Chapter Thirteen

                                 Oysters

New York, N.Y.

5/4/15
2:16 PM

In the parking lot at the foot of the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel.

“Yes…” Morris said “... take me there.”

During the twenty-five minute ride from lower Manhattan to the Jewelry Mart Center— As this was the final step in his five step plan, everything he’d accomplished had ‘seemingly’ been so well planed and preformed — still having the thought that ‘It had all been so easy!’ Becoming more paranoid by the minute, even considering having Ben drop him off someplace other than in front of ‘The Diamond Mart’. But if the police or a detective should ever come ‘this’ far, and if Ben were to be found and questioned, he knew I had conducted some business at National City Bank, and maybe from there…” So lost in thought that...

2:41 PM

Pulling to the curb “… “Here we are.” Ben announced.

Taking a deep breath as, stepping from the car, “I should be back in…” having no intention of haggling over price “...ten, fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll be here, boss.” The taxi moving twenty feet from the Diamond Mart’s marked street entrance.

Although comfortable outside, becoming warm in this stuffy old building, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the throat button as he walked up the four flights of stairs then to showroom 402.

Whereas the sign on the door’s window said ‘Open’, the door to showroom 402 was locked. No one in the showroom, the door to the workroom open and the light on.

Taking time enough for Morris to consider the man might not be in, rapping on the window a second though, pulling the jewellers attention from the gold and emerald ring he had been in the process of designing. “Hold on!”

Replacing the jeweler’s loupe for his eyeglasses, coming from the back room and seeing Morris on the other side of the showroom door. “Hold on!” Geneasta said again, pointing his index finger upward to signify one minute, as — Having the dangerous experience of an angry man feeling he’d been swindled after selling some piece of jewelry that later, in thought, the man felt he should have received more for the —usually nabbed— gem, necklace or ring, feeling he might be able to force more money from the old ‘dago’.

As Anton Geneasta had already recouped near half his three thousand dollar expenditure by the resale of but two of the eight diamonds. Thinking, Why else would this guy be here? Turning back to the rear room, removing the .38 revolver from a drawer, tucking it beneath his belt under the smock he wore.

Approaching the door, but not unlocking it. “You miss me…” he asked “...or got more stones to sell?”

“Neither…” flipping both hands from side to side “...here to buy a ring.”

“Well now…” unlocking, opening the door and stepping aside “...come on in.”

Stepping to the glass showcase. “Saw this…” tapping the glass above what looked like, or might have been an engagement ring “...yesterday, but didn’t know then I’d be needing one.”

“One what?”
“An engagement ring.”

“Let’s see; between yesterday and today you met a woman that you’re going to marry?”

Smiling. “I guess you could say that. She doesn’t know I’m going to ask, or that we’ve ‘got’ to do it tomorrow, or even if she’ll want to do it at all.”

Asked in a derogatory tone. “She the kind of woman that likes jewellery?”

“No, I don’t think so, but think it’ll make it easier for me to ask.” Tapping the glass again. “Show me, will you.”

“Sure.” Taking the ring from the small stand holding it upright, but first polishing it with a soft cloth taken from the smock’s pocket, Geneasta handed it to Morris.”

Holding it uptight inches from his eyes. “Beautiful ring. Diamond’s about what?”

An idea coming to the old man. “Know diamonds, do you?” He asked.

Not wanting to admit too much, but thinking he’s not about to call the police. “Yes. Well considering our business yesterday, you might say I do.”

“Here…” digging into the pocket “...see for yourself.”

Holding the loupe to his eye. “Seems to be about a carat and a half.” Looking closer. Scrunching his eye to see better. “it’s not a perfect stone, though.”

“Yeah, that’s what he... You ever hear of ‘Giuseppe Morello’?”

Handing the loupe back, but holding onto the ring. “No, course not! Why would I?”

“Giuseppe was a gangster here in New York.” Geneasta said. “Led a gang of thugs in East Harlem and in Little Sicily in Manhattan's Lower East Side. Maybe ‘cause we were both dagos and came from the same city he liked me, and him and me sometimes did...uh, business together. That ring…” gesturing to Morris hand “...he bought for his Jew mistress and even paid me...” lying “..three hundred in advance to design it like he said and told me, ‘she’d never check it’ so the diamond ‘don’t need to be so first class’.”

