Watch Your Back

by Sherilyn Decter

  “Times are changing, eh Henry? Not the wild streets any more. There we won every argument with a fist or a knife.”

  “Ya gotta be adaptable. Speaking of which, you heard from Nucky yet?” Mickey asks.

  “About the big conference in Atlantic City? You know, I haven’t. You would think he woulda called by now, wouldn’t ya? You know, that’s something else you can ask Max about. He and Nucky are tight. I hear all the biggest outfits are going to be there. You should be there, for sure.”

  Mickey nods. “If they invite Hoff and not me… Capone says that you’re either at the table or on the menu.”

  “Hassel knows everybody. Works with everybody. Get him to talk to Nucky. Make sure you’re on the list.”

  “Good thought. There’s all kinds of upsides having Max onboard, ain’t there?”

  “You know, Mickey, you’re the King of the Bootleggers around Philly ‘cause you could always out-think the competition. Look at the way you got one over on the Fishman, back when we were kids. Whew, did he stink. Now that was something.”

  Mickey laughs, and the two continue to chew on past adventures all the way to Reading.

  Chapter 57

  I t takes a couple of hours and a few bad roads to get to Reading. Henry uses the time to flesh out the rough contract that they might use if Max agrees to the partnership. It’s boiler plate stuff. If Mickey can get Max to sign it, he can turn it over to the lawyers to work on tomorrow morning.

  By the time Mickey, Eddie, and Henry roll into town, the streets are empty. The brewery is dark except for a light on in Max’s office window. Before they had left Philadelphia, Henry had called Max to let him know they were coming to see him about a bad shipment of beer they had gotten. He’d said that he would wait.

  The front door of the brewery is unlocked in anticipation of their arrival, and Mickey and the others climb the stairs to the office. Mickey pauses, and then kicks open the door to Max’s office. Max is standing behind his desk, hands open in front of him.

  He gives a shaky laugh. “That must have really been a bad batch.”

  “Sit down, Max. Not behind the desk. Over here where I can see your hands.”

  Max complies.

  “A little bird told me that you were having some trouble with the Grand Jury, Max. And now, not so much.” Mickey snaps his fingers in the air.

  Max thinks for a few moments, caught off guard with the question.

  “That’s true. They were looking into my businesses, but a few palms greased and it all went away. You must have done the same. Your name hasn’t been in the newspapers. Did it cost you much?”

  “Were you looking for it? My name in a headline?”

  “Sure.” Max shrugs. “They’re hauling everyone in for questioning. Poor Boo-Boo seems to be taking the brunt of it, but we’ve all been questioned by Monaghan.”

  “You’re a lucky son-of-a-gun, Hassel. Given your history, I would have thought that they’d be particularly interested in you. With that record, you would do some serious jail time if convicted.”

  Max looks slowly from Mickey to Henry and back to Mickey. Eddie is standing behind Max, making his shoulders twitch. “What’s the real reason you’re here, Mickey?”

  Mickey chuckles. “Ya got balls, I’ll say that for ya, Max. First ya break in to my office, steal my books, and then give them to the cops. And then to brazen it out. Not too many would dare.”

  Henry watches Max’s face. He can see denial flicker across, and then calculation.

  “Ya gotta do what ya gotta do, Mickey. And I know that you got the resources to skate around this.”

  “Perhaps. When I first heard that you was the one that stole from me and caused all that trouble, I gotta tell ya, Max, I was going to kill ya. And not in a quick, painless way.” Mickey gives Max a wild, predatory grin.

  Max goes pale. “I’m glad you changed your mind, Mickey.”

  “Did I? Maybe I did. The way I look at it, it wouldn’t matter how long it took for you to die, you’d still be dead. Maybe there was a better revenge, something that might last a bit longer than your sorry life.”

  “Look, Mickey. You woulda done the same thing. I was in a jam. I didn’t have too many options.”

  “You know, I figured that. And you’re kinda in the same place right now, aren’t ya? In a jam with not too many options. But I keep hearing what a great negotiator you are, so I gotta proposition for ya. You owe me big time. And I figure you’ll want to make us square, being properly motivated and all.”

  Max hasn’t taken his eyes off Mickey. “Sure thing. I’m not going to deny anything. How can I make it up to you?”

  “The way I see it, you gave the cops a lot of valuable information about me. There isn’t any lasting damage. I can fix it all: transfer a title here, transfer some money there, tuck some cash into a bit of property, and the trail grows cold. But while I’m spending my time doing that, I’m losing a lot of business. All that moving stuff around to protect it from the cops takes time, and time is money.”

  Max sits silently, looking at Mickey. Mickey has that hungry look a cat gives a mouse, right before he bites his head off.

  “I know that you’re a fair man, Max. We’ve done business together for years. And I have great respect for your business ability. So much so that I want to make you my partner in this here brewery, and the other one you own in Reading.”

  “My partner? In the two breweries? Why would I do that, Mickey?”

