The Holy City Hustle: A Duke Dempsey Mystery

by Ron Plante Jr

  “Because we want the same thing. It just took me a while to figure it out. Isn’t that why you left the note on my desk to meet you here? You must have come to the same conclusion.”

  “I don’t know why I left the note on your desk. Maybe I wanted to draw you out,” Duke said, starting to gain his swagger back. He had a hunch that Slate was playing by his own rules, and once Johnny had mentioned the file, he’d had to take a look for himself. The file dated back to Duke’s administrative hearing, and it seemed like Slate was doing his investigation into the incident and the events that had followed his dismissal. Duke had taken a chance and rolled the dice by leaving that note, and it looked like his gut had come up sevens.

  “We can talk about it in your office. You can’t do anything if you’re behind bars, and at this point, we are all we’ve got,” Slate said and threw the keys at Duke, who caught them effortlessly. “I saw your Roadster zoom past me as I came here. Thought you were the one driving, but I guess the mystery man boosted your ride.”

  “If Bertucci’s got ears in your station you might want to keep Derflinger’s death hush-hush. I was the one supposed to die. Maybe we should keep it that way,” Duke said as he sauntered over to the bookcase.

  “I think I’m picking up what you’re putting down.”

  Duke grabbed The 1917 Sox book off the shelf. “Souvenir.” He walked back over to the body, and immediately took off his beige slacks and placed them on the body of the commissioner with the bloody jacket that he’d used on Johnny. He grabbed a pair of pants from the closet of one of the spare rooms. “With his face looking like hamburger, I don’t think anyone can ID the body. I’d say get Mickey from the coroner’s office down here and get him in on it. It won’t be a stretch to get him to do me a favor.”

  “Got it. Now get out of here.”

  Chapter 25 – A Boat to Catch

  Duke sat at his desk staring at the bottle of Evan Williams and empty rocks glass, contemplating the events of the day. He’d thought he had all the answers, and in one misstep he’d lost his edge and his mentor in one big cluster. A year ago and Duke would have had nowhere else to turn, and no shoulder to lean on except Evan or maybe Doc down the street. He knew what he needed to clear his head and give him a little reassurance his life wasn’t one big debacle. He picked up the phone.

  “Yeah operator, Savannah 2120.”

  “Hello?” an inquisitive female voice asked.

  The voice on the other end was heaven to Duke’s ears. He knew he should’ve called her earlier, but when he was in a case his mind only worked one way. Now he needed her to get him back in the game. “Hey baby, it’s me.”

  “I was so worried about you. Why haven’t you called me? I should hang up right now.”

  “No, Mary, please. Don’t,” Duke said with hurt in his voice.

  “What’s wrong? I can tell something is wrong. Are you ok?” Mary asked, very worried about the tone she heard in Duke’s voice.

  “Yeah, doll, I’m doing ok. Just got to break some bad news to you, that’s all.”

  “I’m a big girl. What is it?” Mary said, wondering what kind of news could make a man like Duke Dempsey sound like a kid who’d had his lunch money stolen.

  “It’s Johnny. He’s dead.”

  Mary instantly sat down, almost ripping the phone off the table. Her heart sank at the thought of Johnny’s passing but most of all her heart sank at how it must have affected Duke. At that moment she wanted to break down and cry, but she needed to be strong, not for her, but Duke. “What happened to him?” she asked somberly.

  “He got himself caught up in a racket. A racket he tried to get himself out by paying with his life,” Duke said as he tried to light a cigarette with his Zippo.

  “How are you doing? You need me to come back to Charleston? Because I can be there by tomorrow,” Mary said, praying Duke would say yes.

  “Nah, I can’t have you do that, because things are way too messy right now. I’m still not quite sure how to clean it up just yet, but I’m working on it,” Duke said as he continued to flick his light with no success. “I need to know you’re safe, because you are all I’ve got left.”

  Mary’s deep blue eyes started to well up, but she kept her composure. “Are you in this racket that killed Johnny?”

  “Knee deep,” Duke said with a weak laugh.

