by Rick Polad
He just looked at me, took another slow puff, and let out a cloud.
“And how do you figure this is giving me some help?”
“That isn’t. But this might. Benny is only one of the pieces. Two more are dead. The latest is Harold Dejan.”
“So whadda I care about a Harold Dejan?”
“I have reason to believe he’s also a receivable.”
Joey glanced quickly at the milk-toast who nodded.
Looking back at me, Joey asked, “And why would you think that?”
I smiled. “Just a hunch. But I’m good at hunches.”
“And let’s say that’s true. So what?”
“So, people on your list are dying. I’m wondering why. Just thought you’d want to know.” Actually I didn’t think it had anything to do with Joey. The sign on my wall about coincidences isn’t written in stone. I was pretty sure this was an exception and that Joey’s involvement was just a coincidence, but I firmly believed in one of my other rules that was always true—it never hurts to shake the trees and see what falls out. The more trees you shake the better.
The milk-toast had gone back to being a statue. Joey stubbed out the cigarette. “Okay, you have my attention.”
“And I have another question. Is Gertrude Morgan a client?”
He stared at me and then looked at the milk-toast who shook his head once, which was when I knew that the milk-toast, besides being protection, was also the accounting department. And the exchange I just saw was why Joey was walking around in fancy suits instead of wearing stripes in a cell somewhere. He didn’t have any books—he had the milk-toast, who had all the books in his head. And he got a gun man for the same price. He looked like a milk-toast on the outside but I was guessing that was where it stopped.
“No, she is not. Why do you ask?”
“Because she’s dead too.”
Joey was not one to show emotion, despite his soft spot for kids and ice cream cones. He was all business. But he always paused before responding and always responded calmly. There was a thought process going on that no one else would ever know.
“Pardon my questioning your case, Manning, but for looking into missing kids you got a lotta bodies piling up.”
I nodded my agreement. “That’s what makes this job so fun. You open a door, you never know what you’re going to find.”
He nodded back. “I wish you’d find out soon. Dead clients are bad for business.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said as I stood up. “One more question.”
He gave me a look bordering on controlled anger. I knew I was wearing out my welcome, but he didn’t say no.
“Meant to ask you last time. The old password was upset. That seemed strange to me. I’d think you’d not be a fan of upsets.”
“Agreed,” he replied with a slight smile.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I got hooked on horses when I was a kid. I had an uncle who told me stories. My favorite was about the Sanford Stakes in 1919. It was the only race that Man o’ War lost. He was named by the wife of August Belmont, who the Belmont Stakes was named for, because August was overseas fighting in World War II.”
This was a side of Joey few had ever seen. He looked almost wistful.
“Back then there weren’t no starting gates, just a piece of webbed material that was raised. The horses would circle behind it and then line up. When it was raised, Man o’ War was still circling with his rump to the web. Even though he got a late start he only lost by a half length… to a nobody named Upset.” The smile had grown.
“Interesting. Do you bet on upsets?”
Now he grinned. “I’ve never bet on anything, Manning.”
My look of surprise made him laugh.
“I don’t like giving away money, Manning,” he said as the smile disappeared.
“I have another question. Why the hell do you have passwords?”
He shrugged. “Uncle Al had a password. Good enough for him… good enough for me.”
“Uncle Al? Al Capone?”
“There’s another Al?”
“He was your uncle?”
“No.”
I was going to ask the next question but his look said he didn’t want to hear it.
The milk-toast opened the door.
I turned back as Joey said, “Hey, Manning. I hope you find the kids.”
My nod ended our chat.
The moose handed me my gun and returned to his table in the corner.
I had no idea where the last half hour had left me, but it was always interesting talking to Joey. The insight into his other side gave me shivers. I had seen him buy the kid an ice cream cone, and I had just seen him slip back into his childhood. But I also knew he would break somebody’s legs without giving it any thought.
Compared to the dark office, the sunlight was blinding and I had to squint to check the list for Barbara’s address. A light breeze brought a wave of car exhaust.
Chapter 25
I listened to the Cubs as I drove west. The game with the Pirates was just going into extra innings. North of Lawrence, the homes on Kimball changed from multi-family to bungalows. Barbara’s was typical with red brick and decorative stone insets. The built-out attic overhung the front porch where a large picture window looked out on the small, grassy front yard. The house was narrow and long, with little space between the houses on either side. Some of Chicago’s bungalows were built just after the turn of the last century, but this one looked newer. If it wasn’t, it was certainly well kept. I rang the doorbell and waited.
After a minute I rang the bell again. A few seconds later I caught a flutter of drapes at the corner of the picture window. I tried one more time and was ready to give up when the door opened a crack.
I could only see part of a woman’s face. She tentatively said, “Yes?”
“I’m looking for Barbara Reid.”
“Yes?” She was hesitant.
