The Long Silence

by Gerard O'Donovan

  ‘No, not as such.’ Tom cast his mind back. ‘All I said was you sent me to make sure she was doing all right. DA Woolwine was right beside her at the time. Maybe he told her what I do for a living. Does it matter?’

  Sennett batted the idea away with his hand. ‘I guess not, now. But I reckon you must’a hit a nerve somewhere along the line. She was mighty perturbed. I know her well enough to be certain of that. But she wouldn’t tell me the cause, or even where she was. Who else you been talking to?’

  ‘Who wasn’t I talking to?’ It occurred to Tom that maybe Mrs Ivers had contacted Normand after he left Casa Duende, to confess what she had divulged to him about the abortion. It was one heck of an indiscretion.

  ‘You have no idea?’ Sennett pressed. ‘She mentioned you by name, more than once. Whatever it was, you made an impression.’

  Tom kept his poker face in place. But that settled it for him. It had to be Ivers. She was the one who focused on his name. And Normand would rightly be appalled if she thought Sennett would discover her secret. That information might destroy what little remained between them. However scarred and buried deep, the man had a heart. And no matter how poisoned and contorted the bond with Normand had become over the years, that heart was still fused to hers with a ferocity Tom would never understand. No way could he tell Sennett what Ivers had revealed.

  ‘I kinda assumed it was what you wanted to see me about tonight,’ Sennett continued. ‘One way or another, you better tell me now. Because Mabel says she’ll only come back to work if I get rid of you.’

  ‘Get rid of me?’ The pitch of Tom’s voice betrayed him, but Sennett misinterpreted it as shock.

  ‘Sorry, Tom, but if that’s what it takes. She’s still my little money-spinner. And all-round light of my life, in truth. I need her back.’

  Sennett said it so gently that Tom had to wonder what else had passed between him and Normand during that call. The man had always been putty in her hands, and his mood had certainly lifted. Had something more significant happened?

  ‘I’ll pay you for the time you’ve put in, of course.’ Sennett leaned back, pulled a money clip from his pocket and lobbed a wad of bills on the desk. ‘And how about as a bonus we write off what you owe me on the house, and the next three months’ rent as well? That ought to see you settled. Enough to lease an office room off the Boulevard, get yourself set up proper. Gotta have an office of your own if you’re in business.’

  Tom had done it enough to ‘friends of Lasky’ to recognize when he was being bought off. And none too subtly either. He just wasn’t sure why. Had he got it wrong? Did Sennett already know about Normand’s abortion? Or was he just wrapping things up on her orders, the only way he knew how?

  Either way, it made no difference. He was so overjoyed at the thought of finally being rid of this mess, it was as much as he could do to disguise it.

  ‘You know everything I do for you is confidential, Mack,’ he said, picking up the cash and putting it in his pocket. ‘That’s guaranteed. I’ll take your money – and your bonus. Because I did the work. But you need to hear what I found out, because this could be seriously bad for your business.’

  Sennett had closed his eyes and put a hand up, he was too tired to hear any more. But at the mention of his business the eyelids snapped open again. The hand ceased to be a stop signal and, palm up, became a demand.

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘Meaning what’s going on over at Lasky’s, and how you might want to do something about it. They’re selling you down the river big time, Mack. You and Miss Normand. And they’re making a dirty job of it.’

  Sennett leaned forward in his chair, the color rising in his neck as Tom outlined what he had uncovered about the negative press being run against Normand out of the Lasky studio, and the indisputable evidence he had removed from J.J. Fine’s office.

  ‘Those bastards,’ Sennett exploded. ‘And I had Charlie Eyton call me only yesterday, consoling me over being barred from exhibition in Kentucky. The little jerk must have been laughing up his sleeve all along. I’m gonna make him sorry. I’m gonna sue the goddamn shirt off his back. And Jesse Lasky’s, and Adolph goddamn Zukor’s as well. I’m gonna make ’em rue the day they crossed me. They want to spread muck? I’ll make ’em eat it by the wagon load.’

  ‘You’d be better off calming down, Mack,’ Tom said when he finally got a chance. ‘You know what they say. That particular dish is best served cold.’ He could have pointed out that litigation would succeed only in giving the press a field day: the perfect excuse to rake out even more dirt about Miss Normand. But his job was done, and he was not going to risk getting caught in the fallout.

