Watch Your Back

by Sherilyn Decter

  Edith slips a hand into her handbag and pulls out a small flask, dumping the liquid into her coffee. “Just a bit of liquid courage, Mags. For medicinal purposes.”

  “I hope it’s just liquor. You’re not on anything else again, are you?”

  “No, it’s just a bit of Mickey’s brandy from the house. Golly, that was the scariest thing. I kept expecting Mickey to show up while I was taking out the money.”

  “Why did you do that? How much did you withdraw?”

  “One thousand clams. A grand. Not enough to be noticed. The same with the property deeds from the safety deposit box. They’re pieces we’ve had forever, that Mickey’s forgotten about. I hope. But I can sell them or maybe use them for collateral if I need a loan.”

  Maggie sits back, shocked. “What did you do that for? You’re not thinking of leaving Mickey again, are you?”

  Edith took a long swallow of her spiked coffee. “No, but things are bad. I’m afraid. There must be another gal. Mickey’s been a brute lately. Not just disinterested, but real mean.”

  “Oh Edith, I had no idea. You should have said something. I know how loyal you are to Mickey, but you don’t deserve that.”

  “Mags, life has taught me that you can’t count on someone’s loyalty. I helped Mickey get started in his business, and worked side-by-side with him all during those early years. Whatever he is today, is because of me. It’s sad, doll, but sometimes it’s the people you love the most that turn out to be the people you can trust the least.”

  “Aw, sweetie.”

  “I’m going to do the same thing at a couple of other banks. I’m building a little nest egg. Just in case. I’ve also sold some of my jewellery that I don’t wear anymore. It’s my ‘get outta town’ stash.”

  “How did you know about all the bank accounts? It was you, wasn’t it? That stole Mickey’s books.”

  Edith sits back, her eyebrows making a beeline for her cute little hat. “Me? Not a chance. I only do stuff that he won’t notice. No, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I’ve been keeping a list in my little black book.”

  Maggie studies her friend. Perhaps you’re still acting? Maggie swallows her suspicions and holds Edith’s hand. “You’ll let me know if things get worse at home, won’t you. And my offer to move Tommy to the couch still stands.”

  “You are a doll. But Tommy won’t need to move downstairs. Poor kid. With all he’s been through, I won’t kick him out of his own bed. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure to say goodbye. If things don’t work out, you’ll be the last stop on my way outta town.”

  Edith drains her cup. “So, ready to do a bit more banking?”

  Chapter 17

  “Extra! Extra! Read all about it.

  Hoff Paid for Gang Guns.”

  “H ey kid, gimme one of them papers.” A barefoot youngster, about six, scurries over. Mickey tosses him a couple of coins and, wide-eyed, the urchin pockets his riches.

  Mickey scans the headlines. “That son of a—. I knew it. Those bastard Bailey’s weren’t acting on their own. Listen to this, Henry. It was Hoff after all, just like I said it was. He was the one who bought the guns for the Baileys on the drive-by at the Cadix last year. I knew they didn’t have it in ‘em to be acting on their own. You should have listened to me.” Mickey rolls the paper, slapping it against his hand. Swearing in Polish, he strides up and down the sidewalk in front of Henry.

  Henry glances around at the crowd on the sidewalk. He recognizes some of the warning signals that Mickey’s gonna lose it. Doing it in such a public place would be a bad idea.

  “Hey, Mickey, why don’t we head over to Jake’s place? Maybe shoot a bit of pool? I’m thirsty, and it would give you a chance to read more than the headlines.”

  Mickey slaps the rolled up newspaper against his leg. “That skurwysyn. That bastard. Now that I know, he’s gotta pay for what he did to John Bricker. I would have done it after the Cadix if I’d known for sure he was involved. I should have figured it out when the Baileys got picked up so soon after. Hoff musta ratted them out. The police aren’t usually so smart.” Mickey keeps slapping his leg with the paper.

