Роберт Фиш - Rough Diamond

“Pa, be sensible. I’m married now. I live here. This is my home.”

She might not have spoken, or Bees might not have heard her, for he went on with scarcely a pause. “Your ma wants you home, too.”

Fay drew in her breath sharply. “Ma’s dead,” she said quietly. “She’s been dead and buried for years.”

“She still wants you home. She told me. You’re living in sin,” Bees said accusingly. “You’ll go to hell and your ma in heaven will never be able to see you again. Get your things together. I’m taking you home.” He reached over and put one large hand on Fay’s arm, pulling. Fay went white as she pulled back.

“Pa! Let me go! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Carl Luckner, hearing some kind of a fuss in the hallway, came from his combination room and office to see some elderly man pulling at Fay Barnato’s arm. Touching Fay was something Luckner had contemplated for some time, running his hands all over that lush body, kissing those swollen red lips, but the inviting smiles he had given the girl had evoked no response at all on her part, and his job was too valuable at the moment for him to risk making advances that might be rejected. Although why they should be had been a mystery to Luckner since he had first seen the girl; what a girl that beautiful could see in a plain-faced runt with goggles like Barney Barnato when he, Carl Luckner, was available, was something Luckner could not understand. Still, here was some old coot, probably having gotten drunk at the bar, trying to manhandle the girl. Luckner moved forward quickly.

“Here! Let her go, you drunken fool!”

Bees dropped Fay’s arm, turning to face this new threat. “Who are you?”

“Never mind who I am. You’d better leave while you can, old man.”

“I’m leaving with my daughter!” Bees turned back to Fay, angry now. “Get your things together or I’ll drag you out of here without them!”

Luckner looked at Fay. In his mind was the thought that now she might appreciate him and show that appreciation in some proper manner someday when Barney was busy at the office, or some night when Barney was out with the boys. The thought of having Fay in his arms in bed was inflaming, but first things first. He forced his eyes up from her full bust to her eyes. “You want this old man thrown out?”

Fay didn’t know what to say; it was a dilemma. “No,” she said at last. “He’s my pa. I’ll handle him.”

Bees was outraged. “I’ll handle you!” he said angrily, and grabbed her arm again.

Fay cried out in pain. Luckner’s jaw tightened. He stepped forward and took Bees’ arm, twisting it until the man released the girl; then Luckner grabbed Bees by the collar and the seat of his pants, lifting a bit, and started to walk him police fashion down the hall toward the steps. Bees struggled against the undignified grip, his crotch painful from the pressure of the raised trousers. He reached for the shears in the holster at his side, managed to drag them free, and punched them backward in a desperate attempt to win release from the grip. The points narrowly missed Luckner. Luckner’s jaw tightened further; his eyes became mere slits.

“Why, you dirty bastard! You miserable afskeiding! Pull something on me, will you!” he said viciously, and swung Bees around roughly. He took the arm with the scissors and twisted until they fell to the floor. He kicked them away and kept on twisting. Bees cried out in pain and then screamed as the shoulder snapped, slumping to his knees and then sprawling on the floor. Fay screamed and tried to intervene, but Luckner roughly shoved her away, all else forgotten in his maddened rage. Bees was trying to sit up, whimpering in pain, holding his broken arm as tightly to his side as he could while he supported himself on his other arm. Luckner, cursing steadily in a mad monotone, kicked Bees first on the supporting arm, and when Bees collapsed with a loud cry of pain, Luckner kicked him on the broken shoulder. Bees screamed once and fainted, but Luckner continued to kick the inert body, making it jump grotesquely with each kick. Fay was holding her hands over her ears, her eyes wide with shock, screaming without stop. People were running up the stairs from the bar to see what was happening. The first man to reach the top of the stairs saw Luckner methodically kicking some man on the floor of the hallway, a steady stream of curses coming from him as he did so. The man on the stairs stopped abruptly; in the six months Luckner had been managing the Paris Hotel his reputation as a bad man to cross had been proven more than once. Fay saw the frightened faces of the people on the stairs and called to them, her voice tinged with hysteria.

“Stop him! Stop him!”

Nobody moved. Her hysteria increased.

“Then get Barney! Someone get Barney!”

One of the men turned and forced himself past the others on the stairs, running out into the street and down the road to Barney’s office in Commissioner Street. He burst in as Barney was examining a stone through his loupe, his eyeglasses up on his forehead, a digger sitting before him.

“Barney!”

Barney looked up and came to his feet at once, frightened by the urgency in the man’s voice. “What is it? What happened?”

“Luckner’s killing some man! Your wife is there, screaming!”

Barney called out to his nephew in the rear of the office. “Jack, take over!” He dashed out of the office and down the road, pounding along as fast as he could go with the other man running behind him. He ran into the hotel and forced his way through the crowd on the stairs, tearing at them, pressing through them. The scene that met his eyes when he came to the top was one of horror. Bees’ dead body lay on the hallway floor, his face barely recognizable, a bloody mask with one eye socket empty and staring blindly where Luckner’s heavy boot had torn the eyeball loose, flipping it away to lie somewhere in the shadowed hallway. The nose had been flattened to one side, a bloody smear, and one ear had almost been ripped off. The body itself was twisted obscenely, doll-like, most of the bones broken after death by the unceasing, merciless kicking. Fay, sobbing softly and incessantly, was slumped on the floor against one wall, her hands over her eyes to shut out the memory of that terrible scene. Luckner, the hot edge of his temper spent, was standing as in a daze, panting a bit from his effort.

Barney walked past the dead body, shouldered Luckner aside, and bent to pick Fay up in his arms. He carried her into their room and laid her on the bed. He covered her with the coverlet and bent to kiss her. “Are you all right, sweetheart?”

“Pa… he killed Pa…”

“I know, darling. Are you all right?”

She nodded slowly, still sobbing softly. He kissed her again, gently, tenderly. “I’ll be right back, darling.”

He walked out into the hall, closing the door softly behind him. He looked at the body a moment and then took off his jacket, laying it to cover the battered face of the dead man. Then he straightened up to look at Luckner. When he spoke his tone was almost conversational.

“You’re insane, do you know that?” he said.

Luckner didn’t bother to answer. He walked to the steps and pushed his way through the crowd still standing there stunned by what they had just witnessed. He walked behind the bar, took a bottle of whiskey and a glass and walked to a table, sitting down heavily. Barney picked up the pair of shears lying in the hallway, studied them a moment, and put them in his pocket. Then he followed Luckner down the stairs, people standing back for him, and went to stand before the other man. Luckner didn’t look up. Those in the audience stood away, holding their breath in view of the unexpected drama that had presented itself for their attention. Barney paid them no heed, considering Luckner evenly.