by P C Hatter
“Are you for or against?”
Ellis puffed out his chest. “I’m for Hopper and no louse is going to sway my vote.”
“I don’t remember the last time I voted.”
“You should. Vote for Hopper. He’s the rabbit who’ll get the job done.”
“If I told you, off the record, someone was trying to smear Hopper, would you give me a hand in trying to stop it? You wouldn’t be able to write about it.”
A string of curses came out of Ellis’ mouth too fast for my ears before he grinned and asked, “What do you need?”
“Information, background on Hopper as far back as you can. Everything up until the present day.”
“I got loads of stuff. When do you need it?”
“Anytime.”
Our lunch came, and we ate in silence until Ellis asked, “Are you going to let me in on the secret?”
“No secret. At least not we’re Hopper is concerned. He’s just an interesting side note. If anything comes up that’s newsworthy, I’ll let you know.”
Ellis struck a match and lit another cigarette. “How about the stuff I can’t write about?”
I raised an eyebrow but didn’t speak.
“You don’t know what I know about politics, Kaiser. Image is everything. Some people are heroes because that’s the mask they show the public. If something comes up to put them in a bad light, they counter it with something else. Hopper’s different. He’s a straight arrow, and that makes him an easy target for the crooks behind the scenes. Everyone has something in their past and some of it should stay in the past.”
He glanced around the room and leaned closer. “I’ve seen it before. Things long gone and buried that for some reason didn’t come up on the regular background check of a guy. If our lot finds it, checks the source, and it’s good, we go to print, and the candidate has a lot of explaining to do. It’s not happening this time. A bunch of us have agreed that if that situation comes up, we’re not going to be the patsies. If it smells like a smear, we’re keeping mum.”
“That’s very public spirited of you.”
His tail flipped back and forth indicating his level of irritation.
I lit my own cigarette and asked, “Anything lately?”
“Not for the past month. The political wolves are waiting for the right time to pick him apart.”
Since Ellis didn’t know about the serval, Duke had done a good job of keeping the murder quiet.
“I’ll keep you posted.”
When I got up and paid the bill, Ellis added, “That judge had no right to do what he did to you the other day.”
“You don’t think he might be right?”
“Hell no. That crow can only see two colors. Black and white. Shades of gray don’t exist. He’s the type that will let a guilty person off on some harebrained technicality that common sense would tell everyone else otherwise.” Ellis held up the remains of his cigarette. “Like a, no smoking allowed, sign means a person is allowed not to smoke. The bird’s crazy.”
After we left the bar and Ellis headed back to work, I grabbed an afternoon newspaper. I searched from back to front, but still no word of the two from the bridge had surfaced. Not knowing what else to do, I dropped the paper in the trash and caught a movie about a guy with a split personality. A half hour in, I walked out and headed back to the bar.
News of the sable didn’t surface until the evening papers. A group of tourists found him, and the police were called to pull him out of the river. The artist sketch didn’t look anything like the guy I’d seen, but considering half his face was gone, it wasn’t like they had much to go on. With no identification and no fingerprints, the police figured it for a gang killing.
I didn’t know one tiger could be considered a gang.
CHAPTER 3
Rain in New York can turn everything into a mirror. I couldn’t get away from my own ugly mug, so I did like everyone else in the city. I turned up my coat collar and walked. Union Square was where I ended up. The square is where I noticed groups of people arguing in the rain. Some had green cards and others were curious. What would be so important to keep somebody out in the rain?
There was no soap box preaching, just small groups with everyone talking at once. A beat cop walked by looking casual, swinging his nightstick, but he was on alert to any wrong doing. The comments from those he passed weren’t nice.
Just out of curiosity, I moved closer to one of the groups to listen to what they were saying. This group decided that anyone who fought in the war was an idiot, those who supported the foreign policy of the country was a Fascist, and anyone who would dare spend money or time to enlighten the masses was a traitor to the people.
A moose standing behind me tried to come forward and argue with a Doberman in a trench coat who was leading the conversation. The cop intervened before the first punch. The Doberman got a quick jab from the nightstick, and the moose was told to calm down. That the Doberman was trying to incite a fight so that he could proclaim persecution and get their picture in the paper. Disgusted at the whole affair, the moose moved on.
The cop was right. These people had every right to assemble and say whatever they pleased. Too bad they didn’t realize that those living in communist countries weren’t allowed that freedom.
I studied the Doberman and the two wolves who hovered over him and spotted the guns they carried. This situation was getting better and better.
Not wanting to get caught up in something before I knew the layout, I stepped away from the crowds and watched them from a bench. Fifteen minutes later, the sky decided to open up and dispersed the crowds. The wolves with the rods gave the Doberman space before following and answered my question about why they were packing. The wolves were bodyguards.
They annoyed me, and I’ll confess I wanted to do more than just slug them. I’d fought in the war because I liked my freedom and wanted to keep it. These guys were leading people down the garden path, promising a utopia with everything taken care of. In reality, it was nothing more than a muzzle, cage, and whatever scraps those in power were willing to drop from the table.