  “Because otherwise I’ll blow your brains all over the wall right there.”

  Max shudders, glancing at the wall behind him, and then locks eyes back on Mickey.

  “And that’s after I get you to sign over the deed and business transfer paperwork. You got that paperwork, Henry?”

  Henry taps his breast pocket. “Right here, Boss. Ready and waiting.”

  “For me, it’s all neat and tidy. Either way I get the two breweries, but my partnership offer is less messy than option number two. Less to clean up afterwards. So, what’ll it be Max? Partners? Or do I get Eddie here to start filling a bucket of hot water for washing up.”

  Max is tense, and sits silently.

  “Come on, Max. It shouldn’t be that hard a decision. A long and successful partnership with yours truly, or a short, messy death. You pick.”

  Max gives a shaky laugh. “How can I say no to such a generous offer, Mickey? Partners it is.”

  “Henry, you got that paperwork?”

  Henry pulls out the partnership agreement they’d drafted in the car on the way up. “It’s rough,” he says. “It basically says that you agree to a business partnership with Mickey. The lawyers will send round a more polished version in the next couple of days. This’ll do tonight to make sure nobody changes their mind.”

  He hands the papers to Mickey, who grabs a pen off of Max’s desk. “Sign, Hassel.”

  Max scribbles his signature at the bottom of the document. True to form, he also takes a few moments to read through the agreement. “This is a 60-40 split, not 50-50. It means you get to make all the decisions and get a bigger share of the money.”

  “Tough to be equal partners with a guy you don’t trust. 60-40 makes me more comfortable. You got a problem with that?”

  “No, just clarifying. And you spelled some stuff wrong,” he says, correcting the legal names of the two breweries. He hands the paperwork back to Mickey, who hands it to Henry.

  “Now, let me show you to the door. I’d like to spend a few moments alone in my brewery.” Mickey springs up, shoving Max to the floor. He grabs his lapels and hauls him up, spinning him around and shoving him out the office door and down the stairs. Max bounces off walls, stumbling down the stairs, grabbing hold of the banister to regain his footing.

  Henry and Eddie follow behind. Eddie hurries to open the front door to the brewery. Mickey pushes Max through the door, where he staggers and falls to his knees on the street. He turns as Mickey slams the door, driving the deadbolt home.

 
; “Come on, boys. I’ve worked up a thirst. Let’s see if our new partner has any of that good whiskey left.”

  Chapter 58

  M aggie has left her office door slightly ajar so she can hear when Joe arrives. Ron will be there to greet him, of course. She glances at the clock on the corner of her desk. She still has twenty minutes. She straightens the papers, then pauses and reconsiders. Maybe there should be more papers so he can see how busy I am? She lays a few more papers and files on her desk, and puts a pencil across one stack. She gets up to come round and look at the desk from the other side, as Joe will see it. She adjusts the pencil. Yes, much better.

  Joe had called and made an appointment to see her. An appointment? Does he have news? Is it about the Phantom Informant? About those newsboys? He would have invited me to meet him at the precinct if it were that kind of meeting. Maybe he needs an accountant? On a policeman’s salary, even a detective’s? No, something else then.

  Maggie glances around the room. My office. I never would have imagined this day. The desk. Two visitors’ chairs. A file cabinet with a plant on it. A coat rack in the corner, next to the door. Her certificate from Drexel University hangs on the wall—by program rather than degree, but she’s working on it.

  She hears the general office door open and Joe’s voice. Should I go to greet him? Moments later, Ron knocks on her door and pushes it open. “Detective Kelly’s in the front office. He has an appointment. Would you like me to show him in?”

  Suddenly, Joe is filling the door frame. “Joe, come in. Come in. Please, sit.”

  A desk between them. Maggie enjoys the feeling of power. You let me down, Joe Kelly. You let Tommy down. Are we still friends?

  Maggie clasps her hands on her desk. “What brings you here, Joe?” Joe, who had been glancing around the room, turns back to face her.

  “Very nice, Maggie. You’ll have to get one of those name plates for your desk. Look at us, eh? Me a detective. You an accountant. Sitting in our offices. A long way from your living room the day I answered your ad for a lodger.”

  “A long time ago.” Awkward silence. Joe gets up and closes the door and returns to his seat.

  “Maggie, I feel that I’ve let you down, that I should have done more to help Tommy. You maybe heard that Captain Beckman’s been arraigned on corruption charges? And Chief Elliott’s still in hospital. Things are a bit upside down at the precinct these days. A bit… rudderless. But still no excuse when a friend asks for help.”

  “Does that mean that you are going to arrest Dutch?”

  “I wish I could say that. But no.”

  Maggie lets out the breath she’s been holding in a frustrated sigh. “Then why are you here, Joe? We could have had a cup of coffee at my house, or met at the police station. Why are you here today?” Maggie sits stiffly, hands clenched. Why are you here with your pretty words but no action?

