Eli's Promise

by Ronald H. Balson

  Nathan nodded. “Walk away and keep your mouth shut is certainly one way, probably the ethical and safe way, but Preston’s never been a safe-way kind of guy. I think if there was money on the table, he’d want to grab some of it.”

  “Very possible, but Preston doesn’t have a business background, so what does he bring to a complicated business operation? What does he offer Vittie?”

  “Silence. Let’s assume that Preston stumbled onto something scandalous and illegal, something that has been going on for years behind that locked door. Obviously, they don’t need Preston’s business help, but they do need his silence. It would be dangerous as all hell, but it could be the reason for the sudden splurge of money.”

  “You mean he’s leveraging his father-in-law? Demanding money as a price for his silence? Is that what you’re thinking? Is Preston crazy?”

  “I don’t know what to think. Look, we’re just speculating here, but what if the ledgers keep track of illegal transactions—bribery, kickbacks, privileges, unusually large campaign contributions. I don’t know. He’s one of the country’s wealthiest congressmen, isn’t he? Preston said the books went back twenty years.”

  Mimi’s hand was covering her lips. “Preston discovered his father-in-law has been corrupt for twenty years, and now he’s blackmailing him. If that’s true, Preston must be out of his mind.”

  “It doesn’t have to be blackmail. What if Vittie learned that Preston got into the back room? Maybe the receptionist saw him. Maybe someone noticed that the accounting records were misplaced. Whatever the reason, let’s assume that Vittie found out, confronted Preston and Preston confessed. Maybe Vittie decided to generously ensure his son-in-law’s loyalty?”

  Mimi scrunched her face. “I’ve known Vittie for fifteen years. No one would ever accuse him of generosity. He’s not generous to anyone, not even his own daughter. My mom, who has very little money, gave me a bigger allowance than Vittie gave Chrissie. Chrissie always complained that her father wouldn’t part with a nickel.”

  “He threw a big wedding.”

  “That was political; you said so yourself.” She shook her head. “Wow. So Vittie’s got a scandal going on.”

  “Major scandal. You know what occurs to me?” Nathan said, pointing at the floor. “Your downstairs tenant, Mr. Rosen. He’s so damn interested in Vittie and your mom thinks he’s CIA. And so do you.”

  Mimi’s jaw dropped. “I said the FBI, but you’re right. He has shown exceptional curiosity where Vittie’s concerned. Damn, do you think the government’s on to him?”

  Nathan shrugged. “We don’t really know who Rosen is or why he’s here.”

  Mimi smiled and bit her lip. “Are we scripting a television drama?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHICAGO

  ALBANY PARK NEIGHBORHOOD

  OCTOBER 12, 1965

  COLUMBUS DAY

  Mimi walked out of the door with a sweater tied over her shoulders and a large pair of fashion sunglasses perched just above her forehead. She looked down at the steps, at Eli sitting with his morning cup of coffee and a cigarette. The Tribune lay by his side. Mimi chuckled. “We should have marketed the apartment as a one-bedroom with available sunporch. We could have charged an extra fifty dollars a month.”

  Eli laughed. “A porch with a southern exposure—isn’t it pleasant? Are you headed to the Columbus Day parade?”

  She nodded. “It’s always a big event in Chicago. The Joint Civic Committee of Italian-Americans work on it all year round. They have over fifty floats. The governor, the mayor and almost every elected official who wants to be seen will be walking down State Street, waving to the crowds. Do you want to come with us?”

  Eli smiled. “Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check.”

  “It’s not raining, Eli.”

  He laughed. “You’re far too clever for me, Miss Gold.”

  “I haven’t seen you around for the past two weeks. Have you been out of town?”

  “I took a short vacation.”

  Mimi considered whether she should ask him if it was to Washington, D.C., but decided against it.

  A horn tooted and Preston pulled up in his convertible, top down. Christine was in the front seat with a green scarf tied over her hair, and Nathan was in the back wearing a Cubs hat.

  “Gotta go,” Mimi said to Eli. “Last chance?”

  “Have a nice time.”

  * * *

  “I’ve seen that man before,” Christine said as they pulled away. “The one on your front stoop.”

