Little Caesar
Steve Gollancz. Rico feared them both. Sometimes when the three of them
were alone together he would caution them. There was only one thing
that reassured Rico. Chiggi’s prosperity depended on him, and Rico knew
that both Chicago Red and Chiggi were aware of it.
At about seven o’clock one night Rico went out for supper. He ate at
the little Italian restaurant where he and Otero used to split a bowl
of soup when things were bad. He always sat facing the front door at a
table in the back of the place. In this position he could see everyone
who came in and also he could keep an eye on the people at the tables.
On his right and a couple of feet ahead of him was a little window
which looked out on an alley. While Rico was finishing his coffee
he happened to glance at the window. When he did, a face which had been
pressed against the window-pane was hastily withdrawn. Rico got up, put
on his hat and paid his check.
“I’m going out the back way,” he said to the counterman.
“O.K., boss.”
“If anybody comes in here and asks for Louis De Angelo take a good look
at him.”
“All right, boss,” said the counterman.
Rico went out through the kitchen door, which opened onto a little
cement court where the refuse from the restaurant was dumped. The big
garbage cans along the wall were in the shadow and, as Rico stepped
out, a man jumped up from behind one of the cans and put a gun against
him. Rico threw himself to the ground, the gun exploded harmlessly, and
the man made a break for the alley, stumbling over the cans. Rico fired
from a prone position and missed. Then he jumped to his feet and ran
out into the alley. The man had disappeared.
“God,” said Rico, “if that boy didn’t almost pull one on me.”
One of the cooks opened the back door and put his head out.
“What the hell!” he said.
“Damned if I know,” said Rico; “a couple of guys was popping at each
other out here in the alley.”
“Some of them bootleggers,” said the cook.
Rico took a cab back to Chiggi’s. He was very much perturbed. Whoever
that boy was he certainly meant business.
“Well,” said Rico, “somebody has sure spilled something.”
As soon as he came in Chiggi rushed up to him and grabbed him by the
arm.
“Louis,” he said, “Red’s drunk and we can’t do nothing with him.”
Rico stared at Chiggi.
“Where’s he been?”
“Why,” said Chiggi, “he’s been on a bat with some Chicago guys.”
“Hell,” cried Rico, “where is he?”
Chiggi led Rico back into one of the private rooms. Red was
sitting at a table with a half empty quart of whiskey on the table
beside him. When he saw Rico he cried:
“If it ain’t old Rico himself! By God, I been drinking all day. I can
hardly see but nobody can put me under the table, ain’t that so, boss?
Yes sir, I’d like to see the bastard that could drink Rico’s buddy
under the table.”
Rico turned to Chiggi.
“A guy tried to pop me over at Frank’s. This bird has spilled
something. I got to be moving.”
Chiggi’s eyes got big.
“You gonna pull out, Louis?”
“I got to,” said Rico; “somebody’s looking for that seven grand.”
“Jesus, Louis,” said Chiggi, “what we gonna do without you?”
“Best you can,” said Rico. “Go get me a cab, Chiggi, I’m moving right
now.”
Chiggi went out of the room. Rico took Red by the shoulders and shook
him. Red blinked his eyes.
“Red,” said Rico, “was you on a bat with some Chicago guys?”
“Was I?” cried Red; “spent a hundred bucks on them birds.”
“Any of them know me?”
Red rolled his head from side to side, and sang, then he smashed his
fists down on the table.
“Rico,” he said, “old Red’s going back to the big burg, yes sir, old
Red’s tired of this tank town. Old Red’s got a good stake now and he’s
moving. They run me out once but I ain’t scairt of them no more. I’m
going back and show ’em who Red Hackett is. Yeah bo!”
Rico shook him.
“Listen, Red,” he said, “did any of them birds know me?”
Red lolled his head, trying to focus his eyes on Rico.
“One of them guys was a personal friend of yours,” said Red; “fact, he
asked me if you wasn’t laying up here, see, he knew all right; wasn’t
no harm in telling him nothing.”
“Who was he?” shouted Rico.
Red thought for a moment then he said:
“I can’t seem to remember. He’s a wop, all right, a bald-headed wop.”
“Scabby!” Rico exclaimed.
Good God, wasn’t that a break! Scabby hated him and Scabby would sell
his own mother out for a split on seven grand. Rico felt resentful.
Just his damn luck to get mixed up with a bunch of yellow-bellies and
softies.
Chiggi came in.
“Cab out in front, Louis,” he said.
Rico pointed at Red.
“That guy spilled the works. For two bits I’d bump him off.”
Rico was furious. He made a move toward his armpit, but one of the
bartenders opened the door and yelled:
“The bulls!”
“What!” cried Rico.
The bartender was trembling all over and his face was white.
“Police car out in front, boss.”
Rico made a dive for the door but Chiggi grabbed him by the arm.
“Out the back, Louis.”
Chiggi leapt across the room and pulled a switch and all the lights in
the place went out. Then he took Rico by the arm and led him through
the hall and out into a little court at the rear.
“So long, Louis,” he said.
Chiggi slammed the door. Rico was in utter darkness.
“A hell of a chance I got,” he said.
He stepped cautiously out into the alley back of the court and took a
look around. The alley was blind to his right; to his left it came out
onto a main thoroughfare and there was a bright arc light at that end.
Rico took out his gun and moved slowly toward the arc light.
“You can’t never tell,” he said; then, in an excess of rage: “They’ll
never put no cuffs on this baby.”
When he was within fifty feet of the main thoroughfare a man appeared
at the end of the alley way, a big man in a derby hat. He saw Rico
and immediately blew a blast on his whistle. Rico raised his gun and
pulled the trigger; it missed fire.
Rico was frantic. He wanted to live. For the first time in his life he
addressed a vague power which he felt to be stronger than himself.
“Give me a break! Give me a break!” he implored.
The man in the derby hat raised his arm and Rico rushed him, pumping
lead. Rico saw a long spurt of flame and then something hit him a
sledge-hammer blow in the chest. He took two steps, dropped his gun,
and fell flat on his face. He heard a rush of feet up the alley.
“Mother of God,” he said, “is this the end of Rico?”
Transcriber’s Notes
1. Italicised words are indicated by _underscores_.
2. Basic misspelled words have been corrected. Local speech spelling
and grammar has been left unchanged.
3. “* * * * *” indicates a “thought break” represented in the printed
book as a larger gap between paragraphs.
4. “Edit Distance” in Corrections table below refers to the
Levenshtein Distance.
Corrections:
Page Source Correction Edit distance
208 Valesquez Velázquez 1
260 shriek of breaks shriek of brakes 2
280 pursuade persuade 1