Free Small Felonies - Fifty Mystery Short Stories by Bill Pronzini

difficult."
    "So how do you pay the bills? You got a little something going on the side?"
    "Something going?"
    "A sideline. A little numbers action, maybe?"
    "No, I have no sideline."
    "Come on, everybody's got some kind of scam. I mean, it's a dog-eat-dog world, right? Everybody's got to make ends meet any way he can."
    "That is true," Giftholz said. "But I have no scam. I do not even know the word."
    Mitchell shook his head. Giftholz probably didn't have a scam; it figured that way. One of these old-fashioned merchant types who were dead honest. And poor as hell because they didn't believe in screwing their customers and grabbing a little gravy where they could. But still, the way things were these days, how did he stand up to the grind? Even with his cheap prices, he couldn't compete with the big chain outfits that had specials and drawings and gave away stamps; and he had to pay higher and higher wholesale prices himself for the stuff he sold. Yet here he was, still in business. Mitchell just couldn't figure out how guys like him did it.
    Giftholz finished making the sandwich, put it on a paper plate, laid a big cup of slaw beside it, opened a beer from his small refrigerator, and put everything down on the counter. He was smiling as he did it—a kind of proud smile, like he'd done something fine.
    "It is two dollars, please, Mr. Mitchell."
    Two dollars. Man. The same meal would have cost him four or five at one of the places uptown. Mitchell shook his head again, reached into his pocket, and flipped his wallet out.
    When he opened it and fingered through the thick roll of bills inside, Giftholz's eyes got round. Probably because he'd never seen more than fifty bucks at one time in his life. Hell , Mitchell thought, give him a thrill . He opened the wallet wider and waved it under Giftholz's nose.
    "That's what real money looks like, Giftholz," he said.
    "Five bills here, five hundred aces. And plenty more where that came from."
    "Where did you earn so much money, Mr. Mitchell?"
    Mitchell laughed. "I got a few connections, that's how. I do little jobs for people and they pay me big money."
    "Little jobs?"
    "You don't want me to tell you what they are. They're private jobs, if you get my drift."
    "Ah," Giftholz said, and nodded slowly. "Yes, I see."
    Mitchell peeled out the smallest of the bills, a fiver, and laid it on the counter. "Keep the change, Giftholz. I feel generous today."
    "Thank you," Giftholz said. "Thank you so much."
    Mitchell laughed again and took a bite of his hero. Damned good. Giftholz made the best sandwiches in the city, all right. How could you figure a guy like him?
    He ate standing up at the counter; there was one little table against the back wall, but from here he could watch Giftholz putter around in slow motion. Nobody else came into the deli; he would have been surprised if somebody had. When he finished the last of the hero and the last of the beer, he belched in satisfaction and wiped his hands on a napkin. Giftholz came over to take the paper plate away; then he reached under the counter and came up with a bowl of mints and a small tray of toothpicks.
    "Please," he said.
    "Free mints? Since when, Giftholz?"
    "It is because you are a good customer."
    It is because I gave you a three-buck tip , Mitchell thought. He grinned at Giftholz, helped himself to a handful of mints, and dropped them into his coat pocket. Then he took a toothpick and worked at a piece of sausage that was stuck between two of his teeth.
    Giftholz said, "You would do me a small favor, Mr. Mitchell?"
    "Favor? Depends on what it is."
    "Come with me into the kitchen for a moment."
    "What for?"
    "There is something I would show you. Please, it will only take a short time."
    Mitchell finished excavating his teeth, tucked the toothpick into a corner of his mouth, and shrugged. What the hell, he might as well humor the old guy. He had time; he didn't have any more little jobs to do today. And there wouldn't be any gambling or