Shattered Angel

by Baird Nuckolls

  “Need anything boss?” He didn’t comment on the gun. “George left everything ready. Do you want to open at the usual time?”

  “Marty, I think we should wait until I’ve finished my business here. Keep an eye out for Mr. O’Brien, who should be arriving any minute now. After we’re done here, you can open up the club.”

  “Sure, Mr. Hart.”

  Marty’s interruption had broken the silence, but not the tension.

  “Maggie is a beautiful girl, Mickey. I hope she knows how much I can do for her. This is a dangerous city, a difficult place for someone without connections. And I can offer her that.”

  “She’s got connections,” Mickey hissed. “And she don’t need your help.”

  “Oh, because you’re taking such good care of her, is that it? While you were in Sing-Sing?”

  “We’re family and we look out for our own.”

  “I can understand that, Mickey. I look out for my own, as well. In fact, if you and Sean do this job I have for you, I will be more than happy to look out for you as well. What do you think of that?”

  “Because if I don’t, you’ll shoot me? Is that right, Mr. Hart? Well, I don’t need your help, either.”

  “Oh, Mickey…”

  Before Hart could continue, the door burst open and Sean appeared, carrying a brown canvas satchel. He was out of breath, white as a sheet except for two red spots of color high on his cheekbones.

  “Here we are, Mr. Hart,” he said, setting the bag down on the carpet next to Mickey’s feet.

  “Hand it here, please, Sean.”

  The other two men exchanged looks and Mickey nodded. Sean lifted the bag onto the desk. Hart pulled it over to his lap and opened it with one hand, keeping the gun aimed at Mickey. Satisfied with the contents, he rose and carried it over to his safe, placed it inside, then closed the door and spun the dial.

  “Now, gentlemen, let us move on to the next step of our business.” He set the gun down on the desk and Mickey lunged for it.

  He leaned over the desk, bringing the gun to bear on Hart’s chest, and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Morelli

  The desk chair squealed as he leaned back. When that position didn’t yield any ideas, Morelli leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk. He looked down at the paper spread in front of him. No news about the death of Angel Eldridge, previously known to him as Mrs. Hart. He’d expected to see something in the news, but perhaps it was too soon. Or perhaps the Harts had pulled some strings to keep it out of the papers. He should check with Sally to see what she’d heard. But then again, maybe that wasn’t the best idea. He also needed to call Danny, but he wasn’t sure what to tell him. Aside from discovering the true identity of his deceased client, he wasn’t any further along in finding out who killed her.

  He had waited at Maggie’s for over an hour, slowly sipping his glass of water and letting her settle down, like calming a wild animal through quiet proximity. She’d eventually left him alone and gone to the other room to sit by herself. When Mickey didn’t return by full dark, Morelli gave up and came back to his office.

  He was considering going downstairs and using Otten’s phone when there was a knock at his office door. The shadow from the hall loomed against the glass; it was a tall man. He briefly thought about getting out his gun, but decided that the knock hadn’t been violent. He went and opened the door to find Otten standing in the hallway.

  “Herr Morelli, I need your help. May I come in?”

  “Sure.” He stepped aside and let his landlord through the door. Otten waved off his offer of a chair and started pacing across the front of the office.

  “What can I do for you, Otten?” Morelli went and sat behind his desk, hoping it would encourage his guest to sit down.

  “I think that someone is planning to rob my store.” He turned and looked at Morelli. His face was ashen. He was more upset than Morelli had ever seen him.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “There has been a man standing across the street, sometimes walking past the store. They look in, but they do not enter. I caught him staring in the window when I came out the back.”

  “Have you ever seen him before?”

  “No, I have not. I asked Marlena even, if she recognized him, and she said no. I do not want to scare her, so I said nothing. But I am afraid for us.” Otten finally slumped into the chair across from Morelli and dropped his head into his hands. Morelli could see the pale round of skin at the top of his head where his hair had receded.

  “Did you call the police?”

  “No, no. There is nothing I can say to them. But I have a bad feeling about this. You have a gun, Herr Morelli, do you not?”

  Morelli thought about his service revolver in the safe. “Yes. Just what did you have in mind?”

  “I want you to guard the store tonight. Bring your gun. Protect my store. I need your help.”

  Morelli hated to disappoint Otten, but he needed to keep looking into the Hart business and find out what happened to his client.

  “Otten, I’m working on another case and I have…”

  “Please, Herr Morelli,” Otten interrupted. “Think of Marlena. She is not safe and I cannot sleep from worry.” He dropped his hands and clenched them in his lap. “I will pay you, of course.”

  “All right, Otten. I’ll stay tonight. Keep an eye out for this guy. But if he doesn’t show up, I’m going to have to get back to my other work. It’s important, too.”

  “Yes, yes. I understand. I have such a bad feeling, though. You must come now.” Otten rose and looked at Morelli. “Please come.”

  “Sure, sure, I’ll be right there. Just go on downstairs and I’ll be along.”