  ‘Forget that claptrap,’ Sennett said. ‘Where’s this telegram you say you have? I’m gonna set things going with my attorney right now.’

  Tom felt his cheeks burn, the image of Ramirez poring over the papers in his front parlor clear in his mind.

  ‘I don’t have it with me.’

  ‘So let’s go get it.’

  ‘I can’t. Not right now. I told you I’m only in here cos I’m waiting for a call. It’s too important to miss.’

  Sennett blew some steam from between his lips, exasperated. ‘So let me go. Where is it?’

  ‘Somewhere safe, OK? Look, Mack, you’re just going to have to trust me on this. That’s just going to have to wai—’

  The telephone bell lopped off his words like an axehead, and both men turned to the apparatus as if a stranger had burst in on them. Tom hesitated but knew he couldn’t risk missing Sullivan. As it sounded again, he plucked the earpiece from the cradle and put his hand over the mouthpiece.

  ‘You do what you have to, Mack. But I’m taking this call. Now leave me to it, please. I’ll bring over the proof to you in the morning.’ If I make it to then, he thought.

  Sennett began to say something but checked himself. He flapped a hand angrily at him, but Tom was already turning away, all his attention taken by the buzz of Sullivan’s frustration echoing from the earpiece.

  ‘Hey, Thad …’

  The rest of his greeting was drowned by Sennett storming out, slamming the door behind him so hard that Jimmy Manos’s gallery of stars shivered on the walls.

  FORTY-ONE

  At the other end of the line, Sullivan was busy berating Tom. He had heard on the grapevine that an arrest warrant had been issued. It served Tom damn well right, he said. He’d given him enough warning about making that statement.

  Tom let him blow off some more steam before challenging him. ‘And you know for sure it’s Ramirez who did it, Thad, do you?’

  ‘Well, who the goddamn hell else would it be?’

  It took Tom a further five minutes to calm Sullivan down and bring him up to speed with what had happened since he’d seen him just a few hours earlier: about Devlin and Ramirez, Mazaroff and Taylor, and Mrs Ivers, too. But most of all about Devlin and Ross.

  ‘And you’re certain it’s Devlin, not Ramirez, who was behind this?’ Sullivan asked finally.

  ‘Well, no, how could I be? But come on, Thad, would you go to the trouble of issuing a warrant just because someone didn’t make a statement?’

  ‘Damn right I would – if the ungrateful malcontent had already been brought in on suspicion and subsequently disappeared into thin air.’

  ‘But I didn’t, did I?’ Tom insisted. ‘I mean, Ramirez was happy to let you vouch for me. Why would he go disturbing a judge on a Sunday just to throw some worry my way, when he hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me before now? It doesn’t make sense. Or risk getting on the wrong side of you, for that matter? You know he would’ve have tipped you the wink first, just like you would him.’

  That seemed to clinch it for Sullivan. He couldn’t see one cop treating another so shabbily, not even as queer a fish as Ramirez. Devlin, of course, was another matter entirely.

  ‘OK, but even if you’re right,’ Sullivan finally conceded, ‘why in hell would Devlin go to so much trouble over you? Why
not frame someone easier?’

  ‘I don’t know, Thad. I mean, at first he must’ve just reckoned the gods were smiling on him when I was brought in for Madden’s murder. He said as much to me that night at the station. But I’m thinking maybe he since figured out – assuming it was Ross who killed Madden and I’m the only witness – that I’m also the only one who can link it all back to him. So he wants to get me out of the way, fast as possible. You have to admit it would’ve been pretty neat if he’d managed to plug me earlier. How much better would that have been for him? No messy loose ends to tie up. A fleeing suspect shot. It would have been impossible to challenge. Even for you.’

  Sullivan grunted a nominal doubt. But he knew as well as anyone how cops close ranks over such things, regardless of circumstance.

  ‘All right, so maybe what you’re saying makes some sense,’ Sullivan said, dropping his voice even lower. ‘But that doesn’t get us away from the fact that, right now, as far as the law is concerned, you’re a fugitive from justice and I’m risking my badge talking to you.’

  Sullivan’s frustration crackled down the line, and Tom knew he’d have to say out straight the danger he was in.

