Little Men, Big World Read online

  The thin wail continued. Sounded almost like a baby. But what the hell would a baby be doing...? Now he heard vague thumping sounds in the rear of the apartment, coming from the spare bedroom where nobody ever set foot. At last he found his slippers and switched on the light to look for his robe. He thought he heard Anna’s door open and, opening his own door quickly, he peered out into the hall. But it was dark. Anna’s door was closed.

  Silence returned to the house. Arky stood listening. “What the hell’s wrong with me?” he demanded aloud. “I got the fantods, or something?”

  He put on his robe, lit a cigarette, and began to pace back and forth in front of his open bedroom door.

  The wailing started again, and suddenly a crack of light showed far down the hall under the door of the spare bedroom.

  “I’m damned,” said Arky, stumped.

  Moving quickly down the hall, he opened Anna’s door. Her bed was empty. He ran to the spare bedroom and turned the knob; the door was locked. The wailing was much louder now. It was a baby, all right. What else could it be? He raised his fist to knock, changed his mind, and pressed his ear to the door. Anna’s voice came faintly to him, punctuated by wails.

  “Keep him quiet, will you, for God’s sake? Ark’s home in bed. We’ll tell him tomorrow.”

  Another female voice spoke at some length, but Arky couldn’t make out a single word and suddenly he realized that the second voice was speaking in a foreign language of some kind.

  Exasperated now, he beat on the door with his fist. In a moment, he heard the key turn in the lock, the door swung back, and he was face to face with Anna. Beyond her he could see a fattish, towheaded girl, who couldn’t have been over sixteen, holding a baby in her arms. On a stand was a big market-basket with what looked like a horse-blanket in it. The girl showed all the signs of intense fright and seemed unable to make up her mind whether to run or faint. The baby wailed louder than ever now, and Arky could see it waving its tiny fists.

  “Will you stop making so damn much noise?” cried Anna. Then she gave him a push. “Get out of here. Go back to bed. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “You’ll talk to me now. You think I want a zoo made out of my apartment? Who’s that girl and whose kid is that?” The girl jabbered despairingly over the thin baby-wails. “Never mind, Milli,” said Anna. “He just makes a lot of noise with his mouth. Arky, go back to bed. I got to get the kid’s bottle. We were hoping he’d sleep through, but…”

  “Maybe I’m crazy,” said Arky, barring her way. “But who said blondie could bring that kid in here?”

  “I did. She’s my niece, and she’s got no place to go.”

  “Christ, another Polack, and a little Polack on top of it. Ain’t there enough Polacks in the world?”

  “Maybe. And there’s enough white trash, too. Get out of my way.”

  Furious, Arky grabbed Anna, pulled her out into the hallway by the wrists and slammed her back against the wall. In the spare bedroom, the towheaded girl began to wail a duet with the baby. “I tole you, Anna. I tole you,” she stammered.

  “Don’t get rough with me,” said Anna, her blue eyes glaring icily at him. “I’m not scared of you, if everybody else is.” She tried violently to wrench herself away from him and finally he let her go.

  “The poor kid’s hungry,” she said, calming down a little. “He ain’t et for five hours and he didn’t eat good then. I’d’ve fed him later if I’d known when you were coming back.”

  “Talk sense, for Christ’s sake. What do I know about feeding kids—or care? What I’m saying is, what’s he doing here? You know I have a hard time sleeping. Why drag a kid in to make it worse?”

  “Will you let us feed the baby? Then he’ll go back to sleep, and I’ll tell you about the whole thing.”

  “It better be good.”

  Anna flounced away from him and disappeared into the kitchen. Scratching his head in irritation, Arky glanced into the bedroom. The towheaded girl was staring at him with the eyes of a whipped dog. The baby had stopped crying and was now hiccupping.

  “I tole Anna, mister,” she said. “Please ... I don’t like bodder nobody.”

  “Ain’t the kid got a father?” asked Arky curtly.

  The girl didn’t seem to comprehend and looked at Arky blankly, her full lips dropping open.

  “I don’t like bodder,” she said. “I take him ’way.”

