Peter Rabe - Benny Muscles In

The woman in the kitchen was eating stew when the hall door opened. It made a cracking sound as it caught on the latch chain. The woman had started to get up, but now she sat down again.

“Open this goddamn door,” a voice said, and a short gun nozzle appeared through the crack.

The woman didn’t move. “Who is it?” she said.

“It’s Fingers, beautiful.” The gun made a poke.

“You sonofabitch,” said the woman, saying it as if she were alone. When she had the door open the man came in and put the gun in his pocket. His face was pale and he had hardly any lips.

“Greetings,” he said, and smiled. “Is she here?”

“Who?”

“My master’s daughter.”

The woman stepped aside and went back to her stew.

Fingers didn’t find Pat in the first room, so he stepped into the next. They had turned the lights on and Pat was combing her hair.

“Greetings,” Fingers said.

Pat whirled around, but her face stayed even. She arched back and threw the small comb at the man.

He ducked and said, “Your father wants you.”

There was a pause and then Pat yelled, “No!”

Fingers only smiled.

“No!” she said again.

Red got off the bed and came toward Fingers, who took his hands out of his pockets. When Red was close enough, Fingers swung at his face, and Red fell back against the bed. He stayed there, smiling in his dim way.

Pat shrugged and let Fingers take her back to her father’s apartment. It was four in the morning, but Pendleton looked the way he always did. He sat straight in his chair in the library, hands placed on top of the desk.

Pat leaned over the desk and looked him in the face. “Well? I’m back. I was through, anyway.”

Pendleton stiffened, but either he didn’t know what she meant or he tried to ignore it. “Please, Pat, sit down. Please.” He smiled weakly.

She sat on the edge of the desk, dangling one leg. Pendleton got up and started to pace. “Patricia, please understand me. When you are unhappy it makes me unhappy too. And when you left earlier tonight, our misunderstanding-”

“Misunderstanding! My whole rotten life is a misunderstanding! Ever since I can remember-”

“Patty, please! You know I must be both a father and a mother to you. I have always tried my best to give you all that other children have and more. I-”

She laughed. “Children! Who’s the child around here? Who’s ever been a child around here?” Her voice got that high, metallic ring. “I’m over twenty-one, I get thrown out of parties, and I’ve got a father who sends his crooked underlings spying after me.” She jumped off the desk and stood, fists balled. “What is it you want from me? What is it you’re trying to do?” She stopped for breath.

“My dearest,” Pendleton sounded pained. “Only my best-”

“Your best?” It was almost a sob. “You call it your best to give me a name that’s like a stink to people who really count, a name that’s suspected behind every big and rotten thing that’s ever come this way?” She flung her arms in a dramatic gesture. “Oh, sure, among your cronies Pendleton probably means something big and holy, but to me it’s nothing but a mess, a muddle, and a lot of muck on my face.”

“Patricia!”

“Don’t Patricia me!” she shouted. “And then you even have the gall to send your creeps around to keep me pure and out of trouble. I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to say there are certain places your daughter is not to go, and certain people she isn’t to see. Bah! You’re a fine example. My daddy is such a fine-”

“That’s enough, Patricia!”

His tone stopped her for the moment, but it didn’t scare her. “How did you know where I was, Daddy?” She gave him a cold smile.

“I didn’t I simply sent-”

“Do you know where I was, Daddy?”

“No, nor do I care. I suspected, considering your mood, that you ran out to consort with these jazz people you have been seen with. I instructed my man to make inquiries.”

She laughed again, and reached for a cigarette in her pocket. “Your man wasn’t inquiring. He busted in on me.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She lit the cigarette and dropped the match on the floor. “Don’t worry. I was dressed.” She blew smoke.

“Patricia!” There was angry, old-maidish shock in Pendleton’s voice. “Where did he find you?”

“A private club.”

Pendleton drew himself up and walked behind the desk. He sat down. “I am not interested in the details, Patricia, but didn’t you meet a man named Harvey in that-that crowd once?”

“Not tonight.”

“Of course not.” Pendleton sounded now if he were talking on the telephone. “This Harvey, Patricia, is no longer a free man.”

“Do tell.”

“It may come as a shock to you, but I happen to know he was a dope addict.” Pendleton paused and Pat didn’t answer. “That is the kind of scum I want to protect you from!”

She crushed out her cigarette. When her head came up and she looked at her father there was a small smile on her face. “You sell the stuff, don’t you?”

Pendleton jerked up out of his chair and for a moment he seemed about to strike her. Pat held still. Her face never changed. “Don’t you?” she said.

Then he turned away and he stood almost motionless, except for his breathing. When he turned to face Pat again his face was a hard mask. He rubbed his hands together slowly, producing a sound like that of scales.

“As your father I forbid you to see certain things, say certain things, do certain things. If you wish, you can try to oppose me. It will do no good, Patricia, and will hurt my love for you. I even tell you what I would do. First, I would stop your allowance. Next-”

She threw her head back and laughed. “I can always-”

“I’m not finished. Next I would send you back to the sisters. That school has-”

“You think I’d stay?”

“I have asked you not to interrupt me. However, you tell me that you would not obey.” He came around to stand before her and his voice was ominous, so that she held still while he took her hands. “Patricia, do you remember where your mother died?” He lowered his head to hers. “In a sanatorium, Patricia.”

The girl stared at her father, her light eyes large and anxious.

“And if I cannot guide you, my own daughter-”

He did not have to finish his threat, because Pat crumbled. She leaned across the desk, head down, and pounded her fist on the top with the insistence of an automaton. Her teeth were clenched and she held her breath.

Then Pendleton put his hands on her shoulders and spoke with the gentleness he kept for his daughter. “I’m sorry, my dear. I’m sorry to frighten you. I only want your happiness, your well-being.”

“I understand.” She sounded surprisingly controlled, and there was a weird matter-of-factness in her tone. “May I go now?”

“My dear-”

“Please. Let go. Can I have the car to drive back to school?”

“You’ve had no sleep, Patricia.”

“Exam week. I’ve got to get back.”

“I’ll have someone drive you.”

“Thank you.”

“Good night, my dear.”

“Good night,” she said, and closed the door when she left.

Benny knew the city well and for a while nobody found him. He laid low and didn’t leave the room he had taken except at night. He walked the streets, figuring on his moves and waiting for the time.

The nights were getting warmer. He walked past the little shops with the black windows and the big warehouses near the river, and his steps sounded like the only steps in the world. Then the waiting became like a fever and he walked faster, until the feeling passed and he turned back to his room with the damp spot on the ceiling and the bed with the musty Army blanket.