“Sounds like a heck of a story,” the reporter noted.
“Yeah,” Hammer snapped, “but I don’t have enough days left to even share the highlights. I mean, I know who was behind the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre and that is just the beginning. I could finger a dozen respectable men who had their competition rubbed out.” He pointed his hand toward his guests. “And I’m not bragging. I mean, why would I brag about something that I’m now ashamed of? When you know you’re dying, when you realize the next breath might be the last, you spend a lot of time thinking about the way things should have been . . .” His voice trailed off and his eyes grew misty. After taking a deep breath, he whispered, “I’m not a nice man.”
“No one’s perfect,” Tiffany offered, all the while knowing her observation was lame at best.
Hammer looked up, pointed a finger at his chest, and sadly shook his head. “I have a ton of excuses I could use for ending up this way. My dad died when I was five, my mom became a prostitute and was never home. I quit school when I was twelve. I fell in with a bad crowd. Yet, they’re still all excuses. I had a lot of friends who had it just as bad as I did and they didn’t go down the streets I traveled.” He paused, looked to his right at some change on the lamp table before reaching over and running his fingers over it. Picking up a dime, he held it up between his thumb and index finger and posed a question. “Did you ever have a hundred bill?”
“I’ve had a few,” Garner admitted.
“Did you hang onto them for a while?” the old man asked. “Or did you spend them as soon as you got them?”
“I always hung onto them just as long as I could,” the investigator admitted. “In fact, I have one in my billfold right now that I’ve been carrying for about a year.”
“What happens when you break it?” Hammer asked. “Do you hold onto the twenties, tens, fives, and ones like you did the C-note?”
“No,” Garner admitted, “they’re easy to spend. They don’t last any time at all.”
Hammer nodded. “I’ve found that’s the way it is with virtue. You hang onto it, you cherish it, and then some little thing, something you really want, tempts you enough to break it. Once you have crossed that line it is easier to step over it again and do the second wrong thing. That leads to others and soon you have traveled so deeply into the darkness you cannot even begin to see the light, much less find your way back to it. You do know that most folks who get lost in the darkness stay there.”
“That sounds like a sermon,” Tiffany suggested.
The dying man chuckled, “Sinners always give the best sermons. Believe me, I know that for a fact. You see, I’ve spent most of my life in their company.” He took a deep breath before dragging his thoughts back to why he’d allowed the two to enter his home. “Now, why after all this time do you want to talk to me about the candy maker? I mean, we can’t bring Lewandowski back from the grave, so what difference does it make now?”
“How did you know it was that case?” Tiffany asked.
“I’m pretty good at both math and reading between the lines,” he replied. “It just added up. There is the year, the location, and the fact an innocent man paid for the crime. I mean, that’s really why I let you in.”
After glancing over to the reporter, Garner chimed in. “We need to know some of the history, because it might make a lot of difference right now. There have been three murders in the past few days, and we think they are all tied to what happened all those years ago.”
“Who’s been killed, and what makes you think they are tied to ancient history?”
Tiffany cut in, “A retired gunsmith, Royal Ogden; a retired cop named Saunders; and the district attorney, Ethan Elrod. Do those names mean anything to you?”
“Interesting combination,” Hammer said, “but I don’t really know how they tie together with what happened in the grocery back in ’26.” Perhaps sensing he was safe, the old man pulled the Colt from beneath the blanket covering his lap and set the black gun on the table. He then rubbed his smooth chin before saying, “Saunders I get, he discovered Lewandowski in the store, but Ogden and Elrod don’t fit. Back then Ogden was nothing more than a guy who fixed guns, he didn’t even own a shop yet, and Elrod was just a young man on his way up when all that happened.”
The reporter reached into her purse and pulled out the file they’d found in the globe. Pushing off the soft couch, she took four steps across the room and handed the folder to the old man. She waited in front of the chair as he glanced through the photos.
