I
stared at the pile of pastrami in front of me and knew I had to get out
of there. It was 6:30 and the show would start in two hours, but I
couldn’t stand it any more. Three days of constant eating had finally
taken its toll.
“Are
you sure, Merrill?” My mother said. It had been her idea in the first
place to come to Glimcher’s, thinking that a Catskills vacation was
just what her daughter needed before she went off to college. Never mind
that all “going off to college” entailed was enrolling in
stenography class at CCNY, but it would still be more education than my
mother ever got.
“I’m
not feeling so good, ma. You have a good time, I’ll go rest.”
“But
Merrill, I was really hoping you’d come with us to the show
tonight.” Her pout became more pronounced, and I struggled not to give
in. “The Dave Tarras Orchestra! Are you sure?”
“Very
sure,” I croaked for extra emphasis.
“All
right honey, but what about you? I hope you’re not moping around too
much. Aren’t there some people you can socialize with?”
If
only she knew. “Maybe tomorrow if I feel a bit better.”
I
looked over at my father. Like always, he said nothing. It was so much
easier to defer to my mother, especially about their daughter’s
welfare. I felt a pang of guilt for fooling him, because it was so easy.
He wasn’t the issue, my mother was.
I
put on my best wan smile. “Please, have a good time. I’ll have a
good rest and we’ll talk in the morning.”
My
mother’s look was suspicious, but then she saw the plate I’d pushed
away. “Zeit gezunt, Merrill. I just don’t want you to go and
get in trouble. We came for fun, not for trouble.”
I
pretended to ignore the comment and got up, making a dash out of the
dining room table. It was a long walk up and through the main lobby to
where our hotel room was, and I didn’t want to be distracted from what
I needed to do. I turned to the right and raced down the corridor all
the way to where the 500 block of rooms – definitely the worst block
in all of Glimcher’s, thanks to my cheap parents – were situated. I
glanced quickly at the room across from mine but the door was closed,
which was what I’d expected.
With
another 2 hours to kill, and nothing else to do, I whiled away the time
by reading a couple of pages of Marjorie Morningstar, putting it
down, then picking it back up again. Despite my fidgety state, I sure
could relate to the theme of the nice Jewish girl wanting fame and
fortune. It seemed a whole lot more glamorous than stenography ever
could be.
But
then, so was what I was about to do tonight.
* * *
“He’s a big problem.”
“I
know he is, but what do you want me to do about it?’
“Something!”
the first man said, followed by a series of stamping noises.
“Anything, as long as it doesn’t get back to us.”
I’d
been on my way to meet my parents in the Grand Dining Hall when I heard
voices coming from the room opposite mine. I thought I recognized
one and without thinking, I stopped by the slightly open door to listen.
“Well,
how’s that supposed to work?” asked the second man, whose voice was
decidedly deeper-pitched. “Just walk in there, threaten him, get it
back and what, he won’t make a big fuss? A likely story, Peter.”
I
froze. Suddenly I knew who the first man was. Peter Gluzman, the social
director’s son, a man who could have his pick of any girl and usually
did. What was he up to?
I
inched closer to the crack in the door.
“It’s
worked before. It’ll work again,” Peter said smoothly.
“No,
forget it. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. We should just cut our
losses and wait for the next mark.”
“Absolutely
not.”
“Why,
Peter, because you’ve been spending too much time at the racetrack in
the off-season? Your bookie hiked up the interest charges?”
“Shut
up. We’ll figure something out.”
I’d
gotten so close to the door that when I strained to hear more, I tripped
over my feet and slammed hard against the door, pushing it wide open.
Peter sat on the bed, decked out in a seersucker suit with worry written
all over his face. The other guy, considerably older, stood and paced,
twirling a handgun in his left hand.
I
probably had about second to bolt, but I missed my chance. I was too
busy staring at Peter and when I finally broke away, it was too late.
The
second man raised the gun though it wasn’t quite pointing at me.
“Who the hell are you?”
“I’m
sorry –“
“Guess
you like to eavesdrop, young lady? I suppose you heard an earful back
there?”
Then
I found my courage. “I’ll do it,” I whispered.
“What’s
that?”
I
stepped closer, too worked up to care about the brandished handgun.
“I’ll do it! I’ll help you out. If it’s a disaster for you two
to work this, then I’ll do it. No one knows me. No one cares about me.
