by Wolf Wootan
“Johnnie.”
I looked around. The voice had come from Mona. She was pale and was shaking. I sat down beside her in the booth.
“What do you want, Mona?”
“I . . . I’m cold, Johnnie.”
I put my coat around her. She leaned against me and went sound asleep. Poor little frightened Mona. I looked at Little Caesar. He was like the Rock of Gibraltar. The rain had slackened a bit. It was 11:50. We waited.
* * * * *
Ten minutes can be a long time. I guess it was even longer for Caesar than it was for me. He was the one that was to get it. Even at that, he was taking it better than I was. Everything seemed calm. Little Caesar played solitaire, back to the door. The bartender watched him as he turned the cards slowly. Mona breathed regularly against my chest, soundly sleeping. Only I was nervous. My thoughts rambled. I wondered where Mona lived, and what she was doing mixed up with a gang of murderers. She looked like a nice kid. She hadn’t lived an easy life, I could tell. Just a poor, lonely girl struggling to live in a damned rough world. And Little Caesar — he must have had a mother. Someone to love him, to rock him to sleep when he was a kid. But now look at him. A giant who could rule the world, just sitting there waiting to die by the hand of some gunman.
Outside, a car pulled up to the curb and stopped. My body jerked stiff. I looked at my watch. Midnight. They were on the dot. Psychologically planned, no doubt. I lifted Mona as easily as I could. I tried to lay her on the bench, but as I did so, she grasped sleepily for my neck, pulling me to her. I gently forced her hold off my neck and laid her down. She was still asleep.
I worked fast then. I could hear footsteps coming towards the door. I jerked out my gun and stepped behind the corner of the bar. A gigantic pillar that reached to the roof concealed me from the door. I heard it open. It had a kind of deathlike sound to it. My body tensed. The door shut. My hands were sweating profusely.
Little Caesar laid down his cards and turned slowly around. The bartender had disappeared. Then all hell broke loose. There were at least ten shots fired before I could step from behind my pillar. Mona woke up screaming. There were two men in overcoats standing, one on each side of the door, emptying their guns into Little Caesar.
I shot from the hip as fast as I could shoot. The heavier of the two, the one on the left, went down first. The kid on the right turned his gun on me. I dropped to the floor just in time. A bullet busted the mirror behind me; slivers of glass crashed down on me. His second shot showered me with more broken glass and whiskey as the bottles on the shelf splattered. Then there was a metallic click. I sighed and stood up. His gun was empty. He was slumped in a booth beside the door. The gun slid from his hand, thumped noisily to the floor.
Then I turned my attention to Little Caesar. He was doubled up over the bar. Bloody foam was on his lips. He moved his eyes so he could see me. He smiled a little.
“My boys — they ain’t hurt are they?”
I felt strange all over. I was beginning to understand it all now. They were his boys. His sons. No wonder he didn’t want to hurt them. I looked over at his boys. Mike, at least I guessed it was Mike from Caesar’s earlier descriptions, was lying prone on the floor in a pool of blood. Jess was half sitting, half lying, in the booth, holding his stomach. I looked back at Little Caesar.
“Your boys are O.K., Caesar. There’s nothing to worry about. They’re O.K.”
He seemed contended then. He was gone.
I walked over to Jess and looked at his wounds. He was in bad shape. I didn’t feel sorry for him. Anyone who would kill his father so violently deserved to die the same way.
“Where’s Trigger?” I asked Jess.
He gasped for air, and spoke, “In . . . hospital. Holy Cross. Pa broke his arm in a fight . . . crushed a few ribs.”
“Why’d you want to kill your own father?”
He had trouble answering me.
“He told us to.”
That floored me.
“What do you mean?”
“He taught us all the ropes—everything we ever knew. That’s how he told us to fix double-crossers. We got him—just like he taught us.”
He coughed up some blood. Then he passed out. Mona came up beside me and shuddered. I put my arm around her and led her to the back of the room. I called the cops.
* * * * *
They didn’t ask too many questions. I told them where they could find Trigger. They said the entire gang was wanted for armed robbery, so they had Trigger picked up on that charge. Also for accessory to the murders last July—the ones Caesar committed.
The meat wagon came. They had a hard time loading Little Caesar. After a while they were gone. So were the cops. I was alone then. I put my overcoat on and walked behind the bar. I took a bottle of scotch and put it in my coat pocket. The old boy that owned the joint wouldn’t miss it. I went to the door and opened it, slowly.
It had stopped raining but the gutters were full of water. I could see the estuary. It was still rough. A few rowboats were tied to the dock and were getting knocked together. The fishing boats were gone already. I took one last look at the now dimly-lighted room. I went out.
“Johnnie.”
I turned towards the voice. It was Mona. She stepped out of the shadows. She looked sad and tired.
“Take me with you.”
“Where?”
“Just with you—anywhere.”
I suddenly disliked her. She hadn’t even been there when the cops came. She had slipped out. I shuddered at her cold-bloodedness. Besides, when the cops went through Caesar’s wallet there was only a dollar bill in it, and earlier it had been loaded. The only one who could have taken it was Mona. I despised her. She was mainly responsible for Caesar’s death—in more ways than one.
I turned my back to her and walked down Barbary Street. Out on the bay a fog horn trumpeted a dismal note that floated in over the foggy, turbulent waters.
I went to the edge of the wharf and was sick. Then I went home and got drunk.
# # #
I also write a series of private eye novels that you might enjoy. Crown’s Law, Crown’s Justice, and Crown’s Dilemma are all available at Smashwords, NookBooks, Apple, etc. Check them out at http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/WolfWootan. You can read several reviews on my website at http://www.wolfwootan.com.
Following is a sample 5-star review of Crown’s Law:
Historically, I have not been a big reader of mystery novels. As a career police officer I’ve often found the portrayal of law enforcement to be, at best, inaccurate and unreliable. As a result I haven’t invested much in these types of books. Having read Mr. Wootan’s book, I’ve changed my mind. Not only is this book far more realistic, it’s an outstanding read. It is a genuine page turner, and one of the better books I’ve read in a long time. The book is so well written, the reader can place himself/herself in the shoes of the characters. It mixes suspense with emotion in such a manner that the reader’s attention is never lost.
Mr. Wootan takes the characters and develops them and their relationships extremely well and in a most believable sense. The plot of “Crown’s Law” is also well developed and unusual. The combination of these elements results in an outstanding book. If Mr. Wootan produces additional Sam Crown mysteries, he can count me as a reader. I’ve been sold on your work sir. Well done!
William E. Cooper, Reviewer for Reader Views
