Windy City Knights

by Michael A. Black

  I paused.

  “The Yoruba can be very, very ruthless,” he said. “They are known as the warrior tribe. It is you who should take care.”

  As we made our way south on the moderately crowded expressway in The Beater, Laurie asked me what it all meant.

  “It’s sort of like a jigsaw puzzle,” I said. “We’ve got a bunch of pieces, but we’re not sure exactly how they fit together yet.”

  “And our next move?”

  I considered that for a moment. I knew I had to contact George and see if he’d come up with anything new on Peeps or Red. I’d also ask him to check out this African connection. But until I had something solid, or a way to start putting all the pieces in order, there was nothing to do but play the waiting game.

  “Sooner or later something will break,” I said, trying to sound positive.

  Her lips compressed into a thin line.

  “You know,” I said slowly, “I told you before that this whole thing might not turn out to be very pretty.”

  “We’ve already turned up such sordid elements,” she said. “What are you asking me, Ron? If I want to keep going?” She turned and looked at me. Her face flashed with intensity. “I have to. Like I said, I have to be able to put Paula’s ghost to rest. Then I’ll figure out what to tell my aunt and uncle.”

  “That’s a pretty heavy burden.”

  “That’s why I’m glad I have you to lean on right now.” She reached out and touched my arm. We rode the rest of the way in silence.

  CHAPTER 26

  It was still early afternoon and I opted for a quick protein shake rather than a heavy meal, knowing that I had to make my workout at Chappie’s. Laurie asked if she could taste it, so I poured her a glass and went in to change clothes. There was no sense wearing my good clothes so they could get further rumpled in the gym locker. I hung up my slacks figuring I might be able to get another day out of them, but my shirt was sodden under the arms. I slipped out of it and my T-shirt, then glanced up and saw Laurie standing in the doorway, looking at me over the rim of the glass. The chalkiness of the protein drink coated the inside of it.

  I turned and smiled. “Did you like it?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It was almost like a milkshake. But it’s all stuff that’s good for you, right?”

  I nodded.

  “You know, you’ve got such great abs,” she said, moving forward. “Could I get abs like that from drinking this stuff?” She held up the glass.

  “Sure, if you throw in about two hundred sit-ups a day,” I said. “But your abs are fine the way they are.”

  “Do you really think so?” She was standing against me now, staring around my shoulder to look at both our reflections in the mirror. “But I really like yours.”

  Her hands roamed over my stomach, then my shoulders. Before I knew it our mouths were locked together and I was pushing her toward the bed, fumbling with her clothes, this time remembering to check in front for the clasp.

  We were still like newlyweds, unable to keep our hands off each other. She seemed to be driven this time, seeking only to please me. Afterward we lay together, tangled in the sheet and under the heavy blanket, our bodies still flushed from the effort. I was silently counting that the fight was now only about seventy-four hours away when she pulled herself on top of my chest.

  “Are you sure it’s going to turn out okay?” she asked me.

  “What? The fight?”

  “No. You know. This thing with you getting hauled in by the cops.”

  “Aww, hell, that was nothing. Besides, George won’t let them railroad me.”

  “I feel like I’ve gotten him in trouble too,” she said. “First you, then him. All because of my stupid cousin. And you’ve both been so nice to me.”

  I put a finger gently over her lips.

  “Ahhh, it’ll be fine. George will come out smelling like a rose after he solves the case, and I’ll be all right.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah. Positive.” I squeezed her slightly.

  She smiled and snuggled close to me. I looked over and glanced at the clock. It was after four. Georgio jumped up on the edge of the bed with an introductory mew, and stared at us. His new protégé, Rags, followed, trying to make the leap, but not being able to. He used his claws to pull himself up. Laurie laughed.

  “They don’t hesitate to intrude, do they?”

  “Only if I interrupt their afternoon nap times,” I said. “But I have to get up pretty soon anyway. I promised Chappie that I’d get in there early for my workout.”

  “Maybe you should tell him you’ve already had yours today,” she said with a smile.

  Laurie declined to go along, saying that she wanted to finish going through all the mail and papers that we’d gotten from Paula’s apartment. And that was okay with me. I silently felt it was best if we didn’t show up at the gym together and face more of Chappie’s rebukes. As I slipped on my coat and grabbed my gym bag, I reminded myself that his admonishments about women weakening legs was just old boxing mythology.

  But when I got to the gym I really began to wonder. I seemed to have a little trouble getting into the rhythm of the workout. Perhaps the only good thing about having a fight coming up is that after you finish all your sparring, the last few days leading up to the match you just do your regular workout. Shadowboxing, bag work, skipping rope…all the things you normally do in addition to the sparring sessions. At this point you’re probably in as good a shape as you’re going to get, and hopefully it’ll be enough. The enemy now was nerves. Thinking about stepping between those ropes and getting it on against another man who was equally well conditioned and intent on knocking your block off. It was always tiptoeing on the edge of your consciousness. Plus, this time the championship was at stake. Possibly my last shot, and I’d pursued it for so long.

  Whether it was a result of nerves or my previous amorous activity, I didn’t feel sharp and fast. The workout dragged along, and after Chappie and I had finally gone through about five rounds with the focus pads, he slapped them together and told me to hit the sauna.

