The boat got neglected in favor of wedding planning and the next morning I apologized to Smitty for the delay. His response brought me up short.
“Don’t worry about the boat. First the wedding, then the honeymoon and then the boat. I panicked.
“Oh my god, Smitty. A honeymoon! I clean forgot about a honeymoon! What’ll I do?”
“Casey, my boy, would you trust me to handle that for you?”
“But, Smitty, I’m broke! The engagement ring took all my savings. I never expected all this to happen so soon.”
“Yeah, I know – you and me both. But Josie and you are gonna have a nice wedding and nice honeymoon. When you get back, we’ll work on the future.”
In spite of his upbeat attitude toward my problems, I could see that something was still eating away at Smitty.
“Something else bothering you?” I asked
“Yeah, but nothing you can do about it. It’s that god damn Horning, again”
“Horning?”
“Sergeant Horning, one of Oakland’s finest? Remember?”
“I’d hoped to not hear anything about him for a while.”
“Son of a bitch doesn’t have the slightest idea that we’ve solved his murder case, and I don’t see any way of telling him. Now he’s gone and convinced some judge,” he paused for a moment, “he’s got a murder warrant out for my arrest.”
“No way!” I was flabbergasted. “No way can he prove that. There has to be a way we can get rid of him.”
“Sure, given enough time. But you know what I just found out that rotten, good-for-nothin’ S.O.B.’s planning on doin? He’s plannin’ on waiting to the last minute to get a warrant and then serve the warrant on me at your wedding. One of my old buddies at the station said he’d been bragging about his plan. He said there was no way I could stop him ‘cause he wasn’t getting the warrant until Sunday morning. The prick must have some judge in his pocket. And then he’s gonna haul me away right in front of Josie’s eyes! What a shit!”
CHAPTER 82
“Jesus Christ, Smitty. That’ll ruin the wedding for everybody – and you in particular. We gotta do something!”
“Yeah, but what? I called an attorney friend and he said there’s nothing he can do until there’s a warrant.”
“I wonder if Chief O’Meara could help. He knows the score. Maybe he could talk to the Oakland chief? It’s worth a try, right?”
“Can you call him? We got a call back from his wife saying they’re coming to the wedding. Maybe you can pull one of your famous stunts and get me out of this mess. And for chrissake Casey don’t tell Josie!”
I called the chief and brought him up to date on Sergeant Horning’s plan. He asked me a lot of questions about the long-lasting relationship between Smitty and his nemesis the sergeant. Finally he said, “Give me a day or two. I’ll see what I can do.”
I left it at that, crossed my fingers, then set to work trying to come up with a whole alphabet of fallback plans. There had to be some way to stop Horning in his tracks. I even went so far as to conjecture one of our gang breaking Horning’s leg if the Chief couldn’t come up with something. Anything to keep him from spoiling Josie’s day.
Thursday morning started out like any other day. I was in my apartment, planning a rather quiet day – perhaps the last day I’d ever have to myself before getting married –
I was still worrying about Sergeant Horning and hadn’t giving up on the idea of breaking his leg, although I hadn’t told any of the gang about that, they’d be much too likely just to make it happen.
The phone interrupted my planning.
“Case, its Nips. We’re gonna pick you up around two this afternoon. The gang’s got something special planned”
“What’s going on?”
“Nothin’ to worry about just be ready at two.”
I spent the whole morning worrying. No telling what the gang had planned for me, but I couldn’t say no.
As it turned out, it wasn’t too bad. They took me to the warehouse, plied me with beer and told me stories about their past escapades. The stories got wilder and wilder and they kept giving me beer after beer. I’m pretty sure they were giving me boilermakers, not plain beer. It gradually dawned on me their goal was to get me blind drunk. They didn’t know I can’t drink beer after beer. Consequently a couple of nearby potted plants probably got blind drunk. I didn’t.
The gang was having a blast. I was too. This was turning out to be one of the parties that Josie’d warned me about. The guys don’t know when to quit. So far, so good. Some happy beer drunks, nothing to worry about. A couple of the guys from Sacramento were there along with Little George.
The party got more and more raucous and I was just thinking they wouldn’t miss me at all if I slipped out when I saw Little George headed towards me.
Looking around to make sure he wasn’t overheard, he said, “Meet me in the head.”
“What’s going on?”
“Big trouble. We need to talk, now!”
I walked to the head, Little George right behind me.
Little George locked the door behind him very, very carefully, the way a drunk does. With exaggerated movements. Putting his finger to his lips, he said, “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. I’m only doing it because I’m worried about Smitty.”
“Smitty’s okay,” I said. “Except for that damn sergeant”
“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m worried about what’s going on in Sacramento.”
“Sacramento? What’s going on up there?”
“I think your guys and a couple of my guys are out of control. I heard they’ve planted a bunch of evidence in the senator’s car and they’re gonna set the guy up for a fatal car accident tonight. They don’t care what Smitty ordered. They just want to avenge Red.”
“Oh, man. This isnot good,” I said.
