False Ransom (Mike Chance series Book 1)

by Ivan Infante

  They walked out under the arches and hit Wilshire. Benny turned left. Mike followed him. They left the building behind and walked east toward the rising sun. Traffic buzzed past and kicked up dust. After a few blocks, they crossed Wilshire and headed down Coronado Street. Halfway down the block, Benny stopped in front of a rickety wood-slat building painted a haphazard black. The two story structure squatted far back from the street. There was a gravel parking lot in front of it lined with large drooping California pepper trees. Benny showcased the property to Mike with a sweeping gesture worthy of a tour guide at the Taj Mahal.

  “It’s all mine.” He said.

  “How come there’s no sign? It’s a bar, right?” Mike scanned the building as he spoke.

  Benny took a while to answer. “There’s no sign, because I don’t need one. It’s famous.” He paused as if waiting for a smile or nod of approval. There wasn’t one coming. After a second, he continued. “It’s a nod to prohibition. The good old days when you couldn’t have a sign.” With that Benny waved Mike off in disgust and trudged across the gravel toward the building.

  “But what do you call the place? How’d you end up with it?” Mike followed Benny onto the lot. He was throwing the questions out to seem interested. Normally, he only asked this many questions when he was playing the outside talker and doing an opener. Now he used questions to try and smooth things over. He had learned that was necessary with people.

  “I won it in a card game. It’s kind of a dump, but I’ve kept it open with personality and subsidies from my other operations.” Benny answered as he led Mike under the pepper trees.

  On either side of Benny’s saloon, there were two enormous red-brick commercial buildings. As Benny and Mike walked back into the lot, the buildings loomed over them. Mike felt like he was walking into a canyon. Benny headed for the alley that ran down the side of his place. It emptied into a bigger alley in back. The dawn sun peaked through the trees behind them. The black building glistened.

  “Doesn’t look too well built.” They were up close now and Mike could see ugly patterns in the slat wood, crooked joins at the edges, and bad angles.

  “They threw it up right after repeal. Any place with a bar stool was packed. You remember?” Benny’s conversation grew more animated.

  “Yeah, I remember. Does it have a basement?” Mike asked.

  “Yeah, not many places in California do. It’s one more thing that makes it special.”

  “I like it.” Mike nodded.

  “Come on in then, I’m starving.” Benny smiled. He had gotten approval.

  They headed down the alley that ran alongside the building. It got narrow at the back. Mike looked up, but staring at the narrow band of sky above him made him dizzy. Bright flashes sparkled in his vision. He stopped in his tracks to shake it off.

  Benny looked over his shoulder. He caught Mike pulling himself together. “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Mike grimaced.

  Benny took him on his word and kept walking. Mike followed, but he kept his eyes on the ground. They came out into a back alley where broken glass and discarded crates littered the ground. Behind every building in the alley, a battered row of uncovered metal garbage cans attracted swarms of flies. In the shadows of the alley, they breathed the last of the fetid-moist night air.

  Benny led Mike along a circuitous path through the trash that ended at a thick metal door in the back of his saloon. The door was painted the same black as the walls and it was hard to see at first. When they got to it, Benny took out a huge key chain and fumbled through a hundred keys. It didn’t take him long to find the right one. He slid it in and the lock tumbled easy. Benny motioned for Mike to step inside. Mike didn’t move. Benny nodded a have-it-your-way and went in first. Mike took one last quick glance up and down the alley before he followed Benny into the building.

  Mike stepped into a back room with no windows. The door closed behind him and the place turned pitch black. It stayed that way for a while and Mike stared into the darkness. Just as his eyes started to adjust to the shadows, a bright light came on and he flinched.

  Benny stood in the center of the room. He held the cord of a bare bulb that hung from a thin wire in the middle of the ceiling. Mike took a look around. The room was a shoebox and it was filled with crates of liquor. In the right corner of the opposite wall, a door led into a kitchen. To his immediate right, there was a staircase that led up to the second floor. Under the stairs, a trap door to the basement hugged the ground trying to look inconspicuous.