“Al was never a man who took good pictures,” he cracked. “The fact he was fat and had a scar didn’t help. Ah, but the ladies loved him. That’s what money and power do for a man,” Hammer looked up at Tiffany and smiled, “they always make a man so much better looking. Heck, if I was rich, I’d have dozens of people catering to my every need right now.” He frowned, “But breaking hundreds got to be a habit with me. I threw away money as easily as I tossed away my life.”
“What about the other man in the photos?” the reporter asked.
“Is Ben Jacobs on the hit list as well?” Hammer asked as he closed the file and handed it back to the woman. “And young lady, if you want to ask questions about Jacobs, you better go back and sit down because it will take a while for me to spill that tale.”
“What’s the story?” Garner asked as Tiffany followed Hammer’s suggestion and returned to her seat.
The old man smiled, “What makes you think there is a story?”
“The photos,” Tiffany argued. “Jacobs is seen with Capone over a period of several years. What’s that all about? I mean, you hinted it was a lulu, so spring the information on us.”
Hammer waved, “Jacobs made a deal with the devil. It happens all the time. You have to understand, it’s not like in the movies; you don’t sell out all at once. Instead, you auction your soul one piece at a time. It takes years.”
“You’re speaking in proverbs,” the reporter shot back, “I don’t need a sermon to find this killer, I need the story.”
“Why?” Hammer demanded. “Big Al is a shell of the man he used to be. His time on The Rock destroyed his mind. He sits down there in Florida and just babbles about things that don’t make any sense. So what if Jacobs was once tied to Capone? What does it matter now?”
“When Elrod was killed,” Garner cut in, “he was working on bringing down Delono.”
“He’s a punk,” the old man snarled, “he couldn’t shine Capone’s shoes. None of the boys today have what it takes to really run a town. They’re all afraid to get their hands dirty. They always hire out-of-town talent. They never do anything themselves. To get respect you have to face your enemy and make him feel small. Capone had that kind of style, but it doesn’t exist in this world.”
“You’re probably right,” the investigator agreed, “but I get the feeling Delono had something on both Elrod and Jacobs. The Capone connection might just be it.”
Hammer leaned back in his chair and frowned. “So you want the story of how they are connected?”
“Yeah,” Garner assured him.
“What about you lady?” the old man barked, as he pointed a thin finger in her direction, “are you looking for a story? Are you looking to ruin Jacobs in print?”
Tiffany shook her head, “What I really want to know is why Ethan Elrod was killed. I’ve done some digging and I think there is a connection to the candy maker being executed. Ruining the judge is not on my list of things I want to do unless I find out, as you put it, that Jacobs has broken a few too many hundred dollar bills.”
Hammer dropped his hand back to the arm of the chair. His eyes went from the reporter to his gun. He picked up the Colt, fingered it for a few seconds before dropping it into his lap and making an observation. “You do know that Jacobs and Elrod were tighter than ticks on a hound. Even though Elrod was a bit older, they’ve been friends for years. Jacobs even worked for Elrod for a while.”
“That’s all public record,” Garner poin
ted out.
“Yeah,” Hammer snapped, “so it is. But the connection with Capone isn’t. Listen, I’m at death’s door. As I have told you, there are a lot of things I’ve done in my life I’m not proud of, but I’ve never ratted someone out. Most of what I know I’m taking to the grave. I’ve ruined enough lives and don’t feel like ruining any more.”
“So you don’t rat Jacobs out,” Tiffany said, “but when these photos are printed in my newspaper, the judge is going to be in hot water. He’s going to have to explain this to everyone from his staff, to the voters, to the president. So why not tell us now? Give us a head start. I might even be able to frame the news in a way that helps Jacobs.”
“Dig it up on your own,” Hammer barked.
“What if I told you,” the reporter jabbed back, “this is also tied to a blonde that Delono put a hit out on?”
“And,” Garner added, “the hit went wrong and a working girl named Sunshine died because of it.”
“Sunshine?” Hammer whispered as his shoulders suddenly sank. “That simple-minded gal never hurt anyone.”
