The Last Collection (30 page)

“I saw the whole picture. It was so clear that there was no doubt in my mind. It's dog eat dog in this world. Nobody gives a shit for anyone, anyways. Everyone's out for their own ass. I thought about Weisskopf and what you had said about him in that last session. You said that maybe he had intended to use me from the first minute he'd met me. I realized you were probably right; and even if he wasn't using me for his own purposes he still wasn't doing me any favours. When he let me off paying that five thousand dollars, he didn't let me off for my sake. Maybe he did it to set me up for the telephone gaff; but if that wasn't the reason, then he did it for some other ulterior motive. Maybe he felt guilty about things he'd done in the past and wanted to ease his conscience through me. I saw that very clearly. It was obvious that I hadn't wanted to see that before. I wanted to imagine that the world was like a Walt Disney film. But after that switch moved and clicked, I saw it all. It all came to me in a flash. I saw the whole picture. I saw it clearer than I had ever seen anything in my life.

“I knew what it was all about. I knew what I was, what I should do, what I wanted to do. I owed nothing to no one. I had, you might say, a secret answer. I knew I had to have everything. To take everything I could get. It was all there waiting to be taken. I was going to get it. Everything! Why not? What else was there? What was there to stop me? Nothing. I could do anything and not worry about guilt. It was just a matter of being careful. Careful about the laws made by weak, frightened people. It was easy to be careful and I knew I wasn't afraid. What was there to be afraid of? People were afraid because of guilt. I wasn't afraid. I could do anything and not worry about it.

“I saw everything. I saw exactly who I was, what I was, the way things really were. I knew a person could rule the world with the understanding that I had. I knew what I was going to do.” The words had come out in a gush and Kerner was now breathing hard.

Dr. Lehman looked down at him, showing no expression.

“So what do you think?” Kerner asked.

“I don't think anything, Mr. Kerner.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Aren't you surprised at my new outlook?”

“Thoughts are one thing, Kerner, deeds are another,” Dr. Lehman replied.

Artie Kerner chuckled slyly. “Oh, I know that, but I'm not finished telling you my story. Let me fill you in on what happened next and how I translated my ideas into actions.”

“Go ahead,” Dr. Lehman said, gesturing with his hand.

“All these thoughts were flashing through my mind. I don't know exactly how long I sat there on my bed thinking. It was probably about an hour or two but it seemed much longer. In a way it was like both an eternity and an instant. Then I realized there was no way I was going to live on a kibbutz. There was no way I was going to give up anything. I was going to keep everything and get more. I was going to get whatever I wanted. The first thing I had to do was get my hands on some money. As I thought this, I realized I was staring at the red cylinder lying at the foot of the bed. Then it hit me that I had the solution to all my problems. It was right there in front of me. It was as though I had somehow known it all along.

“It was so simple, it was unbelievable! It all fell into place in an instant. I would replace the plan of Weisskopf and Mandelberg's land with the plan of my land. As I mentioned, my property was in the same general area as theirs. In fact, it was about eight miles away.

“At seven-thirty in the morning I called up a draftsman I knew. I offered him a hundred dollars for an hour of his time. He was over at my place by eight-fifteen. By nine-thirty he had redrafted a large official-looking plan from my own small plan of my piece of land. I replaced Weisskopf's plan in the cylinder with my own.

“Now my piece of land was registered in the name of the farmer who still lived on the property. But, the same as Weisskopf and Mandelberg, I had a deed signed by the farmer testifying to the fact that he had sold the land to me. I took the cylinder to Lemay. It was in his hands by noon that day. Then I drove over to see the farmer on my land. I told him that he might soon be approached by someone who wanted to buy the property. I told him to ask eighty-five thousand for it and to carry on as though he owned it. I promised him five thousand if everything went well.

“Then I waited. Everything came off perfectly. Hankleman came to see Lemay. Lemay sold him my plan without ever knowing it. Hankleman's notary approached my farmer. My farmer told them what he wanted. They checked out the deed. They bought the land. I got the eighty-five thousand. I gave the farmer a hundred bucks.”

“A hundred bucks?!”

