Chapter Fifteen: G-Men, T-Men, and P-Men

I was at the hotel lounge where Penny and I had shared a drink on Friday, waiting for her to show up. The piano player was pounding out a lively version of “The Varsity Drag,” singing along in his high falsetto. Well, I thought, at least he’s getting closer to the modern era. That song swept college campuses a few years after I graduated. I wasn’t in the mood for picking over old memories today, though. What he hell had Penny meant by crashing my meeting with Stanton? And introducing herself by her real name? No way to tell, and she’d be here soon enough to clue me in. It seemed like a good time to review things as they stood so far.

I’d come to Baltimore because someone had embezzled from the bank where my brother worked and tried to frame him for it. The embezzlers were Myers and Wiedermann, two men working under Nathan who’d taken the money in hopes of making a quick killing in the stock market. Only the embezzlers, still unbeknownst to them so far as I knew, hadn’t really invested the money; they’d had it taken from them by a master con artist calling himself Clay Stanton. This same Stanton had conned a man who’d recently visited my office, Ethan Ryland. Cleaned him out in fact. And Ryland was back in Baltimore, originally at my request, I thought, but really for reasons of his own. Ryland had introduced me to Stanton as a potential mark, and so far Stanton had taken the bait and I’d been playing the sap for him, letting him prep me for the big play. I’d met Ferrier, the forger who doctored the now worthless loan documents Nathan had originally signed, and had him do a little work for me. I was working a threadbare scheme of my own against Stanton in hopes of getting the bank’s money back, or as much of it as I could anyway. I’d been introduced to Stanton, Myers, and Wiedermann (and Soames, another of Nathan’s employees who I didn’t think really figured in this) as Kelly Shaw, a big wheel from the Midwest. Ferrier knew me by that name, too. I’d later reintroduced myself to Myers and Wiedermann as Kelly Shaw, a big shot federal law man who’d threatened them into keeping quiet, claiming to be after bigger fish (Lord, the irony!). I’d run into Penny Sills, a con I met in Iowa five years ago who’d done hard time for grifting (and maybe blamed me for it), who was still in the game and who’d promised to help me. I’d squared things with her landlord as my part of our bargain. Was there anything else up to that point? Other than another potential ally in the form of a private detective named Townsend and the fact that a dentist named Enright was giving it to his receptionist, I couldn’t think of anything.

That all seemed complicated enough to me, but I guessed the gods of fate had been getting extra bored lately. Yesterday I found out that a U.S. senator from Maryland named Cumberland had also been fleeced by Stanton and had taken it personal. Thanks to his careful machinations, no less than three federal agencies were now coordinating their efforts to bring Stanton to justice. Pinkerton’s had been called in to offer assistance, owing to their years of experience with confidence schemes and the people who ran them. One of their “top men” from Chicago – a slimy career climber who grabbed for credit like a life preserver and who would sell his own children into the jute mills if it meant a promotion – had been brought in along with two of his own. And then Joshua Mattling, Special Agent In Charge of the F.B.I.’s Divisional Headquarters in Baltimore, had met with me in secret. He wasn’t all that interested in Stanton; he was interested in Ethan Ryland’s erstwhile business partner. Mattling wanted me to keep playing the mark for Stanton and had gone so far as to offer protection for doing so. And he’d said all this in front of nobody reliable and could deny it at any time.

I took a sip of my drink and ran down the list in my head. My brother Nathan, the victim here. Myers and Wiedermann, two amateur embezzlers running scared over a bad investment. Stanton, a master of the big con, expert and very long in the game. Ferrier, a shifty little forger but a good one. Mattling, a career fed who may even be on the level. Townsend, a capable private eye who would help if it was nothing illegal. Penny, a sharp, fun-loving con girl who claimed to be my ally. Ethan Ryland, a played mark still very much in the soup and damned scared about it. And, of course, I couldn’t forget Ryland’s partner, Casper Giarelli, a Chicago mobster who was coming to Baltimore. Beldham & Morrissey, First Quality Investors, Pinkerton’s, the Internal Revenue Service, the Securities and Exchange Commission, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and God help us all, the mafia. I’d seen no harm in dipping my toe into the soft rackets, win or lose. Now I wasn’t so much running with the big dogs as I was surrounded by them, and losing had become a whole hell of a lot riskier. I thought back to what Townsend had said to me the last time I visited his office: “That’s why I don’t work with family.”

