The Fedora Fandango: A Dieselpunk Adventure (The Crossover Case Files Book 5)

by Richard Levesque

  The Fedora Fandango

  The Crossover Case Files

  Book 5

  Richard Levesque

  Copyright © 2021 RICHARD LEVESQUE

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. Any historical figures, setting, or events described in this book are also a product of the author’s imagination and are not intended as depictions actual people, places, or events.

  Cover design & illustration © 2021 Duncan Eagleson

  Photo sources:

  Men: Sergey Lugovsky / Ysbrandcosijn / theartofphoto / stock.adobe.com

  Woman: Boris Ryaposov / stock.adobe.com

  Used By Permission

  All Rights Reserved

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Author’s Note

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “What the hell did you just say?” the redhead asked, venom in her tone.

  Stony G, I thought. How I knew her name, I can’t say. It must have been a hangover effect.

  She had a blaze of curly red hair, a pointy nose, and a black patch over her left eye, held in place with a leather thong that made a dark line across her fiery mane.

  Stony G crouched on the floor across from me. Between us were a pair of dice and several scattered bills. A healthy pile of cash was right in front of me. The dice had bounced off the wall and landed a few inches away from Stony G’s bare knees. Eight, the hard way.

  Several men and a few women were grouped around her, some crouching and others standing but leaning eagerly forward. Glancing to my left and right, I saw that I was surrounded by the same sort of crowd. Most looked rough—workman’s shirts and pants, women wearing plain shifts and tired hats. These weren’t high rollers in a classy casino, nor were they respectable Angelinos out on the town, taking in an illegal backroom crap game on a lark, something to brag to their friends about when they got back to their tasteful houses on the west side. No, the gamblers here were the desperate and jaded, people for whom any side of the tracks was the wrong side. They wore their hard lives on their faces, and the tumbling dice represented much more than luck or the lack of it. It was the kind of crowd where there were bound to be more than a few knives up sleeves and revolvers in waistbands.

  They all bowed to Stony G. And Stony G was not happy with me right now.

  She seethed, her nostrils flaring. The men on either side of her had backed away a little, maybe to give her space.

  To the left of me, a little fellow with grizzled stubble on his chin and a simpleton’s smile on his lips said, “I know what he said, Stony.”

  The red-haired woman shot him an angry look. Her lone eye had to work overtime to get the job done, but it succeeded.

  Two members of the little crowd behind me leaned forward and gripped the little guy’s shoulders, edging him back from the circle that surrounded the crap game.

  “I know what he said!” the grizzled gambler protested.

  “That’s okay, Charlie,” one of the others said.

  “Stony knows, too,” the other added.

  “Then why’d she ask?” Charlie countered, clearly confused. Before either of the men working to get him out of harm’s way could reply, he added, “He said, ‘I guess I’ll see you around.’ Just like that. I heard him. I was right next to him.”

  “That’s good, Charlie,” one of his protectors said, and then all three were swallowed by the throng of spectators amid a chorus of shushing.

  The distraction gone, Stony G turned her eye back to me, waiting.

  Myriad questions flew through my mind—chief among them having to do with where I was and how long the Jed who’d hijacked me had been in control of my body and mind. Those questions weren’t as important as the ones I asked myself about Stony G and what she might be capable of.

  “Sorry, Stony” I said, trying to add together all the clues I’d just gathered and arrive at an answer that didn’t involve stitches and a cast. “I didn’t think there’d be a problem with me clearing out now.”

  “Not with all my scratch,” she said.

  “You saying I cheated?” I asked, hoping the Jed who’d hijacked me had done no such thing. As I spoke, I ran my right hand across my coat, hoping to find the unforgiving bulge of a gun there, but I felt nothing.

  Stony raised the brow above the good eye but said nothing.

  I felt the crowd around me get a little closer, awaiting her order.

  Trying to move as casually and naturally as possible, I repeated the search for a gun with my left hand, hoping it looked like I was trying to find cigarettes. Again, no gun.

  I formulated Plan B pretty quickly.

  “You want a shot at winning some of this back,” I said, reaching for the dice. “I get it. One more game and I’m gone, regardless of the outcome. Deal?”

  Her cyclops stare drilled right into me. “You’ll be gone all right.”

  I cleared my throat. “Not sure I like the sound of that,” I said as I started shaking the dice.

  In my glancing around, I’d been able to tell that the unsavory group my unknown doppelganger had dropped me into had gathered in an otherwise empty room in a rundown house. A bare bulb hung from wires that dropped out of the ceiling. The floor was bare, and the paint on the walls was faded and chipped; there were a few large water stains on the ceiling. I could see no furniture, and the only thing on any of the walls was a tattered blanket held up with tacks, probably an impromptu window shade. The most important thing, as far as I was concerned, was the open door to my right, but there were so many people between me and this exit that I didn’t think it very useful at the moment.

