The Golden Gizmo by Jim Thompson Read Free Book Online Page A

in the same sense, say, that death solves all problems is true.
    Without co-signers, collateral or even a job, in the usual meaning of the word, you could borrow from one to a maximum of ten dollars from Shake; and you could-and usually did-take the rest of your lifetime to pay it back. Shake liked to get along with people; he liked to live and let live. He said so himself.
    If you objected to these lenient arrangements, things were still made easy for you; there was a swift and simple alternative. Shake's pachucos , his young Mexican toughs, would pay you a visit. They would drop around to your one-chair barber shop or your shoeshine stand or the corner where you hustled papers and kick the holy hell out of you. They'd lay you so flat you could crawl under doors. Shake pointed to the expense of these kickings as justification for his whimsical methods of compounding interest.
    When Toddy pushed Donald into the office ahead of him, Shake and two of the pachucos were in the back room. They'd been splitting a half-gallon of four-bit wine while they stamped phony serial numbers into an equally phony batch of Irish sweepstakes tickets. Their minds were a little muggy and they were jammed around a littered table. Before they could snap together, Toddy had dutch-walked Donald inside and kicked the door shut.
    They got to their feet then; they advanced a step in a three-cornered half-circle. But Toddy jerked his head toward the windows and the movement stopped abruptly.
    "Come on," he invited grimly. "I won't do a damn thing but toss this bastard out on his skull."
    "N-now, T-Toddy…" Nervous phlegm burbled in Shake's throat. "Now, Toddy," he whined, "is this a way to act? Bustin' into a office after business hours?"
    He was a swollen dropsical giant with an ague, probably syphilis-inspired, which kept his puffed flesh in faint, almost constant oscillation.
    "I've got something to say," said Toddy. "If you don't want those punks to hear it, you'd better send 'em out."
    "Well, now-" Shake made a flabbily deprecating motion. "I don't know about that. We're settin' here having a nice little party, Ramon an' Juan an' me. Just settin' here minding our own business, and then you come along an'-"
    "All right," said Toddy. "I gave you a chance. I went up to my room tonight and-"
    " Wait! Send 'em out, Shake!"
    "Oh?" Shake looked doubtfully at the little shiv artist. "You been up to somethin' bad, Donald?"
    "Send 'em out!" Donald gasped, teetering painfully in Toddy's grip. "Do like he says, Shake!"
    "Well… how far you want 'em to go, Toddy?"
    "How good can they hear?"
    Shake hesitated, then waved his hand. "All the way down, boys Clear down in front"
    The pachucos left, duck tail haircuts gleaming, heel plates clicking on the ancient marble. When Toddy heard the Outer door close, he released Donald with a shove.
    "All right, strip."
    "Goddammit, I done tole you I-"
    "Take 'em off, Donald." Shake's pig eyes gleamed with interest as he sank into a chair.
    Sullenly, Donald shed his clothes until he stood naked before them.
    "You're awful dirty, Donald." Shake clucked his tongue reproachfully. "He have a chance to ditch it anywheres, Toddy? Could he of tossed it away?"
    "No," Toddy admitted, "he couldn't."
    "How big was it?… Donald, maybe you better bend over an'-"
    Toddy chuckled unwillingly and Donald spewed out outraged obscenities.
    "All right, then!" Shake said. "You just get them clothes back on before you catch cold. And, Toddy, maybe you better…"
    Toddy nodded slowly. "Here it is," he began. "Donald hit me up for protection again tonight, and I gave him a brush-off. One that he'd remember. Then-"
    "But that was just business, Toddy! Just because a man's ambitious and wants to expand, it don't prove-"
    "It proves you're stupid enough to try anything. Jesus-" Toddy shook his head in wondering disgust. "Trying to shake down a gold- buyer! A bunch of cheap hoods like you. Why the hell don't you work out on Mickey Cohen?"
    Shake