Penny showed up at last, sat down and ordered a drink. I waited for it to be served so we wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Mind telling me what the hell that was all about?” I asked. “You crashing my meeting with Stanton?”

She put her glass down and smiled brightly. “I’m helping you, remember?”

“Helping me how? You could have queered the whole deal. You’re in the game, too. Stanton could know that.”

“Of course he knows that,” she laughed. “Or if he doesn’t he will by tonight. The man’s not stupid, you know.”

“And letting Stanton see me on intimate terms with another con artist is going to help me how exactly?”

“Intimate terms?” She smiled provocatively. “It was just a kiss.”

“Get on with it.”

Penny outlined her plan for me. As she said, Stanton either knew or would know soon that she was a con herself. He’d believe another mob was trying to put the touch on the young millionaire Kelly Shaw. That alone might make Stanton work a little harder to get to Shaw first, keep him on the hook for whatever I was attempting. However, she explained slyly, if she could hint that she was less than satisfied with her current group, that she had talent but was never given anything really big to sink her teeth into, that she might be looking around for someone new to shill for…

“Don’t you get it, Dev? Even if he just strings me along so he can keep watch on me, maybe learn more about what the competition is doing, I’m still in the picture. I can still be your eyes on the inside.”

“And if he sees you do have some real talent,” I said with mock enthusiasm, “then you could end up with a better job.”

“There’s that, too,” she purred.

“And this all came to you when?”

“When I was passed by the restaurant you two were having lunch at. I was on my way here to meet you and I happened to look in the window and saw you both sitting there and it all just kind of came to me. It’s called improvising, Dev. We do a lot of it in my trade.”

“We do a fair bit of it in mine, too,” I told her sharply. “When we don’t have a better plan already in place.”

“Yeah? What what was your plan? Introduce me to Stanton later as your secretary?”

“No!” I lied. Of course that had been my plan. I was starting to see what Penny meant about not getting the chance to show her stuff.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Well, obviously we’re stuck with your plan.” I paused for a drink before admitting: “Lucky for us, it’s a pretty goddamn good plan at that.”

Her blue eyes glittered and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

“Did it hurt to say that, Dev?”

I put a hand to my throat and rasped out: “Can’t talk now.”

If someone tries to tell me I’m in heaven and there isn’t the sound of a pretty woman’s laughter, I’ll know he’s lying.

I did a lot of planning and preparation over the next few days. I had to give Stanton time to check out Penny, hopefully take her on in some fashion, and to work out a new play for me. He knew now that he didn’t need to set up some complex, precisely-timed investment backfire; I’d practically asked him point blank to take a large sum of cash off my hands.

I spent a lot of time in my suite on the telephone and driving around to check out the building I was purporting to buy. I didn’t see Mattling or any of his people. I saw a few of what could have been Stanton’s, making sure the mark was doing what he said he’d be doing. I took a little exercise and some steam at the club when I could manage it, relaxing into idle chat with the other movers and shakers and trying to learn a bit more from them that I might be able to use.

I answered the telephone in my suite Thursday afternoon and was almost surprised to hear Nathan’s voice. Strange as it sounds, I’d almost forgotten about him.

“Coming over for dinner tonight, Dev?”

“Oh, hell, Nathan, I really don’t know. I’m pretty busy with all that’s going on.”

“Oh.” His voice fell flat, like he didn’t know what else to say. Was he disappointed? It had been awhile since we’d met up. He’d have a heart attack if I told him everything that had been going on, but surely I could take a few hours to ease his mind a bit?

“You know what? I’m not that busy. Sure, yeah, dinner tonight sounds great.”

“Wonderful,” he perked up. “Can we expect you around seven?”

“Look for the shiny black Cadillac pulling into your drive right about then.”

