IV
Rico was acutely conscious of his position. A lonely Youngstown yegg in a hostile city without friends or influence. Yeah, funny! Just a no-account yap in a burg like Hammond and not four months ago he had been a big guy in a big burg.
He put on his ulster and went out. The wind was cold and it was snowing. He walked around for a while, keeping to the dark streets, then, chilled through, he went into a little Italian restaurant for a cup of coffee and a sandwich.
The waiter, an Italian boy with a handsome dark face, brought Rico his food. When he set it down on the table he grinned and said:
“Well, happy New Year.”
Rico looked up in surprise.
“Yeah,” he said, “thanks.”
He felt better. This anonymous friendliness cheered him up. While he was eating, he watched the Italian boy, who was wiping off the counter and singing.
“Nice kid,” thought Rico.
When Rico had finished his coffee, he lit a cigarette and sat smoking. He felt comfortable. Looking around the restaurant, he saw that there was a mechanical piano up front. Like Pete’s!
“Say,” he called, “let’s have a little music.”
“Sure,” said the boy.
He put a slug in the piano. It played “Farewell to Thee” in tremolo. Rico felt sad. He called the boy back and gave him a dollar.
“Keep the change, kid,” he said.
The mechanical piano stopped on a discord, and Rico got to his feet. While he was putting on his coat two men came in the front door. One of them went up to the counter and ordered a cup of coffee, but the other stopped and stood staring at Rico.
Rico, noticing the man’s scrutiny, put his hand inside his coat and started out, but the man touched him on the shoulder and whispered:
“Things ain’t going so good, are they, Rico?”
Rico stared at the man and demanded:
“Who the hell are you?”
Then he recognized him. It was Little Arnie’s doorman, Joseph Pavlovsky, one of the guys he had chased.
“I’m one of Arnie’s boys,” said Pavlovsky; “I been in Hammond ever since you gave us the rush.”
“Yeah?” said Rico.
“Straight,” said Pavlovsky. “I been in the beer racket over here and I cleaned up. I’m going back to the big burg next month.”
Rico envied him.
“Yeah?” said Rico.
“You sure pulled one on ’em, Rico,” said Pavlovsky; “you always was a smart boy, Rico.”
“Aw, can that,” said Rico, and, pulling away from Pavlovsky, he went out.
The wind was blowing hard now and it had stopped snowing. Rico turned up his coat collar and started toward Sansotta’s. But he hadn’t gone half a block when he realized that he was being followed. He turned just in time to see two men pass under an archlight.
“It’s Little Arnie’s boy,” he said, “looking for seven grand.” Rico took out his gun, got behind a telephone pole and fired a warning shot. The two men ran for cover and Rico ducked down an alley, ran for two blocks, then turned up another alley and doubled back. He had lost them.
When the lookout let him in he said:
“Louis, the boss wants to see you.”
Rico went up to Sansotta’s room.
“Well?” he said to Sansotta.
“Cesare,” said Sansotta, “a friend of mine is pulling out for Toledo tomorrow night. He’ll take you for fifty bucks.”
“What’s his game?”
“Running dope.”
“It’s OK with me,” said Rico.
Rico went up to his room, took off his overcoat, and flung himself down on the bed. He’d have to pull out now whether he wanted to or not.