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

by David G. Johnson

  “Ok, doll, if you say so. No need to get your dander up. You hired me to do my best to find Tommy, but sometimes that means I have to ask some tough questions. You understand.”

  She nods and smiles at me. There’s that sweet side again. This kid bounces between fear and fawning like a yo-yo. I’d hoped to make heads or tails of where I stand with her this morning, but it looks like that ain’t on the menu.

  We finish our breakfast in a silence punctuated only by brief intermissions of small talk. As soon as breakfast is over, I stand to leave and Marjorie throws her arms around me and plants one on the kisser that curls my toes. She is without a doubt the most dizzying dame it has ever been my misfortune to get tangled up with, but man-oh-man, how I hope this all sorts itself out. A girl like Marjorie comes along once, maybe twice in a guy’s life, and here’s to hoping she sticks around.

  As I wipe the ruby-red lipstick off my mouth on my way out, I tip my fedora to the speechless maître d’ and revel in the enjoyment of my barely-suppressed smirk.

  “Might want to close that pie-hole, Mac. You’ll end up catching a fly or two if you don’t.”

  I walk away to the pleasant sound of an indignant harrumph from the uppity host and fight with all my being the temptation to look back over my shoulder to see if Marjorie is watching me walk away.

  Chapter Seven – Boston Heavy

  I find myself back in my office being busy about nothing. I’m drilling over and over in my head this morning’s breakfast with Marjorie, and I catch myself humming that song from the Cotton Club last night. I’m not sure if the boys who wrote that one ought to be given an award or a blindfold, cigarette, and a brick wall to stand in front of.

  Ah, it ain’t the song, Nick, and you know it.

  I’m just galled that I can’t noodle my way through Miss Marjorie Dillon and get at whatever she ain’t telling me. Well I may not have rattled it out of her, but with meetings planned for Gabriella Rosario and Danny Lupo today, I will have my fill of chances to shake things up or get shook up before the day is through. A knock at the door snaps me out of my reverie.

  I’ve got to get an assistant. This answering my own door just ain’t professional.

  Of course, I have to be able to afford to pay an assistant first. I pull open the door to my office and find Jimmy standing there with a scowl on that mug that says he ain’t here to talk about old times.

  “Hiya, Jimmy. Come on in. What brings you to my neck of the woods on this bright and beautiful Friday afternoon?”

  I’m not kidding either. The storm clouds have finally broken this morning and the sun made its first appearance in a week.

  “Hello, Nicky. You make any progress on that Lupo character yet? My boss is on me three kinds of sideways. It seems they are starting to take your lady-friend’s missing person report a little more seriously. With Lupo in town, they are on the lookout for people turning up dead…or not turning up at all.”

  “Yeah, Jimmy, I found out he’s holed up at the Lexington. Probably not any surprise to you since he hasn’t exactly made a secret out of it. He’s my second stop planned for today, but some things Marjorie said stirred up the idea of a few more questions for Tommy’s ex-girlfriend, Miss Rosario, before I go shaking Lupo’s tree.”

  “Well, it’s your lucky day. The DA has pulled the rest of my cases and wants me to work this DeLanz and Lupo angle until Tommy turns up or Lupo leaves New York.”

  “That’s just perfect, Jimmy. Lee says meeting with Lupo alone ain’t the smartest play, so at least with the two of us we’ve got a little edge.” I pull out my keys and unlock my top desk drawer, handing my stowaway Walther PPK to Jimmy. “Here, big brother, it’s best if you carry a little insurance.”

  He holds up his hands and waves off the pistol.

  “Oh, no, Nicky. You know I don’t carry guns. The law is my weapon. You were always the shooter, not me.”

  Yeah, right. Since we were kids Jimmy has always been the better shot, and he knows it.

  “Yeah, well humor me. Stick this in your coat pocket and carry it around for me. Lord willing it won’t see daylight, but I’d rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it. If this Lupo is half as dangerous as you and Liam seem to think, and if talking to him turns ugly, I’ll feel a lot better knowing I’m not the only one of us holding a convincer.”

