Cold Justice

by Rick Polad

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  I ignored her question. “Did she leave a name?”

  “Nooo.” Her silence was full of questions.

  “Damn. That would have been interesting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She collects names. Would have been interesting to see who she was then.” I thought for a few seconds. “I used to collect stamps. Collecting names would be cheaper.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I told her about my mysterious stalker. “Could she have known where you made the reservations?”

  “I suppose, if she was nosy. I wrote ‘McGoon’s’ and ‘seven’ on my notepad.”

  I silently swore. “What did she want?”

  “Said she needed to see you. She was recommended. She asked if you’d be back in the office. I said you were done for the day, but you would call her. She wouldn’t leave a name or number.”

  I didn’t respond while I thought.

  “Is something wrong, Spencer?”

  “No. Just answers I don’t have yet. If you see her again, call me.”

  “Okay, but you have me worried. Did I do something wrong?”

  “It’s okay, Carol. Get some sleep and I’ll see you Monday morning.”

  I got ready for bed and then called Rosie. There was no answer. I fell asleep wondering about my stalker and decided to have Sunday lunch at McGoon’s.

  Chapter 11

  McGoon’s wasn’t as crowded as it was during football season. I had spent most Sundays at the bar with friends watching the Bears. It had been a good season. They had won their division but had lost the NFC championship game to the 49ers. The prediction for the next year by the football pundits was to win the Super Bowl. But predictions were easy to make.

  I ordered bangers and mash with Irish brown bread and ate at the bar. There were only two other people at the bar so Jack had time to help me solve the world’s problems. We had figured out how to bring about world peace when he asked if I had seen the new TV show, Jeopardy.

  “No. Heard about it. Like a trivia game, but you have to ask questions, right?”

  “Right. They get some smart people.”

  I took a drink. “Sounds odd. Bet it won’t catch on. The Sixty-Four Thousand Dollar Question only lasted three years.”

  He glanced away and then nodded toward the door and winked.

  “What’s that about?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.” He gave me a sly smile and walked away.

  I figured out what it was about before she sat down next to me and dangled her feet above the foot rail.

  “Well, we meet again,” she said with a smile.

  “Yes, small world. Jamie, right?”

  “Right. I’m impressed. And you’re Spencer.”

  “I am today.”

  She laughed. “Some days you’re not?”

  “No, just some days people have other things to call me.”

  The waiter arrived with my lunch.

  “What brings you back here so soon?” I asked.

  “Probably the same thing that brings you back.”

  I figured that was exactly right, but I didn’t know why. “And what would that be?”

  “The food is terrific. Bangers and mash is one of my favorites.”

  I wasn’t going to share. She put in an order and asked if she could join me. Jack set a glass of white wine in front of her and winked at me again.

  I hadn’t given enough thought to what I would do if she showed up. My only plan was to let her talk and see what was on her mind. As I ate, she spoke first.

  “You from Chicago?”

  “I am. How about you?”

  She laughed. A nice laugh. Inviting. “I’m not really from anywhere. We moved around a lot.”

  “Army?”

  “No. My father just didn’t like staying in one place.”

  The bar was filling up. Jack brought me another beer.

  “So you have family here, then,” she said.

  “Well, not anymore.”

  I cut a slice of sausage and forked it into some potatoes. I was surprised when she let that lie.

  “What do you do to make your fortune, Spencer?”

  That was one of the things I should have thought about. I decided that since she obviously already knew, the truth was best.

  “I’m a private detective.”

  Her eyes widened in feigned surprise. If I didn’t know that she already knew that, my male ego would have been duly stroked.

  “That’s exciting! That’s pretty amazing about the murder of that witness.”

  That was something I had thought about. There must be a connection between her and Joey. She frequented his parlor. But that could be for any number of reasons. A group of guys who lived together and a pretty girl across the street. Maybe she was waiting for the soda jerk job to open up. Or maybe she just liked ice cream.

  When I ate without answering, she continued. “With the only witness dead, do you think they’ll let him go?”

  “No. Not right away. But I bet the DA isn’t happy.”

  “No. Probably not. But it’s a shame to see a guilty man go free, especially that way. Sounds like the mob is alive and well in Chicago. I thought things had changed.”

  “Things haven’t changed since Cain and Abel.”

  Her food arrived, and she cut into the sausage. “That’s a pretty grim outlook.”

  “I read the papers.” I ate my last bite of sausage and eyed hers. She was right about one thing—the food was excellent.

  “Who do you think killed him?” she asked.

  “Killed who?”

  “The witness.”

  “No clue.”

  As she cut some sausage, she asked, “Do you think they’ll catch him?”

  “If they get lucky.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This wasn’t an angry shooting. It was planned and thought out. Very unlikely that there are any loose ends.”

  “I wonder how many crimes the police don’t solve.”

  “A lot.”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t feel so safe.”

