The Woman In Blue (Nick O'Brien Case Files)

by David G. Johnson

  “I hear ya, Ace. But you be careful just the same. If you go sniffin’ around Lupo, you better be packing a roscoe and a lot of help. From the buzz around here, he ain’t exactly the cooperatin’ type.”

  I drop a bill on the table to cover my tab, leave a little something extra for the waiter, give Liam a quick hug, and head for the door. Too late tonight to make the rounds, but tomorrow I’ll have to check on that auction house and the jewelry story. The last place I want to find myself heading is in Lupo’s direction, but if it follows the rest of my life story, that’s where I’ll end up sure as death and taxes.

  (Uptown Manhattan, NYC, the next morning)

  McMannis & Flint is a bust. McMannis is in, but that uppity Scot says he never heard of DeLanz. Even when I lean in with heat, and let him know I know he is connected, he sings the same tune. This snobby little braggart doesn’t seem the kind to hide, so there isn’t a lot of reason to not believe him. Besides that, I don’t see much in that auction house that one or two guys could have handled anyway. Seems mostly like big furniture, big paintings, big vases, something that’d take a crew to lift. Sure, he could’ve had more stuff stashed someplace, but McMannis seems like the type who’d love you to know all about who he knows. Whatever DeLanz is into, it isn’t at McMannis & Flint.

  Next stop is Galitz Jewelry Exchange. I don’t know how they do any business at all. I seen Kraut soldiers with worse camouflage than this place. Wouldn’t know it was a jeweler’s at all if it wasn’t for that tiny sign above the entry.

  A little bell perched on a frame attached to the top of the door jingles as I head inside. An old, mostly bald guy with a schnozzle big enough to hide an apple in is standing behind a glass-cased counter. He’s got a beard, but is not dressed like one of the Hasidic diamond hawkers. I figure maybe a Russkie immigrant that found a sweet spot to land working for the families.

  The geezer looks suspicious as I walk in. There is a twitchiness about him, as if a potential customer is about as welcome as swarm of flies at Sunday dinner. On the other hand, maybe he’s made me as a cop and isn’t anxious to answer any questions. Nervous and harmless; just my kind of suspect.

  “H-how may I help you?” His Russian accent is unmistakable.

  “You Galitz?” He nods slowly. “I got a friend says you are the person to see about buying some, uh, newly acquired jewelry.”

  I lay my finger aside my nose and give it a shove to the side, the universal street sign that we are talking family business. Grandpa ain’t buying what I’m selling.

  “I-I’m not sure what you mean. We do buy jewelry, so if you would show me the piece you have, I could take a look.”

  A door behind him opens up and out swings what must be Mrs. Galitz. Looks like she was a fine-looking filly in her day, but she’s got more than a few miles on her now. Golden blonde hair with just the tiniest touch of silver here and there. A regal nose and thin face gives her a stern but elegant old-world beauty. Still, she looks like she must have been a child-bride. Nice navy dress with the hem a little high, showing off a decent pair of gams. That doozy of a hat with the lacy black veil gives her that classy look. She’s puffing on a smoke-stick out of one of those fancy-pants metal holders. I wouldn’t have put these two together in a million years.

  “You said you were referred to us by whom, Mr…?” she asks in flawless English, sounding closer to a schoolmarm than a Russkie merchant.

  “O’Brien, Nick O’Brien, and I didn’t say. Fact is I’m not looking to sell any shinys but looking for someone who might have. No doubt you know him. Tommy DeLanz. He’s done a few jobs for our mutual friends, and he mostly works in sparkly things.”

  The two glance at each other as if trying to read each other’s mind. Old man Galitz looks as if he wouldn’t know which leg to put in his pants first if she didn’t tell him, so it is clear who is the brains of this outfit. Finally, she answers.

  “I am afraid we have not seen Tommy in quite some time. He brought in a few things before, quality pieces, but I heard that he retired. I am sorry, Mr. O’Brien, but we cannot help you. If I see Tommy, I will be sure to tell him you are looking for him. Do you have a card?”

  Foxy, very foxy. She’s checking my credentials.

  “Yeah, here you go.”

  So let’s see the look when she sees Private I on my card...

