Red Flags by Ed Goldberg

Author:Ed Goldberg [Goldberg, Ed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Communism, Mystery & Detective, Murder - Investigation, Hard-Boiled, Crime
ISBN: 9781601741448
Publisher: Uncial Press
Published: 2012-09-14T15:59:08+00:00

A Couple of Days in Miami Beach

(reconstructed from various sources, and perhaps a bit of speculation)

It looked like rain.

But, it always looked like rain in Miami Beach at this time of year. The old man sat on a bench looking out over the beach and toward the ocean. With no sunshine on it, the water was a leaden gray. Then the sun broke through the clouds, turning the water the shade of Caribbean blue the tourists sighed for.

The old man raised his face to the sun, absorbing the warmth. He had always known that old people felt the cold acutely, but he was sure that it was worse for him. Cold hands, cold toes, cold putz, cold nose...

He laughed at his little poem, until he began to cough.

Vey iz mir. "Golden years, my ass," he said aloud. He pulled his tattered sweater closed across his chest, and adjusted his battered hat firmer on his head.

"You said it, brother," came a voice from behind him.

The old man turned, awkwardly, to look around. Another old man stood behind him. A bit of a dandy, with spectator shoes, a vintage Palm Beach suit, natty Panama hat, a little mustache.

"If I knew how old I was gonna get, I would've taken better care of myself. My name is Harry. You?"

"Mendelson, Danny Mendelson. You live around here?"

"Naah. In West Palm."

"Palm Beach, like your suit?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, I guess. I come down to Miami Beach every now and then. I saw you sittin' on the bench, heard you complainin'..." He shrugged. "Figured you might want some company."

"Sit, sit." Mendelson gestured to the bench. "I was just looking out at the water." He lowered his voice. "I do this a lot."

"Undercover work, eh?"

Mendelson laughed. "Yeah, I'm a secret agent. If anything goes wrong..."

"You call the FBI?"

"Ptooie!" Mendelson spat. "I'd sooner eat a rotten nectarine. I had enough of the FBI to last me forever." His own reaction surprised him.

Harry sat and looked at Mendelson. He crossed his legs and carefully adjusted the crease of his trousers. "Take it easy, old timer. What's wrong with the G-Men? Al Capone, Bonnie and Clyde, Eliot Ness, all that crap."

Mendelson blinked, wondering to himself, then just let it all go.

"Ptooie, again. Those bastards destroyed my life."

"What were you, a bootlegger?"

"Hah! Worse! I was an anti-fascist."

Harry looked puzzled. "Wasn't everybody?"

"You'd-a thought so, huh? But Hoover said it was a crime. They said I was a red. So help me, I don't know if I ever met one."

Harry looked around, and whispered, "Easy, brother. I was just testing. You can't be too careful, not even now."

Now it was Mendelson's turn to look puzzled.

"What are you saying, Harry?"

"I was ruined by the witch hunt, too. I saw my whole life go down the toilet because of my beliefs."

Mendelson looked at Harry's face. He was old enough. But, the caution exercised over so many years restrained Mendelson. I've said too much already.

"Really, pal. You can trust me. I'm a victim of those days myself. I'm glad to have someone to talk to about it.

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