by Rick Polad
After waiting till she walked away, Stosh repeated his warning. “Not a word to her, Spence.”
I didn’t quite understand. “You mean she doesn’t know about the investigation?”
“Of course she does.” He stood up. “What she doesn’t know is the connection between Press and the mayor. There are only three people in this department who do.”
“Do you think the mayor is involved?”
I got another stare that meant shut up and listen. “Ronny Press has a record going back twenty years. In the beginning, mostly small stuff. But, as he spent more time in jail, he learned more and got better at his trades: burglary, theft, assault, breaking and entering. Pretty good at safecracking. Likes to play with knives.”
“Drugs?”
“Not yet. But that’s not to say a guy can’t branch out. Most of his jail time has been in the south when he was younger. But he relocated and contacted his brother. The mayor met with your dad, told him the family story, and asked your dad to keep an eye on him.”
“Looking for special treatment?”
Stosh straightened in his chair and wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “No. Just the opposite. He said where Ronny went trouble followed and he wanted to be sure if trouble followed to Chicago that it got stopped before it started. He wanted us to know about the connection before we found out some other way and to let us know that he was behind us no matter what. What he asked for was, if there was trouble, that we let him hold the press conference if it came to that.”
I shrugged. “Seems reasonable to me.”
“Was to us too. Your dad was totally behind the man and agreed to keep it quiet unless something happened. He knew there are people who would try and make something out of the connection.”
I nodded and looked at my watch. Five minutes were up.
Stosh continued. “Almost as soon as he was elected, the mayor started a big push against drugs. Extra manpower, overtime, special details. We’ve been making progress and we’re about to make some more. We’ve tracked a huge connection to Skyline and Linden and a few other places. We think Skyline is the key and we think Ronny Press is involved somehow, but we don’t know how it’s moving. The track is a pretty closed family. We’ve had two men working inside for six months, but nothing so far.”
“Does the mayor know about the drug connection?”
“Sure. We keep him informed. And this is why we have to keep the connection quiet. If it comes out that they are related, the whole thing will be blown out of the water. I’m willing to bet the guys Ronny are working for don’t know he’s related to the mayor or they’d be pushing different buttons.”
I didn’t question Stosh’s loyalty to the mayor and I was inclined to join in myself, but a little nudging somewhere in my brain had to consider the possibility that it was a perfect situation for the mayor to protect his brother and to warn him before anything bad came down.
“What’s the relationship between the two?” I asked.
Stosh shook his head. “I really don’t know. The mayor didn’t go into it and, as long as there’s no trouble, I figure it’s none of our business.”
My eyebrows went up before I knew it.
“Don’t give me that crap, kid. I’ve been at this game longer than you’ve been alive. I’m well aware that if they hated each others’ guts we could have a different outcome than if they were pals. And if it becomes important, I’ll find out. I’ve got a lot of faith in the mayor. All you have to remember is to keep your mouth shut and to stay away from Ronny Press.”
“Are you telling me to drop the case?”
“I’d prefer it if you would sell encyclopedias door-to-door. You’re less likely to end up in a box at an early age. But, since I know you’re not going to give up that license, what I’m telling you is to come to me with anything. You got that? You see Ronny Press litter, you call me. Stay away from him. There’s too much going on, most of which you know nothing about.”
I pushed my chair back and stood up.
“Okay, kid?”
I nodded. “I have no desire to end up in a box, Stosh. If I need help, I’ll call.”
He shook his head. “Not good enough. You call before you stop to wonder if you need help.”
I agreed, not because I really agreed, but because I knew I wouldn’t get out if I didn’t and I knew Rosie was getting hotter every minute. I walked out, leaving Stosh feeling bad about twisting my arm.
I found Rosie at the end of the hall leaning on the railing at the top of the stairs. She fell in step with me and halfway down asked, “What was that all about?”
“He wanted my recipe for beef goulash. He’s tired of eating frozen dinners. But don’t tell the guys. He doesn’t want anyone to know he’s going in for gourmet cooking.”
I got a one-word answer—“shit.”
Two hours later I was back in my air-conditioned mansion thinking about collecting some of my retainer. Shooting makes me hungry. I had torn the center out of several bullseyes. Times were when the tear would have been smaller but I was satisfied. The gun had felt good in my hand.
I ate dinner, shot the bull with Beef, and asked Maria how Marty was. She was fine. She was upstairs with the sitter, Maria’s niece, Linda. Maria invited me to stop by and see the spaceship Marty had made at camp. I said I would.
As I picked my way through the litter in the empty lot between the buildings, I heard a rumble in the distance. Six days in a row above one hundred and no relief in sight. The stalled air mass seemed to like it here.
I opened a bottle of IPA, sat on my antique, third-hand sofa, and thought about the case. There wasn’t much to think about except that I had to talk to Ronny and Bobby. I did have one thing going for me—you knew you were getting somewhere if someone warned you to get off the case. Then I remembered it was supposed to be a bad guy who did the warning and I hadn’t met any bad guys yet—or had I?
