by Rick Polad
“You’re letting a cherubic face sway your thinking.”
“No, I’m—”
He held his hand up. “The reason we solve crimes is that the average criminal is dumber than a rock. But the smart ones… they’ll reel you in and keep you hooked until, when it serves their purpose, they stick a knife in you. You never see it coming.”
“No doubt, but you haven’t met—”
“I don’t have to. And your gut is probably right, but in this business it can get you killed. What better cover to work drugs than to be the nun who is trying to clean it up? You said she’s always on the street. She knows the neighborhood and the people and who’s doing what when.”
“Yeah, well…”
“Well nothing. All I’m saying is keep your eyes open and a leash on your emotions. Many a pretty face has been attached to a purse with a knife in it.”
He handed me the deck, and I shuffled and dealt.
As he fanned his cards, he said, “But the most likely answer is the gang. Rich kids from the suburbs cutting in on their action. They needed to send a message.”
“The message was sent with Reynolds.”
He shrugged and discarded a three. “Or maybe the gang hired the kids to expand business into the burbs. Maybe Thward put pressure on the senator’s kid, and the gang thought he was going to talk too.”
“Lots that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Welcome to my world. Always a lot of pieces. It’ll make sense when you fit the pieces together. Gin.” He laid down his cards. “And then there’s the puzzle that never gets put together.”
“Yeah, the gang is good at covering its tracks.”
He shuffled.
“Why would they bring her in just because her prints are on the gun?” I asked.
“To calm the waters.”
“Pardon?”
“They did need to talk to her. And there’s a lot of pressure from above to get this solved, so they needed to make it public… let everyone know they were doing something.”
“Pretty cruel to put her through that. She just lost her son.”
He shook his head. “Nobody said this game was polite.”
“One thing odd about the prints,” I said. “There were two sets found… hers and an unknown, which I assume is Reynolds’.”
“Ah, yes. Why are her prints on file?” He picked a card.
“Exactly.”
“Might be good to find out. So what’s your plan?”
“I’m trying to get an appointment with Thward.”
He laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“He’s not returning calls.”
“What else?”
“I need to buy a nun breakfast.”
Chapter 15
Sister Katherine had said that she and Benny had breakfast every morning at Time To Eat, so I left the house hungry and headed south. Thursday morning traffic on the Kennedy was worse than usual. I made up some time on Ogden, and the side street had no traffic, but I was ten minutes late. I pulled into a spot five buildings west of the diner. A woman across the street was sweeping dust off of the cement steps in front of her three-flat and onto the sidewalk leading through dirt and weeds to the front walk. Two windows were boarded up. A black cat was stretched out on her window ledge. The air was humid and smelled of wet dirt.
Three boys were sitting on the stoop of the building I was parked in front of. I had no idea how old they were… somewhere between twelve and twenty. They were wearing the same shirts and caps and passing around a cigarette. I wondered if that was how they’d spend their day, sitting and waiting for something to happen, something they could tell their grandkids. With drugs and guns and unemployment, all too often it did happen. Their main decision in life was which gang to join. And I could see the reason why from the blank looks on their faces. The gang offered something the system didn’t… something to belong to, a reason to get up in the morning. These kids weren’t the problem, but without them and others like them the problem wouldn’t exist. They didn’t seem to notice me, but they did notice my Mustang. I wondered if I was tempting fate. I also wondered if the cat had more on its mind than the boys did.
Benny and Sister Katherine were offering an alternative, but there were a lot more kids in the gangs than in that church basement.
I had decided that if I was going to go looking for trouble I’d better be ready if I found it. So, despite my aversion to carrying a gun, my new Taurus with its flat profile was in a shoulder holster under my jacket. In my wallet was a card that said I could do that. It was one of many cards that defined my existence.
I walked east and passed a grocery store and a barbershop with the red-white-and-blue-striped pole on the wall next to the door. The door of the grocery was propped open. There were two signs in the barbershop window. One said “Closed,” the other “Two Chairs No Waiting.” It was an old shop. The barber I went to had five chairs, and I usually had to wait.
Coming toward me from the east was a grizzled old man pushing a cart and ringing a bell. Judging by the sign on the side of the cart, sharpening knives was his specialty, but wares of various sorts hung from the sides of the cart. I wondered if he ever sold any. A dog barked from somewhere down the street to the west.
Benny was sitting by herself in one of the middle booths, engrossed in a sheaf of papers.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked.
She looked up and smiled. “Mr. Manning. What a nice surprise.” She held out her hand. “Please sit.”
I slid in opposite her.
“What brings you to our neck of the woods?”
“I heard this was a hot spot for breakfast,” I said with a smile.
She frowned, looked up and down the aisle, and then looked back at me with an impish grin.
“You and I seem to be the only ones who know about it.”
“We’ll keep it our secret. The service will be great.”
