Andrew Vachss - Two Trains Running

Finished, he took a series of shallow breaths through his nose, pressing the first two fingers of each hand hard against his diaphragm as he exhaled.

Dett closed his eyes. A nerve jumped in his right cheek, so forcefully that it lifted the corner of his mouth. He continued the breathing, going deeper and deeper, until he fell asleep.

1959 September 29 Tuesday 17:09

When Dett opened his eyes, the room was dark, but it was the artificial darkness of closed curtains. The luminescent dial on his wristwatch told him it was just past five; his body told him that it was afternoon. Dett got up, used the bathroom, and drank another glass of water.

Crossing over to the far wall, Dett again parted the curtains. He tried both windows, found they opened easily but only went up less than halfway, held in place by metal stoppers in the channels. Behind the hotel was an alley, on the other side of which was the back side of an undistinguished brick building.

Dett took a street map from his suitcase, turning it in his hands until he was oriented to his own location. Office building, he said to himself, looking out the window. Probably goes dark after they close for the day.

Dett picked up the phone, dialed “0,” and told the hotel operator he wanted the front desk.

Connected, he asked the foppish clerk if he could get a sandwich sent up to his room.

“Certainly, Mr. Dett,” the desk clerk said, pridefully. “At the Claremont, our kitchen is always open until one in the morning, for anything from a snack to a full-course meal. And you can get a breakfast order anytime after six as well. Just tell me what you’d like, and I’ll have it sent right up.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Dett said. He ordered a steak sandwich, a side of French fries, and two bottles of Coke. Then he undressed, took a quick shower, and put on fresh clothes.

When the knock came, twenty minutes later, Dett wasn’t surprised to see Rufus on the other side of the threshold.

“You do all kinds of work around here, don’t you?” he said to the bellhop.

“I tell you the truth, sir. They got a boy in the kitchen, supposed to deliver meals to guests. But I got this…”

“Arrangement?” Dett said, smiling thinly.

“Yes, sir. I see you know how things work in hotels.”

“How much of a piece does that Nancy-boy take?”

“Mister Carl? The way he work it, end of my shift, every dollar I get, he supposed to get a dime.”

“He must do all right for himself, then.”

“You mean, he got the same deal with all the boys? Yes, sir. He sure do. Man like him, he in a powerful position around here.”

“Knows what’s going on, huh?”

“Knows it all, sir. I swear, sometimes I think he got secret passageways or something. We had this little game going in the basement,” the bellhop said, miming shaking a pair of dice in his closed hand. “Just a few of the boys, on our break, you know? Well, one day, I come into work, Mister Carl, he tells me there’s a toll due. You see how he is?”

“Not yet, I don’t.”

“I don’t follow you, sir.”

“How much of a toll was he charging?”

“Oh. Well, he said it would cost a dollar.”

“For every game.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So you stopped playing down there.”

“That’s right. How you know-? I mean, I apologize, sir. I didn’t mean no backtalk. Just surprised, is all.”

“Remember you asked me, did I see how he was? The desk clerk? Well, now I see how he is. Dumb.”

“Dumb? No, sir. Mister Carl, he a pretty slick-”

“If he charged you a quarter for every game, how much would he have made?”

“Well, we used to play every day, so…”

“Right. And how much is he getting from your games, now?”

“He ain’t… Oh, I see where you coming from, sir. Mister Carl, maybe he not so smart after all.”

“Let’s see if you are,” Dett said, handing the bellhop two one-dollar bills. “If Carl gets a piece of this, I’ll be real disappointed in you, Rufus.”

“You ain’t gonna have no cause to ever be disappointed in me, sir. My momma only raised but one fool, and that was my brother.”

1959 September 29 Tuesday 18:19

The guest in Room 809 opened the steak sandwich carefully.

He removed the lettuce and tomato, examining each in turn. Dett rolled his right shoulder-a small knife slid out of his sleeve and into his hand. He thumbed the knife open, then meticulously trimmed the outer edges of the lettuce, cored the slice of tomato, and removed every visible trace of fat from the meat before he reassembled the sandwich.

Dett picked up all the discarded pieces, carried them to the bathroom, and dropped them into the toilet. He flushed, checked to see if everything had disappeared, then washed his hands.

It took him almost forty-five minutes to eat the sandwich and French fries. He spaced sips of Coke evenly throughout, taking the final one after he swallowed the last of the sandwich.

Dett poured approximately three shots of the Four Roses into a glass. He carried it to the bathroom, emptied the contents into the toilet, and flushed again.

Then he sat and waited for darkness to bloom.

1959 September 29 Tuesday 21:09

Walker Dett washed his hands again, put on a tie, pocketed his room key, and walked out into the corridor.

“Evening, suh,” the elevator operator said, as he slid back the grillework for Dett to enter.

“Evening, Moses,” the man said. “I think I’ll take a little walk, help me digest my dinner.”

“Yes, suh,” said the operator, sliding the lever toward the “down” position.

Dett stepped close to the operator, holding out his palm and tilting his head in a “Wait a minute” gesture. The operator’s hand stopped the lever a fraction short of engagement.

“This elevator, it goes all the way to the basement?” Dett said, quietly.

“No, suh. Only the service car goes there.”

“But there’s no operator for that one, right?”

“That’s right,” the elderly man said, not surprised this quiet-voiced stranger would know such things.

“Can anyone just get in and run it, or do you need a key?”

“Used to be, like you say, anyone could just use it. But when Mister Carl took over-that was a few years after the war, if I remember right-he said that wouldn’t do. So now, you want to use the freight car, you got to ask Mister Carl, and he loans you the key.”

“But he’s not the only one who has one?”

“Oh no, suh. Nothing could run if things was like that. Plenty folks got keys. They has one in the kitchen, the maintenance man has one, the maids-they don’t like them riding the same cars as the guests, you know-the house cop… lots of folks, I bet. Me, I got one myself.”

“Thanks, Moses,” Dett said, moving his head slightly. The operator moved the lever a notch, and the car began to descend.

1959 September 29 Tuesday 21:59

Dett left the elevator car and walked over to the front desk.

“Everything satisfactory, Mr. Dett?” the clerk asked.

“It’s fine,” Dett assured him. “I was just going to take a little walk, work off my dinner.” He patted his stomach for emphasis. “A little fresh air never hurt anyone.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” the desk clerk said. “In fact, I’m somewhat of a physical-culture enthusiast myself.”

Dett nodded slightly, as if acknowledging the obvious. “This area,” he asked, “it’s safe at night?”

“This part of town? Absolutely! Now, there are some sections I certainly wouldn’t go myself, even in broad daylight. I’m sure you know what I mean…?”

“Sure.”

“So long as you stay within, oh, a ten-block radius, I’d say, you’ll find Locke City a wonderfully quiet town,” Carl said, smoothly.