9:41 (15 page)

“Well, it's not as bad as Chicago and all that. I mean, after all, in it's heyday Chicago had about five hundred gang killings, and hardly any of the killers were apprehended. I mean it hasn't gotten to that stage yet”, replied Frank.

“It's bad enough, Frank. Pray God it doesn't get as bad as that. Five hundred killings. And hardly a murder solved. Boy, that's just crazy”, said Jim, hitting his palm on the conference table. “The police were probably bribed and all that, but still, five hundred killings. That's a hell of a lot”.

“It sure is … five hundred”, said Frank reflectively.

“And hardly any solved”, continued Jim.

“I'll admit that there could be a perfect murder committed, but those things in Chicago weren't perfect murders. You can bet on that”.

“You really think a perfect murder could be committed, Jim?”

“Certainly. Take all the proper precautions, the right steps, and you could kill someone, anyone, and no one would ever find out. It probably would be easy”.

“You're kidding. You really think you could set up a perfect murder. I mean really, not only idle thought?” said Frank, genuinely interested, struck, seemingly, by a flying, glowing spark. Jim, who had been taking a sip of his drink, stopped, put down the drink, and looked at Frank.

“Well, yes. I honestly believe I could. If I wanted to. If I put my mind to it, I'm sure I could”.

“I don't believe you could do it”, said Frank, shaking his head. “Nope, I don't believe it”.

“Well, I don't know if I want to prove it to you, or not, but I sure as hell know I could. I've thought about it before. Not doing it, or course, but just the idea, the method, and I thought of a plan that I know could work if I developed it a bit more”.

“Aww, that's a lot of nonsense. You'd be picked up in twenty four hours and slammed in the chair if you ever tried it. I know you, and all that confidence you have in yourself, how you think everything is a challenge and you have to stand up to it, but this time you're just blowing your own whistle. I'd damn near bet you anything I own that you couldn't do it”.

“I'll be God damned. You telling me I'm a blowhard?” stammered Jim, his jaw set grim and hard.

“No, I'm not calling you a blowhard. I just say you're blowing your own whistle this time. You couldn't do it in a million years, and I don't care what you say”, said Frank purposely.

“You're telling me I don't know what I'm talking about, eh? I'll take you up on that offer of yours. If you can put up enough capital, I'll show you who's blowing his own whistle. Come on, what're you willing to wager?”

“I don't mean for you to do anything crazy”.

“Let's go, how much do you want to be me. C'mon, let's go”, said Jim, in a determined, impatient way.

“All right, if you're really serious, how about a thousand?” replied Frank.

“Make it serious money, Buddy Boy …”.

Buddy Boy, that damned name
. How Frank hated it when Jim called him that.

“… you can do a lot better than that, can't you?” continued Jim.

“Okay, make it ten thousand”.

“That's getting better. If you make it fifty thousand, I'll take it”, said Jim.

“Jesus, don't go hog wild with these figures, Jim. After all, I don't have the kind of money you have”.

“If you've got fifty thousand to bet, we've got a deal, put it up, Buddy Boy, or forget it”.

“You've got it”, snapped Frank with irate rapidity. “Fifty thousand that you can't put together a perfect murder”.

Jim and Frank shook hands to complete their gentlemen's wager. Jim briskly put his drink down and in serious, almost deadly, manner, took his overcoat off the hanger and put it on his back. Frank looked at him in an astonished, dumbfounded, and yet, unobservedly, pleased way. Jim turned to Frank and said: “are you coming, or do you want to take the train home?”

“No, wait a minute”, said Frank. “I'll be right with you. Just let me get my coat out of my office. You go ahead down and warm the car. I'll be down in a second”.

The steel cables that were suspended between the struts of the bridge swept down from the great heights, and then soared upwards again, as the car rolled forward, past strip after strip, beam after beam, girder after girder, of mute, dark, steel. Jim was driving across the bridge at an unusually slow pace this evening, obviously occupied with the thoughts of the foul negotiation he had just been a partner to. Below, the murky water jumped and quivered like a gelatinous mass. The lights of the shipyard shone forth and reflected off the water, making weird, vari-patterned designs of abstract lights thereon.

