Full Contact

by Robert J. Randisi

  “Leo Piper,” I said.

  “I know that name,” he said, “although I haven’t heard from him in a few months.”

  “He’s here in New York, Harry, and I need any information on him that you can get me, as fast as you can get it.”

  “I’ll do what I can,” he promised, “and call you back.”

  I gave him the number at Bogie’s in case he couldn’t get me in my office.

  “Thanks, Harry. Send me a bill.”

  “Sure,” he said, “hold your breath.”

  Billy could barely contain his excitement when I arrived at Bogie’s, but the dinner rush was in full swing and he was stuck behind the bar. Alison showed me to my table and took my order, and then brought me a beer.

  “Billy says he’ll be over as soon as he can,” she said, putting the beer down in front of me.

  “That’s all right, there’s no hurry.”

  She smiled and started away.

  “Alison.”

  “Yes?”

  I studied her then, for the first time, as a person and not simply as a waitress. She had long brown hair, brown eyes, a wide, full-lipped mouth that was quick to smile. She was wearing a Bogie’s T-shirt, which showed off her small but well-formed breasts.

  “I don’t remember thanking you properly for helping me the other night.”

  She smiled and said, “That’s all right. You have a lot of other things on your mind.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that,” I said, “but that won’t always be the case.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll see about your dinner.”

  I watched her walk to the steps that led to the kitchen and then Billy was sitting across from me.

  “What are you so excited about?” I asked, watching her walk up the steps.

  “Let me tell it my way or it won’t be any fun.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I already knew what I needed to know.

  “I tried the Mysterious Bookshop first because it was the closest, and being as clever and sneaky as I could I tried to find what they knew about Leo Piper.”

  “And?”

  “And they don’t know anything. From the first day he walked in there he’s paid cash for everything, and said very little.”

  “And?”

  “So then I went to Murder Ink, where I have a firmer foothold—I used to work there, you know—and I asked straight out what they knew about Leo Piper.”

  “Which was?”

  “The same. He pays cash. He’s never used a check, and they don’t take plastic even if he had wanted to use it.”

  “I can see now why you’re so excited.”

  “I’m not finished!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I stayed a while to talk—and I bought some books—and the girl who works there remembered something.”

  “What?”

  “Apparently Piper let it slip one day that he had been born in Brooklyn!”

  “Really?”

  “Isn’t that great? That’s even more than you asked for.”

  “About what I asked for, Billy—”

  “Wait, wait,” he said, waving his hands in front of my face. “I found out what you wanted to know—” he began, but Alison came over at that moment and he stopped short to see what she wanted.

  “There’s a call for Jack.”

  “Thanks, Alison,” I said, standing up. “I’ll be right back, Billy.”

  I walked to the bar and took the phone.

  She put her hand on my shoulder and said, “Your dinner is ready, but I’ll keep it warm for you.”

  I winked and said into the phone, “Jacoby.”

  “I’ve got what you wanted, Jack,” Harry Stoner said.

  “Jesus, Harry, that was fast.”

  “All it took was a few phone calls,” he said. “Leo Piper came to Cincinnati eight years ago and fell in with the wrong crowd—or right crowd, if you look at it from his point of view—right away. He started working for some known criminal figures as a runner, and worked his way up the ladder fairly quickly. About six months ago he left Cincinnati without saying where he was headed.”

  “New York.”

  “So you say.”

  “What’s the word on him, Harry?”

  “He’s ambitious, smart, cool. A few people here figured that he left when he finally got his confidence built up to the point where he could handle a bigger town. He was a fairly big fish here, Jack, but apparently he considered this too small a pond.”

  “What about his tactics?”

  “He had some muscle on his payroll, but he didn’t use them very much. Mostly for show. Nobody crossed him, Jack. He had big friends.”

  “Anybody pave the way for him to come here?”

  “Like I said, nobody really knew where he was headed. Sounds to me like he decided to take on the Big Apple by himself. How’s he doing?”

  “Not bad, but then he is a native New Yorker.”

  “One other thing.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t think his name was Leo Piper when he got here, but I haven’t been able to scare up a confirmation. Want me to keep digging?”

  “No, I think I can cover that here. Harry, I’m looking at Piper for a possible homicide. Was he ever involved in anything like that there?”

  “He was never arrested, but there were some accidental deaths that the cops talked to him about once or twice.”

  “All right. Harry, thanks for the quick work. Send me a bill.”

  “You owe me one,” he said, and hung up before I could argue.

  I stood at the bar for a few seconds and suddenly Alison said into my ear, “Ready?”

  I turned my head and her face was inches from mine.

  “I’m ready.”

  “I’ll bring it over.”

  I went back to my table where Billy was waiting impatiently.

  “Important?” he asked.

  “That was a P.I. from Cincinnati with some information—” I started to answer automatically but then stopped short when I realized what I’d said.

  “Cincinnati?” he asked, looking alarmed.

