Scene: a wharf on the edge of town.
Enter the Man From Chicago, Zack, and Phil. Zack is carrying a briefcase.
MFC: Ah, the perfect spot. [turning to Phil]. What the hell’s this rig you’ve brought?
Phil: Sir?
MFC: We’re not fishing for marlin, boy. What in the name of Christ Jesus do you need all this gear for? You tryin’ to jew me for more money?
Phil: Jew, sir? I am a good son of our holy mother church. Sturgeon are big fish, sir. Not as big as marlin, for sure, but they can grow to four-five feet and weigh 60 pounds easy. You gotta have this big net to get them out of the water, you see? And then you have to keep them calm with a towel or they’re thrash something fierce before you club them.
MFC: Is that right? A towel to keep ’em calm before you club her? Sounds like a whore I knew in St. Paul. What do you use for bait?
Phil: regular bait like nightcrawlers is okay, but if we can catch a small fish first, or even better a crawdad, that’ll probably be more lucky for the mister.
MFC: Tell you what, boy, you catch me some small fry first to use as bait, and there’ll be a nice tip for you if I catch me a sturgeon. Oh, no, damn [patting his pockets] I left my lucky fishing charm back at that hotel or whatever you call it. [snaps his fingers] Damn it to hell, that’s right — that lucky rabbits foot, it’ll be right next to my wallet on the night stand next to the bed. Tell you what, Phil, you go on back to the hotel — use the car [nods to Zack, who sets down his briefcase, and then promptly hands over the keys to Phil] and come back as quick as you can. Bring my wallet to, while you’re at it.
Phil: [puzzled] Okay, mister. I’ll be back. What color you say this rabbits-foot is?
MFC: White. [Phil exits upstage right].
Zack: So what do you have planned, boss?
MFC: That sand-X outta hearing range?
Zack: If I understood the barman correctly, sir, I believe that Phil may be some sort of Asian.
MFC: That right? Sure looks like an [X] to me. Whatever, they got all kinds here in California. In any case, he’ll be scrambling for awhile for that rabbits-foot. [turns around, facing the “water,” stage left. For the rest of this scene, MFC should, except for momentary exceptions, keep his back to Zack] So, Zack, whaddaya think of this place?
Zack: For fishing, you mean?
MFC: [glancing back briefly] No, you hook-nosed ignoramus. For moving booze. Jeez, maybe you should’nt play so much cribbage with Dusty. Her ditziness is starting to rub off.
Zack [: It’s out of the way, for sure. But near enough to Sacramento to move product. Anyone from the San Francisco outfit made a claim yet on the market?
MFC: Not so’s the boss has let me know. How many bars do we think we could supply off of this wharf?
Zack: Depends how many guys you think you could get together to run a boat, and how many boats — if you’re thinking big — we could buy. But based on the business we’ve been doing out of Milwaukee, we can usually run two, maybe three boats a week assuming good weather. But that’s with access to Canada. Where’s the whiskey gonna come from here?
MFC: Never you mind, my boy, never you mind. [scratching a match, lights himself a cigarette]
Zack: But boss, if you’re gonna have me running the operation while you’re down in LA I gotta know about the suppliers.
MFC: LA? Who said shit about LA?
Zack: Dusty, boss. You been talking up getting her into pictures. She’s real excited, you know?
MFC: That bitch can’t act her way out of a fuckin’ paper bag. Pictures my ass.
Zack: She’s got her heart set on it, boss. It’s all she ever talks about.
MFC: What, she’s pouring her heart out to you about that crap?
Zack: You told her you were takin’ her to LA to talk to your associates. What’s a girl to think?
MFC: What’s a girl to think? [glancing back] Maybe I should ask you, candy-ass?
Zack: I’m just sayin’ boss. Miss Dusty thinks you’re taking her to LA just as soon as you close this deal in Sacramento [Zack, kneeling down, quietly opens the briefcase, and taking out a revolver, quietly begins loading it with bullets].
MFC: Good. That’s what I want her to think. So you think we can move three boats a week here. Why not three boats a night?
Zack: It’d attract attention, boss. This a pretty small town. Looks like they don’t do much boat-loading except maybe in harvest-time I’m guessing. So three boats a night would make it feel like a real city, and for sure someone would come sniffing around. I don’t know what the law is like around here. I couldn’t get a feel for that Sheriff.
MFC: In this here podunk town? For one, he’s a deputy sheriff. For two, if he’s assigned way the hell out here at his age he must be a drunk or votes the wrong way. For three, any man’s got his price. Whyn’t you talk to Dusty and see if she can get into his pants?
[unseen to MFC and Zack, Ella starts to enter upstage right. She should remain hidden, but clearly listening in on the conversation].
Zack: I, uh… Dusty thinks she’s done with that kinda work, boss.
MFC: What the fuck does she think I keep her around for? Girl’s gotta earn her way, even if she’s sleepin’ with me. Anyway, I gotta park her somewhere while I go down to LA and figure out some things with Tony.
Zack: She’s not gonna like it if you don’t take her with you. You sure it’s safe to take to Tony right now?
MFC: What, you got connections now in the business out here?
Zack: Just what I read in the papers, boss. I’m just tryin’ to figure out what you want me to do. And I guess I’m a little confused as to why you’re going down to LA. Ain’t that kinda the wrong direction to be moving product on boats?
MFC: Stop tryin’ to think your way into my job, Jew boy. Ain’t none of your people out here in the booze business. All I need you here for is a little muscle. I don’t need an associate, and I for sure don’t need your advice. California is wide-open country for liquor. The way I hear it, the chinks were so busy shootin’ each other up they lost control of what they had in San Francisco, and Tony’s puttin’ things back together after all that shit them other Black Handers have been pulling. He’ll be wanting a friend around in case he needs help. Now Sacramento may not be a big market, but it’s got all the big political boys. Find them a place where they can screw pretty girls like Dusty, drink up their favorite brand of Canadian scotch, and you’ll have all the protection you need. Keep a nice out of the way place here, and with the right friends you’ll control the rest of the state.