Chapter 14
The early bird gets the worm. Luckily, I wasn’t going fishing because, comfortable as I was in my air-conditioned bedroom, I didn’t wake up until a brown-out stopped the steady hum of the window unit at 9:20. I had decided the night before that there was no urgency in getting to the track. Yesterday it had been late morning when Bobby was painting the fence. I figured today would be the same. I could talk to Bobby and still have plenty of time to get to Wrigley for the late-start Cubs/Cards game at three.
At 11:05, I was turning into the parking lot at Skyline. I made my way around back to the employee’s lot, looking for a red Porsche. It wasn’t there. I parked and walked through the stables to the rear practice track. Bobby was about fifty feet from where I had seen him yesterday.
With my hands in my pockets, I crossed the twenty-foot strip of grass to the gravel path which ran around the outside of the fence. Bobby was intent on his painting and had not seen me yet, so I stayed on the grass and moved to where I could get a better look.
He was wearing ragged bluejeans, a white t-shirt, and had a sweat-stained blue bandana tied around his neck. He was a skinny kid and, as good as I could figure from his sitting position on an old milk crate, not as tall as me. I guessed about five-foot-seven. Brown hair, bleached a little lighter than natural by the sun, covered up half of his ears. If I had to guess at an age, I would have said twenty. If he was older, he had that look of innocence that belies one’s age. Kelly was right, it was a tough call. Strong shoulders and arms were evidence of the type of work one does at a racetrack. He wasn’t working very fast, but, in this heat, I reserved judgment about his work ethic.
I watched for a few minutes and then stepped onto the gravel track and walked toward him. Not wanting to scare him, I figured the scrunching of gym shoes on gravel would let him know I was coming. I figured right. When I was about thirty feet away, he looked up with a smile on his face. But he must have been expecting someone else because, as soon as he saw me, his smile disappeared. And my warm, ingratiating grin didn’t bring it back.
“Morning,�
�� I said, still smiling.
He nodded and wiped his forehead on a bare arm.
“You’re doing a nice job on the fence.”
No reaction, except for a stare that I couldn’t read. It wasn’t fear, but kind of a mild apprehension, a distrust that I had not yet earned. I put it down to the age-old motherly admonition of “beware of strangers”. I made sure I was standing next to an unpainted section of fence and then leaned against it.
After trying to come up with an icebreaker, I said simply, “My name’s Spence.”
He dipped the paintbrush in the can and slowly covered another strip of board. He wasn’t impressed by my name.
I tried another tact. “I’m looking for Kelly Green. You seen her?”
Without looking away from the fence, he said, “Sure, I see her all the time. She works horses here.”
“I mean have you seen her this morning?”
Right then I got my first on-the-job-training lesson in being a detective. You’re supposed to be able to sneak up on someone without their knowing it. And, even more importantly, you’re supposed to know if someone is sneaking up on you. I realized I had flunked the second part when I heard a surly voice behind me say, “It’s none of your business who he’s seen and who he ain’t.”
I jerked my head around toward the voice and saw an equally surly person. He was standing at the edge of the gravel track in the grass.
“I don’t recall asking you,” I replied, trying to sound tough.
He crossed his arms on his chest. “I don’t care what you recall. We all look after each other here.”
I smiled. “One big happy family. How nice.” Wondering what Bobby’s reaction was, I glanced in his direction. The smile was back. Now I knew who he had been expecting. From what Kelly had said about these two, I guessed that the object of his admiration was Ronny Press. He pretty much fit what I had in mind. While I was matching my image to the real thing, I was trying to keep my stomach from turning. From his looks, tough, dirty, and dangerous, the word scum fit pretty well. But he must have had some charm under the surface because it was obvious he had worked it on Bobby and Marty.
Ronny dropped his arms to his sides and walked slowly towards me across the gravel. I wasn’t impressed, mostly because I didn’t see signs of a knife. We were the same height, but I was pretty sure my karate and judo training would serve me well. But, at the same time, I also knew that a knife could be thrown before you can get close enough to place your foot in a well-chosen spot.
“I suggest you move on, mister.” he slurred.
I stood up straight and moved away from the fence. “Thanks for the suggestion, but I’m trying to find Kelly Green.”
He nodded. “Sure. And, from a distance, the kid sitting on the crate looked like her so you thought you’d come over for a better look.”
The kid laughed. Ronny didn’t. There was a whole lot of tension in the air that had no reason being there. It had arrived with Ronny.
“No,” I said slowly, “I thought maybe he could tell me where she was.”
He had stopped about ten feet away. If he got any closer I knew I would have been able to smell the stench of stagnant pond water.
“He can’t tell you nothin’ and you’re on private property. The public ain’t allowed back here.” He looked at Bobby and jerked his head toward the stables.
I was getting close to my limit for taking crap from somebody.
Bobby picked up the paint can and the crate and, giving us a wide berth, walked away.
I watched him walk tentatively around the track. Without taking my eyes off of him, I asked, “You Ronny Press?”
I snapped my head in his direction expecting to see a reaction. There was none. Either I had made my second mistake of the day or this was one cool fellow.
