Black Shadows

by Simon Swift

  When we arrived back at Joe's Diner that night there was a whole entourage waiting for us. The usual illegal poker game was making slow progress in the smoker’s corner. Most punters were keeping a watchful eye on the barstool seating Timmy Matthews. Next to Tim sat my faithful secretary Ava Jamieson. They were chatting away quite happily. A bottle of red wine next to Ava on the bar was almost empty. Filling their glasses very attentively, as Joe always is to a visiting officer of the law, was my friend the landlord.

  Before I even managed to get through the door I was accosted by a hack. Investigative reporter for the New York Post and very keen to assess my knowledge of the increasing organized crime in the law. It goes without saying that he was sent packing story-less, but he did leave a card and raised my suspicions of just what he really wanted from me. Why would a Post reporter want the views of a humble New York PI on such a subject? He dropped a few lines about a shadowy organization emerging in the City and the lack of an arrest for the ongoing homicide investigation of detective Dyke Spanner. Maybe he would later be worth twenty cents?

  "Here they are!" announced Joe theatrically, as myself, Claudia and Hermeez walked through the door. "Look who's here Eezy, shall I grab another case of bourbon from the cellar?"

  "Errol," Timmy Matthews cut in, breaking my thoughts of Joe hauling a case of bourbon up from the cellar -the last time he tried he was laid up for a fortnight nursing a sore back. "How about we have a little chat over there?" He pointed to a quiet corner.

  I nodded ushering Claudia to the barstool the other side of Ava. Hermeez had already pounced on Tim's, who hastily grabbed a bottle of Jim Beam from Joe and an extra glass.

  "It's been a while. I thought maybe you'd have called me?" said my barrel-bellied buddy, filling the glasses.

  "You've been in good contact with my secretary." I nodded at Ava across the room, who was guarding Claudia from the amorous clutches of the Diner's regular crowd. "Maybe it's not the proper practice for suspects to fraternize with investigating officers."

  Tim creased his haggard face into a look of hurt. "Come on Errol, don't you start on me already. You've done yourself no favors, no favors at all. Beech isn't happy." He lit up a cigarette and threw me the packet. "You never did do yourself any favors with that son of a bitch."

  "So how's the investigation Tim?" I watched him closely. "Did Weeny Jung Ping kill Dyke?'

  Tim looked worried. He mulled it over and rubbed his forehead uneasily.

  "Errol, listen to me." Suddenly he looked serious. "Really I should take you in for questioning. If it was Beech here and not me you would already have the bracelets on."

  "What's stopping you?"

  Tim sighed. "Do you really need to ask me that?"

  My face softened and I waved for Timmy to continue…

  "I have received an anonymous tip off. Normally we would ignore it, but because of the circumstances I can't."

  "The circumstances being the NYPD's finest haven't got a fuckin' clue who has been going round shooting people."

  Tim smiled at that.

  "What did it say?"

  "It said that one Errol Christopher Black was the accomplice of Weeny Jung Ping in the killing of Dyke Spanner. Ping hit him first and you finished him off, hence the two type of bullet wound we found in Dyke."

  Now I was surprised.

  "It was a male. He refused to give any more details than that but he insisted he had evidence that would lead to conviction, he had a material witness and he would soon be in contact with further instruction."

  I lit another cigarette from the stub of the last one and chuckled.

  "One other thing. It was the same man that put us onto Weeny in the first place. You know I shouldn't really tell you this, Errol. Bullshit aside, I'm trusting you a lot further than I should." He inhaled his cigarette deeply. "When we busted into Ping's shop we found a whole heap of shit in there. Not only weapons, but bomb making equipment, classified papers and the whole deal. Real hard terrorist shit."

  He smiled and downed his bourbon. "I don't know if he whacked Dyke or not. To be quite honest I've got no fuckin' idea. But whether he did or not, he's in, or involved in, something big. I always knew Weeny Jung Ping was involved with the Tongs, hell maybe even a leader but you know the Tongs. They keep themselves to themselves and they get left well alone. Not anymore. This is big. Hell, we've got enough just from the shop to put him down for a long time."