  “That’s Mr. Rosen. He rents the first-floor apartment,” Mimi said. “He’s been here since last spring. You’ve probably seen him around the building.”

  “No, I think I’ve seen him out on Kedzie Avenue near my office.”

  “Seriously, Chrissie? You remember everyone who walks down Kedzie?”

  “Very funny. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him standing around a few times. He’s always nicely dressed, which is more than I can say for some of the people I see on Kedzie. At first, I thought he was going into the bookmaking parlor behind the Bagel Bakery, but then I saw him just hanging around, standing on the corner. He looked like he was making notes.”

  “There you go, Meems,” Nathan said. “Your mom thinks he’s with the FBI. He’s snooping on the bookie joint.”

  “My mom thinks he’s with the CIA. I’m the one who thinks he’s with the FBI.”

  Preston started laughing. “Ha! The FBI’s going to bust Murray’s bookie joint.”

  * * *

  The group planted themselves with the crowd on the corner of Adams and State, just beyond the reviewing stand. As soon as the Sullivan High School marching band had passed, Christine shouted, “Look, here comes my dad!” She pointed at a flower-covered float with a banner that read HAPPY COLUMBUS DAY—CONGRESSMAN WITOLD ZIELINSKI.

  Christine jumped up and down, cupped her mouth and yelled, “Hi, Dad!” He was standing on a pedestal next to a long-haired girl with a crown on her head and a ribbon across her chest. Vittie waved back at Christine and blew her a kiss.

  “Who’s the girl on the float?” Nathan asked.

  “Alicja Purszka,” Christine said. “She’s also the Pulaski Day queen. I think she’s a stuck-up bimbo.”

  “Sure good-looking, though,” Nathan said, and Mimi elbowed him. “Where’s Michael Stanley? I thought Vittie doesn’t go anywhere without him.”

  “I told you, he stays out of sight,” Preston said. “He’s always in the background somewhere. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was driving the float.”

  “Is he in town this week?”

  “Oh, yeah. Are you kidding? Driving me crazy. Vittie, Stanley and the accountant. Larry, Moe and Curly. And they have a bunch of meetings set up.”

  “With whom?”

  “They don’t clear those with me, Nate. I don’t keep Vittie’s appointment book. In fact, I’ve never seen it. I can only tell you that whoever they are, they’re heavy hitters. They pull up in limos, and the drivers wait outside on Kimball until the meeting is over. Sometimes there are two or three Lincolns sitting out there.”

  “What are they talking about?”

  Preston smiled and put his finger on his lips. “State secrets, buddy.”

  “Oh, come on.”

  “You think I know? They don’t let me in the meetings, but sometimes I hear stuff. Sometimes there’s loud arguments. Always about money and percentages.” Preston reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. “Guess what this is?”

  “No idea.”

  “Four tickets to Herman’s Hermits!”

  “Don’t tell me Vittie got you those tickets as fringe benefits.”

  “Ha. No, I bought them. Do you want to go?”

  Nathan grimaced. “I don’t know. How much are they?”

  “Don’t worry about it. My treat.”

  Nathan slapped him on the back. “Then, yes! Something tells me I’m into something good.”

  * * *
/>
  A mob of young girls gathered outside the Arie Crown Theater on Saturday night, waiting to catch a glimpse of Peter Noone and scream. Or faint. As Preston, Christine, Nathan and Mimi bypassed the group on their way into the theater, Preston yelled, “Hey, girls, look at me, I’m Herman,” which drew a lot of disgusted looks and a few middle fingers.

  The opening act featured a local folk group, and the audience was clearly bored. Nathan leaned over and said, “Is the Washington crowd still at the office?”

  “No,” Preston answered, “thank God. They left yesterday. I worked till nine or ten every night they were here.”

  “Did they ever let you in the meetings?”

  “Not a chance. Vittie wanted me to guard the door in case some dumbass wandered in. He wanted to make sure no one disturbed his big-deal meetings. So I sat there reading magazines all night.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “You want to know something? You know the FBI guy, the one who lives in Mimi’s building, the one who’s going to bust Murray’s bookie joint?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I saw him sitting in a car across the street from our office.”