  “Come on, Mick. Let’s go. It’s hot out here. How about a cold one inside? Jake’s is just around the corner.” Henry takes a few steps in that direction, hoping Mickey will follow.

  Mickey remains rooted to the spot. He’s unrolled the paper and has his nose buried in it.

  “Where’s Regan at?” Mickey barks, looking around. “Why’s he not here?”

  “You sent him on an errand, Boss. To Chicago. How about we pop into Jake’s and I can use their phone to call the Ritz. Somebody can pick us up at Jake’s and take ya wherever ya need to go.” Henry eyes Mickey’s shoulder holster nervously. He’s never drawn it while gripped by one of his rages; now would not be a good time to start.

  “Jake’s? Good idea. You can buy me a drink. Hoff’s a skurwysyn, a real bastard. Come on, Mercer.” Mickey, still cursing in Polish, strides toward Jake’s. Relieved, Henry hurries after him.

  Once settled in the dark speakeasy, whiskey in front of Mickey, he settles down and keeps reading the paper. Henry phones the Ritz to arrange for a pick-up, and then slides into a chair. “Porter’s on his way.”

  Mickey nods without looking up from the newspaper. “That Hoff story isn’t the only thing interesting in the paper. From these stories, it looks like Chicago is heating up. A couple of spaghetti-eaters got plugged.” Mickey folds the paper and lays it on the table. “You remember that little favor that Capone did for me in Chicago?”

  “The hit on Tony Giordano? Yeah, I remember.”

  “It was nice and clean. No fuss. Still haven’t found the body. It’s always important to work with professionals, Henry. It can save you lots of grief.”

  Henry waits, curious about why Mickey would bring up the hit now; it had happened eighteen months ago.

  “From the looks of this,” he says, tapping the top of the newspaper, “Capone’s making a play for the North Side.”

  “Isn’t that Bugs Moran’s territory?”

  “Yeah. Since the hit on O’Banion five years ago, Capone’s knocked off every crime boss they’ve had. Moran’s just the latest target. Capone’s going to need allies. He was talking about Giordano the last time I was at his place in Miami. I figure my marker is going to be called.”

  “Do you know what he wants?”

  “Nope. But the Chicago situation bears watching. Capone is making a lot of waves and, with that much water, somebody’s feet are bound to get wet.”

  Chapter 18

  A fter the banking is finished, Edith and Maggie head their separate ways. Edith heads home to squirrel away her riches, and Maggie goes off in the direction of the precinct to check on news of possible charges against Dutch. She’s run out of patience with Joe.

  Once again, they put her in an interview room to wait.

  “Hello, Maggie. You’re here with news on the Remus case?”

  That the first question Joe asks is about his case, and not about Tommy, causes Maggie to grimace. She swallows her irritation, however, and leans forward to deliver a progress report.

  “We’re making some headway. It looks like Remus is up to more than just a bit of hijacking. He’s also manufacturing moonshine and selling it with his medicinal licences. He’s shipping it out through a tunnel system, so you’ll need to pull a search warrant.”

  “Tunnels again, eh? Like that time with the blue beer? At least it’s not a sewer. I don’t know how you and the Phantom do it. You always find the most incredible facts that help us build a case. I’ll get on this right away. And do you have information specifically about the hijacking?”

  “No, my partner has been involved in the manufacturing and legal permit side of the issue. We’ll get the hijacking information to you soon.”

  “Thanks, Maggie. I appreciate you both making this a priority.”

  “We’re glad to be of service, Joe. I hope you’ve made similar progres
s with Tommy’s attackers? I haven’t heard from you since you promised to look into it.”

  A slow flush spreads up the back of Joe’s neck and changes his expression. Maggie has seen that look on Tommy many times, and her toe begins to tap.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. We hauled Dutch down to the station for questioning, but haven’t made much progress. He’s not admitting to anything. I’m not sure that we’re going to be able to help any further.”