  ‘I know, but what the hell else can I do? I’m dead meat if Devlin gets his hands on me. I reckon I’m lucky I even got to pass any of this on to you. That’s about as far as I’ve thought it through.’

  There was a silence on the line as both men sought to come up with a plan, until Sullivan said, ‘I reckon there’s one move we can play and keep you alive long enough to get at the truth. You’ll have to give yourself up.’

  Tom could not believe his ears. ‘Jesus, Thad, haven’t you been listening? That’s the one thing I can’t afford to do.’

  ‘Wait now. Hear me out,’ Sullivan said reassuringly. ‘I don’t mean to just anybody. I mean to me. Place yourself in my protective custody. It’s the only way, don’t you see? That means we get you straight to somewhere safe, and Devlin can’t touch you on the way.’

  Tom wasn’t convinced. ‘Yeah, very nice, old pal. I’ll be locked up while Devlin mixes the ingredients for a nice frame-up in court. No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘Ah, don’t be ridiculous. It will give Ramirez and me time to crack whatever he’s got going on. Look, I don’t see you’ve got any choice. If you don’t do it, you’ll be on the streets and on your own. You’re long in the tooth enough to know you’re not going to last long at that lark.’

  Tom groaned. He didn’t want it to be true but he could see it was probably his best hope of getting out of this mess alive. Sullivan didn’t even need to hear it from his lips. His silence was eloquent enough.

  ‘Good lad. Now, come on; speed is important here. Let me come and pick you up before any of the boys go and get too enthusiastic. You can be sure Devlin will have let it be known how grateful he’ll be to any officer who nabs you. Where are you? On Wilshire from that number, I guess?’

  It near killed Tom to tell him. ‘Yeah, I’m up at the Ambassador, in Jimmy Manos’s office in the Grove.’

  ‘Christ!’ Sullivan laughed. ‘You do well for yourself even when you’re in trouble. No bloody hole in the wall for Tom Collins, eh? Look, I’m going to put a citywide bulletin out on Ross to make sure the boys on the street keep an eye out and nab him as soon as he’s spotted. At least he’s recognizable with that gait of his. As for Devlin, we’ll have to go easy for the moment, play him at his own game until we have Ross in chains, OK? Now, you hang tight. I’ll be there in ten minutes, right?

  ‘Yeah, all right.’ Tom heard a sharp rap on the door. Thinking it must be Sennett coming back, he put a hand over the mouthpiece and shouted, ‘Come.’ But nobody came. ‘Thad, you need to speak to Manos when you get here, yeah? I’ll tell him I’m expecting you. Hang on a sec first, though.’

  He put down the earpiece and ran over to the door and opened it a crack, but there was nobody there. He opened it wider, then saw, down the corridor, out on the dance floor, a flurry of flying fists and Jimmy Manos attempting to break up a rumpus between two men. One of them was definitely Sennett. The other … Christ, was that Charlie Eyton? What the hell was he doing out there? Sennett must’ve gone off like a powder keg on seeing him.

  He clicked the door shut again. Thinking hard. It could be only a matter of minutes before Sennett had the bright idea of dragging him out of Manos’s office to back up everything he was throwing at Eyton.

  He picked up the telephone again, held it to his lips.

  ‘Listen, Thad, there’s some trouble kicking off outside. I can’t stay here. I’ll have to make a bolt for it. I’ll see you over at Fay’s place instead. The Oasis. You know it, don’t you?’

  Without waiting for a reply, he hung up, placed the telephone back on the desk and, hooking a finger round the fob that held the key to Jimmy Manos’s auto, shouldered past the washroom and slipped out the back.

  FORTY-TWO

  As soon as he skidded to a stop outside the club, he knew something wasn’t right. The door was wide open and one of the awning poles had been knocked out of true, giving the canopy a drunken, woozy tilt. Still more concerning was the fact that Herman was not in his usual spot, no burble of music leaking up from the club below. Inside was no better – the carpet scuffed, an electric light bulb smashed, glass fragments littering the floor. Tom dashed down the stairs. Cloak hatch shut. Silence ominous as a storm cloud. Through the padded doors the club was almost empty, lights up eye-ache bright, stale smoke loitering in the used-up air, a couple of waiters righting chairs and tables as if closing time had come and gone.

