Knock Knock Whos There Read online

  ceiling. He was relieved that he had no qualms, no feeling of nerves.

  He thought of all that money: $150,000! He mustn’t be too

  successful with the one-arm bandits, he warned himself. He wanted

  to retire from the scene in two years. He could wait that long, but no

  longer. His first year would be good.

  Maybe, he might even qualify for the one per cent deal, but the

  following year, he would slow down, appearing to lose his grip, and

  knowing Massino and Andy, they would look around for a younger

  man. Then he could bow out as Bernie was now bowing out.

  Melanie stirred and half sat up.

  “You want coffee, honey?” she asked sleepily.

  He stubbed out his cigarette and leaned over her.

  “There’s time.” His fingers caressed her breast and she sighed

  happily.

  Later, when they were having breakfast, Johnny said casually, “I’ll

  see you tonight, baby. We’ll go to Luigi’s.”

  Melanie, happily eating pancakes and syrup, nodded.

  “Yes, Johnny.”

  He paused, not quite sure how to tell her. Goddamn it! He

  thought, this can’t be complicated. Tell her half the truth. She’ll buy

  anything . . . just half the truth.

  “Baby, I have a job to do tonight,” he said as he cut into his

  pancake. “Are you listening?”

  She looked up. The syrup was making a tiny trickle down her

  chin.

  “Yes.”

  “This job is nothing to do with my boss and he wouldn’t want me

  to do it. It means a little more money for me, but Massino mustn’t

  know about it.” He paused and looked at her. She was listening. Her

  black eyes were already showing signs of panic. She had always been

  terrified of Massino and hated Johnny working for him. “There’s

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  nothing to worry about,” he went on, his voice soft and soothing.

  “You know what an alibi means?”

  She put down her knife and fork and nodded.

  “I need an alibi, baby, and I want you to supply it. Nov listen,

  tonight, we eat at Luigi’s, then we come here. I leave my car outside.

  Around midnight, I’ll leave you for thirty minutes while I do this job. I

  come back and if any questions are asked you say I didn’t leave you

  once we got back after dinner. Get it?”

  Melanie put her hands to her face and her elbows on the table. It

  was a bad sign, Johnny told himself that she had now lost interest in

  her food.

  “What job?” she asked.

  He too suddenly didn’t want anything more to eat. He pushed his

  plate aside and lit a cigarette.

  “That’s something you needn’t know, baby,” he said. “It’s a job.

  All you have to tell anyone who might ask is that we spent the night

  here together and I didn’t leave you for a second. Will you do that?”

  She stared at him, her soft black eyes frightened. “Who will ask?”

  “The chances are no one will ask, baby.” He forced a smile. “But

  maybe the fuzz will ask . . . maybe Massino.”

  She flinched.

  “I don’t want trouble, Johnny. No . . . don’t ask me to do it.”

  He pushed back his chair and stood up. He had half expected this

  reaction, knowing Melanie as he did. He moved to the window and

  looked down at the slow-moving traffic. He was sure of her. She

  would do it, he told himself, but she needed to be persuaded.

  He let a long silence build up, then turning, he came back to the

  table and sat down.

  “I’ve never asked you to do anything for me, have I? Not once.

  I’ve done a lot for you. You have this apartment, the furniture, you

  have lots of things I have given you, but never once have I asked you

  to do anything for me . . . now, I’m asking. It’s important.”

  She stared at him.

  “I just have to say that you were here tonight and you didn’t

  leave?”

  “That’s it. You say after we had dinner at Luigi’s we came back

  here and I didn’t leave here until eight o’clock in the morning. Get it?

  I didn’t move from here from ten tonight until eight tomorrow.”

  Melanie looked down at her cold pancake.

  “Well, if it’s so important, I guess I could say that,” she said

  doubtfully.

  “That’s fine.” He wished he could convey to her how important it

  was. “So, okay, you’ll do it?”

  “I don’t like doing it, but I’ll do it.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to control his

  exasperation.

  “Baby, this is serious. The fuzz could yell at you. You know how

  the fuzz act. You must stick with this. Even if Massino bawls at you,

  you must stick with this . . . Do you understand?”

  “Must I do it, Johnny? I’d rather not.”

  He fondled her hand, trying to instil confidence in her.

  “You’ll be repaying a debt, baby. Don’t you want to help me?”

  She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes showing her fear,

  then she put her other hand over his and gripped it hard.

  “Okay, Johnny . . . I’ll do it.”

  And he knew by the tone of her voice she would do it and he

  relaxed.

  He got to his feet and she came around the table to press herself

  against him. His hand slid up under her nightdress and cupped her

  heavy buttocks.

  “I’ve got to get moving, baby,” he said. “See you tonight. Don’t

  worry . . . it’s nothing, baby . . . just a little lie.”

  Leaving her, he ran down the stairs and to where he had parked

  his car. Ten minutes later, he was back in his apartment. He shaved

  and showered. As he stood under the cold water, he wondered if

  Melanie would have the guts to face Massino if things turned sour.

