Cold Justice
Page 1
COLD JUSTICE
RICK POLAD
Minneapolis
Minneapolis
FIRST EDITION June 2017
COLD JUSTICE Copyright © 2017 by Rick Polad. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations used in critical articles and reviews. For information, write to Calumet Editions, 8422 Rosewood Drive, Chanhassen, MN 55317.
Cover and interior design: Gary Lindberg
Other Spencer Manning Mysteries
Change of Address
Dark Alleys
Harbor Nights
Missing Boy
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Other Spencer Manning Mysteries
Table of Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Sign Up
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Preface
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously with the following exceptions.
Name the Dog Contest
Always embroiled in mystery, Spencer finds himself in the middle of a situation with a dog… and the dog needs a name. I decided to let my readers decide. The winner of the contest was Karen Bedore. Three runners-up were Helene Tipa Morrison, Nancy Knox, and Mooneen Gossett. All opted to take the prize of having their names used for characters in the book. Their names are used with their permission, and their names are all I borrowed. The characters belong to my imagination.
History in the Mystery
As in my previous books, Cold Justice weaves the rich tableau of Chicago crime figures into the story. Larry Maggio, my fictional head of Chicago crime, is also fictionally the grandson of the real-life crime boss Johnny Torrio, the man who taught Al Capone everything he knew. Wherever I mention historical crime figures and events, the information is historically accurate to the best of my knowledge.
Chapter 1
I had only been asleep for ten minutes when my phone rang at six a.m. Not a good start to the work week. But then my work week hadn’t started on Monday. I had been out late on a surveillance job for a friend of my mom’s until an hour ago, tracking down a deadbeat who refused to pay child support. Being able to pick and choose, it wasn’t something I usually did. But Erma Blakely had played bridge with my mother, and her daughter, Tracy, had no one else to turn to. Child support deadbeats were lowlifes, in my opinion, and I was glad to help. I had told her I would find the guy if he was in Chicago, but if it led elsewhere I would turn that information over to the police and wish her luck. She said the police hadn’t been helpful so far. I didn’t doubt that. It wasn’t something they spent a lot of time on.
But I had found the guy. With a little information from Tracy, I had assumed the guy had a girlfriend and started with the fact that some relationships start at work. He had recently quit his job and disappeared, but I paid a visit to Reynolds Pest Control and put my money on the young, pretty receptionist. I followed her home and, after four nights in the cold in front of her apartment building, found Mr. Deadbeat coming out at five a.m. with a smile on his face. I followed him to an address on the north side, which I would give to Tracy and the police.
My groggy hello brought a smart-ass comment from Lt. Powolski. I was too tired to explain, or even respond.
“Spencer? Spencer!”
“Yelling isn’t going to help. I’ve been up all night freezing my ass off, and I’ll be back asleep in ten seconds, so make it quick.”
“You have that big inheritance, and you’re out freezing your ass off? What’s the matter with you?”
“Favor for a friend. You got something worth keeping me awake?”
“We arrested Joey Mineo.”
That got my attention. “When?”
“Sometime while you were out freezing your ass off.”
“No need for sarcasm.”
“But fun nevertheless.”
Joey “the Juicer” Mineo was the gambling and loan department for Larry Maggio, Chicago’s current crime boss. Over the last few years we had developed a relationship based on something I couldn’t put my finger on. I didn’t agree with what he did for a living, but I had to admit he had a soft spot for kids and had been of some help in the Riverview case last summer.
“So what? What’s this, the twenty-eighth time? And how many times has he been convicted? Oh yeah, none.”
“You done?”
“Not quite. What did you get him for? Jaywalking?”
“Now?”
“Sure.” I was trying to pay attention, but my eyes had closed right after I said hello, and my brain had already crawled back into my warm bed.
“Murder.”
That woke me up.
“And why are you calling me?”
“Because he’s asking for you. Get dressed.”
“Pardon my wanting to get more than ten minutes of sleep, but why is he asking for me?”
“He says he’s been framed.”
I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so tired. “Stosh, are you aware of how ridiculous that sounds? Of course he says he was framed. That’s Criminal 101 along with ‘I want a lawyer.’”
“Spencer, I think he was.”
The little voice inside my head that kept me up nights thought so too.
***
I endured the eighteen-mile-an-hour wind and the twenty-two-below wind chill in between the house and the garage and was sitting in Lieutenant Powolski’s office thirty minutes later with a cup of black coffee. His secretary, Kate, wasn’t at her desk, so I left a box of Fannie May chocolates on her chair and pushed it in so the candy couldn’t be seen by the masses. She’d know who it was from. I kept a supply in my freezer for such occasions. I couldn’t begin to count the times Kate had pointed me in the right direction or cut through red tape. She had worked for my father and had told me if I ever needed anything to ask. She had been around for a long time and knew all the ropes.