I followed the group all the way to Brooklyn to a small vacant store along one of the avenues. The little group never knew I was there. One of the wolves stayed outside while the others went in. After a few minutes, I walked up to the guy without saying a word. The wolf’s ears twitched in indecision and before he could say a word, I produced the green card I’d kept.
That set his ears forward, and he stepped away from the door. I stepped past him, grabbed the knob, and passed into the darkened store. The light came on after I closed the door behind me. It was a homemade rig that shut the overhead light off every time the door was open. Blackout shades covered the windows and extra padding around the edges ensured no light seeped out. It was enough cloak and dagger to impress the average citizen who’d only read about spies in fiction novels that this was the ‘in’ place.
The doe at the desk tapped her foot on the floor impatiently until I gave her the green card. She took her time matching it to her copy before handing it back. “You’re from?”
“Philly.” I wasn’t about to talk more than what I needed. People who talked too much give themselves away. The doe nodded and motioned me to the door at the back of the waiting room and buzzed me in.
About thirty people were in the next room, clipping things out of newspapers and magazines while a stag in the corner photographed the clippings onto microfilm. Three or four others huddled over a map of the city and talked in whispers. The other bodyguard was sticking close to the Doberman who moved from table to table, person to person inspecting their work.
After five minutes, people started to notice me, but no one came over to talk. I sat down and lit a smoke as casually as you please and observed the goings on. If I stared too long at one person, they’d pick up the pace of whatever it was they were doing, but no one questioned my presence.
The Doberman made the rounds of the room again, this time
carrying mimeographed sheets he’d place on the desks. As he passed by me, he nodded. Curious, I stepped over to the desk and checked what was on the papers. A hyperventilating rabbit almost passed out when I sat on the edge of her desk. The sheet contained the orders of the week straight from Moscow. When I was finished reading, I dropped it on the desk and walked back to my chair.
That’s when the Doberman came by and asked, “Would you like some coffee?” If the dog had a tail, it would have been tucked under his rear so far, he could have wagged from the front.
I nodded and followed him and a few others into a small conference room that had a coffee urn at the back. Cups were set on the table, and I lit a cigarette while everyone else grabbed a cup and lined up at the urn. Everyone took it black. While the tension in the room was so thick you could virtually taste it, I wanted to laugh my head off at the ridiculousness of it all.
One of the females in the group wasn’t used to black coffee and made a face as she tried drinking it. When it was my turn, I filled my cup, dumped extra sugar and cream in it, then turned around and smiled at the wolf who’d been breathing down my neck. Not only did he back off, but the rest of the room took a breath.
Those who took cream or sugar doctored their cups, and the Doberman smiled from ear to ear and his accent became more prominent. “It’s wonderful to have you here, comrade. We cannot be too careful. I’m Alexander Rhinefield, but of course, you already know that. We didn’t expect you so soon, I only picked up the telegram from our messenger uptown telling us of your arrival. But this is wonderful.”
That answered the question about the bodyguards. The Doberman was receiving party instructions and where there to insure they didn’t get waylaid. This group was a bunch of school pups playing spy. Alexander continued to gush all over me and introduced his bodyguard as Dennis Chaney. He did the same for his secretary and everyone else in the room. Everyone tried to be nice, but the smell of fear that rolled off their bodies was unmistakable.
“Do you approve of our little setup, comrade? Perhaps you would like to inspect our records?”
He mistook my surprise for disapproval, because his ears flattened to his head and he said, “No physical records of course. It’s all memorized by our experts.”
“And if they talk?”
The Doberman laughed as if I’d made a joke. “Who is it that will make them talk. In this country, they are not allowed to use force. Even coercion is frowned upon. This country is run by fools who have no idea what they are doing. When we come into power, we will show them how to run a country.”
I grunted my reply, and he seemed happy with it.
“Is there anything else you wish to inspect, comrade?”
“Not at this time.”
“Then I take it, your report of our work will be satisfactory?”
A quick nod from me, and the remaining tension left the room. Even Rhinefield’s secretary let out a giggle of relief.
Pleased that everything was going well, Rhinefield got chatty. “That’s good news. The sudden death of our former… compatriot has had us all on edge. That he was not identified as being with the party is quite gratifying.” The Doberman grinned again. “Even the newspapers are stupid in this country.”
I put my empty coffee cup on the counter and checked my watch. It was close to midnight, and it was getting hard to keep my cool and not gut this idiot with a superiority complex.
When we left the conference room, the only people left were the stag who was putting the microfilm in a file and a doe burning papers in a metal waste can. All the other desks were clear. I didn’t bother to see who took the film, the answer wasn’t worth guessing.
If Rhinefield was hoping for a handshake, he was disappointed. I kept my hands in my pockets.