Not exactly the answer I was expecting. I assumed I had found her. “If you’re Barbara, I have a few questions.”
“And who are you?”
I held out my card. She didn’t take it, or look at it. “Spencer Manning. I’m trying to find a missing boy who worked at Riverview and would just like a few minutes…”
“We were all told not to talk to you. Please leave,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Who told you not to talk to me?” I already knew the answer.
“You need to leave, Mr. Manning.”
As she started to close the door, I gave it one last try. “It won’t hurt just to answer a few questions, Miss Reid.”
“It would hurt. They’re watching. You’ve been here too long already.” Before she closed the door I dropped my card inside. A few seconds later she closed the drapes.
Glancing up and down the street I saw no one. She was paranoid but her paranoia was real, even though the surveillance wasn’t, and she was afraid inside her own house. A knot in my stomach told me I was doing something I didn’t really want to do. That was one of the bad parts about my job. As I walked down the steps, I thought about Harold. He was one of the all Barbara had referred to, but instead of opening the door and telling me that, he had stared at me with eyes that no longer saw what they were looking at. Why was he dead and Barbara still here to open the door? Maybe he was just first on the list. And maybe she wasn’t wrong to be paranoid.
***
I pulled into Stosh’s drive a little after five. He wasn’t home yet, so I used my key to let myself in and turned on the game. The Pirates had scored and taken a four to three lead after eleven and a half. Larry Bowa led off the Cubs half of the eleventh with a single. Two outs later I saw Stosh pull into the drive. I knew he had the game on. He closed his door as Ryne Sandberg lined a fast ball into the left field bleachers just inside the foul pole. I would have waited in the car. He had heard me yell.
“What the hell did I miss?”
“Sandberg line drive homer to left.”
&nb
sp; “He’s the best. This is the year, Spencer. I can just feel it. Time for a World’s Series pennant on the north side.”
I laughed. “I recall you feelin’ it several times before.”
“But not like now. If they don’t make it this year it’ll be a hundred before they do.”
I laughed. “That’ll never happen.”
“Yeah, well we’ll see. You hungry?”
“Sure, how about Italian?”
“Good by me. I’ll change and wash up.”
We talked baseball and weather on the way to Mama Abella’s and were seated at our usual table in a back corner.
Luigi brought a bottle of dry red wine and asked if we wanted the usual lasagna. We did. We were in a rut—a very nice rut.
After a sip, Stosh asked if I had made any progress.
“Not much.”
“If you haven’t discovered any more bodies, I’d call that progress.”
I ignored that and told him about Barbara.
“Sure is something going on to scare her that much.”
I agreed. “Anything on your end?”
He took a deep breath and shook his head. “So far the lab has nothing on the pipes but a lot of smudged prints. They’re about half done. I’ve got personnel walking the park, and we’ve talked to a whole lot of people who know nothing.”
“You’re not going to find anything on the pipes.”
“No shit.”
“But you have to look anyway.”
He just stared at me with a frown.
“Lots of wasted time.”
He agreed. “Part of the job. We have to cross all the Ts.”
“And whatever it was could have been tossed in the river.”
“Thanks. I never would have thought of that. We have divers going in tomorrow.”
Figuring I had pissed him off enough, I said, “This sure can’t be just coincidences.”
He nodded. “I’d still feel much better if you’d go up to Door County and spend some time with Aunt Rose.”
“It’s tempting. Been too long since my last trip. Have you heard about the meeting at the park tonight?”
“Nope. How did you hear about it?”
“Harvey. He got an invitation to attend.”
“What’s it about?”
“No clue. We’re having breakfast again in the morning. I’ll let you know.”
“And you don’t think you’re putting him in jeopardy with all these meetings?”
“Don’t see how anyone would know about them.”
“And you’re staying away from the park?”
I hesitated.
He looked disappointed. “Spencer.” He shook his head slowly. “I agree with shaking the trees once in a while but you’ve done enough. When were you there?”
I told him about my quick visit with Harvey to find out about who showed up for work.
“And how do you know nobody saw you?”
“Baseball cap and sunglasses. And I was in and out. I saw Walters’ stooge, Mooney, but he didn’t see me.”
“You sure? You’re taking a chance. Stay away from there.”
“I’ll try.”
“Jesus.”
The food came and we ate in silence for a few minutes, listening to the strolling violin player.
As Luigi refilled the wine glasses, I said, “I did find out something about Benny.” He kept chewing. “He told Harvey a few weeks ago that he was going to be free.”
“From what?”
“Don’t know. Harvey couldn’t remember what they were talking about.”
He finished the last bite of lasagna and wiped the plate with bread dipped in oil. “Well, whatever it was, he sure is free now.”
***
Back at the house, Stosh put on a Count Basie record and I set up the card table for gin. I was ahead by almost three bucks when the phone rang a little after ten. He listened and then closed his eyes.
“Be there in fifteen,” he said.
