The Stiff Upper Lip by Peter Israel

him from getting killed,” I said.
    â€œBy whom?”
    â€œPeople in California. Your partners.”
    â€œWhy did they want to kill him?”
    â€œYou know why.”
    â€œI want to hear it from you.”
    I remember it hurting me to talk, and figuring that he knew it hurt. But whenever I muffed my lines, the cigar waved and there was a slap on the head. A double bind, I think they call it in psychology. In any case, the dialogue, minus slaps, went something like this:
    C AGE : He was once involved in an ugly business. Back in California.
    D ELATOUR : What kind of ugly business?
    C AGE : Fixing games. He was a college basketball star.
    He and some other players were accused of fixing games.
    D ELATOUR : Do you mean they lost intentionally?
    C AGE : No. It worked on points.
    D ELATOUR : Points?
    C AGE : You bet a team to win by ten points. It wins by eight. You lose.
    D ELATOUR : An interesting idea. A team doesn’t have to lose, it just wins by less?
    C AGE : That’s right.
    D ELATOUR : And that’s illegal in America?
    C AGE : If you do it on purpose.
    D ELATOUR : And Adlay did this?
    C AGE : They were accused of it. There was what’s called a grand-jury investigation. It made a lot of headlines. The other players all testified that they were innocent. It got them banned from basketball, but it kept them out of jail.
    D ELATOUR : What about Adlay?
    C AGE : He was the one everybody was waiting for.
    The big fish. He was supposed to be the star witness.
    D ELATOUR : What happened? Did he confess?
    C AGE : No. He didn’t show. He disappeared.
    D ELATOUR : Disappeared? Why was that such a bad thing?
    C AGE : It meant he was guilty by implication. Also it gave the grand jury, and the public, the impression that certain people had helped him disappear. Such as your partners. This was very embarrassing to them.
    D ELATOUR : I can see that. But what happened to him then?
    C AGE : He stayed disappeared. He left the country, changed his name, stayed away from basketball. Until now.
    D ELATOUR : Until now?
    C AGE : Until now.
    D ELATOUR : How long ago was it that this happened?
    C AGE : Four, five years.
    D ELATOUR : But they—these people in California—still want him disposed of? After all this time?
    C AGE : You said it yourself: ‘Revenge lasts a long time.’
    This seemingly innocent quotation brought the cigar into motion again. It was Jeannot, the little wimp, who started for me. He was a tireless bastard. I can see him still, the flat head, the quick eyes in a small, impassive face, as he moved in to do what he did best. It freaked me out. I tried to ward him off and at the same time I hollered. And not only hollered but blubbered, stammered, yammered, and all the other things grown men aren’t supposed to do in public. And I shouted at Dédé Delatour:
    â€œIf you don’t believe me, call them! For Christ’s sake, call them and ask! All you’ve got to do is pick up the fucking phone!”
    Delatour smiled at me—not the crooked one but the dinner-table special.
    He called off the wimp.
    â€œI already have, Monsieur,” he said. “Last night, I didn’t want to—one never likes to disturb one’s associates with trivial questions—but you obliged me to. With your fairy tales.”
    â€œAll right!” I blurted out “And what did they say?”
    He shook his head from side to side, then leaned forward and stubbed out his cigar.
    â€œIt’s all the same to them,” he said, straightening up. “Adlay—or whatever his name is—is old business.” The smile came back, bigger and flashing of teeth. “They don’t give a royal fuck what happens to him. As long as it happens in Europe.”
    The news hit me like a ton. It was like somebody had just told me: Hey fella, the world’s not round, it’s a cube and right over here’s where you fall off. I’d been flim-flammed all right;