Then someone says—call a cop. So I figure things’re gonna get hot soon. Maybe there’ll be a good fight, I says to Dot. So what does she do? Come on Mickey, she says, let’s go see Frankie Laine. Laine Schmaine. Aah, fo’ Chrissakes anyway. What can ya expect from a dame?
Haah? So I says to her—in a couple o’ minutes. Can’tch wait a couple o’ minutes? A cop’ll come soon I says to her. Cops always stick their noses in when there’s a crowd.
So I turn to a guy on the other side of me and I says to him—where did this guy come from?
Who the hell knows? he says. All I know is, I was walkin’ by, all of a sudden, bang! There he is, standin’ by the window.
So we look at the guy. Would ya look at the guy, says this guy. Look at those teeth. He looks like a caveman.
I’m gettin’ to that Mack. I’m gettin’ to it. Hold your water.
So I look at the guy with the club, see? His eyes is small. His chin sticks way out. He looks like . . . you remember the time we cut school that day. What day? Shut up a second and I’ll tell you what day!
You remember we went through Central Park and we went to that museum? You know, way up there. Around 80th street or somethin’. I don’t know. Anyway, you remember those cases o’ heads?
No, ya jerk, don’t ya remember? It was upstairs someplace. Well, what the hell. Anyway, the heads showed what men looked like from the time they was apes.
So what? So this guy looked like what men looked like t’ousands o’ years ago. Or millions. Who knows? Anyway, this guy looks like a caveman. Yeah.
Let’s see. Where was I? Oh, yeah.
So I hear some guy say—this is hideous.
Yeah! Ha! This guy says—this is hideous. Ain’t that a kick? Well who the hell d’you think? The old jerk! With his bible. I did so tell ya it was a bible. Awright, so I said he had a book. So I meant it was a bible.
So I look at this guy see? The old guy.
He looks like one of those jerks you see down in the Square. You know, giving the crap about—comes the revolution! You know. Reds. Yeah.
Anyway I figure I’ll humor the old fart. So I says—where do ya think the guy come from?
Well, holy Jeez, if this guy doesn’t give me the eye like I spit on his old lady or something.
Don’t you know? he says to me. Don’t you see?
Yeah. How do ya like that? Don’t I see. See what fo’ crap’s sake? That’s what I wanna know.
So I look the old jerk over. Some goddam Commie I figure. I would’ve give him the knee if there wasn’t so many guys around.
Well, to make a long story short, all of a sudden the crowd jumps back! I get almost knocked down. Dot yells blue murder. Look out! someone else yells.
So I look up front.
The crazy guy is tryin’ to jump some broad up front. He’s growlin’ at her. Yeah! Look, was I there or wasn’t I? Well, shut up then. I was there. I saw the bastid with my own eyes. Take my woid.
The guy even unloads his club and takes a swat at the broad.
Yeah! That’s right. Boy, what a kick. It was like a crappin’ movie.
Get a cop, get a cop! the broads start yellin’, jumpin’, out o’ their pants. They’re all the same. Somethin’ happens and they go runnin’ for cops.
Yeah, and some old character is standin’ in an ashcan and yellin’—Police! Police! Help, police! Yeah! Ya shoulda seen the slob. You woulda died.
So everybody is excited and the crowd’s breakin’ it up. But there’s more crowds pushin’ in, see? To see what’s goin’ on. So everybody’s shovin’ and pushin’, pushin’ and shovin’. Scene from a crappin’ movie.
What? The guy with the club? Aah, he’s back against the window again. Sure. His eyes is rollin’ around like crazy. All the time he’s showin’ his teeth. It was a riot Mack, take it from me.
So somebody gets a cop. No, wait a second. That ain’t all.
This cop pushes through the crowd, see? Big son of a bitch. You know the kind. All right, break it up, break it up, he says. Same old crap all the time. Break it up.
He comes up to the guy with the club.