“You look like hell,” Stosh said as he straightened the stack of files on his desk.
“Feel like hell too—it’s a matched set.”
“You still on that child support job?”
“Yup. But about five this morning I got what I needed.”
He nodded. “I’m kind of slow, so let me see if I got this right. You have an inheritance that has you set for life, you live the life of a pauper, and you’re up all night freezing your ass off.”
I took a sip and just looked at him.
“Huh? Am I right?”
I sighed and put the mug on his desk. “Let’s talk about Joey.”
He sat back and stretched. “Brought him in three hours ago for questioning. He’ll be charged with first-degree murder.”
I tried not to show how surprised I was, but that was pretty hard. “Try and convince me you’re serious while I try and keep
my eyes open.”
Joey had been arrested more times than I could remember… for a wide array of imaginative charges, most having to do with gambling and loan sharking. Joey had a strict moral code that he lived by, and it was a pretty good roadmap if you ignored the crimes he sanctioned. He once told me he didn’t force people to bet on a horse, and he didn’t force people to sign an IOU. He was doing them a service. I had pointed out that by taking money from a poor father Joey might be taking food out of some kid’s mouth. He told me if I ever knew of such a kid he’d show up with dinner—for the kid.
But he refused to touch other things, like prostitution and anything to do with kids. And his employees were not allowed to gamble or have anything to do with horses, for two reasons. One, that was his business. And two, if his employees bet and lost, somebody would have a hold on them, and Joey figured that also meant someone would have a hold on Joey. He had told me that his men knew from the beginning that there were transgressions that wouldn’t be forgiven.
He had never been convicted, but as far as I could remember they hadn’t tried tax evasion. They hadn’t tried murder either. He had beaten them all because he was careful and because he had other people do his dirty work, and they had never sold him out—they had grown accustomed to breathing. Joey had moved up to the gambling chair when Larry Maggio took over the organization in 1973. Before that, Joey was the driver for Sam Giancana, a long-time Chicago mob boss who was murdered in his home.
“So what’s the story?” I asked.
“Can’t tell you all the story yet. We’re waiting on his lawyer, and I don’t want to take any chance on screwing this up. But we have an eyewitness who puts Joey on the scene putting two bullets into a now dead guy.”
“Who’s the dead guy?”
“Max Schloff.”
I nodded. “Max Schloff, part of the mob, fine upstanding citizen except for drugs and prostitutes.”
“But a dead citizen and an open case.”
“Which you’re working on just as hard as all the others.”
He just stared at me.
“Who’s the witness?”
He shook his head and pursed his lips.
“Reliable?”
“A witness.”
“Who I’m guessing isn’t… say… the mayor.”
No answer.
“When did this happen?”
“Friday night—11:20.”
“Okay, let’s go back to the framed part. First, Joey doesn’t carry a gun… maybe doesn’t even own one. He tells other people what to do. Second, he has alibis for every second of his life. I don’t think he even pees alone.”
Stosh nodded and leaned forward to put his arms on the desk. “Which is one of the reasons I believe him. We catch most criminals because they’re dumber than rocks. Joey is smarter than you and I. No way he’d let this happen.”
“So what do you think?”
He shrugged. “I agree with him—he’s been framed. And it’s a good one. There’s more that I can’t tell you yet. A jury would be out for ten minutes except for they’d miss the free lunch.”
“Yeah, hard to resist greasy chicken. Is he here?”
“Yes. Probably go to Cook County Jail after the prelim unless he gets bail. But he may not get it.”
I stood and said, “Can’t see how this is anything but a waste of my time. He’ll be out of here in no time.”
“Don’t know, Spencer. He looked worried.”
“This should be interesting.”
Stosh raised his eyebrows.
“It would be a great cover to build a rep as the guy who never leaves the office. Take care of business without telling anyone else, and sleep easy every night.”
Stosh nodded slowly.
“Max was a loose cannon,” I said. “Maybe he crossed some lines, and Joey took care of business.”
“Maybe. And maybe he was framed.”
I stretched. “Maybe. If he was, by whom?”
“I’m guessing that’s what he wants you to find out.”
“And what about Chicago’s finest?”
“We have a crime and a witness. We’re following that. Something else turns up, we’ll follow that too.”
“But since you have an open and shut case maybe justice looks the other way.”
