False Ransom (Mike Chance series Book 1)

by Ivan Infante

  “Hello, boss, how’s it going?” A voice asked from out of the dark of the garage. The asker pitched his question like someone expert at testing moods. He sounded young and friendly, but that didn’t mean anything. Mike slid his hand into his pocket and gripped the razor.

  “You won’t need that, mister.” A young black kid stepped out of the shadows. His hair was trimmed short, he had big round spectacles, and his coarse jean overalls hung loose on his frame. The kid kept his hands in front of him where Mike could see them. He gripped an oily rag. “You new in the building? My name’s Moses.” The kid affected a grin, but his eyes darted every which way.

  “I just moved in. Name’s Mike.” Mike extended his hand for a shake.

  Moses hesitated, then shook firmly. “Mike? You don’t look like a Mike. You make that up?”

  “Maybe. What’s it to ya?”

  “I woulda done better. I woulda chose Rock or Deakins.”

  “Sure you woulda.” Mike liked this kid.

  “Excuse me!” The voice was loud and came from behind them.

  Moses’ eyes widened. Mike turned and saw Hank at the top of the stairs leading to the back entrance of the Ashton.

  Hank kept talking loud even after he’d gotten their attention. “If you got the free time to stand around talking, boy, you need to get inside to this here lobby and polish the floors.” Hank didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and went back inside.

  “Jesus, he’s been ridin’ me all night.” Moses shook his head in disgust. “The other boy mops the front room in the mornings, but he’s always trying to get me to do it. Keeps me from the cars.” Moses gestured at the garage behind him. “I gotta car that’s gotta be ready in the morning. I can’t do no floor.” Moses pointed at a corner of the garage where he’d set up his operation. He had an old Ford opened up. “Mr. Negri wants that car ready in the morning. He says I’m a wizard when it comes to cars.”

  “I’ll talk to Hank.” Mike said. He didn’t care either way, but there were maybe a hundred units in the building and almost as many cars. This kid probably had keys to every single one of them. Moses could be useful.

  “Tell him the work I’m doing is for you.” Moses smiled.

  “I’ll talk to him.” Mike repeated himself, but this time he glared at Moses and poked him hard in the chest. “But now you owe me.”

  Mike couldn’t let the conversation go without trying to scare the kid a little, but Moses didn’t flinch. Mike took note. He liked this kid a lot. Mike turned away and climbed the stairs to the back entrance.

  Inside, Mike listened for the scuff of Hank’s shoes. He heard them. Hank was almost in the lobby. Mike hurried after him. He hoped to catch Hank in the dark, take him by surprise, and put him out of his misery. Before he could catch up, the light spill from the swinging doors let Mike know he was too late. Hank had made it back to the light. Now Mike had to go into the lobby and talk to the old man. That was unfortunate because another tenant might see him. Then there would be two victims if Mike lost his temper. Mike’s head started to hurt.

  Mike walked through the swinging doors and down a short bright hallway. There were mailboxes in the wall to the right. On the left, pictures of early-days-Wilshire hung oddly spaced. Mike didn’t linger to look at them. When he got to the end of the hall, he stopped and peeked around the corner at the front desk.

  Mike watched as Hank went behind the front desk and dropped himself into a squeaky chair. He had ratcheted the seat up to an abnormal level and he perched up there with a clear view of the lobby. Hank took out his corncob pipe, stuffed it with cheap tobacco, and lit it with a strike-anywhere-match. Mike smelled the blend at a distance. It was terrible. After the old man had taken a few puffs, he spun around in his chair and fiddled with the knobs of a Delco Tombstone that sat on the top shelf behind him.

  Mike slipped his hand into his pocket and gripped the razor. His head really started throbbing. Mike played it all out in his mind. He would walk right out, get as close as he could, and slice the old man open with a sweeping arc of the blade. Then he would watch his problem slump behind the counter and bleed. He would stand over the old man until it was over. He would smile at him. It would just take a few seconds. Who would know? The radio had warmed up while Mike was thinking and loud country music snapped him back to reality.