That’s why I’ll be perfect.”
Peter
stared at me incredulously. The other man laughed.
“You’ll
do it, huh? Do you even realize what you’re in for, Miss –“
“Koenig.
Merrill to my parents.”
“Well
then, Miss Koenig, you realize you could be signing up for a very
dangerous assignment.”
Now
Peter started laughing. “What’s with the sinister voice, Abe? You
think it’s going to impress her?”
“What
will impress me,” I said, “is if you allow me to do this.” I
paused for a moment. “Besides, I like danger. It makes things more
fun.”
“What
do you know about danger?” Abe asked.
“Not
much, but I learn fast.”
“Abe,
you can’t let her do this. It’s crazy –“
“Peter,
she’s young, she’s eager, she’s willing, and she’s reckless.
Imagine if one of your little whores had been listening by the door.”
Peter’s
face turned white. “I didn’t know you knew about them.”
“Even
I knew about them,” I piped up. “So what’s the plan? I go
in, make nice, take whatever needs to be taken and then waltz out of the
room before he says boo?”
Abe
stared at me, his mouth hanging open slightly. Then he grinned. “You
do learn fast.”
* * *
It
was time. I put down the book and dashed into the bathroom to take a
look at myself. Could I do it? Could I play the part? I tried to batten
down the nerves taking hold in my stomach. It would be fine, I assured
myself. And it would be fun.
Peter
and Abe had rehearsed me through the process. I’d dress up as a maid
offering room service, and I’d vamp it up so well that the guy would
have to let me in.
“But
how do I do that?” I asked.
“You’re
a girl. Don’t you just automatically know these things?”
Or
if not, then I’d learn fast. Or remember what some of the other girls
acted like around Peter.
“And
where do I get a maid costume, anyway?”
Peter
grinned. “It just so happens…”
Abe
glared at him, but no one really wanted to press Peter further. And I
got the costume I needed.
I
didn’t have to travel very far to find the mark’s room, which was
located right around the corner from the lobby of the 500 block. As soon
as I walked down the 400 section, I rejoiced, because my armpits had
finally stopped sweating. My own room seemed to have forgotten it
wasn’t winter anymore, which made getting dressed up in the maid
costume sheer torture.
There
was a chance the mark wouldn’t be in his room, and if so I had a
backup plan – I’d just circle back and return every half hour.
Originally I’d voted for every hour so I wouldn’t be so conspicuous
but Peter and Abe quickly vetoed my idea. “The sooner this gets done,
the better. Make it quick, Miss Koenig,” Abe said ominously,
“Because it’s bad enough you’re involved at all.”
I
found the room, 415, and set down the tray I’d taken with me for show.
I knocked, and there was no answer. My heart skipped a beat and for a
second I thought about chucking it and going to the show. I could find
my parents, slip back into my role of the mousy daughter and finish up
my vacation the way I started it.
Even
the thought of slipping back into my normal role made me want to retch.
This was far more exciting.
I
knocked again. “Who is it?” a voice cried from behind the door.
“Room
service,” I replied in my highest-pitch voice.
There
was a pause. Would he answer the door?
“Come
in,” the voice said.
I
hastily picked up the tray and waited for the door to open. The man
facing me didn’t look troubled or upset. He smiled.
Especially
when he realized I recognized him.
“I’ve
been looking forward to this steak all day,” he said.
I
should have known I’d be way in over my head, and that I shouldn’t
have listened at the door. I should have just kept going straight to my
room and boiled myself silly.
But
I couldn’t leave, not with Hyman Gluzman staring back at me like I was
dinner instead of what was inside the tray. I had to keep up the ruse. I
widened my eyes, put on a weak smile and said “Oh, I’m so, so sorry,
we must have mixed up your order, I’ll be right back –“
“No
you won’t,” the social director said.
“Excuse
me?”
“I
know damn well there’s no steak. There’s probably no food there at
all. My son has a very twisted sense of humor sometimes.”
I
looked at him, recognition dawning in my eyes. “Peter told you what
was going to happen?”
“Of
course not. I guessed. I know he’s had money problems. Other problems,
too. There’s no way I’d ever give him the money he wants so he
thought to steal it, though I wouldn’t have guessed he would send a
pretty girl to do it.”