  I just smiled. We had talked our way through lunch, and I hadn’t learned anything useful. Jack asked if we wanted refills, and we both declined. If the circumstances had been different this would have been the point in the conversation where I asked her back to my place or she asked me to hers. I knew neither was going to happen, but I wondered if she was waiting for me to ask. I thanked her for the company, and she said she hoped we would meet again. I knew we would, but I had no idea how or why.

  The checks came and we left money on the bar. Jack nodded to me with a smile.

  ***

  I had settled on the couch with the Sunday Trib and fallen asleep somewhere through the sports section. The phone woke me around three. It was Rosie asking if I wanted to meet at McGoon’s for dinner. She was buying and said she had a taste for bangers and mash. I told her about lunch… well not all about lunch. I suggested she come over for pizza, and she accepted. We watched some mindless TV and talked about Joey. She wondered how long it would take his lawyers to get him out on bail. Now that the witness was dead, my guess was by noon on Monday. Hers was Monday afternoon. I planned to visit the parlor in the morning for a chat with the help. I didn’t ask Rosie about Gabriel, and she didn’t ask about Jamie. But then she didn’t know about Jamie.

  She left early, and I went to bed with The Long Goodbye.

  Chapter 12

  The sun was out Monday morning, but the thermometer was still sitting at eleven degrees. I waited for rush hour traffic to clear, then headed for the ice cream parlor. I wondered whether Loretta would be there. She had worked herself into an interesting corner. I figured she thought I wouldn’t have remembered her from the parlor. But if she showed up there again it would be somewhat suspect. She hadn’t denied knowing Joey, but she hadn’t offered that she did. And at the very least she knew of him and would normally have
mentioned that.

  The ten o’clock news led with a story about Joey’s lawyers going back to court this morning. I parked in the restaurant lot and walked across the street. The same familiar cast were at their places inside the parlor. Moose was at his table with an unlit cigar between his lips, and Jimmy was toweling glasses behind the counter. Both looked up as I let in a rush of cold air. Neither spoke. I figured that was about what I should expect from the chats.

  As I took off my coat, Moose said, “Hey, Gumshoe.” He got up, rapped twice on the door, and announced me when Marty slid the panel open. He didn’t ask about a gun. I let myself in and sat in the armchair with the green cushion.

  Marty was behind Joey’s desk with a cigarette going in the ashtray and didn’t bother with greetings. “You think the boss’ll get bail what with somebody takin’ care of the snitch?”

  I gave him my best disapproving look and decided not to bother arguing his choice of words. “You never know. Depends on the judge. But if I were to put money on it, I’d say yes.” His blank expression didn’t change. I couldn’t tell if he would be happy about that or not. It would be good to know.

  I watched him for another minute. The only change was when he picked up the cigarette and blew smoke up toward the ceiling fan.

  “So, what’s the deal, Manning? I have things to do.”

  It didn’t look like he was doing much. The desk was clear.

  “I came for a chat with the boys. Might as well start with you.”

  He shrugged and blew some more smoke. “Unless you want to talk about baseball or the shameful rate of crime in this city, we have nothing to say.”

  “I’ll give it a try.”

  He shrugged again. “Your time.”

  “Who’s been running things with Joey gone?”

  “Who do you think? Same person who runs things when the boss is here.”

  I wondered if Joey would agree with that. “So, if you run things maybe you’d like to sit behind the desk all the time instead of just when Joey is a guest of the county.”

  “I’m not stupid, Manning.”

  “Not saying you are.” I knew Joey would be lost without Marty to run the business, but I also knew Marty respected the mob structure. “But if Joey were gone, I’m thinking you wouldn’t mind.”

  “Every working stiff likes to get somewhere in life. If the boss were gone and Mr. Maggio thought me a good replacement, I wouldn’t turn it down.”

  That was a safe answer, and it didn’t give me any insight into whether he would be willing to have a hand in helping his boss to be gone. Maggio had told me that the old days of the mob were over and that he ran a business. Marty fit that picture… Joey didn’t. I was sure Maggio would prefer Marty and was well aware of Marty’s value to the ‘company,’ which made me wonder about Maggio. But I was also sure Maggio realized the value of Joey. Every once in a while they had to break a few legs… just business of course.

  I looked at the fully stocked bar Joey kept behind his desk. Marty made no offer. But it was too early for me anyway.

  “Marty, let’s say you had to pin this on one of the boys. Who’s your best guess?”

  He shook his head, inhaled, and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Try a different song, Manning. I’ll admit my motive, but what reason would the other three have? They know nothing about the business. They’re just hired help.”

  I planned on asking each one of them that question. Someone might answer.

  “Are we done here?” Marty asked.

  “You and I are. How about you send in Mike?”

  “Mike’s not going to be happy about that.”

  “I’ll try and worry about that.”

  As he stood, I asked, “What’s with Mike and Danny living with Joey?”

  “What’s with you asking?”

  “Just wondering.”

  “Keep wondering.” He left the room and several minutes later was back with Moose. He sat behind Joey’s desk, and Moose sat on the couch.

  I looked from one to the other. “I need to talk to Mike alone, Marty.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “What are you afraid he’ll say?”

  “I’m not afraid of anything because he has nothing to say.”