“Well,” the investigator continued, “Elrod hired her to impersonate the blonde who Delono wanted out of the way. I’m guessing that Delono knocked her off because he believed she was the mystery blonde.”
“And why would he think that?” Hammer demanded.
“Because she was wearing a blue jade ring,” Tiffany interjected.
“How did she get the ring?” the old con whispered, his eyes reflecting the sadness the reporter noted in his body language.
“Elrod had it,” Garner explained, “and I let Sunshine have it.”
“You were stupid!” Hammer screamed. “No one should wear that ring except . . .” Rather than complete his thoughts his eyes went back to the gun. Then he went mute.
“Who was she?” the reporter demanded after a minute of complete silence.
“That poor woman,” Hammer moaned, “do you know she was beaten as child? Sunshine was abused in ways you can’t imagine. And then Delono had her wiped out. Worse yet, it was for no reason.” The man raised his hand and formed it into a first. “Rico didn’t care about the blonde. Yeah, Rico was Delono’s name before he became Richard, but changing his name didn’t change the fact he was and is a punk. I know for a fact that Sunshine didn’t mean a thing to him. He was too high and mighty to care about a working girl.”
“He thought she was the blonde with the blue jade ring,” Garner cut in. “Delono wanted that woman dead, not Sunshine. Sunshine was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“And,” Tiffany added, “why did Delono hire a man to take that blonde out? Who was she? What did she have on him?”
As if the facts were now evidently coming too fast for him to fully grasp, the old man slowly shook his head and squeezed his chest with his arms. After a few moments of silence, he glanced back to his guests. “Jacobs was from the South Side. He grew up with nothing but a good mind. He made great grades in high school and kept his nose clean, but his widowed mother couldn’t afford to send him to college. So she made a deal with the devil.”
“What do you mean?” the reporter asked.
“In the late teens,” Hammer wearily explained, “Jacobs’s mother told one of James Colosimo’s boys about how smart her son was. Big Jim was then the head of the Chicago underworld and, when he discovered what the woman said was true, Jim paid for the kid’s education in exchange for a promise that Jacobs would handle Colosimo’s legal problems down the line. There was even a contract drawn up spelling all that out. I witnessed both men signing it. Jacobs’s mom was there smiling the whole time. She was sure that she’d found a way for her kid to escape the slums. Now you talk about a pact with the devil.”
“Capone wasn’t even in Chicago then,” Garner pointed out. “He was still a street punk in New York when that deal was made. So what does this have to do with the photos and the blonde?”
Hammer feebly waved his hand, “I’ll get to that. You just need to be patient. Johnny Torrio took over the Chicago underworld in 1920. Torrio was behind the murder of Colosimo, and he was also the man who was later pushed aside by Capone. Anyway, Torrio also saw Jacobs as an asset and kept paying for the kid to attend the University of Illinois in Urbana. By the time Big Al rose to power, Jacobs was in law school here in Chicago. Capone loved the kid and kept him with him a lot of the time. He even used Jacobs for various errands, but Capone was careful to never get Jacobs involved in stuff that might lead to his arrest. In other words, he protected him. He needed his future lawyer to be as clean as the driven snow.”
“So,” Garner pointed out, “you’re telling me Ben Jacobs owes his career to three of the most powerful men in the history of organized crime in Chicago?”
“Hence,” Hammer noted, “my reference to a deal with the devil. Capone saw Jacobs as being his future mouthpiece. So he spoiled him rotten. A lot of good it did him. The kid wasn’t old enough or experienced enough to protect Big Al when he faced the Feds and got his ticket to the pen.”
“What about the blonde?” Tiffany asked. “Do you know anything about that?”
“I know everything about that,” Hammer quickly assured the woman. “She was a local girl and a singer at speakeasies. Al liked her voice and figure, she was long on both of those gifts and had a great face, too, but Al didn’t want her hanging around Jacobs. That didn’t stop Velma and the kid from getting together. He even took some of the money Al gave him and bought the blonde a big, blue jade ring as an engagement present. To keep Al from ending their relationship, the two eloped in July of 1926. When Al found out he almost blew a gasket. I saw him take a baseball bat and destroy a Lincoln sedan just to vent his rage. If he hadn’t thought of Jacobs like a son, I think he’d have killed him.”