And who do you think you are, he says, Superman? He gives the guy a shove. Come on ya bum, he says, you’re under . . .
And all of a sudden, boppo! The guy swings his club and whacks the bull over the nut. Jeez did he slug him! The cop goes down like a sack of potatoes. Blood comes out his ears.
Everyone gives a yell. Dot grabs my hand and pulls me down towards Eight Avenue.
But the guy isn’t chasin’ anybody. So I pulls away from Dot.
Come on Mickey, she says, let’s go to the show. Is she scared. She’s goin’ in her . . . haah? Awright!
So I says I ain’t missin’ this for nothin’. What a broad.
You’d think a guy got a chance everyday to see a show like that.
She keeps whinin’. You told me you was takin’ me to the Paramount, she says.
Look baby, I says, Look, you’ll get to the Paramount, see? Just keep your pants on. Did I tell her right? What the hell. Ya can’t let ’em walk on ya. Am I right or am I wrong?
Haah? Oh yeah.
Well I leave her down by the Automat down the street. I says I’ll be right back. I just wanna get a good look at the knocked out cop.
So I go back. There isn’t many people around. They was all scared I guess. Jeez how that guy cracked that cop! I could still hear it, Mack.
So the cop is out cold see? But there’s another cop comin’. He has his gun out. Sure, whattaya think. You think they take a chance? Hell no. Pull out their rods. What do they care they might hit innocent bystanders. Aah, you know cops.
Stand back everybody! yells the cop. Stand back! Jeez. All the time! They say the same things.
So-o, I watch him move in on the guy with the club. He’s still standin’ by that store window. The caveman I’m talkin’ about. Pay attention will ya!
So the cop says—put down that club if you value your life. Uh-huh. How do you like that?
Well this character just growls. He don’t know what the hell the cop is talkin’ about. He starts to scream. Like a animal. Gets down in a crouch like Godoy used to, remember? Yeah.
Does he drop the club? Are you kiddin’? He has it in his mitt so tight you couldn’t drag it out with ten horses. Yeah.
And he’s kinda bouncin’ on his feet too. Yeah. Like that ape in the movies, what the hell’s its name?
Anyway, bouncin’ and puffin’. Yeah. Jeez, it was funny. Ooop, ooop, ooop, the guy is sayin’. You shoulda been there.
So the cop holds up his gun, see?
I’m warnin’ ya, he says. You put down that club and come along peaceably or else.
The guy growls.
Then, get this, the store’s front door opens all of a sudden.
Officer, officer! yells the guy. Don’t you shoot out my brand new window!
Laugh! I t’ought I’d die.
But the cop keeps comin’. Everybody’s quiet and watchin’. All the cars are stopped. Horns was honkin’. This big crowd all around watchin’ the cop movin’ in on this crazy guy. Yeah, a regular scene.
Drop that club! says the cop. He takes another step.
The crazy guy jumps!
Bang! goes the rod. Tears a hole out the guy’s right shoulder. He goes floppin’ back. Falls on the sidewalk. Squirmin’ around. Blood all over the place. Jeez what a mess.
Get this though!
Even with half his shoulder shot off, this guy starts gettin’ up again. Yeah! Jeez you never seen nothin’ like it, I tell ya Mack. What stren’th!
Well the cop moves in fast and gives him a whack on the head with a butt. The guy goes down. But he gets up again! Honest I never seen such stren’th.
He takes a swing at the cop with his left arm. The cop gives him another on
the head. The guy goes down for good. He’s out.
No wait, there’s some more.
After the ambulance comes and they all get carried away, I go back to Dot. Sure, she’s still there. Whattaya think? No dame is gonna run out on dough. Am I right or wrong?
So we start back up the street. I see the blood on the sidewalk. The slob from the store is tryin’ to mop it up. Kills his business, see?
Then I notice, who’s walkin’ beside me but the old jerk with the bible.
Well whattaya say? I says to him, kiddin’ him along. You know.
