The Best Tip Ever

by Mark Best

Benny was nervous when he entered the boss's office. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Lambrusco?"

"Yes, Benny, I did. The boys here tell me you got quite a tip tonight."

This made Benny relax. He was afraid that he had done something wrong. It was only when he'd made a mistake that Mr. Lambrusco wanted to see him. "Yes, sir. A guy, he had himself two beers, and he left me a hundred dollars and told me to keep it."  Benny looked around, nervous again, afraid that some of the others might want to take his money. He knew that he wasn't one of "The Boys." He also knew that the only reason Mr. Lambrusco gave him a job was because his father had worked for Mr. Lambrusco, and had died on the job. Benny never knew how.

"Wow," said Mr. Lambrusco, "that's some tip."

"It's the best tip ever!"

"You must have really been nice to him, Benny."

"Oh I was. I poured the beer just like Johnny taught me, so there was only a little foam. And I made sure the popcorn bowl was right by him in case he got hungry."

"What did this fellow look like, Benny?  I want to make sure we're all real nice to him if he ever comes in here again."

"Well," Benny said, trying to remember. Thinking was not a skill that came effortlessly to him. "He was a big guy, bigger than me. He was blonde, had really blue eyes. Oh, and he had a bunch of them little holes on his chin, like my brother Joey had on his face after he had the chicken pox."

"Our old friend, Detective McMichael," said a voice from behind Benny.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw that it was Jack Marion. Mr. Lambrusco never went anywhere without Jack.
"He wasn't no detective, Jack. Honest." Benny looked back at Lambrusco.

"He said he was a salesman. I think he even knew you, Mr. Lambrusco."

"Why do you think that, Benny?"

"Cause he asked about you, is why. He asked if you were coming in tonight."

"And what did you tell him?"

"Gee, Mr. Lambrusco, I never know when you're coming in. And I remembered
what you told me that other time, about not telling no one when you are here.

 So I told him I didn't know."

"Did he believe you Benny?"

"Not at first he didn't. He kept asking me if I was sure, like maybe I was lying. And I told him I was sure, that every Wednesday I knew that you were at the warehouse."

"You told him about the warehouse?" Jack asked.

"No, I just told him that was where you usually were on Wednesday on account of that's when we get our booze in. That's how I knew he knew you, cause he said 'You mean the warehouse down on Willard?'  And I said, 'No, the one on Seventeenth and Broadway,' and he said 'Oh yeah.'  I don't think I've ever been in the warehouse on Willard, Mr. Lambrusco. What do we have there?"

"Benny, did you tell him anything else about the warehouse?"

"No, sir, only what he asked me.  He wanted to know if you were there when all the shipments came in, and I said no, that you only went when we got the booze in, or when Mr. Escober brings in a shipment."

Marion swore under his breath, and Benny got nervous again. "Don't worry,

Mr. Lambrusco. I knew you wouldn't want to talk to him, so I sent him somewhere I know you never go. Remember when you sent me to that other place on the South Side? The one with all the girls?" Benny got a faraway look. He had never had a girlfriend. "Anyway, I remember Miss Catherine saying that you never, ever came there, and that they never even mentioned your name there. So I told him that's where you were," Benny said, proudly.

"Benny, Benny, Benny."  Lambrusco shook his head. "I warned you after the last time you weren't to tell anyone anything about me. I really wish you had listened."

Benny instinctively put his hand in his pocket, where he had put his tip.

"You're not going to take my tip, are you, Mr. Lambrusco?"

"No, Benny, I'm not taking your tip," he said, as he nodded behind Benny to Jack Marion.

Benny smiled and held the hundred dollar bill tighter inside his pocket. He had never had that much money before and, despite being in Mr. Lambrusco's office, he started day dreaming about how he was going to spend the best tip ever. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he never heard the metallic click behind him, or felt the cold tickle when the barrel touched the back of his head.   

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