Vamps, Villains and Vaudeville

by Ellen Mansoor Collier

  “We just missed him,” Nathan said. “Guess we’ll go over to the morgue now, see what they found out about the Turtle.”

  “Keep me posted, will you? By the way, sorry about my outburst. Mack really got my goat.”

  “I noticed.” Nathan stared at me in mock-terror. “Jazz, I had no idea you could be such a firebrand. So what caused the ruckus?”

  Burton flashed me an amused grin. “Sorry I missed all the excitement.”

  “Musey was supposed to get caught with the jewels, but he never showed up to meet Sammy,” I explained to Nathan. “So Sammy’s arrest was faked to throw off Musey’s gang.”

  “I suspect a dirty cop tipped off Musey before the meet,” Burton grimaced.

  “If Mack wants a real story, I suggest he find out who’s the snitch,” I told Nathan.

  “Only one?” He raised his brows. “Good luck.”

  Inside the station, Burton knocked on the captain’s door, then walked inside, motioning for me to follow. “Here’s Miss Cross’s statement,” Burton told Captain Johnson. “I know it’s a bit late. Say, I heard you released Sammy Cook. Why so soon, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Why not?” Johnson shrugged. “Cook has no prior history of stealing or fencing jewels, unlike Musey and his gang. We hope Cook can lead us to Musey, eventually.”

  “So you’re using Sammy as bait?” I flared up.

  “Mr. Cook agreed to our terms.” The captain rearranged himself in his chair, eyes narrowed.

  Burton gave me a warning look, that meant, “Keep your trap shut.”

  I hung my head, pretending to act apologetic for Burton’s sake. “Sorry, I didn’t mean...” Then I noticed the crime scene photos and mug shots spread out on the captain’s desk. “Is that the victim?”

  “Yes, you could say they’re his before and after photos. Why?” Johnson said, frowning. “We’ve already ID’d him as Nick Turturo, the Turtle.”

  “He looks familiar...” With a start, I picked up the photos and showed them to Burton. “Don’t you recognize him? From the other night at Mario’s?”

  Burton shrugged and shook his head. “Looks like your typical ten-cent hood to me.”

  “You know when Musey bumped our table, accidentally on purpose at the restaurant? And soon after, Mrs. Maceo’s purse was stolen off the table?”

  “How could I forget? He practically challenged me to a boxing match on the spot.”

  “Do you remember there was a young violinist playing that night?” I tapped the photo. “If I’m not mistaken, he’s the same violinist from Mario’s. Or rather, a viola player?”

  Burton’s eyes widened in surprise. “You don’t say. They all must be working for Musey, and Mario’s is their meeting place.”

  The captain sat up, alert. “The victim is one of Musey’s men? Not a performer?”

  “Makes sense.” I pointed to the photo. “Musey must have planted him in the troupe to find out where Patrick stashed the jewels. Too much of a coincidence.”

  “Or he wanted to help himself to a fresh batch of gems, like the jewels stolen from the Hotel Galvez,” Burton added. “I wonder if he ever found the Galvez gems?”

  “We searched his person but no jewelry was recovered,” Johnson told us.

  “How in the world did a thug like the Turtle learn to play the viola?” I wondered out loud.

  Johnson leaned forward. “The prison system provides various educational tools to help non-violent prisoners learn different skills before their release. I assume he took lessons in prison since they do have a musical program for non-death row inmates.”

  “Apparently he learned how to kill in prison as well,” I pointed out. “I wonder if Draper went along with Musey’s plan or he was in the dark? I suspect he had no idea—and that’s why the Turtle wore such an elaborate costume as a cover.”

  Burton nodded. “Question is, if he killed Patrick, who strangled him—and was it with his own viola string? Seems the second killer made it look like a copycat murder to mislead the police and cover his own tracks.”

  “Possibly Musey had his man murdered for failing his assignment,” Johnson said. “That’s their usual punishment.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it a bit.” Burton nodded.

  I tugged on Burton’s arm. “Let’s shake a leg. Musey may be looking for Sammy.”

  “Keep me informed,” Chief Johnson called out as we left. “Good luck.”

  “Will do, Chief.” After we exited the station, Burton said, “Jazz, you really need to learn to control your temper. It’s in your best interest to keep the police chief on your side.” How many times did I need to be reprimanded in one day?