  41

  Maybe she would. He touched his St. Christopher medal. The trick

  with this steal was not to let Massino nor the fuzz even suspect who

  had taken the money.

  He drove up to Massino’s office, arriving there a few minutes to

  io.00. Toni Capello and Ernie Lassini were already there, propping up

  a wall in the office, smoking. Sammy came up the stairs as Johnny

  entered the office.

  “Hi!” Johnny paused. “The big day. You got your uniform fixed?”

  Sammy’s face was already glistening with sweat. There was a

  grey tinge under the black of his skin. Johnny could see he was

  scared to death and he knew Sammy’s panic would grow as the

  collection went on.

  “Mr. Andy’s fixing it,” Sammy said huskily and moved into the

  office.

  Toni and Ernie greeted them. The four men stood around for

  some minutes, then Andy came from his office with two collection

  bags. They were handcuffed together and there was a spare

  handcuff which Andy snapped on Sammy’s wrist and which was

  attached to one of the bags.

  Toni said, “I wouldn’t have your job for a thousand bucks.” He

  was grinning, seeing Shimmy’s fear. “Man! Could some guy take a

  swing at your wrist with an axe!”

  “Cut it out!” Johnny snapped, his voice dangerous. “No one’s

  swinging no axes.”

  There was a sudden silence as Massino came into the
office.

  “All set?” Massino asked Andy.

  “They’re on their way.”

  “Well . . .” Massino grinned at Johnny. “So . . .” Johnny waited,

  his face expressionless.

  “Last round-up, huh?” Massino said. “You’re going to do fine

  with the bandits, Johnny.” He looked at Sammy. “You’re going to do

  fine as my chauffeur. Okay, get moving. The Big Take!” He went to

  his desk and sat down.

  As Toni and Ernie, followed by Sammy, moved to the door,

  Massino said, “Johnny?”

  Johnny paused.

  “You got that goddamn medal on?” Massino was grinning.

  “I’m never without it, Mr. Joe.”

  Massino nodded.

  “Watch it! You could need it on this trip.”

  “We three will be watching it, Mr. Joe,” Johnny said quietly.

  The four men left the office and walked down the stairs to

  Johnny’s car.

  Five hours later, it was over. There had been no trouble. The

  police looked the other way when Johnny double parked, slowing the

  flow of traffic. Money rolled into the bags. Sammy, expecting to hear

  any second the bang of a gun and to feel a bullet smash into his body

  was almost gibbering by the time Johnny pulled up outside Massino’s

  office block.

  Johnny touched him on his shoulder.

  “Finished,” he said quietly. Now the Rolls.”

  But Sammy still didn’t feel safe. He had to cross the sidewalk,

  dragging the heavy bags before he finally reached the haven of

  Massino’s office.

  With Johnny at his side and Ernie and Toni, fanned out, their

  hands gripping their gun butts, he got out of the car and into the

  rain. He cringed at the crowd waiting around the entrance to the

  office block to cheer the four men as they arrived.

  Then the blessed dimness of the lobby and the ride up in the

  elevator.

  “How does it feel, boy, to be carrying all that dough?” Toni

  asked.

  Sammy looked at him, then away. He was thinking that

  tomorrow he would be really safe, fitted with a grey uniform,

  wearing a peaked cap with a black cockade and at the wheel of a

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  Corniche Rolls. After ten years of fear, he had come through without

  being shot at and without having his hand chopped off and now he

  was heading for pastures green.

  With Johnny at his side, he shambled into Massino’s office and

  set down the two heavy bags on Massino’s desk.

  Andy was there, waiting. Massino was chewing a dead cigar. As

  Andy unlocked the handcuff, Massino lifted his eyebrows at Johnny.

  It was a silent question: “No trouble?” Johnny shook his head.

  Then came the ritual while Andy counted the money. It took

  some time. Finally, Andy looked at Massino and pursing his thin lips

  said, “This is the tops, Mr. Joe: one hundred and eighty-six thousand.

  Some take!”

  Johnny felt a rush of hot blood down his spine. The jackpot! In a

  few hours this enormous sum of money would be his! A thirty-

  footer? He would now be able to make new plans. A forty-five-footer

  now came into his mind.

  He watched Andy tug the two bags into his office and after a

  moment or so, he heard the old-fashioned safe door clang shut.

  Massino took from his desk drawer a bottle of Johnny Walker.

  Ernie produced glasses. Massino poured himself a generous shot,

  then offered the bottle to Johnny.

  “Go ahead,” Massino said. “You’re my boy, Johnny. Twenty

  years! I wanted you to be in on the biggest take.” He leaned back,

  grinning. “Now, you’ve got a career ahead of you.”

  Ernie poured the rest of the drinks. Sammy refused. There was a

  pause while the men toasted themselves, then the telephone bell

  started up and Massino waved them away.

  As Johnny and Sammy walked down the stairs, Sammy said, “It’s

  been tough, Mr. Johnny and I’m sorry you and me won’t work

  together no more. You’ve been good to me. You’ve helped me. I

  want to say thanks.”