  “What do you mean, sitting in a car?”

  “You don’t understand that? What don’t you understand? The FBI dude was sitting in a freaking car all night across the street from Vittie’s office.”

  Mimi leaned over. “Mr. Rosen doesn’t own a car.”

  “Jesus, Mimi, are you that dense? You don’t think the FBI can give him a car?”

  “Did you walk across the street to talk to him?”

  “No. I had to stay in the office. No interruptions, no strangers, no reporters—those were my orders.”

  “So let me get this straight; you were looking out of the office window, across the street at night and through a car window, and you think you saw Mr. Rosen? I think you’re probably mistaken.”

  “I don’t think he’s mistaken,” Christine said. “I saw Mr. Rosen myself sitting in a car on Kedzie. On Thursday. Two days ago. In the bright sunshine.”

  “Ooh,” Mimi said, with a calculating look in her eyes. “This is getting interesting.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHICAGO

  NOVEMBER 1965

  The season’s first measurable snowfall, four inches of the heavy wet stuff, clung to the branches, bent the small trees and coated Albany Park with a white cream frosting on the late November morning. Aside from creating photogenic scenes on the parkways and the rooftops, the snow managed to snarl traffic, overcrowd the elevated trains and delay Mimi’s arrival at work by an hour.

  She arrived with her cup of coffee, shook the snow from her coat and sat down at her desk. The morning Tribune was waiting for her. The banner headline read, HINT 300,000 GIS FOR VIET.

  Her desk phone rang. Nathan was on the line, and he sounded disheartened. “Billy got his orders today,” he said. “He’s coming home for two weeks and then he’s shipping out.”

  “I’m sorry, Nate. Did he at least get the assignment he wanted?”

  “Nope. It’ll be infantry. Carrying an M-16 on the ground in Vietnam.”

  “We’ll all pray that he stays safe and his time goes quickly. How does Billy feel about it?”

  “He’s all excited. He’s getting out of boot camp and going overseas. He says he’s proud to go with his unit. Says he’s gonna kill gooks. Hell, Meems, he’s just a dumb kid.”

  “I’m really sorry, Nate.”

  “Can I see you tonight?”

  “I’ll get home about six. Why don’t you come by at seven? We’ll get a bite to eat.”

  “How does Chinese sound?”

  “Terrific.”

  Mimi looked down at the copy she was editing. The double-column front-page story carried a sub-headline that read, ENEMY STRONGER THAN EVER, U.S. REPORTS. The story detailed reports that communist forces continued to grow, despite the influx of expanding American ground troops and despite sustained aerial bombing of Vietnamese targets. It reiterated the American command’s assessment that there was no clear end in sight.

  Mimi knew that the Tribune, in line with other major American newspapers, was generally supportive of the administration and its war effort. The media reported daily body counts because that was how the government measured its progress. General Westmoreland had posited that the “crossover point,” that point in time when U.S. and South Vietnam troops were killing more men than Hanoi could replace, was “just around the corner.”

  Mimi scoffed. “I’ve heard that phrase before,” she said aloud. “As the war grows, so does the military budget and so does the money that flows to military contractors. Eisenhower was right on. Why would the military-industrial complex be the least bit interested in a truce?”

  * * *

  Mimi and Nathan exited the subway at the Cermak Avenue station and walked hand in hand along the gayly lit streets of Chicago’s Chinatown. Bright yellow, red and green lights reflected off the snow-covered sidewalks. The tiny Min Fong Café was tucked in between two Chinese gift stores on Wentworth Avenue. Bells jingled as they walked in the door. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, and murals of the Li River and its hill-topped landscapes colored the walls. Nathan stopped and inhaled deeply. “Love the smell of Chinese food,” he said with a smile.

  Nathan and Mimi slid into a booth and ordered the five-course dinner special. “I really appreciate you coming out with me tonight, Meems. It’s been a tough day. A real downer. My little brother’s never been out of the neighborhood. Never even played sports.”

