Irwin Shaw - Rich Man, Poor Man

‘You fellas don’t mind if I mix myself a little drink while I’m waiting, do you?’ Brad said.

Johnny closed the door behind them when he and Rudolph were in the bedroom. ‘We have a decision to make,’ he said. ‘If as he says he’s got close to a hundred thousand cash, we can take it and cut our losses. That is, about twenty thousand give or take a few dollars in one way or another. If we don’t take it, we have to report it and ask for a creditor’s meeting and

probably put him through bankruptcy. If we don’t start criminal proceedings. All his creditors would have an equal shot at the money, or at least pro rata, according to the size of their investments and the amount he actually owes them.’

‘Does he have the right to pay us off like that, preferentially?’

Well, he isn’t in bankruptcy yet,’ Johnny said. ‘I think it would stand up in court of law.’

‘Nothing doing,’ Rudolph said. ‘Let him throw it into the pot. And let’s get the safety-deposit box keys from him tonight, so he can’t lift the money before we can stop him-‘

Johnny sighed. ‘I was afraid you’d say that,’ he said ‘When knighthood was in flower.’

‘Just because he’s a crook,’ Rudolph said, ‘doesn’t mean that ‘I’m going to be a crook to cut my losses, as you say.’

‘I said I thought it would probably stand up in a court of law,’ Johnny said.

‘Not good enough,’ Rudolph said. ‘Not good enough for me.’

Johnny looked speculatively at Rudolph. ‘What would you do if I went to him and said, okay, I’ll take my half, and drop out of the rest of it?’

‘I’d report it at the creditor’s meeting,’ Rudolph said evenly, ‘and make a motion to sue you for recovery.’

‘I surrender, dear,’ Johnny said. ‘Who can stand up to an honest politician?’

They went back into the livingroom. Brad was standing at the window, a full glass in hand, tickets at the fifty yard line for the big game of the season in his wallet, gazing out at the rich, friendly city of Dallas. Johnny explained what they had decided. Brad nodded,” numbly, not quite understanding.

‘And we want you back here tomorrow morning at nine o’clock,’ Rudolph said. ‘Before the banks open. We’ll go around with you to those safety-deposit boxes you spoke about and we’ll take care of the money for you. We’ll give you a receipt for your files. If you’re not here by one minute before nine, I’ll call the police and make out a complaint for fraud.’

‘Rudy…’ Brad said plaintively.

‘And if you want to hold on those fancy, pearl cufflinks,’ Rudolph said, ‘you’d better hide them someplace, because by the end of the month the sheriff is going to come around to seize your property, every bit of property you own, including that pretty, frilled shirt you’re wearing, to satisfy your debts.’

‘You guys,’ Brad said brokenly. ‘You guys … you don’t know what it’s like. You’re rich, you’ve got wives with millions,

you’ve got everything you want. You don’t know what it’s like to be somebody like me.’

‘Don’t break our hearts,’ Rudolph said roughly. He had never been as angry with anyone in his whole, lif e. He had to restrain himself from jumping on the man and trying to strangle him. ‘Just be here at nine o’clock.”

‘Okay, I’M be here,’ Brad said. ‘I don’t suppose you want to have dinner with me… ?’

‘Get out of here before I kill you,’ Rudolph said.

Brad went to the door. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘have a good time in Dallas. It’s a great city. And remember … ‘ He gestured for the suite, the liquor. ‘All this on my bill.’

Then he went out.

Rudolph didn’t have time to call home next morning. Brad came oyer at nine o’clock, as ordered, red eyed and looking as though he hadn’t slept all night, with a collection of keys for safety-deposit boxes in various Dallas banks. Ottman hadn’t called the night before, although Rudolph and Johnny had dined in the hotel to be ready for his call. Rudolph took it as a sign that all had gone smoothly on the Whitby campus and that Ottman’s fears had been exaggerated.

Rudolph and Johnny, with Brad in tow, went to the office of a lawyer whom Johnny knew. There, the lawyer drew up a power of attorney, for Johnny to act as Rudolph’s representative. Johnny was going to stay in Dallas to,sort out the mess. Then, with a clerk from the lawyer’s office as a witness, they went from bank to bank and watched at Brad, not wearing his pearl cufflinks, opened the boxes and took out neat packages of cash. All four men counted the bills methodically, before the clerk made out a receipt, which Rudolph and Johnny signed, acknowledging that they had received the sum from Bradford Knight, and the date. The lawyer’s clerk would then duly witness the slip of paper, after which they would all go up to the main floor from the bank’s vault and deposit the money in a joint account in Rudolph’s and Johnny’s names, all withdrawals to be made on presentation of both signatures. Rudolph and Johnny had planned the procedure the night before, knowing that from now on anything to do With Bradford Knight would have to stand up to scrutiny.

After the last box had been emptied, the final figure stood at ninety-three thousand dollars. Brad had been almost accurate in his estimate of what he had hidden away for what he had called a rainy day. Neither Johnny nor Rudolph asked him

where the money had come from. That would be somebody else’s job.

The visit to the lawyer’s office and the round of the banks had taken up most of the morning and Rudolph had to hurry to catch his plane, which was to leave Dallas for Washington at noon. As he rushed out of the suite, carrying his bag and small briefcase, he saw that the only bottles of the array in the saloon that had been opened had been the one Coke he had taken himself and the fifth of bourbon that Brad had drunk from.

Brad had offered him the use of his car to take him to the airport. ‘This morning, anyway,’ he had said, trying to smile, T still got my Cadillac, might as well enjoy it.’ But Rudolph had refused and called for a taxi. As he climbed into the taxi he asked Johnny to telephone his office in Whitby and tell his secretary that he couldn’t get home tonight, but would be staying over at the Mayflower Hotel in Washington.

On the plane he did not eat the lunch nor drink the two Manhattans. He got the Comptroller’s estimates out of his briefcase and tried to work, but he couldn’t concentrate on the figures before him. He kept .thinking about Brad, doomed, branded, bankrupt, with a jail sentence hanging over his head. Ruined for what? For a money-digging Hollywood tart. It was sickening. He loved her. Brad had said, it had been worth it. Love, the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse. At least in Texas. It was almost impossible to associate Brad with the emotion. He was a man born, Rudolph saw now, for saloons and brothels. Maybe he had known it all the time and had refused to acknowledge it. Still, it was always difficult to believe in the existence of the love of others. Perhaps his refusal to accept the fact that Brad actually was capable of love was condescension on his part. He himself loved Jean, he thought, but would he face ruin for her? The answer had to be no. Was he then more superficial than the blubbering, sweating man in the ruffled shirt? And was He responsible in some way for the hideous day his friend was passing through now and the even more hideous days to come? When he had killed Brad’s chances with Calderwood on the steps of the Country Club, the afternoon of the wedding, had he subconsciously prepared Brad’s fate for him? When he had invested in Brad’s business, out of guilt, hadn’t he really known that one day Brad would revenge himself, and in the only way possible to Brad, by cheating? And had he not, in fact, wanted it to happen to rid himself finally of Brad because Brad had not believed him about Virginia?