Read Online Barbary Street Incident, A John Cronin Private Eye Short Story by Wolf Wootan - Free Book Online Page A

I usually don’t drink so early in the
morning but it was free, so I kept on drinking and talking to him.
I liked him. I liked him immensely. I liked the way he talked, the
way he drank his beer, the way he scratched his left ear while he
talked. Maybe it was the beer, I don’t know; but I liked the
guy.
    He kept talking about “the boys” at
intervals. I finally became curious enough to ask, “Who in hell’s
name are ‘the boys’? Why are they after you?”
    There was a note of irritation in my voice,
but he ignored it. He raised his face to the ceiling and roared to
some unknown god of which I knew nothing. After his laughter had
subsided and the walls stopped shaking, he turned on his stool and
faced me.
    “You’re kinda nosy, Johnnie, but I guess all
peepers are like that.” He said it with good humor, with no trace
of malice. “‘The boys’ are just ‘the boys.’ They’re out to get my
scalp since I walked out on ’em.”
    He looked at me and said with emphasis, “You
don’t just walk out on the boys.”
    Then he continued, “They wanted me to work a
dame over, and I ain’t a woman-beater. They break too easy. I
didn’t mind working on them mugs they brought in, but I ain’t gonna
maul no woman. The boys got kinda sore when I said no, so I just
got up and walked out. I was lucky I wasn’t dimmed then, but
Fingers got too close and I tossed him against the rest of the
boys. I slipped out then. That was last Monday. They’ll find me
pretty soon.”
    I detected a bit of sadness in his eyes, in
spite of his sporadic laughter.
    “Why didn’t you fix them ? You seem
big enough to take care of yourself. It shouldn’t have been hard to
show them who was boss.”
    He looked at me sadly.
    “I ain’t got nothin’ against none of the
boys. I don’t want to hurt none of ’em. I hope they make their play
fast so I won’t have to hurt ’em. I might lose my head. I don’t
like to hurt people. I’m just too big.”
    I tried another question. “How about those
muggs you mauled for the boys?”
    “Ah, that was different. They was against
the boys. They even tried to kill the boys. They deserved what they
got.”
    I shuddered as I envisioned Caesar’s
gigantic hands twisting off an arm or crushing a man’s ribs without
effort. Did anyone deserve such a fate? I eased my conscience by
agreeing that they did; then we walked out onto Purg Street.
    As we walked along, I racked my brain for
some connection to this giant at my side. He was definitely a
member of some small-time gang working the waterfront. At least,
that is the way I figured from the way he talked. I remembered some
killings that happened back in July. They were small-time
operators; they were all mangled unmercifully by some powerful
being. It could have been Caesar’s work. I didn’t know what I was
stumbling on to, but I decided to stick along with Caesar and see
what I could see. And besides, I liked him, even though I thought
he might be the mangler of those men last July.
    My brain kicked it around all day.
    * * * * *
    All the rest of the day we walked from joint
to joint, just talking and drinking. I had knocked off the
drinking, but Caesar hadn’t.
    I had gone to my room on Barbary Street and
changed clothes and shaved. Before I left I slipped my Colt .38
into my overcoat pocket without letting Little Caesar see it. If I
was to walk around with a booby trap all day, I wanted to be
prepared for anything. Besides, I liked him and didn’t want to see
him hurt if I could help it.
    Nightfall found us at a good pool room on
Purg Street. I was playing draw poker with some guys while Caesar
watched. I was letting them win a little, waiting to make a killing
on two or three quick bets. Caesar lounged his huge hulk against a
pool table, alternately watching me play and playing a little
pool.
    It started raining outside as the twilight
turned to the darkness of night. I felt a bit uneasy and on edge. I
didn’t know why until the girl came