Peter’s
father moved close and his stale breath hit me in the mouth. “Though I
must say, that was very clever of him. And I have no problem sharing.”
He
wrapped his arms around my waist. I tried to struggle but the social
director tightened his grip. “Oh please keep doing that, my dear.
It’s so much more enjoyable.”
My
mind flashed back to our arrival at Glimcher’s, where we’d been
greeted by the social director’s over-enthusiasm. “Welcome,
welcome!” he’d shouted at every arriving guest, and I’d been
immediately put off by his insistence on asking each person at every
meal if they were having a wonderful time. Even my parents, who were
quick to love anything and everything about the place, had been put off
by his determination in getting them to take part in “Simon Says”
after dinner.
I
squirmed some more as his face inched ever closer but couldn’t hold
off his tongue darting insistently into my mouth. I never knew breath
could taste so foul.
I
certainly thought my first kiss would be better than this.
I
pushed against his chest and he pulled back. For a brief moment I
thought he might stop, but that grin came back. “It might be easier if
you relaxed, he said.”
I
had to think fast. I didn’t like to hurt people but I was too far from
the door to make a quick getaway. But I couldn’t have him mauling me
again.
So
I slapped his face. The sound was sharp and quick and my hand hurt, but
Gluzman recoiled just enough so I could run towards the door and pick up
the tray.
He
tried to push past me and before I could process what I was doing, I
swung the tray at him.
The
social director crumpled to the floor. I stayed frozen to the ground,
watching for any signs of movement. There weren’t any. I waited some
more but he lay still, something red gushed out from the back of his
head.
I
checked my costume to make sure there was no mess. It sounds crazy that
that was my first instinct, but there you have it. I took the tray and
dashed out, too spooked to stick around and see if Hyman Gluzman was
alive or dead.
I
checked my watch. My parents would be back in their room soon, and I
still needed to tell Peter and Abe what had happened. If I left now,
I’d have time to spare.
Sprinting
down the hallway, feeling the heat in my cheeks and the acceleration of
my heartbeat, I couldn’t help thinking how much more exciting this was
than anything playing in the Stardust Lounge.
* * *
“What
do you mean, you didn’t take the money?”
That
was the first question Peter and Abe asked after I’d finished gasping
out my story. I stood back, slightly stunned. I thought they might show
concern, or even wonder if Peter’s father was still alive.
“I
had to get out of there. What if someone saw me go into the room? It
wasn’t like I blended in.”
“You
were dressed up as a maid, Miss Koenig,” Abe said. “I’d say
that’s blending in.”
“Fine,”
I said, pouting a little. “But I wasn’t expecting him to act the way
he did.” I turned to Peter, trying to kill him on looks alone. “You
never told me the mark was supposed to be your father.” And that he
was a lech, I added silently.
“You
weren’t supposed to bash him on the head with a tray and kill him! And
then run off without the money.”
I
put my hands on my hips. “So what do you expect me to do, go back and
get it?”
The
two men didn’t say anything.
“Oh,
come on,” I sputtered. “You can’t be serious.” The silence
continued. “Shit. You are.”
I
noticed an open bottle of whiskey on the dresser. I swiped it and drank
it straight from the bottle. I’d never done that before and the
alcohol burned, but I didn’t care. “Well I’m not going to do it.
It would be insane.”
“Be
reasonable,” said Abe. “Hardly anyone in the 400 block is in their
rooms. They’re all at the Stardust still.”
“That’s
another thing, how were you so sure Hyman Gluzman wouldn’t be?”
“He’s
seen that show a million times,” Peter said, “He practically
memorized the set list. But Abe’s right. No one’s there. The show
won’t be over for another half-hour still. You can go back and get the
money.”
“And
I’m supposed to get in how?”
Abe
held up a key. I couldn’t believe this. “You had a key all along and
you didn’t tell me?”
I
didn’t like the smile he gave me. “You weren’t supposed to
overhear our conversation, Miss Koenig. You weren’t supposed to get
involved. Now that you have, finish what you started.” He threw the
key at me. Luckily my reflexes were decent enough that I caught it on
the rebound off the floor.
But
before I left, I needed to know one thing. “How much money is this,
anyway?”
Peter
was frantic. “We can’t give her a cut –“
“It’s
too late now,” Abe snapped. “You get twenty percent of it. All
right?”