  Across the room he spied Herman sitting on the stage edge, Colleen standing beside him, mopping at his face, a blur of dark red on the front of her cream shirtwaist that could only be blood. A couple of steps further and he saw it: Herman’s face gray, smeared from a gash on his hairline, suit pocket torn at the lapel, the buttons all popped.

  ‘What the hell’s happened here?’

  They looked up as one, hadn’t heard him approach. Colleen stood quickly, her face a stew of fear and relief, and reached out, pulling herself in towards him for comfort. ‘Oh, thank God you’re here. Herman’s hurt. His head won’t stop bleeding. He needs a doctor.’

  Tom repeated his question, leaning in to take a closer look at the ragged cut on the doorman’s forehead. He knew enough about head wounds to know most bleed worse than they are. Where the hell was Fay?

  ‘Is Mrs Parker out back?’ he asked.

  Herman was mumbling something that wouldn’t make it past his split and swollen top lip. Colleen glanced away, and back, tears spilling from her eyelids as she shook her head.

  ‘They took her,’ she said. ‘They took Mrs Parker away with them. It was awful.’

  ‘Who did?’

  Herman was still struggling to talk, frustrated, but got it out, the effort loosening his lip for a whole sentence. ‘Prohies, Mr Collins. Barged in with some cops. Too many for me to keep out.’

  Tom looked to Colleen for confirmation.

  ‘I heard shouting,’ she said. ‘I looked out the hatch. Herman was coming down the steps backwards, whole gang of big guys on him, shouting, “Raid, raid!” and “Stay where you are!” I tried to see in the main room after them, but folk started screaming and rushing out. Then they came out again, dragging Mrs Parker by the arms. Real rough, they were.’ She looked away, ashamed to say it.

  ‘Just her?’ Tom asked. ‘Where was Eddie?’

  ‘He don’t work Sundays,’ Herman said.

  ‘And they arrested her?’ He couldn’t believe the night could get any worse. ‘How long ago was this?’

  ‘Twenty minutes, maybe,’ Colleen said, still looking scared, uncertain, her gaze flicking to the door and back all the time. ‘They weren’t here long.’

  Tom looked around for something to anchor him, to convince him that any of this felt right. But it didn’t. The room had barely been turned over. ‘Did they go in the back at all? Take any crates and cases, books, ledgers – anyth
ing like that – away with them?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t see any. Only Mrs Parker.’

  He really did not like the sound of that. A glance at his wristwatch. Sullivan, surely, would be arriving any minute. He wondered if Herman would be more forthcoming about what happened if the girl wasn’t there.

  ‘Colleen, in the office, on the shelf, there’s a box with bandages and iodine. Has a white cross on top. Go get it; we’ll patch up Herman.’

  Once she was out of earshot, he leaned down, looked Herman straight in the face. The man looked all in, eyes struggling to focus. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Collins,’ he mumbled. ‘They caught me on the hop.’

  ‘You didn’t try to stop them?’

  ‘Sure I did, but there were four of ’em and big with it. Caught this early on.’ Herman tapped the gash on his forehead gingerly, looked at his finger to judge the drying blood. ‘Didn’t notice much of anything after that, except Mrs Parker arguing with ’em, telling ’em she already paid her dues to County and to get the hell out. Must’ve realized she was the boss then, cos they just laid hands on her and dragged her out. No need to be so goddamn rough about it, I said. And got another tap for my trouble.’

  ‘They the same cops as last time?’

  Herman shook his head. ‘I ain’t sure of nothin’ right now.’

  ‘But they had a couple of prohies with them, you said? Did you get a look at their badges?’

  Again the desultory headshake. ‘No chance for that, Mr Collins. They come in swingin’. All nightsticks and mouth. Shouting about liquor violations, yelling all round ’em.’

  ‘But only four-strong?’ He scanned the room again. The damage was minimal. Could be as much the fault of folk climbing over each other to get out as those coming in. Not like any booze raid he’d ever seen.

  Again he examined the gash on Herman’s head. The flow had stopped. Didn’t look like the kind of wound you’d get from a nightstick. He might have said more but Colleen was coming back, bandages in hand. He squeezed Herman’s shoulder.