  A shuffling noise came from the room above them. Mike stepped away from the staircase and backed up against some crates. He looked around for something heavy and blunt.

  Benny noticed and calmed Mike with a wave of his hand. “It’s Lo. He works in the kitchen. He stays upstairs, with me.” Mike didn’t move. Benny sensed a sharp edge and spoke clear and loud. “Lo, come on down, I want you to meet a friend of mine.”

  There was only a short silence before a young shirtless Chinese man in canvas pants pattered down the stairs. He was barefoot and there were no risers on the steps so Mike could see the soles of his feet. They were clean. Benny motioned for Lo to come over to Mike.

  “I’m Lo.” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.” Lo looked to Benny for approval.

  “Sure.” Mike shook his hand.

  Benny smiled and gave Lo a couple of pats on the back. “Now, go upstairs and get dressed. You need to get down to La Grande station.”

  Lo nodded and skittered back upstairs. Benny took Mike by the elbow and led him toward the kitchen. “You got the claim check, right?”

  Mike didn’t answer right away.

  Benny put some honey on his words and tried again. “Don’t worry. It’s not a problem. He’s trustworthy. You just give him the ticket.”

  “I got things in there.” Mike reached into his pocket and found the claim check. He didn’t take it out. He kept his hand in pocket.

  Benny steered Mike into the kitchen. The room was a narrow rectangle crammed between the liquor-crate back room and the bar. The walls were lined with sinks, stoves, and counter-tops. At the far end of the room, a big Frigidaire and an ice box squatted side by side. The bar was visible through a doorway directly in front of Mike. It took up most of the boxy building. On his right, there were windows with panes painted black. A small round table and four rickety chairs were parked right under them.

  Benny sat down at the table and kicked a chair at Mike. Mike caught it, turned it a little so he could see the stairs in the back room, then sat down. He took the baggage claim ticket out of his pocket and put it on the table. He held it securely in place with his index finger.

  Benny nodded when he saw the ticket. “He’ll be right down and he’ll come right back with it. I’ve known him for years.”

  “You’ve only known him since you moved here and I bet you made friends fast, within the first couple of days, before things got too edgy.” Mike let go of the ticket and sat back in his chair. Benny didn’t reach for it.

  “I’ve always needed help with that edge.” Benny shrugged. He was non-apologetic. His way of taking the edge off was victimless, not like Mike’s. When Mike took his edge off, he left a trail of victims behind him.

  Lo came back downstairs. He still wore his dirty canvas pants, but he had added sandals, a nice white silk shirt, and a ridiculous straw hat to his ensemble. Mike pointed at the ticket on the table. Lo looked to Benny. Benny gave him an okay nod. Lo nodded back and picked up the ticket. It vanished into his clothes in a flash. He bowed to Mike, then hurried out the back way.

  Benny stood up when Lo left. He walked into the bar and came back with an ashtray. He slid it across the table at Mike, who had been dropping his ash on the floor. Then Benny headed over to the stove and started making breakfast.

  Mike and Benny were halfway through their eggs when three hard swift knocks hit the back door. Benny got up from the table, took a sip of coffee as an afterthought and headed out.
Mike shifted in his seat so he could see through the doorway and see who came into the back room.

  Benny tumbled the lock and swung open the door. Three more Chinese, two men and a woman, entered. Unlike Lo, the men wore black slacks and white button up shirts with ties. The woman wore a white fluffy dress with a big bow in the back. The three of them paraded past Mike into the kitchen. They acknowledged him with smiles and got to work. The men started up the kitchen, while the woman disappeared into the bar. Mike followed her with his eyes.

  Benny slid into the seat across from him and blocked his view. “She looks good, don’t she? The customers love her, but don’t mind her right now. You can get to her later. Right now, lets talk about our plans for this fine city.”

  “What plans you got in mind? The ones we talked about on the phone didn’t really get past the talking phase.”

  “I don’t do too good here.” Benny motioned around at the bar. “But good enough to not want to operate in this county.”

  “What about those poker games?” Mike stubbed out his cigarette. The clatter of the Chinese in the kitchen brought back his headache.

