Johnny Black, Soul Chaser: The Complete Series (Johnny Black, Soul Chaser Series)

by JJ Zep

  “Ease up on the attitude there, Chet. I’m doing this as a favor.”

  “A favor to who?”

  “Can’t say, won’t say.”

  “Right that’s it, you’re outa here,” I said pushing him towards the door.

  “Hey, quit pushing,” Jitterbug said, “I got this.” He straightened his tie and hat. “Sure you don’t want to me to stick around, I’m pretty good in a scrap.” He did a little shimmy and threw a couple of punches to illustrate his point.

  “No, Jitterbug, I want you out of here.”

  “We could double date, I know a lady imp in Aurora with an ass you can bounce an apple off.”

  “Jitterbug, go back to hell.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m going. But the boss is not going to like this.” He clicked his heels and disappeared in a puff of greenish smoke that was a touch theatrical I thought.

  After Jitterbug left, I washed up in a basin of cold water and got dressed. I had a bit of time to kill before meeting up with Alice so I decided to give the room a once over, to see if I could find anything that might be helpful in tracking down Fingers.

  Johnny Black was a man of simple tastes it seemed. He loved his clothes and had a closet full of expensive suits, hats and shoes. Other than that, all I found in the room was a couple of dog eared paperbacks and a photograph – Johnny Black and an attractive dark haired woman standing in front of a car, looking like Bonnie and Clyde. On the back of the photograph was scrawled, Johnny and Velma, 1925.

  After checking out the room, I headed downstairs. Sergio either didn’t know, or wouldn’t tell me, where McGinty’s was, so I hailed a cab. “You ain’t a cop are you?” the driver asked when I told him where I needed to go.

  “No, I ain’t no copper.”

  “Cause you know I could get in a lotta trouble taking you to a juice joint.”

  “There’s a ten in it if you take me.”

  “Mister, for ten dollars I’d drive you to Gary, Indiana.”

  The cabbie dropped me on a quiet suburban street. I had no idea where McGinty’s might be but I noticed a couple of guys standing in the shadows of a building on the opposite sidewalk and figured maybe they could give me directions.

  I was halfway across the street when one of the men noticed me coming and nudged the other, who instantly let the cigarette drop from his mouth, stubbed it out on the sidewalk and reached into his coat. The other man stopped him.

  “Hey fellers,” I said.

  “So it is true,” one of the men interrupted.

  “What’s true?”

  “So you ain’t dead after all. You’ve got a lot of nerve showing your face around here, Black.”

  “I know you, guys?”

  “Always the comedian,” the other man said.

  “No seriously fellers, I…”

  “Do you know what Al’s gonna do if he finds you here?”

  “Al?”

  “Oh, now I suppose you don’t know Al Capone, either. You’re a dirty rat, Black.”

  “A ratfink,” the other man confirmed.

  “Look, I was just looking for McGinty’s.”

  “Oh, playing hardball, huh. Okay, go on in and see what happens. This time you won’t slip out of them concrete shoes so easily.”

  “Where is it exactly?”

  “Where’s what?”

  “McGinty’s.”

  “What are you dumb as well as stupid? In the alley where it’s always been.”

  “Always the comedian,” the other man said again and shook his head in disgust.

  I walked into the darkened alley and found a short staircase with a door at the bottom. I knocked on the door.

  “Yeah,” a voice said.

  “I’m looking for McGinty’s?”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “Look, open up, it’s Johnny Black.”

  A panel slid back in the door and a man peered out. “Holy smokes! So it is true. You are alive.”

  “Apparently.”

  “But how? I heard you was feeding the fishes.”

  “Rumors of my demise appear to be greatly exaggerated.”

  “Huh?”

  “Can I come in now?”

  “Look Johnny, I don’t need no trouble, okay. I always thought you was a stand up guy, despite what they’re saying about you, so…”

  “What are they saying about me?”

  “That you’re a dirty, double-crossing ratfink.”

  “I get that a lot. Can I come in now?”