  I rolled a six—a two and a four.

  A few of the gamblers murmured at this, and a couple tossed dollar bills into the circle.

  “No,” Stony G said, and they retrieved their cash. “This one’s mine alone. Me and him.”

  She didn’t put any money down.

  “You’re not wagering?” I asked.

  “I don’t need to.”

  “You’re saying if I win, I walk away. I lose, you take it all back.”

  Glancing at the stack of bills in front of me, a five on top, I had to wonder how much my double had won from this woman and her cronies. I could have just slid it across the floor to her, gotten up, and walked away. The prospect rubbed me the wrong way, though.

  “That’s not the way the game is usually played,” I said.

  She stared and said nothing, daring me silently to continue.

  Never one to turn down a dare, I gathered the dice and rolled them. A five and a four.

  Stony G’s gaze went from the dice and back to me.

  Again, she said without speaking.

  I cleared my throat and gave them another toss.

  A one and a five.

  Winner, winner.

  If I’d been thinking I could bask in the glory of throwing the dice well, I’d have been wrong. It was a good thing that I was thinking no such thing.

  Stony G made a qui
ck movement with her hands that no one would ever have mistaken for an absent-minded search for a pack of smokes, and then she lunged at me while the onlookers burst into shouts of excitement.

  In the same instant, I reached for the pile of bills and threw them high into the air before rolling to my right. I heard a thud and a scraping sound that must have been Stony’s knife hitting the bare floor, maybe an inch away from my leg, maybe less.

  At the same time, the jaded onlookers had become highly animated, their excitement at my impending skewering having shifted into excitement at the dirty bills that had just rained down upon them. Some dropped to the floor in a scramble while others bent at the knee, a little more dignified. I’m sure more than one got their fingers smashed under heels and soles as their fellows jostled and dove, a fitful dance without music or rhythm.

  None of this mattered to me. All I wanted was the door, and I made for it, jumping into the fray but clamoring not at all for the fallen cash.

  Behind me, I heard a woman’s shout, and I paused only long enough to see Stony G getting to her feet, the knife still in her hand again. I ducked as she flung it, and I heard it make contact, thudding into the shoulder of the grizzled little man who’d been so sure of what I’d said. The man they’d called Charlie let out a grunt as the blade went in, and the woman next to him echoed with a sharp gasp that got the attention of several others.

  And then, somehow, I was through the throng and out the door. Now, I was in a larger room. It had a bit of furniture—two sofas and an overstuffed chair. People were sitting, drinking, smoking. A woman and a man had their lips locked. I didn’t stop to get a good look at any of it.

  The door on the opposite side of the room was open, a screen door beyond it. And, past that, darkness. Ignoring the shouts behind me, I bolted to the screen door, palming the handle that kept it latched and then crashing through the opening as the door slammed against the outside wall.

  I was glad to be out under the night sky—partly because I could hide if I needed to but also because it meant the Jed who’d hijacked me hadn’t been in control for too long. The last thing I remembered was being in my front room in Echo Park, a pencil in my hand and a scratchpad on the table in front of me. That might have been an hour ago, or it might have been three, but at least I was pretty sure it hadn’t been a whole day.

  I ducked between two cars parked at the curb and crouched down on the other side of one, peeking around its smooth fender to watch the house I’d just escaped from. Not two seconds later, Stony G came out the same door, the bloody knife back in her hand now.

  “Show yourself!” she shouted.

  I decided the invitation didn’t sound very hospitable, so I ducked back down and crept along behind the car that was sheltering me.

  “Rat!” she called out. “Go on! Hide in the bushes. I know you can hear me.”

  “Hey!” came a shout from across the street. “Can it, would you?”

  “I’ll can you, ya bastard!” Stony G shouted back into the night.

  I used the distraction to move one more car length away from the gambling den.

  From inside the house, I could hear sounds of distress, someone moaning loudly.

  “Will someone shut that halfwit’s trap?!” Stony yelled into the house.

  Be careful, Stony, I thought. Maybe Charlie’s not going to like the way you play.

  Turning her attention back to her lost quarry, she yelled, “Show your face around here again, and you’ll see how we handle rats.”

  Then I heard the screen door slam. I figured I was safe, Stony G satisfied that she’d warned me off for good. The way things had gone, she’d managed to keep her money—and whatever amount of mine my damnable double had opted to wager—but she’d had her authority questioned in front of her crew. This last was, no doubt, a greater affront than my getting away with her cash would have been.

  Still, she didn’t seem in a hurry to come bursting back out the screen door, so I was counting that as a win for Jed Strait. Any landing you can walk away from, as the flyboys used to say during the war.

  Not wanting to test my luck, I kept my head down as I worked my way past the cars at the curb, glad to feel my keys in my pants pocket. My hijacker hadn’t seen fit to let me leave the house armed, but at least he hadn’t wagered my car on one of his dice rolls.