  “Let’s go drink beer,” Johnny said and as he walked into the rain,

  he felt the spray of the sea against his face and the lurch of a forty-

  five-footer beneath his feet.

  They drank beer in the dimness of Friday’s, bar. “I guess this is

  good-bye, Sammy,” Johnny said as Sammy waved to the barman for

  a second round. “You see . . . nothing ever happened all these years.

  You were scared about nothing.”

  “I guess.” Sammy shook his head. Mere are folk who always

  worry and folk who don’t. You’re lucky, Mr. Johnny. You don’t ever

  seem to worry.”

  Johnny thought of the steal. Worry? No! After all be was over

  forty: half way to death. Even if the steal turned sour, he could tell

  himself when the crunch came that at least he had tried to achieve

  an ambition. But the steal wasn’t going to turn sour. There would be

  no crunch.

  Out in the rain, the two men—one white, the other black—

  looked at each other. There was an awkward pause, then Johnny

  offered his hand.

  “Well, so long, Sammy,” he said. “We’ll keep in touch.”

  They gripped hands.

  “Keep saving your money,” Johnny went on. “I’ll be around.

  Anytime, anywhere if you want to yak . . . you know.”

  Sammy’s eyes grew misty.

  “I know, Mr. Johnny. I’m your friend . . . remember, Mr. Johnny.

  I’m your friend.”

  Johnny gave him a light punch on his chest, then walked away. As

  he walked he felt a shutter was closing down, cutting off a slice of his

  life. The clang of the shutter in his mind warned him that he was now

  even more out on his own.

  Driving slowly, he reached his apartment at 17.20, climbed the

  stairs and let himself in. He felt in need of a drink, but he resisted it.

  No alcohol. He had to be sharp for this job: no whisky to make him

  feel reckless. He thought of the hours ahead: the dinner with

  Melanie: the slow creeping minutes. He went to the window and

  looked down on the narrow, traffic-congested street, then he

  stripped off and took a shower, put on his best suit and then looked

  at his watch. It was now 18.00. God! he thought, when waiting, how

  time crawled!

  He checked the things he would need: a weighted rubber cosh, a

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  folded newspaper, a pair of gloves, his cigarette lighter, the key to

  the safe and the left-luggage locker key. All these he laid out on the

  table. There was nothing else he needed except luck. He put his

  fingers inside his shirt and touched the St. Christopher medal. In two

  years’ time, he told himself, he would be at sea with the spokes of a

  tiller in his hands, steering a forty-five-footer into the bay with the

  sun on his face and the roar of powerful motors making the deck

  tremble.

  Sitting before the window, he listened to the noise of the street

  floating up to him, the sound of the traffic and the kids yelling until

  the hands of his watch crawled to 19.30. Then he got to his feet, slid

  the cosh into his hip pocket, strapped on hi
s gun harness, checked

  his .38, took the newspaper into the bathroom and dampened it

  under the tap before putting it into his jacket pocket, put the two

  keys and the gloves in another pocket and he was ready to go.

  He drove to Melanie’s apartment, arriving there just on 20.00.

  She was waiting in the doorway and got into the car as Johnny pulled

  up.

  “Hi, baby!” He tried to make his voice sound casual. “Everything

  okay?”

  “Yes.” Her tone was flat. He could see she was uneasy and he

  hoped to God she hadn’t changed her mind.

  The meal wasn’t a success although Johnny extravagantly

  ordered lobster cocktails and turkey breasts done in hot chili sauce.

  Neither of them did more than pick at the food. Johnny couldn’t help

  thinking of the moment when he would have to tackle Benno. The

  business of rushing the two heavy bags across to the Greyhound

  station. He would have to leave the operation until after 02.00:

  between 02.00 and 03.00. Everything depended on luck and putting

  down his fork, he touched the St. Christopher medal through his

  shirt.

  “I wish you would tell me what you are going to do, Johnny,”

  Melanie said suddenly. She pushed her turkey away, only half eaten.

  “It worries me so. It’s nothing bad, is it?”

  “A job. Forget it, baby. You don’t want to know anything about it

  . . . it’s the best way. You want coffee?”

  “No.”

  “Let’s go to a movie. Come on, baby, snap out of it. It’s going to

  be all right.”

  Going to a movie was a good idea. It had grip and even Johnny

  forgot what he was going to do in a few hour’s time. They returned

  to Melanie’s apartment just after midnight and went up the stairs.

  On the stairs, they ran into a girl who had an apartment opposite

  Melanie’s. They paused to have a word. The girl knew Johnny and got

  on well with Melanie.

  “Out of cigarettes!” she said. “My luck!”

  This chance meeting pleased Johnny. Just in case anything turned

  sour, this girl could say he was with Melanie.

  The girl went on down the stairs and Melanie and Johnny went

  on up. Johnny had left his car parked outside the entrance and the

  girl would see it.

  “Want coffee?” Melanie asked, dropping her coat on the settee.

  “A lot of it, baby.” Johnny sat down. “I don’t leave here for a

  couple of hours. I’ve got to stay awake.”