  “I don’t like the sound of that, Duke. You said before you weren’t sure how deep this went before. Johnny was the only one looking after your back. Who can you trust now?”

  Duke tossed his Zippo to the side and opened his top drawer, looking for something to help him light his smoke. He found the box of matches Leo Scagnetti had given him at Francis Marion Park and lit his cigarette as he studied the box. “What did you just say?”

  “Who can you trust now? How deep does the racket go?” Mary asked.

  “Mary, I’m going to have to let you go, something just came up,” Duke said as he finally took a long drag and smiled.

  “Duke Dempsey! I swear, if you leave me in the dark, I’m going to...”

  He cut Mary off before she could finish her sentence. “Sorry, doll, but I’ve got a boat to catch,” Duke said, as he stared at the ticket to the Shemara in his desk drawer with the other evidence he’d acquired.

  Chapter 26- The Plan

  “Captain Slate is here,” Margo said as she peeked her head into Duke’s office.

  “Thanks, Margo. Give me five, then let him in,” Duke said as he looked in the mirror on his far wall. Duke had combed in a healthy amount of Murray’s Pomade into his jet-black hair and was trying to get his mojo back after the long afternoon. He was clean-shaven and looking like he had it all together. “Perceptions are everything in this business,” he whispered to himself.

  In this case, he might be on the right track. Things were starting to finally fall into place, and despite the chaos at the cottage, Duke knew he had one more shot. He grabbed his black coat off the rack and put it on. It was a look he hadn’t sported since he’d been a detective on the force. When Duke had gone to work in the private sector, he’d lost the dark G-Man look for lighter attire more indicative of the Charleston scenery. With his beige suit down for the count, Duke dusted off the old classic, and was pleasantly surprised at the look.

  Duke grabbed two rocks glasses and his bottle of bourbon out of the bottom drawer. He poured himself a double and downed it entirely as Captain Slate made his way into the office. “How did things shake out at the cottage?”

  “We’re good for now. Mickey was on board, and pronounced Duke Dempsey dead about an hour ago. Any birdies downtown should be singing their tunes right about now,” Slate said as he sat down opposite Duke at the desk.

  Duke poured himself and the Captain a round. “I know we’ve got a rocky past, and there’s a lot of stuff we need to iron out, but what we have in front of us takes precedence. I say we keep our focus on the prize and we can hash out the history over some victory cigars. Agreed?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I? What do you have so far?”

  One thing Duke knew about Slate was that he was always right to the point and liked things black and white. He still wasn’t sure which sideline Slate was on, but he could’ve whacked Duke at the cottage if he’d wanted him dead. Duke couldn’t do this on his own and he had no choice but to trust him for now. “Mayor Swanson takes one to the back of the head, and by all accounts, Charleston PD played a role in the assassination. Whether it was arranging the hit or just pulling security, there was a level of involvement there.” Duke went right to the jugular to see what Slate's reaction would be.

  “You’ll get no argument from me. I’ve been investigating some dirty cops for a while, but wasn’t sure if it was a ring or just some individual players. At this point, we can assume it’s a ring, and it is bigger than I thought. Commissioner Derflinger, Officer Jackson, and God knows who else. Mickey and my secretary seem like the only two that are on the up and up.”

  “Not only cops, but lo
oks like City Hall has been tainted as well. Leo Scagnetti seems to have been involved and he was in the mayor’s inner circle. Derflinger had a visit with him a day before he was found full of holes, and I assume our visitor has been the one doing the cleanup job around town. Now he’s got the ledger and is looking to get out of town.”

  “I’m sure he’s three states away by now and making a break up to Chicago. Unfortunately, that town has been under siege since Capone got put away. Every family with a vowel at the end of their name is playing the ultimate game of king of the hill. If he’s working for Bertucci, then my money is that he’s up there somewhere,” Slate said as he took a sip, and made a face, showing he wasn’t a regular with the hooch.

  Duke opened the top drawer and threw the boat ticket to Shemara on the desk. “He hasn’t left yet. While the late Commissioner had me at gunpoint, our mystery friend said something about a boat to catch. He’s going back to Bertucci in style, on a one-way luxury cruise.”

