A. Fair - The Bigger They Come

The woman said, ‘Give him a shot of whisky, Fred.’

‘Brandy’s better,’ Fred said. ‘Brandy will pick him right up. Get some of that seventy-five-year-old stuff, a big snifter of it. Don’t be afraid of giving him too much. He’s been knocked around a bit and it will take something to get him back to normal. He’s a little bit light to take heavy punches like that. That one I hung on his jaw was pretty good. How is it, buddy? No teeth gone — that’s fine. The jaw’s sore, of course. It will be for a while.’

Madge came back with a big snifter of brandy. Fred said, ‘This is the chief’s favorite. He likes to dawdle around sipping it after meals, but you take it and gulp it right down. He says this is sacrilege, but you need it. Here we go, buddy.’

I drank the brandy. It was smooth as sirup. It traced a hot streak down into my stomach, and then began radiating little branches of warmth which tingled along the nerves.

Fred said, ‘All right, up we go. Now we’ll get that coat on, and into the car. Any particular place you want to be taken, buddy?’

I was weak and groggy. I gave him the address of my rooming house.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘My rooming house.’

‘That’s fine. We’ll take you there.’

I saw him exchange glances with the woman. Fred helped me up, and I walked out into the other room. The chief came walking toward me, his face wreathed in blubbery smiles. ‘Well, well,’ he said. ‘You certainly look a thousand per cent better, and that’s a mighty becoming tie! Yes, sir! It certainly is. My wife gave me that tie for Christmas last year.’

He threw back his head, and laughter bubbled forth. He quit laughing and grabbed my hand in his. He pumped it up and down and said, ‘Lam, you were splendid! You’ve got plenty of nerve, my boy, plenty of nerve. You’ve got what it takes. I wish I had a few men like you. You don’t feel like telling us anything?’

‘No,’ I said.

‘I can’t blame you, my boy. I can’t blame you a bit.’

He kept pumping my arm. ‘Take him wherever he wants to go, Fred,’ he said, ‘and be careful with him. Don’t drive too fast. Remember he’s sore. All right, Lam, my boy, perhaps I’ll see you later. Who can tell? No hard feelings, Lam. Tell me there’s no hard feelings.’

‘No hard feelings,’ I said. ‘You beat me up, and God damn you, if I ever get a chance to get even I’ll pour it to you.’

For a minute his eyes hardened. Then he bubbled into effusive laughter: ‘That’s the spirit, my boy, the old fighting spirit! Head bloody but unbowed, and all that sort of stuff. Too bad he hasn’t a little more beef, Fred. He’d have given you a tussle for a fact. He came up out of that chair as though he’d been shot from a gun.’

‘Aw, he was awkward, and he couldn’t swat a fly hard enough to hurt it,’ Fred said, ‘but he has guts, that boy.’

‘Well, take him up town. Just be certain that he doesn’t try to locate the house so he can find his way back to it. You know, Lam, it’s been a nice visit, and we don’t want to seem inhospitable, but if you come back here again we’d much rather you came with us than with someone else.’

And he roared with laughter at his own joke.

Fred said, ‘Come on, buddy. Put this handkerchief over your eyes, and away we go.’

He blindfolded me, and he on one side, the chief on the other, led me back through the hallway, down the stairs, and into the car. A garage door went up and I shot out into the night. The fresh air felt good on my face. After we’d been riding about five minutes Bill took off the blindfold and said, ‘Just settle right back against the cushions, Lam. I’ll drive slow.’

He was a skillful driver, and he threaded the car through traffic until he came to my rooming house. I saw him looking it over. He parked the car, opened the door, and helped me up the steps. Mrs. Smith opened the door, and looked at me. Her look was eloquent. A roomer who hadn’t been able to pay rent for five weeks being brought home drunk.

Fred said, ‘Now don’t look like that, madam. The boy’s all right. He’s been shaken up in an automobile accident, that’s all. He’ll want to go up to his room and lie down.’

She came closer and sniffed my breath. ‘That certainly was an automobile accident,’ she said. ‘He must have run into a truckload of whisky.’

‘Brandy, ma’am,’ Fred said. ‘The very choicest seventy-five year-old brandy. That was a shot of the chief’s private stock given to him to brace him up.’

‘I got a job today,’ I told her.

I saw her eyes lighten. ‘How about the rent?’ she asked.

‘Next week,’ I said, ‘when I get paid.’

She sniffed and said, ‘A job. I suppose you’re celebrating.’

I fumbled around in my pocket and produced the certificate of appointment as a private investigator which Bertha Cool had given me. She looked it over, said, ‘A private detective, huh?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t think much of you as a detective.’

Fred said, ‘Now don’t be too sure, ma’am. He’s got nerve, that boy has. He’ll make a success in anything. He has plenty of what it takes. Well, good night, Lam. I’ll be seeing you again one of these days.’

He turned and went down the stairs. I said to Mrs. Smith, ‘Quick, get the license number on that automobile,’ and as she hesitated, added, ‘He owes me some money. I can pay the room rent if I get it.’

With that incentive, she walked out to stand on the porch. Fred went away from there with a rush. She came back and said, ‘I’m not certain. The number was either 5N1525 or 5M1525.’

I fumbled around until I found a pencil, wrote both numbers down on a piece of paper, and hobbled up the three flights of stairs. She stood looking after me, and said, ‘Don’t forget it, Mr. Lam, I can use that room rent just as soon as you get it.’

‘I won’t,’ I told her. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.’

A steady, insistent pounding on my door dragged me from oblivion into stupefied semi-consciousness. I heard the voice of my landlady saying, ‘Mr. Lam — oh, Mr. Lam — Mr. Lam. Get up.’

I reached out for the light. My body felt as though it would break in two. I found the light, switched it on, and limped to the door of the little attic bedroom.

The landlady had on a faded green wrapper which made her look like sacked potatoes. The white fringe of a flannel nightgown burst out from beneath the wrapper. She said in a voice shrill with indignation, ‘I don’t know what this new job of yours is, but I’ve put up with just about enough! I’ve let you get weeks behind with the room rent, and now―’

‘What is it?’ I interrupted, and when I tried to talk my swollen nose and lips made my face feel wooden.

‘It’s a woman on the telephone who says she has to talk with you. She keeps screaming into my ear that it’s a matter of life and death. The phone’s been ringing and ringing and ringing It’s woke up everyone in the house. And I’ve had to climb three flights of stairs and stand here banging on the door until―’

‘I’m much obliged, Mrs. Smith,’ I said.

‘Obliged, eh?’ she sniffed. ‘Great goings on to wake everyone up and―’

I forced my tortured body into action, dove back into the room, grabbed a bathrobe, flung it over my pajamas, and kicked my feet into slippers. It seemed an interminable distance down the hall. Alma was all I could think of. I hoped it was Bertha Cool with some new assignment. I knew she was quite capable of doing that very thing, but— The receiver was dangling from the cord. I grabbed it up, placed it to my ear, said, ‘Hello,’ and heard Alma’s voice. ‘Oh, Donald, I’m so glad I reached you. Something awful’s happened.’