  “Sure, sure. Just no trouble okay?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  The speakeasy was loud and smoky and hot and packed with people. There was a bar counter at one end of the room and a stage at the other where a band was belting out a jazz tune that sounded vaguely familiar. In front of the band there was a dance floor now packed with couples doing the Charleston. Surrounding the dancers was an area fitted out with tables and chairs that was as crowded as the floor. Against the far wall there were a few booths, also occupied.

  Johnny Black was obviously well known in these parts and my entrance caused quite a stir. I noticed people nudging each other and nodding in my direction. One guy stared so hard he poured his cocktail down the front of his shirt.

  I saw Alice standing at the bar and headed in that direction, with the crowd seeming to melt away in front of me. Alice saw me approaching and I gave her the best smile I could muster and got a look of astonishment in return.

  “Hey, honey,” I said, and slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

  “Johnny, what are you doing?” she whispered through gritted teeth.

  “Just picking up where we left off,” I said.

  “How dare you!” Alice said suddenly and slapped me and then tossed her drink in my face. I was just trying to come to terms with this new turn of events when two giant thugs stepped forward.

  “Da boss wants ta see ya,” one of them mumbled and they escorted me, one holding each arm, towards one of the booths at the side of the room. There was a man sitting at the table wearing a large table napkin for a bib. He had the remains of a meal in front of him, a plate piled high with lobster shells. There were bits of lobster on his face and sauce dribbling down his chin. Alice sat tucked in tightly next to him with a sorrowful expression on her face.

  I’d seen pictures of Al Capone before, so I recognized him immediately, but he was even uglier in the flesh. He certainly looked nothing like Robert De Niro.

  eleven

  “You look pretty good for a dead man,” Capone said in an accent that was part Sicily, part Brooklyn. He banged at a lobster claw with a little hammer, scooped up some meat with his hand and swallowed. Alice dabbed at his mouth with the edge of his napkin, then shot me a doleful look.

  “So tell me how you did it?”

  “How I did what?”

  “How’d you get out of them concrete shoes my boys fitted you with? How’d you end up sitting here with me when you should be sleeping with the fishes?” Capone had finished his meal and the table was being cleared. He took a sip from his wine glass.

  “Well”

  “Well what?”

  “How’d you do it?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Just lucky,” he smirked. “You must have more luck than Luciano.” He took another sip from his glass and studied me across the table. He seemed to be running an idea over in his mind.

  Eventually he said, “By rights I should shoot you down right here, like the dirty rat that you are. But I’m in a good mood tonight so I’ll tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna give you a chance to make amends for ratting me out to that creep Moran. Are you listening? Cause this is your last chance. You mess this up and you’re a dead man, Johnny Black.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “I been hearing rumors about this new outfit operating out of the north side. Hear they’re muscling in on Moran territory. Not that that’s a bad thing, but in my business it pays to keep your enemies close.
I want you to infiltrate this outfit, find out what’s going on. Think you can do that?”

  “Whatever you say, Al?”

  Capone shot me a murderous glance, “That’s Mr. Capone, unless you want to get dead again, tough guy.”

  “Sorry Mr. Capone. How will I find these guys?”

  “You won’t have to. They’ll find you. I put the word out on the street you got some dirt on Finnegan, their leader, and are ready to talk to the bulls.”

  “Did you say Finnegan?”

  “Yeah, Fingers Finnegan, slime bag used to mug helpless old ladies, now suddenly he has dreams of greatness. You do this for me, and we’re all square. I forgive you for squealing on me. It’s not like you been spooning with my best girl or anything. Now that would earn you a pair of concrete shoes and a concrete overcoat,” he sniggered and gave Alice a hug.

  One of Capone’s goons approached the table and whispered something in his ear. “I gotta go see a man about a dog,” Capone said. “You stay and beat the gums with Alice here till I get back. Order something to eat, if you like, on me. It’s not every day I get to buy dinner for a dead man.”

