False Ransom (Mike Chance series Book 1)

by Ivan Infante

  FALSE RANSOM

  By

  E. Ivan Infante

  JANUARY 5 TH 1938

  Mike Chance tugged at the lapel of the cop uniform that had been given to him just a short time ago. The outfit was at least one size too small and it bunched up in all the wrong places. It was tight. He hated it. He also hated the 8 point style hat that was balancing on his head. It was several sizes too big and he knew it would fly off when he started running. He would have to jog out of the alley with one hand on his head, securing his hat and looking ridiculous. It would slow him down. He shook his head in disgust and the hat shifted awkwardly. He reached up and put it back in place. Then he lit a cigarette and checked his watch. He had time to get his bearings.

  Looking back it seemed like a million years, but it was little more than a week since Mike had slipped out from under a heavy load back East in the dead of night. He made his getaway in a zigzag run west. He stowed away on trains, rode buses, and hitch-hiked. He slept under the stars with one eye open. A few nights ago, he hopped the Super Chief. He spent New Year’s huddled in a corner of the luggage compartment. Today, he made it to Los Angeles. It was the furthest he could run without a boat.

  Now he stood in an alley in the city of Angels, smoking and waiting for a signal. He was already on a job. Across from him, on the other side of the dirt track, there was a big fat guy leaning against a chipped red brick wall. He also smoked and he’d been smoking since he’d met Mike at La Grande station. They had spotted each other on the platform next to the rumbling Super Chief. The fat guy announced himself as Doug. He had the cop uniforms bundled under his arms. He started in with questions right away. Mike didn’t give up any answers, just a stone face.

  Doug led Mike out of the station. They jogged across a street called Santa Fe and through several back alleys until Doug stopped in this one. He was out of breath, but he still managed to grab Mike and pull him out of the lamp light and into the shadows. He gave Mike one of the cop uniforms and told him to put it on over his clothes. Mike followed instructions.

  Now they waited. A clock somewhere chimed 2am. Mike didn’t want to be on this job, but he needed the money and he needed the good will of the man who set it up. In any other circumstance, he would have walked away. Not because he was tired from the trip and the score was small, but because of Doug. When they first met, Doug had admitted that he had never done anything like this before. He should have kept that to himself.

  Mike checked his watch. It was time. He looked over at Doug and nodded. They headed out of the alley and took a quick right onto 2nd street. Doug rumbled fast for a fat guy. Mike hustled to catch up and his hat almost came off. He reached up and held onto it with his left hand.

  After a few yards, they approached a dingy pharmacy set back from the street. The block was dark and deserted. No cars rolled past and no lights glowed behind the pharmacy windows on the first floor. The sign in the window was out, but Mike could see that the dormant neon tubes spelled out the word ‘Ryan’s.’

  On the second floor, light spilled from between drawn blinds. Mike and Doug ran toward it. They sprinted up a rickety wooden staircase that clung to the side of the building and headed for a small chipped-paint side door near the back. When they got to it, they stopped and scanned the street for witnesses. There weren’t any so Mike gave Doug a look. Doug nodded, stepped back, and kicked the door in.

  “Police!” Doug yelled as he barreled through the door. Mike charged in behind him.

  In the middle of the room, several men sat around a green felt table clutching five card draws. A bare bulb hung over them. It lit up a pile of cash, but it didn’t care to cast much light on the players. Probably because they were mostly butter-and-egg men from the valley who came to the city on business in their best suits and drank too much. The players froze at the sight of Doug and Mike.

  The dealer, a small wiry guy with an olive complexion, broke the tension. He leapt to his feet, tossed over the table and yelled. “Run!”

  The players took off.

  “Stop where you are!” Mike yelled.

  The dealer ignored the cops. He pushed the players in front of him and goaded them into a panic. He herded them toward a door on the opposite side of the room and rushed them through it. Doug and Mike didn’t pursue them. They stood around the table and listened to the clamber of shoes on the wood-slat stairs. The noise lingered for a second, then died out.