I got tied up with other details and didn’t notice the time until it was almost too late. I had to break a few speeding laws to make my dinner date at Nathan’s, but I figured Kelly Shaw could afford a traffic ticket. I chuckled to myself behind the wheel, idly wondering how far Shaw’s reputation had spread in this city. Was there a chance the traffic cop might have heard the name?

Marie had gone all out on dinner. A succulent smoked ham, baked sweet potatoes, fresh ears of corn, a crisp green salad, and the lightest, fluffiest dinner rolls I’d ever eaten. I’d dined in some of the best restaurants in town recently, but you can’t beat a hot, home-cooked meal made by people who care about you.

I didn’t realized how much I’d missed Billy and Mary until I was seeing them again, all shined up in new clothes. They’d given me hugs at the door and led me to the table, one on each hand. Marie was in a nice dress with pearls, her hair carefully brushed.

“Special occasion?” I asked.

She gave me odd smile. “Of course. You’re here.”

It was a great meal, not just the food but the company. I asked the kids all about how school was going, they asked if I’d had to return any library books lately, and their parents both asked if I might be free for a movie this weekend. I told them I’d sure try, but that I was sorry not to be able to promise it.

I didn’t really feel like a heel until after dinner. Marie and Nathan cleared the table, ordering me to keep my seat for a special surprise. I went back to visiting with the children and a few minutes later, Nathan turned out the dining room light and Marie walked in behind him carrying a cake with candles burning on top of it, both of them serenading me and the kids immediately joining in.

I honestly hadn’t thought about it all day, not for several days. Today was April 18th, my birthday. I was thirty-seven. I’d forgotten, but my family had remembered. I was grateful the lighting was low. I made a wish and blew out the candles, getting all of them on the first try while everyone clapped. Nathan put the light back on and Marie started cutting the cake. Angel food with white frosting and blue icing spelling out my name. She’d made it herself, so it was terrific.

“What did you wish for?” asked Billy.

“Can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” I winked at him, then looked at Nathan for a second. “But I can tell you I wished hard.”

There were even presents. I unwrapped a pair of cufflinks from Nathan, sterling silver octagons with my initials engraved. Billy gave me a book on famous criminals. I opened it and flipped through a few pages, commenting “Knew him. Yep, knew him, too. Hey, that guy still owes me money!” Mary gave me a picture she drew and colored herself that I made a deal over. Marie gave me a small box that I assumed contained another set of cufflinks or a tie pin, but it was a cameo broach, an ivory silhouette of a woman’s portrait against an oval of pink coral. It had been my mother’s. I had to do something quick, so I held it against my lapel and raised my chin like I was posing for a photograph, and the kids started laughing again.

“It was Bridget’s,” Marie explained.

“I remember,” I nodded.

“I thought maybe…”

“You thought right,” I said quietly. A month ago, my birthday plans had centered around a bottle of scotch. And I’d almost begged off dinner tonight when Nathan called. Jesus, what a life.

After coffee and cake the kids went reluctantly to bed and Nathan brought out the last present: a bottle of very good scotch, even better than the one I’d been saving. He insisted that Marie join us for a drink of the porch, and she said okay but a lot of water with hers, please. The three of us relaxed in the nighttime quiet and talked, Nathan and I telling stories of our boyhood and of our parents. I kept waiting for Marie to go inside, figuring Nathan would be itching to talk to me, but she stayed until I said I had to go. Nathan walked me to the door and I tried to get a few words of business in.

“It’s your birthday, Dev,” he said seriously. “Unless it’s something really important, it can wait.” Why did it surprise me to learn that family meant more to Nathan than business?

“A lot’s happening right now,” I told him. “But I think it can still work. I wouldn’t be trying if I didn’t.”

“That’s good to hear. You sure you won’t stay the night?”

“I’d like to, Nathan, but I need to be back at it tomorrow.”

He nodded. “Drive carefully.”

I walked out to the Cadillac, shining beautifully in the driveway under a bright, full moon. Nathan stood silhouetted the light of the front porch. I threw him a wave and thought: You’re a good man, Nathan Caine. I won’t let you or your family down.