  Arky ground his teeth in irritation. What was a kid like this doing with a baby, anyway? She looked something like a baby herself.

  “Where’s his father?” he asked.

  “Please?” said the girl. “I don’t understand.”

  “All right. All right,” said Arky, then he turned and went back to his bedroom.

  But he knew it was no use trying to sleep. It was after three now. At four it would begin to get light. At five the tugs would start blasting on the river. He knew the schedule by heart. Swearing to himself, he got out a deck of cards, sat down at a table, and laid out a game of solitaire. He heard Anna go back down the hall, heard the door of the spare bedroom close; a few faint wails, then silence.

  Finally Arky spoke quietly to himself. “Well, this is pretty good. Dragging a little bastard into the house without even asking me about it. That’s too much crust—even for that big Polack.”

  He mussed up the solitaire layout, then picked up a paper and tried to read. All of a sudden, he felt sleepy. He could hardly believe it. Getting up quickly, he locked his door, turned out the lights and got into bed. Somebody started yelling in the street below; then hard heels hit the asphalt as somebody ran up an alley. Arky listened hazily to the running footsteps. The last thing he heard was the wail of a police siren, coming nearer and nearer.

  Arky woke with a start. It was broad daylight, and somebody was knocking on his door. He rolled over groaning, and looked at his watch. Noon! What a sleep!

  “Arky, are you dead?” called Anna’s cheerful daytime voice. “I got your breakfast.”

  Arky got up yawning and stretching, half asleep, and finally managed to get the door open. The towheaded girl came in, carrying his tray. She glanced at Arky shyly and rather fearfully, as if expecting a blow or a kick. Anna, looking placidly cheerful, had the baby in her arms. Arky stared, suddenly remembering. Then glancing at the girl, he hurriedly put on his robe.

  “Look at him, Arky,” said Anna. “Ain’t he a doll-dear? He brought you good luck. That’s the best sleep you’ve had in months.”

  Arky threw a grudging glance in her direction. The kid had reddish-blond hair, a fat face, and round blue eyes. He looked like a baby, just a baby, any baby.

  “He’s only six weeks old, but look how big he is. And strong! He’s already grabbing at things, and swinging his fists at you. Ain’t he a doll-dear?”

  “What’s his name?” asked Arky, feeling slightly embarrassed due to the baby’s steady blank stare.

  “Thaddeus,” said Anna.

  “That’s a hell of a name,” said Arky. “Who thought it up?”

  “It’s Milli’s father’s name.”

  The baby raised its arms in what looked like a shrug, its smooth little face puckered for a moment, then it gave a loud belch.

  Arky started slightly and stared at the baby in disapproving surprise.

  “Oh, nice burp for Aunt Anna. Nice big burp. Got another burp?” said Anna, cooing.

  “Take that kid away, will you?” said Arky. “He’s spoiling my breakfast.” Arky sat down at the table where Milli had put the tray and began to eat. He was hungry as a wolf and Anna had cooked him mush and ham with good thick ham gravy. Fit for a king!

  The baby belched again, then cooed, and seemed to laugh. Milli spoke to Anna in Polish and Anna nodded.

  “Look at him laugh,” said Arky. “How do you like that!”

  “He’s not laughing. That’s gas,” said Anna. “We tried a richer formula. Gave him gas.”

  “What do you mean, formula?”

  “What he eats.”


  “Don’t he eat milk?”

  “Yes, but ... Oh, never mind.”

  Arky turned to Milli, who seemed to be trying to hide. “Why don’t you nurse him yourself?”

  “I don’t understand,” said Milli.

  Arky turned to Anna. “Don’t none of your relatives speak English?”

  “Milli came over only three years ago. She’s my sister’s oldest girl. How do you expect her to speak English when she only just got here? Can you speak Polish?”

  “Well, Milli don’t have to speak English to nurse the baby, does she?”

  “Her milk’s no good. Anyway, they don’t nurse babies anymore.”

  Arky cleaned up his plate, rose, and taking his coffee cup with him, walked over to the window. Milli grabbed up his tray at once and went out with it.