  “Billy—”

  “You already knew.”

  “Well—”

  “Here I was all excited about getting the information—how’d you find out?”

  “It was sort of by accident,” I said, but I hurried to add, “it helps to have confirmation, though.”

  “Don’t pull my chain, Jacoby.”

  “Look, you did a good job,” I said. “I just happened to come across the information during the course of the day.”

  He tried to look angry, but couldn’t pull it off.

  “Brooklyn, too?” he asked.

  I looked sheepish and nodded my head.

  “Damn.”

  Alison came over with my dinner then and said to Billy, “You’re needed in the kitchen, Billy.”

  “It’s nice to be needed,” he said wistfully, standing up.

  “Billy,” I said.

  “What?”

  “You’re not mad at me, are you? Pal?”

  “Me, mad?” he asked, looking surprised. “Of course not.”

  “Good.”

  He stopped Alison before she could walk away, grabbed my beer bottle, and put it on her tray.

  “This man is in training, Alison,” he said. “Bring him a Perrier with lime.”

  “Wait a minute—” I started, but she’d already walked away.

  Billy gave me an exaggerated grin that was barely visible beneath his bushy mustache and said, “Enjoy your dinner . . . pal.”

  Twenty-Four

  Over dinner I realized what my next stop had to be, and it wasn’t one I relished. I grabbed a taxi on Seventh Avenue and gave the cabbie the address of Wood’s apartment. I didn’t call ahead, but I was fairly sure that Lee would be there.

  When she answered my knock she appeared surprised, but then smiled and said, �
��Hello, Jack.”

  “Can I come in?”

  “Of course.”

  She allowed me to slip in past her and then shut the door behind us.

  “Can I get you something? Coffee?”

  “No thanks, Lee. I came to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “About something you might not want to talk about.”

  “Like what?”

  “Leo Piper.”

  I got the same impression I’d had the other times I had mentioned his name, like a curtain falling across her eyes.

  “What about him?”

  “Can we sit?”

  She shrugged, but walked into the living room and sat on the couch. I sat in an armchair across from her and leaned forward.

  “You knew Piper before, didn’t you, Lee?”

  “Before what?”

  “Before he came to see Wood that day,” I said, and then, watching her eyes, added, “before he was Leo Piper.”

  Her eyes, which had been studying the floor, flicked up for a quick look at me, and then fell to the floor again.

  “Want to tell me about it?”

  She took a deep, shuddering breath and said, “Jesus, no . . . but I will.” Then she looked at me again pleadingly and said, “Jack, Wood must never know what I’m going to tell you.”

  “Lee, maybe we should worry about getting Wood out of jail first and then worry about what he should or shouldn’t know.”

  She put her hand over her mouth, then took it away and said, “You’re right, of course.”

  “Just relax, honey, and tell me what you know about Leo Piper.”

  “He was born Leopold Piperneski and he always hated that name,” she said.

  “You knew him when his name was Leopold Piperneski?”

  “Yeah,” she said, nodding her head. “We were kids together in Brooklyn, Jack. We grew up together.”

  I let that sink in for a moment and then said, “Lee, that’s very interesting and it brings up a few questions, but before we get to that . . . why does admitting this to Wood frighten you?”

  She looked at her hands, which were wrestling with each other in her lap, and said, “He’s also the man who turned me out, Jack.”

  “Oh,” I said, trying not to appear as stunned as I felt.

  So that’s what she was afraid of, that the man who had taken her off the street would meet the man who had turned her out.

  “Lee, Wood has to know that someone started you out in the business.”

  “Sure, but he certainly wouldn’t want to meet the man who did, Jack—especially if the man was trying to get me back into the business.”

  “Yeah, but Wood himself has some girls out there too, Lee. To think that he would react violently to meeting the man who . . .” I let myself trail off, because thinking about it more and more, I believed that Knock Wood Lee probably would react . . . adversely.

  “You see?” she said.

  “Lee, why didn’t you tell me this before? I asked you not to hold anything back.”

  “I know, but I was frightened.”

  “I’m sure Wood is frightened, too.”

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but her silence could have jeopardized Wood’s case.

  “I know,” she said, studying something at her feet.

  I leaned forward and put my hand over hers before she yanked off a finger or two.

  “Lee, just tell me about Piper.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. I thought I was in love with him. I was seventeen and for two years I was convinced that I was hooking because I loved him . . . and then he left.”

  “For Cincinnati?”

  “I didn’t know where he was going, I only knew that he was gone and I was still out on the street. I still thought I loved him, too, but I wised up pretty quick, and then I met Lee.”

  “Did you hear from Piper at all?”

  “One letter, just before I met Wood.”

  “What did it say?”

  “I don’t know. I tore it up without reading it, but I did notice that the postmark was Ohio.”

  I thought about the letter that I had received from Julie, which I had kept in my office for months before finally tearing it up without reading it.