Friday at noon, Clay Stanton was summing it up for me in his usual, eloquent style over a plate of roast beef.

“What I’ve had you doing so far, Mr. Shaw, is to make very carefully-timed, short-term investments for me. What I’m proposing for your situation is far simpler. A longer term purchase in a stable, reliable stock. If you’re concerned about your partners, the shares needn’t even be purchased in your name. Once you give me the exact amount you wish to…tie up, I’ll select a suitable company and the appropriate number of shares you’ll need to buy. At the moment, I’m favoring New World Pan-American. They’ve performed stably if not spectacularly, and depending on how long you wish to leave your money in, you could even earn a slight profit. Say between three and five percent.”

As always, I paid respectful attention while Stanton talked, at the same time trying and failing to find the seams in his mask. He spoke with gravity and authority. Who wouldn’t believe him?

“It sounds perfect,” I said. “Of course, it’ll take me a few days to get the money ready.”

“Of course.”

“What do you think, Penny?” I asked, turning to my right.

“Hmm?” She looked up from her plate, chewing and holding a hand in front of her mouth. “Sorry, boys, you lost me at New World Pandemonium.”

Stanton and I both laughed good-naturedly. Penny had been introduced at our first meeting as my traveling companion. I’d admitted to Stanton later that, as I’d met her in Baltimore, we hadn’t actually traveled anywhere together yet. He made a gracious comment about life not being all dollars and cents, and about young men needing the comradeship of the gentler sex. By now, Penny had worked out her deal with Stanton. She’d feed enough false leads to her regular mob to keep them at bay, all the while staying close to me and reporting back to Stanton. In reality, she’d be reporting only what I told her to and giving me as much dope as she could on Stanton’s operation. At least I hoped that was the reality. Hard to be absolutely certain when you’re dealing with professional con artists.

That afternoon, I was back at the bar at the Lord Baltimore, sharing a booth with Thaddeus Straker. He’d been leaving messages asking to see me. I’d been ignoring them until I decided I might be able to use him. You have to do your share of distasteful things in my business. Even so, we’d only been at sitting down together for five minutes and I already wanted to shower.

“Thanks for meeting me, Dev,” he said eagerly. “It was not only white of you, it was smart, and I’ll tell you why.”

“Oh, I wish you would.”

“I know you met Agent Mattling here for a drink last Sunday night. What can I say? A good detective’s got to have his sources, right?” Only Straker would think himself a good detective for slipping the night barman a couple of bucks. “Now it’s okay, you don’t have to tell me what you two talked about. I have a pretty good idea anyway. He offered you a job, didn’t he? I mean, why else would he have wanted to meet with you in a friendly setting like this except to try and sell you on the Bureau. Am I right or am I right?”

If Straker could make a deal with the Devil and live to be a thousand (assuming the Devil would want to foul Hell with him), he’d still be an idiot. The man almost made it a point of pride not to learn anything new, probably because doing so involves admitting you don’t know something. Here he was up to his old tricks, putting two and two together and coming up with nineteen and a half. And as usual, he wasn’t concentrating on the matter at hand, the pursuit of Stanton, but on his career.

I stuck out my lower lip. “He may have mentioned it in passing.”

Straker congratulated himself with a smug smile.

“He may have made it seem like it was in passing, but I bet he didn’t fool a sharp cookie like you, did he?” Much as we hate to admit it, flattery very often works. Unless, of course, you’re as bad at it as Straker. “See, here’s the thing, Dev: it sounds like a great move. There you are, stuck out in the middle of Kansas, trying to scrape together enough work to make ends meet, and along comes this guy from an F.B.I. National Headquarters offering you a shiny new badge and a real salary again. Hell yes, it sounds a good deal. Why wouldn’t it?”

Kansas City is actually in Missouri, the one I work in, but Straker probably didn’t realize there were two of them. Three if you count North Kansas City, also in Missouri. And Kansas City, Kansas is right on the border, not anywhere near the middle of the state. I decided to stop keeping track of all the things Straker got wrong before I ended up with a headache.