  Morelli showed Otten out and then locked the door. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his landlord, but he didn’t want to open the safe with him there. He moved the desk and rolled back the rug. He lifted the gun and a box of cartridges out of the safe and relocked it. He wondered if he should call Danny now. When they worked together, Danny had backed him up through whatever trouble Morelli had gotten himself into. Trouble with Sally, trouble on the streets, even saw him through the dark days when he’d been forced out of a job. Morelli never took a fix and that didn’t make him too popular, particularly when he suggested that they be more like him. Danny was a good man to have at your back in a tight spot. However, for his own sake, it might be better not to get him too involved.

  Unwrapped, the gun glinted in the desk light. A Colt Police Positive with a five-inch barrel, it held six rounds of .38 ammunition. He thought back to the last time he’d fired it: standing in that alley. He’d stood there, frozen, until after the rapist had cut Sally; the sight of her collapsing had restarted his heart and he’d fired. He told himself that he’d hesitated because he wasn’t sure if he could hit his target without hurting Sally. And she ended up hurt even worse than he’d ever thought possible. Maybe he was just a coward.

  Morelli loaded the cylinder, spun it, and put the gun in his coat pocket. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to use it again tonight, but if he did, he didn’t intend to hesitate.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The Golden Ruby

  The trigger compressed against the firing pin and Sean flinched. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see the spray of blood, or the fall of Hart’s lifeless body to the floor.

  Click.

  Hart laughed and Sean opened his eyes.

  The gun had been empty. The whole thing had been a trick. He was never planning to kill Mickey and now he had the cocaine locked up in his safe and there was nothing they could do about it.

  Mickey sat back down in his chair, shaking his head. He dropped the gun on the table, reached for his whiskey glass and drained it in one gulp.

  “That’s just fine, just fine.”

  Hart laughed again and refilled Mickey’s glass.

  “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s talk about what happens next.”


  “What’s going on, Mr. Hart?” Sean was confused and even more frightened now. A man that would let himself be drawn on, even knowing that the gun was empty, was plain crazy.

  “You have the cocaine and haven’t paid us a cent. Ain’t that what you wanted?”

  Hart calmly took a sip of his own whiskey and smiled.

  “No, Sean, actually, I intend to pay you for the cocaine. I just want it here for safekeeping. And in order to pay you, I need your help. Both yours and Mickey’s. You see, we need to make a withdrawal from my bank. An unexpected one.” Hart leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. “Let me explain.”

  Twenty minutes later, the three men walked out of Hart’s office. Hart shook hands with both Sean and Mickey, who looked resigned.

  “Marty, would you show these gentlemen out? Then I’d like to have a word with you about a little job I want you to do with them. And then I think we’re ready to open for business.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Morelli

  Sunday night

  Morelli stood in the narrow lobby of his building, which had a separate entrance from the jewelry store. The main door into Otten’s store was from the street. In the back of the store was Otten’s office. There was a window into the alley, but no rear entrance. Theoretically, that should make it easier to defend. However, there was a small door in the office that led to a set of narrow stairs into the basement. Otten took care of the boiler down there that provided the steam heat. It had a metal access hatch in the front sidewalk for the delivery of coal, but Morelli didn’t think it was a problem.

  He peered outside carefully, looking for anyone loitering on the street. There was no one around at the moment. It had been dark for several hours; the businesses in the building were long closed and most of the people who lived in the area should be home having dinner by now. He let himself out the front door and walked around the back to check the alley. No one in sight. He kicked a few trashcans, just to see what he might scare up, but there weren’t even any stray cats out at that time of night.

  Back around the front, he let himself into the jewelry store itself. Otten was sitting in the doorway to his office, a large cleaver resting on his knee.

  “Hey, Otten, what were you planning to do, chop off someone’s head?”

  “Nein. Just trying to scare them off.”

  “Crazy German with a big knife.” Morelli laughed. “Go home and take care of Marlena. I’ll watch out for the shop. You put all the good stuff in the safe, didn’t you?”

  “Yah, sure, it’s all in the safe. But I don’t want trouble. You watch and take care of it for me, right Morelli?”

  “Yes, sir. No problem. Go on home.”

  Otten stood and set the cleaver down on his desk.

  “Won’t you need that at home, you know, to make dinner?” Morelli laughed; Otten looked more like a butcher with that cleaver, than a jeweler.

  “Nein, I want it here for the morning.”

  “All right, Otten. Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.”

  Otten finally left and Morelli locked the door behind him. The street was quiet, with only the occasional passerby. Each time he saw someone, Morelli would move to the corner of the store, in the shadows, watching until they passed out of sight. The rest of the time, he sat by the doorway into the office to listen for noises from the alley. It was a long night; the street became silent except for the wind, which grew in fervor as the night went on.

  Sometime after midnight it began to rain hard. The hissing of the water was hypnotic and Morelli had to fight to stay awake. He walked up and down in the store, one hand in his pocket cradling the gun. In the dark of the night, he had to take a leak, so he let himself out the front door and stood on the stoop, pissing into the rain. When he came back inside, he pulled Otten’s desk chair up to the side wall of the shop and sat for a change.

  A noise woke him. He’d leaned his head back against the wall just for a moment and had fallen asleep. Now he was sitting straight up, trying to figure out what the sound was and where. He didn’t move a muscle. The shop was empty and everything seemed to be in its place. He stood and walked to the window and looked down the street. Nothing moved.