  “This ticket says the ship gets underway in three hours. We need to get down there now,” Slate said as he pulled his pocket watch out and saw that it was 3:00 p.m.

  “Hold your horses, Captain, I’ve got a plan, but you’re going to have to trust me. We go down there with sirens blaring and running up the gangway, we’re going to spook him. He chucks the ledger and we’re left guessing. Plus, we need to see how deep this goes, and find a link to Bertucci. I’ve come this far, and I want the whole ball of wax.”

  “What’ve you got in mind, Dempsey?”

  Duke spent the next thirty minutes going over his plan with Slate. He had the ticket, and nobody onboard the Shemara knew who he was or what he looked like. If Slate’s planting of the information that Duke had bit the dust worked, his friend in white wouldn’t be expecting him as a passenger.

  The gist of the plan was for Duke to get on board, secure the ledger, see if the hit man had any contacts there, then take the scumbag into custody before the ship left territorial waters. Slate was understandably concerned with letting the ledger get on board an international cruise, but he warmed up to the idea of Duke getting the Intel he needed to bring the corruption to a halt in his town.

  “Ok Dempsey, I’ll play along, but just because we need to get to the bottom of this. Even if we get the ledger and the names, we still don’t have the operation. We need to know what the hell is going on in this town and put a stop to it. The fact that it has gotten this deep right under my nose doesn’t sit well with me,” Slate said as he forced down another sip. “I have one question about your plan. Once you get the ledger and your man in custody, how the hell are you getting back here?”

  “I’ve got it covered,” Duke said as he spun his chair around and looked out the window of his office. “I think,” he whispered to himself, just low enough Slate didn’t hear.

  Slate was about to get up when he reached into his pocket and took out the Special Deputized badge Duke had used to subdue Derflinger earlier. “I found this at the cottage. If you’re taking anybody into custody, you may need it. I’m not sure if it’s got much juice in the maritime world, but it may come in handy.”

  Duke, still looking out the window pondering his plan, said, “Just put it on the desk.”

  “I’m going to check on Mickey and give Lenny down at the Post a call about how Charleston’s legendary detectives met their demise. I’ll meet you at the docks in an hour,” Slate said as he made his way out.

  Chapter 27- Welcome Aboard

  Slate pulled up to the side gate of the pier in the same green sedan he’d let Duke borrow earlier. Duke was already standing by the fence and staking out the scene, smoking a cigarette. Slate got out of the car and approached Duke to see what he was looking at.

  There, on the water moored up to the pier, was the superyacht Shemara in all her glory. The pictures in the paper had done the vessel no justice, and the Shemara was the very definition of luxury on the high seas. Now that Britain was in the war, they’d tried to requisition the vessel for the Royal Navy, but some big shot with an endless amount of money had swept in and made it his palace on the water.

  It was 212 feet of stark white steel, with endless portholes that lined the side of the hull. It had 13 luxury cabins for guests and accommodated 30 crew members. The superstructure consisted of two decks, with a top housing the bridge where the captain and crew piloted the ship. Directly behind the cabin was a large golden smokestack that emphasized the luxurious construction of the vessel. It was a remarkable-looking craft, and Slate was feeling a little jealous he wasn’t the one taking a ride.

  “Anything exciting?”

  “I’ve been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing exciting was some luggage handler getting the business by an uppity passenger when he dropped her bag. Other than that, just typical food stores being loaded on board,” Duke said as he put out his smoke.

  “What’s in the bag?” Slate asked as he looked down at the case at Duke’s feet.

  “I’m going on a trip, as short as it might be. Got to look the part.”

  “When are you making your move to board?”

  “I want to see everyone get on that ship, and I don’t want any surprises. If I wait right before they pull the brow, most passengers will be in their cabins, and I have a good chance of getting to mine unnoticed.”

  “You packing heat?” Slate asked.