She nodded and sipped her coffee. The waitress came over with a pot and poured me a cup. She handed me a menu.
“Would you two like to order?”
“Give us another five minutes, Carmen. Thanks.”
Carmen was short and plump and had a smile that made me forget about the street outside.
“You come here a lot,” I said.
“Almost every day.”
“Does it get busier?”
“Not much. But they do a better lunch business.” Her eyes glazed over as she stared out the window. “This isn’t a neighborhood where people eat out much… or at all. But it used to be. This place has been in Carmen’s family for forty years. When they started, this was a different neighborhood. Now people can hardly afford their apartments. Several generations live in the same rooms.”
I let that thought sit and then said, “I was actually hoping to see Sister Katherine.”
She took another sip and said, “Me too.”
“Do you know where she is?”
She shook her head. “She’s hard to keep track of. She’s here most days for breakfast, and we use this as our meeting time. But she’s a bit like the wind. If she’s not here, something came up with one of the kids or one of the families. If there’s nothing critical, I’ll see her here tomorrow. If there is, she’ll stop by the church.”
Carmen walked around the counter and back to our booth.
“Ready?”
“Sure,” said Benny. “The usual please, Carmen.”
“I’ll have the Double Special, please, over easy.” Two eggs, two strips of bacon and two pancakes.
“Toast?”
“Wheat, please.” I handed her the menus.
“Coming right up.”
I glanced at my watch. Eight fifteen.
She sipped her coffee. “What did you want to see Katie about?”
“
I’ve been doing my best to get away from this drug case… and then Reynolds’ murder.” I started on my coffee. “But it keeps pulling me back in. I assume you heard about the senator’s son being killed and Mrs. Margot being questioned about it.”
“Of course… about all the news is talking about.”
“I met with her and her lawyer yesterday, and she wants me to help, against the advice of her high-priced lawyer.”
“Not fond of you is he?”
“To say the least.”
She smiled. “I’m going to assume if you agreed to look into it, a part of you thinks she’s innocent.”
“Good assumption. But don’t ask me how big that part is.”
She looked past me as the door opened. It wasn’t Katie. But the customers had doubled. They grew again a minute later when two policemen came in and waved to Carmen and Benny.
“And how do you think Katie can help?”
I took a deep breath and shook my head. “I have no idea. But this is where it all started. And if I had stayed on the drug charge I would have been talking to Sister Katherine.”
She nodded. “And you’re figuring the two murders are related.”
“Hard not to think that.”
Carmen arrived with the food. I was hungry.
After a few bites of her omelette, Benny asked, “You going to talk to Bast?”
“I wanted to talk to Sister first, but as long as I’m here I might as well stop by. I’m also still trying to get an appointment with Thward.”
She laughed. “Good luck. That’s one arrogant son of a bitch.”
“So I’ve heard, but I have a very persistent office manager. I’m hoping whoever answers the phone in his office will get tired of her.”
“Probably will, but that doesn’t mean Thward will care.”
“How do I get ahold of Sister Katherine?”
“This is your best bet, if you can manage two days in a row.”
I laughed. “Two days in a row of not having to eat my own cooking? I think I can manage.”
We chatted about the weather and the Cubs, finished our coffee, and went to work. Outside the diner, the neighborhood had come to life, but it was far from bustling. The knife sharpener’s cart was parked three buildings down from the diner. Hopefully he had found a customer. The boys were still there, and so was my Mustang. I nodded at them as I opened the door. Two of them nodded back.
***
As long as I was in the neighborhood, I decided to have a chat with Bast. Traffic had picked up, but the short drive to the fourth precinct station only took ten minutes. I told the desk sergeant who I wanted to see, and he tilted his head toward the stairs. Bast wasn’t at his desk, but a detective in the hall said he had gone to the head and would be right back. I sat on a wooden chair and thought about Reynolds while I waited. My thoughts meant nothing.
He came up on me from behind. “Manning, what brings you back to paradise?”
“I was in the neighborhood… thought I’d see if you had anything new.”
“In the neighborhood? You lost?”
I laughed. “Met somebody for breakfast at Time to Eat. Thought I’d see if you had anything new on Reynolds.”
He sat and shook his head. “Nope. Not going to either. The feds took everything from me after the senator’s kid was killed and the gun was IDed. They’re swarming on this like flies on a dumpster.”
“So I heard.”
He looked puzzled. “Why are you asking? I thought you quit.”
“Yeah, I’ve been trying, but I’m back in. Mrs. Margot wants my help.”
“Ah, I see.”
“But her lawyer doesn’t. He doesn’t think much of me.”
“And you so likable,” he said. “If her lawyer comes from the same congressional district as her that’s understandable.”
“How much time you think they’ll put in on Reynolds?”
“Well, none on the drug charge. Why pursue a case where the defendant is dead?”
I nodded. “How about his murder?”