  “I know. I worry about Billy, too, but he did go through basic training at Fort Dix, and from what you tell me, he’s excited to be going overseas with his unit. We’re sending a lot of boys over there. Maybe they’re turning the corner and there’ll be truce talks soon.”

  “I saw on TV that there’ll be over half a million U.S. troops stationed in Vietnam. Half a million, Meems! Can you imagine the supplies and materials needed to support that many GIs?”

  “Christine can. She tells me that Nicky is sending out twice as many shipments as he did a year ago. He’s doubled his business, maybe tripled. She says it’s all military. Semi-trailers going to the East Coast, semis going to the West Coast. Every day. And she’s working late every night.”

  “Preston’s pissed. He wants her to quit.”

  “She’s doubled her salary, Nate. With her salary and the cash Preston gets from who knows where, they’re going to be the wealthiest two kids in Albany Park.”

  Nathan grimaced. “It worries me, Meems. What’s going down in Vittie’s office? Limos pulling up at all hours, secret meetings behind locked doors and Preston guarding the door late into the night like a bouncer? You can bet it’s not legislative activity. Something’s not right, and Preston’s in it up to his neck.”

  “As much as I hate to admit it, I think you’re right.”

  Nathan stirred the chow mein with his chopsticks. “Nicky’s tangled up in this mess with Vittie. Do you think Chrissie is, too?”

  “Not a prayer. Chrissie is as innocent as a babe. She has no clue; I guarantee it. She complains to me all the time about the hours she works and crap she puts up with from Nicky. She confides in me. I would know if she was involved in something illegal.”

  “A shipping company doing business with a congressman?”

  “It doesn’t have to be illegal. Vittie’s the chair of the Armed Services Committee. They’re responsible for supporting the troops. Someone has to ship the materials. Shipping companies get contracts.”

  “With cash delivered in briefcases? C’mon, Meems. What would your friend Mr. Rosen say about that? Preston said he saw him sitting in a car on Kimball. He’s not doing that because he’s interested in busting a neighborhood bookie parlor. If he’s with the FBI, then he’s focusing on bigger fish, and Vittie’s the biggest fish on Kimball Avenue.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHICAGO

  ALBANY PARK NEIGHBORHOOD

 
; DECEMBER 1965

  Christmastime in Chicago. Bows and wreaths and thousands of tiny white lights twinkled up and down Michigan Avenue. Red and green lit the sky from the tops of the Tribune Tower and the Palmolive Building. Mayor Daley ceremoniously lit Chicago’s official Christmas tree in the Civic Center Plaza. The holiday spirit was alive and well in the Windy City.

  Ruth and Sarah were watching the Andy Williams Christmas Special Sunday night when Nathan and Mimi walked into the apartment.

  “How was your dinner?” Ruth said.

  “Fabulous,” Mimi said. “We ate at Twin Anchors.”

  “Ooh, I love that place. Did you have the ribs?” Ruth asked.

  “Of course, I did. But wait till you hear the best part. You’ll never guess who ate there yesterday. We missed him by one day!”

  “Tell me.”

  “Frank Sinatra.”

  “Oh, my heart. I heard he was in town.”

  “He was there last night with Joey Bishop.”

  “Wouldn’t that have been a kick? I wonder if they let ordinary folks come in?”

  “Marco said the restaurant was open. Business as usual. Sinatra and Bishop ate in the back in a closed-off area, but when they left, they walked through the restaurant and out the front door. Can you imagine? Marco said they stopped to shake a few hands, but no autographs.”

  Just then the buzzer sounded, and Mimi rose to answer the intercom.

  “It’s ten thirty,” Ruth said. “I wonder who that can be? Are you expecting anyone?” Mimi shook her head.

  “Mimi? It’s Chris. Can I come up? Please?”

  Mimi looked at her mother and Nathan and pressed the buzzer. “This cannot be good.” Mimi opened the door and waited on the landing. When Christine stepped into the light, a dark bruise on the side of her face became visible.

  “Good God, Chrissie. What happened to you?”

  “You have no idea. I’m sorry to barge in here, but I really didn’t know where else to go.” Her body slumped, and she broke into a hard cry. “I could really use a friend, Meems.” Mimi put her arms around her and brought her into the apartment.