  “When he showed up at the door six months ago, I was shocked,” she said. “All I could think of was that he was going to tell Wood and that Wood would—” She stopped short and actually started to laugh. “That sounds funny, you know? That Wood would?”

  “That he’d what, Lee? Kill him? Or vice versa?”

  “I just didn’t want anything to happen, that’s all. And then he had the gall to come back and tell me he wanted me back!”

  “Lee, is Piper violent?”

  “Eight years ago he had a bad temper, Jack, but now he seems too cool and controlled. He’s changed.”

  “Has he spoken to you again since then? At all?”

  “No, but he sent me a dozen roses when Wood was arrested.”

  “What happened to them?” I asked, looking around.

  “I threw them out.”

  “Oh,” I said, realizing that it had been a dumb question to ask.

  “There was a card that said ‘You’ve still got a place with me.’ And you know what surprised me the most?”

  “What?”

  “That I didn’t hate him. I always thought that if I ever saw him again, I’d hate him . . . but I didn’t.”

  “What did he call himself back then?”

  “He was always Leo, but he used to use his mother’s maiden name, DeGuere. He said it sounded classy. I didn’t know he was calling himself Leo Piper until he showed up here that first day and introduced himself.”

  “Do you think he might have framed Wood to get you back?”

  She gestured helplessly and said, “I don’t know what to think, Jack. I wouldn’t think that any woman would be that important to Leo.”

  “Lee, you’re not just any woman.”

  “Thanks, but still . . . for Leo to go that far . . . I just can’t see it.”

  “Okay, Lee. Is that all of it?”

  “That’s it. I know I was foolish to hold back as long as I did.” She looked at me and said, “You’re a good detective, Jack.”

  “Sure,” I said, “I’m Sam Spade and Sherlock Holmes all rolled into one.”

  We rose together and she walked me to the door, holding my arm.

  “You know something?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “I feel better. I feel like I can breathe again.”

  “Is everything else going all right?”

  “Yes, I’m handling it.”

  She opened the door for me and I said, “Lee . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ll get him out.”

  “I know you’re trying, Jack. We both appreciate it.”

  “Take it easy, kid,” I said, stepping into the hall, “and call me if you need me.”

  “I hear you. Thanks, Jack.”

  It was dark when I hit the street, but the moon was reflecting off the icy patches in the streets and that seemed to brighten the night up a bit. There’s no love lost between ice and snow and me, but if it wasn’t for the ice I might have ended up having my head handed to me.

  As I started toward Canal Street, a man with a neck like a turkey stepped out of a doorway with intentions of laying a jack against the back of my head, but his foot hit a patch of ice and went out from under him. The jack glanced off the point of my left shoulder as he went down. I saw the second man come from around the corner, where he had probably been waiting in case I went that way.

  My arm had gone all but dead and useless, and if I stuck around there was still a good chance of getting badly hurt, since they obviously were not there to play games. I stepped in and kicked the man who had gone down while he was trying to get back to his feet. He grunted as the point of my shoe dug into his ribs, and then I turned and ran, hoping that I wouldn’t encounter a treacherous patch of ice before I rea
ched Canal Street.

  I heard the second man stop briefly by his fallen comrade, which gave me the head start I needed to reach Canal without being caught—and then, miracle of miracles, I saw a cab that had probably come off the bridge from Brooklyn and was looking for an uptown fare.

  “Go,” I said, jumping into the back seat.

  “Where?” the driver asked lazily.

  “Just move. I’m being chased by a couple of muggers.”

  He peered out the window in the direction I had come and said, “I got a piece, mac. You wanna take them out?”

  “I want you to get moving, dammit!”

  “Okay, okay,” he said, pulling away from the curb. “Geez,” he muttered, “try an’ help some people.”

  Once we were underway I gave him the address of Bogie’s and sat back, trying to massage some feeling back into my left arm.

  “They get anything?”

  “Just keep driving,” I said, testily. What I didn’t need was a talkative cabbie.

  What the hell was that about, I wondered. Was it simply an attempted robbery, or something else? Another try at bouncing me off a couple of walls?

  I didn’t think it was connected with that had happened to Hank Po and myself—that guy didn’t need a jack, or help—so I was left with two possibilities. A mugging, or an attempt to get me off Knock Wood Lee’s case.

  By Leo Piperneski? Asking him wouldn’t be the easiest thing in the world to do, but I was going to give it a shot.

  Twenty-Five

  “Pipersneski?” Hocus asked.

  “No,” I said, correcting him, “neski, Piperneski. It’s a Polish name.”

  “No shit?”

  I had presented myself at the Seventeenth Precinct early that morning and offered to take Hocus out for breakfast.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Ham and eggs and . . . information.”

  “For me or from me?”

  “For you, of course.”

  “Let’s go.”

  He took me to a small coffee shop on Third Avenue where an elderly waitress greeted him by name.

  “Why haven’t you ever taken me here before?” I asked, running my finger over the booth seat before sitting.