Placing the ring onto the showcase. “So it’s sold?”

“In a way, yeah.”

Cocking his head, his eyebrows raising in question. “What’s that mean: ‘in a way’?”

“My, uh, sometimes associate, ‘Giuseppe Morello’, like I said, he paid…” actually paid in full “...me three hundred but got knocked off…”

“ ‘Knocked off’?”

“You’re a ‘Brit’, huh, and don’t understand English?”

“ ‘English’, yes. But American sometimes not so good.”

“ ‘Knocked off’ means he got…” now playing with Morris “...croaked.”

Knowing he was being teased, however, “ ‘Croaked’?” Morris asked.

“ ‘Bumped off’.” Laughing, “Giuseppe, got himself shot. Actually got himself shot five times still owing me three hundred for the ring.”

“So?” Morris questioned.

“So, tell you what I’m going to do...” Anton Geneasta said to AKA Morris Pink “...seeing as two hundred bucks…” now the Jewellers eyebrows rising in question.

Still going along with the game. “I know what ‘bucks’ are.”

“In a regular market, that ring, even with the shitty stone would sell for eight, nine hundred, and seeing as I sold it to poor Giuseppe…”

“Who got himself shot five times.”

“Yeah. And seeing as I sold it to poor Giuseppe for five hundred and seeing as he’d already paid me three hundred, how’s about you cover the other two hundred and it’s all yours.”

“Deal!” Reaching into his jacket pocket, taking the wallet out and returning three of the twenty, one hundred dollar bills he’d received yesterday back to Anton Geneasta.

“You got some kind of a fancy box for it?” Morris asked.

3:12 PM

The little black box in his coat pocket jiggling alongside tonight’s two tickets to ‘The Mikado’, the two stapled strips of tomorrows train tickets and two, one dollar bills. “Ben, bring me back to the bank, will you.”

3:38 PM

Somewhat familiar with the area now having walked to Bertha’s Boarding Hotel with Agnes yesterday afternoon, and to National City Bank this morning. “Ben…” mid-way between, and not wanting to chance that she might see him if dropped off at the bank “...stop here, will you.”

Pulling to the curb, Ben shifted the Ford engine into the neutral position and leaned through the open window as Morris came alongside.

“You’ve done real good today, my friend.” offering his hand.

No passenger had ever referred to the Negro cab driver as his ‘friend’, let alone shake his hand.

“So here’s a little bonus…” taking the second five dollar bill from his wallet, as promised, along with the additional two dollars from his coat pocket “...thank you.” Morris said.

“Thank you, boss!” Lifting his hips in order to put the seven dollars into his pants pocket. “Let me tell you…” figuring the somewhat secretive stops might have been something the man wanted to keep to himself “...anyone ever asks, I ‘never’ saw any Englishman.” Tapping his forehead in a ‘goodbye’ gesture, the Model T Ford pulled from the curb.

Watching as the taxi moved from sight; remembering, Morris buttoned the collar button and tightened his tie.

3:50PM

A bit of a wind coming up, the late afternoon becoming cooler, lifting the coats collar as walking on, step by step, Morris’ mind replayed the accomplishment of yesterday and, so far of this day: Smuggling the eight diamonds off the ship and past customs. Locating a jeweler that didn’t much care where the diamonds had come from, or who had presented them for sale and receiving more U.S. dollars than expected; then banking the three thousand dollars in a safe deposit box until learning of a business— of all things, a hardware store, in, of all places, Loveland, Ohio— and purchasing the store Via Western Union, telegraph and wire transfer, while at the same time—patting the confirming telegram in his jacket pocket — transferring the balance of his three thousand U.S. dollars safely into his own bank account at Loveland National Bank.

Then tomorrow— patting the stapled train tickets in his coat pocket— becoming lost in the midlands of America Via the Atlantic &Pacific Railway puffing it’s way to AKA Morris Pink’s new hardware store.