“You’re defending Joey?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m too tired to know what I’m doing. There are many things Joey has done that he’s never been convicted of. Maybe you get him for the wrong thing, and that’s okay.”
He didn’t answer.
“Who’s the arresting officer?”
“Detective Piletti.”
I nodded. “Time for a chat.”
He bent his head down, stretching his neck. “Have fun with that.”
As I walked out he said, “Hey, Spencer.”
I looked back.
“Close the door.”
I did and stood, wondering what was on his mind.
“Sit.”
I did, but he just gave me a serious look and said nothing.
“So?”
He took a deep breath. “I’m going to share something, and I don’t want it repeated.”
“Sure.”
“The papers will say Schloff was killed in an alley.”
“Okay… so?”
“He was killed on the second floor of a warehouse on Cambridge.”
I looked at him with raised eyebrows. “You going to explain?”
“We got the tip for the warehouse and, since Joey’s name was mentioned, were hoping to keep it quiet as long as we could. But Jennings from the Tribune happened to be in the neighborhood doing what he does and stuck his nose in. I had a chat with him, and he agreed to print the alley story and sit on it for a week unless we clear it before.”
“Really? What did you bribe him with?”
“Bribe is a nasty word, Spencer. I just reminded him of some favors and promised he’d be the first to hear when we know something.”
“Any particular reason for the alley story?”
“Nothing specific. I just had a feeling, and we gave it a shot. Misinformation is sometimes useful. You don’t tell nobody. And nobody means nobody.”
I nodded. “Why are you telling me?”
“Because in the past you’ve proved to be helpful. It may be useful while you’re shaking those trees. Who knows what’s gonna fall out.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Stosh was a ‘by the book’ guy who didn’t play hunches. I’d pay attention to this one.
***
I sat waiting in the empty interview room for ten minutes before the door opened, and a guard walked in ahead of Joey Mineo. Another guard followed behind. Joey wore cuffs. It was the first time I had seen him without a suit. He looked like a shaved poodle, and his face had lost the normal confidence that was part of his demeanor, but I couldn’t pin down what it had been replaced by. One of the guards left and the other stood in a corner. Not being his lawyer, we didn’t get a private conversation. If it weren’t for Stosh I wouldn’t even be having a conversation.
He nodded at me as he sat at the bare wooden table. “Manning.”
“Joey.” He could have thanked me for coming, I thought with a little chip on my shoulder. Most of me wanted to be home in bed. “I’m working on no sleep here, Joey. Why me?”
“Because I’m good at what I do, and you’re good at what you do. I’ve been set up, and I got no idea by who. I need someone who’s good at what you do. The cops ain’t gonna put a lot of effort into this.”
I let that lie. “If you’ve been set up, I would think your people would be more help than me.”
He just stared straight through me. “You gonna help me or not?”
I knew I would. I couldn’t pass this up, but I didn’t want him to think I was at his beck and call. And, given his response to my last comment, I realized he didn’t know whom he had been set up by.
“They got a witness, Joey
. Why should I believe you?”
“I don’t know who the hell the witness is, but I never killed nobody, specially that crumb Max Schloff.”
“Or had anyone killed?”
He didn’t answer.
“How many times you been convicted, Joey?”
“Not a damned one.”
He sounded proud.
“And how many of those times were you guilty but got off because you have good lawyers?”
“The system said I was innocent, Manning. And I’m innocent now. If you’re not going to help, quit wasting my time.”
I stared back at him. “I’m not cheap.” That was true. Most of the time I was free, but I wasn’t cheap.
“Stop by the office. Tell Marty to give you five grand. That enough?”
That was more than enough. “For starters.”
He nodded and tugged at his collar. Even without a suit he was dressed better than most men, but it wasn’t all quite pulled together.
“And I need some information.”
“What kinda information?”
“Like a list of your employees.”
“For what?”
“Because you’re not sure who set you up, and it’s easier to start ruling out the friends we know than the crowd of guys who hate you.”
He nodded. “Ask Marty.”
“I’m askin’ you.”
“Well, I’m not in a talkative mood at the moment. Somethin’ about the surroundings.”
We stared at each other for a minute. “No guarantees, Joey.”
He shrugged.
“Then there’s the problem that if this is a frame it’s a pretty good one. Someone went to a lot of trouble and put a lot of thought into this.” I paused. “Someone doesn’t like you,” I said with a slight smile. “How many people have you pissed off over the years?”
He didn’t answer.
“This is like finding a needle in a haystack, Joey. I’m good, but I may not be that good.”
“You like challenges, Manning. And, just like me, you never lose.”
“So far. Hate to ruin my record.”
We were both quiet for a minute.