Jim spoke from the somber depths of his being. “Frank, tomorrow, you bring in the amount we've agreed upon. By then, I think I'll be able to lay the groundwork for a scheme, … but don't let anyone know about the money, otherwise, we'll arouse suspicion from the start”. Then he pressed his lips in a determined, familiar twist, one that Frank had seen so often before. It was a horrifying evil smirk now. Some time ago it had been an amiable grin, … and before that, it had been a sign of conviction. It was the smirk of a man who was about to accomplish something. No worry, no doubt, and it frightened Frank, exceedingly.

The next morning. Frank strode past the receptionist in Jim's office, through the little railing around her desk. Jim called to him from within his office and told him to enter. The receptionist intercom was faster than Frank's feet.

“Good morning, Jim”, said Frank, as he entered, “I …” but Frank dropped any sort of senseless pleasantry when he saw Jim. Jim was sitting behind his desk, tilted back in his swivel chair, a pile of money on the desk. His hands were together, fingers interlaced against his chin.

“Here's my half of the money”, said Jim as he watched Frank watch the money. “Where's yours?”

“Uh, … oh, right here”, stammered Frank as he pulled a neat packet out of his pocket.

“Good”, said Jim. “Now what we'll do is put the money in a safe deposit box, and each of us will have a key. This way, either of us can draw the money without any fuss”. Jim gathered the money from his desk, took Frank's packet, and said as he preceded him out of the office, “thus starts the diabolical scheme towards realization”.

A week had passed since the money was deposited in the bank, since the hellborn idea was pushed into motion, but no further mention of the affair was to pass Jim's lips. Business transpired as usual, and a business-pleasure trip to Montauk Point was supported by many of the members of the club which Jim was the president and Frank was a member. So whole heartedly did Jim devise and applaud the venture, that all of the club members decided to go, including Frank. Frank's wife was persuaded to stay over at Jim's house, with Jim's wife, so that they might have a bit of relaxation together since, over the years, they had become great friends. Jim and Frank were to drive out together since, they too, were great friends. The trip was to begin in one day, and so completely was Jim's engrossment in the trip, that the idea of the murder seemed to have slipped his mind. Frank was well satisfied to wait and wonder, since he had only to gain … if not the hundred thousand—which he sorely wanted—at least the witnessing of the foul deed which could, in another way, be just as profitable

Each night they drove home in funereal muteness, which was Frank's indication that the murder was still pervading Jim's thoughts. On the eighth day following the agreement, Jim said that his plan was complete, and that he was ready to put it into action at any moment. Jim's heart leapt with satisfaction, or at least the anticipation that the thought of liberation brings.

“Well?” exclaimed Frank, unable to contain his curiosity.

“Well, what?” asked Jim.

“Tell me of your plan, … I mean, just how do you intend to kill your victim? First things first, who is going to be your victim and …”

“All in due time, Frank. You shall find out all about it in due time. Actually”, Jim said as he leaned closer to Frank to enhance the secretiveness of the moment, and to insure privacy, “I'll tell you all about it tonight, before we leave for the Point. I think this evening is the time for it, just before we go away. We can say we were on the road to Montauk I'll have you for a witness, and they won't be able to even suspect me”.

Frank's eyes widened with pleasure. “Yeah, you're right. I can tell whoever, we were together all the time. Tonight, hanh? Do you know your victim”, continued Frank's curiosity.

“This evening, Frank”, said Jim emphatically. “Now let me get some work done. I'll see you after work and tell you all about it”.

Frank got up and headed for the door.

“Oh, Frank, wait a minute”.

Frank turned quickly, thinking that Jim had decided to tell him now.

“Listen”, said Jim. “I have a little gimmick ordered at a shop on Broad Street. It's one of those catchy little gimmicks that are a lot of laughs, and I have to pick it up before we leave. But, with planning and other things, I haven't got time to go and get it. I was hoping that you could pick it up for me. The shop closes at four-thirty”.