  Maggie sits back in her chair, her brows knitted. “I’m sorry, Joe, but I don’t understand. What do you mean? You only questioned Dutch? Tommy told you there were other boys involved. He will testify when you need him to.” In her distress, Maggie’s voice begins to rise, as does the color in her face. “He’s going to be well enough to go to school soon, and I can’t have those thugs roaming free to hurt him again.”

  Joe leans forward to take Maggie’s clenched hands. “I am so sorry, Maggie. I’ve let you down. I can’t get Captain Beckman to authorise any further effort on this case.”

  Maggie snatches her hands back and slams them down on the table as she half rises out of her chair. Flinty eyes glare at Joe. “You’re darn right you’ve let me down, and after everything we’ve done to help you and the police out. Now I need a bit of help and this is the consideration I get? Tommy was viciously attacked. What’s to stop them from doing it again?”

  The image of Tommy the night the stranger brought him home flashes through her mind. “What if they try and hurt him again? You promised me that you would help. I was counting on you to keep your word to lock those goons up for what they did to my boy,” she says, shouting.

  “Calm down, Maggie. We’re doing what we can.”

  “Calm down? Don’t you dare tell me to calm down, Joe Kelly. When I needed help I came to you, but you’ve been absolutely useless. I don’t understand it, Joe.” Maggie takes a breath, her eyes pleading with Joe. “It’s Tommy’s safety and wellbeing we’re talking about. Not ‘some case’. Those newsboys aren’t connected to anyone powerful. The police should be able to bring them in without offending the mucky-mucks.”

  “Whoa, Maggie. There’s nothing like that going on. Just an understaffed police force with too much on its plate. You have no idea what it’s like working here right now. Coppers, some of them good men, are being dragged in front of the Grand Jury. Everyone’s walking around looking over their shoulder, waiting for the next axe to fall. A couple of newsboys aren’t our first concern.”

  “I’m extremely disappointed to hear you say that, Joe.” Maggie pushes back her chair and stands, looking down at him. “Tommy’s safety and those newsboys are my first concern and, because they are, I thought they would be yours as well. But I guess I was wrong. What’s happened to you? I thought that you were a better man than this.” Her back rigid, Maggie sweeps from the room.

  * * * *

  “And then he said that they didn’t have the resources to look into it.” Maggie is still fuming, as she has been through dinner. “That it wasn’t a priority.” She paces stiffly back and forth in front of Frank, her jaw clenched.

  “He’s betrayed the trust I had in him, and he’s putting Tommy at risk, letting those hooligans wander the streets without repercussions.”

  “I’m disappointed in him, as well, Maggie. I expect that the Grand Jury has cut a fairly wide swath through the precinct, but still. That doesn’t sound like Joe at all.”

  Maggie turns to face Frank, her hands on her hips, a belligerent thrust to her chin. “He’s not the Joe we used to know. It was foolish of me to expect that he’d be able to help. He’s changed in the last few years. Maybe he’s gone soft sitting behind a desk too long, or maybe the apathy in the police force has affected him. Heck, for all I know, somebody’s paying him to look the other way like all the rest of those crooked cops.”

  “Maggie, please sit. Let’s not jump to conclusions. I’m sure that whatever Joe is dealing with is only temporary. And I seriously doubt he’s on the take. You have a history together. He won’t turn away from that lightly.”

  “You mean like my father did?” she shoots back as she flounces down into her chair.

  “Maggie, I know how important trust is to you, and I’ve also seen what happens when you feel that trust’s been betrayed. You’ve denied your father the chance to make amends; please don’t go down that road with Joe. Won’t you give him a second chance?”

  The silence stretches. Maggie’s face is grim. There would be no quarter for Joe.

  Frank sighs. “How was your dinner with the Duffy’s last night? Did you pick up anything interesting?”

  Maggie takes a breath, pushing thoughts of Joe’s behavior from her mind. “Actually, something strange did happen. Someone broke into the accountant’s office and stole some of Mickey’s books.”

