The Bootlegger's Confession
Page 26
“So I took the money. But don’t you see the irony in all of this, my dear Joannie? We take the profits of evil for our own worthy work and, in exchange, we eliminate one of the very perpetrators of this malevolence.”
“That’s a convenient justification for your actions.”
As Vivian and Joannie spoke to each other, Klein and Geller backed up against the shelving. Slowly Klein reached behind him and, with Geller helping him, pulled a crate of liquor forward. Klein looked at Geller and with one tug they brought the crate and the bottles inside crashing to the floor. The sudden noise of glass breaking was enough for Sugarman to push the gun away from his chest and from Vivian’s hand. It fell to the ground. Seeing his opportunity, he lunged at Vivian, sending him reeling backward. Geller meanwhile grabbed Sugarman and dragged him across the floor to where Joannie was cowering behind Jack Smythe’s limp body. With all his strength, Vivian stretched his arm forward, reaching for the gun. His fingers touched the barrel when a boot stomped on it and then kicked the gun away.
Klein stood up as Saergeant Sundell took hold of Reverend Vivian and handcuffed him.
“Sundell, what took you so long?” asked Klein.
“McCreary told me to give you some time to piece everything together.”
“He did? That’s awfully nice of him. I’ll have to thank him!” He looked behind him at Geller who was tightly holding onto Sugarman. “You can take him too. He’s responsible for the murder of Max Roter and for the kidnapping of my daughter.”
Sundell handed Vivian, who was still dazed, to one of his men and he took Sugarman from Geller. He tossed another pair of handcuffs to Klein. “Be my guest.”
“With pleasure.” Klein twisted Sugarman’s arms and slapped the handcuffs on him.
“You think you’ve won, Klein. You’ve won nothing. I have lawyers. You have no case.”
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough. But I can tell you one thing: Irv Rosen might want to find himself a new partner.”
25
Saul Sugarman was right. His high-priced team of lawyers led by Graham Powers were skilled enough to convince a jury that Sugarman should not be hanged. For his direct involvement in the murder of Max Roter and the kidnapping of Bernice Klein, he was sentenced to twenty-five years at a federal penitentiary with the possibility of parole to be determined at a later date.
Curiously, Klein was ambivalent about Sugarman escaping the noose. The thought of him rotting away in a tiny cell for the next two decades was, in Klein’s view, just punishment for the turmoil and pain he had inflicted. Sarah, so thankful to have Bernice back, never uttered Saul Sugarman’s name again.
But she did spend many days and evenings reflecting on what had transpired and how she had allowed herself to be ensnared by someone so deceitful as Sugarman. It had led to the kidnapping of her precious daughter. She shuddered at the thought of what might have been. And it had almost cost her marriage and a life with the only man she ever loved. She was deeply troubled by her actions and promised herself that she would be stronger in the future. She owed that and more to Sam and her children.
Three weeks after the events in Vera, Lou Sugarman finally woke up and soon fully recovered. He admitted to Klein that he had known what Saul and Rosen had been scheming, yet had absolutely no idea that his brother was behind Max’s death. It was too shocking for him and Rae to contemplate that Saul had also manipulated Jack Smythe into kidnapping Bernice. Lou speculated that Saul had encouraged him to hire Klein in the first place to investigate Max’s murder so that Klein would be busy and distracted. Still, his obsession with Sarah was difficult to comprehend.
Lou did make one significant decision. With the sole power, now, to run the Sugarmans’ operation, he sold the family’s liquor interests for a sizable amount to a Toronto distillery. And almost overnight, the Sugarmans were no longer supplying bootleg liquor to the likes of Irv Rosen and Vinny Piccolo. Instead, Rae decided to reopen the general store and run it on her own.
Lou soon heard that the two gangsters had negotiated a peace agreement and the booze war and killings stopped, at least for a time. After everything that had transpired in Winnipeg and Vera, Rosen changed his mind. He had come to the conclusion that enforcing a bootleg monopoly was next to impossible and could only lead to more unnecessary violence and bloodshed. Everyone knew that prohibition in the United States contributed to police and political corruption and encouraged thousands, if not millions, of Americans to break the law. From Rosen’s distorted perspective, selling bootleg booze was the most lucrative business opportunity he could have ever imagined.
That’s why Reverend John Vivian had been fighting such a losing battle. Yes, before he, too, was corrupted by Piccolo, he had echoed the sincere sentiments of generations of “drys”—moral reformers who saw in liquor only exploitation and abuse. But in 1922, it was already clear that prohibiting Americans from drinking spirits and beer would only make them want the booze more. Enforcing such an unenforceable law was already a nightmare. The only workable solution was what Manitoba and a few other provinces soon came up with: government control and the promotion of moderate drinking. In the summer of 1922, the details still had to be hammered out but even someone as skeptical as Klein thought this was the right approach to take, though the prospect of a group of politicians and bureaucrats devising regulations for the proper consumption of liquor concerned him and a lot of Manitobans.
At the same time, there was much sympathy for Reverend Vivian. The evidence proving his collusion with Piccolo was inconclusive and testimony by Joannie Smythe, George Dickens, and Adam Cole was unconvincing. They were dismissed as disgruntled and disillusioned disciples. The Crown failed, too, to convict Vivian on the charge of threatening Saul Sugarman with a weapon. He marched out of the law courts on Broadway a free man, promising to continue the battle against liquor and immorality.