He looks at me. Doesn’t say nothin’, just looks at me like he was tryin’ to figure where the hell I come from. A real character.
Where do you think the guy come from? I says to him.
So he stares at me. And, get this Mack, he says:
From the past.
Yeah! How do you like that? Wait though. That ain’t the best part.
I give him the once over, see? Then, just before we reach the corner I says—From the past haah? and give ’im an elbow in the rib.
And he says—get this—Maybe from the future!
Yeah! What do ya do with guys like that? Ya put ’em away. That’s right.
So me and Dot went to the Paramount. Wait, I’ll tell ya.
Boy, hey, that Frankie Laine!
BUTTON, BUTTON
The package was lying by the front door—a cube-shaped carton sealed with tape, the name and address printed by hand: MR. AND MRS. ARTHUR LEWIS, 217 E. 37TH STREET, NEW YORK, NEW YORK 10016. Norma picked it up, unlocked the door, and went into the apartment. It was just getting dark.
After she put the lamb chops in the broiler, she made herself a drink and sat down to open the package.
Inside the carton was a push-button unit fastened to a small wooden box. A glass dome covered the button. Norma tried to lift it off, but it was locked in place. She turned the unit over and saw a folded piece of paper Scotch-taped to the bottom of the box. She pulled it off: “Mr. Steward will call on you at eight p.m.”
Norma put the button unit beside her on the couch. She sipped the drink and reread the typed note, smiling.
A few moments later, she went back into the kitchen to make the salad. The doorbell rang at eight o’clock. “I’ll get it,” Norma called from the kitchen. Arthur was in the living room, reading.
There was a small man in the hallway. He removed his hat as Norma opened the door. “Mrs. Lewis?” he inquired politely.
“Yes?”
“I’m Mr. Steward.”
“Oh, yes.” Norma repressed a smile. She was sure now it was a sales pitch.
“May I come in?” asked Mr. Steward.
“I’m rather busy,” Norma said. “I’ll get you your watchamacallit, though.” She started to turn.
“Don’t you want to know what it is?”
Norma turned back. Mr. Steward’s tone had been offensive. “No, I don’t think so,” she said.
“It could prove very valuable,” he told her.
“Monetarily?” she challenged.
Mr. Steward nodded. “Monetarily,” he said.
Norma frowned. She didn’t like his attitude. “What are you trying to sell?” she asked.
“I’m not selling anything,” he answered.
Arthur came out of the living room. “Something wrong?”
Mr. Steward introduced himself.
“Oh, the . . .” Arthur pointed toward the living room and smiled. “What is that gadget, anyway?”
“It won’t take long to explain,” replied Mr. Steward. “May I come in?”
“If you’re selling something . . .” Arthur said.
Mr. Steward shook his head. “I’m not.”
Arthur looked at Norma. “Up to you,” she said.
He hesitated. “Well, why not?” he said.
They went into the living room and Mr. Steward sat in Norma’s chair. He reached into an inside coat pocket and withdrew a small sealed envelope. “Inside here is a key to the bell-unit dome,” he said. He set the envelope on the chairside table. “The bell is connected to our office.”
“What’s it for?” asked Arthur.
“If you push the button,” Mr. Steward told him, “somewhere in the world, someone you don’t know will die. In return for which you will receive a payment of fifty thousand dollars.”
Norma stared at the small man. He was smiling.
“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked him.
Mr. Steward looked surprised. “But I’ve just explained,” he said.
“Is this a practical joke?” asked Arthur.
“Not at all. The offer is completely genuine.”
“You aren’t making sense,” Arthur said. “You expect us to believe . . .”
“Whom do you represent?” demanded Norma.
Mr. Steward looked embarrassed. “I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to tell you that,” he said. “However, I assure you the organization is of international scope.”
“I think you’d better leave,” Arthur said, standing.
Mr. Steward rose. “Of course.”
“And take your button unit with you.”