  The rain was still coming down and the drumming made it hard to identify any other noises. Then he heard the sound of metal on metal. He stepped carefully to the doorway and looked into Otten’s office.

  He could just make out a dark shape over by the safe. The cellar door stood open. He quickly stepped back into the front of the shop and stood out of sight. The safe was locked and too heavy to move, so it should be protected. He just needed to scare this guy off and everything would be okay. He pulled his gun out of his pocket and stepped into the doorway, the revolver held out in front of him.

  “Freeze, police.” The voice of command was a bit rusty, but he was counting on the old routines to fall into place.

  The robber turned and stared at him. Morelli got a flash of the whites of his eyes, surrounded by darkness, before he fled back down the stairs. Morelli stopped for just a moment to check on the safe, which seemed to still be locked, before turning to the front of the shop.

  Flinging open the front door, he ran out into the rain. The sound of a cough drew his gaze to the right. There was a flash of movement at one end of the street. The robber was headed west, toward the river. If he got much farther, Morelli would never find him. He took off running and nearly fell into the open coal chute. Morelli couldn’t believe that he’d gotten in and out that way. He staggered after the robber, his shin bleeding.

  The man reached the corner and turned right. Morelli followed, hoping he wasn’t headed to a waiting car. The sidewalk was awash in water and trash; Morelli’s shoes were soaked within three steps. He pounded down the narrow street, the rain streaming down his neck and soaking his shirt. The dark shape reached the corner of the alley, but his shoes must have been slick with all the rain and muck. He slid to his knees, hands headed forward. Morelli gained ground on him. Before he could reach him, the man righted himself and ducked around the corner. Morelli was right on his tail. The pounding of their footsteps echoed off the building walls. The overhang of the tenements here had kept out some of the rain and the footing was better. The man looked over his shoulder once and saw how close Morelli had gotten. He put on a burst of speed just as he came out of the alley at the other end.

  There, idling at the curb, was the getaway car Morelli had dreaded. The man flung himself at the open door just as Morelli cleared the alley. Morelli raised his arm and leveled the gun at the car. One good shot should stop it in its tracks. He drew a breath to steady his aim just as the door banged shut and the car began to pull away. The car careened around the corner and was gone. Morelli didn’t even know if he’d managed to hit anything.

  ***

  Back at the store, Morelli closed the metal cover over the coal chute. He relocked the front door and then went upstairs to his own office for a towel. He didn’t want to drip all over Otten’s nice hardwood floor. Back downstairs, he went down in the basement with a flashlight. A pile of toppled pile of crates near the front of the building indicated where the thief had climbed up to escape. Morelli could see drag marks in the dust as well as footprints just below the coal chute. He must have jumped down into the cellar, then moved the crates before venturing upstairs, ensuring that he could make a fast getaway if necessary. Morelli went back upstairs and called Otten on his office phone.

  When Otten arrived, he was muttering thickly in German and stomping through the rain. Morelli had merely asked him to come to the shop; he hadn’t told him what had happened. Otten unlocked the front door and came to the office, where Morelli was waiting for him.

  “You were right, Otten. Someone was casing the joint.”

  “Mein gotten. What happened? How did… did you… ?” Otten rushed to the safe and checked to see if it had been opened. It remained locked.

  “You saved me.” Otten collapsed into his desk chair with a huge sigh.


  Morelli couldn’t believe it was possible. He was sure that he’d failed to protect the store and Otten’s merchandise.

  “You mean, he didn’t get anything? I don’t see how that’s possible. He had something in his hands when he ran out of here. That’s why I chased him; that’s why I shot at him.”

  “You shot him? Did you kill him?” Otten looked shocked and yet somehow hopeful.

  “No, no. I shot at the getaway car; I was trying to stop him. See, I was in the other room when he came in. I heard him and came to investigate. When I confronted him, he ran and I chased him down the alley.” Morelli didn’t want to mention that he’d been asleep when the man broke into the store. Since nothing was taken, perhaps it wasn’t necessary to say anything about it. They might even keep the police out of it.

  “Are you sure that everything is here?”

  “I will look, but ja, I think so.” Otten rose and began carefully stacking the contents of the safe on a table. Finally, he replaced it all in the safe. “Ja. Everything is safe.”

  “I’m glad, Otten. I don’t think he’ll be back, now that he knows we’re on to him and I have a gun.”

  “I’m not so sure, Herr Morelli. If he really wants my jewels, he may try again.”

  “Do you have another safe? Somewhere else you can store the jewels?”

  “No, there is no other safe.” Otten ran his meaty hand over his eyes. “Wait, there is a safe. In your office.”

  Morelli hadn’t thought of his safe. Yes, that might be the best solution. After all, he’d let Otten down by falling asleep. The least he could do was safeguard the jewelry until Otten figured something out.

  “All right. Let’s move it then. We better do it now, before anyone notices us transferring all of Ottensluffer’s Fine Jewels into a lowly PI’s office.”

  Otten laughed weakly and nodded. Together they gathered all the jewelry into boxes and carried them upstairs.