  He reluctantly slips the compact pistol into his coat with a look as if I had asked him to smuggle a dead rat. Still, I know Jimmy can shoot. Dad made sure of that before either of us hit double-digits, but Jimmy always preferred talking to fighting. Guess that’s why he wound up a lawyer and I wound up flying around the skies over France.

  “Thanks, Jimmy. Don’t worry, I’m not looking for trouble. This is a talking expedition, so we are going by the Bowery first to lean a little harder on Miss Rosario. If we are lucky, she will be feeling more talkative than last time and she’ll spill something useful. If we catch that break, we may not have to rattle Lupo’s cage at all.”

  “I can’t say I’d be sad with that result, Nicky. But no matter what, you know I’ve got your back.”

  “Heh. Yeah, the O’Brien brothers, scourge of the city.”

  I just hope all turns out smooth. If we do wind up at Lupo’s place, all the wishing in the world won’t change that loose cannon. Whatever’s going to be will be. Lord help us all.”

  As we make our way through the streets of the Bowery between the subway station and Miss Rosario’s home, Jimmy is gawking around like somebody who just blew in from the farm. He shakes his head.

  “Man, this place has really gone to the dogs, hasn’t it?”

  “Don’t get down this way much, eh, big brother? Yeah, if there’s a rotten core to the Big Apple, this would be it.”

  I wave off a few panhandlers and we push on toward the rowhouses that include the residence of Gabriella Rosario. There in front of her place is the new Buick with my birthday license plates.

  “Wow, Nicky, that’s a pretty nice ride for this neighborhood. Where’d she get the money for that?”

  “An excellent question. If Tommy had something to do with those missing Boston diamonds, with his ex-girlfriend might have been an excellent place to stash them.”

  “So you think she knows where DeLanz might be?”

  “She says nix, but she’s hiding something. Got real antsy every time I asked about the car. You’ll see for yourself and draw your own conclusions.”

  We arrive at the door and give it a not-too-gentle pounding. She’s learned from our last encounter as she peeks out the curtains from the little window near the door and shouts at us through the glass.

  “Go away, detective. I got nothing else to say to you. I told you I don’t know where Tommy is.”

  “Well we got a few more questions for you, Miss Rosario. This upstanding gentleman with me is with the district attorney’s office, so like it or not you had best open that door before we have to call the boys in blue to come open it for you.”

  “We can’t forcibly enter without a warrant, Nicky,” Jimmy whispers to me. “You know that.”

  “Yeah, but she don’t know we ain’t already got one. Besides, my way is faster. Just trust me.”

  As if on cue the door opens and Gabriella Rosario stands there glowering at us. Maybe she thinks if she stares at us hard enough we will vanish.

  Not today.

  I step into the house and Jimmy follows after a reluctant pause. Gabriella closes the door and follows us into the living room. As we turn we see her standing there with a defiant pose, left hand on her hip, extending a scolding right index finger at us like she is correcting a misbehaving puppy who has just soiled the rug.

  “So now what? You going to arrest me for having bad taste in men and having a scumbag ex-boyfriend? I told you, Tommy was bad news and I haven’t seen him. Believe me, I would help you if I could if for no other reason than to get you to stop drawing so much attention to my house.”

  Doesn’t like too much attenti
on, eh?

  “Oh, so you like to keep things under cover, then, eh Miss Rosario?”

  The eyes; it’s always the eyes.

  “I just don’t like people thinking I’m some snitch for the cops or something. Guys walking heavy and wearing trenchcoats showing up at my door don’t exactly make me welcome to the neighbors.”

  I give her a look that says I can smell the fish in her story from across the room as Jimmy takes over. Pulling out his pocket notebook and pencil, he gives her a reassuring smile. Good cop, bad cop, only with a lawyer and a gumshoe.

  Yeah, that’ll work.

  “Pardon me, Miss Rosario, but I have a few questions. I realize these may be questions you have answered before, but I would be very grateful for your time, and we can be done here very quickly.”