Joannie Smythe, who left Vera to live with her sister in Toronto, did not doubt him. Klein made a point of being at the railway station to see her off and wish her well. “Jack was not a wicked man,” she had told Klein, “only a troubled and misguided soul.”
Klein also bid farewell to Hannah Nash, who, once the case was wrapped up, returned to Calgary to continue the fight against bootlegging along the Alberta-Montana border—as futile as that might prove to be. Before she left, Allard and McCreary even hosted a dinner in her honour that Klein had attended. No one on the force had ever witnessed such a gesture from McCreary, but he took the ribbing in good humour. He assured everyone that his respect for Mrs. Nash’s skills as a policewoman in no way meant he had changed his attitude about immigrants, women, prostitution, or any other social problem. And funnily enough, no one questioned that declaration.
There was a connection between Klein and Hannah. Both of them felt it, but neither of them addressed it. Some things were definitely best left unsaid. What had happened between them three years earlier was a fleeting moment to be remembered but not acted upon. If anything, the last few weeks had shown that Klein’s life was with Sarah and his children and Hannah could not have been happier for him.
Before the end of the summer, there were two wedding proposals. Lou Sugarman asked Rivka to marry him and Alec Geller finally worked up the courage to ask Shayna Kravetz to be his wife. Klein was to be Alec’s best man and soon Sarah was immersed with both Rivka and Shayna in wedding plans.
One evening in August, Klein sat on the steps of his house, having a cigarette, watching his three children play, and glancing at the newspaper. A story on the third page of that day’s Tribune caught his eye.
Frankie Taylor, who provided testimony in the recent trial of Saul Sugarman in exchange for a more lenient sentence in his own trial of attempted murder, was discovered dead in his cell last night at Kingston Penitentiary. Taylor had been transferred to the Ontario institution as part of his plea deal. Prison guards questioned said they have no idea yet as to what
had caused Taylor’s death.
That had to be the work of Rosen and Katz, thought Klein as he re-read the article. They probably paid off a few guards. No one crossed Rosen and lived to talk about it.
“Shailek, you have a funny look on your face. What are you reading?” asked Sarah, sitting down beside him.
“Nothing important. Look how much fun they’re having. Honestly, I don’t know what I would’ve done or how I would’ve survived if something had happened to Niecee.”
Sarah interlocked her arms with his. “But she came back safe and that’s all that matters. Besides, deep down, I had faith that you’d get me through the ordeal. Like you always have, like you always will.”
“I know you won’t use his name and don’t want to speak of this, but greed was Saul’s undoing. He had an appetite for money, and for you, which could never be satisfied. In many ways, he’s a more tragic figure than Jack Smythe.”
“Well, as you say, I’m not going to talk about it. But there’s something I should probably tell you,” she said with a grin.
“What is it?” he laughed.
“Let’s see … if it’s a boy, I think we should call him Daniel, and if it’s a girl, Sharon. I always liked that name. So say something,” said Sarah, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
Sam Klein was momentarily speechless. After a minute or two, he stood up and kissed Sarah. “All I can say is, thank God there’s no prohibition here because I really need a stiff shot of whisky.”
Acknowledgements
It had been my intention for many years to reboot the Sam Klein Mystery series. For making this possible, I would like to thank Jamis Paulson and Sharon Caseburg of Turnstone Press. Both were enthusiastic about this new Klein adventure from the start. Sharon, as the editor of the novel, was an enormous help in particular in shaping and improving the manuscript. And Sarah Ens of Turnstone did a great job as copyeditor.
Thanks also to Hilary McMahon, my stellar agent and friend for her continued support. I am most grateful to my wife, Angie, who once again was my sounding board and offered excellent advice about all aspects of the novel, as well as for the support from our expanding family: Alexander and Shannon and their precious daughter, Liliana, and Mia and Geoff.
In this Klein story, as in the previous ones, I have used the names of my mother, Bernice, and her parents and siblings as the names of the main and very fictional characters. It is fitting, therefore, that this book is dedicated to my mother. Recently, she has been through a terrible health ordeal. Yet, she has faced this adversity with great courage and good humour that I and everyone in my extended family can only admire.
Allan Levine
Winnipeg, August, 2016
Allan Levine is an award-winning internationally selling author and historian based in Winnipeg. He has written thirteen books including the Sam Klein historical mystery trilogy. Winner of the Alexander Kennedy Isbister Award for Non-Fiction, the McNally Robinson Book of the Year, the Best History Book Award at the Canadian Jewish Book Awards, and the co-winner of the JI Segal Prize in Canadian Jewish History. His most recent books are: King: William Lyon Mackenzie King: A Life Guided by the Hand of Destiny (2011) and Toronto: Biography of a City (2014). A freelance writer since the early 1980s, his work has appeared in the Globe and Mail, Maclean’s,Toronto Star, the National Post, and Saturday Night. A columnist for the Winnipeg Free Press since 2010, he explains the history behind current events.
Table of Contents
The Bootlegger's Confession
© Allan Levine 2016
Dedication
Author’s Note
The Bootlegger’s Confession
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
Acknowledgements
About Allan Levine
Landmarks
Cover