  Who would know? Benny would know. The little guy had gone through a lot of trouble to set up the Ashton. He even had a girl in the building. Mike held that thought for a minute, then let go of the razor he had in his pocket.

  Behind his desk, Hank got antsy. He spun away from his radio and checked his watch. Mike figured Hank wanted the kid out here mopping the lobby so he’d have someone to boss around.

  Mike came around the corner. He had murder in his voice. “How’s it going, fella?”

  Hank sprang out of his chair. It slid out from under him and hit the shelf behind him with a loud crack. The radio dial shifted and the country crooner turned to static. Mike had his hand balled up in his pocket. It looked like he had a gun. Hank’s eyes snapped into focus and he reached for something under the counter in front of him. When he did, Mike whipped his hand out and flashed an empty palm. His feint had served its purpose. Now Mike knew Hank had a weapon below his desk. Mike figured it for a shotgun.

  Hank decided to play it civil. “Nothing’s going. It’s a slow night. Everything’s quiet. You should know that most of the tenants here in the building are the decent sort who get indoors at a reasonable hour and stay there and keep quiet.” Hank tried to smile, but he only managed a leering rictus grin.

  Mike nodded. “They’re a bunch of square Johns? That’s good to know. It’s nice to have neighbors of a decent sort. I expect you make sure all the new tenants are upstanding characters.”

  “For the most part.” Hank wanted the last word.

  Mike didn’t let him have it. He changed the subject. “Listen, the boy in the garage, Moses?”

  “That’s his name if you feel the need to use it.” Hank answered like he didn’t think the kid’s name mattered.

  “Whatta you call him?” Mike asked.

  “Nigger.” Hank said it loud.

  “Well, Moses has work to do on my car. Can you make sure he gets it done? He’s on it now, but you know how lazy they can be.” Mike thumbed in the general direction of the garage.

  Hank frowned and sat back down in his chair. “Yeah, I’ll make sure it gets done.”

  “Thanks.” Mike headed toward the elevator. Behind him, Hank opened a paper and put his feet up. The old man looked like he had no intention of making sure anything got done. Mike was sure Moses wouldn’t mind.

  Mike opened the iron bars of the elevator cage and got in. He leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. He shook out his match and dropped it on the floor. Mike could see Hank watching him over the top of his paper. After a few puffs, Mike dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out on the carpet. The old man flinched. Mike reached out and pulled down the lever. The car jerked upward.

  The elevator stopped on the seventh floor. Mike slid open the gate and stepped out. The dim interior of the elevator had taken the edge off his headache, but the lighting on his floor brought it back. Mike squinted and covered his eyes with his hand for a bit. The whole goddamn building was too bright.

  Slowly, Mike made his way down the hall. He stopped at each door and listened. When he heard a conversation, he paid attention. He strained to hear the details of the interactions on the other side of the door. He tried to get a handle on who the tenants were and how they spoke. Sometimes, he would mouth phrases he overheard that struck him. Hank was right. There were a lot of tenants at home. It took Mike a long time to get to his apartment. On the way, some of what he heard surprised him. It seemed that what Hank thought about ‘decent folk’ in the building wasn’t quite true.

  Mike crept up to his door. The paper was still jammed in the bottom corner of the frame. No one had entered. Mike unlocked the door, leaned down to get the pa
per and went inside. He closed the door behind him and locked it. It was dark and he didn’t hit the light. He glided through the rooms. He used the ambient light from outside to navigate. At the windows that faced the alley, he stopped and looked at the building across the way. Most of the lights were out over there, so there was nothing for him to see. He moved on to the bedroom. He didn’t undress. He just lay down on the bed. In seconds, he slept.

  A rough shaking snapped Mike out of a dark sleep. He brushed aside the hands that grabbed him and lunged forward to attack. He stopped himself when he saw that it was Benny. Benny backed away from him even after he saw the glimpse of recognition. Benny’s eyes glinted and he was rubbing his hands together. Mike had seen that look before. There was money running around loose somewhere.

