A Family Matter

by Chris Laing

  “I’m okay, Max, and I’m so relieved you are too. I heard all those shots out there. What happened to those men? Are you alone?”

  I placed my forefinger against her lips to quiet her. “Listen to me. Iz.”

  She struggled to free herself but slumped against my arm. “Oh, Max –”

  “We don’t have time to talk now. Frank was shot and he’s unconscious in the hallway. Two gangsters were gunning for me out there and I had to shoot them. Did you see any others?”

  Her head turned toward the doorway as though she expected another mobster to barge into the room.

  I grasped her shoulders and squeezed. “Iz, look at me.” I raised my voice. “Were there more than two men?”

  She shook her head and winced. “I don’t know for sure. But I only saw two of them.”

  “Are you hurt?” I ran my fingers lightly through her hair and felt a sizeable bump developing at the back of her skull and there was blood on my hand when I removed it. “Did they hit you on the head with something?”

  “They weren’t gentle when they threw me to the floor upstairs. And down here, my head hit that stone wall when they dumped me and I must’ve passed out. I’m still a bit dizzy. Is Frank all right? Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m going to set you free, Iz. Then I need to call an ambulance for Frank. He’s lost a lot of blood.”

  The heavy blanket wrapped around her was secured by wide strips of packing tape at her ankles, waist and chest. I cut the tape with my pocket knife and peeled away the blanket. Her skirt had ridden up around her waist and I tugged it down.

  She gulped several deep breaths, then slowly moved her stiffened limbs. “That feels better already, Max.” Her voice croaked when she spoke.

  “Don’t try to get up.” I moved forward and helped her scoot on her rear end a couple of feet back toward the wall where I propped her up and placed the blanket over her legs. “I’m going to phone for an ambulance from the corner store. Here, I’m giving you my gun in case another one of those gangsters shows up. If you have to use it, fire just as I showed you at the gun club. Remember to hold it in both hands, aim for his middle and squeeze the trigger, don’t yank it. I know you can do this if you have to, Iz. I’m depending on you. And so is Frank.”

  I reloaded my revolver and placed it in her hands, aiming the barrel down, and I backed away from her. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I promise.”

  I hurried out the basement door and stopped at the corner of the house. Frank’s was the only car out front, no sign of more unwanted visitors. It made me wonder how those two gunmen got here. I hadn’t seen another car.

  In my haste I’d forgotten to get Frank’s car keys but I didn’t go back for them; I could probably cover the half a block to the corner faster than if I went back for the keys and drove there. So I limped in double time to that little store on the corner of Barton Street, my battered knee complaining with every step I took.

  An old man leaned against the counter, smoking a cheroot while he leafed through a newspaper. His head jerked up when I barged through the door and slammed it shut with my foot. I was leaning over, my hands on my knees, panting and trying to catch my breath. By now, my bum knee felt ready to explode, my eye and ear throbbed, and I clenched my jaw to keep from screaming.

  After a moment, I was able to speak. “I need to use your phone. It’s an emergency.”

  He shook his head from side to side. “No inglese.”

  My Italian was worse than rusty; I hadn’t used it for years. I’d picked it up when I lived with Frank’s family, but I’d forgotten much of it since then. I pointed to the phone on the wall behind him. “Telefono, per favore.”

  He frowned and proceeded to give me hell in rapid-fire Italian. I didn’t catch what he said and I didn’t have time to argue. So I yanked out my wallet, leaned across the counter and flashed it quickly open and closed in his face. “Polizia,” I said.

  He spun around, grabbed the receiver and stuck it in my hand. The phone cord was taut so I remained half-sprawled over the counter in order to use it. I got the operator and asked her to connect me with the police. After a bit of rigamarole at the cop shop, I finally reached Frank’s boss, Staff Sergeant Lantz. “Officer down,” I told him. “It’s Max Dexter calling. Frank Russo’s been shot and needs an ambulance. And you can send the coroner’s van for a couple of Tedesco’s boys.”

  I gave him the location of the building and told him to hurry, that Frank needed a medic right away. Then I passed the phone back to the old guy. “Grazie,” I said and I hurried out the door.

  Back at the house, I slumped against the basement wall for a moment, catching my breath and resting my throbbing knee. Then I withdrew Frank’s gun from my coat pocket and entered the shadowy hallway, moving slowly along the wall in a crouch to check on him. The metallic tang of human blood was almost overwhelming down here and my stomach began to churn.

  I got down beside Frank; he was still unconscious and his breathing remained laboured but that big bandage on his wound didn’t look much bloodier than before. I moved to the dead gangsters – they were still dead. But I noticed a trail of blood stains on the floor where the big guy in the Tigers jacket had been dragged a few feet beyond where I’d left him.

  Shit.

  What the hell did that mean?

  Isabel wouldn’t have moved him: therefore someone else had arrived in my absence. I hadn’t seen another car out front but it might’ve been stashed on the far side of the house, tucked out of sight, maybe where the dead gangsters had parked.

  I got to my feet and didn’t move a muscle, listening for the visitor. Not a sound other than Frank’s heavy breathing. Then I tiptoed along the hallway to the room where I’d left Iz and poked my nose around the corner.