“What happened to her?” the reporter asked.
“Well,” the old man explained, “when Capone didn’t like what his boys did, then things changed. So, a few months after Jacobs and Velma got back from their honeymoon, the heat was applied. In time, Jacobs had to choose if he loved a woman more than he loved breathing. When he made that rather easy decision, Capone’s boys moved in and took care of Velma.”
“Was she killed?” Garner chimed in.
“No,” Hammer quickly replied, “she was just moved to another location a long way from Chicago. Velma and the photos you showed me tonight are likely the only direct links to Jacobs’s past. He never appeared on Big Al’s payroll. The money that paid for his schooling came through third parties that were not connected to the mob, and he was never arrested. So, he has no police record. I can also guarantee that those in the gang who know the connection between Capone and Jacobs would never talk. What makes no sense to me is why Delono would want to take out Velma. In my mind, he’d want her alive so he could control Jacobs if he became governor. Velma could be his trump card.”
“What was Velma’s maiden name?” Tiffany asked. “That might help me track her down.”
Hammer grimaced, “Your story is about to get really interesting. Her name was Lombardi. Her father was the grocer the Polish candy maker supposedly knocked off. And not long after the murder, the girl was escorted out of town.”
“And now we have motive for the current killings,” Garner noted.
“But,” the old man cracked, “it’s not a motive that means anything in court.” Hammer waved his hand and smiled. “There’s one more bit of information that ties this all up in a real neat package, but you’ll have to find that out on your own. I’m done talking. Now, before you leave me alone and let me die, I need for you do a favor for me.”
“What’s that?” Tiffany asked.
Hammer reached under the blanket and pulled out a worn wallet. He opened it and yanked out several bills. “Here’s ten C-notes I’ve been holding for a long time.” He smiled and added, “And you know how hard they are to break.”
“I do for sure,” Garner quipped.
Hammer’s face suddenly grew very seriou
s, “Do you know of a charity kitchen not far from the stockyards run by a nun?”
“Sister Ann?” Tiffany asked.
“Yeah,” the old man said, “that’s her name. Will you see that she gets this?”
“Why?” the investigator asked.
Hammer shrugged, “I’m not trying to buy my way into Heaven, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just like what she’s doing. If I die with this cash in my pocket then I’ve got to believe whoever finds my body will spend the grand in a very dark place. I’d rather have it spread around in the light. Now, take this cash and get out of here.”
33
Monday, December 23, 1946
1:01 A.M.
Repeating what Bret hoped would become a habit, he and Tiffany again employed her small kitchen to whip up some bacon and eggs. It had been such an eventful day they used the time preparing and eating to review what they’d learned from Hammer.
“Elrod was no better than Jacobs or even Delono,” the woman noted.
“Why do you think that?” Garner asked between bites. “I mean, just because Jacobs’s mother made a deal with the devil doesn’t mean the judge stuck with it.”
“If Hammer is right on Delono,” Tiffany cut, “who would want Sunshine dead? I mean, the mob boss told you her death was a present for someone else.”
The investigator nodded, “From what we’ve learned it could be Jacobs.”
“And the photos in the globe prove what?” the woman asked.
“On the surface,” he admitted, “it would seem like Elrod was keeping them to use on Jacobs.”
“And,” Tiffany added, “the fact that the DA was willing to use Sunshine proved a couple of other things. One was that he had little regard for innocent life. Don’t forget he also paid you a lot of money for something. Perhaps that was to take out Sunshine. And two, because he had secured the jade ring, he knew where the blonde was. So, was he keeping her alive to control Jacobs? This makes it sound more and more like Delono was working for Elrod, not the other way around.”
The Fruitcake Murders Page 20