“How
much?”
“Fifty,”
Peter said under his breath.
I
let the number sink in. I still couldn’t get my mind around it. But it
wouldn’t do to let on, so I nodded and rushed back to the 400 block.
To
my surprise, the corridor was still empty. I looked around just to make
sure, then turned the key in the lock. I opened the door, expecting it
to be all quiet. And it was, but something was wrong. Several somethings.
First,
I was sure I’d left the light on. Now it was off. Second, the bed had
been made and now it seemed somewhat disheveled.
But
more importantly, Hyman Gluzman wasn’t lying on the floor. There was a
giant pool of blood, but no body. It didn’t make any sense. I’d only
left maybe a half hour ago. Where could he have gone? This wasn’t
good. I still needed to find the money.
I
searched under the bed, inside the dresser drawers, everywhere I could
think of. No money.
My
heart sank. I knew better than to cry. That was the mark of one of the
simpering girls who would walk out of Glimcher’s with a husband. Not
me. I’d already seen more than most of them ever would. But my parents
couldn’t know that.
And
they would be due any minute now.
There
was one place I hadn’t checked – the bathroom. I rushed inside,
opened the cabinet – nothing. Checked in the toilet, on the floor, but
still no sign.
Finally,
the last resort. The shower curtain was closed, and even though it
seemed like a ridiculous idea to be fearful, I was. But I couldn’t let
it get to me. I opened the curtain.
Hyman
Gluzman stared up at me. This time he was definitely dead, because his
face was blue all over and the skin around his lips had gone white. But
just as I was about to scream, I heard voices in the bedroom.
“How could you forget to look? This is very bad.”
“I
just want to know who beat us to it.” I didn’t recognize either
voice. I hoped they’d stay out of the bathroom. I closed the shower
curtain and sat on the toilet seat, holding my head in my hands.
“Didn’t
you see some girl go into the room?”
“That
was a maid.”
“Come
on. That girl was jailbait. The average age of a maid here is about
sixty. It’s probably Peter’s idea of a joke. ”
Shit.
I’d been seen. Who was watching the room and why? And what the hell
had I gotten myself into?
“Was
killing the old bastard his idea of a joke, too?” The voices were
getting closer and closer. I lowered myself further to the ground. They
were going to find me.
The
bathroom door opened. “Come on, maybe the old guy swallowed the money
or something.”
“That’s
a horrible thought, Dave.”
“I
run this place. I’m allowed horrible thoughts.”
They
walked in. I may not have recognized the voices but I sure knew the
faces. Dave and Leon Glimcher, the hotel owners who spoke at every meal,
introduced every act and at least put on a show of knowing each
guest’s name and where he or she was from. “They’re such wonderful
hosts!” I heard my mother’s voice say in my head.
Another
thing I didn’t need right now.
They
looked at me. I looked up at them. None of us said anything for the
longest while.
Then
I blurted out the first thing out of my mouth. “Uh, hello there.”
They
grinned. “You killed him?” Dave asked.
“I
don’t know,” I moaned. “He wasn’t supposed to be in the bathtub
–“
“Where’s
the money?”
When
I didn’t say anything, Dave repeated the question. “Where is it,
young lady?”
“I
don’t know! I’ve been looking all over for it! I wasn’t even
supposed to be here, or do this.”
Leon
moved closer. At least he didn’t smell, thank god. “Because Peter
put you up to it? He thinks he’s pretty smooth. Or more to the point,
Abe does. They didn’t want to do something so they got someone else
to. Nice work,” he added, more to himself than to Dave or me.
I
didn’t understand. Seeing my confused look, Dave continued. “Abe
likes power, and he decided that turning Peter against his father would
be a neat trick. Especially since Peter has a nasty little problem,
going to the track every chance he gets. I don’t like this sort of
thing happening in my establishment. Bad for business.”
I
pointed to the shower curtain. “Isn’t this worse?”
They
nodded. “But at least that can be taken care of, and will be. Except
for one little problem. If Abe had gotten Peter to do what he was
supposed to, this could all be hushed up. Now there’s you.”
I
didn’t like the way this sounded. “Now there’s me?” I repeated.
“Yes.
You’re in far over your head, young lady. Women shouldn’t be privy
to any of this.”