What Morris did not expect, however, was meeting twenty-two year old Agnes Longstead who turned out to be the most intelligent, strong willed woman he had ever met, bravely holding a man’s worthwhile position as a teller at National City Bank, whom, in this virginal, thirty-two year old man’s eyes, was an extremely attractive woman.

The fact that Morris had awaken this morning with an erection in hand and Agnes in mind also giving thought to — never being in love, the warm sensation he felt whenever near Agnes very possibly, Morris thought, could be love.

What might be the probability?

If this twenty-two year old, virginal woman should happen to feel as Morris felt?

Well, then, puffing their way to the midlands of America Via the Atlantic &Pacific Railway with, AKA Morris Pink and his new wife happily alongside.

4:02 PM

As expected there were two new tenants sitting on the outdoor wicker chairs.

Aware that if he tried too hard not to be obvious, he would probably appear to be obvious. “Afternoon.” Morris said, nodding his head as he entered Bertha’s, and once inside saw three other newcomers at the card table in the living room drinking wine — as Bertha did not offer alcohol of any sort — he supposed a bottle had been brought in by one of the new people. As the three were involved with their own conversation, Morris did pass on the way to his room completely unobserved.

6:05 PM

Remembering Bertha’s admonishment: ‘ I serve one full meal a day, but ‘only’ if you’re here in time to eat, and we eat sharply at six pm.’

Allowing all of Bertha’s tenants time to be seated at the dinner table giving scant attention to any passers by in the hallway.

Knocking on Agnes’ door at five after six.

As the door opened, sensing a pulsing within his heart. “Agnes…” absolutely sincerely stated “...you look beautiful!”

Wearing a light blue colored dress consisting of a high-waist skirt with a jacket of covered buttons and loops, with the hemline coming to just above her ankle showing black pumps with a two inch high heel.

Feeling the exhilarated beat of her heart — Moderately rotund, with a light complected, brown eyed, cherub like face crowned by fashionably cut, dark brown hair — “Morris…” in the eyes of the beholder “... you look wonderful!”

Prior to becoming a European jewel thief, having been employed as a salesman of fine jewellery in a wealthy area of Berlin, always having to dress the part of projecting an image of refinement, the attention to detail, from the fit of the garments to the choice of accessories needed, exemplified AKA Morris Pinks appearance.

The initiative at this time taken more so the woman’s than the mans as taking his right hand into her left, unintentionally placing Morris on the far side of the — Agnes making a half wave to Mrs. Baily assisting Bertha serving the now eight guests— as they passed the dining room as Morris turned his head to the left.

6:09 PM

“Seem to have pretty much of a full house tonight.”

“Most of them will check out tomorrow, then we’ll get a few more and then it’ll quiet down till another ship come in.”

Beginning to walk. “Where’d you like to eat?”

“Got a taste for a nice medium rare steak and…” giggling “...oysters.”

“ ‘Oysters’?” Taking her hand. “Never knew a lady that liked oysters.”

Squeezing his fingers— mainly intended to show she was glad he’d taken the initiative this time. “Women don’t eat oysters in England?”

‘When at first you practice to deceive, oh what a tangled web you weave.’

In England, sometimes, he thought, in Germany never so far as I know. “Sometimes I’d think possibly British women might…” he said “...it’s only that I’ve never been with any that do because eating oysters takes some, uh..”

“Finesse.”

“Yes. ‘Finesse’. Ladies can’t just go around slurping oysters out of their half shells in public, can they?”

“Oh, my sweet man…” patting his butt “...this American lady sure can.”

Enjoying this conversation, and especially the pat on his backside. “So…” Morris asked “...you know of someplace to get a juicy…” — another thing, he’d never been with a woman that ever wanted anything but ‘well done’ meat— “… steak and oysters?”

“49th Street theatre we’re going to?”

“Yes.”

“I know of just the place!”

“Hold on,” Morris said, stepping to the curb he hailed a passing taxi.”

“It’s not all that far…” once seated “...we could have walked.”

Both hands held on her lap. “Don’t worry, honey, we’ve plenty of money.”