“That's right,” Kerner said, laughing. “You think I'd give him the five thousand just because I promised it to him?”

Dr. Lehman made no reply.

“I'd have to be crazy to do that. What's the point? What could he do—sue me? Oh, he raised shit when I gave him the hundred. He wasn't happy. But what could he do?” Kerner laughed. “I came away with a clear profit of fifty-eight thousand dollars. Then I had to do something about my business. I couldn't declare bankruptcy because when they investigated the company, they would find out I had been pulling funds out illegally; but there was no way I was going to pay off the debts I owed to those leeches. So I began to think. And I'll tell you, it's amazing how clearly a person can think when his mind isn't obstructed by guilt. You see a million ideas that you could never think of. It didn't take me long to come up with a good one.

“I found a guy who owned a big warehouse. I asked him how much he wanted to rent it for six months. He told me four hundred a month. I told him to make up a lease, setting the rent at a thousand dollars a month. I told him that the rent would be paid and that, out of the thousand, he could keep five hundred and he would give me back five hundred. I had him sign a document to that effect.

“Then I went out and invested a few hundred dollars in several thousand old burlap sacks. I had these filled with a combination of sawdust and shit from various renderers. I had these sacks stored in the warehouse. Then I contacted my creditors and told them I was broke but indicated I had various goods stored in this warehouse. There was a mad rush to the courts by all my creditors for first crack at my goods. While the courts were involved with deciding who gets what and when, they of course declared the goods in the warehouse frozen. No one could even step inside the warehouse. They were all convinced that there was a fortune of chemicals in those sacks.

“Of course, to have any legal claim to the goods, they had to keep paying the rent on the warehouse. When they checked the lease, they saw it was a thousand dollars a month. So they paid it. They've already paid it for two months now, which means I've gotten back a thousand dollars from the landlord so far. My creditors are so greedy to protect their own interests that they've each hired their own guard to make sure no one else takes off with those sacks! By the time the courts decide what to do with those sacks, it could be another six or eight months at five hundred a month for me and in another few months my creditors will have forgotten all about me. By the time they get to see what's inside those sacks, they won't even remember who they belonged to.” Kerner began to laugh.

“I'm glad to see you can still laugh after two months in the hospital.”

“Why not? It's funny. It's hilarious. I ripped them all off . . . and you know something? . . . I enjoyed it. I really enjoyed it. I made a bundle on my piece of land. I fucked my creditors good and I didn't pay back Hankleman a cent. . . . Oh yes, and one other thing . . . I also fucked Weisskopf's daughter and . . . Mrs. Griff.”

“It seems like you fucked everyone, Mr. Kerner,” Dr. Lehman said.

“Yes, that's what I did,” Kerner replied, grinning.

“And so what did it get you?”

“It got me a lot of money and a lot of satisfaction.”

“You call being in the hospital for two months, satisfaction?”

“It'll be four months or five by the time I get out, but so what? When I get out, I'm really going to enjoy myself. Besides, it's a good rest. They take very good care of me here. I have everything. I even get blow jobs from one of the nurses whenever I want. They do everything for me.”

“It's sort of like being a little baby again, eh, Kerner?”

“You can call it whatever you want but, believe me, it's not all that bad.”

Dr. Lehman gave a whimsical shrug. “And how about your buying habit?”

“I've got it under control. It'll never rule me again but eventually I'll be able to buy anything I want. I figure in a year or two from now I'll be a millionaire. There's nothing that can stop me.”

“No, I don't imagine there is,” Dr. Lehman said softly. “Unless, of course, you run into someone like Hankleman again.”

“Oh, don't worry, I'll be a lot more careful in the future. And, besides, it wasn't him who did this to me.”

“No? Then who was it?”

“It was Weisskopf and his partner.”

“How do you know that?”

“Before the two goons started working me over, they said, ‘Here's a message from the Hawk and Big Moishie.' I guess when they saw that nothing was happening with their land, they must have put two and two together and figured out that I had screwed them somehow.”

Dr. Lehman nodded slowly. “One last question before I leave, Mr. Kerner.”