  Smooth, big brother.

  “At least someone has some manners.” She says, eyes strafing me like a burst from a Chicago typewriter.

  “Very well, Miss Rosario. I understand that previously you were romantically involved with Tommy DeLanz?”

  “Yes, but that was a long time ago.”

  “And when was the last time you saw Mr. DeLanz?”

  “Two years ago. As I told that private goon there.” She blasts me with another chilling look. Clearly, she is responding better to Jimmy’s banter than mine. “Tommy showed up with a gun one day. That was the last straw. I knew he had been in with some bad people, but I told him I will not have a gun in my house after what happened to my father. He told me if that was the way I wanted it, fine. He left and I haven’t seen him since.”

  “Hmm, I see.”

  That’s Jimmy’s code for I don’t believe a word you just said. He’s done that, Hmm, I see thing since we were kids. Good to know he thinks her story has got a few details left out as well.

  “And what do you do for a living, Miss Rosario?”

  The eyes.

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  Jimmy flashes a half-patronizing, half-calming smile.

  “It’s just for my records, Miss Rosario. The DA is a stickler for details. So where do you work?”

  After a pregnant pause in which she clearly is weighing the cost of answering, she responds.

  “If you must know, I am a Minsky’s dancer at the Republic Theater.”

  Wow, no wonder she wasn’t looking to advertise that.

  With the reputation the Minsky brothers have, that’s not exactly something you want to pin on a bulletin board. That might go a long way to explaining the fancy jalopy outside too. Some of those Minsky’s broads pull down a pretty good living. Jimmy, nonplussed as always, continues.

  “I see. And is it your work at the Republic which provided you with the funds for the new vehicle outside?”

  There goes the friendly helpfulness.

  “That’s none of your business! The car has nothing to do with Tommy. So if that is all you have to do, poking into my private life to get your kicks, then you can just…”

  She breaks off into a string of Spanish that makes me glad I learned French instead. Still, a few words are close enough for me to pick up that she isn’t going to be inviting us for Christmas dinner this year. Jimmy tries to salvage the situation.

  “All right, Miss Rosario, calm down. No one is accusing you of anything. We are just trying to rule out all possibilities of where Mr. DeLanz may be. You have been very helpful and we are sorry to have taken so much of your time. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to give me a call.”

  With that, he hands her a business card. Gabrielle glances at the card before tossing it across the room and continuing her string of very excited Spanish. She seems a little preoccupied with our parentage and some creative things we can do with our spare time and random body parts to notice Jimmy and I share the same last name. We show ourselves to the door and her verbal tirade escorts us on our way. Our ears are still ringing as we head up the street toward the subway stop.

  “Well, that went well. I should let you do the talking more often, Jimmy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, wise guy. Anyway, she is excessively emotional about that car. I think there is something more to it. Maybe she does know where Tommy is, or maybe she had more to do with his disappearing than she is saying. I’m going to put a few people on digging deeper into this one.”

  “Eh, it’s your time and your dime, Jimmy, but I don’t like her for this one. She gets real antsy about the car, but she’s cool as a cucumber about Tommy. She’s definitely hiding something, but my gut tells me it’s got nothing to do with Tommy.”

  “We’ll see. You’ve been wrong before, little brother.”

  “Really? I can’t recall that. Unless you mean being overly hopeful we would get something useful out of Gabriella. I suppose there’s nothing for it now but to head to the Lexington and see how cooperative Lupo feels like being.”

  “I get the feeling Lupo won’t be as impressed with my ADA credentials. I might want to let you do the talking on that one.”

  “Probably for the best. I just want you to keep your hands in your pockets. This Lupo has a reputation for violence, so I’d feel better if you have that heater handy in case he decides I’d make a swell human pretzel.”

  “I don’t know,” Jimmy flashes a rare, sarcastic smile. “That might be something to see,”

  “Now who’s the wise guy?”

