Harbor Nights

by Rick Polad

  Rosie arrived a little before six looking like something out of a Hayley Mills movie. She wore a summer dress done in bright colors that came to just below her knees and looked like it was blowing in the breeze when she walked. Her work ponytail was gone and her auburn hair flowed down onto her shoulders. When I opened the door, she took my breath away. I told her she looked lovely.

  “Thanks, Spencer,” she said with a bright smile. “But don’t let the look fool you. Under the lovely is a tough broad who won’t be so lovely if she doesn’t get what she wants.”

  “Yeah, I was afraid of that. Let’s have a leisurely dinner so I can buy some time.”

  She laughed. “Okay, but first I want to see the frame.”

  As I led her into the kitchen, she said, “I told Lieutenant Powolski I was coming here tonight to grill you and asked if he wanted to come. He declined. He said he didn’t want to know any more than he already does. And he told me I didn’t either. I asked if that was an order and he said, no, just a suggestion.”

  “A suggestion you’re obviously ignoring,” I said with a frown.

  The pieces of the frame were propped up in a corner next to the counter. I brought them to the table and arranged them.

  She just looked at them for a few minutes. “So this is what all the trouble is about. Three people dead over these and you have them lying against your counter.” She gave me a wry smile.

  I didn’t respond.

  She picked up a piece as I got out the rib-eyes and headed for the deck. When I got back, she was holding one of the short legs straight out in front of her.

  “Anything?” I asked, without much hope.

  She shook her head. “Just looks like a frame to me.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  She put the pieces back in the corner and asked if she could help.

  “You can get out the salad and toss in some dressing and cut the French bread.”

  Green beans were cooking on the stove.

  We both liked our meat medium rare so it didn’t take long.

  I opened a Schlitz for me and a Harp for Rosie.

  Dinner was a success. We just chatted about nothing in particular. I knew she was dying to ask questions, but was holding to the agreement. As soon as the dishes were rinsed she gave me a look that meant she wasn’t going to wait any longer.

  I put the last plate in the dishwasher and said, “How about dessert? I have cherry pie.”

  “You’re done stalling.”

  “Okay, let’s move to the couch.”

  We got comfortable, me on an end and Rosie in the middle with her legs tucked up under her.

  “So go ahead,” she said.

  “Go ahead, what?”

  “Tell me.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. I had given some thought as to how to do this. “Why don’t you just ask questions. There are some things I just can’t share. If I can’t answer something, I’ll tell you.”

  “Fair enough. Let’s start with who your tip came from.”

  “Come on, Rosie. You wouldn’t give up an informant. You expect me to?”

  “You said to ask. If I guess would you tell me?”

  “Rosie!”

  She laughed. She and Maxine had laughs that were enticing.

  “You didn’t get a phone call. Your line was tapped. So how did you get that tip?”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you this much. I did get a phone call. I hope you stay up all night trying to figure it out.”

  She looked at me with amazement. “The tip is on tape?”

  “It is.”

  “Well, I know what I’m doing tomorrow.”

  “Be my guest. Good luck.”

  “So you got this tip with the address on Adams and you show up when Vitale happens to be there.”

  I scrunched up my face and squinted.

  “You didn’t?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Is that all I get?” She let one leg dangle over the edge of the couch. It was a very nice leg.

  “I had no idea where he was keeping Pitcher.”

  Her jaw dropped.

  “Are you sure you want to know?”

  She nodded quickly with wide eyes.

  “And it goes no farther than you?”

  “Cross my heart.” She did.

  “Does the address 4167 N. Pulaski mean anything to you?”

  “Yes. It’s one of our safe houses. But how did you get that address?”

  I just looked at her.

  It dawned on her pretty quickly. “Steele.”

  “Well, check the window in the bedroom. Somebody could escape out that window.”

  She looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I asked Vitale if he was involved in the painting thefts and murders and kidnapping. He denied it and told me to get lost. I told him I didn’t believe him. He didn’t much care. I told him I had someone who could straighten it out who had seen someone with Pitcher and convinced him to come to the apartment for a meeting. If it wasn’t Vitale he was free to go.”

  “And he just let you take him there?”

  “Well, not exactly. I introduced him to my friends Smith and Wesson and convinced him I’d use it if he didn’t come along.”

  “And where did all this happen?”

  “On the street in front of his apartment building.”

  She gave me a dismayed look. “Spencer, I wanted you to tell me what happened, not make up some crazy story to get rid of me.”

  I shrugged and raised my eyebrows.

  She cocked her head in my direction. “Are you telling me you’re not making this up?”

  “That’s what I’m telling you.”

  She shook her head. “Okay, continue. But if I was standing on a public street I wouldn’t care if you had a gun or not. No one is going to shoot someone with witnesses all around.”

  “I would normally agree. But I also convinced him I didn’t care about the witnesses. My friend was dead and I was going to kill him if he was the one who killed her. I didn’t care who saw me do it. His only chance was to meet my witness or I’d kill him right there.”

  “Who was your witness?”

  “I didn’t have one.”