“Are you sure you wouldn’t care to think about it for a day or so?”
Arthur picked up the button unit and the envelope and thrust them into Mr. Steward’s hands. He walked into the hall and pulled open the door.
“I’ll leave my card,” said Mr. Steward. He placed it on the table by the door.
When he was gone, Arthur tore it in half and tossed the pieces onto the table. “God!” he said.
Norma was still sitting on the sofa. “What do you think it was?” she asked.
“I don’t care to know,” he answered.
She tried to smile but couldn’t. “Aren’t you curious at all?”
“No,” he shook his head.
After Arthur returned to his book, Norma went back to the kitchen and finished washing the dishes.
—
“Why won’t you talk about it?” Norma asked later.
Arthur’s eyes shifted as he brushed his teeth. He looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror.
“Doesn’t it intrigue you?”
“It offends me,” Arthur said.
“I know, but—” Norma rolled another curler in her hair “—doesn’t it intrigue you, too?”
“You think it’s a practical joke?” she asked as they went into the bedroom.
“If it is, it’s a sick one.”
Norma sat on the bed and took off her slippers.
“Maybe it’s some kind of psychological research.”
Arthur shrugged. “Could be.”
“Maybe some eccentric millionaire is doing it.”
“Maybe.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Arthur shook his head.
“Why?”
“Because it’s immoral,” he told her.
Norma slid beneath the covers. “Well, I think it’s intriguing,” she said.
Arthur turned off the lamp and leaned over to kiss her. “Good night,” he said.
“Good night.” She patted his back.
Norma closed her eyes. Fifty thousand dollars, she thought.
—
In the morning, as she left the apartment, Norma saw the card halves on the table. Impulsively, she dropped them into her purse. She locked the front door and joined Arthur in the elevator.
While she was on her coffee break, she took the card halves from her purse and held the torn edges together. Only Mr. Steward’s name and telephone number were printed on the card.
After lunch, she took the card halves from her purse again and Scotch-taped the edges together. Why am I doing this? she thought.
Just before fi
ve, she dialed the number.
“Good afternoon,” said Mr. Steward’s voice.
Norma almost hung up but restrained herself. She cleared her throat. “This is Mrs. Lewis,” she said.
“Yes, Mrs. Lewis.” Mr. Steward sounded pleased.
“I’m curious.”
“That’s natural,” Mr. Steward said.
“Not that I believe a word of what you told us.”
“Oh, it’s quite authentic,” Mr. Steward answered.
“Well, whatever . . .” Norma swallowed. “When you said someone in the world would die, what did you mean?”
“Exactly that,” he answered. “It could be anyone. All we guarantee is that you don’t know them. And, of course, that you wouldn’t have to watch them die.”
“For fifty thousand dollars,” Norma said.
“That is correct.”
She made a scoffing sound. “That’s crazy.”
“Nonetheless, that is the proposition,” Mr. Steward said. “Would you like me to return the button unit?”
Norma stiffened. “Certainly not.” She hung up angrily.
—
The package was lying by the front door; Norma saw it as she left the elevator. Well, of all the nerve, she thought. She glared at the carton as she unlocked the door. I just won’t take it in, she thought. She went inside and started dinner.
Later, she carried her drink to the front hall. Opening the door, she picked up the package and carried it into the kitchen, leaving it on the table.
She sat in the living room, sipping her drink and looking out the window. After awhile, she went back into the kitchen to turn the cutlets in the broiler. She put the package in a bottom cabinet. She’d throw it out in the morning.
—
“Maybe some eccentric millionaire is playing games with people,” she said.
Arthur looked up from his dinner. “I don’t understand you.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let it go,” he told her.
Norma ate in silence. Suddenly, she put her fork down. “Suppose it’s a genuine offer,” she said.
Arthur stared at her.
“Suppose it’s a genuine offer.”
“All right, suppose it is!” He looked incredulous. “What would you like to do? Get the button back and push it? Murder someone?”