“But here’s the thing,” Straker continued. “You’ve got to be careful how you go about it. You act too eager, they bring you on board cheap as they can. They drop you in some field office in the middle of nowhere and you’re right back where you started. You have to make them realize what they’re getting, and you especially have to make them realize they’re going to have to pony up to get it.”

I hadn’t said a word yet. That didn’t seem to bother Straker.

“Now I don’t mind telling you, I’ve been building you up to Mattling pretty good. And I’m not saying that’s a snow job. You’ve got some skills and you’ve got some training, and you’re a fairly hard worker when you want to be. Sure, I know you and I had our beefs now and then, but you know what I say to all that?” He leaned back and spread his hands wide, palms forward. “Past is past. Forgive and forget, baby, that’s how it has to be. Know why? ’Cause you damn sure can’t move forward if you’re always looking back over your shoulder.”

Only a man like Straker could step over other people on his way up and think that not looking back at their broken bodies was the height of progressive thinking. It was just too bad there were so many of his type around, and that they could reproduce.

“I’ve been helping you, Dev. I can help you more. Mattling, he likes you. He wants you on his team. I can help facilitate that, and I mean getting you all the way to a Washington post with a real title.” It had always been Caine back in Chicago. Caine, do this. Caine, do that. Caine, you screwed up again, goddamn you! This Dev business was new.

“In exchange for what from me?” I asked, my tone neutral.

“Sharp cookie, like I said,” he laughed. “The wise man knows you can’t get something for nothing. Okay, what do I want? Pretty simple, really. Keep me informed. Let me know what you’re reporting back to Mattling. We can exchange information, you and I. These government types, they can’t talk to each other without filling out forms in triplicate first. If we don’t get information flowing smoothly, I have a worry this Clay Stanton will slip the net. And then where will we be? I want to make sure this operation comes off without a hitch, and if we work together, I predict that’s just what will happen.”

I knew exactly where Straker would be if this went south: going back to Chicago without a letter of commendation signed by J. Edgar Hoover himself. Or possibly without a medal for civilians if the Bureau had such a thing. Maybe Straker could suggest it to them.

I pushed my glass around for a moment, thinking.

“I don’t see any harm,” I began, and that’s when I saw a man walking up to our booth. His gait was purposeful and the cut of his suit conservative, giving his lean body almost the look of an undertaker.

“Mr. Shaw?” he asked politely. “My name is John Galen. May I join you for a moment, sir?”

“What’s this about?” I asked.

“It’s a matter of some importance,” he said patiently. “May I please sit down?”

I shot a puzzled look at Straker and got one in return. I shrugged.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Galen pulled up a chair and placed it at the end of our table. He took a hundred dollar bill from his breast pocket and slid it across the table to me.

“Do you recognize this, Mr. Shaw?”

“I’ve see a few of them before, I guess.”

“I meant, sir, do you recognize this one in particular?”

“Is this a joke, son?”

“No, sir. This is possibly fifteen years in a federal penitentiary. You gave this bill to a bank teller at First National yesterday at around two-fifteen p.m.”

“I stopped at a bank and had them make change for me,” I admitted. “What’s wrong with that?”

Galen looked around for a moment, then pointed out several features of the bill, how certain parts were missing from some of the designs, how some of the lettering wasn’t properly aligned, a few other things.

“Are you telling me–”

“This is counterfeit, Mr. Shaw.” His face was stone.

“Are you from the bank?”

He shook his head and said, “No, sir,” then took out his credentials. I looked at them and passed them over to Straker.

“Secret Service?” said Straker.

“Why not,” I grumbled. “Every other goddamn government agency is in town these days.”

Galen took back his credentials and pocketed them, then told me we needed to talk about where I got this counterfeit bill. I glanced over at Straker.

“Maybe we should finish our discussion another time,” I suggested.

“I’ll check in with you later,” he agreed, then rose from the table, nodded to Galen, and headed out the door. Galen watched him leave, then turned back to me, his face earnest.

“How’d I do, Mr. Caine?”

I broke into a broad grin.

“You did good, Jennings. You did real damn good.”