  I looked my friend over. He looked tired, as if he'd been chasing this goose for way too long. "So why are you here Tim, if you're not going to take me in? If you, or Beech's boys think that it's Wang, which incidentally I don't think that you do, then pull the son of a bitch and charge him." I lit up another cigarette and exhaled. "Or do you want me to solve this little thing for you?"

  "Well what the hell have you been doing this or the last few weeks, Errol?" he exploded. "Something to do with Dyke, I know that much. I'm pretty sure you wanna see the killer in the dock just as much as I do. Otherwise, you wouldn't keep sending me firearms and ballistics to test at the lab. To keep you updated the bullets don't match and the last gun you sent me is a no no as well."

  "Maybe not for the killing of Liam Tighe."

  "You know that Liam is dead?"

  "Check the gun Tim, I think you may be pleasantly surprised. Just don't tell Beech it came from me."

  I poured us both another drink. "What is the official version on Liam anyway?"

  "Nothing concrete. To be quite honest with you it's been kept well out of our hands, him living in Mexico and all. The Department naturally assumed it was his own family. That they had eventually caught up with him. You know the Tighe Family have long memories and Liam did take their entire stock of China White."

  There was a short silence between us. Timmy studied me closely, beads of sweat had congregated around his eyebrows. He wiped them with the back of his hand. "And George Ferriby," he said. "Was that you as well, Errol?"

  I said nothing.

  "He was killed with a different weapon to Dyke. Just in case you're interested. Are you?"

  I still said nothing.

  He looked me square in the eyes. "You aint been in the office much lately, Errol. And whatever it is you have been doing, you've been keeping it to yourself." He couldn't help but glimpse over at the lovely Ava as he said it.

  "Oh that's nice," I snorted. "Now you're plying my secretary with drinks. I never thought you would have done that Tim."'

  "Come on Errol, don't give me this bullshit. You know Weeny Ping better than most people. When we find him Beech is gonna cook his ass. Maybe yours too."

  He sighed. "Why don't you tell me where he is?"

  I remained silent, sipping my drink.

  "For God's sake Errol," Tim erupted again, his red cheeks flapping. "I've given you a hell of a lot. Just give me a little back, that's all I ask."

  I looked Tim straight in the eye. He was looking old; old and tired, his eyes sagging, heavy lines underneath. I told him so and he waved his arms irritably.

  "Okay Tim," I said. "Listen to me now. You know better than anyone the way I operate and you're going to have to respect that a little longer. I'm giving you my word right here and now that by the end of the week you will have Dyke Spanner's killer in your cells. With a bit of luck you'll have George Ferriby's also. I'll hand over the murderers personally. Now all you got to do is keep cool and keep smiling." I squeezed Tim's cheek and he pulled away slapping my hand. "In the meantime you try and find Weeny Jung Ping. I don't know where he is I really don't. You try real hard and when you've got him maybe you could give me a call. I'm sure you don't want to see the wrong man go down again."

  "Oh come on Errol, Beech would never..."

  "To hell with Beech. He wants a result more than you do. Different reasons, I grant you, but he needs it and you know it. This is for you Tim, not Beech and not the fuckin' department. It's for you."

  Tim scratched his nose. Studying me intensely before refilling the glasses.
"So you're saying you really don't think Wang killed either of 'em?"

  "I'm saying nothing more," I slapped Tim on the shoulder. "You'll get your plaudits, just let me speak to Wang, you must have some idea where the little yellow bugger's hiding."

  At last Timmy smiled and raised his glass. "Errol, you're as impossible as ever. Cheers!"

  We spent the next couple of hours chewing over old times. Claudia was the only real outsider amongst us, but she fitted in famously and Ava looked after her real swell. I talked briefly to Timmy about the Coward. He appeared to be none the wiser but was happy to listen to what I had to say. When I changed tack and turned the tables he quickly got frustrated by my evasiveness and gave little away.

  I managed to find a moment alone with Ava whilst we waited for Joe to change a barrel.

  "She checked out today," she said, meaning Marcia.