  “They were just games until Doug stumbled onto me.”

  “How’d he stumble? He know you from somewhere?” Mike leaned back in his chair and tried to get comfortable.

  “Yeah, he knew me from somewhere.” Benny edged forward to keep the same distance between them.

  “He’ll come back for more.” Mike spoke out one side of his mouth while he lit the cigarette that hung from the other.

  “Maybe.” Benny motioned to one of the cooks. The man sauntered over and filled their cups.

  “So, you got road work in mind?” Mike stretched like he was about to get up from the table. He already knew he had to take whatever Benny had to offer. Still there was no need to let that out. He’d be giving up an advantage.

  “That is it exactly, road work, place called San Bernardino, east of here. It’s sucker country.” Benny had his palms flat on the table. His body was still, but his eyeballs darted left and right. His mind was on the edge of a frenzy. Mike remembered something he’d heard ‘Watch the hands, notice the eyes and you won’t be the one that dies.’ He thought maybe his Uncle had told him that or maybe he’d told people his uncle had said it. Maybe he’d made it up. It didn’t matter. The saying had stuck.

  “What’s the game?” The pain in Mike’s skull eased a little. He liked the conversation. He absorbed the energy of Benny’s hustle.

  “Drilling rights. I got stock certificates. Fake, but real good.” Benny was warming up. “Got a banker, perfect mark, greedy son of a bitch.”

  “Texas oil man?” Mike pointed at himself with both thumbs.

  “Or I’m the German.” Benny answered and mimicked the gesture.

  “Either way.” They said it at exactly the same time.

  A knock shook the back door, then another, and then another. They came regular, but got softer. The two Chinese cooks stopped working. The waitress drifted in from the bar. Her eyes were wide and glued on Benny. Mike shifted in his chair and scanned the room. He saw a knife on the counter he could grab and he breathed easier.

  Benny smiled and waved the closest cook to the door. He looked at Mike when he spoke, but he directed his voice to the room. “That’s Lo’s knock. He’s back from the station.”

  The cook walked to the door, unlocked it, and opened it slowly. Lo entered. He carried Mike’s bag in his hand. He had a big smile on his face and his eyes were a little too big. Mike knew right away. He’d seen eyes like that on Benny. So Lo had stopped off for something. Maybe Benny’s ship wasn’t so water tight. Lo stepped forward and put Mike’s bag on the table. Mike glanced over at Benny as he reached for the bag. He didn’t open it or check it. He put it on the ground next to him.

  “Looks like I’m going to unpack.” Mike said as he stood up from the table.

  “You can find your way back?” Benny stood up too.

  “I’ll be fine.” Mike headed for the back door.

  Benny followed him and let him out and locked the door behind him almost before it had closed.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mike picked his way through the maze of trash behind Benny’s saloon and headed up the alley alongside the black box building. Before he stepped out of the alley, he stayed in the shadows and scanned parking lot in front of the bar. His hand gripped tight on his bag. After a few seconds, he stepped out of the dark and crossed the parking lot at a brisk pace. When he hit the sidewalk in front of the saloon, he turned toward Wilshire. He walked slow and took in his surroundings. Benny’s place was the worst on the block, not by a little, but by a lot. Overall, the area was upscale. Benny had already bragged about running into movie stars when they had been walking over from the apartment. Benny tossed some names around. Mike had never heard of them.

  When Mike got to Wilshire, he looked up and down the boulevard. To his left, he saw the park. To his right, a row of shops staggered up a sloping hill. The foot traffic that ambled past outclassed him and some took notice of the dirt on his clothes and weighed him. Their eyes said he came up light. Their gawk burned Mike up and, by the time he got back to his building, he was grinding his teeth something fierce.

  He walked through the front door of The Ashton and into the high-ceiling lobby. He was ready for Hank the desk clerk to challenge him and start-up some conflict. Instead, a small red-haired kid with his head buried in a book sat behind the desk. The kid smiled big when he saw Mike. Word had spread. Mike brushed the kid off with a half-friendly nod and walked right past him without stopping.