“Oh, sure. I'll get it. Where's the shop?” said Frank.

“The address is 26 Broad Street, on the second floor. The name of the place is Quality Novelties, … but listen, no one is to know about this, so don't tell any of the boys, or anyone, for that matter, so when we get out there, it'll be a surprise, okay?”

“Sure, sure. I'll pick it up myself, later. When will I meet you?” asked Frank.

“I'll pick you up right in front of the place about four forty-five”, said Jim.

“What about, ah, you know, the …”

“That comes between now and the time we head for the Point”, said Jim. “Don't worry, I'll tell you all about it later”.

“Okay, see you later”, said Frank as he left Jim's office.

Jim watched Frank go out and of a sort of smirk wrinkled the corner of his mouth. Frank, for his part, was bewildered by the magnanimity of the situation, … murder. And Jim's uncaring, yea, even unfeeling attitude made him feel even more uneasy. He knew Jim though, and Jim never made wild boasts. He always hit his mark, … gad, what an appropriate metaphor, thought Frank as he entered his own office.
No doubt about Jim though
, thought Frank …
a perfect murder. It certainly will be perfect in more ways than one
.

At exactly 4:40, Jim got up from his chair, took his coat out of the closet, folded it over his arm, took his hat off the shelf, and stepped out of the door of his office into the outer office. He walked over to his secretary's desk, placed his hat down and said as he was slipping on his coat … “I'm going to leave now, Joan. Frank Graton was supposed to meet me here, but as usual, he's not here yet. I called his office and he's gone. I guess he's waiting by the car. Anyway, if anything comes up that you can't handle yourself, just ask Charlie Moreland, next door. He said he'd give you a hand if you needed him. I should be back in a few days, a week at the most”.

“Yes, Sir. I'm sure I'll be able to handle everything satisfactorily”.

“Good, well, so long”, said Jim as he picked up his hat and headed to the door.

“Have a good trip, Mr. Ackland”, called his secretary·

Jim's head twisted slightly sideways, and with a concealed smirk and a glance at the secretary from the side of his eye, said: “Thank you, Joan. I hope this to be a very profitable venture”. The door shut quietly behind him. He pressed the little arrow shaped button that summoned the elevator.

Jim sat in his car, right on schedule, waiting for Frank to show up. As a matter of course, Jim, who was punctuality personified, expected to have to wait for Frank whenever they were to meet. He always had … even in college. Like the time someone was … someone was twisting the handle of the car door on the passenger's side back and forth, being restricted by the lock. Jim saw the familiar blue herringbone of Frank's overcoat and leaned over and pulled up the lock peg.

“Jesus, it's cold as anything out there”, said Frank as he climbed into the car shrugging his shoulders closer together to create some body heat. “I was just calling your office. You must have given me the wrong address. There's no Quality Novelties in this building”.

“No? I looked the address up in the telephone book”, said Jim, thoroughly disconcerted. He glanced at his watch. “Too late now to even pick it up. Damn it all. Damn”, said Jim disgustedly as he started the car.

Frank was blowing on his hands, rubbing them together as he turned to Jim. “Well, come on, what are you keeping all the wraps on this idea of yours for? Tell me about it will you, the suspense is killing me”.

Jim nodded slightly with a chuckle. “Really”, he said. “Let me give you my basic concept on the matter before I begin”. He turned the car slowly into South Street toward the bridge. “Firstly, the main element of the murder must be surprise. That is, to take the victim while he is unaware of his circumstances. In this way he cannot retaliate nor even suspect … and therefore could not have told anyone of his would-be killer, or of his suspicions”.

“You mean you should pick on a stranger that doesn't know you from a hole in the wall, and just sort of ambush him on a quiet street, and no one could possibly be the wiser”, asked Frank, genuinely interested in figuring out the details.

“Well”, said Jim, somewhat annoyed, “that certainly is a possibility, but I more or less considered that a lot less exciting than the plan I am about to unfold to you. True enough, you could do it very easily that way, but then, that's just the point. An ambush like that takes such little skill and real thought that the satisfaction derived from the challenge would be nil”.