Lawrence Block - Ronald Rabbit Is a Dirty Old Man

At least you’ll be able to get away from time to time. Whenever you get a chance to come into the city, please do. You can always stay overnight at our place. Rozanne is anxious to meet you.

From the desk of Clayton Finch, President

Mr. George Ribbentraub

Ribbentraub Realty Corp.

414 East 14 thStreet

New York 10003

Dear Mr. Ribbentraub:

Mr. Hector Carbo has given your name as a reference, and I would greatly appreciate your giving me any pertinent information on the man’s employment record with you, plus any general remarks you might care to offer concerning his character and personal habits.

The post for which Mr. Carbo is under consideration carries a considerable load of executive responsibility and calls for keen all-around judgment and accomplished editorial skills. Should we decide to employ Mr. Carbo, he will take the helm of Rachel Rabbit’s Magazine for Girls and Boys . This publication, while essentially a revamped version of a proven success, is in other respects a new venture entirely, oriented as it is towards Women’s Liberation for the junior set. We feel very strongly about its potential, not only as a highly marketable item but as one which may beneficially influence contemporary American culture.

In this light, I would appreciate any information which may reflect on Mr. Carbo’s suitability or lack thereof.

CF/rg

From the desk of Clayton Finch, President

Mr. Laurence Clarke

74 Bleecker Street

New York 10012

Dear Mr. Clarke:

You go too far, Mr. Clarke.

I had begun to think that this unilateral war directed against me was over. It seems you are determined to persist in it. As the result of your latest folly, I found myself entangled in a completely hysterical conversation with a person named Ribbentraub, who wanted to know why I wanted to hire some Puerto Rican janitor as a magazine editor. I had a great deal of trouble disengaging myself from this lunatic but ultimately managed to convince him of what I suspected myself, that the whole affair was the result of an innocent misunderstanding.

Innocent!

Mr. Ribbentraub, however, was not so easily put off. He promptly mailed me a letter which he had received, typed on my own letterhead with my own signature rather inexpertly forged on the bottom of it. I might still have been in the dark but for your use of the Rachel Rabbit’s nonsense, which instantly identified the perpetrator of the deed as yourself.

I could even forgive this last, Clarke, but for an even more grievous effort on your part, which I uncovered only through further communication with poor Ribbentraub. I called him to attribute this madness to you, and to persuade him to give me your forwarding address. This he did, and I thus discovered that you had the temerity to supply him with the address of my secretary, Miss Gumbino.

For heaven’s sake, Clarke, what’s the point of this sort of nonsense? Why besmirch the name of an innocent girl simply to gratify your sense of the ridiculous? It accomplishes absolutely nothing. No one is fooled by your little performances, no one at all. I’m happy to report that I passed this information on to Miss Gumbino, who as you may well imagine was roundly shocked by what you attempted to imply. Fortunately, however, she was able to tell me that there have been no repercussions from your little prank, and that you have ceased to press your unwelcome attentions upon her. Perhaps you do have some element of decency in you. Hardly an abundance thereof, but some.

Nevertheless, you have gone too far, as I said above. I am thus obliged to tell you that, in the seemingly unlikely event that you eventually bestir yourself to seek gainful employment, it will no longer be possible for this office to provide you with a favorable reference.

How on earth did you manage to filch my personal letterhead, Clarke? No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear from you or of you ever again. While I cannot go so far as to say that I wish your death, I must allow that your obituary is one I would read with some pleasure.

I am sending this letter to your old address. I assume you did not play the same odd prank on the Post Office that you visited upon Mr. Ribbentraub, and that this will reach you in due course.

CF/rg

Mr. Laurence Clarke

c/o Gumbino

311½ West 20 thStreet

New York 10011

Dear Clarke:

All right already, you little bastard. This is to notify you formally that Ribbentraub Realty Corp. hereby formally agrees to termination of the lease on premises occupied by you at 74 Bleecker St., New York City, and further agrees that no obligation, financial or otherwise, exists between the parties.

You got what you wanted, you little son of a bitch. I fired that moron Carbo but hired him back again. You ever show up around 74 Bleecker and Carbo is probably going to break your fucking head for you.

As far as I’m concerned you’re a dirty little son of a bitch, but credit where credit is due and all of the rest of it. Which is that I have to admit that you’re one sharp little cocksucker.

You ever want a job, I can probably find something for you to do, you little bastard.

GR/rls

c/o Gumbino

311½ West 20 thSt.

New York 10011

July 20

Mrs. Lisa Clarke

c/o Mr. Roland Davis Caulder, Esq.

Muggsworth, Caulder, Travis & Beale

437 Piper Blvd.

Richmond, Va.

Dear Lisa:

Forgive me for writing you in care of your attorneys. I somehow misplaced your address, but knew that it would be safe to write you in this fashion. Certainly a man like your father would not dream of opening your mail, not with his high ethical standards.

Of course if he did open it, he would be sure to seal it in such a way that you wouldn’t suspect a thing. Makes you stop and wonder, doesn’t it?

But my purpose in writing is not to provoke you, much as you may think so. Actually I’ve mellowed lately to a degree which might surprise you. If you’ll think back to your last letter, you were dead certain while writing it that I would pass it on to your father. As a matter of fact, I haven’t passed it on to anyone. Of course Rozanne has read it, along with various people who have turned up at the apartment, but there’s no reason for that to bother you.

As a matter of fact, it’s that very letter that prompts me to write this one. For a couple of weeks now I’ve been expecting you to write or call or turn up on my doorstep, and was rather looking forward to a reunion with you. I know Rozanne has expressed an interest in meeting you, and it is an interest I share all the way.

I really expected you to show up this past weekend. You might say I was counting on it, and so was Rozanne. But fortunately we did have company, as it happened. Ellen Jamison turned up Saturday afternoon and stayed with us until just after lunch Sunday, when she had to catch a bus back to Bryn Mawr. While her presence wouldn’t have made you any less welcome — Ellen has heard a lot about you and would like to meet you sometime — it might have been just the slightest bit awkward having two guests, as our space here on West 20 thStreet is somewhat limited. There’s only the one bed, and four would be an awfully tight squeeze.