  He wasn’t talking to me—he was telling Mike. “Then what’s the problem?”

  He stared at me for a minute and then got up and walked out with a glance toward Mike.

  As soon as the door closed, Moose said, “I got nothin’ to say, Gumshoe.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Joey’s in a bind. You don’t want to help?”

  “I would if I could, but I don’t know nothin’.” The cigar was still clamped between his teeth, like a mother dog picking up a pup with her mouth. It wiggled as he talked. And even when he wasn’t talking it moved. It was like someone playing with a pencil.

  “Joey has made a lot of enemies. Do you know any in particular who would go to this trouble?”

  “Nobody’s that stupid.”

  “Plenty are that stupid, Mike. You see everyone who comes and goes. No threats?”

  “Lots of threats.”

  “Anyone in particular stand out?”

  He just shook his head. “You’re barking up the wrong tree.”

  “I agree with you, Mike. I don’t think this is any of Joey’s customers. But that leaves one of his employees.”

  He took the cigar out of his mouth and suddenly sat up straight. “If you’re sayin’ I had somethin’ to do with this, you’re nuts.”

  “I’m not saying that at all. But you yourself ruled out the customers. So that leaves you four.”

  A look of confusion showed on his face. He was struggling with that concept.

  “That’s a lotta crap.”

  “Look at it logically.” I knew that was asking a lot. “Who would benefit from Joey being put in jail?”

  He leaned back on the couch and replaced the cigar. “None of us are that stupid either.” His eyes squinted a bit. “Except maybe…”

  I gave it thirty seconds before I asked, “Except maybe who?”

  He didn’t answer, but his eyes squinted to slits.

  I had to keep him talking, so I made an educated guess. Danny was the obvious choice. Everyone else spent the day together.

  “Danny?”

  He opened his eyes and nodded slowly. “I always wonder what the hell that kid does all day long.”

  I knew at least some of what he did and was anxious to hear more at lunch.

  “So if you had to pick one of the group it would be Danny?”

  “I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. You done wastin’ my time?”

  I ignored that. “Do you think Joey would meet someone in an alley alone and kill them?”

  He laughed. “The boss wouldn’t go anywhere near an alley. He wouldn’t want to get his suit dirty.”

  “When was the last time you saw him with a gun?”

  “I’ve never seen him with a gun.” We just looked at each other for a few seconds before he asked if I was done.

  “Who’s the bodyguard?”

  “He ain’t got no bodyguard.”

  “That’s pretty hard to believe, Mike. A guy who makes enemies as part of his business would be pretty dumb to walk around alone.”

  “The boss ain’t dumb.”

  “Again, then logic would say he has a bodyguard.”

  “I don’t know nothin’ about logic. I know there ain’t no bodyguard.”

  “You see all the customers. Do you know anything about a short woman with short black hair, about thirty?”

  “The boss doesn’t have any lady customers.”

  “I’ve seen her at the counter eating ice cream.”

  “If they don’t go into the office I don’t pay attention. Now you done?”

  “Sure. Send in Jimmy, please.”

  Halfway to the door he stopped and turned around. “I gotta say one thing, Gumshoe. You gotta lotta nerve comin’ in here and tryin’ to pin this on us.�
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  “Just doing my job, Mike. If he was set up, and I think he was, it was someone he knows. And the only people he knows are you four.”

  He stood and started toward the door.

  “One more question, Mike.” He turned back with a glare. “Could you get out of the house at night without the others noticing?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “Just wondering—could you?”

  He shrugged. “Sure, I suppose.”

  “And so could Joey?”

  “I guess. Why do you wanna know that?”

  Seemed obvious to me. I let him wonder.

  After a hard stare, he walked out. Jimmy came in a minute later. He was clenching his hands and fidgeting. I watched him do it for a few minutes until he finally asked what I wanted.

  As I explained my theory about the setup, his fidgeting became more extreme. I was surprised he didn’t fall off the couch.

  “How long have you worked for Joey?” I asked.

  “About five years, but I don’t know anything. I just watch the counter… you know, ice cream and sodas.”

  “But you’re always here. You must know something.”

  “I just work here, mister. I’ve never even been in this room.”

  “You didn’t know what goes on here when you took the job?”

  “Honest to God. I just do the ice cream. I never even see these guys except here.”

  I believed him the first time, but I spent ten minutes trying to get him to change his mind. He didn’t. Moose wasn’t about to make ice cream cones, so they needed somebody to wear the white apron. I asked him how he got the job.

  “I was out of work. My sister was dating a guy who knew somebody looking for a counter man. I got hired.”

  “And you didn’t wonder about the guy sitting at the table with a gun or the parade of customers who walked into the back room without buying ice cream?”

  “I just wanted a job, mister. I mind my own business.”

  I still believed him, but there was a question he might know something about.

  “There’s been a lady coming in. Sits at the counter. Short black hair, round face, cute. You know who I mean?”

  “Yes. Name’s Jamie. Nice kid. She’s a regular.” He had settled back to his normal fidgeting.