‘Honey’? Agnes thought. He called me ‘honey’ and said ‘we’ve’ plenty of money’. Realising Morris was no longer thinking of them in a singular sense. “Oh, yeah!” she said. “This American girl would also like a martini.”

6:31 PM

Morris did have dates with women every now and then… None that he remotely came close to wanting intimacy with, or that he’d cared to see a third or even a second time; as the German women he’d known, mostly through his work at the jewellery store, were too deeply into themselves and their maintenance of whatever social level they’d been able to achieve.

But this one. This American woman. This Agnes Longstead; how different she was from all the women Morris had ever know. How real! How down to earth— as he soon discovered when both she and he, their eyes touching and holding over the hard, wrinkled rim of upheld oyster shells, when both— with complete lack of ‘finesse’, slurped at the same time— falling in love over slurping and swallowing of live oysters?

Of course unknown by either Morris or Agnes — both having strong feelings for the other— this weird, untimely circumstance unexpectedly taking both aback.

Falling in love over slurping oysters?

Sitting back, waiting for their dinners to arrive.

“You know…” taking a slug of martini as pulling her thoughts together, said in an inflection Agnes hoped would came across as half serious and half joking “… I never met a man that was able to eat an oyster while with a woman without becoming self-conscious or embarrassed …” her tone becoming sombre “… So think I’ll keep you around.”

In truth, Agnes’ female oyster manners acquired during those many times while dining alone.

Taking another sip of martini, becoming serious. “That’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Ousters?”

Chuckling. “No, not oysters…” Speaking softly. “ ‘Keeping me around’.”

The tone of voice causing Agnes to feel an immediate sense of concern.

Looking up as the waiter placed like dishes of medium rare ‘T’ bone steak and huge Idaho Baked potatoes, along with separate bowls of mixed green salad before them.

Stalling for time, cutting into the steak, “I’m have to be leaving tomorrow.” He said as, putting the meat into his mouth, chewed.

Turning the martini glass by it’s stem. “You’ve business elsewhere?”

Taking time to swallow. “Yes.” Staring downward, towards the one remaining oyster. “Remember that hardware store Charlie talked about?”

“Someplace in Ohio?”

Considering cutting another piece of steak, but wanting to say what he had to say over with. Instead, taking a mouthful of martini. “I bought it.”

Suddenly no longer hungry. Taking a drink also. “Without even seeing it?”

“Yes.” Knowing this completely went against her business sense or even common sense. “Charlie said it was in someplace called ‘Loveland. so after I saw you off to work this morning, I took a cab to ‘Grand Central’…”

Cutting him off. “Why ‘Grand Central?” Agnes asked quizzically.

“I knew there’d be telephones there, and was pretty sure there’d also be a ‘Western Union’ office.”

“Of course there’d be both!”

“Yes…” motioning to her plate “...it’s a long story, so you’d better eat before it gets cold.”

Looking downward, Agnes unenthusiastically cut into her steak, as did Morris.

“Any way…” chuckling “...you ever try to get an out of state telephone number?” Receiving no answer. “Anyway, when I finally got through to Lowland, by way of Cincinitti, by the way, I connected with, uh, Loveland National Bank, which apparently is the only bank in town and was told that the hardware store had been placed into bankruptcy just days earlier, and I could buy it out for three hundred and, uh, thirty dollars.”

Swallowing what she’d had in her mouth, and cutting another piece of meat. “So you did?” Being a teller in a major New York bank, Agnes knew there were procedures to doing a transaction such as this. “How?”

Cutting and spearing another piece of steak, but not eating. “I told the bank manager, a man by the name of, uh, Forester, that I did want to buy the store and am directly across the way from a Western Union office and would wire transfer thirty dollars immediately as an earnest money down payment— only had forty-three dollars left with me at the time, and needed cash for our tickets to ‘The Mikado’ and cab fares— and as soon as I receive a return telegram telling me that you… ‘Loveland National Bank’ had received and accepted my offer and down payment, I will go to my bank and withdraw the additional three hundred dollars and return to this Western Union office and have the money wire transferred to you.”