  I nodded letting her continue without interruption.

  "Before she did she was visited by twice. One meets the description I gave of Muchado."

  "And the other?"

  She pursed her well-glossed lips and sighed. "It was Hermeez."

  When the clock chimed twelve times Hermeez escorted a rather drunken Ava home and Timmy Matthews sulkily caught a cab. I informed Joe that I would be taking Claudia to a hotel for the night and he bid us goodnight. I'd booked us a suite at The Hilton.

  The short drive to the hotel didn't take long. Throughout the journey Claudia wouldn't leave me alone - running her hand up and down the inside of my thigh, softly kissing my neck. She was unrecognizable as the timid little girl I thought I knew. Of course, this would usually have been great but I still had a hell of a lot to think about. Despite her magnificent efforts, I still couldn't take my mind off the sealed envelope that was in my pocket.

  I parked up in the basement car park and killed the headlamps. Claudia immediately crawled over from the passenger seat and sat astride me. "Are you gonna take me upstairs and have your wicked way?" she asked, a silly grin plastered all over her drunken face.

  I kissed her passionately on her red painted lips, opened the door and lifted her out. I checked everything over and followed her onto the concrete area.

  "Come on," I said linking her arm. "Let's get you to bed."

  The reception was only a short stroll from the car park but took a good half and hour. Every few steps Claudia would stop, pin me against the nearest pillar and do the most amazing things to me. Letting out a girly giggle whenever somebody walked past, therefore alerting them even if they hadn't noticed. We finally arrived at the entrance and I checked in.

  I looked at Claudia and smiled. The hell with it, the envelope could wait until the morning.

  I put the key in the lock and turned. The door swung open displaying a large, airy room, thickly carpeted in warm maroon with a four-poster bed and a sunken bath.

  Claudia immediately headed for the king size, four-poster bed and began taking up different provocative poses. I took off my shoes and walked over to the large window in the far wall. Looking out through the thick glass there was the most spectacular view over Liberty Island. The statue of Liberty stood commandingly over the floodlit city. I pulled the drapes tightly closed and went through to the bathroom.

  When I returned to the bedroom, I found Claudia curled up on top of the duvet, fast asleep. She had a contented look on her sweet, attractive face. I sat by her side stroking her silky brunette locks for a short while before carefully undressing her down to her underwear. She possessed a lovely petite body, maybe not film star proportions but the curves were in all the right places. Her small, but well shaped breasts looked beautiful in the soft peach cotton enclave of her brassiere. Gently I maneuvered her into a comfortable position and tucked the silk sheets snugly around her. I was just about to reach for the sealed envelope in my inside pocket when the telephone rang.

  "Yeah," I said holding the receiver accusingly.

  "Mr. Black, I have a message that there is a visitor waiting for you in the hotel bar."

  "Ahem, what is the name of my...visitor?" I asked, checking that Claudia had not stirred.

  "I'm afraid I do not know the answer to that, sir. No name was given."

  The line went dead.

  I sighed heavily and slowly lowered the receiver.

  My mind was racing. Could the visitor be Hermeez, or even Timmy? Maybe he'd found something for me. No, they were both half pissed and would definitely have given a name. Maybe it was Coward or at least one of his monkeys - they'd finally caught up with me again. I knew only too well that they eventually would, but was hoping to have everything sewn up by then. So well sewn up in fact that they would have no option but to leave well alone.

  Maybe it was someone else?

  I checked over Claudia once again and locked the door on my way out, leaving the 'Do Not Disturb!' notice hanging. The elevator was empty and a couple of minutes later I found myself in the entrance to the Short Bar. It may have been late but there were people littered all around the large, decidedly un-short bar. Couples chattered away happily, business men in dark suits and groups of drunken people partying. I quickly scanned the tables, but couldn't see either anyone I recognized or anyone on their own.

  I went to the bar and ordered a bourbon. When it arrived, a man sat a couple of barstools down with his back to me. Looking around there was no sign of anything improper so I walked over to the man and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around I almost fainted.