  Very smooth, didn’t bat even one of those long eyelashes. Maybe they really ain’t seen Tommy.

  “So tell me, Mrs. Galitz…”

  “Arella, please. We friends need not be so formal.”

  Hmm, nice touch.

  She knows, or at least suspects, that I’m not really connected, but she’s playin’ it icy anyway. I like this dame. She’s got style.

  “Yes, Arella, if someone was doing a little family business and had some sparkles to unload quick, is there any place else they might go?” I can see the wheels turning. She’s figuring my angle, and how much to play along with it.

  “Not that I know of. You see, we pride ourselves on keeping our minds on our work and not outside of it, which gives us a unique position. We stay out of family business, and thus we can do business with all the families.”

  “Aah, a real Switzerland then. Good policy. One I try to abide by myself.”

  “I am sure you do. Is there anything else we can help you with, detective?”

  There it is, the conversation ender, the big kiss-off.

  “No, thank you Mrs. Galitz, uh, I mean Arella. If you hear from Tommy, or from anyone who has, let me know. He’s not on the outs, he just has people worried about him.” I tip my hat to Mom and Pop Galitz and head out of the store.

  Well, two shops and two blanks. One never heard of Tommy, and one ain’t seen him since the last entry in his jacket. How did I know I was going to wind up with no live leads but this Lupo character? Can I call ‘em, or can I call ‘em? Well I ain’t going in blind, that’s for sure. Time to drop in on my big brother and see what kind of head’s up I can get on Lupo before I just show up with a dozen roses and ask him to dance.

  (District Attorney’s office, Manhattan, NYC)

  I walk into my brother’s suite in the DA’s office. It is alive with paper-pushers, assistants, and clerks scurrying about like ants at a picnic. I see Jimmy through the open door to his private office in the back, going over some papers with a scrawny youth whose glasses are nearly the size of his head.

  “Hiya, Jimmy. How’s the putting-creeps-behind-bars business going?”

  Jimmy shoots me a weary grin.

  “Three steps forward, two steps back, you know, Nicky. What brings you here?”

  “Seeing my big brother ain’t enough reason to drop by?”

  That line earns me an out-loud laugh.

  “Heh, Nicky, you’re my brother and I love you. You know that, but if you ever dropped by just to see me, I tell you I’d faint dead away.”

  I remove my hat and toss it on Jimmy’s desk.

  “Everybody’s a cynic. Why, somebody following me around might get the impression that I ain’t really the warm, loveable character that I am.”

  That bit draws a wry grin from my brother. He knows me as well as anyone, and a people person I ain’t.

  “So really, Nicky,” he smirks, “what gives?”

  “Well, Jimmy, I was wondering if you could get some of your paper jockeys to see if there’s any local jacket on a Boston heavy, name of Danny Lupo.” Jimmy’s expression changes faster than a showgirl between acts.

  “I don’t need anyone to go looking for Lupo’s file. I have it right here on my desk. The DA has been all over my backside about finding out what this trigger-man is doing in New York. He handed it to me because I know you and you know the street scene as well as any cop in the city. He even okayed me to hire you to consult on getting the scoop on what Lupo is up to, but after looking at his jacket, Nicky, I don’t want you anywhere near this guy. He’s big-time bad news.”

  “Yeah, I heard the same scoop from Lee. Well, I got wor
se news, Jimmy. I’d like to stay away, but don’t look like that is in the cards. Although, I wouldn’t mind if the New York DA’s office is interested in letting me double dip on this one, since I got to go sticking my head in the lion’s mouth anyway, might as well get paid for it. This character is the last thread to pull on toward unraveling this Tommy DeLanz thing. I struck out at all his usual associates and his most likely fences. All I got was word from Lee that this Boston hitter was in town, and my client, Miss Dillon, just happens to be down from Boston too.”

  Jimmy frowns at me. I know that look. It is the look of a big brother catching his little brother doing something he is going to get blamed for.

  “Well I’ll hire you as a consultant, if I can’t change your mind. As for Lupo though, that connection is paper thin even for you, Nicky.”

  He dispatches the bespectacled assistant to fetch the necessary forms to get me paid.