This said, the piece of steak still on the fork, rather than eat it, Morris signalled the waiter, holding the empty martini glass upward.

“That’s when I saw you at the bank...” draining her glass, Agnes also held it upright “...when you came for the three hundred and closed your account?”

“Agnes… Honey, I had much more than three hundred in that safe deposit box…”

This conversation becoming extremely serious. The three foot width of the table separating them. Both sitting upright. Both having an inclination that for good or bad their lives were about to change.

Interrupting…“It’s not my business…”

Those split second micro-thoughts as the ruffling of pages in a book infusing Morris’ brain: I don’t really have to tell her much more. We could see the play, go home and I could pack up and leave before anyone is awake and just be gone before anyone wakes up. But then they would wonder where and why I disappeared so secretively and if the police should track me to the bank— I did tell the customs man that I had an account at National City Bank, and if they could track me there, they’d certainly talk to Agnes and they’d tell them about my disappearance.

But I really like her!

Taking a leap of fate...

Forcefully stated:.“I’m making it your business!”

Her breath catching before asking, “Why? Why would you do that?”

Unhunching his shoulders, slumping forward. “Agnes…” he said “...I’ve never been in love, so don’t know exactly how I’m supposed to feel but each time I see you— I don’t know, sounds silly but each time I see you, you kind of take my breath away all I want to do is to hold you, and… It’s not, at least I think it’s not a, uh, you know… Don’t know if I can even say this to you, but it’s not a sexual thing…” Thinking, I think.

This modernly accomplished twenty-two year old virginal woman aware of her own feelings, Or maybe it is. Agnes hopefully thought.

“ ‘Why’ you asked, am I making it ‘your business’,to tell you how much money I had in the safety deposit box. So I’ll tell you, it was twenty-five hundred dollars plus…” tapping his inner jacket pocket “...the— after paying for the ring— three hundred I have here.”

Waiting now, as the waiter — replacing the two empty cocktail glasses —that he’d placed onto the tray— with fresh martinis. Agnes and Morris both nodding ‘thank you’, as, Backing away, nodded ‘you’re welcome’.

Surprised! Her back straightening. “Two hundred dollars, Morris? That’s a cash! And why, in God’s name, are you carrying all that money with you?”

Deciding. Hating to, but having to continue and fortify the lie for safety sake. “Look, Agnes, I’ve got to be at that bank in Loveland day after tomorrow…”

“Day after tomorrow?” Agnes questioned. “You’ve ‘got’ to be there on the sixth! Why?”

“Forester…”

“The bank manager?”

“Yes…” taking more than a slight sip of martini “...he told me that the store had ‘just’ gone onto bankruptcy and there might be someone else interested— lying — and that he’d hold my earnest money for forty-eight hours, or until the bank closes at five, day after tomorrow and then, if the other people are there, at the bank with cash in hand the next morning, he’d take their deal.”

“I thought you said that you’d already bought the store!?” Agnes emphatically questioned.

What a tangled web we weave.

Becoming confused over — what he’d told Agnes regarding the thirty dollars ‘earnest’ money and the three hundred dollar final payment.

“Yes, I did, but haven’t signed the final papers, and so that, so Forester told me, it still leaves an opening for those other people.” Looking intently at Agnes, wondering if she’d bought his prevarication, Morris took a second healthy swig of Martini.

Her banking experience telling her differently. Taking a few seconds attempting to completely buy this improbable story.

Cutting into the steak, in deep thought, her eyes steady on Morris, Agnes chewed.

Did Agnes believe all that Morris had told her?

First off, she ‘wanted’ to believe him. ‘Secondly’. Maybe, because not all banks operate the same way. Maybe, who knows about this hick, rinky-dink bank in the middle of nowhere. Maybe that is the way they do business. And ‘thirdly! His narrative altogether truthful or not, Agnes admired that the thought, planning and expertise that had gone into the— probable— purchase of a hardware store in, of all places, Loveland, Ohio.

Doing her best not to sound cynical, swallowing — both the food in her mouth and apparently Morris’ version of how he came, or will become owner of the hardware store in Loveland, Ohio.