  Mike made his way to the back door and closed it. Behind him, Doug broke out in maniacal laughter.

  “That was great. That was so easy. We gotta do this more often.” Doug choked on his laughter and coughed a bit. Then he bent over and picked up the table. He set it right, then bent over again and started picking money off the floor. He stacked it on the table.

  Mike came back from the door to help him. He undid his too tight collar as he walked. The front door opened and the dealer strolled in behind him. He was a little out of breath, but he mustered a smile. His name was Benny.

  “Mike, you made it.” Benny walked over and brought a hug.

  Mike let him keep it. He offered a handshake instead and said. “Good to see you.”

  Benny accepted the outstretched hand. “I think you’re gonna like it here. All your troubles are over.”

  “Don’t start out lying.” Mike half-sneered.

  Benny kept up a smile. “What can I say? I’ve always been this way. The truth don’t take.” He winked.

  “Don’t I know it.” Mike picked up a discarded chair and sat down at the table.

  Benny was the best tout Mike had ever seen. He could round up any kind of mark, deliver him for any kind of grift, and do it anywhere in the world. He was also an ace promoter in his own right and a top notch outside man. He had run fake fights up in Portland until not too long ago. Mike took a job with Benny in that city, but the job turned rotten right away. They’d been forced to rely on each other in a way that either makes one man a murderer or two men close. They chose the latter.

  Mike wired Benny the day after it all went sour back East. Benny called him back and they schemed up grifts for hours. Mike pushed the money machine or the fixed foot race. Benny knew a lot of ladies. He suggested a badger game. He loved that one, especially the photography part. These were all long cons with a touch of sophistication, so when Mike arrived in Los Angeles and Doug greeted him with a cop’s uniform and talk of a card game raid, Mike had been surprised. Now, the veil was lifting.

  The way Mike figured it, Benny probably hustled up players in the train station bar. He brought them over here, served cheap drinks and took a fair cut of the pot and an unfair cut of whatever else he could palm. It was a good hustle, but most hustles are good until someone like Doug hears about them.

  Mike looked at Doug as he spoke, but his questions were directed at Benny. “I’m surprised you guys are running something so short so close to home?”

  “My friend here was eager.” Benny nodded at Doug as he picked up a chair and joined Mike at the table. The little guy had dressed down for his role as card dealer. The cheap clothes and open collar made him twitch. “I’d been running a clean game, well, relatively clean, but Doug here wanted to make a little money.”

  With those words, Mike figured it. Benny wasn’t this reckless. Doug had strong-armed him. Strong arming the tout was bad form and every grifter knew it. Doug wasn’t one of them. His actions made clear he was a different type of character. The type that made his money taking orders and kicking money upstairs.

  Mike and Benny sat silently and watched Doug as he hunched over the table and organized the money. Mike gripped his baton and beat the leg of his chair in a steady rhythm. Benny
recognized the hard look on Mike’s face and kicked him lightly under the table. When Mike glanced at him, Benny shook his head and mouthed the words “no murder.” Mike nodded, but he didn’t stop with the baton.

  “So you guys think we can use this place again?” Doug was all smiles. “Shoot, we should do it again, tonight. How long before you could round up more suckers?”

  Doug forgot the question as soon as he asked it, scooping up money absorbed all his attention. He had gathered it into one big stack and now he started counting it into three piles. Mike got up out of his seat and began pacing the room.

  Benny gathered up the cards. “We can’t do too many of these. The real cops don’t like us moving in on their action.

  “The real gamblers don’t either.” Mike said. He hovered around behind Doug. Mike didn’t like to leave these types walking around once he’d met them, but Benny had made a clear signal. Mike understood, but he still paced and waited for an excuse to drop. If one did, he wouldn’t hesitate to pick it up.

  Benny tried to head off the conflict. He reached forward and took the money from Doug. The fat gangster didn’t resist. He sat back and lit a cigarette while Benny counted out the rest of the money himself. When Benny finished, he handed Mike and Doug their cut.

