Andrew Vachss: Two Trains Running

The bellhop opened the door to the bathroom, turned on the taps, opened the medicine cabinet. Then he walked officiously to the windows and drew back the curtains, clearly on a tour of inspection.

“This here’s one of our very best rooms,” he told the guest. “Over to the front side, it can get real noisy, with all the traffic in the street. Back here, it stays nice and quiet.”

“It’ll be fine,” the guest said, handing over a dollar.

The bellhop’s smile broadened. Most professional travelers generally thought a quarter was generous. The action men, the gamblers and the hustlers, they always went for halves. Only Hoosiers and honeymooners tipped dollars. Rufus, who knew an omen when he saw one, resolved to play 809 when the numbers runner came by that afternoon.

“If there’s anything you need, sir, anything at all, you just ask for Rufus. Whatever you might want, I get it for you.”

“This a dry town?” the guest asked.

“No, sir. Truth is, folks comes here, they want to get themselves a taste.”

“Appreciate your honesty,” the guest said, handing over a ten-dollar bill. “This’ll buy me a fifth of Four Roses, then?”

“With plenty to spare, sir,” the bellhop confirmed. “I’ll be right back.”

On his way over to the liquor store a block away from the hotel, the bellhop congratulated himself on not lying about the easy availability of liquor in Locke City-the guest had asked the question as if he already knew the answer. Whoever he is, Rufus thought, he ain’t no Hoosier.

The man who had signed the register as Walker Dett tossed his two suitcases onto the double bed, gave the room a thirty-second sweep with his eyes, then picked up his attaché case and walked out into the corridor. He rang for the elevator.

“Going out already, suh?” the operator said, as the guest stepped into his car.

The man held up his hand in an unmistakable “Wait a minute” gesture. “I don’t want to go anywhere. Just want to talk to you for a couple of minutes, Moses.”

“Me, suh?”

“Yes, if you don’t mind.”

The operator turned his head, looking squarely at the man standing behind him. Waiting.

“My name’s Dett,” the tall man said, extending his hand to the operator. “Walker Dett.”

“It’s my pleasure to know you, Mr. Dett,” the operator said, palming the five-dollar bill as smoothly as he handled the elevator car. “Anything you need around here, you just-”

“You had time, size me up yet?”

“No, suh. It ain’t my place to be-”

“You’re a man who keeps his eyes open, I can tell.”

“Now, I don’t know nothing about that, suh. All I can see, you some kind of a businessman. A serious businessman,” the operator said. He kept his hand on the lever, ears alert for the buzzer which would summon the car.

“That’s right,” Dett said. “I’m here on business. And in my line of work, you know what’s really valuable?”

“No, suh.”

“Information. Every workingman needs his tools. And information, that’s a tool, isn’t it?”

“Sure could be, suh.”

“Some people, they think, in a hotel, it’s the desk clerk that knows everything that goes on. Others, they think it’s the bellhops. Some, they read too many paperback books, they think it’s the house dick. But you know what I think?”

“No, suh,” the elderly man said, evenly. “I don’t know what you think.”

“I think it’s not the job you do, it’s how long you’ve been doing it that makes you the man in the know. I think, a man gets to be a certain age, instead of people having respect, instead of them listening to him, they talk around him like he’s not even in the room. Like he’s wallpaper. A man like that, he gets to hear all kinds of things. You think I could be right?”

“Yes, suh. I believe you could be.”

“And a man like that, he’s not just worth something for what he knows; he’s worth double, because people don’t know he knows. Could I be right about that, too?”

“You surely could, suh.”

“You know what a ‘consultant’ is, Moses?”

“No, suh. I never heard of one.”

“Well, a consultant is a man you go to for advice. You ask him questions, he’s got answers. You ask him how to solve certain problems, he’s got the solutions. Man like that, he could make a good living, doing what he does.”

“Is that what you do, suh?”

“I think,” Dett said, tucking another five-dollar bill into the breast pocket of the operator’s blazer, “that’s what you do.”

The buzzer sounded. The two men exchanged a quick look. Dett stepped out of the elevator car, and the operator slid the lever to the “down” position.

1959 September 29 Tuesday 12:25

The knock on the door of Room 809 was that of an experienced bellhop-firm and deferential at the same time.

“Come on in,” Dett called from behind the partially opened bathroom door. He had positioned himself so that the medicine cabinet’s mirror gave him a clear view of the doorway. As the bellhop closed the door behind him, Dett slipped the derringer he had been holding into the pocket of his slacks and came out, giving his hands a finishing touch with the washcloth he carried.

“Here’s your liquor, sir. I don’t know how you takes it, so I brought you some ice, just in case,” the bellhop said, holding up a small chrome bucket.

At a nod from Dett, the bellhop placed the bottle and the ice bucket on top of a chest of drawers. Next to it, he ostentatiously deposited the change from the ten dollars he had been entrusted with.

“There’s too much there,” Dett said.

“Too much? But, sir, you said a fifth.”

“Too much money, Rufus,” Dett said. “You’re about a dollar heavy, the way I see it.”

“Thank you, sir,” the bellhop said. “I could tell you was a gent from the minute you checked in. You want me to pour you one now?”

“Just about so much,” Dett said, indicating a generous inch with his thumb and forefinger. “Over the rocks.”

“There you go, sir.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, sir. If you need anything else…?”

“What hours do you work?”

“Me? Well, my regular shift is six to six. But I never mind putting in no extra time, if it’s needed. Everybody got to do that, even Mister Carl-that’s the deskman.”

“I got it,” Dett said, carrying his drink over to the room’s only easy chair and sitting down. It was clearly a dismissal.

The bellhop started for the door, then turned slightly, his eyes on the carpet. “Sir, what I said about needing anything else? That don’t have to be from the hotel, sir.”

“I don’t want any-”

“No, sir, I understand. Man like you, he don’t want no colored girl. But I got kind of an… arrangement, like. Make one phone call, get you anything up here you might want.”

“I’ll remember,” Dett said.

1959 September 29 Tuesday 12:36

As soon as the bellhop left, Dett closed the curtains. Then he opened the smaller of his two suitcases, took out a wooden wedge, and walked over to the door. He kicked the wedge under the door, then turned the knob and pulled it toward him. Even against strong pressure, the wedge held securely.

Turning his back on the door, Dett moved to the window, parted the curtains a slit, and peered outside. He glanced at his watch, then carried the untouched bourbon into the bathroom and emptied it into the sink, ran hot water over the ice cubes, and returned the unwashed glass to the top of the bureau. Moving methodically, he filled a second glass with fresh ice cubes and added tap water.

From the larger suitcase, Dett took a box of soda crackers. He drank a little of the water, then began eating, alternating the slow, thorough chewing of each bite with a sip of water.