  “I can’t help myself. You know I have a soft spot for Sammy. He’s my only brother.”

  Burton patted my hand. “I know. Just be careful.” He veered around the corner and headed to the Oasis, driving like a fireman to a burning building. After all, cops never got speeding tickets.

  “Any idea who might have blown Sammy’s cover?”

  “I might, but it’ll be hard to prove. I’ll have to catch him in the act and show a pattern of behavior. Better yet, find another cop or witness willing to tell me the truth. I’ll have to do this on my own time. We can’t keep letting these lawbreakers get away, scot-free.”

  “Especially hard-boiled hoods like Musey.”

  At the Oasis, Burton pounded on the door and when no one answered, he burst inside. Shouts and scuffling noises sounded in the bar below. A bar brawl?

  Heart pounding, I exchanged worried looks with Burton as we crept downstairs, then stopped on the steps: Musey and Sammy were fighting in the middle of the bar room, chairs and tables pushed back like ringside seats.

  My worst fears had come true. Watching the surrealistic scene unfold, I clamped a hand over my mouth, trying not to cry out, a bad habit. Dino and Frank stood by, gaping, flanked by two of Musey’s men. I clutched Burton’s arm, squeezing so tight my nails dug into his flesh.

  “You set me up, you son-of-a-bitch!” Musey yelled at Sammy between blows.

  “Bullshit! I had nothing to do with it.” Sammy took a swing at his jaw, but Musey ducked out of the way.

  “So why did they let you go?” Musey demanded, bringing his fist down on Sammy’s skull.

  Sammy reeled backward, clutching his head with both hands, moaning in pain.

  I gasped and bit my lip, but it was too late: I let out such a screech that both Musey and Sammy stopped to glance our way.

  “Get out of here, copper. This ain’t your fight,” Musey yelled at Burton.

  “Like hell it isn’t.” Burton stepped out of the shadows, drawing his revolver, pointing it at Musey.

  Sammy stared at us, breathing hard, his eyes widening in warning, fists still raised. My heart squeezed at the haunted look in his eyes, his bloody face, scratched and bruised arms. I’d seen Sammy fight before—and win—but he wasn’t a match for this heavyweight.

  “Try and stop me.” Like a trained torpedo, Musey pulled out a gun and aimed it at Burton.

  Surely Musey was bluffing. I held my breath. Would he really try to kill a Federal agent—in front of witnesses?

  A shot rang out, then two, reverberating against the walls, echoing in my ears like drums. Terrified, I jumped and turned away instinctively, squeezing my eyes shut, covering my ears.

  That’s when I heard something—or someone—hit the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

  ******

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “You bastard!” I heard George Musey yell. “You almost shot my goddamn arm off!”

  Slowly I opened my eyes, peering out between my fingers at Musey writhing on the floor in pain, clutching his limp arm. Dark blood seeped into the wood floor and he started jerking all over while we stood by, staring open-mouthed.

  Musey seemed to be going into shock, but we continued to gape, as wooden and motionless as totem poles. My stomach lurched and I tried not to upchuck at the sight of his bloody arm, ragged bone
jutting out of his skin, snapped in half like a tree branch. Sure, he was a killer and a heartless hood, but I couldn’t stand to see anyone suffer, even if I couldn’t help.

  “So glad you’re OK.” I sighed to Burton. “I thought...”

  “His bullet whizzed right by my head,” he said, dazed. “My ears are still ringing.”

  “Thank God he missed.” Spots floated before my eyes and my knees began to buckle. I clutched Burton’s arm, my body swaying back and forth. “Go help Musey. I’m sure he needs a tourniquet.”

  My lack of medical training and queasy stomach made me utterly useless in a crisis. All I could do was grab a clean tablecloth and carefully lay it over Musey like a big bib, for his sake as well as mine. His coal eyes flickered in gratitude. “Thanks, toots.”

  Mechanically Burton knelt down by Musey, and rolled up his shirt sleeve, soaked with blood.

  “Stay away from me!” Musey grabbed his shattered arm. “You’ll just put me in the pen. Might as well call a hearse.”