It’s why I brought you out here, actually. I need myself a good nancy-boy who keeps his hands off the titties, but is good with a gun when I need him to be. The other guys in our association, see, they don’t appreciate you. But when I picked you up out of that lineup at the Minneapolis Hebrew Foundling Home, I knew you wouldn’t fuck around and lose your head over some girl.
Zack: [cocks his pistol]
MFC: What’s that you’re thinkin’ of, Zack mah boy?
Zack: nothing, boss. Just that you sure put a lot of trust in a guy you put down all the time. Ain’t nobody around at the moment, and you’ve done laid out all the essentials of your business plan. All’s I gotta do is put in a piece of the puzzle here or there — maybe figure out who Tony’s working with on the Frisco docks to do the hand-off, think about who you’d know in the legislature, or whatever they call the liquor control board in California, or hell, maybe make my own friends there and not worry about whatever randy balding goysiche son of a bitch you been pimping to. [shoots him, low, in the legs]
MFC: FUCK! What the hell you gotta do that for, Zack, hunh? What the hell you gotta go and do that for?
Zack: ‘Cause you think you’re God’s gift, that’s why. Pride goeth before a fall. And ’cause you fuck with Dusty, that’s why.
MFC: What? Don’t tell me you got a soft spot for that girl? And here I thought you were a pansy.
Zack [shoots him again, in the legs] And that’s another thing. You got it coming to you calling me a pansy when I hear Dusty spanking your fat ass every night. Crying to her about how you’re a sweet mamma’s boy and promise not to be bad, that’s some sick shit [shoots him a third time, this time fatally].
Ella screams.
Zack: Aw, fuck. [Turns around, points gun].
Enter Phil.
Zack: Phil. Ella. I need a little help here.
Phil: What’s that, mister, uh, Zack?
[Ella takes another gulp of air to continue screaming.]
Zack: Could you get your wife under control? That screaming is making my finger itchy.
[Ella lets out the air].
Zack: Now, look. I don’t wanna hurt either of you, but I’ve got a gun. What I want is help disposing of this here…problem. I figure I can tell some story about how he remembered he had to make a business deal and had me drive him down the road aways where I dropped him off with an associate. In the meantime, we can load his clothes with rocks and feed him to the sturgeon.
Phil and Ella both look at him, silently.
Zack: You heard what he thought of you two together! He had it coming.
Phil: That don’t excuse murder, mister.
Zack: What? you’re gonna read me the catechism when I’m holding a gun?
Ella [steps in front of Phil]: What’ll you give us if we help you?
Zack: Give you? Why should I give you anything? I’ve got the gun, in case you hadn’t noticed.
Ella: You can make up some story about a..a business associate of your boss. None of us would question that. But if you kill either of us, Sheriff Jim will know. We’ve no reason to run off, not with Phil due back at the ranch at noon, and me due in the kitchen to help out Mrs. Logan. You can say what you want about Sheriff Jim, but he’s a good man. And he’ll know that you did something bad if you do anything bad to us.
Zack: I didn’t say nothing about your friend the sheriff. I don’t know him from Adam. You gonna help me, or not?
Ella: I wanna know what we get if we help you.
Phil: Now, Ella…
Zack: Helping me means not getting shot, sister.
Ella: I done already explained about how you can’t get away with it. Not with Phil already having been back to the hotel once and been seen by Mick and Sheriff Jim this morning.
Zack: ….
Ella: What’s this about liquor?
Zack: What?
Ella: What were you going on about liquor with that man you just shot?
Zack: Jesus, sister, don’t you read the paper? Volstead’s coming in next year and booze is about to be done.
Ella: So you’re one of them gangsters they talk about from Chicago that supply bootleg whiskey from Canada?
Zack: Yeah, I’m one of them gangsters they talk about from Chicago.
Phil: That’s a bad business, mister.
Zack: Bad? What’s so bad about making money? The minute they made it illegal where I was working last we doubled the prices on drinks. Kept out the riffraff and shut down our competitors.
Ella: I want in.
Zack and Phil both: What?
Ella: We help you bury this body, we run the bar.
Zack: Really? Who owns the bar? For sure not that Mick fellow.
Phil: Actually, he does. It’s the only thing Mr. Logan don’t own, and Mr. Mick he’s been fixin’ to sell. I guess because he knows about this Mr. Volstead coming to take away all the liquor.
Zack: if he wants to sell, then maybe we can make a deal.
Phil [to Ella]: I don’t know about this, honey. Are you sure you want to do this?
Ella: Oh, Phil. I want to get out of that man’s house. Baking Mrs. Logan’s pies so she can be so proud when she meets the other fancy ladies at that stupid festival. Changing his sheets and scrubbing her toilets. Sweeping up the ashes of those awful cigars. Knowing he’s looking at me…ugh I can’t stand it anymore. I want out, Phil. I want my own business. I want money enough to buy a house so we can live the two of us. I want one of those homes like I see in the Sears catalog. You know they’ll ship it to us all the way from Chicago? You could build me a house, Phil. Just like you said you would when we lived back in Hawaii. We can’t save enough for that working for Mr. Logan, never, Phil. Never.
Phil [Looks at her. Looks at the body. Looks at Zack.] Okay, Ella. If that’s what you want, it’s what I want too.
Zack: Okay. Then here’s what we’re going to do… [lights go down onstage. End of Act 1]
Pimpgnosis 