  “She’s trying to help, Arky,” said Anna, irritated. “Didn’t you notice? She helped me cook breakfast. She’s going to do the dishes while I look after the baby. She’s a crazy kid but she means well.”

  Arky turned and looked at Anna, searching her face for her intentions. Finally he asked: “When’s she leaving?”

  “Can’t she stay?” asked Anna quietly. “She’s got no place to go.” The baby gave a few preliminary whimpers, then a long yell. Anna tried to soothe him.

  “What the hell’s wrong with him?” asked Arky, staring at the baby.

  “Gas, I told you. He’s got to be burped better.” She turned and went out.

  Arky called after her. “When I get back this evening I want that kid and her baby out of here.”

  He got no reply.

  Irritated by Anna’s attitude in regard to the baby, and by the questioning looks he kept getting from Zand and Lola downstairs, Arky decided to go to the afternoon game at the ball park. He called up a ticket broker he knew and got a single box seat along the first-base line, then phoned Leon’s office at the Club Imperial. Roberta, the indifferent one, answered his ring. There was never any use trying to talk to Leon until six p.m. or after—Leon went to bed about dawn, sometimes later, and had his breakfast when other people were beginning to think about supper—but Arky wanted to set up a call.

  “What time you expect him, ball of fire?” he asked.

  “Oh, is that you, hoosier? He said seven-thirty. That means any time up to ten-thirty. He drove out of town last night and didn’t get back till nearly eight this morning.”

  Arky thought this over, wondering. “If you don’t hear from him by six, ring his apartment, honey. Tell him Johnson wants him to be in his office at eight.”

  “Oh sure,” said Roberta. “Would you like to talk to Anthony Eden at nine? I’ll have him rush right over.”

  “Better tell him, honey. I call his office at eight. Don’t slip up. Or you’ll have to wear the same old mink next year.”

  “Did you buy it? Look, hoosier, just because you own stock in the company…”

  “Don’t slip up, honey. Maybe Leon owes me money, or something. You never know.” He hung up.

  This was not his idea of how to handle Leon; it was the Mover’s. Respect his privacy, the Mover had told him; so Arky had never even asked Leon for his apartment phone number; in fact, he didn’t even know where Leon’s apartment was. Of course, that was no problem. If he wanted to find out, he’d just have Zand tail him. An Indian couldn’t shake Zand off, and Leon was no Indian, far from it; a blind man could follow him, almost, in that goosey-green convertible.

  After the call, Arky went into the pool hall, handed Zand a slip of paper on which was the location of his box at the ball park, just in case he might get a hurry-up from the Mover, then he walked down to Putnam Boulevard, a wide through-street, and grabbed a taxi.

  All the way out to the ball park, Arky and the taxi-driver talked baseball, but Arky’s mind was not on it and some of his replies were awkward and made the driver turn to look at him. Arky was wondering why Leon had driven out of town. Was the guy Leon had been talking about “hot” one way or another? And was he stashed? Arky did not like the sound of that!

  Besides, the locals made three errors and lost a dull, one-sided game.

  It was nearly six when Arky got back to the 17th. The cigar store was deserted except for Lola, who was leaning wearily on the counter, putting dark-red polish on her nails; and there were only a handful of customers in the pool hall, all merely lounging but two.

  “Zand’s looking for you,” said Lola. “He’s back in the cleaning establishment.” Lola, considered this designation of the bookie room funny, but Arky ignored the quip.

  “Why didn’t he call me?”

  “He just started looking. Knew you’d be on your way.”

  The bookie room was packed, a lot of the patrons hanging on for late results from a California track. Zand, in a Kelly-green shirt and white slacks, came over to him at once.

  His eyes were dilated; he seemed nervous. “The Paymaster called,” he said. “You’re to call the Big Man right away. He’s waiting.”

  Arky said nothing. Turning, he walked leisurely back through the bookie room, nodding and smiling to men here and there, then he went out the back door and as soon as it closed behind him he took the stairs to his apartment three at a time, let himself in with a key, hurried to his bedroom, and shut the door.

