“You’ll find somebody, I know that,” Lou said. “Someone rich and good looking.”
“Lou, don’t.”
“You’ll be fine Cassidy.” He got up from the chair and gathered up his cigarettes.
“Where are you going?”
“Out. I need something to eat.”
“Lou, that’s not safe.”
He paused at the door and looked at her for a long time. After a pause that screamed like a broken heart, he said, “I don’t really give a damn.”
He opened the door and walked out.
Chapter 43
End game
“Where’ve you been?”
“Out.” Lou said, “Ate waffles”
“That wasn’t safe.”
“They weren’t bad.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
Monk watched him from the table. “You talked with Cassidy.”
Lou nodded and sat down.
“I brought you a couple of donuts.”
“Thanks. How’d it go with her?”
“It’s over,” Lou said, “and done with. She’ll find someone new to have fun with.”
“Ouch, that’s kind of harsh. Maybe you’re misjudging her.”
“Maybe. And let’s not talk about it anymore.”
“Sure.” They sat in silence, drinking coffee, eating donuts. Lou dripped a bit of raspberry on his shirt and cursed. Monk watched and said nothing.
“What are we going to do?” Lou asked when he was done making a big deal of the jelly.
“Well, I’m going to let myself get caught by Duke Braddock.”
Lou paused mid slurp, his cup near his lips. Slowly he set it down. “Seems drastic, doesn’t it?”
“But necessary. Don’t worry, it’s part of the plan.”
“What about me? I don’t want to stay here.”
“I understand. I need you to do something sort of dangerous.”
“Good.”
“I thought you’d say that. Go see Rufus Black again.”
Lou looked surprised. “Really? Just for the pleasure of his company or is there a reason?”
“Oh, there’s a reason. Let me tell you. If things go as expected, Tony Scolio will be busy with a federal rap for counterfeiting.”
“I meant to tell you; that was a thing of beauty.”
“Thank you. That leaves The Cermak group, Rufus Black and Duke Braddock. He’s mine.” Monk sounded determined.
“Fine. What about Cermak’s guys?”
“Maynard and Buddy couldn’t be a threat if they had dynamite. I put out the word that they’re the cause of all the robberies. I may have even gone so far as to place some evidence here and there. Trust me, they’ll either be too busy—forever—to bother us, or more likely, they’ll be dead or in jail in a week.”
“And Rufus? What do you have planned for him?” For the first time Monk seemed uncertain. “I don’t really know. That’s why I want you to go see him. On one hand, he’s as big a menace as the others. On the other hand, he let us walk away alive.”
“You’re torn,” Lou suggested.
“Yes.”
“That’s noble of you to have feelings. Personally, I think he’s a scumbag, but he does like the White Sox so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Speaking of which, how are the Cubs doing?”
“In third place. Eight games out, Moe Drabowsky pitching. They blew it though.”
“The Cubs always blow it.”
Lou smiled. “Why yes, they surely do.”
*
Walking down the ramp Lou felt a sense of Deja vu, probably caused by the fact that he had done this before. Twice. The day was still hot, the sky was still blue, the Sox were still in the race. And Rufus Black was still sitting in his box waiting for the start of the third inning.
Lou walked up boldly—the only way to do this and live—and sat down. Open mouths and hands reaching under jackets were the general reaction. “Don’t you have an office to run crime from?” he asked.
Rufus made a gesture that stopped anyone from shooting him, but Lou noticed that all four of the guards moved closer and got very attentive. It made him feel proud that they considered him such a threat.
“You got a load of nerve, white boy,” Rufus said. He stared in amazement, unable to figure out what to do. “I put a bounty out on you—any of these boys would make a bundle if they shot you now.”
“Twenty-five thousand,” said Lou. “Impressive. For that kind of money, I might just shoot myself.”
“Save everybody a lot of trouble,” agreed Rufus.
“But if you did you’d go down, too.”