  “Come on, I made you some coffee. Drink it down. I’ll tell you the plan on the way.” Benny handed Mike a hot cup of coffee to punctuate the sentence.

  “Damn if you aren’t ready for action. I feel like I only slept for a second.” Mike got up and sat on the edge of the bed. He took the Savage from under his pillow and dropped it in his coat pocket before he took the coffee from his friend.

  Benny disappeared into the kitchen. Mike leaned down to put on his shoes, but then realized he’d never taken them off. By the time he sat back up, Benny was standing in front of him with his own steaming mug of coffee.

  “What’s the word?” Mike asked as he took the drink and sipped it.

  “Doug called. It’s happening now.” Benny spoke low and quick, every word propelled by confidence. “Doug’s going to turn over the ransom at the train station. He’s going straight there from the house on the hill. He’s alone in the car. There’ll be a tail on him, but that shouldn’t matter. When he gets to the station, we’ll be waiting. The phony kidnapper shows up, takes the money and drops off the girl. We do a front and follow until you get a chance to put him down.”

  “What do you mean by put him down?” Mike asked.

  “You know what I mean, so don’t worry about it, I know you’re up for it.”

  “Maybe, but then what?.” Mike would wait a bit before he said no.

  “Doug takes her home and she sits around for a few days waiting to hear from her partner. After a while, she starts crying. As far as she knows, he ditched her and took the money.” Benny grinned large and spread his arms out wide in front of him like he was an onstage presenter.

  Mike emptied his cup and put it on the bedside table, then got out of bed. Benny stood in the doorway with his cup. Mike came over and took it from him. “Why am I killing him? Can’t we just talk sense into him or tie him up for a while?” Mike liked the idea, but Benny was awfully easygoing about the murder and a little too certain that Mike would do it

  Benny didn’t flinch. He looked Mike straight in the eye and spoke slow. “This kid got himself in the middle. You do it fast, you’re doing him a favor. You know they’ll look for him. You know what her old man will do when he finds him. We can’t have him walking around and talking. He goes so we can walk away.” Benny made a sweeping gesture like he was wiping a slate clean. “You know all this.”

  “He goes so we can walk away.” Mike repeated the words. Sometimes he liked to play things a little slow. Benny had a good gauge on many aspects of Mike’s character, but it didn’t hurt to cultivate the appearance of being a little dense. It made the times he leapt into action more disconcerting. “What about Doug? You trust him?” Mike kept up the questions.

  “I don’t have to trust him. What’s he gonna do? He has to kill us to cheat us. You’ve seen him. He’s won’t climb that ladder. He knows he’d never make it to the top.” Benny crouched in the doorway. He had the look of a boxer getting ready to counterpunch.

  “What about his boss? He’ll be worried about us telling his boss. That might make him do something crazy.” Mike finished Benny’s coffee and put the mug on the bedside table next to his own.

  “I figure Doug thinks this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship full of lucrative hustles. I think he trusts us.” Benny answered with a shrug.

  “He might trust us, but we can’t trust him. He’s unstable. You can tell by his waistline.” Mike stepped forward quickly, then stopped short. He was testing Benny’s response to a physical action. Benny backed up fast.

  “Jesus, Mike, I don’t want to bring him in. I think we can use this job as our leverage to keep him away. Isn’t that easier than killing him?” Benny always asked questions that Mike thought had obvious answers. It was disconcerting and nudged him into moments where his mind wandered. Benny noticed and reached out and touched Mike’s shoulder. “It’s easier, right? He’s part of a pretty big operation. They’ll notice him missing.”

  Mike snapped out of it and spoke clearly. “I don’t know if it’s easier. For me, I don’t have to think about a killing after it’s done. You do it one night and it’s over. Keeping him alive, trusting a fat man, that could haunt us forever.” With those words, Mike brushed past Benny and walked into the living room. Whatever happened, they were going to get the money. Mike’s body language made that clear.