“Got that right. If they do it, Smitty’s gonna be wicked pissed. On top of that, I don’t trust these guys to get away with it. If they get caught, the whole thing may get laid on Smitty. Look, I’m caught between a rock and a hard place here. I think Smitty should know, but I don’t want to rat on my guys. That’s why I’m telling you. Now I’m out of it.”
Oh, great. With that, he unlocked the door and started out, only to be pushed back in by Gus.
“Did you tell him?” he demanded of Little George.
“Yeah, I told him the same thing I told you. Now it’s up to you guys.” And he left.
“What do you think?” Gus wanted to know.
“I think we gotta stop them, for Smitty’s sake. Don’t you?” I replied.
“Yeah. But how?” he asked.
“Don’t ask me. But I think we need to get up there ASAP, and try and get control of the situation. Maybe we’ll get an idea on the way.”
He deliberated for a moment, then, “Motorcycles the fastest way. As soon as Little George told me what was going on up there, I quit drinking. If you’re up to it, we can double up on my bike and get up there in an hour easy. Trouble is I don’t know where our guys are hanging out up there. Do you?”
“No, but I bet Little George does. Is your bike here? What’ll I do about a jacket and helmet?”
“Yeah, my bike’s here. I’ll check with Little George and find out where they’re hanging out. I’ll tell him to tell the gang you can’t hold your booze. You’re sick and I’m taking you home. Wait here. I’ll be right back. While you’re waiting, find a jacket and helmet from that pile over there. A couple of the guys are about your size. Lord knows, they won’t miss them for hours!”
In a short time we were mounted up. For an old guy, Gus really tore up the ground. Up Highway 80, over the Carquinez Bridge, he wove his way through rush-hour traffic until we were nearing Sacramento, covering the distance in about fifty minutes. It was almost six o’clock.
From what Little George had told Gus, the senator had taken to stopping at a particular bar and getting well lubricated each night on the way home. Each
night he stayed a little longer, as if he was afraid to go home. The guys’d been cozying up to the senator, setting him up for tonight’s operation. Little George had told Gus that the guys weren’t planning to do anything until after dark, so we thought we were in time.If Gus could find the bar. We knew the name, Oasis Bar.
“I think I can find it. It was in the south end of town and was on an alphabet street. Like A or B or something. C? I just hope we’re not too late!”
We roared up and down alphabet streets looking for the bar.
CHAPTER 83
It took us a little over a half hour to find the place. When we walked in the first thing we saw was the senator sitting at the bar. His suit was rumpled; tie loose and hanging to one side, the man was the picture of dejection. Several empty glasses before him. Unkempt, unfocused, a total loser.
Over in the corner, surrounding a pool table, I spotted the cycle gang. Four of them, two from our gang and two from Little George’s gang. I remembered that Smitty had told his four guys to take turns watching the senator, two by two. Why were the other two guys here? Gus and I casually wandered over to them and asked, “What’s going on?”
They were shocked to see us. One of them replied somewhat belligerently, “Just keeping an eye on the senator, like we’re supposed to. We keep sending drinks over for him and he keeps drinking ’em.”
“Every night?”
“Yep. Same thing, every night.”
“How does he get home?”
“Believe it or not, he drives! Guy must have a hollow leg. One of these nights he’s not gonna make it. They’ll find him drowned in that ditch out by his place or something.”
“You guys wouldn’t be planning on helping that happen, would you?” I asked.
Gus and I’d devised a skimpy plan on the way up. This was Step Numero Uno.
The same guy pretended to be outraged at that idea. He was a lousy actor.
I told them about the bachelor party and they all griped that they’d missed it.
“Well that’s what Smitty was thinking too. You guys, stuck up here and missing all the fun. From what we’ve heard, the senator’s mostly blind drunk and hasn’t been able to get at his money or buy an illegal passport. He ain’t going anywhere, just waiting for the other shoe to fall.”
“That’s about right!”
“Well, Smitty and Little George want you guys to hightail it down to Oakland and get in on some of the fun. There’s nothing for Gus and me to do before the wedding except the rehearsal and the dinner Saturday night. I think Smitty really wanted to get me out of his hair for a couple of days.”
The two guys up from Oakland didn’t know what to say. They looked at each other for a moment or two, then finally one of them said, “Geez, we had something sort of planned. Hang on a sec.” They walked to the end of the bar and huddled. One turned to me and said, “He wants all of us to quit watching the senator?”
“That’s right. Gus and I’ll keep a loose eye on him until Saturday morning and then we’ll just leave him. Like Smitty said, ‘He ain’t going anywhere! Besides, Little George and Smitty said I needed some going-away clothes and they got Gus to volunteer to outfit me at a place Little George recommended up here.”
“Oh yeah, we know the place. Over on D Street. Great store! Listen, with Gus being the dandy he is and goin’ to that store, you’re in for a treat!”
“Plus you guys are all going formal. So you two have appointments at the tailor’s tomorrow morning.”
The other two wanted to know where the party was. Our guys said, “follow us,” and they left.
“Whew!” “Now we gotta phone Little George and bring him up to date. He better intercept them before they see Smitty. Smitty’d smell a rat, for sure!”
Part one of our plan worked. On to Part Two.