He stared back at me with eyes that showed absolutely nothing. I was surprised at the void behind those dark eyes sunk too deep into the eye sockets. It was as though his eyes were slowly being sucked back into nothingness. The skin was the same way—it was just too tight on his face. And his nose, a little off-center, had been broken at least once. How the hell could this Halloween specter have charmed that cute little girl? I tried to find some resemblance to Jeffrey Grey. There was none that I could see.
After five seconds that seemed like five minutes, he turned and followed Bobby. Ronny had gone but the tension stayed. It very slowly dissolved into the hot air. Maybe it had something to do with the humidity. Since the air was already full of water, the tension had nowhere to go. I didn’t either. I wanted to find Kelly and hanging around the track was my best bet.
A glance at my watch told me it was close to noon. The sweat rolling off my forehead told me the same. I’d have to find a cooler spot to wait. I found some shade at the end of the stable under an overhang at a spot where I could see cars coming into the lot. But I didn’t wait long. It was too hot, and I was hungry.
Chapter 15
After lingering over a greasy-spoon Italian beef sandwich, I drove back to the track, which was still minus a red Porsche, and parked under a scrawny tree which at least gave a little shade. I rolled down the windows and tried to pretend I was on a beach in the Caribbean with nothing to do but sweat away the afternoon. It didn’t work. But I didn’t have to wait long. Ten minutes later, about one-thirty, Kelly pulled into the park. I started the car and, following around to the employees lot, parked next to her. She was fooling with something on the seat next to her and didn’t notice me get out of the car.
I walked around the rear of the Mustang and tapped on her window. She jumped a foot and then relaxed when she saw it was me. The window whirred down.
“I was hoping to see you again,” she said with a smile. “But I imagined something a little less traumatic.”
“Sorry,” I said with my best look of apology. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I’m a little on edge with the crazy things that have been going on around here.”
The car was still running and I leaned on the door to take advantage of the cool air. “What crazy things would those be?”
“Oh, probably nothing, but if you’d really like to know, I’ll tell you later. I’m in a hurry and getting more flustered by the minute. I have to deliver some papers for Dad and just discovered I don’t have one. I’ve been here and to my hotel twice today so I could have left it in the office here or at the hotel. I’ve got to go check the office.”
“If I can help, let me know. And if you have a minute, there’s something I’d like to run by you.”
“How about later? I’m late already and I’m keeping three people waiting.”
“Sure. Check the office. I’ll wait here.”
“Great,” she said with a smile. “Why don’t you wait in the car? I’ll leave it running.”
That wasn’t an offer that needed mulling over. I got in the passenger’s side, picked her briefcase up off the seat, and sat down. The air was on full blast and it felt wonderful. The briefcase was a mess, evidence of her frantic search for the missing paper. I closed it, balanced it on my lap, and waited.
Activity at the track had picked up as employees showed up for work. A day like today couldn’t be good for the horses. But, even with the heat, it was a pretty easy life—run a couple minutes a day and then back to nibbling hay.
Five minutes later, the driver’s door opened and Kelly got in as quickly as possible.
“This is nuts! I might as well be in the tropics.”
“I agree. You find your paper?”
“No. I have to go back to the hotel. Can we talk tomorrow, Spence?”
There was something about this woman that made me decide I’d rather stay with her than go to the Cub’s game.
“I’d rather talk today. Mind if I ride with you?”
“That’d be great, but it might take awhile.”
I settled back in the seat. “I’m all yours.”
She put the car into gear and roared off. I’m not much im
pressed by fancy cars but there was something about the deep throaty whine of the engine that was very impressive. We turned left onto Cicero Avenue and headed north up the four-lane highway.
Watching as she smoothly went through the gears, I tried to put my finger on why she made me feel so at ease. She was very pretty in a wholesome, country kind of way, had a good head on her shoulders, was strong without being pushy, and seemed to like me. But lots of women I met had those qualities. One of them was coming to town next week. There was something else and I wanted to find out what it was. I didn’t like things sneaking up on me. Whatever that something was, it made me trust her without thinking about it, and I decided I didn’t like that either. I guess it was being brought up as a cop’s kid, but I had long ago learned there were very few people you could trust all the time.
For instance, I’d trust Rosie with my life, but I wouldn’t risk telling her about Ronny and the mayor. No, that wasn’t true. I know she wouldn’t tell if I asked her not to, but it would put her in a position that wouldn’t be fair to her. Not that she would purposely tell someone, but it might interfere with her judgment or it might just slip out. And besides, Stosh had asked me not to. Now Kelly had no vested interest. Or did she? That was the problem with this business. Who do you trust? Dad had solved the problem. He trusted Mom and me and Stosh.
I now knew Stosh was closing in on some operation at the track. Kelly hung around the track. And bad people don’t have signs around their necks advertising the fact that they’re bad guys. In order to be good at being bad, it helps to look good. But my gut feeling about Kelly was that I could trust her. Maybe that was the extra something. But better guys than me have been set up. I guessed I’d have to put the wedding on hold till I got this straightened out.
I adjusted the air blower down a click. “Hey, are you aware someone committed mayhem in your briefcase?”
A light airy laugh followed. “No wonder you’re a detective. You caught me, I’m guilty. I was trying to find that damned paper. I could swear I put it in there this morning.”