  “You looking good,” he said. “Best I ever seen you.”

  I was surprised he’d said that, but didn’t know if it was what he really felt.

  “Hell, I should be after all this training you’ve put me through.”

  He grinned. “You gonna kick that motherfucking Elijah Day’s ass then?”

  “Damn straight,” I said.

  I sat on the edge of the ring and began stripping off my gloves and pads while I assessed myself. Overall, I did feel pretty confident, but couldn’t help but wonder if Chappie really felt that way too, or if he was just blowing smoke to help me keep the nerves away.

  “I’m worried about that damn Alley,” Chappie said, sitting down next to me.

  “Why?”

  “I took him over to see the doc the other day, but he run out of the office before they could check him,” Chappie said. “Tellin’ me he had to go or something.”

  “Well, he does have a couple of jobs. He’s going to school too.”

  “That’s all fine and good. But I’m still worried about that eye. He need to have that checked out if he gonna be fightin’ for me. And he missed his workout today, too.”

  “Maybe he was too tired.”

  “Or maybe he starting to pick up your bad habits,” Chappie said with a laugh. “Why don’t you see if you can talk some sense into him? I know he look up to you.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I spent about five minutes in the sauna while I pondered things some more. When I got out, I showered quickly and then fished some change out of my pocket and went to the pay phone. I tried George’s home number first. Ellen answered and told me she’d get him.

  “Yeah,” he said, sounding sleepy.

  “What the hell, were you taking a nap?”

  “I guess,” he said. “I just sat down on the couch for a minute and, man, the next thing I know I was drea
ming.”

  “Was it a good one?”

  “Yeah, I dreamed I was kicking Bielmaster’s ass all the way down the hallway.”

  “He give you a hard time when you got back?” I asked.

  “Nah,” George said. “No more than usual. Those pricks from Area Four did call him, though. I owe those bastards. Both of them.”

  “You find out anything?”

  “Let’s see,” he said slowly. “Peeps had no local records out of Illinois. I faxed a copy of his prints to the Feds and told them to expedite.” He chuckled. “I hope my request gets there before Randecki’s.”

  “How about Regis, AKA Red?”

  “Didn’t find nothing solid.”

  “Well, I did some checking too,” I said. I gave him the rundown on Lothar Industries, Trader Horn, and Ganiyu Olijede.

  “Who?” he asked.

  “Ganiyu Olijede.” I spelled it for him.

  “Oh. For a second there I thought you said Elijah Day,” George said. “You know, the guy you’re fighting.”

  “I’m trying not to think about him anymore until Friday night. Can you run some checks on that stuff?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Might be a connection with that clone phone. A lot of Nigerians are into that kind of scam. Let’s meet tomorrow for breakfast and you can give me what you got before I go in. Probably be better than you dropping by the station house since Bielmaster’s got a hair up his ass about all this.”

  “Okay,” I said, then thinking of Alley, added, “I got one more thing.”

  “What’s that, another parking ticket?”

  “No. I wonder if you can run a check on a guy named Smershkevich.”

  “What the hell kind of a name is that?”

  “Russian. Georgian, probably.”

  “Georgian,” he said chuckling. “Ain’t that the place where they used to live to be a hundred years old from eating yogurt?”

  It was good to hear him laugh again.

  “What’s his first name?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “But how many Smershkeviches can there be?”

  “You’d be surprised,” he said. “Anyway, how’s he tied into all this?”

  “Well, he’s not,” I said. “This is a separate matter.” I started to explain about Alley.

  “Jesus H. Christ, Ron,” he said, interrupting me. “We’re working on a homicide, you’re in shit up to your knees, and you want me to waste time checking on some fucking Rooskie?”

  “I think he might be into some kind of extortion scheme with some of the local Russian immigrants,” I said. “I was talking to this priest, and he told me that this guy’s strong-arming people. Might even be using a false name, so he’s probably wanted or something. Maybe, if he used a false name, he’s an illegal alien, or something.”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just got through saying, goddammit?” George said. “We got other priorities right now.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know, but I thought that maybe, if he came up shady, you could call INS.”

  “Nahh,” he said angrily. “You been watching too many movies. Immigration don’t want to mess with no illegals unless they’re gangbangers or into major-league stuff. Drugs, or smuggling, or something.”

  “Okay, then,” I said, “want to meet at Karson’s at seven?”

  He grunted an okay and hung up. I figured maybe I’d better wait until this was over before trying to help Alley and Father Boris. Plus I had the fight to think about. George had a point. There was a danger in spreading yourself too thin.

  I dropped in some more coins and called my house. When Laurie answered, I told her I was on the way back and that I’d stop and pick up some chicken dinners for us. She said that sounded great. I grabbed my stuff, went up front, and said good-bye to Chappie.

  “Remember,” he said. “Get a good night’s sleep.”

  His reproachful stare stayed with me as I walked to The Beater. The phone call with George had set me thinking on things again, but there were still too many pieces of the damn puzzle to sort out. I needed some kind of break and was depending on George to get it for me. Ironically, his ass was on the line too, and he was also depending on me to turn something up. All this and Elijah Day lurking just around the corner. Could any of this have come at a worse time?