  “Really? That is strange. Who do you think took them? And why?”

  “Mickey says it was Boo-Boo Hoff. The feud they have going has really escalated since the shooting in front of the Cadix. And with the Bailey testimony this morning, at the Grand Jury, tying him into it, it does make sense.”

  “But why? What would another bootlegger have to gain by taking Mickey’s books? Is he wanting to take Mickey’s bootlegging crown?” Frank asks.

  “If he wanted to take over Mickey’s businesses, he wouldn’t need documentation. No, it’s something else. Mickey says Hoff want’s leverage to buy his way out of the jam he’s in with the Grand Jury.”

  “That makes more sense. There’s not a lot of love lost between those two.”

  “Perhaps, but I did have a thought, an alternate theory. It’s a bit crazy, but what about Edith?” Maggie says.

  “Edith? I’m not sure I follow.”

  “She’s desperate to know how much money Mickey has. Maybe she wants to leave him; things are always tense between them. And she’s been saying they that they are arguing a lot lately. More than before. Or maybe she wants to buy a house.”

  “A house? I’m still not following.”

  “She wants Mickey to buy this house out in Overbrook. He says no, they can’t afford it. But that’s not all. We were at a couple of different banks this morning and she was making many small withdrawals and raiding the safety deposit boxes for jewellery and property deeds. She says she might want it for security on a loan. I wouldn’t put it past her to do a bit of snooping. She doesn’t know exactly what Mickey’s got in her name, or how much money she might have access to.”

  “Sounds like a long shot, but possible I suppose. I wish we had a chance to look at those books. It would tell us a lot about the inside workings of Mickey’s bootleg and gambling enterprises, and it would be very helpful building a case against him for tax fraud. I can’t imagine he’s paying Uncle Sam on his illegal earnings.” Frank looks hard at Maggie. “You didn’t take them by any chance?”

  Maggie laughs. “Why, yes, I did Inspector. I snuck out while everyone was sleeping and committed a bit of larceny. Hang on and I’ll just get them.”

  The expectant look on Frank’s face makes her laugh harder. “Really, Inspector. Removing your police badge from a museum display was one thing—not even stealing, because it belonged to you. But I’m hardly about to go sneaking into Mickey’s office to steal ledgers.”

  “I know. But a man can indulge in a bit of wishful thinking, can’t he? All that information would be gold when trying to prove illegal income that Mickey hasn’t paid taxes on.”

  “You mean like they’re doing to Al Capone in Chicago? I agree. I think that Dick mentioned something about Capone at dinner the other night. I should follow up with him, again.”

  Chapter 19

  “Extra! Extra! Read all about it.

  Captain Beckman suspended. Grand Jury brands him as unfit to serve.”

  T he newsboys on the corner hawk the early morning edition of the papers. Frank, outside Remus’ hotel, scans the front page of a newspaper that’s being read by an eager customer. The story is continued onto page fo
ur but, by the time Frank moves around to read over the man’s shoulder, he’s folded it away.

  Dick’s probably got one at home. Imagine, Beckman—I remember when he was working so closely with Colonel Butler. I guess he got caught up in all the easy money and easy decisions of a corrupt police force. I hope Joe hasn’t been led astray like his captain. That really would be the ultimate betrayal for Maggie.

  Frank gets a better look at the newsboy hawking the papers. He fits the description of Dutch. With that broken nose, it looks like Tommy got in a few licks of his own. Frank moves in closer. I might do a bit of snooping myself, seeing as Joe isn’t.

  * * * *

  Reg hurries around the front of the car to open Maggie’s door. He helps her out, and then the two of them help Tommy from the back seat of the car. Maggie’s carrying his school bag and lunch. Tommy shrugs them off. The bruises have almost faded, but his arm is still in a sling. He tends to flinch at loud noises, but otherwise the doctor has decided he’s now fit enough to attend school. He’s only missed the first week, and Archie has been very conscientious about stopping by his school to pick up any missed assignments.