  The Lexington isn’t a bad joint as hotels go. Not the New Yorker or the Waldorf, but still a snazzier hole-in-the-wall than I could ever afford to stay in. Jimmy’s DA buzzer might not win any points with Lupo, but it does wonders at gaining cooperation from hotel clerks.

  “I’m ADA O’Brien. You have a guest here, Danny Lupo. What room is he in?”

  The twitchy youth looks around like he’s a kid about to make for the cookie jar, but in the end his desire not to get rousted by the authorities wins out over his respect for guests’ privacy.

  “Uh, he’s in 1213. That’s on the twelfth floor.”

  Thanks kid, we’d have never figured that one out.

  A nod is all he gets as we turn and head for the elevators. Maybe if we are lucky, Lupo won’t be in and we can go catch a late lunch and call it an afternoon. As we exit the elevator and head toward the room, those hopes are dashed as we can hear through the door a booming baritone voice.

  “Yeah, I know…Look, you sent me here to fix things, and I’m tellin’ you they are as fixed as they’re gonna get…It’s all set. I got one more meetin’ tomorrow to iron out some things. Then I’ll be headin’ back…Of course. If they turn up I’ll let you know, but in the meantime get off my case. You want things handled right. That’s why you sent me. If you don’t trust me to take care of things, then find somebody else next time. I hate this cesspool of a city anyway, so I’d just as soon stay in Boston…I’ll see you when I see you. Goodbye.”

  We give the door a rap, which is answered by that same voice, sounding even more annoyed, if that is possible.

  “Whadda you want?”

  “Danny Lupo, my name is Nick O’Brien and I have an urgent matter to discuss that is in both our interests.”

  The door flies open and there is Lupo in casual slacks but with only a muscle shirt covering his overly hairy chest. As he eyes me and Jimmy suspiciously, he growls his answer.

  “What in blazes do you two clowns have to talk about that you think I’d wanna hear?”

  “We got a few questions about Tommy DeLanz. Maybe we should step inside.”

  “Tommy? What about him?”

  He makes no effort to clear the doorway.

  Guess we are doing this in the hallway.

  “Well his sister is quite concerned. We understand that you may have bumped into him in Boston and were wondering if you might know where he could be reached.”

  Lupo’s already pug-ugly face twists into an even more grotesque mask, sporting a look as if he just noticed the sewer had backed up into the room.

  “You guys cops? I hate cops.” His lar
ge ham hands ball into fists as he awaits an answer.

  “No, we are not cops. I work for Tommy’s sister and am helping her find him. This is my associate.”

  If he hates cops, I’m sure he would really be cheesed if he found out what Jimmy did for a living.

  “Ah, private cops. Stink just as much but ain’t even good enough to make the cutoff. I don’t think we got nothin’ to talk about, Dick Tracy. You and your associate buzz off, and if you show your faces at my door again, I’m gonna rearrange ‘em for you.”

  Well, anyone sane would realize it’s time to go. However, I ain’t ever been accused of an abundance of sanity, and I ain’t leaving with no more than he’s given up so far. I hope Jimmy’s got that heater ready. This could be the part where the whole thing goes all pear-shaped.

  “Now you listen to me, Lupo. I know you’re a big time heavy for the Beantown boys, but you’re in my city now, and you ain’t the only one with a reputation. Word is your boss has some diamonds missing. Next thing, you turn up in town and DeLanz goes missing too. You beginning to see how these pieces fit together? And it don’t paint too flattering a picture for you.”

  He laughs out loud, as though I had just told a joke rather than threatened to try and pin him for murder.

  “You think you can make it stick, then call the boys in blue. You couldn’t pin that thin line on me with a hammer and a bucket of nails and you know it. Besides, my boss ain’t worried about those stones. Once the insurance pays off, he’s jake with the whole thing. Yeah, Tommy disappeared about the same time the rocks did, and his partner too. So what? If you can pin something on me, get to it, otherwise stop stinkin’ up my doorway.”

  Lupo slams the door in our faces. As we amble back toward the elevator, Jimmy smiles.

  “Well, at least I didn’t have to shoot anyone. Here’s your Walther back, Nicky.”