Rufus turned to face him directly. “What are you talking about?” His voice, usually cheerful, was threatening and Lou knew he was seeing the man’s fist inside the glove, the real Rufus Black. This was the man who’d carved out an empire in a white man’s world.
“Relax, Rufus. I’m trying to do you a favor here.” Rufus Black was a man torn between contradictory impulses. Here was someone he’d eagerly kill but who had the nerve to walk right up to him. That both impressed and baffled Rufus. “Talk to me.”
“Can I get a hot dog? I’m hungry.”
Rufus burst out laughing. “You are the craziest mother I have ever met.”
“Hungry, too.” Lou raised an arm and a vendor with a tray approached nervously. Rufus nodded okay and the man sold Lou two hot dogs with everything on them.
“Anybody else?” Lou asked. “No?” He paid and turned back to his host. “Here’s the thing Rufus. Like you said, you’ve got a bounty out on me and Monk. That’s a real problem for us. Somebody sometime is gonna catch up to us and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being dead.”
“Life might not be that long.”
“Then again, it might. Look what we’ve done so far.”
That got his attention. “Why did you do this?” He wrapped a huge black fist around a handful of white popcorn and shoved in into his mouth. A few kernels escaped, like a tiny snowfall. The placid chewing was frightening.
“Duke Braddock started it. He set us against you and Scolio and Cermak. By the time we realized we’d been conned it was too late; you all wanted us dead.”
Lou continued, “Scolio took care of Cermak, but he blew up Monk’s mom’s house when he did, which sort of annoyed Monk. Then Braddock threatened us and we decided to get even.”
“Go on.” Rufus picked up Lou’s second hot dog and bit off half of it. Lou frowned at him.
“Right. We figured if we ran away one of you would get us, so we decided to attack instead. It’s worked pretty good so far, don’t you think?”
“Depends on what you trying to accomplish.”
“Chaos,” Lou said. “You guys get by because you stay underground. We dragged the whole mess into the light and caused more trouble than you could handle. Got the cops and politicians and the public and the papers all mad at what was going on. Now we’re finally willing to stop it.”
“Go on,” Rufus said again. The pressure of kill/listen was making him sweat.
“Here’s the deal. Cermak’s dead. Scolio’s going down.
“Scolio’s dead.”
Lou’s eyes widened. “Really? How?”
“The Feds shot him a whole lot.” Rufus didn’t seem upset by the news.
“Well good for them, said Lou. “So that leaves Braddock... and you. You were nice enough to let us walk away twice before without killing us, and I for one appreciate it. I’m going to let you stay in business. If—”
Rufus interrupted. “You’re gonna let me stay in business?”
“Right. If you cancel the contract and don’t try to get us ever again.” He sat back, finished. “I need a beer. Anybody want a beer?”
“Why don’t I kill you now?” asked Rufus. He was angry enough to teeter in that direction. Lou amused him, but this was too much. He was losing face with his men.
“Becaus
e if you do...” he whistled and a beer vendor charged over. “Two Buds, please. Thanks.” He handed one to Rufus. “If you do, the police are going to discover that you have a whole lot of Heroin.”
“I don’t,” Rufus protested.
“You do now. We stole it from Braddock—he’s into that stuff. We planted it where it will really call attention to you.” He sipped from his Bud and said, “Ah, that hits the spot. That’s if we’re dead. So, what do you say?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“Now Rufus; think about it. Is this worth it? You’re the only guy left in town. There’s going to be a power struggle unlike anything since Capone and you could be part of it. Or you can be in prison for dope. Don’t blow this just because you want the thrill of killing me.”
Emotions warred in Rufus Black; they were evident on his face. Finally, he agreed. “I’ll call off the contract.”
“Thank you.” Lou got up to go. “I’ll trust you to get the word out quick.”
“Yeah. I’ll do that. Fleener; are you really as good as they say?” Without another word Rufus Black made a gesture and all four guards leaped at him. Lou ducked one, shoved his shoulder into a stomach and heaved. The man sailed over two rails and landed on the dugout roof. Security guards looked up like startled deer and began running in their direction. Lou shook his beer bottle and sprayed the foam in another man’s face, smashed the bottle into shards and spun around. In a heartbeat, he was on his knees behind Rufus Black, his arm around the man’s neck and the jagged beer bottle touching his throat.