  As soon as Capone was out of earshot, Alice said, “Oh Johnny, I can’t stand this any more, we gotta tell him about us, we gotta.”

  “You’re Capone’s girl?”

  “Well, of course I am, that’s how we met, remember? Except not any more Johnny. I’m your girl now and I don’t care who knows it. I love you, Johnny Black!” she said loud enough to draw the attention of several of the patrons.

  “Will you keep it down?” I said, “Do you want to get me killed? Did you miss that part about the concrete overcoat?”

  “I don’t care if you die Johnny, as long as I can die with you. We’ll be like Romeo and Julia.”

  “Believe me,” I said. “Being dead is vastly overrated.”

  twelve

  In the end I managed to convince Alice that confessing her undying love for me would be a bad thing. I also accepted Al’s offer. How could I refuse?

  By the time I left McGinty’s it was way past midnight. Not that it bothered me. I’d been working 24 shifts in the Accounts Receivable department at Hades Correctional for the last 26 months, so sleep deprivation was nothing new.

  I’d been walking for a few blocks when I realized I was being followed. The car kept fifty feet or so back and edged forward slowly, not trying very hard to keep out of sight. I figured it was probably the Finnegan gang, which was good news and bad news. With the word out on the street they were just as likely to kill me outright, as they were to take me alive and try to find out what dirt I had on their boss. On the other hand, if they captured me, it would at least get me close to Fingers.

  I heard the car accelerate suddenly and braced myself, ready to dive for cover at the slightest coaxing. Of course, I still had all five of my allotted lives in place, but I planned to keep it that way.

  The car raced past and then swerved in front of me and mounted the curb, cutting off that avenue of escape. I was about to run back the way I’d come when the passenger door flew open and a woman leapt out and marched towards me.

  “Johnny Black!” she said, “You owe me alimony!”

  She looked vaguely familiar and as she got closer I recognized her. Velma, the woman from the photograph. A man was now getting out of the car behind her. “Sorry Johnny, I told her not to come.”

  “You stay out of this, Frank,” Velma said, “I’m not letting him get away with blowing my alimony money on floosies and hussies and bootleg liquor. They might think you’re the bee’s knees, Mr. Johnny Black, but after two years of marriage I see right through your baloney. Now, cough it up.”

  “Velma, I…”

  “Don’t try to sugar-coat me, Johnny Black. Those days are long gone. I’ve heard of some low-down tricks in my life but faking your own death to get out of paying what’s rightfully mine. Oh, Johnny, how could you? I’ve been worried sick, thinking you may be gone, thinking I’d never see you again. Oh, Johnny.”

  She threw herself into my arms and clung to me sobbing like a jilted teenager. “Don’t cry Velma,” I said stroking her hair, “I’ve got you’re money.”

  “I don’t care about the money,” she sobbed, “I just want my Johnny back!”

  What could I say to that? Johnny Black had obviously led a varied and interesting life, and as someone who’d struggled to get a date for my prom, I was enjoying this little role-play. I could get used to beautiful women throwing themselves at me.

  “Okay Velma,” I said, “I’ll come back to you.”

  Velma stopped sobbing immediately, “You will,” she said, looking up at me with pathetic hope in her eyes. Almost immediately her face dissolved into a caricature of despair, “No, you won’t,” she sobbed pounding at my chest with her fists. “You’re just saying that.”

  “No, no Velma. Ouch, that hurts. Stop that. No Velma, I really will. I just have a small job I need to take care of. Couple of days and I’m all yours.”

  “Really?” Velma said, with a hint of uncertainty now creeping into her voice.

  “Really,” I said. I gave her an earnest nod of the head and that seemed to convince her.

  “Oh, I love you Johnny Black,” she said and threw her arms around my neck. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” She planted a kiss on my face with each word.

  A window slid open in one of the houses across the street. “Hey! Will you keep it down out there? We’re trying to get some sleep in here.”

  “Oh, poo!” Velma shouted back.

  “I’ve called the cops, the man said, “So you’d better clear off!”

