At End of Day Read Free Page B

he said. Therefore he had not understood what Cistaro had said—but instead of saying that, he scowled. He held up his right forefinger irritatedly and shook his head. Then, looking down, he nodded. “Yes, I know it is, Dee,” he said into the phone, “and I know it’s annoying. And I know just what to do. But it’s like everything else—won’t take any time at all to do it, we go back out there together and I show you how. But I can’t go out there today, and if I try to describe it to you it’ll take me a while. So I’ll have to call you back—someone’s just come in.” He stared up at Cistaro. “No, very
un
expectedly.” He frowned. “Yes, then, all right. See you.”
    He replaced the phone in the black desk set with his left hand and gazed at Cistaro with exasperation. Then he said, “Who are you?” with the chill soft muted politeness that paralyzed museum-quality finish carpenters; quailed temperamentalartisans who worked with tile, intaglio and metals and haughtily refused to learn English; and partially compensated clients who had lots of money, modestly realized they did not have extreme good taste but could afford to buy, regally, as much as they felt they needed (more than their friends had), and rather expected condescending insolence from its more reputable purveyors.
    Cistaro smiled tightly, showing six teeth in the front row of his upper jaw. “I’m the guy you owe money to,” he said. “You’re late—paying me.”
    “I owe lots of people money,” Crawford said calmly. “I’ve never laid eyes on most of them in my life. Nor have I wished to—there’s no need. I’m sure I’m late on many of my accounts. It happens all the time. The kind of work I do? People who I do it
for
, fall behind on
me
. Happens to
them
all the time? Happens to
me
all the time. When
they
get caught up,
I
get caught up.”
    Cistaro said nothing.
    “The people I owe money to—they always get it. So they know they can trust me.
You?
I’ve never seen before, in my entire life. So you have no experience to go on, and simply don’t realize that. Are you pressed for cash? How much do you need? I’ll see if I can help you.”
    Cistaro showed more teeth. “
I’m
not pressed for cash,” he said pleasantly. “People like you, who owe
me
—
they
are pressed for cash. Why they come to me, the first place—get the cash they got to have, they haven’t
got
no cash. That’s what you did, you know it or not. Came to me referred, okay? Any other hurtin’ puppy—guy you asked where you could find ninety large, right off? He said come to me.”
    “Oh, but I’ve never seen you before,” Crawford said mildly.
    “You seen people, work for me,” Cistaro said. “You seen them when you saw my money. Didn’t see my
face
then, but you seen Ben Franklin’s pictures and you seen the presidents. That means you seen me.
    “Six weeks ago, you fall in our laps, said you needed cash for two. Forty-five a week then, just like it is today. Which we told you, and you said you understood.
An
’—that even though it was a lot more’n you’re used to paying, it was acceptable. That was what you said to Tony. Next time Tony saw me, he told me you said that.
    “Kid never heard that one before. ‘ “Acceptable,” he said.’ Could not get over it. Well, what the hell, he’s just a kid. Hasn’t been around that much—you’re something new for him.”
    Crawford’s expression gradually changed. “Would this Tony be Anthony, the barber? The young fellow in the shop down on Broad Street? The guy that Mario took me to see, before the three-day weekend? He said he had another appointment coming in at three-fifteen, so he had to hurry.”
    “Look, he cuts hair—financial district,” Cistaro said. “Why we took him on. Where he is, an’ what he does, and who he does it to. Good location for him? Good one for us, too. Every day he’s seeing people who at one time or another need some money in a hurry; so happens