A. Fair - Shills Can't Cash Chips

“It’s about an accident that you saw and he seems to be very— well, he’s a little annoyed about things.”

“Is that so?” I said. “How often has he called?”

“He’s called three times within the last hour. Heavens, I didn’t know what to tell him. I told him that I wasn’t aware that anyone from my apartment had given him a telephone number but that my brother was visiting me and I expected him in shortly.”

“I’ll be in shortly,” I told her. “Sit tight.”

“Donald, is this anything — well, dangerous?”

“How should I know?”

“I’m frightened.”

“You don’t need to be. I’ll be in.”

“How soon?”

“Within an hour.”

“Oh, Donald, I— You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“That’s strange,” I said. “Usually you tell me to be good. Now you tell me to be careful.”

Her laugh was nervous. “Do you want me to cook dinner for you?”

“Might be a good idea,” I said. “That would give the place a homey atmosphere.”

“What do you want?”

“Champagne and filet mignon,” I said.

“I’m a working girl.”

“This,” I said, “is on an expense account.”

“Champagne and filet mignon it is,” she said. “You want them thick?”

“Thick.”

“Rare?”

“Rare.”

“Potatoes?”

“Baked. Don’t go to any trouble. Don’t try to make a salad or dessert. We’re just going to have steak, baked potato, champagne and perhaps a can of green peas. I’ll cook the steaks when I get there. When this bird calls again, try to get his name. Tell him that I’ve been detained but that I phoned you I was coming home in an hour and that we’ll be having dinner at that time. Tell him to come in about an hour and a half from now and I can talk with him.”

“You be sure to get here before he arrives, Donald.”

“I’ll be there,” I told her. “You buy the steaks and the champagne. Be sure to keep the bills so I’ll have a voucher for Bertha.”

“Bertha,” she announced, “will have kittens all over the lot.”

“Do her good,” I said. “Sit tight. I’m on my way.”

I hung up the phone, hit a little better traffic conditons than I had anticipated and was there within forty-five minutes.

Elsie had the champagne on ice and a couple of thick filet mignons all ready to go in the broiler. There were potatoes baking in the oven and a can of green peas. She also had a loaf of sour dough French bread split and buttered and ready to go in the oven. There was a jar of garlic paste to put on the bread as it toasted.

“Well, this is just like home,” I said.

She started to say something, caught herself, then blushed a fiery red, evidently at what she had been about to say.

“You got the bills?” I asked her.

She handed them to me.

“Did our man call again?”

“He called within seconds of when I hung up after talking with you.”

“You told him to be here?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“Said he’d be here. Said I could tell my brother that this wasn’t any laughing matter and to be absolutely positive he was telling the truth.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him my brother always told the truth, that it ran in the family.”

“Good girl,” I said. “Well, we’d better make the thing look brotherly.”

I took off my coat, unfastened my cuffs, rolled up my shirt sleeves, pulled my necktie down, opened the collar of my shirt and was looking around for something to do when the buzzer sounded.

“Answer the door,” I said to Elsie. “Tell him that your brother has just come in and ask the guy his name.

“When you introduce me, try not to give a last name. Simply say, ‘This is Donald.’ Do you get me?”

“I get you.”

“Let’s go.”

She went to the door.

The thick-set, aggressive-looking individual who stood on the threshold had bushy eyebrows, thick hair just above the ears and very little on top of the head. He wore an expensive suit but the shoes were badly in need of a shine.

“Hello,” he said. “Is your brother in— Oh, yes, I see him.”

He started in through the door.

Elsie stood in the doorway. “May I have your name, please?”

“Harry Jewett,” he said, and pushed past her into the apartment.

“You’re the brother?” he asked me.

“I’m the brother,” I said, holding the long barbecuing fork with which I had been ready to spear the steaks, “and where I come from people don’t come barging into an apartment unless they’re invited.”

“I’m sorry. I guess I was a little impulsive. I’m— This is important to me.”

“Manners are important to me,” I said, “and my sister is a lady.”

“Who said she wasn’t?”

“Your actions intimated as much.”

“Now, calm down, Junior,” he said. “I want to talk with you.”

“I’m not Junior,” I told him. “My name’s Donald and you get the hell out of that door, stand in the hallway and wait until you’re invited in or you don’t talk with anybody.”

“I thought it would be something like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“You made a play but you don’t dare to talk.”

“I thought I was talking,” I said. “I thought I said something. I told you to get back out in the corridor.”

I advanced toward him, holding the fork.

He squared his shoulders, braced himself, then thought better of it; turned, walked back out to the corridor and knocked on the door.

Elsie, who had been standing riveted to the spot, looked toward me for instructions.

Jewett said, “Oh, good evening, madam, I’m Harry Jewett. I’m sorry to bother you at this time of night but it’s a matter of some importance to me.

“I believe your brother witnessed an automobile accident about two months ago and I’d like very much to talk with him.”

Elsie rode along with the gag. “Why, how do you do, Mr. Jewett?” she said. “I’m Elsie Brand. Won’t you come in? My brother’s here now. He just came in.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much indeed,” Jewett said, and entered the apartment.

“How’s that?” he asked me.

“That,” I said, “is better. You’re early. I haven’t eaten.”

“Won’t you be seated?” Elsie asked.

“Thank you,” he said.

Under the bushy eyebrows his eyes bored into mine. “Would you mind telling me what you saw?” he asked.

I said, “I believe there was a reward mentioned.”

“Two hundred and fifty bucks,” he said.

“I don’t like to give anything away when the other man has put a price tag on it.”

“And I don’t want to pay out money for something I can’t use. You convince me that you saw the accident and you get two hundred and fifty bucks.”

“Fair enough,” I told him.

“All right, start talking.”

I said, “It was about three-thirty in the afternoon. I was in Colinda walking along the main street — I believe that’s what they call it, Main Street. I was going north on the left-hand side of the street and was between Eighth and Seventh Streets. In fact I was approaching the intersection of Seventh Street and was looking up at the traffic signal to see how it was going because I wanted to go over to the east side of Main street and wanted to time it so I could cross with the signal.”

“Go ahead,” he said.

“There was a string of cars — I’d guess about four — approaching the signal. The light turned from green to amber, and the car that was in the lead could have made it easily before the signal turned to red, but instead the driver lost his nerve and slammed on his brakes, hard . The car came to an almost instantaneous stop.