  Doug cracked a nasty smile. “I look forward to next time. Maybe we can find some bigger spenders.” Doug stood up. “I’m gonna need a ride back, Benny. You ready to take me?”

  Benny shook him off. He offered his car keys to Mike. “You take him. I’ve got stuff to do.”

  Doug snarled. “He just got off the train. He doesn’t know his way around. How you gonna find your way back, tough guy?”

  Mike took the keys. “No better time to learn than now.” He didn’t like the idea either, but he wasn’t going to let Doug do any deciding.

  “How much you wanna bet your friend drives around all night like a rube?” Doug asked.

  Benny ignored him. Doug didn’t wait long for the answer anyway. He headed for the busted-in front door, grabbed it with both hands and tossed it aside. It crashed against the wall and ended up cocked at a bad angle. Mike handed Benny his share of the loot before he followed Doug. The fat gangster watched this hand off from the doorway. Disappointment flickered behind his eyes.

  Mike stepped out onto the landing. Doug waited there for him and motioned for Mike to go first down the stairs. Mike did. Doug followed close behind him. Once they hit the street, they were back in character. They strutted like cops on the beat.

  Benny drove an early ‘30s Model A Ford. He’d parked it behind a row of broken wooden crates far from the street lights. When they reached it, they dropped the act and stripped out of their uniforms. Sweat blotched the street clothes they wore underneath. Doug tossed his uniform aside and it landed in a puddle on the ground.

  “Give me the keys.” Doug said. “I don’t feel like giving directions.”

  “Sure thing, bud.” Mike tossed him the keys.

  Doug grabbed them out of the air, his reflexes were quick for a big man, and headed for the driver’s side. Mike bent down and picked up Doug’s discarded uniform. He bundled it with his own and stuffed them in a trash can, before he joined Doug in the Ford.

  Doug crammed himself behind the wheel and started the car. After the engine roared to life, he turned to Mike. “You wanna go back to the station and get your bags?”

  “Not a good idea. Suckers tend to linger.” Mike answered. He didn’t try to hide his disdain.

  “You boys sure have a knack for patter. Let’s see what you’ve got for a sense of direction.” Doug slammed on the accelerator and sped out of the alley. He had sweat a lot under his uniform and the smell filled the car. Mike rolled down the window and cool night air rushed in. He breathed it deep.

  Los Angeles glided past Mike’s window. It didn’t look the part. Mike had expected it to be greener, but it was dusty and there were vast empty spaces right next to blocks that seemed cleaved off Manhattan. And the sky was different, it was low and grey and it really wasn’t very dark.

  The car rounded a slow curve and made its way up into the Hollywood Hills. Doug had announced when they crossed Hollywood Boulevard. Other than that, he gave no directions and drove fast. He tried to confuse Mike with extra turns and back streets, but Mike paid attention. He knew where he was and he liked the neighborhood. Every time they cut back on the narrow road that snaked up the hill, the houses got bigger and the walls got taller. Mike figured Doug didn’t live up here – too much class. He worked up here.

  They took another tight turn up a blind cut back and emerged onto a hilltop flattened into a concrete cul-de-sac. A huge iron gate blocked the only driveway. Doug pulled up to it and stopped. He killed the lights. In front of them, a Spanish style mansion perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the city. They could see the city lights blinking in the distance to the left and right of the house, but in front of them there was only the dark hulking structure.

  “Tell Benny we’re doing this again.” Doug opened his door and plopped himself out of the car. “Good luck finding your way back.”

  “You’re not gonna invite me in?” Mike threw the question with a half-joking curve.

  “You want to meet the boss? Ha, I don’t think so. Besides, I gotta change. I’m babysittin’ later.” With that, Doug slammed the door.

  Mike slid over to the driver’s side. Doug leaned down near the driver’s window and shoved his hand in Mike’s face.

  Doug sneered. “Nice work tonight, pal.”