“Watcha got?” I asked.
“Broken window.”
“I’m on a hot streak. You’ve gotta go for a broken window?”
“Yup, and so do you. Your hot streak is over.”
Tossing down the cards, I asked, “Why do I have to go?”
“Because it’s your window. Close your mouth.”
“The one with my name on it?”
“Don’t know, but if I was going to send you a message, that’d be the one I’d shoot at.”
“Who reported it?”
“A concerned citizen.”
I rode with him in his unmarked cruiser. The concerned citizen turned out to be Carol, and she was standing in front of the window talking to an officer when we pulled up. The officer introduced her and she started from the beginning.
A little before ten she had heard what she thought was a car backfiring, but then there were several more bangs and she thought it was strange. She looked out and saw my shattered window and called the police. She hadn’t seen the car. Two officers had been talking to neighbors who had all heard the shots but hadn’t seen the car either. We spent a little more time waiting for the board-up company.
On the way back to my car, Stosh said, “So both our points are probably valid.”
“And those are?”
“None of these are coincidences, and you should head north and spend some time with Aunt Rose.”
“Well, I agree with the first.”
“I think you should agree with the second.”
“I know, and I appreciate it, but you don’t really think I will, do you?”
“Doesn’t hurt to try. Three people are dead and you’ve been sent a pretty clear message. This isn’t a game, Spencer.”
“Agreed.”
“They’re trying to scare you.”
He turned into the drive and stopped next to my Mustang.
“They’re just pissing me off.” I thought about Barbara. “These guys are just bullies.”
“Bullies who are killing people. I’d pay attention.”
“And run away?”
“Nope, but I’d be careful.”
I agreed that they had my attention and assured Stosh that I could take care of myself and would be careful.
He nodded slowly. “You’re pretty good at it, but you don’t have eyes in the back of your head, and whoever is doing this isn’t likely to play fair and challenge you to a duel. They’re just going to put a bullet in your back.”
“I don’t have a death wish, Stosh. Quite the opposite. And I have friends in high places.”
He got out and leaned on the roof for a few seconds before saying goodnight.
Chapter 26
Harvey was sitting across from our usual booth, sipping coffee and reading the paper.
“Morning, Manning. I don’t see your name in the paper so you must be behaving yourself.”
“I always do, but I tend to get involved with people who don’t.” I told him about the window.
He shook his head. “Pretty clear warning… and yet here you are.”
“Hey, I wouldn’t want you to have to pay for your own breakfast.”
The waitress brought the coffee and we ordered.
“So what was the meeting all about?” I asked.
He laughed. “Just Walters explaining what was going on around the park… at least their version of it. He warned us again not to talk with anyone, especially you. We’re supposed to refer anyone asking questions to him and tell him if we see you. You’re not on the top of his guest list.”
“I’ll try not to take it personally. Was Meyers there?”
“Yup. She didn’t say a word, but she was paying close attention to the crowd. I felt like she was taking attendance and making mental notes.”
“Do you feel unsafe?”
He smiled. “I’m not worried. Walters is just a bully and bullies don’t scare me.”
“Three people are dead, Harvey. Somebody helped them get that way.”
He took
a deep breath. “Well, we all gotta go sometime.”
The food arrived and I started on the eggs.
“You still thinking about having me arrested?”
I finished a bite of toast. “If you were arrested Walters would be able to threaten your employment unless you cooperated with him.”
“Cooperated how?”
“That’s what I’d like to find out. It sure looks like people are being hired who have something that would look bad on a resumé.” I got the waitress’s attention and asked for some Tabasco.
As he ate his pancakes, Harvey said, “I’ve been thinking about it too. I kind of set a goal of never seeing the inside of a jail cell.”
“You wouldn’t have to. We’d work it out.”
“I hope so—I don’t look good in stripes.” He smiled. “Where would I be arrested?”
“At the park. It would have to be obvious. If Walters didn’t actually see it, word would get around pretty fast.”
He sipped his coffee and sat back in the booth. “Still wondering… arrested for what?”
I took a drink of coffee and set the cup down carefully before answering. “Well, how about murder?”
He looked shocked and I didn’t blame him.
He opened his eyes wide and said, “I guess if I have to ruin my record I might as well do it right. When is this going to happen?”
“Don’t know yet. How about breakfast again on Saturday?”
He shrugged. “Okay. See you Saturday, same time, same place. Thanks for the grub.”
He walked out while I paid the bill. I didn’t want another broken window, but the pot needed some more stirring.
***
I was in the office when Samantha came in the back door and stopped, her eyes wide with amazement.
“What the hell happened?”
“A little run in with a few bullets.”
She set her purse down and stared at the plywood. “Oh my God, Spencer. What does this mean?”
“It means I got someone’s attention.”
“My friends just send cards.”
The phone rang as I was trying to think of a comeback. Realizing I had a secretary, I walked into my office.