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Stranger in the night

  "The hell you did!" I shouted at the man across the table. "You let me walk right into this whole mess and then left me to it. You didn't give a damn whether I lived or died."

  The bottle of bourbon on the table was taking a battering. Already half-empty in a matter of minutes. We were now sat at a table in a quiet corner of the bar, well out of earshot.

  "Errol, everything I told you was true." He held out his hands. "I just missed things out. I always have and you wouldn't expect anything else, you're just the same. There were things I didn't feel I needed to tell you and there were things I didn't want to tell you. Hell, you know the business we are in. When it came to the crunch I just didn't have any choice."

  "You always have a choice." I shook my head. "I'm sorry, I'm having a little trouble understanding all this. Are you saying you didn't know that I was going to be pinched by the very people I had you protecting me from? Did it take you by surprise? What happened, did you get sloppy, did you have too many drinks and forget all about me? Come on Weeny, I want some answers."

  Weeny Jung Ping's eyes darkened and he fixed a stare on me that despite his raggedness was pure malevolence.

  "I didn't get sloppy," he asserted. "And seeing as you appear to be in the mood for accusations, I did not kill Dyke Spanner or Woo Wang."

  I watched Weeny as he spoke. His initial anger had now subsided. He looked a shadow of the man he used to be. His face thin and gaunt, devoid of any colour. His hair thinning increasingly, and his eyes, they looked dead. He had never been a bulky man, but by his own proportions he looked weak and had visibly lost a lot of weight.

  He inhaled his cigarette deeply, like it was the only lifeline he had.

  "Errol, the truth is that they got to me. They got to me a while ago but I thought I could handle it and so I brushed it off and carried on doing what I have always done. I thought that with you on board we could beat them at their own game."

  "Excuse me, waiter," I shouted at the dumb looking man who was idly collecting glasses. "I want a large pack of Lucky Strikes...please," I added as an afterthought.

  Weeny again began to speak but I waved him down, "What does Coward, we are talking about Coward aren't we?"

  He nodded.

  "What does the son of a bitch have on you?"

  Weeny looked away. "More than you think."

  I said nothing.

  "You know what he wants and you know what he is prepared to do to you to get it. What makes you think h
e isn't doing it to me as well? I am sure you have read it all in the newspapers. Only I don't have the get out of jail free card that you do. All I have to do is to leave well alone, let them get to you and thus to get what they want." He finished one cigarette and quickly lit another. "But I can't do that can I? They killed a dear friend of mine so being what I am I throw it back in their faces and I refuse to cooperate. Only next time, they kill two more and put the squeeze on my whole operation."

  He looked me square in the eyes, like he was pleading an old buddy to throw him a lifejacket. The waiter interrupted with the cigarettes. I lit one up and listened.

  "Even then I didn't leave it. I couldn't could I? I didn't really believe he would fit me up satisfactorily but if he did I was going to fight it."

  "What happened?"

  "Muang. That is what happened."

  Muang was Weeny's youngest sister. He told me how she had recently been seeing a nice young Chinese man. Weeny was protective of all his family and with Muang it was no different but they got on well. He appeared the perfect gentleman and treated her with great respect. Within days, they were spending every waking hour together and Muang had fallen head over heels in love. It all happened so quickly Weeny did not have time to stop it before he realized what was happening.

  "When Muang left home I had no idea what she was getting herself into. She left in the middle of the night leaving me a short note. ‘Don't worry!’ it said but that is exactly what I started to do. I tracked her down and that was when I discovered who it was she was really seeing. It killed me but I did not know what to do."

  "So what changed?" I asked, pretty sure of what the answer would be.

  Weeny talked vaguely of the Coward. Although he hated him deeply I got the feeling he held a grudging respect for him also. Like the old adage honour among thieves, mutual respect amongst gangsters is just as common.

  "He has got no record, if you ask around the local firms you will always get short shrift. Do you remember what it was like at Woodstock? Right in the middle of a piece of prime Tighe territory you still got the feeling that it was Coward running the show. The man is an absolute phantom and a hell of a lot more fearsome as a result.