Gus and I grabbed a booth and watched the senator. He was really sloshed. I couldn’t see how he could drive home. “How do you want to handle the next part?” Gus said.
“I think we need to sober him up some first. He’s not gonna understand anything we say, drunk as he is now.”
“Let’s slip the bartender a hundred and get him to cut the senator off,” Gus suggested. “He can tell him that under the law he’s responsible if he lets a customer leave drunk and the customer gets in an accident. I think that’s true anyway. Get him to start servin’ him coffee. That’ll keep us out of it until we make our move.”
It took almost an hour, but eventually the senator seemed a little more coherent. It was time to make our move.
“Gus, I think you better make the first contact. You’re older and more believable than me.”
“Yeah, I’m older, but it’s your idea!”
“Doesn’t matter whose idea it is. I think you’re the man for the job right now.”
“Okay. Here goes!”
Gus wandered over and sat on the stool next to the senator. We’d bribed the bartender to spend his time at the other end of the bar. Gus and the senator were all alone.
The bartender had told us, “He’s a mean drunk. Senator or not, no more booze for him.”
Gus could hear Goldberg mumbling under his breath. “Son of a bitch’s got no right to cut me off, I’ll have his job.”
“Senator,” Gus said, leaning over to make it feel like he was confiding in the man, “it wasn’t the bartender’s idea to cut you off. It was ours.”
His answer was slurred. “What the hell you talking about?”
“I said it was us that had the bartender start serving you coffee instead of booze, ’bout an hour ago.”
“Well, tell him to start the booze again! I’ll have his license and yours too.”
“No you won’t. I’m trying to save your life.”
“Too late,” he said belligerently, and tried to push away. He was still a little sloshed.
“Did you happen to see those four guys leave a little while ago, those guys who’d been buying you drinks?”
“Yeah. They were buying me drinks. Nice guys.”
“Nope. Not so nice. They were planning on killing you tonight.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope, and I can prove it.”
“Kill me? Here in a public bar? What’re you trying to pull?”
“Stop and think about what you’re saying, Senator,” Gus said, sounding like he was trying to explain something to a two-year-old. “Really, would I try to sober you up if I was trying to pull something on you?” The senator appeared to be trying very hard to follow the logic, but he seemed to be getting tripped up by so many words.
Finally he gave up and yelled to the bartender who was busy drying glasses at the other end of the bar. The bartender made it clear he was listening, but that he wasn’t coming back up to the senator’s end. Frustrated, the senator had no choice but to yell. “Bartender! Is what this guy’s saying true? Did he get you to cut me off?”
“Yep, Mr. Senator, he did.”
Goldberg turned back to Gus. Slowly and drunkenly he said, “Okay, say I believe you so far. How can you prove they were trying to kill me?”
“Simple. Let’s me and my friend take a stroll with you to your car and we’ll show you what they had planned.” He pointed me out to the senator. I waved a cheerful, innocent hello.
The senator looked back at Gus and still slurring his words “I should go with you two to my car? Whaddya’ think I am, some sorta’ nut? Leave here alone with two strangers after you’ve been talking about me getting murdered?”
“For Christ’s sake senator, you got the bartender watching the whole thing. He’ll vouch for us.”
“Will do,” agreed the bartender with a shrug.
Countless cups of coffee later together with the shock of being told he was being targeted for murder seem to have at least partially sobered him up. He finally agreed to go out to his car with us.
“I got to’ pee first,” Goldberg said. Gus went with him to make sure he didn’t pass out or try to get out.
After that the three of us walked out to his car. Before any car doors were opened, I pointed out a pile of papers on the back seat. “Were those there when you left your office to come over here?” I asked him.
The senator blinked several times, then finally, reluctantly, said no.
“Let’s get in and talk,” I said.
Goldberg got in behind the wheel. Gus sat in the front passenger seat. I sat in the rear. And there were all the papers the gang had planted, on the seat beside me, just like I’d expected. Now all I needed to know was if the really damning ones were among them.
Gus told me to pass the papers up front to him. One by one, I handed them to him, and one by one he started handing them over to the senator. “Recognize this?” he asked as he put the first one in Goldberg’s hand. “Or this? Orthis? Surely you recognizethisone.”
“Where the hell’s you get hold of all these?” Goldberg blustered, turning redder with each new page.
“On the back seat, just where you saw us find them.”
“Who put ’em there?”
“The four guys we got rid of. Their plan was to force your car off the road and make sure you died in the wreck. When the police found you and the papers, you’d be dead and your reputation would be deader.”
“Tonight?”
“That was their plan.”
“So what areyou gonna do? Can I have my papers and go?”
“Good god, man, no!” Gus laughed. While he laughed, I quietly sorted through the rest. The guys had done their homework – the absolute worst was there. I shuffled it to the bottom of the stack.
“We keep the papers,” Gus said as I finished up my reorganizing. “But we’re not gonna kill you. We can’t save your reputation, but we can save your life. When these papers go public, there’s nothing nobody can do to save your political hide. As they say, you’re toast.”
“But we have an offer,” I spoke up. “If you don’t take it, those guys’ll be back, buying you drinks, and you get killed. Your choice.”
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