Evan Hunter - Every Little Crook and Nanny

“So what should I do?” Benny said.

“I have the feeling you’re not telling me the whole story,” The Silver Fox said wisely. “Otherwise, there is no question about what you should do. You should take one of those fifty-thousand-dollar bundles to Naples, and you should spend the other one. Mario Azzecca is never going to admit to anybody in the entire world that he made such a mistake, believe me.”

“Suppose he does, Silvio? Suppose he comes to me and says he wants the money back?”

“So? Are you tongue-tied? Do you stutter? You tell him, What money? I got only one fifty-thousand-dollar bundle, which I took it to Naples like you told me, and I gave it to the guy I met at the airport, and I came back here, and here I am, so what money are you talking about? The money you are talking about has already been signed, sealed, and delivered. That’s what you tell him. If he comes to see you. Whereas he won’t anyway.”

“Well, maybe,” Benny said.

“No maybes.” The Silver Fox raised his eyeglasses onto his forehead and peered across the table at Benny. “What is it you’re withholding from me, Benny? I’m your friend, you can tell me.”

“I don’t want to get you involved, Silvio.”

“Why not?”

“Because you are my friend, and this could mean trouble for the people involved.”

“What are friends for,” The Silver Fox asked, “if not to share each other’s troubles?”

“No, please, I don’t want to burden you.”

“I’m your friend,” The Silver Fox said. “Whatever it is, I’ll try to help you.”

“No,” Benny said, shaking his head, “no, really.”

“Tell me,” The Silver Fox said. “You can trust me.”

“Well...”

“Tell me.”

“Well,” Benny said, “Carmine Ganucci’s son has been kidnaped.”

“Why’d you tell me that?” The Silver Fox said, leaping to his feet. “You want to get me in trouble? What kind of friend are you?”

“They want fifty G’s for his safe return,” Benny said.

“Don’t tell me, don’t tell me,” The Silver Fox said, covering his ears.

“I tried to buy some phony bills, but...”

“Don’t tell me!”

A knock sounded on the door.

“Thank God,” The Silver Fox said, and hurried to answer it. Benny sat morosely at the long table covered with stolen silver, listening to the voices in the entrance foyer. He did not think it would be safe to keep the second fifty thousand dollars, as his friend Silvio had advised. Maybe nobody likes to be reminded of his mistakes, but when somebody’s involved who’s already made a mistake, the person making the second mistake might think he had an edge in asking the person who made the first mistake to correct the second mistake, or so Benny reasoned. Besides, keeping the fifty thousand had never crossed his mind. Well, it had crossed it. But only fleetingly. Those that much covet are with gain so fond, for what they have not, that which they possess they scatter and unloose it from their bond, and so, by hoping more, they have but less, Benny quoted silently, and sighed. The only thing that had actually lingered in his mind was the idea of using the second fifty thousand to ransom Ganooch’s son. Then, if Mario Azzecca did come to him and say, “Hey, Benny Napkins, where’s that second fifty thousand dollars?” Benny could answer, “I used it to ransom Ganooch’s son,” which was a worthy cause.

“Do you know Dominick the Guru?” The Silver Fox asked.

Benny turned and looked at the young man standing in the doorway to the living room. “Yes, I believe we’ve met,” he said, “but that was before you had the beard and the long hair.”

“How do you like it this way?” Dominick said, walking over and shaking hands.

“It’s becoming,” Benny said.

“It’s becoming too long,” The Silver Fox said, wagging his head. “Nice Italian boy.”

“Bloomingdales doesn’t like it neither,” Dominick said. “By the way,” he added, turning to The Silver Fox, “he said to tell you he hopes you get hit by a subway.”

“Why?” The Silver Fox asked. “Because his sister’s a no-good whore? Whereas everybody knows that anyway?”

“I’m merely conveying his regards,” Dominick said. Boy, what bullshit, he thought.

“What have you brought me?” The Silver Fox asked. He noticed Dominick’s sidelong glance and quickly said, “You can trust Benny. He’s an old friend.”

Dominick studied him for a moment, and then went out into the foyer again.

“What shall I do?” Benny whispered to The Silver Fox.

“About what?”

“About Ganooch’s son?”

“I never heard nothing about Ganooch’s son.”

“I just told you...”

“I don’t even know if he has a son or not. Has he got a son? Never mind, don’t tell me.”

Dominick came back into the room, carrying a suitcase which he hoisted onto the long wooden table. “Lots of nice stuff here,” he said, and opened the bag. The Silver Fox picked up a magnifying glass, and began examining the pieces.

“Did you see this?” Dominick asked Benny.

“What is it?” Benny asked.

“A wrist watch,” Dominick said, and handed it to him.

“Very nice,” Benny said, and looked at it distractedly.

“Who’s that whose picture’s on the watch?” The Silver Fox asked.

“That’s the Vice-President,” Dominick said.

“Herbert Humphrey? It don’t even look like him,” The Silver Fox said.

Benny was about to return the watch to Dominick when, for no reason whatever, for no good reason that he could think of, he turned it over and looked at the back. There was an inscription on the case. The inscription read:

“Where did you get this watch!” Benny shouted.

In a blue Plymouth sedan borrowed from his old friend Arthur Doppio, Snitch drove up to Larchmont that afternoon to pay a visit to the Ganucci governess. He had been promised twenty-five dollars if he could come up with information Bozzaris did not already possess, and Snitch was not a man to let twenty-five dollars slip away quite that easily. He drove up the long tree-lined driveway to Many Maples, parked the car in the oval before the sumptuous front entrance, walked onto the flagstone portico, admired the brass escutcheon with the single word Ganucci inscribed upon it, and then rang the bell and waited.

Nanny opened the door immediately, almost as if she had been standing behind it and waiting for expected company. When she saw Snitch, her face fell.

“Yes?” she said.

“Nanny,” Snitch said, “I think I have some further information about that felony you say was committed Tuesday night.”

“Yes?” she said.

“Yes. Would it be all right if I came in? You never know who’s hiding in the bushes these days.”

“Come in,” she said, and because it was exactly two P.M., the clocks in the living room all tolled the hour, Bong, Bong, and were finished almost before they began. Snitch looked at his wrist watch.

“Three minutes slow,” he said, and followed Nanny into the study. “Very nice place Ganooch has here,” he remarked.

“Yes,” Nanny said. “What information have you got for me?”

“I know there’s fifty thousand dollars involved,” Snitch said, referring to the cable he had seen on Mario Azzecca’s desk. Judging from the way Nanny went suddenly pale, he suspected he had struck pay dirt.

Her hand went to her throat. In a tiny, quiet voice, she said, “Yes, that’s right.”