  In the elevator, the operator was all smiles too, since Benny wasn’t around. Mike gave him the same disinterested nod that he’d dropped on the desk kid. He could tell both these punks were chiselers. From experience, he knew that if he let them get a conversation started, they would quickly get wound up and start promoting. Tough for them, Mike knew that routine. He grew up on it. He’d give them a nod and nothing.

  When he walked back into his new apartment, he took in the layout for the first time in the daylight. He had a clear head and that made the place seem smaller. He wandered into the bedroom. The big windows looked east and the bed faced them. The bed was well-built and had thick posts and a carved wooden backboard. It gleamed with polish. A heavy dresser squatted against the far wall. It had the same polished gleam as the bed. Everything did. To his left, there was a built in bookcase. It was empty except for a bible. Mike would have to think of something to fill the shelves with. He’d never owned a book.

  Mike stood over the bed, opened his bag and dumped the contents. He pawed through his clothes. They looked cheap. He’d have to get something new so he could fit into the neighborhood. It was his first regret about the apartment. The neighborhood was too classy. That would make it harder to operate.

  He stopped pawing through the clothes and turned his attention back to the bag. He reached in and pulled the lining away from the side to get at a hidden pocket. He took out his bankroll. It was all he had and it wasn’t much, but when he added in the haul from last night, he doubled it.

  He reached back into the secret pocket and took out a small heavy object bound up in an oily rag. He unwrapped it carefully to reveal his .380 Savage, an old gun and a good friend. He remembered the advertising slogan that had sold him on the gun: ‘ten shots quick.’ He smiled to himself and slid out the magazine. It was empty. He put the pistol on the bed and reached back into the bag. He took out a small box of ammunition and put it on the bed next to the gun.

  Mike got undressed. He let his dirty clothes drop in a pile at his feet. He thought about burning them, but the apartment didn’t have a fireplace. When he was done, he stood naked in the middle of the room and stared out the window. After a second, he picked up he gun, popped out the magazine and loaded it. There was an oversize mirror hanging on the wall above the dresser and he caught a glimpse of himself naked loading the gun.

  When the Savage was loaded, Mike slid it
under his pillow and turned his attention to the pile of clothes he’d dumped on the bed. He pawed through his collection looking for something decent for the street. It didn’t take him long to find his best due to a paucity of choices. He got dressed slowly, wincing every now and then from the pain in his head. When he finished, he looked at the mirror again. He needed a shave and the bump on his head looked ugly poking through his hair.

  Mike stepped out of the apartment and locked the door. The hall was cool and empty. He hadn’t seen a neighbor yet and he liked it that way. He expected to run into someone eventually, but he didn’t want it to be today so he took the back stairs. He hopped down them two at a time.

  Mike strode out the rear of The Ashton and moved quickly through the alley. Back on Wilshire, he headed east toward the closest shops. He decided that a shave and a haircut had to come first. Grooming up a little would help him fit in with the people in the neighborhood. It would help when he went clothes shopping later. Clerks in stores care what you looked like, especially in spots this rich. It didn’t matter how much money you had in your pocket when you walked in. You had to look the part to get the right treatment. Otherwise, they made you for a bum and tossed you. Mike didn’t like getting tossed.

  After a few hundred yards, Mike came to a barbershop and stepped inside. He didn’t have to wait for the clothing store to feel like a bum. Shiny brass, polished wood and sparkling marble floors brought that feeling home. As he stared at himself in the long mirror that lined the wall, a short fat barber stepped through a curtain in the back and waddled up to him.

  “Sir, we don’t open for another half hour.” He started a smile, but stopped it as soon as he got a clear look at Mike’s face.

  “I’d like one now.” Mike took off his hat and hung it on the hat-tree by the door. The barber stood in front of him now. It appeared as if he’d just shaved himself. Mike took a look at the smooth cheeks.

  “Not a nick.” The barber showed off his face a little and flashed a gold tooth. Mike ignored him and slid into the chair. The barber looked at his watch, but thought better of mentioning the time again. Instead, he got to work.