“Sure.”

“Why did you call me down here?”

“Why? Because I wanted to show you how full of shit you are.”

“Oh, really? Why? Because I had a bit of faith in you? Because I really believed there was a chance for you to be a mensch? I actually did, Kerner. I actually had faith in you.”

Kerner began to laugh. “That's what I mean. I wanted to prove to you how full of shit you are. How futile your whole shrink bit is.”

“By telling me what you did, by showing me what you are now, you don't prove anything to me at all. I have no illusions about my abilities as a psychiatrist. I do the best I know how. I can live with myself.”

Kerner was still laughing. He was staring up at the ceiling and cackling.

“The only thing you've proved is that I was right in calling you what I did that first day when you ran out of my office. You're a shlepper, Kerner.”

Dr. Lehman turned and walked away. He headed out the door and walked along the corridor. He could hear Kerner laughing in the room. The sound echoed along the hallway like a cry.

Chapter Forty-Nine

S
olly the Hawk was seated at his desk. Big Moishie was standing next to him. The Hawk picked up the telephone receiver and began to dial.

“I'd like to speak to Mr. Marvin Saltpeter,” the Hawk said.

Big Moishie dragged on his cigar.

“Hello, Marvin . . . Yeah, it's Sol Weiss speaking . . . Yeah . . . Not too bad . . . yerself? . . . Good. Good. . . . Lissen, Marvin, I finally got it set up wid dis guy from de Roads Department. . . . Yeah, yeah, I know. It took a long time. But it's all set. . . . Oh, you're ready to shmear. . . . Good, good. Okay, lissen, here's what you gotta do . . .”

Big Moishie puffed on his cigar while the Hawk kept talking.

Chapter Fifty

M
orrie Hankleman was driving slowly along Westmount Boulevard. He felt good. Things were rolling along quite well. He had been wise to back the beaver gland formula idea. It was proving to be a real winner with only minimal advertising. Yes, things were looking up. The terms of his divorce would be finalized any day now after more than three months of hassling with his wife and her lawyer. She would keep the house and everything in it, but he had gotten away with a lot more than he'd expected as far as alimony was concerned. His lawyer had done all right for him. She would keep the kid, which was fine with him.

Yes, things hadn't turned out too badly. It was as though he was starting from scratch again but without having to worry about making it because he already had it made.

Hankleman smiled. He felt good. Things were all right. . . . If only something would break with regard to the land he had snatched from under Weisskopf and Mandelberg's noses. It was almost three months since he had faked them out but he had yet to hear anything official about the new autoroute extension, let alone receive an offer for his land from the Quebec Roads Department. Well, he could wait. He'd probably hear from them soon.

He chuckled softly to himself. Even now he still derived immense satisfaction when he thought about how he had bugged their office and ripped them off. The great thing about it was that they had obviously thought Kerner had fed them a phony story. Why else would they have had him beaten up. They had really done a job on him, but if anyone deserved it, it was Artie Kerner. Kerner still hadn't repaid him the money. But he would get it back, all of it, with interest. The day Artie Kerner stepped out of the hospital, he, Morrie Hankleman, would be waiting for him; and if Kerner didn't pay up, he would end up in the hospital again. It was as simple as that.

Morrie Hankleman slowed the car, turned his head and stared out the back window. The girl was still running about twenty feet or so behind the Mercedes. Hankleman checked his mileage. He had already kept her following for two-tenths of a mile. He shook his head. Incredible how people fool themselves, he thought. Maybe he could break his record with this girl. She wasn't even breathing hard. Hankleman waved her on.

Read on for more from Seymour Blicker.

Shmucks

H
e wasn't a stubborn type of person. He knew how to give in when he was wrong and usually knew when he was; but if he was right no one was going to move him.

It was a little past 11:00 on a Wednesday night and Levin was in a good mood. Earlier in the evening he had gone downtown to his favourite bar and scored. He had really scored. He had noticed the girl eying him from the dance floor and throwing nookies his way as she danced. It hadn't taken him long to lug her. Now, two hours later, she was in his car heading for his apartment in the west end of the city.