  The night was warm, but the sky was cloudy, resulting in humidity that reminded me of the east coast. When I looked down at my wristwatch to see how late—or early—it was, there wasn’t enough light on the street to read the watch’s face.

  Halfway down the block, I spotted my car and headed toward it. Once I was inside, I found a fifth of bourbon—not a brand I’d ever bought—sitting on the passenger seat next to my fedora. With the car’s interior light on, I inspected the bottle, seeing about a quarter of it gone. I sighed and closed my eyes, asking myself if the other Jed had sabotaged my ability to drive. The car’s interior didn’t spin; I felt no impairment at all.

  “Small blessing,” I said and set the bottle on the hard surface of the road. Then I checked my watch again before closing the door and starting the car.

  Twelve-fifteen.

  How long ago had I been in my front room with the scratchpad? Three hours? More?

  The thought was disturbing. I had never been taken over for this length of time before.

  In the morning, I’d go to Guillermo’s and ask him what he thought. I could imagine him shaking his head and saying, “I think it’s getting worse, lobo.” Not something I wanted to hear.

  It started raining before I got to the end of the street, just a few drops at first, but I knew it was going to get heavier. This didn’t help things any, since I had no idea what part of the city I was in or how I was going to get back to Echo Park. Rain on the windshield and the slap of my wipers wasn’t going to make it any easier to get my bearings.

  Several minutes and several wrong turns later, I was able to make out a street sign in the dark—Central Avenue. That one was familiar, at least. Still disoriented from the dark, unfamiliar neighborhood I’d just been threading my way through, I couldn’t tell if I needed to turn left or right to put myself on the path to downtown. Sitting still at the intersection was going to do me no good, though, so I closed my eyes and imagined myself making the turn. When I opened them, I spun the wheel in the direction I’d just pictured and hoped for the best. It was at least fifteen minutes more before I caught sight of the tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles and knew my blind guess had been right.

  The summer storm started producing lightning as I worked my way toward Sunset Boulevard, the electric charges in the air interrupting the music on the radio with crackling pops that complemented the jagged arcs crisscrossing the sky. By the time I turned off of Sunset, the gutters were little rivers that ran the city’s dirt down to the drains and, eventually, out to sea.

  The streetlight near my little house illuminated the rain coming down in sheets as I approached my driveway. It also revealed a car parked at the curb, right where one shouldn’t have been. I gave it a look as I turned into the driveway and caught a silhouette in the front passenger seat. Moments later, I saw that the driver was on my front porch and recognized her as Detective O’Neal.

  I’d made no secret of approaching, so as soon as my car was off the street, the detective turned away from my door and watched as I got out of the Winslow and trotted to join her under the shelter of the porch. I was in the rain for only a few seconds, but it was enough to have me soaked by the time I got up the porch steps.

  “Detective,” I said, as though our late-night sheltering from the storm was as regular as a meeting in her downtown office.

  “I’m not here on official duty, Jed,” she said.

  “Nothing to do with Hennigar?”

  She shook her head, her lips a straight, grim line.

  “You got my hopes up,” I said. “It would be nice if this creep could be corralled before I have to go deal with him.”

 
“Sorry. You should just file an official report and let the department track him down.”

  I shook my head. “He said no cops. Talking to you has been as much of a risk as I’m willing to take when it’s Sherise in his crosshairs.”

  “Your choice,” she said, and I could see that she had something much more serious on her mind.

  “Do you want to come inside?” I asked.

  “I can’t. I have…someone waiting in the car, and…it’s been a long night. Look…” She took a deep breath and then went on. “I have a favor to ask of you. It’s kind of a big one. There was some trouble in Los Feliz tonight. Morgue jobs. I expect you’ll read about them in the paper in the morning.”

  Her hand went idly to her side, where I’d often seen a purse riding on her hip, cigarettes inside it. The purse must have been in the car, and her smokes with it. Looking a little frustrated, she went on.

  “There was a witness. He got away. And then there was another killing that happened when the witness reached out to the police for help.”

  She stared at me as she said this last bit, clearly checking to see if the implications had sunk in for me.

  They had.

  “You think someone on the force knows about the witness?”

  “Yes.”

  “And someone got killed because of it?”

  She nodded.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t want to say right now. Just…someone who didn’t need to die.”

  I nodded, letting the pieces fall into place as well as I could. The jigsaw puzzle had no picture on it. Not yet, anyway. And all the pieces were a bit round at the edges. Still, I could see what she was after.

  “You want me to sit on your witness until things cool down,” I said.

  She nodded, her expression still grim.

  “And you’re saying the cops already killed one person who got involved?”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “You’re going to have to come a little cleaner with me if you want me to sit on a moving target like that. How do I know there’s not a goon squad tailing you to my door right now?”