  That comment almost broke it open. Not so much the words used, but the way they came at Mike. ‘Pal’ had a bad angle to it. Mike found it hard to take. He’d been stewing since he met this jovial bastard in the train station. He first wanted to ice him in the alley when they’d changed into their uniforms. Murder crossed Mike’s mind a second time when Doug talked trash to Benny after the quick con. Later in the alley, when Doug had tossed his uniform in the puddle before they got in the car, Mike had to resist another urge to snap his neck. Now, after the word ‘pal’ had been spit into his face, Mike could barely contain himself, but he managed. He clenched his fists and focused. He thought about Benny and the new town and the fresh start. Mike knew Benny could promote a lot of hustle and Mike didn’t want to upset the equilibrium by gozzling some fat gangster within hours of getting to town.

  Mike looked over at Doug and managed to summon a nod of agreement, but he didn’t shake his hand. Instead, Mike put the car in gear and backed out of the driveway. Mike drove away slowly. Doug stood at the foot of the driveway and watched him. Mike never looked back.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Mike made his way down the narrow road at a crawl. He lit a cigarette and tapped the brakes to slow even more so he could catch glimpses of the city when it shimmered between the houses that clung for life to the steep hillside. As the Model A rounded a curve with an expansive view, Mike stopped cold and looked out over Hollywood. He stared at the bright flashing neon on the buildings in the distance. He smiled a little when he realized he had no idea how to get back to the train station. His anger had pushed the directions out of his head.

  After a second, Mike took his foot off the brake and the car rolled on. It picked up speed as it headed downhill. Mike took the next curve quick. He took his eyes off the city for a second and looked up the hill. He figured that the estate where he left Doug was probably directly above him. He looked for it, but he couldn’t make out much in the dark. Suddenly, a white blur shot across his field of vision and drew his attention back to the road. Someone had stumbled out in front of him. Mike slammed on the brakes. He was too late. The car the hit the stumbler dead-on and the body flew back toward the hillside and landed hard on the pavement.

  Mike sat behind the wheel and shook his head like he’d lost his last dollar betting on a favorite that didn’t win, place or show. After a deep breath, he drove a few feet. Then he stopped and sat in place for a long time before he lit a cigarette and got out. It was only a
few steps before he stood over the body. He’d hit a beautiful young blonde girl. She lay on her back off to the left of the car. She wore a transparent white nightgown and her hair was spread out behind her like a halo. Blood seeped out of the corner of her mouth. She was quite a sight. Her youth and beauty froze Mike in place. Then she moved a little, she was conscious. Mike heard yelling in the distance. He looked up the hill and saw the glow of several flash lights bobbing downhill toward him. Mike looked back down at the girl. He kneeled down next to her and said. “You’ll be all right.”

  “I know.” She spoke with strength. Her right hand held something metal and she swung it at him hard. He pulled back, but she clipped him across the forehead. His lights went out.

  When Mike came to, Doug was kneeling over him and shaking him by the shoulders. Mike snapped out of it, wrestled away from Doug and sat up. Doug took him by the arm and tried to help him stand. Mike shoved him away. Doug stumbled back.

  Mike got his bearings. Four trouble boys in weathered fedoras and black suits milled about behind Doug smoking crumpled cigarettes. Each man was slightly bigger than the man next to him and the smallest guy was huge. The girl was nowhere and Benny’s Ford was nowhere too. One of the men had Doug by the shoulder. This guy dressed a lot flashier than the others. He spoke to Doug in a low voice and Doug didn’t talk back. Mike couldn’t make out what was said, but he could see Doug nodding his head and grinning as he listened to commands. The other men shot impatient glances in Mike’s direction. These guys had hard glares with sharp edges. Doug looked soft, like a slow cousin, when he stood next to his pals.

  Doug came back over to Mike. “Come on, you’re all right. My boss wants to talk to you.” He reached out and offered Mike his hand. Mike took it. Doug pulled him to his feet. Doug offered him a cigarette and a light. Mike took them. Then Doug backed away and went over to the others.