Peter Rabe - A Shroud for Jesso

“Why’s he hiding?”

“I remind you, Jesso-”

“The hell with that!” Jesso was up now. “Let me remind you of something. If Snell’s on the lam because you’re gunning for him, that’s one kind of job. If he’s got something you want, that’s another. I wanna know if he’s laying for me ready to kill, or ready to argue, or just lying there scared stiff.” Jesso took a deep breath. “So let’s have some answers.”

“Joseph Snell is most likely scared stiff, as you call it, and I want him found because I must speak to him.” Kator raised his small hands and put the fingertips together. “Whether he is likely to take a shot at you, that is something you may tell me about after you’ve found him.” Kator shifted in his chair. “Now then, what else do you need to know?”

“Has Snell got any friends in town?”

“Really, Jesso. We’ve explored that angle.”

“Has he?”

“No. He has been with me for a number of years. We met in Europe and his ties in the States were severed long ago.”

“How long?”

“The early thirties. In fact, he used to know a man called Bonetti. I mention the name because you and this Bonetti are in a similar-uh-field.”

Jesso started to pace the room. “Hell, Bonetti’s dead. He died-Wait a minute.”

Jesso had forgotten about Kator and Gluck, about the stupid way this punk job had been thrown at him. He wasn’t thinking of any of this because now he had started to work. Jesso went to the phone and dialed long-distance.

“Give me Las Vegas, the Sagebrush. I want to talk to Mr. P. Carter… Yeah, person to person. And call me back.” He gave his number and hung up. Next he called Murph, who was repairing the carburetor on one of Gluck’s cars. Murph got the call in the basement garage.

“Murph? Jack. Listen. Put out the word I want a guy that’s on the lam. He’s from out of town. His name’s Joseph Snell, might be using his own. Now, this guy’s an outsider, and-Kator, what’s Snell look like?”

Kator had been watching without a word. He gave an involuntary start. “Short, thin black hair. His hands tremble, a condition he has. Eyes blue and somewhat protruding. He-“

“That’s good enough. Murph? Listen,” and Jesso repeated the description. “Call the usual places and let me know when you hear something, Murph… To hell with his carburetor. Let him get a mechanic

… No, right now, and get to it.”

Jesso hung up. He stared right through Kator, and there was a concentrated frown on his face.

“Do you propose to conduct your search from my telephone, Jesso?”

“Why, you short of money?”

“I’m trying to appraise your methods.”

Jesso put his hands in his pockets. “Look, Kator, why’d you come to Gluck for this job if you don’t think we can do it?”

“I didn’t. It was Mr. Gluck that suggested the arrangement.”

“What?”

“You are surprised? My original business with Gluck had to do with other matters. I have a ship in the East River and my business required special docking procedures, and Mr. Gluck’s-uh-unique influence over docking matters-“

“You mean Gluck dreamed up this job in the first place?”

“No. The job was there. I mentioned my efforts to find this associate, and Mr. Gluck suggested that you might help.”

Not until then did it occur to Jesso just how badly Gluck wanted him out. That grinning bastard even went out of his way to hunt up a bum job for Jesso.

The phone rang, but Jesso didn’t move. For a moment he felt pushed into a corner, squeezed from every side by Gluck, the thing he stood for, the big, invisible strength of the syndicate.

“Jesso, the phone is ringing.”

He reached for the receiver and said, “Yes, hello.” It sounded a little sharp.

“I am ready with your call to Las Vegas. Go ahead, please.”

“Hello. That you, Carter?”

“Jackie, how are ya? You’re hardly home and already-”

“Listen close, Paul. I got business. You remember Bonetti?”

“Bonetti?”

“Yeah, yeah, Bonetti. Twenty years ago. You’re old enough to remember.”

“Oh, Bonetti! Sure, I remember him.”

“You knew him pretty good, didn’t you?”

“A little business here and there.”

“So listen. He had a punk in his crowd called Snell. Joseph Snell.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Sort of short, popeyed.”

“Never heard of him, Jackie.”

“All right, all right. Snell was in his crowd, though. Who’s still around that Snell might know?”

There was silence for a moment and then Carter said, “Bonetti’s dead.”

“I didn’t ask that, damn it!”

“There was Pickles, but he’s on the rock.”

“Bonetti had a brother, didn’t he?”

“That’s right. But, Christ, he must be seventy or something. Besides, he never hung around much. Did the fencing, is all.”

“And kept a hideout for the boys, didn’t he?”

“That’s right. But he must be over-”

“Never mind. What happened to him?”

“Christ, Jackie, I wouldn’t know.”

“Who would? Think, Paul.”

“He had a daughter. Cook’s the married name.”

“Here in New York?”

“I think so. At least, five years ago I remember-”

“O.K., Paul, thanks a million.”

Jesso hung up. He turned to Kator, who had lit a cigar and stood by the window watching Jesso.

“I need a phone book, Kator. Manhattan first.”

“To your left, in the drawer.” Kator rolled the cigar between his lips and watched Jesso.

There was a long string of Cooks, and Jesso felt disgusted before he started. Then the phone rang. “This is Murph. May I speak-“

“It’s me, Murph. So?”

“I checked around by phone, Jackie, and so far nothing. Nobody’s seen anything like that Snell guy around. And I meant to tell ya, Jackie, Gluck came down and the car wasn’t ready. So I tried to explain to him how you-“

“To hell with Gluck. What else?”

“I sent a few guys checking the flops and got some names for you. Names of guys what used to keep a hole in the wall for special guests.”

“Let’s have it.”

“Well, there’s that farmer Cook, out near Nyack.”

“You say Cook?”

“Yes, Jackie. He’s in New Orleans right now, due back in a week. Then there’s Murrow, Able-sometimes, anyway-another Cook, Jenowitch-“

“That’s enough. Stay at Gluck’s place and I’ll be right over.”

“O.K., Jackie, but I wanted to tell you, Gluck was sore when his car wasn’t-“

“Forget it. And wait for me.”

Jesso hung up. This job was going to be over so fast that Gluck was going to have sleepless nights thinking of bigger and better ways to get under Jesso’s skin.

“Where are you going?” Kator was still by the window.

“To find your man. I’ll phone you.”

“Just a moment.” Kator was in the middle of the room when Jesso turned. “You will take one of my men with you. As I explained to you earlier-”

Jesso stopped at the door. He made it short. “I work alone. Send one of your monkeys and you won’t find your man for weeks. I’ll see to that.” He slammed the door.

The other Cook lived in Brooklyn. After Jesso had taken Murph’s list, he decided on the Cook in Brooklyn first. Murph had finished with the carburetor in the meantime, so Jesso took Gluck’s car.

The address was a store that said, “Notions.” The dim insides hung full of dusty dresses, and everything looked twice as cheap where a naked bulb made a glitter on the boxes of fancy buttons. When Jesso came in, a fat woman with an apron over her coat was scratching a fingernail over the plastic eye of a button. “No, thanks, dearie, it ain’t what I want,” she said. Her other hand dropped something into her pocket. “No, dearie, this ain’t the right color,” she said, and left through the door.