  “I may be a good shot, but I’m no cold-blooded killer. Not like you and your gangsters. I won’t leave you here to die.” Burton ripped off the tablecloth’s edge and wrapped Musey’s arm with a make-shift bandage, pulling it tight right above the protruding bone.

  Gingerly I took Sammy’s arm. “How about you? Are you OK?”

  “I’ll live.” Sammy grimaced, and stumbled over to a nearby chair. I got a glass of water and handed it to him, sitting down. “Glad you two showed up,” he said as Burton walked over to the table. “One more minute and Musey would’ve put a bullet in my head.”

  “You looked like you were holding him off all on your own,” Burton replied.

  Sammy shrugged. “I did my best.”

  Musey’s two men hovered over him, shuffling their feet. “Are you OK, boss?”

  He groaned in pain. “I’m bleeding to death. Don’t just stand there. Whack this guy.”

  I froze, watching their reaction. The goons stared at each other, and shook their heads. “A Fed?”

  “I’ll call an ambulance.” Burton walked behind the bar, and gave Musey a tight smile as he dialed John Sealy Hospital. “Please send an ambulance to the Oasis Grill on Market Street. And make it snappy. This man has lost a lot of blood.”

  “You said it, Fed. And it’ll be your fault if I lose my arm too,” Musey snapped before his eyes closed.

  “He’s out cold. Let’s scram!” Musey’s two thugs bolted up the stairs without looking back.

  After Burton hung up, he sat down at Sammy’s table.

  I turned to examine Sammy. “How are you feeling?”

  “Nothing serious.” He tried to shrug, but his face twisted in pain, beads of sweat on his forehead.

  “I’ll be glad to take you to Big Red,” Burton offered. “You’ve got some shiner there, sport.” Indeed, Sammy’s right eye socket was turning various shades of purple, framed by a cut and imprint where Musey hit him above his right brow.

  “Hell, no. Musey’s goons will be waiting for me there. I’d better head back to Houston before Nounes finds out about his right-hand man. Too bad Musey won’t be using his right hand or his right arm for a while,” Sammy cracked.

  Glad he hadn’t lost his wits. Sammy attempted to stand, then collapsed into a chair.

  “You’re in no shape to drive to Houston or anywhere tonight,” I scolded. “Why don’t you come over to the boarding house and let Eva fix you right up. She used to volunteer down at Big Red.”

  “I can vouch for her nursing skills,” Burton said. “She took care of me when I had my lights punched out a few months ago. Plus it’s a lot safer there than staying here.”

  “Sure?” Sammy frowned. “I thought Eva didn’t want a barkeep in her hoity-toity home.”

  “Believe it or not, she’s mellowed since she met Sheriff Sanders,” I reassured him. “And you need a good hot meal. Wait till you’ve sampled her delicious home-cooking. You’ll be on your feet in no time.”

  Sammy looked sheepish. “I don’t want you gals to go to any trouble.”

  “We’ve got plenty of spare rooms upstairs. Besides, it’ll give you a chance to see Amanda before you leave.”

  Eva had a strict policy about keeping male and female guests on separate floors. Luckily a few male boarders had left recently, vacating their rooms before the holidays.

  Sammy’s face brightened, and he slowly stood up, wincing in pain. “OK, you talked me into it, Jazz. Frank, you and Dino hold down the fort while I get some shut-eye.” As he hobbled out the door, he gave Musey a hard kick in the leg. “Two-bit bastard. He and his brother Freddie. Got too greedy, too fast.”

  Burton pulled Sammy away, saying, “Hey, you had your turn. Good thing you two didn’t kill each other.”

  “We might have if you didn’t come along. We could’ve taken him, too, without your help.”

  “Sure, Sammy.” I helped him up the stairs. “I saw what a big help Frank and Dino were, watching on the sidelines, letting you take a pounding.”

  When the ambulance arrived, the medics gave Burton a questioning look as they placed Musey on the gurney. “What happened here?” a heavyset medic asked. “Shoot-out at the OK Corral? You’d better call the cops, buster.”

  “I am the cops.” Burton scowled, and flashed his badge. “How about you take care of this man and mind your own business.”

  “Yes, sir,” the medic stammered, backing away.

  We suppressed a smile while he lumbered up the stairs.