“Yeah, I am.” He said softly. “Tell them to stop.”
“Stop.”
Lou relaxed and got up. Rufus nodded slowly. He rubbed his neck and looked at the small smear of blood on his fingertip. “Yeah,” he said softly. “All right. I’ll call off the contract.”
Lou walked away from the box feeling good. Later that day the Sox beat the Phillies seven to four and they moved up one game toward first.
Chapter 44
Into the lion’s den
Duke Braddock wore the smile of an evangelist as he watched three burly guards escort Monk into his library. Feelings of vindication, triumph, elation and superiority flooded him as his enemy was brought to him. He wondered if Julius Caesar or Alexander the Great or Napoleon had felt like this; as broken rulers were paraded before them in defeat. He laughed out loud, a high-pitched bray.
Monk was shoved roughly into the red high back chair. He stared up at Braddock with no fear at all and said, “Go ahead and gloat. You won’t have long to do it.” He casually reached for a pack of smokes. A guard slapped it away from him.
“What’s the matter, Dukie?” Monk laughed. “No charity? No mercy for the fallen foe?” His tone was self-assured and mocking.
Braddock flushed with anger. He would not be ridiculed. This was his house, his people. He gestured and the guard handed back the cigarettes. Monk tapped one out and lit it with a match. The smell of sulfur and a thin trail of smoke wafted in the air.
Braddock in turn took a Cuban cigar from an expensive humidor and busied himself in the time-consuming ritual of trimming and lighting it. He blew out a cloud of aromatic smoke twice the size of Monk’s and smiled. It was as if they were comparing the size of their manhood.
The gestures weren’t wasted on Monk. He grinned widely and settled back in the chair and waited. The silence grew, each man smoked, the guards waited uncomfortably and a clock on the mantle struck once—twice. Two in the afternoon.
Braddock cracked first. “This pose won’t last long, Mr. Monkton. You’ll soon be screaming your life away.”
“Very nice, Duke. Very melodramatic. I almost felt a chill when you said it.” He lowered his voice to mimic, “You’ll soon be screaming. Very convincing. But I don’t think so.”
“Oh, you will. I assure you.”
“Nah.” Monk crossed his legs. “Not this time. I’ll admit you won the first round. Convincing me your poor daughter had been kidnapped was genius. I can’t imagine what else would have made me work for you.”
“Thank you.” Despite the oddness of the situation, Braddock was actually enjoying this. He never had a chance to talk to anyone about his accomplishments. To have someone acknowledge him was intoxicating. He never dreamed Monk was stalling, and even if he had, it wouldn’t have mattered. The man was securely in his power. “I thought it was inspired.”
“It was,” Monk agreed. “An absolute masterwork. Having Lou and I chase around, stirring up trouble, having your man Warburton benefit by demanding an end to crime.” He shook his head and saluted with his cigarette. “I applaud you.”
“It’s a shame you won’t survive the evening, Mr. Monkton. You are an astute man.”
“Call me Monk. It doesn’t take an astute man to appreciate a great plan, Duke. Nor does it take a brilliant man to make a countermove.”
“You’re referring to your recent activities?” Braddock went to a small bar and picked up a decanter and a wide glass. “Pardon me for forgetting my manners. Would you care for some Brandy?”
“Certainly.”
Braddock poured and handed over the glass. He returned to his position, leaning against the edge of his huge desk. Monk wondered if he knew how foolish he looked, wearing silk pajamas and a robe, for God’s sake. Go for it, he decided. “May I ask why you wear,” he gestured, “that?”
“These?” Braddock fingered the collar of his smoking jacket as if the gesture wasn’t practiced. “It’s an homage, actually.” He pronounced it “Oh-modge” and Monk had to stifle a laugh. “To Hugh Hefner of Playboy. Are you familiar with the gentleman?”
