Ralph Compton: Do or Die

“Well, well, well.” Stickpin’s voice was like two rocks grating together. “All evening I’ve been trying to figure out how in hell I lost my roll. Then who should I see across the room at the most expensive restaurant in Denver? The water boy I always buy water from.” He leaned on the edge of the table and glared at Tony. “You made the worst mistake of your life picking my pocket. I’ve beat people to a pulp for a lot less.” His smile was ripe with menace. “So where do you want it? Here or outside?”

Chapter Two

Charley Pickett didn’t know which shocked him more. That someone would come up to them in public and threaten them, or that his best friend, Anthony Michael Fabrizio, was a pickpocket. For just as sure as he was sitting there, he knew it was true.

Tony, though, smiled that pearly white smile of his and responded, “I have no idea what you are talking about, signore .”

The newspapers were full of stories about how bad crime was in Denver. Thieves, pickpockets, footpads, robbers; whatever they were called, they were thick as fleas on an old coon dog. That’s why Charley had taken to keeping what little money he had saved in his right shoe.

“Spare me, punk!” the man with the diamond stickpin snarled. “Do you have any idea who I am?” He drew himself up to his full height. “I’m Walter Radtke. I run half a dozen concert halls and twice as many gambling dens. I make more money in a day than you’ll ever earn in your lifetime. I’m not someone you want to mess with.”

Charley saw Tony glance right and left as if he were thinking about bolting. Right away, the two bruisers with Radtke flanked him to prevent it.

Tony’s smile never wavered. “All that may be true, but it does not prove I stole your money. For all you know, it was someone else. Or you lost it.”

Radtke folded his arms across his chest. “Quit playing me for a sucker. Hell, I buy water from you every day on my way to one of my concert halls. You must have been waiting your chance for weeks. And you’re good. I’ll grant you that. I never felt you lift it.”

Charley was being ignored. He was relieved, since he would never want to rile someone like Radtke. But it also made him a little angry that he wasn’t important enough to be noticed.

“I want my money, punk. All of it. If you don’t hand it over right this minute, Loritz and Arch are taking you out into the alley and rearranging your bones. It’s that simple.”

“You would cause a scene here?” Tony gestured at the array of Denver’s richest and most influential. “Unless I am mistaken, over there is the mayor with his lovely wife. At the table next to them is the president of the bank down the street. What will they think if they see your scimmie drag me out? It would not do to spoil their digestion.”

Radtke glanced at the tables Tony had indicated, and his eyebrows pinched together. “Damn.” He leaned on the table again. “You think you’re smart, don’t you, boy? But all you’ve done is bought yourself some time. You have until seven p.m. tomorrow to bring my money to the Hull Boarding House on Fremont Street. If you don’t, by eight I’ll have a hundred men scouring Denver from end to end. There’s nowhere you can hide that I can’t find you. There’s nowhere you can run that my men can’t hunt you down.”

Tony was still smiling when the trio walked off. As soon as they were out of sight, he drained his wineglass in several gulps and sat glumly staring at the linen tablecloth. “I am in for it now. Even if I return the money, Radtke is not likely to forgive and forget. He does not strike me as the type to turn the other cheek.”

“How could you steal someone else’s money?” Charley asked in amazement.

“There you go again. I swear, the way you go on, you should consider becoming a priest.” Tony paused. “Sorry. Make that a preacher.”

“Needle me all you want. But there’s right and there’s wrong, and a man has to know which is which or he’ll never amount to a hill of beans.”

“Is that you talking or your padre ? Your father?” Tony put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes. “It is easy for you to spout virtue, my friend. You did not have the childhood I did. You have not been living by your wits as long as I have. It is not easy, Charley. Sometimes you must do things you are not proud of.”

“I’d never steal.”

Tony looked at him and smiled. “I believe you. I believe you would rather starve than do whatever it takes to survive. That is the big difference between us.” He reached across and patted Charley’s big hand. “But do not take me wrong. I do not think less of you. I think more. We are more alike in that respect than you can imagine. I am honored to call you my friend.”

Charley thought of how his mother used to pat him on the head and tell him he was her pride and joy, and he grew all tingly. “Right or wrong, we can’t let Radtke hurt you. We’ve got to do something.”

“I am open to suggestions. But I tell you right now, I am not returning the money. I need a stake, Charley. Why, I cannot say. But I need a lot of money, and I need it soon.” Tony gazed wistfully at a chandelier. “In many respects we are like driftwood. The currents of our lives carry us places we would rather not go, but which we are powerless to prevent.”

Charley had no idea what his friend was talking about. He bent to his steak and tried to enjoy it, but the mood had been ruined. Twice he tried to engage Tony in conversation, but Tony had withdrawn into himself.

“If you do not mind,” Tony said as he paid for their meals, “I would very much like to be alone. I will walk home by myself and see you tomorrow on the same corner.”

“Whatever you want.” Charley was feeling sad himself. Whenever someone he liked was upset, it upset him too. He trailed Tony out the gilded glass doors and watched until Tony reached the far end of the block. About to turn and go his own way, he saw a pair of shadows emerge from the recessed doorway of a butcher shop and fall into step a dozen yards behind his friend.

Charley was startled to realize they were the same pair who had been with Walter Radtke. Loritz and Arch. They had on hats and coats with the collars pulled high, but they didn’t fool him. Pulling the short brim of his own hat low, he followed to see what they were up to. Radtke had given Tony until tomorrow night to fork over the money, but maybe he had changed his mind and decided to have Tony beaten to a pulp sooner.

Charley wouldn’t let that happen. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he hunched forward so he would appear smaller than he was in case they looked back. His size had always set him apart, and they were bound to recognize him otherwise. But they never once glanced over their shoulders. They were intent on Tony and Tony alone.

Charley thought about what his friend had said about needing a stake. Tony wasn’t the only one. He could use one. So could Melissa. And they were not alone. There had to be thousands who would give their eyeteeth for a chance at a better life. For most, though, their dreams would never amount to more than flights of fancy.

All those years in Kentucky, Charley had never imagined life was so hard, so cruel. His parents, he now knew, had protected him from the worst of the world. They fed him; they clothed him; they were always there when he needed a helping hand. He had never fully appreciated all they did.

Charley would very much like to go back and tell them to their faces how much they meant to him. How much he loved them. But he couldn’t bear to show up on their doorstep penniless and jobless, like some tramp begging for a handout. He had his pride to think of. When he returned to Kentucky, he wanted them to be proud of him, not ashamed.