  Benny didn’t let it go. “Let’s see how it plays. First you put down this kidnapper, right? Then, we give Doug a chance to play it straight?”

  The second question lingered in the air for a while before Mike answered. By the time he did, they were standing at the front door. “All right, I’ll give the fat man a chance.” He said. Then he took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Benny. Benny picked one out of the pack. Mike struck a match on the wall and lit his cigarette before extending the fire to his partner.

  Benny smiled and reached for the front door knob. “You ready?”

  “Let’s get lucky.” Mike said.

  Benny nodded and opened the door. Mike followed him into the hall.

  They left the Ashton via the back stairs. When they came out into the alley, Moses was waiting for them. He met them halfway.

  “I got’em for ya, Mr. Benny. Just don’t smash’em up.” Moses said.

  Benny reached out and slapped Moses on the back. “Don’t worry, kid. We’ll take care of them. You get them from the old lady?” Benny asked the question as they crossed the threshold into the garage.

  Moses nodded. “They’re Fords, Mrs. Pierce hasn’t driven either one since her husband died. I keep’em runnin’ for her. She pays good.” He pointed at two dusty old Tudor brown sedans parked in the driveway facing out. “The keys are in’em.”

  Benny reached into his jacket pocket and took out five bits. He gave Moses four and slid the fifth back into his pocket. Mike headed for the one parked in front.

  Benny called after him. “Follow me. We’ll park across from the station and give it a looksie.”

  Mike didn’t turn around. He acknowledged Benny with a wave of his hand, opened the car door, and slid behind the wheel. He turned the key and the engine roared. Mike wasn’t surprised at how well the car ran. Moses had the air of a kid who knew his business. He probably made a pretty penny off the old lady and the rest of the suckers in this building. Mike rolled down his window and tossed out his cigarette. The butt bounced off the window of Benny’s car as it drove past Mike and pulled out of the garage. Mike followed close behind as they merged into the flow of traffic on Wilshire and headed east toward downtown and the train station.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Mike drove down 2nd Avenue toward La Grande station. He sat low in his seat and scanned the neighborhood. It was late and there weren’t a lot of other people on the prowl. Mike didn’t see any trouble. Benny’s car was a short distance in front of him. Benny drove onto the sidewalk across the street from the station and parked. He was too close and out in the open. Mike didn’t like it, but it was too late to discuss that kind of detail.

  Mike parked on the sidewalk behind Benny, got out and strolled up to Benny’s window. The little guy stayed behind the wheel. He grabbed a pack of Chesterfield’s off the seat next to him and got one out. Then he leaned
forward and struck a match on the dash. Mike leaned in just as Benny was about to toss the burning match out the window. Benny stopped himself and held onto it. The flame burnt his fingers before it petered out.

  “I don’t suppose you know when he’s coming?” Mike asked as he reached into the car and took Benny’s smoke.

  “You wanna call him, go call him.” Benny got himself another Chesterfield. He struck a second match and lit the smoke in a single smooth motion. This time, he tossed the burnt match at Mike who jumped out of the way.

  “Missed.” Mike said.

  “Next time.” Benny responded.

  “You’re taking this pretty easy.” Mike blew on the tip of the cigarette wedged between his knuckles and watched the cherry flare up a little.

  “Why not? You got the hard part. “I’ll be right here, motor running.” He revved the engine for emphasis. “You better get moving. Go in and take a look around.”

  Mike nodded, stepped off the curb, and headed for the station. A truck rumbled across his path and kicked up a cloud of dust. Mike walked through it. In front of the station, Mike paused and looked up and down the street. He didn’t see a thing. He glanced back at the matching Ford Tudors. The sedans seemed to glare back at him. Mike squinted and made out the glow of Benny’s cigarette behind the windshield. Mike turned back to the station. He stretched out his arms and curled up his fingers like a piano player warming up, then he went inside.