  The Mover answered his call at once. “Arky? I have some news for you. Not very good news, I’m afraid, but nothing too startling. I have good reason to believe that Leon is trying to deal the Big City boys in. One of them has already bought a place on the Front through an intermediary: the Bandbox. I’ve talked to the Officer. He’ll close it up sometime this week. No big rush. Just a sudden raid, you know; and he can always blame the Commissioner.”

  Arky laughed appreciatively. “Nice going, sir.”

  “It will cause trouble, but the right kind. So stall with Leon.”

  “I’ve got a call in for eight, figuring to make a date with that clunk of his.”

  “No dates, Ark. Cancel it. Pretend it was a mistake. Ignore Leon till next week. We’ll sweat him a little.”

  “He can stand it. He’s got too much lard around his belt.”

  There was a chuckle from the other end. “That was a very tactless remark, Arky,” said the Mover. “Perhaps you’d better sweat me, too.”

  Arky wanted to bang his head against the wall. His big mouth! The Mover was a large wide man and had quite a belly, although you could hardly notice it the way his clothes were cut. Anyway, Arky never thought of him as fat. He was a firm, solid-looking man. Leon, much slimmer—not fat at all, as a matter of fact—looked soft. “You know what I mean, sir,” said Arky. “I didn’t mean…”

  “Oh, stop it. What’s the matter, no sense of humor? All right. Ignore Leon. We may have some leads later. I’ve got a very smart young man working for us in the Big City at the moment. He informs me that George Cline is there, and that he’s been talking to the boys, persuading them that things are such here now that they can move in. I don’t know what George’s idea is. Because if they did move in, they’d certainly shove George back out of the way in a hurry.”

  “Maybe he’s teamed up with Leon. They used to be friends.” There was a long pause at the other end; finally the Mover spoke. “Arky, if things keep on the way they are going, we may have to start looking around for a new front man.”

  “That suits me fine.”

  “I know. But they are not so easy to find. Anyway, that’s for the future. But cancel your call. Let Leon sweat.” Arky told the Mover about Leon being out of town the night before, and the Mover said: “Sounds like a Big City boy. They like to stay out of sight. He’s probably at some little Lake resort, or a private home. All right, Ark. Goodbye.” The Mover was like that: he’d talk and talk, and even make jokes, then suddenly he’d hang up.

  Arky felt a grim satisfaction in regard to Leon. He didn’t like the guy, never had; nothing about him. It would be a pleasure to sweat him and sweat him good. In Arky’s opinion the Mover was maybe a little too easy w
ith Leon. It wasn’t that he was criticizing the Mover. Who was he to criticize a man like that? But the Mover had never met Leon, judged him only by his actions and his repute. Leon needed a strong hand.

  Still smiling to himself, Arky took off his coat and loosened his tie. He decided that he would not change his clothes before supper, as he usually did; then suddenly he observed that Anna had forgotten to lay out fresh clothes for him ... and then ... he remembered the baby!

  He stood listening. The apartment was very quiet, but wasn’t that a faint whiff of steak broiling that he caught? Somebody was cooking and it smelled good.

  He had just decided to investigate when his private phone rang. The Mover again? He picked up the receiver, smiling, ready to speak in his most polite voice; but it wasn’t the Mover at all, it was Leon. Arky glanced at his watch. Not much after six. Why the rush? Why the call, for that matter? Leon hadn’t called him twice in two years.

  “About that call tonight…” Leon began.

  “What call?”

  There was blank silence for a moment at the other end of the line. “You called me today, didn’t you? Roberta said…”

  Arky had a sudden inspiration how to sweat Leon. “No, Leon. I didn’t call you. Maybe Roberta’s been drinking.”

  “She said you called and you were sore. Wanted to set up a call for eight.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Arky.

  “Look, for Christ’s sake, Ark,” said Leon, “stop kidding. Stop playing games. Robbie’s a sharp girl, even if she doesn’t seem like it. What is this?”

  “You know as much about it as I do,” said Arky indifferently. “Look, I’m busy.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Leon, his voice sounding strange. “How about tonight? I can deliver this guy about eight. My office.”