“So that’s it?” She asked. “When will you be leaving?” Halting a moment to bring her emotions under control. “Will I even see you tomorrow morning?”

Time now to get to the hard part of his well planned narrative.

“Of course you will! Train’s not leaving until tomorrow night, and we’ve a million things to get out of the way before we go.”

Realising what he’d said. ‘We’?” Both hands flat upon the table. Her head nodded forward. “What do you mean, ‘we’.” Her heart thumping. “And what kind of ‘million things’ we’ve got to get out of the way?”

Assuming! “Well…” thinking she will, but still, assuming “... first thing tomorrow morning we got to tell your aunt…”

Nervelessly anxious to hear the words. “Tell Bertha What?” Agnes asked.

All the plans he’d plotted for this morning accomplished. Among those pressing thoughts, he’d also been playing the sequence of how, of what and of when he’d planed on saying what he’d planed on saying before asking her. However very often words come uninvited before the thought.

“That’ you’re’ going to be leaving tomorrow…” bumbling a bit “... well, actually you’ll be leaving ‘today’ when you tell her, uh, tomorrow.”

“Why’d I do that?” By now thinking she knew the answer. “To tell ell aunt Bertha that I’ll be leaving tomorrow?” Thinking she knew, but, “Where am I going?”

His tone more light-hearted than anxious.“With me, of course.”

“Along with you to that hardware store someplace in Ohio?”

Yes, but then you’ve got to go to your bank and give notice.

“Yes. Okay, But then what? “To do what?” Her planed tone hardening. “To be your bookkeeper?”

Off-time the best-laid plans of mice and men...

Sighing,“No…” reaching into his pocket, “...not my bookkeeper.” removing the small box, Morris slid it across the white tablecloth “But if you would, as my wife.”

Looking into his eyes as, accepting the box, Elsa’s eyes tearing as she opened it and stared at the beautifully crafted gold and diamond ring.

What else would a ring look like for the ‘Jew’ mistress of a Mafia boss?

“Oh, Morris...” stammering “...it’s the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen!”

Taking her hand into his. “You’ll wear the ting then! You’ll marry me?”

“Yes..” reaching across the table caressing his cheek with the back of her hand “...of course.”

“Then we’ve got to find someone to marry us, and the train leaves for Cincinitti at six-O- five.”

7:35 PM

Softly felt emotions high, finishing dinner slowly, Agnes’ eyes darting from the steak on her plate to the ring on her finger and back again.

As beautiful as it was, knowing it had to cost a fortune, but not questioning the cost or where he got it.

7:50 PM

Into coffee and apple pie.

“Guess it would be a good idea to talk to Mrs. Baily again. See if she’s willing to help Bertha pretty much full time now.”

“I’ll give your aunt money enough to cover Mrs. Baily’s first month.”

“What time’s the play begin?”

Glancing at his wrist watch. “It’s pretty much about time now.”

Both anxiously contemplating the commitment the twenty-two year old woman and thirty-two year old man had made to each other.

“You really want to see it?”

“Not really. I saw it in…” about to say Berlin “… London a year or so ago.”

“That’s good.” Agnes said. “Bother you if we walk home?”

Aware that Bertha’s Boarding Hotel was just about two miles away, and it was a nice spring night. “No, If you’d like, it will be okay with me.”

Paying the check, and leaving a generous gratuity, hand in hand Solomon Berkowitz AKA Morris Pinowskiz AKA Morris Pink and Agnes Longstead began to walk.

“You know anything about running a hardware store?”

“No, but I like working with my hands…”

Feeling the pads of his fingers. “Doesn’t fee l like it.”

“The business I had…” knowing he was going to have to come up with a story for the reason for having so much money, but not now “...didn’t require much physical labour.”

8:43 PM

“Going to want to get into bed soon as we get in.”

Concerned about ‘what happens now’? I’ll see you at breakfast then.”

“No, silly! With you! I want to get into bed with you!”

_________________________________________________
 

                                              155

 

                                    Chapter Fourteen

                                      Inconspicuous