  “Don’t I know it, but it’s this or nothing. I got nowhere else to turn. So what’s the skinny on Lupo? He wanted here for anything?”

  “Not currently, in New York anyway.” Jimmy peruses the folder in front of him. “He’s been hauled in before, but nobody’s been able to turn up enough to prosecute the case.”

  “No evidence and they were hauling him in anyway? I thought your boss was more careful than that, especially with connected guys.”

  “Yeah, well it wasn’t lack of evidence, it was that our evidence suddenly became non-evidence, you know, witnesses having a sudden memory loss or deciding to take an extended vacation out of town, reports disappearing, things like that.”

  “Ahh, I see. So somebody capable of bringing some serious heat wants this Lupo up and walking around then. I see why Lee warned me to give this guy a wide berth. What’s so special about him?”

  “He’s been implicated in at least half a dozen hits here in New York, though that was a number of years ago. Most recently in Boston the DA there likes him for at least eighteen mob-related hits. Unfortunately, Boston has been less diligent and less successful than us in getting anything to stick on Lupo. He worked for Charles Solomon up until January when Solomon was killed. Now word is he works for one of Solomon’s lieutenants, Hyman Abrams. After Solomon’s death, Abrams took half of Solomon’s holdings, with the other half going to Joe Linsey.”

  “So anybody like Lupo for helping to retire Solomon?”

  “Nah, they got two shooters, Coyne and Burke, on that one, but the DA isn’t sure he can make the charges stick. Whoever sent those two after Solomon was heavily connected too. Lupo just looks like a button man Abrams inherited with his part of Solomon’s business. The DA here, though, is wondering what Lupo is doing in town. Seems a few weeks ago Abrams filed a police report about some missing diamonds stolen from a safe in his home.”

  “The mob calling the coppers? Now ain’t that a new tune?”

  “Yeah, it is. Supposedly, Abrams had the diamonds insured, so the police report was necessary for the insurance to pay off. The fear is that Abrams may have a line on who took the diamonds and has sent Lupo to get them back.”

  “Ah, seems like I may not be the only one looking for a double dip. I guess you boys figure if Lupo can snag the stones and hush up the heister, Abrams collects the insurance money, then black-markets the diamonds anyway. Pretty smooth if that’s what’s happening.”

  “That’s the way the DA figures it, but Lupo was in town the day after the stones went missing, so if that’s why he’s here, Abrams found out who was behind it pretty quick to get his goon here the next day. Thing is, Lupo is still here, so he may be having trouble tracking down who did it. If you go poking around Lupo, you might set him on a scent he didn’t have before.”

  “Possible. If Tommy is as much a ghost to Lupo as he has been to me, not sure it is going to hurt anything to poke around. I’ll watch my P’s and Q’s with Lupo, but unless some other lead drops out of the sky, I got nowhere else to go.”

  “Okay, Nicky.” Jimmy passes me a sheet his office flunky just brought him. “Keep your Lupo-related hours logged on this form and keep me in the loop on what you come up with. When you’ve found out what you can, bring this back to me and we will get your fee.”

  “Got it. We’ve been down this road before, Jimmy. I know the drill.” He frowns and grabs my arm.

  “I know, Nicky, but it won’t do you much good if you aren’t alive to spend it.”

  I take the form and fold it before putting it in my coat pocket. Grabbing my hat, I head for the door.

  “Yeah, yeah.” I smile back at Jimmy, showing way more confidence than I actually feel. “I’ll make sure that keep breathing stays near the top of my to-do list. Thanks for the boost, Jimmy. I’ll let you know what turns up.”

  “Nicky,” Jimmy calls after me. I stick my head back in the doorway.

  “Yeah, Jimmy?”

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m always careful.” This draws a laugh.

  “I think you are confusing careful and lucky.”

  “I’m always lucky.”

  I flash a parting smile. No matter how hard I pretend, I know Jimmy has good reason to worry. One misstep around a killer like Lupo and Jimmy will be writing my eulogy. I hope he reminds everyone how handsome I was.