  “She’s in the case. I’m pretty sure a bulge on the side of my coat would draw attention.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a truck backing up to the brow of the ship. A group of Port Authority Officers ran over to the truck and began offloading five massive crates.

  “Now, this seems interesting,” Duke said.

  “More stores?” Slate asked.

  “Those are some pretty massive crates for just some food store.” Then something struck Duke sideways. “Look who’s driving.”

  “Is that your friend?” Slate asked as he focused his attention on the man in the white suit getting out of the driver’s seat of the truck.

  They continued to watch as the crates were loaded onto the ship one by one and disappeared into the superstructure.

  “Wonder if Smeltzer knows his boys are playing as deckhands on the side?”

  “Why don’t you ask him? There he is,” Slate said as LT. Smeltzer made his way out of the station house and supervised as the last crate was lugged on board the ship.

  Even though Duke was disappointed in what he was watching, it was hard for him to be shocked by how events were unraveling. Tom Smeltzer had been the head honcho down at the ports for the past five years, and had played a role in helping Duke and Stampkin with the investigation of the Nazi killings that summer.

  Once the last crate had disappeared below deck, Smeltzer walked over to Carbone. They had a brief conversation, and the professional hitman handed him an envelope before he boarded. Duke just shook his head in disapproval.

  “Not sure what’s in those crates, but at this point everyone is a suspect. We need to look at this as a blank canvas. Let’s keep the port authority out of it.”

  “Don’t worry about Smeltzer. Once you shove off, I’ll take care of him.”

  “Just wait on that. You bring him in too early and the word might get to Bertucci. Let’s not tip our hand just yet.”

  Slate nodded in agreement. It was all a crapshoot at this point, and he went all-in on Dempsey. The two sat and watched the vessel for the next hour and a half as the rest of the guests made their way on board without anything out of the ordinary happening. The only threat Duke could see was his friend in the white suit, and he was looking forward to their third encounter. The ships whistle sounded, and that was Duke’s cue.

  “Alright, sweetheart, I don’t want to be late.”

  “Good luck, Dempsey. You screw this up and both our asses are in a sling.”

  “Glad to see your pep talks haven’t gotten any better.”

  Duke made his way through the gate and toward the bro
w of the ship and hid his face as he walked past the Port Authority office. The officers were busy with some kind of powwow from Smeltzer. Duke crossed the brow of the ship, where a man in a white tuxedo met him.

  “Good evening, sir.”

  “Hey, partner,” Duke said as he handed the ticket to the man.

  “Welcome aboard the Shemara, Mr. Smith. Is this all the luggage you have for the trip?”

  “You can call me Frank. Yes, this is my lucky bag and I’m kind of particular about who touches it,” Duke said, and nodded, making it known he was the only one taking control of his case.

  “Of course, sir. You are the final guest and I am your steward for the trip. My name is Niles. If you would please follow me, I’ll show you to your cabin.”

  Duke followed Niles into the skin of the luxury superyacht and down the red velvet carpet that lined the stairs. The rails were made of golden brass that matched the stack that sat on top of the ship. As beautiful as the outside of the vessel was, the inside was far more luxurious than even Duke could have imagined, and he wasn’t even sure that Mary’s family would qualify for a cabin. Niles brought Duke around for the quick tour of the main common areas before leading him to his cabin. He made a mental note of the lounge where he saw a fine array of top-shelf bourbon behind the bar, and planned on making that his first pit stop of the evening.

  Niles stopped at a cedarwood door with a 13 etched in gold.

  “If there is nothing else, Mr. Smith, I must run and assist with dinner setup. The first course will be served promptly at 8:30 PM. It should be a fun evening and a chance for everyone to meet Captain Burton. If you need anything at all, there is a buzzer next to your nightstand that will ring directly to the steward’s quarters. Enjoy your stay onboard the Shemara.”

  Duke wasn’t sure if he was supposed to tip Niles or not, but did not give off any indication that he was out of his league. He gave Niles a snooty nod that Duke had seen given to other servants by some of Charleston’s elite. The indifference in Niles's demeanor told Duke that it was a gesture he was accustomed to.