  Right on cue I heard a police siren and a patrol car turned the corner and headed towards us. The car pulled to the curb and two officers got out.

  “We were just leaving, officer,” Velma said.

  “Ma’am, please get into your car and drive away,” the officer said. “We have no interest in you. But we do have an arrest warrant here for Mr. Johnny Black.”

  “Why, what’s he done?” Velma said.

  “Passing bad checks and faking his own death to escape his creditors.”

  thirteen

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the late, great, Johnny Black. How’s it feel to be dead Johnny?” I was in the interrogation room in some or other precinct house and the man facing me was a bullnecked cop in a suit that looked way above his pay grade. “Did you really think you were going to get away with this little lark, Black? Did you really think you’d could pull the wool over ol’ Winkie Wilson’s eyes?”

  “You name’s Winkie?” I said, stifling a giggle.

  “You know it is, what of it?”

  “Nothing, just refreshing my memory.”

  “Yeah, well refresh this,” Wilson said and slapped me across the head.

  “”Ouch, that hurt!”

  “There’s plenty more in that locker,” Wilson said. “Now pony up, what you got for me?”

  “What is it you’re expecting, exactly?”

  “Quit messing with me Black, or you’re going to be black and blue.”

  “Seriously, what is it you want to know?”

  “What Mr. Moran paid you for, paid in advance I might add. When’s the next Capone shipment coming in?”

  “Ah, yes that. Well I’m going to need a couple of days on that one.”

  “A couple of days? It’s already been two weeks. Mr. Moran’s not a patient man, Black. Neither am I.”

  “Yes, well it may have escaped your notice, Winkie, that I’ve been kind of dead for most of that time.”

  “In hiding more like. You got half of Chicago looking for you, ex-wives, loan sharks, the south side gangs, the north side gangs, the cops.”

  “You forgot, Mr. Abbaddon.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “Only the second most powerful demon in hell.”

  “Ha dee ha, you slay me, Black. Okay beat it. You got two days. Mr. Moran doesn’t get the information he paid for within two
days and I can’t be held responsible. Oh, and I’d advise you to leave the building by the back entrance. I happened to notice Tony Torrio out front and I know you’re deep in hock to him after your last blow out at Arlington.”

  I took Wilson’s advice and snuck out by the back door. Almost as soon as I walked into the alley a man stepped out from behind a dumpster. He was wearing a cheap suit and a pair of thick horn-rimmed glasses. He carried a battered leather briefcase.

  “Mr. Black?” the man said stepping in front of me.

  “Err, no it’s Dexter Blackwell actually.”

  The man looked momentarily confused and then his face broke into a smile, “Ah, yes,” he said, “I was warned about your infamous sense of humor. My card.”

  I took the card from him. It read, “Hyman Schlitz, Attorney-at-Law.”

  “And what can I do for you today, Mr. Schlitz?”

  “Call me Hymie,” he said, “Everyone does.”

  “And what can I do for you today, Hymie?”

  “It’s more a question of what I can do for you, Mr. Black”

  “How so?”

  “Let’s just say that certain parties whom I represent have a considerable interest in you.”

  “Really? And who would these interested parties be?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Well then, we have nothing to discuss. It was nice meeting you, Hymie.”

  I tried to walk away but Hymie stepped in front of me. “Will you at least listen to my proposal?” he said. “It could be very lucrative for you.”

  “Lucrative how?”

  “How about you could have a whole new life?”

  “A new life? How is that possible?

  “Oh, it’s possible alright. My client…”

  “You’re working for Mr. Abbadon aren’t you?

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Tell you what, Hymie. Why don’t you give me a call when you are at liberty.” I pushed past him and headed for the mouth of the alley.

  “Give me a call if you change your mind,” Hymie called after me. “My number’s on the card.”

  As I headed for the street, I regretted not listening to Hymie’s proposal. I’d just been offered my old life back, and I’d walked away like a tough guy. I was taking this role-play as Johnny Black way too seriously.