand — at a minimum. I got mad. I went—”

Berman broke in. “Hold it a minute. Let me get this straight, Davo. What they’re doing is botching a job because they know it won’t have to stand wear. When they get it down, it’ll be torn up again within a few months?”

Davo grinned wryly. “Right,” he said. “Somebody got the idea when they read my recommendation to condemn the wall. I went back and saw Arthur Wescott and threw the whole thing in his face. He called me a damned visionary, an impractical dreamer. I made a few threats about spilling it all to the public and about not being a party to that kind of thing.

“When I went back to my desk, I was just in time to have Stanley Hoe find a bottle of liquor that had been planted in the drawer. There’s an old ordinance about liquor on city premises. I was out of a job and out of the building in twenty minutes. But not before I grabbed this. My copy of the original memo on the retaining wall, dated and with Jane Fay’s initials. She’s the girl in the office.”

Berman looked at it and frowned. “This won’t be much help with just your bare word, Davo.”

“What if she is willing to swear as to the date and the contents?”

“That makes it good. Does this Wescott know about the girl?”

“I hope not. But he knows I have this. I mailed it to myself, care of General Delivery. That same night some of the boys came around and beat me up, but good. They went through my room looking for it. Spoiled a lot of my private papers. I spent six days in bed. My ribs are still taped.”

Berman whistled. “They love you in Amberton, don’t they?”

Bill managed a twisted grin. “Looks that way. Anyhow, as soon as I got out of bed I paid a visit to the newspaper. Talked to the managing editor, a quiet little man named Johnson Vincens. He took me into his office, listened to the story, wept on my shoulder and told me that it would mean his job to mention it. The city political boss, an ex-brewer named Stobe Farner, owns fifty-one percent of the paper.

“Vincens told me that if I want to snitch, to get hold of you people at the state capital. And he told me not to let the machine know that he’d told me, or he’d be fresh out of business. That’s when I phoned and talked finally to you and we made the arrangements.”

Berman said, “Let me check now. Stanley Hoe and James Danerra in the city engineer’s office know of this deal. Also Wescott, Jane Fay and this editor fellow — Vincens. There are others, but you don’t know who.” He paused a minute, thinking. “How come this girl is willing to testify to back you up? A little gone on each other?”

Davo grinned. “I am. And I’d like to think she is... Hey, I forgot the most important thing, almost.”

Berman started as Davo pulled a small wad of fifty-dollar bills out of his side pocket. “This is a thousand dollars. I just happened to check my bank statement and found it had been deposited. The bank says somebody came in and deposited it in cash. These boys play safe. They figured I wouldn’t notice it maybe, or if I did I might keep quiet, thinking the bank had made some mistake. Then they could discredit me by making me explain where it came from. And here’s a photostat of the deposit slip. Typed. Maybe you can find out what machine it was typed on.”

Berman took the money, counted it and stuck it in his pocket. He made out a receipt in pencil and gave it to Davo. He lit a cigarette and stared at Bill Davo oddly.

At last he said, “Have you got any angle you’ve left out? What I mean to say is — what is your motive in all this? Why are you trying to buck these people?”

Davo studied the floor. He said, “It sounds silly, but I just guess they made me mad. First of all, they didn’t let me in on a thing for a long time. Then they insult my intelligence by letting that road contract without a word to me. Maybe I’m no more honest than the next guy. I think sometimes that if they’d buttered me up before they let the contract, I might be right in there with them, skimming off a little cream. But they didn’t. And when I yawped, they had me fired and then had me beat up.

“I’m just mad, that’s all. Besides, I hate to see a town taking the tossing that Amberton has been taking. This guy Stobe Farner has figured out a hundred variations of taking graft. I bet you this city could be run for half of what it’s costing. And if you could halve that tax rate, this town would start to come to life again instead of slowly drifting off the deep end.”

“Well, you’ve done your job, Davo. You better leave all this in my hands. Get out of town. It won’t be healthy for you here. I’ll get some men in and we’ll go to work quietly. If we make a fuss, Benet Brothers will get the tip and handle the present road job the way the contract reads instead of putting that thin coating on top. Then we won’t have anything to go on. Better let them think that they’ve scared you out of town. I imagine that Arthur K. Wescott is pretty astute.”