“What do you mean, they shouldn’t –“
“So
this is what we’re going to do,” Leon cut in, ignoring my outburst.
“We won’t report what happened to the police. You’ll leave
tomorrow morning, first thing –“
“How
will I explain that to my parents?” I asked.
“You’ll
think of something,” Leon said. “And then no one will ever know what
you did. Except for you, I suppose.”
It
was those last words that drove home what had happened. What I’d done.
I’d
killed someone.
All
I wanted was to have some adventure, to make my summer more exciting.
But now there was a dead man. He hadn’t been very nice and it had been
an accident, but it looked bad. Very bad.
“Oh,”
I said in a small voice. “You don’t want the likes of me around
here.”
“It’s
not that. I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice girl. But Abe is the
problem, and we don’t want the likes of him around here. He’s a
charmer.”
I
nodded miserably, beginning to understand.
“Thought
so,” Dave said. “That’s what happens when a man gets others to do
his work. We’ll take care of this now. Best be on your way, Miss
–“ he waited expectantly for me to say my name. I didn’t.
“Never
mind, it’s not like we can’t find out,” he continued.
I
hung my head, not wanting to stay there anymore. I was halfway out of
the social director’s room before I remembered something. “They’re
waiting for me to give them the money,” I said. “What will I do?”
“Oh,”
said Leon, “That’s been dealt with.” The look on his face did not
beg for more questions. It was my cue to leave.
The
walk from the 400 to the 500 block was the slowest I’d ever taken it.
I looked at room after room, down at the brown and red carpeting, then
sat down on one of the chairs in the lounge. I was leaving. I hated
Glimcher’s and I was sad to go.
Because
nothing would be the same.
I
got to 523. The door to the room opposite mine – where I’d gotten to
know Peter and Abe all too well – was slightly open. I should have
left it and gone back to my room and shut myself up with Marjorie
Morningstar, but I knew I needed to face the consequences.
I
opened the door, and the consequences nearly hit me in the face – in
the form of a couple more dead bodies. I saw enough to know I needed to
leave, running back towards my room. I fumbled for the key and
practically threw myself into the room.
Dave
and Leon Glimcher had been right. The situation had been dealt with.
I
dived under the covers, determined to stay there for as long as I could.
Then there was another loud knock on the door.
“Merrill!
Are you asleep?”
My
mother. I’d never been so happy to hear her voice.
“Sort
of,” I said.
“Oh,
sweetie, it was such a wonderful show! I’m so glad we decided to spend
the rest of the summer here.”
I
couldn’t dampen her optimism. “Me too,” I said lamely.
“We’ll
see you in the morning,” she said. I sat upright until I heard her
footsteps retreating away from the door.
Yes,
I’d see my parents in the morning. A morning I didn’t want to face.
* * *
At
breakfast, Dave Glimcher came to our table, sat down next to my parents
and broke the news. My grandmother was in hospital and she wasn’t due
to live much longer.
My
mother reacted as one would. “Oh, my god, thank you,” she said over
and over. Two hours later we were packed and ready to go.
Both
Glimchers wished us off with the warmest of greetings, but one by one,
each turned to me. “Just let it lie, Miss Koenig.”
“What
happened to the money?” I whispered.
“There
was no money,” said Leon.
I
thought about that on the way home and all through the rest of the
summer. Which was why my next decision wasn’t a surprise to me, but
was to my parents.
“I
don’t want to do stenography,” I said.
“Why
not? It’s a good living,” my mother protested.
“But
it’s not my living. It’s boring. I want more.”
My
mother gave me a suspicious look, not unlike the one she’d fixed on me
that fateful last night at Glimcher’s. “More, you say?”
I
nodded, because I didn’t have a better answer. All I knew was that
something had changed, and stenography wasn’t going to do it.
What
was, I didn’t know. But I was determined to find out.
Copyright 2006 by
Sarah Weinman
Sarah Weinman is the crime fiction columnist for the Baltimore
Sun, a correspondent for the publishing news blog Galleycat,
and the fiction editor for SHOTS.
Her short fiction can be found in most of the major online and print
crime fiction periodicals, and has appeared or is forthcoming in DUBLIN
NOIR (Akashic Books) BALTIMORE NOIR (Akashic Books, May 2006) DAMN NEAR
DEAD (Busted Flush Press, July 2006) and Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery
Magazine.
.