He shrugged. “Not nearly as much as the senator’s kid. Unless of course they overlap.”
“And don’t you think they do?”
He shrugged again. “Maybe… maybe not.”
“Don’t you want to know?”
There was a rap on the door.
“Detective, Mrs. Lazon and Michael are here.”
“Thanks, Becky. Tell her I’ll come and get her in a few minutes.” He turned back to me with a sigh. “There’s a lot I’d like to know.” He thumbed through the pile of folders on his desk, pulled one out, and held it up. “Michael Lazon. Theft. He’s one of Benny’s kids. Part of the deal is he meets with me once a week. Mom insists on coming, and I’ve got no problem with that. There aren’t many parents involved around here.” He held up the rest of the pile. “Michael is one of the easy ones. The rest of these… well, there’s just not enough time or personnel. So, sure I’d like to know, but I can’t afford the luxury of looking into a crime that no longer means anything.”
I sat forward in the chair and said, “I think it might mean something. That’s what started all this. And then there’s the murder.”
“That the feds have taken over.”
“Do you have any information on the drug case?” I asked.
“Just what you already know.”
“No interviews?”
He shook his head. “Wasn’t much time between that and the murder, and it was just another case on the pile.”
It looked like Reynolds Margot would just be a folder in a drawer. “Okay, thanks. If you happen to run across anything would you let me know?”
“Of course.” He got up, shook my hand, and walked me out to the bench in the hall where Michael and his mother were waiting.
“See you, Detective.”
“Yup. Good luck, Manning.”
***
As I was pulling out of the parking lot, my car phone rang. I pulled into a spot and picked it up.
“Spencer, it’s Carol.”
“Yes, it is. How’s Watson?”
“I’m fine, thanks for asking.”
I laughed. “What’s up?”
“The squeaky wheel finally got some grease. Agent Thward will give you fifteen minutes of his time at eleven this morning. Can you make it?”
“Sure. Nice job!”
“Do you need the address?”
“Nope. Federal building downtown, right?”
“Right.”
“Thanks, kiddo. I’ll stop for lunch on the way back.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
“Should be interesting. Adios.”
As I was waiting to pull into traffic the phone rang again.
“Me again, Spencer.”
“You miss me?”
“Like a dog misses fleas. You got another request for a meeting.”
“I’m a popular guy. Who?”
“Larry Maggio would like to see you. He specified after lunch.”
A squad car pulled up behind me. I waved him around.
“What would you like me to tell him? How long do you think your appointment with Thward will be?”
I laughed again. “Less than fifteen minutes. He’s just seeing me to stop the wheel from squeaking.”
“So what time?”
“He’s not far from the federal building. Tell him one. I’ll get lunch down there. I’ll make it up to you.”
“From the FBI to the Mafia. You run in strange circles.”
“As long as I keep running, my dear.”
“I’m looking forward to hearing about it.”
“Lunch tomorrow. Thanks, Carol.”
I pulled out of the lot and headed downtown.
Chapter 16
As soon
as I opened the door to Thward’s office I picked up the smell of cigarette smoke. A middle-aged woman wearing a blue blouse looked up at me from behind a wooden desk with a typewriter on a side extension to her left. She wasn’t smoking. The nameplate on the front of her desk identified her as Mrs. Mitchell. There was a couch on the wall to my left and cushioned chairs against the wall to my right. Three doors behind her led to offices, one of which had the window blinds closed. I was ten minutes early.
“Good morning,” she said. “May I help you?”
I gave her my best smile. She deserved nothing less after answering all of Carol’s calls. “Good morning. Spencer Manning. I have an appointment.”
“Certainly, Mr. Manning. I’ll let Agent Thward know you’re here.”
She pressed a button on the intercom. “Agent Thward, Mr. Manning is here.”
There was a ten second pause.
“Mrs. Mitchell. The appointment is for eleven. Perhaps you should have one of your children teach you how to tell time.”
She closed her eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Mr. Manning, Agent Thward is busy at the moment. Please have a seat. He’ll be with you in—”
“Ten minutes,” I said with the same smile.
“Well, yes.”
She gave me a look that thanked me for not saying more, but there was plenty more I wanted to say.
I watched the clock on the wall. At exactly eleven her intercom buzzed, and Thward told her she could show me in. She stood and opened the door for me. I winked at her as I walked by and found the source of the smoke. It hung in the air of his office. I didn’t know if taking short, shallow breaths would help any, but that was my plan. I did have to admit that, his personality aside, he had created an atmosphere no one in their right mind would want to be in.
Thward’s view from the eighth floor was nice, but not as nice as Maggio’s. There were lots of buildings between him and the lake.
Thward didn’t stand and didn’t offer to shake hands. I sat in front of his desk. I thought I should at least introduce myself.
“I’m—”
“I know who you are. Aside from the fact that you have a persistent secretary, why am I giving you time?”