  Chapter Five – Family Problems

  (Little Italy, Manhattan, NYC)

  Vincent DeLuca slipped away from the restaurant table he was sharing with Skinny Charlie Ferrano and a couple of Scalice’s other boys. The place served as an impromptu office for Scalice’s men when they weren’t engaged in some task or other. Vinny dropped into the cubby at the back of the restaurant that held a public phone, dialed a number, and waited for an answer.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Vinny. Listen, we made the nab attempt on Tommy’s old acquaintance from Boston, but a pack o’ squids tumblin’ out of a speak-easy gummed up the works… Yeah, I know we needed to nab her, but it didn’t happen… We’ll look for another chance to give it a go. In the meantime, you might need to know, apparently she’s taken up with some local private-eye… Not sure if he is security or what, but word is he’s been pokin’ around asking about DeLanz… Yeah, well that’s well and good, but if this shamus starts snoopin’ too much about Tommy, you know where that trail leads; straight back to you… You know I’ll do what needs to be done, but this skirt friend of Tommy’s and her nosy pal are likely to stir up trouble for all of us, so I just called to let you know things might get sticky… Okay, I’ll call you again once I got somethin’ more to say.”

  DeLuca hung up the phone and shook his head as he sidled back to the table to finish his lunch.

  Frank Scalice paced nervously across the floor of the apartment he held as his headquarters in Little Italy. It was filled with bare-bones furnishings including a weathered desk and chair, a few mostly empty bookshelves, a leather three-seat sofa, chaise lounge and reading chair which had once been part of a matching set of high end furniture, but now looked like their best days were a distant memory. A weather-beaten hutch housing several bottles of illegal booze behind a locked cupboard door was made of wood at least three shades lighter than any of the rest of the furniture. This was not meant to be a place of style or a place of comfort; it was a place of business. And right now business was on the rocks.

  Carlo Capricci, who everyone called “CC”, Scalice’s main lieutenant and right hand man, had just arrived and watched his boss silently pacing. CC knew it was only the calm before the storm.

  “CC what is going on? Is every man I hire an ignorant, incompetent cafone who cannot get the job done? Is it any wonder why that stronzo coglione Luciano took the family away from me and gave it to Mangano? This gets any worse, I’m gonna have to put a hit on myself to put me out of this misery. Vinny missed the girl, and now I hear there’s this private gumshoe nosing around looking for Tommy DeLanz. Could this get any worse?”

  After giving a moment’s pause to insure Scalice was actually waiting for a response, Carlo replied, “Seems to me, bos
s, if this skirt wasn’t hidin’ nothin’, she wouldn’t need any private protection. Sure as shootin’ Tommy tipped the skinny to her somehow, and now that Tommy’s in the wind, she’s lookin’ for what she’s gotta know he has. I’ll tell the boys they need to give nabbin’ her another go. Let me put the squeeze on, and we’ll know soon enough how much she knows.”

  “They already snagged it up once. They better not miss again.”

  “So, Frank, what if that detective makes a nuisance of hisself? You want they should grab him too?”

  “Nah, he ain’t no use to us. If that snoop sticks his nose into our business when the boys make the next grab at the dame, then fill him full of lead. I ain’t taking chances.”

  “Just so’s you know, boss, word is this Mick flatfoot is heavy with the DA’s office. Givin’ him a case of lead poisoning might turn the heat up higher than you’re lookin’ for right now.”

  For a moment, Scalice’s face turned beet red and Capricci thought he might have said one sentence too many. CC could see the wheels turning in Frank’s head, trying to decide whether to scream or shoot. Carlo was hoping for the former but had his hand ready to grab his own gun if it came to him or Frank. After a long moment of silent fuming, Scalice regained his tentative grip on his composure and resume speaking.

  “You listen to me, CC, I say when the heat is too much around here, you get me?”

  “Yeah, Frank, I get you.”

  “Five minutes after my funeral, you can call the shots if you want to, but while I’m still breathing we do it my way. You have Vinny grab one or two more of the guys, and not those low-rent cafoni that can’t seem to figure out which end of a fork to eat with. Have him grab some guys with some street smarts to watch the girl and the snoop. Find out who they are talking to, and what they are up to, and look for the right chance to grab her. If they start getting too close to anything that ties to me, forget the waiting and just put them both in the ground. You got me?”