  She just stared at me with her mouth half open.

  “I can stop anytime, Rosie.”

  “Oh, please, no. I’m dying to hear what’s next. This is better than TV. How were you going to identify him without a witness?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You weren’t.” She looked at me like I was crazy.

  “No. I wasn’t. I didn’t care.”

  “You were going to shoot him without knowing if he was guilty?”

  “Rosie! I’m not a murderer.”

  She spread her hands palms up and turned toward me on the couch with both feet on the floor. “Crazy people do crazy things, and I think you’ve lost your marbles.”

  I ignored that statement. “I wanted him to tell me if he was guilty.”

  “And he was just going to volunteer that?”

  “Well, yes. But not verbally.”

  Her are you crazy look turned into something that also included sympathy, like I had lost my mind.

  “Would you like a beer or wine?”

  “No, I need every bit of my wits to follow this.”

  “Mind if I get one?”

  “Yes. Seems like you’ve had enough. How was he going to tell you?”

  “Would you agree that if he led me to where he was keeping Pitcher, that would do it?”

  “Of course. And you thought he was just going to volunteer that information?”

  “No. Of course not. But if he was guilty he’d know he was in trouble as soon as my witness showed up.”

  “So?”

  “So, if you were in his shoes, what would you do?”

  “You mean if I had some crazy guy who was going to shoot me if his witness fingered me and I knew I was guilty so whoever the witness was would certainly f
inger me?”

  “Exactly. What would you do?”

  She shrugged. “I’d try and escape.”

  “Bingo!”

  She still looked confused.

  “Figure it out, Rosie. I’m doing all the work here.”

  “What?” She stood up with her hands on her hips. “Figure what out?”

  “What happened. You have all the pieces, and I gave you a clue.”

  She sat back down, folded her hands in her lap, and stared at them.

  Still staring at them, she asked, “The window?”

  “Yes.”

  Looking up at me, she said, “You wanted him to escape?”

  I nodded.

  “So you could follow him?”

  I nodded again.

  She nodded slowly. “Okay, maybe you’re not entirely crazy.” She was quiet for a few minutes.

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “What?”

  “It doesn’t make sense. Do I have this right? You didn’t have a witness so what you were after is where Pitcher was. And if Vitale was the guy, he’d lead you there.”

  “Right.”

  “And you let him escape so he would do just that.”

  “Yes.”

  “Still not making sense, Spencer.”

  “What?”

  “Even if he was the kidnapper, why would he go to where he had Pitcher? Why wouldn’t he just go home?”

  “Because I also told him we had found Pitcher, but she couldn’t identify her kidnapper. She couldn’t remember anything. He’d want to go check.”

  “And he believed all these suppositions?”

  “Why not? He thought I’d kill him.”

  “Okay, let’s say I understand all this. He escapes out the window. How did he get the chance to do that? I’d assume you’d keep an eye on him.”

  “I told him I had to have a chat with my witness before he saw Vitale, so I closed the door to the bedroom, and he figured it out. By the way, probably not a good idea to have a safe house with a fire escape right outside the window.”

  “Thanks for the advice. I’ll tell the captain. But most of our witnesses don’t want to escape.”

  I gave her a disgusted look. “I didn’t mean they’d want to get out. Someone else could get in.”

  She nodded. “I’ll mention it. Did you see him go out the window?”

  “Nope. The door was closed.”

  “Then how did you follow him?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “No, of course not. I feel like I’m in a Who’s On First routine here. So what happened?”

  “Figure it out.” I folded my arms across my chest.

  It didn’t take her long to come up with Steele.

  “So Steele is waiting outside. And you’re counting on Steele being able to follow a guy on foot. What if Vitale grabbed a cab?”

  “He did.”

  She shook her head. “Okay. I’ll take that beer.”

  “Another Harp?”

  “Sure. Make it two.”

  I laughed and got the beers. One was for me. And while I was popping off the caps I decided to stop torturing her.

  I handed Rosie a Harp and took a long drink of Schlitz. It hit the spot. “The plan depended on him grabbing a cab.”

  “But how would Steele follow him? He’d be on foot until Vitale got the cab. And then Steele wouldn’t have his car. And you couldn’t count on another cab being there. And what if Steele lost him?”

  “Lean back and get comfy.”

  She did.

  “Like I said, him grabbing a cab was a big part of the plan. Steele said the guy went down the fire escape like a bat out of hell and ran toward the street. And there was a cab just dropping off a passenger. Vitale hopped in.”

  “Well that was awfully lucky.”

  “And Steele followed him to the address on Adams.”

  “Sure he did. You took a chance on him losing the cab in traffic?”

  I shook my head slowly from side to side. “No, no chance involved.”

  “Lots of chance involved in this whole damned thing! You’re just not this stupid!”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that. Are you listening?”

  “Sure. You ready to tell me the real story?”

  I laughed. “I have been, Rosie.”

  She started to say something and I put my hand up.