  She sat in the same position where I’d left her, leaning against the wall, gripping my gun in both her hands, aiming it squarely at me. “It’s Max, Iz. Don’t shoot.”

  I stepped forward after she lowered my revolver.

  A young guy in a black overcoat lay crumpled on the floor in front of her, his black fedora upside down on the floor near his head, his gun clutched in his right hand. His eyes were open wide and he seemed to be staring at Iz, not believing she’d shoot him.

  I rushed toward her and grasped her right wrist, then pried my revolver from her ice-cold grip.

  “I had no choice,” she said in a hoarse whisper, her eyes riveted on the corpse at her feet. “He said he was going to … kill me.”

  I got down beside her and wrapped her in my arms, squeezing her tight against my chest. I whispered in her ear, “Just hold on to me. I love you, Iz.”

  We huddled there on the floor, clutching one another and shivering as the tension began to ebb away.

  The shrill wail of police sirens pulled us apart. “Cavalry’s riding to the rescue,” I said. “But I want you to stay here – I’m worried about that big bump on your head. The medics can take a look at it, just to be sure.”

  “But, Max –”

  “Just humour me. Please.”

  She made a shooing motion with her hand and I eased her back against the wall.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I stood beside the driveway and watched the cops arrive like an invading army, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Three police cars bounced along the roadway; two of them parked on the shoulder; the third drove in and parked behind Frank’s car. Staff Sergeant Lantz got out and waved me over. “Which floor are they on?”

  “In the basement. There’s a rear door that’ll be easier for the ambulance guys. Frank’s in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. He’s unconscious and there’s still some bleeding. There’s also a pair of Tedesco’s guys nearby – both of them down for the count. Another body in a room down the hall where they were holding my assistant. She’s safe now but she ha
d to shoot a new arrival while I was at the corner store phoning for help. She’s got a big bump on her head and I think she should go with Frank to the hospital to have it checked.”

  He stepped toward me and gripped my shoulder. “Good man. Stay with me and we’ll talk more in a minute.”

  Then he waved to one of the cops out on the road. “Hey, Mike. It’ll be quicker if you have the ambulance guys come in along the side of the house so they can use the basement door. The ground’s almost frozen so they shouldn’t have any trouble.”

  He signaled to the cops in the other car and they jumped out and hustled toward us. “I’m going in the back door with Dexter here –” He turned back to me. “Front door locked?”

  “Not anymore,” I said. “The first and second floors were clear when I went to the corner to call you. I was only gone five minutes, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.”

  “Okay. Gibbens, you and Mike go in the front door. A quick look around upstairs, then meet us in the basement.” He turned to the other guy, a young constable, “You’re with me, Springer. Let’s go.”

  The rookie cop hesitated, then pointed at me. “But this guy’s just a civilian, Boss – he’d only get in the way.”

  Lantz took a quick step toward him so they stood nose to nose and he pointed at me. “This guy was a military policeman who saw action overseas and he was a Mountie before that. So keep your lip buttoned and your eyes open. Maybe you’ll learn a thing or two.”

  Downstairs, I showed the cops the scene and explained that Frank and I had been searching for Isabel. “I saw two Mob guys – the one who shot Frank was waiting in ambush on the landing up there. Frank tumbled down the stairs and I was able to clip the shooter. The other guy came out of the room where Isabel was tied up. He missed with his first shot and I didn’t.

  “I freed Isabel then hurried to the corner where I called you. While I was gone another guy showed up and was about to attack her. I’d left her with my revolver and she shot him.”

  Two of the ambulance attendants rushed along the hallway toward us, carrying a stretcher. The Detective Sergeant directed them to Frank. “Take Sergeant Russo first.” He pointed to me. “This man gave him first aid and he can tell you what he did. And there’s a woman down the hall who might need treatment.”

  They loaded Frank onto the stretcher and carried him out the back door to the ambulance. I went with them and explained how I wrapped his wound and tried to slow the bleeding.

  One of the attendants remained with Frank and I accom­panied the other to examine Isabel. Lantz was on one knee speaking with her in the room down the hall and he stood when we entered.

  “This is one brave woman, Dexter. I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

  Iz piped up, “He’s learning.”

  The medic knelt beside her. “Let’s have a look at that bump.”

  She leaned forward and he examined the back of her head. “Quite a bit of blood from this scrape along your scalp – you’ll probably need some stitches. Have you been dizzy? Nauseous?”

  She shook her head and I saw her wince. “Well, maybe a little.”

  The guy stood up and brushed off his knees. “Might be a concussion. It’s best to have it checked at the hospital.”

  I wanted to go to St. Joe’s with the ambulance but there wasn’t room and I hated to see it leave without me. Frank’s boss offered to drive me after he’d deployed his troops. He pointed to the cop he’d called Mike. “You and Gibbens wait here for the coroner’s people to pick up the bodies, then get back to the station to write up your report. I’ll meet you back there.”