I heard the outside door slam shut and a hurried conversation before the inside door opened. What I saw surprised me. The mink that stepped through the door wore an expensive coat loaded down with so many exotic feathers you had to wonder how many starving parrots plucked themselves to make it.
The female was pretty, but her body had males thinking of other things. Rhinefield certainly changed his tune and started drooling. “Mrs. Swimson, how nice to see you. I wasn’t expecting you at this late hour.”
“That’s because I wasn’t intending on being here but decided at the last minute. I brought the donations.” She pulled an envelope out of her purse and handed it to Rhinefield.
Only then did she spot me, and her eyes looked curious, trying to figure out who I was.
I smiled, she smiled back.
Rhinefield coughed, interrupting the moment and introduced the mink like she wasn’t the same Mary Swimson who got her picture in the paper every other week. “Mrs. Swimson is one of our most sincere comrades and is responsible for much of our substantial contributions.”
The entire situation was crazy. No one seemed to care about my name, but everyone thought I was some big muckety-muck. I just wanted to get out of the place. “I’m going uptown. If you’re going back, perhaps you could join me, Mrs. Swimson.”
The mink glanced at Rhinefield for approval first before agreeing. “My car’s just out front.”
Without a word, I followed Mrs. Swimson. Once outside I held out my hand for the keys and she handed them over. The car was a beauty, and it was a dream to drive.
Mary Swimson fidgeted in the passenger seat before asking, “Where are you from?”
“Philly.”
Something was making the female nervous, and it wasn’t my driving. What I couldn’t figure out was why a society dame would buy into the communist mind set. Didn’t she realized that in a communist society all her money and expensive clothes would be taken away? That she’d have to learn how to work and get her hands dirty? She wouldn’t be going to anymore fancy parties.
Curious I said, “Keeping everything under your hat isn’t easy, I expect.”
“I’ve managed.”
“Don’t the people wonder where their donations go?”
“No one ever asked. They assume it’s for charity.”
“And your father?”
That got a reaction. Her eyes widened, and she nearly jumped off the seat. “Oh please, don’t tell him.”
“Why would I tell him anything? I’m just hypothesizing.”
“Daddy must never find out.”
Mary got quiet again, and I could smell her fear.
“I’m not going to bite.”
She looked at me with big eyes. “But…?”
“But what?”
“Well, um… how long will you be in town? No. It’s just… with the other one being killed. Oh, I don’t know what I’m saying.”
And neither did I. Too bad she refused to complete a sentence.
I drove over the bridge and into late night Manhattan traffic. When we reached Times Square, I pulled to the curb. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll be seeing you.”
“Me?” Those big dark eyes of hers could really do a number on a guy.
“Why not? Can’t I be interested in a female?”
Mary giggled and looked away. “You’re not anything like the last one.”
“How so?”
“You’re not… you don’t… I’m not sure.”
She smiled again, and I got out of the car. “Good night.”
“Good night.”
I walked away thinking I’d just had one of the strangest nights of my life. I grabbed a bite to eat and headed back to my apartment. All the time, I was wondering who they thought I was, and who died that needed replacing. The sable on the bridge, and the serval with the green card were the only two people I could think of.
At about four in the morning, my phone started ringing, waking me up. It was Duke. “Do you know what time it is?”
“You still on vacation?”
“Maybe.”
“Get your butt over to my place, pronto.”
“Why?”
“Let’s just say I’m calling in a favor.”
Duke didn’t have to say any more. I was on my feet getting dressed. Whatever the reason, it had to be important.
Not wanting to bother with my car, I took a cab over to his place. He buzzed me right in and was waiting at the apartment door when I stepped off the elevator.
“What’s so important?”
Duke ushered me inside and shut the door. Three glasses and a shaker were on the coffee table in the living room.
“Is someone else expected?”
“Yes.” He didn’t say anything else as I pulled off my coat and hung it up. Halfway through our first drink, Duke said, “Twins.”
“What?”
“Hopper has a twin.”
“Don’t rabbits usually have multiple births?”
“Yes, but identical twins are a rarity.”
“So why am I here?”
“Because I need help, or it could be that I just don’t want to do this alone. Listen, I know that line you told me about going on vacation can’t hold water. You’ve got a bug up your backside about those green cards and you’re not going to stop until the puzzle’s solved.”
“Guilty. What does it have to do with Hopper, other than the guy shot was carrying one?”
“Hopper’s a good guy and—”
“Please skip the political justification and get to the facts. My attention span can’t handle the load.” Duke growled, but I ignored him and asked, “Twins?”
“Miles Hopper is an escaped inmate from a sanitarium.”
“That’s not good.”
“No, it’s not. If the public finds out, they’ll turn on Hopper.”
“You know this how?”
“Douglas told me over a beer at the bar. His brother is in town demanding money. Seems he killed Eddie Muffin to get back at his brother.”
“Who?”
Duke poured himself another drink. “Eddie Muffin is the name of the serval we found with the green card that Douglas was supposed to have killed.”
