big gadget, because of its weight, was built on rollers, and Benotti’s man, because of the phone call, had pushed the thing out on the ramp and had left it there. As a matter of fact, he had pushed it a little over to one side, where the Hough and Daly door was. Nice of him. Twenty-five grand of high-priced complication pushed over to one side a little.
Three of Benotti’s delivery trucks were parked side by side. I walked past them and up the steps to the ramp. At one end was a double door with glass panels halfway up where it said Benotti’s Service. I looked through the glass and saw nobody. The shop was empty.
It was ten to eight and they opened on the hour. Or they did all the other days. I had ten minutes to get the machine out of the way because at eight sharp my army of five was due.
There was a little more life on the Hough and Daly side of the building. The big double door to the ramp was still closed but the square window next to the door showed the inside of an office and a girl taking the cover off an adding machine. The girl was a little one, all made-up and pretty, as if she might enjoy working back here near the loading ramp. I myself thought I might enjoy working back near the loading ramp. I knocked at her window.
She nodded, barely looking up, and called, “Just a minute.” I could hear that through the window. Then she walked out of the office and came around to the double door. She clanked it and rattled it from the other side and then had it open.
“I was wondering when you’d…. Oh,” she said.
“Good morning. I’m a little bit in a hurry, but if….”
“I thought you were one of the fellows next door. From next door, I mean. With the coffee.”
“No. As a matter of fact, there’s nobody next door, which is the….”
“They always make the coffee over there,” she said again. She looked very disappointed.
“There’s a little mix-up this morning. Nobody showed up yet and I need a little favor.”
She tilted her head and looked suspicious. “Like what?”
“This thing here,” I said, and nodded at the mixer on the platform. “I’d like it moved.”
“You want me for that? ”
It was five to eight.
“It looks bigger than both of us,” she said.
“What I mean is, you just open this door some more and I move it myself. In there, where you are.”
“Why?”
She didn’t open the door any further. I wasn’t the man with the coffee; I wasn’t anyone she knew. I heard a car at the end of the block, motor whining fast. I now talked at the same rate.
“Look, the thing, the machine, it actually….”
“It’s a mixer,” she said.
“Yes, and it actually belongs next door, the Benotti place, but nobody is there and by some mistake or other the thing—mixer, got left …”
“Mix-up.”
“Yes. Please, don’t interrupt What I’m trying to mix you—eh, tell you….”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the man who’s supposed to, who’s trying to just try and get that machine over there to over here, there, where you stand, and if you’ll just …”
“You sound like that car out there.”
The car was still whining in low and now that it was very much closer it slowed. I looked out to the street and wiped my hand across my face, but I wasn’t sweating. I never sweat. I just start shaking.
There was a woman behind the wheel and when she had passed the loading entrance I could hear her turn the corner. It was about three minutes to eight.
“Women drivers,” I said.
“Makes you nervous?”
“No.”
“I could have sworn you were nervous,” she said.
“Look, honey,” I said.
“Do we know each other?”
“No, but I feel that….”
“Then don’t call me honey.”
I took a deep breath, coughed slowly, and then smiled at her again. This was a simple smile, just harmless warmth.
“That mixer belongs to Blue Beat Studios. I….”
“I know.”
“I’m connected with Blue Beat because I hustle talent for them.”
“Aha,” she said,
Three of Benotti’s delivery trucks were parked side by side. I walked past them and up the steps to the ramp. At one end was a double door with glass panels halfway up where it said Benotti’s Service. I looked through the glass and saw nobody. The shop was empty.
It was ten to eight and they opened on the hour. Or they did all the other days. I had ten minutes to get the machine out of the way because at eight sharp my army of five was due.
There was a little more life on the Hough and Daly side of the building. The big double door to the ramp was still closed but the square window next to the door showed the inside of an office and a girl taking the cover off an adding machine. The girl was a little one, all made-up and pretty, as if she might enjoy working back here near the loading ramp. I myself thought I might enjoy working back near the loading ramp. I knocked at her window.
She nodded, barely looking up, and called, “Just a minute.” I could hear that through the window. Then she walked out of the office and came around to the double door. She clanked it and rattled it from the other side and then had it open.
“I was wondering when you’d…. Oh,” she said.
“Good morning. I’m a little bit in a hurry, but if….”
“I thought you were one of the fellows next door. From next door, I mean. With the coffee.”
“No. As a matter of fact, there’s nobody next door, which is the….”
“They always make the coffee over there,” she said again. She looked very disappointed.
“There’s a little mix-up this morning. Nobody showed up yet and I need a little favor.”
She tilted her head and looked suspicious. “Like what?”
“This thing here,” I said, and nodded at the mixer on the platform. “I’d like it moved.”
“You want me for that? ”
It was five to eight.
“It looks bigger than both of us,” she said.
“What I mean is, you just open this door some more and I move it myself. In there, where you are.”
“Why?”
She didn’t open the door any further. I wasn’t the man with the coffee; I wasn’t anyone she knew. I heard a car at the end of the block, motor whining fast. I now talked at the same rate.
“Look, the thing, the machine, it actually….”
“It’s a mixer,” she said.
“Yes, and it actually belongs next door, the Benotti place, but nobody is there and by some mistake or other the thing—mixer, got left …”
“Mix-up.”
“Yes. Please, don’t interrupt What I’m trying to mix you—eh, tell you….”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the man who’s supposed to, who’s trying to just try and get that machine over there to over here, there, where you stand, and if you’ll just …”
“You sound like that car out there.”
The car was still whining in low and now that it was very much closer it slowed. I looked out to the street and wiped my hand across my face, but I wasn’t sweating. I never sweat. I just start shaking.
There was a woman behind the wheel and when she had passed the loading entrance I could hear her turn the corner. It was about three minutes to eight.
“Women drivers,” I said.
“Makes you nervous?”
“No.”
“I could have sworn you were nervous,” she said.
“Look, honey,” I said.
“Do we know each other?”
“No, but I feel that….”
“Then don’t call me honey.”
I took a deep breath, coughed slowly, and then smiled at her again. This was a simple smile, just harmless warmth.
“That mixer belongs to Blue Beat Studios. I….”
“I know.”
“I’m connected with Blue Beat because I hustle talent for them.”
“Aha,” she said,
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