  “Vitale runs out of the alley and finds a cab just dropping off a passenger. It’s his lucky day. He jumps in and gives the cabbie the address on Adams. And Steele pulls out and follows the cab.”

  “Back up a few minutes to the part about losing him in traffic.”

  I shook my head. “Not if the cabbie is a pal of Steele’s.”

  Her jaw dropped again and she stared at me. Her mouth slowly closed and it started to dawn on her.

  “You knew he would escape. And you had the cab waiting to take him to Pitcher. And the cabbie would make sure he didn’t lose Steele.”

  “Yes.”

  “So there’s a cabbie who knows what happened. That’s not smart.”

  “No. That wouldn’t be. But he wasn’t a cabbie.”

  “Who was he?”

  I shook my head. “Can’t say.”

  “Okay, but whoever it is might spill the beans.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because of who it was.”

  “I’d really like to know.”

  “I bet you would. Sorry. I told you there were questions I wouldn’t answer.”

  She looked disappointed. “I need a potty break. Be right back.”

  I watched her drift out of the room, laid my head back, and closed my eyes.

  ***

  When she came back in, she asked me to stand up. She put her arms around me and gave me a hug.

  “That’s amazing, Spencer. And brilliant. Must be nice not to have to follow the laws.” But there was a sparkle in her eyes.

  I gave her my best hurt look.

  She squeezed me and said, “I’m sort of teasing, and I’m sort of jealous. You do things I can’t. You really went out on a limb. What if it wasn’t Vitale?”

  “It was.”

  “Yes, but you weren’t sure of that. If it wasn’t, your deadline comes and goes and so does Pitcher.”

  “I was pretty sure.”

  “Big chance to take on just one of your gut feelings.”

  “Remember, I had a tip. And that’s all I had.”

  “A tip that didn’t give you an address.”

  “No. But a tip that pointed me toward Vitale.”

  “And you were sure enough to set all that up?”

  “I was.”

  “And you’re not going to tell me who.”

  I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and took a drink. “If I tell you, you can’t say who—ever.”

  She nodded.

  “Maggio.”

  She jumped up again and looked down at me. “Maggio? Maggio! All this is based on his word?”

  “Yup.”

  “That’s amazing. You did all that based on the word of the head of organized crime in Chicago?”

  “I did.”

  She just looked at me with her mouth half open. “Why?”

  “Because I knew the tip was good. He really doesn’t like to lose. He found out Vitale was trying to steal from him and he wanted to get even.”

  “So why involve you? This guy is good at getting even. We’ve got a score of deaths we can’t pin on him, but we know it’s him, or his goons.”

  “Because, if I get Vitale, Maggio’s not a suspect. And Maggio knew I wanted to get Vitale. He knows what it feels like to want revenge. He gave me that chance.”

  “Jesus, Spencer. You made a deal with the devil.”

  “I guess you could look at it like that.”

  “And how do you look at it?”

  “He used me. But I also used him. And the result was we got Pitcher back—alive.”


  She looked at me with dismay. “I can’t argue with that. But this is all so…”

  “Done. It’s done, Rosie. Let it go.”

  She put her arms around me again and held on tight. I held her back.

  When she pulled away, she said, “Well, not quite done.”

  I looked at her.

  “Three dead…”

  “Well, technically, four. There’s the other guy in the basement.”

  “Okay. Four and maybe five. We may never know about Bloom. And we have no idea what it was all about.”

  “Maybe not. Maggio knows, but I’m guessing he’s not gonna talk. How about that pie?”

  “Sure.” She took my arm and we moved to the kitchen.

  Chapter 50

  I cut the pie and set a piece in front of Rosie. “Nothing better than Aunt Rose’s cherry pie. Do you want ice cream?”

  “No thanks. This is great.”

  We ate quietly for a few bites before she asked another question.

  “Do I get to know what happened in the basement?”

  I shook my head. “People died, Rosie. They were the bad guys, but shots were still fired, and that’s more serious than what happened up till then.”

  “Did you shoot Vitale?”

  “I did. And that’s your last question. Now it’s my turn.”

  She just stared at me.

  “I’m wondering about Steele.”

  She looked confused. “What about him?”

  “I’ve never been much of a Steele fan. Good cop, I guess, but not very friendly—even arrogant. But after all this, I really like the guy. He was a big part of getting Pitcher back. And even you said he’s growing on you.”

  She ate her pie. “Yup. So what are you wondering?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not sure. There’s a wall there somewhere. He’s not unfriendly, but not friendly either.”

  Rosie finished the last bite and said, “We all have our walls, Spencer. Some are taller than others.”

  “How tall is Steele’s?”

  “Pretty tall. There’s something some of us know about but don’t mention.”

  “Something you can share?”

  “I suppose. But remember the ‘don’t mention’ part.”

  “Sure.”

  She put down her fork and continued. “He came here from New York after his wife committed suicide—drug overdose.”

  “Jesus, Rosie. That’s awful. Do you know why?”

  She nodded. “Their son disappeared. He was twelve. Never found him. Steele took some time off and then came to Chicago. But tough to just walk away from all that.”