“The famous porn guy?” Monk was surprised.
“Hardly. A visionary. Hugh Hefner, working from a kitchen table, created a publishing empire, based on a simple idea. He took men’s desire to look at women and turned it into an acceptable venture. He put pornography, as you call it, on the coffee table of middle America.”
“And this is something to be admired?”
“Not in and of itself, perhaps. It’s the idea that matters. He saw something new, or rather, something old—that men like naked women—and made it something new—the girl next door, natural beauty, etc. And he sold it. Very impressive.”
“Coffee table sex?” Monk said.
“Exactly! Out of the dark shadows and into the living room.”
“And you think of yourself as another Hugh Hefner.”
“In a way. I am a criminal. I could be small time and act like a thug. Instead I live in a mansion, drive good cars and cultivate high society. I have transformed myself into a businessman.”
“And killing me? How does that fit into your businessman persona?”
“It doesn’t. But, like Mr. Hefner selling porn—and it is porn, he just makes it saleable—I am a criminal. I can make it look nice but in the end, it’s what I am. It is as a criminal that I will have you killed.”
“Well said. It’s not going to happen, but well said.”
“I don’t understand you. You are captured, surrounded, and you seem unimpressed. What am I missing?” Braddock knew he held the upper hand and he was enjoying himself hugely. He sipped at his imported Brandy and puffed his expensive cigar. He looked at his enemy. Life was so very good.
“Braddock, Braddock; do you think I didn’t plan for this? I put the word out about where to find me hours ago. I can’t believe how slow your people are.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I wanted you to grab me.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m truthing. Is that a word? Truthing? It should be. No; I wanted to be here to see you go down.”
“I’m not going down tonight, Mr. Monkton.
“Please; call me Monk.”
“Monk. You’ll be dead in a matter of hours.”
“Do you know what’s happened to Scolio?”
“No. And I don’t see how it matters.”
“He’s been killed by the feds
for counterfeiting. Or for murder.” The idea made Monk smile.
“You’re saying it was your doing?”
“The counterfeiting, yes. The Feds shooting him was a bonus. He killed some guy named Lucius Formby.”
“Lucius? I know him. He’s Tony’s lieutenant.”
“Was. Tony shot him three times. Right in the chest.” Monk pointed to his own chest three times and allowed himself the pleasure of crowing. “My plan. And of course, it was Scolio who killed Cermak. Now the police think it’s Cermak’s boys behind the recent crime wave. I did that too.”
“Well, you certainly have been busy. It won’t save you though.”
“Can’t hurt. I also robbed you silly, which was fun.”
“You were dead men the moment you did that.”
“We were dead men if we didn’t. Don’t you see Braddock? Your mistake was in thinking you could keep this quiet. All I had to do was drag everything into the light. I made sure everybody knew it wasn’t a ‘gentlemen’s magazine’ on the coffee table. It was naked women; it was pornography. Or in this case, it was a criminal. Your cover’s been blown Braddock. You’re finished.”
Braddock clearly didn’t agree. If Monk expected some hysterical rant he was disappointed; Braddock just watched him carefully and shook his head. “Take him somewhere and kill him.”
“Wait a minute!” Monk insisted. “Not yet.” He pointed at Braddock. “Lou’s gonna be here in a minute. He’s going to kick your ass.”
Braddock laughed. He looked at his men. “The formidable Mr. Fleener is going to beat these men? That pudgy little fool of a private detective? That’s what you’re counting on?”
“Yes.”
Still laughing at the joke, Braddock said, “By all means let’s wait. When is he supposed to be here?”
“You have to understand. I didn’t know when your goons were going to grab me, so I had to guess at the time. I told him to be here at three.”
Braddock looked at the clock. “It’s two-twenty now. Shall we wait?”
“Why not?” Monk gestured at the chessboard. “Do you play?”
“I do.”
“Care to?”
Braddock smiled. “Of course.”
Missing Amanda Page 25