  “Would you rather go with them or hitch a ride with me?” Burton asked, helping Sammy stand up. This time, Sammy didn’t balk at Burton’s offer for a ride. In the Roadster, he stretched out on the back seat, his head propped up against the door, and promptly fell asleep. No wonder, after the past few days. I took Burton’s hand and squeezed it hard. With that one shot, he’d quite possibly saved Sammy’s life—and his own.

  After we arrived at the boarding house, Eva’s face broke into a smile, then a frown when she saw Sammy. “Are you hurt? What happened? Come in, let me get you cleaned up.”

  Amanda rushed in from the parlor. “Oh no! You poor thing. Who did this—that thug?”

  Burton and I exchanged smiles, knowing Sammy was in safe hands. While the gals were tending to Sammy, we stepped out onto the front porch and sat on the old wooden swing.

  “Thanks for helping Sammy today,” I told him. “We’re all so grateful.”

  “Some good I did. Musey’s goons saw me shoot their boss trying to protect Sammy. No doubt they’ll report to Johnny Jack with the news. They’ll think we’re in cahoots.”

  “It was self-defense!” I pointed out. “For all they know, you planned to arrest both men. And they saw you administer first-aid and call the hospital. Nounes can’t blame you for protecting yourself, all of us, from Musey.”

  “Hope you’re right.” He shook his head. “Why in hell they released Sammy early, I don’t know. Sammy cooperated with the cops, and turned in all the cash and jewelry as promised.”

  “They may as well put a bull’s-eye on his chest,” I said. “Musey must be paying that snitch a pretty penny.”

  “You said it. To be honest, I’m glad I shot that bastard where it counts.”

  “I’ll say.” Burton put on a brave face, but I saw his hands trembling. “Sure you don’t want some supper?”

  “I’ll let Sammy enjoy all this attention. He’d better leave town before Nounes hears the news.”

  “You saved his life.” I gave him a grateful smile. “And you certainly took care of Musey. I doubt he’ll be the sharpest shooter with only one arm.”

  He tried to show remorse. “That wasn’t my intention. I only use violence as a last resort.” He looped his arms around my neck. “So we’re still on for Thursday night?”

  “Sure—as long as Sammy is fine. I’m hoping to go backstage and search for some stolen Galveston gems.”

  “Attagirl. Hate to admit, that’s where your friend Derek comes in handy. Backsta
ge access.”

  After Burton left, I joined Amanda and Sammy, who were chatting and snuggling in the parlor. They both looked so content and relaxed, you’d never know George Musey almost snuffed out Sammy two hours earlier.

  “Glad you’re feeling better,” I said with a grin. “Burton and I suspect some dirty cop blew your cover.”

  Sammy reddened and leaned forward, clearly embarrassed at being caught with Amanda smooching all over him. Amanda had no such qualms and continued to stroke his back and arm in a playful and possessive way.

  “I’ll bet. Does Burton have any idea who it might be?”

  “I think so, but he needs proof first. Meanwhile, why don’t you rest up a few days until you’re ready to travel back to Houston.”

  “Houston?” Sammy scowled. “I’m no safer there than here. Fact is, I’ve had a change of heart.” He and Amanda traded furtive glances. “I may stay put after all.”

  My heart flip-flopped, delighted that Sammy might remain in Galveston, yet fearful for his security. “That’s swell. But what about Musey and Nounes?”

  “I have a feeling their days are numbered. I hear my buddies, Sam and Rose, are kings of the Island.”

  Sammy was right: Word around town hinted that the Beach Gang could soon take over the Downtown Gang. Evidently the Maceos had gained favor with the right crowd while Johnny Jack continued his downward descent. Not to mention the fact that now Musey wasn’t quite so intimidating with only one arm.

  Before I went upstairs to bed, Eva stuck her head in the room. She waved a finger at Amanda and Sammy, who quickly moved apart on the loveseat. “No hanky-panky, you two. I’ve got standards to uphold, even if we are kin.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Sammy saluted Eva, his eyes wide in surprise. For once, Eva acknowledged Sammy as family.

  ******

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Thursday

  After Burton’s confrontation with Musey, I steeled myself for a barrage of questions the next day in the newsroom. Instead the reporters seemed hard at work, especially Mack who snuck peeks at me over his not-very-noiseless typewriter. Suspicious, I stared right back at him, wondering what he was up to.