  But, I reminded myself, is there ever a good time for bad things to happen?

  I sat in the car and opened one of the two cans of apple/cranberry juice that I’d brought. While I waited for the heater to kick in, I drank the juice in a few long swallows and popped the second one. The temperature had continued to rise, leaving the piles of dirty snow sitting on top of puddles of water. If this kept up, a lot more would melt, which would be good. But then again, with the temperature hovering right around freezing, if another storm blew in, it could mean a lot of snow on top of ice. A dangerous combination.

  I pulled out and looked at the long line of streetlights illuminated in the grayish darkness. The days were starting to get longer now. Noticeably so. Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel after all.

  I went to the drive-up at Brown’s Fried Chicken and got eight pieces and an order of fries, figuring that I could watch Laurie eat the potatoes. In ten minutes I was backing The Beater into the garage and figuring that I was in for the night. When I got inside, Laurie was waiting with two glasses of juice poured and plates and silverware all set up. All three cats had also assembled in a line by the table. Georgio bellowed a deep greeting and looked up at me as I set the bag of chicken on the table. Rags moved forward with a clumsy intrepidity, while Shasha, ever the coquette, brushed against my legs.

  “I was standing on the back porch with a cigarette when I saw your lights,” she said.

  I grinned, thinking that I could get real used to having her around. Except for the smoking. But maybe she could quit again. There were good law schools in Chicago, too, and lots of job opportunities. I started to think about what might happen as opposed to the way things were, and wished I hadn’t.

  But it was time for a reality check, Shade.

  She was a client, and she lived in Michigan, she was in law school, and she was just down here for semester break. Plus she was the little cousin of a girl I once loved, whose parents hated me. And she was just a kid in a lot of ways. Sure, she was a grad student and only about eight years separated us chronologically. But in terms of experience we were light years apart. It was just like Harrison Ford said in one of his old Indiana Jones movies: It wasn’t the years, it was the mileage.

  Who was I fooling? Besides myself? Some major questions still loomed, and I wasn’t sure how it was going to turn out in the end. Nothing to do now but keep moving forward, I thought.

  We ate together and watched Entertainment To night on the small TV in the kitchen. I alternately broke off small pieces of meat and dropped it down to the waiting felines. Georgio and Shasha got most of them, but little Rags did manage to hunch over a few pieces and hiss protectively.

  “Do you always have this audience when you eat?” Laurie asked me, smiling.

  “Only when I have chicken,” I said. “They’re not too big on salads and pasta.”

  When we finished, she wiped her hands and got up first. She went in the other room, brought back three stacks of papers, and set them down on the tabletop.

  “You said you wanted to look over everything, right?” she asked as she was clearing the plates.

  “Yeah.” I wiped my hands on a paper towel and started examining the three stacks.

  “That one is mostly bills,” she said. “And that one’s junk mail stuff. The other’s some things I thought might be important.” I picked up that stack first. “There’s a letter from a bank there saying that the payment for her safety deposit box is due.”

  “We’ll have to try to get a look-see in that,” I said. “We’ll probably need the death certificate.”

  She nodded.

  “What’s this one?”

  “Looked like some kind of storag
e rental fee,” Laurie said, leaning over my shoulder. I felt the warmth of her touch on my neck. “See at the top.”

  It said Security Storage Facility—Twentyfour-Hour Access. The address was in Alsip, which was not too far from the hotel where Laurie had stayed. But something else caught my eye: a set of numbers written in across from the dollar amount. Fourteen twenty-seven. I’d seen them before, I just couldn’t remember where.

  Then it hit me.

  I went to the phone, quickly dialed the hotel, and asked for Marsha. I waited for what seemed like an eternity until her husky tenor voice came on the line.

  “Hi, babe, it’s Ron,” I said. “You still have that key you found taped to the Christmas coaster in the women’s washroom?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “Why?”

  “I might know how it got there. What were the numbers on it?”

  “Just a minute,” she said. I listened to her fumbling through what must have been an assortment of junk in the Lost & Found drawer. “Okay, here it is,” she said, coming back on the line. “Let’s see, fourteen twenty-seven.”

  “Thanks,” I said, looking at Laurie and winking. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  CHAPTER 27

  We parked in back, near the door, and I used my card to enter the locked employee entrance. Laurie asked me if this was the hotel that I normally worked at as we strolled through the back corridor that ran along behind the restaurants and banquet rooms. A couple of house keeping workers nodded a hello to me.

  “Yeah, this is it,” I said, thinking that this was also the place where I’d run into Paula that last night. We went through some swinging doors and entered the main lobby area of the hotel. I steered Laurie toward the piano bar and saw that Kathy was just setting up. She waved to us.

  “Hi, Ron,” she said. “Working to night, or just out having fun?”

  “A little of both,” I said. I introduced her to Laurie.

  “Your singing is great,” Laurie said. “Ron played one of your CDs for me.”

  “Oh, thank you so much,” Kathy said, smiling. “I was just getting ready to start a set. Is there anything in particular you’d like to hear?”