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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:09:22 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 136232
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Big Al 19
[time] => 2007-07-26 07:30:18
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => When I entered my office the next morning there was a plain white envelope on the floor put there through the mail slot in the door. It wasn’t addressed. I carried it to my desk and opened it. A single piece of paper fell out showing a claim ticket for a piece of merchandise being stored at the Madison Street Terminal Warehouse on First and Madison. I knew the place. It was five stories of old brick and dark windows. I put the claim ticket inside my wallet, A messenger boy arrived bringing a sealed manilla envelope from the Fidelity Trust and Title Company. I opened it and read their report carefully. The bottom line was that title for the Lakefront Drive property was held by a Mister Jesse Abercombie who in turn was now leasing the property to Roger Forsyth. It seemed Forsyth was putting Gloria DuPrey in that house for whatever reason he had. That too wasn’t surprising considering all the duplicity I’d already gone through with Miss DuPrey. I took a shot of booze from the desk bottle, lit a cigarette and gave it more thought. The old Regulator clock on the wall ticked off the minutes and I didn’t get anywhere with my thinking. I needed to see what was at the warehouse. I put my hat back on. The Madison Street Terminal Warehouse was located on the same street as the Hixson Hotel where Danny Boy had been murdered. The warehouse was about a mile away from the hotel but still in a rundown area of the city. Wind was blowing loose papers along the sidewalks as it was in front of the Buick. as drove the street. A gray sky promise to bring rain and I believed it. From the car’s radio a voice said the stock market was busting through the ionosphere and that life was just a bowl of cherries for smart investors. Parking close to the warehouse, I went in the office door. An old man with a green shade visor and garters around his upper arms was bent over a ledger book following the postings with a tobacco stained forefinger. He was sitting at a weather-beaten desk, a drop light over his head. I broke into his concentration. “ How do I go about finding a piece of merchandise. I have a claim ticket.” He looked up at me not fully understanding what I wanted. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. I waited. He stuffed the handkerchief away and continued to squint up at me. ”What did you say?” “ I want to look at a piece of merchandise. I have a claim ticket.” He adjusted the green shade visor over his eyes and through very bad teeth said, “ You have to see Andy. He does all that kind of stuff.” “ Okay, let me see Andy.” “ I need to buzz for him. He’s somewhere around here, but I don’t remember where.” “ Okay buzz for him.” “ Let me see your claim ticket.” I took it out of my wallet and handed it to him. He put the claim ticket closer under the drop light. He sucked air through his bad teeth and gave me his opinion. “Yup, you’ve got a claim ticket alright.” He pushed a red button on the wall behind him. A strong uggah, uggah sounded throughout the building. In time a heavy set man appeared in bib coveralls, an apple wool cap and work boots. He came out of the freight elevator to see why he’d been called. He saw me and walked over. The old geezer let him know what I wanted. . He took my claim ticket, inspected it and walked away expecting me to follow. We went up in the freight elevator shaking and chucking all the way to the fifth floor where he pulled back black vein scissor gates to let us out. With a flashlight he found a hand switch turning on a ceiling of drop lights. The place was partitioned into files and ranks like a chess board, files being alphabetized and ranks numbered. Files against three walls were risers of three tiers, each tier supported by a wooden pallet. The fourth wall was for painted-over windows controlled by hand cranks attached to chains and gears. I don’t think the windows had been opened in a dozen years. My claim ticket read C-4 and he led me to a square where there was a large wooden boxwith dimension I would guess of six feet in length by four feet in width and three feet in height. I asked for a crowbar and hammer. He left returning in a few minutes with the tools. I didn’t want him around when I opened the box and said, “ Why don’t you take a break and come back when I push the button by the elevator.” He thought that over, removing the apple wool cap and wiping the sweatband with a rag from his back pocket, looking both ways not knowing what he should do. “ I’m not suppose to leave you alone. You won’t tell Bode, will you?” “ Not me.” I took a buck from my pocket and gave it to him. He went to the freight elevator and clanked himself and the cage down. I had the box opened in ten minutes revealing an expensive executive desk like only CEO’s had.. I opened the top desk drawer finding dead president notes staring up at me signed by the Secretary of the Treasury, Andrew W. Mellon. The notes ranged from Clevelands to Madisons. I counted their total value at one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I closed the drawer quickly reboarding the desk. This was a bribe by DuPrey and friends to sell them booze from Canada. My life was worth more than one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.. I was scared of Casino for he’d find out sending me to a quick hell. I pushed on the button and Andy took me to street level where my feet took me out the front door as quickly as possible. I needed a shot of booze badly. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 168 [topic] => 21 [informant] => ramfire [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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