  “Amends.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are aware of the Grand Jury that District Attorney Monaghan is leading, investigating racketeering in Philadelphia.”

  “Yes, of course. All of Philadelphia, probably most of America, is aware of the Grand Jury.”

  “We have been collecting information on behalf of the Grand Jury so that they can investigate and possibly bring indictments against several gangsters, including Mickey Duffy.”

  Maggie sits back in her chair. “You’re going to indict Mickey?”

  “Actually, no. We’re not. It seems our case isn’t strong enough.”

  Maggie thinks about Mickey’s missing financial records, and the raid at the house that Edith had mentioned. “I’m surprised, Joe. I would have thought that he would be an obvious target.”

  “Yes, well, others wouldn’t necessarily agree.”

  The pieces fall into place. Once more, Mickey is going to walk. It is like the murder of poor Oskar Leszek five years ago. “I see.”

  “Monaghan has acquired a considerable number of Duffy’s financial records from his clubs, his bootlegging operations, his hotels, and other business interests. He’s not going to return them just yet, but is not using them currently. I’ve been told to put them in the evidence locker. I thought that they might have a bit of a detour, and I’ve brought them here. Perhaps you might be able to put them to better use than we did.”

  Joe is letting me look through evidence?

  “Are you sure, Joe? Won’t someone miss them?”

  “Hardly. We’re so short staffed right now that we can’t keep up with the cases we’re pursuing. The job isn’t what it was, Maggie. They won’t know, and I doubt whether they’d even care.” Joe shakes his head, a wry frown on his face. “I’ll leave a note in ‘evidence’ that I have the files and, if on the off chance somebody does go looking, they’ll come to me first.”

  Amazed at the good fortune almost within reach, Maggie collects her thoughts. “I mean really sure no one will miss them, Joe. Isn’t that evidence tampering?”

  “It’s evidence we gathered to put Duffy away. It won’t do a bit of good sitting in an old box in a damp basement back at the precinct.” Joe glances over his shoulder at the closed door. “Somebody paid somebody to make it go away. I think that somebody who knows what to do with it should find it.”

  “What happens if Mickey finds out that I have it?”

  “Only you and me know, Maggie. And I’m not telling.”

  Maggie waits, torn between Joe crossing the line and the treasure trove that lies on the other side.

  Joe glances behind him, studying the file cabinet. “It locks?”

  Wide-eyed, Maggie nods.

  “And you’ll keep your door locked? And I shouldn’t have to repeat that it’s important not to tell anyone, okay? Not even that fellow you have out front. This is just between you and me.”

  Maggie nods again.

  “This is entirely off-the-record. But I figured that, with your interest in Duffy’s activities, you might find them interesting. Perhaps even more interesting than the DA did.”

  The Inspector is going to be beside himself when he learns.

  “I don’t know what to say, Joe.”

  “As I said, Maggie. Amends. I could bring them upstairs after hours later today. I’d rather that no one knew of their being here. And I’d come collect them again in a couple of weeks. Let’s say the first week of January. It’s not likely that they’ll be missed, and if I need them I know where to find them.” Joe looks at her, searching her face for understanding.

  “Yes. Tonight would be fine. I could meet you here after supper. Say around seven?”

  Joe lets out his breath. “Yes, well, that’s it then. I’ll see you tonight. At seven.” Standing, he reaches across the desk to shake her hand. “Thank you for being discrete, Maggie. Look after them for me.”

  “You can count on me, Joe. Thank you for the opportunity.” Amends indeed.

  * * * *

  With morning sun streaming into her office, Maggie stands, hands on hips, and surveys the treasure trove stacked on her desk. Sitting on top of a couple of boxes are the journals and ledgers stolen from Mickey’s office. She assumes that the financial records seized in the raids on his businesses are in the boxes. Each of the boxes is labeled ‘Police Evidence’ with details written on the attached sticker, which is not discrete. She moves the boxes so that they are on the floor and facing the wall, their origin obscured.

  “Ron? I need another filing cabinet for my office. I have a client that has left his financial records with me while I do up his year end, and I don’t have enough room in the file cabinet I already have. Do we have one that isn’t being used? That locks?”

  Chapter 59

  M ickey, good to his word, let him down gently and sent him home. Maggie is pleased to see Tommy adapting to a new routine for Saturdays, spending it with his grandfather. Maggie is hopeful that her son and her father can establish some kind of rapport. Her father hasn’t been looking as well as before, and Maggie can feel the sand in the hourglass dr
aining away.

  Christmas comes and goes. For the first time in years, Maggie celebrates it with her mother and father at her childhood home—an unsettling experience for Maggie: too many ghosts and none of them the right ghost, but Tommy is thrilled. Grandmother and grandfather were especially generous. The table groaned with food at dinner. Afterwards, everyone but Father bundled up and went from house to house with a band of carollers. A day of mixed emotions; their first Christmas together, and perhaps their last.