  He turned to the rookie and said, “Heads up, Springer,” and tossed him a set of keys on a ring. “Drive Sergeant Russo’s car to the station and wait for me there.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I slid onto the front seat of Lantz’s car and when he stopped at the corner of Barton Street I pointed out the little store I’d called him from. He nodded toward a black Plymouth parked beside it – a couple of guys watching while they smoked. “Looks like our little show down the road has attracted an audience,” he said.

  “Yeah. I wonder if they’re hangers-on from Tedesco’s team or if they’ve already switched allegiance to the new guy.”

  “If they’re still loyal to Tedesco, they won’t be around for long.”

  He shook a cigarette loose from a soft-sided pack of Philip Morris smokes and stuck it between his lips. He offered me one and I waved him off. Then he cranked his window down a crack and lit up. “I’ve been wondering how you and Frank figured out that your assistant was being held down here.”

  He put his car in gear and headed downtown.

  I turned to face him, not liking the sharp tone now in his voice. “You might’ve heard that my mother is Diane Black.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “She tipped me off. To save my assistant.”

  He flicked his eyes at me, then back to the traffic. “Well you see, that’s what puzzles me. I’m wondering why she’d do that. The FBI says she’s an important Mafia figure with a reputation as a financial expert. And she’s also experienced in looking after certain ‘personnel’ problems.”

  He turned right onto James Street, heading toward St. Joe’s at the foot of the Mountain.

  “What’s your point? Are you suggesting that Frank and I were doing favours for the Mob? Accepting bribes or some damn thing in exchange for information about my assistant?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Now, don’t go off half-cocked, Dexter. I just have to be sure of what happened here. It’s part of my job to check these things. We’ve had a few cops over the years who couldn’t resist a little palm oil to look the other way.”

  “Well it sure as hell ain’t Frank’s way – he’s the most honest guy I’ve ever known. You’re barking up the wrong tree, Mister.”

  He pulled to the curb across from the Medical Arts Building near the hospital and leaned toward me. “Here’s the thing, Max. Frank’s coming up for promotion soon. And how do you think it would look to the selection board if they found out that one of my men was just a little too cozy with the Mob?”

  I stared into his small dark eyes and saw the anxiety of a middle-aged guy who feared he might be putting his pension in jeopardy if he made a wrong move here. “You’re not really concerned about Frank’s career, are you? You’re worried about covering your own ass.”

  He reached for my arm again and I pulled away.

  “C’mon, Max. What I meant was –”

  I shook my head and opened the passenger door. “I know damn well what you meant. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  He was waiting for me at the entrance to the Emergency ward. “Listen, Max –”

  I brushed past him and he didn’t follow me in. Then I spotted Frank’s wife at the admitting desk. “How’s the patient, Angie? What’s the doc say about his leg?”

  Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and she clutched a damp hankie in her shaky hands. “Oh, Max, am I glad to see you. They took Frank up to surgery. I only talked to the doctor for a minute and he told me the bullet has lodged in an awkward spot and it might be difficult to remove. I don’t know what that means, but I’m really scared.”

  She smothered me in a bear-hug and sobbed against my shoulder.

  “He’s a strong guy, Ange. He’s going to recover from this. He’ll be chasing you around the kitchen before you know it.”

  She clutched me tighter. “Oh, my Lord. I hope you’re right.”

  “Where are the twins?”

  She released her grip on me and took a step back. “My mother came over. She loves to look after them and she’ll spoil them rotten. Now tell me what happened to Frank. They just said you were with him when he was shot.”

  I led her into the waiting room and we sat beside a Christmas
tree covered in cut-out pictures and hand-made cards. A hand-lettered sign said: “Decorations from the Children’s Ward”. Bing Crosby was singing you-know-what from a hidden speaker and I tuned him out.

  I slid my arm around Angie’s shoulder. “Isabel was kidnapped by some gangsters so Frank and I were searching for her in an abandoned house where a couple of thugs got the jump on us. Frank was shot right away and I took care of the two guys. I found Isabel tied up in the cellar and after I freed her I called for an ambulance to bring them both here.”

  She dabbed at her tears with that wet hankie, staring at the brass crucifix hanging on the opposite wall. “He’s never been wounded before. I’ve been dreading this day and it’s every bit as bad as I thought it would be.” She sobbed again. “No. It’s even worse.”

  I leaned in closer and whispered. “We have to support each other, Angie. Have you seen Isabel yet?”

  She jerked back from me. “Did you just say she was kidnapped? I’ve been so concerned about Frank that it went right over my head. Did they admit her, too?” She tugged my arm, “C’mon, let’s find out.”

  Angie bounced up from her chair, linked her arm through mine and rushed me back to the desk. I inquired about Miss O’Brien from a short, harried nurse whose shift change couldn’t come soon enough. She shuffled through some papers and looked up, giving me the cold-eye. “You a relative, Mister?”

  “She’s my sister,” I said with a pretty good quaver in my voice.

  Angie raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

  “Turn right. Bed four.”

  Arm-in-arm again, we bustled down the corridor to bed four.

  I edged the curtain aside and peered in. Isabel was propped up on a pile of pillows, eyes closed, a green ice-pack at the back of her head. The curtain-rings jangled when I drew the curtain all the way back and her eyes popped open. “Oh, Max. And Angela. How’s Frank? Is there any word yet?”