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What I want is a nice house, a good husband, and a successful career. Based on my desire for the third item, I wasn’t banking on the first two.
~Personal diary, Lou Tanner
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BEING SLAPPED A COUPLE of times got my circulation going but not my brain. It was someone’s thumb shoving my shoulder wound waking me up. I yelped. Who wouldn’t.
Son of a bitch.
Skates emptied his lungs into my face.
“He was wrong. You are tougher than you look,” he said. He thought about something, long and hard, but never did explain.
My brain was turning somersaults in my skull. Lockwood?
No. That didn’t work right. It wasn't Elliott Lockwood throwing me under the trolly. My brain was fuzzy but I tried something, albeit weak, to trick Skates into giving me information. "So, Mason ratted me out.”
“I ask the questions.”
“It was Mason, wasn’t it,” I choked out.
He shook his head and his lips twisted into a smile.
As my brain cleared, I got a better look at my situation, and it was grim. Cold seeped into my chest and worked its way down to my hands. I was tied into a chair, four of Skates’ Brunos were snickering from the other side of the room, and Skates, himself, had already threatened me. I had every right to believe — this was it. That twinge of shame squeezing your ribs, the one only someone who’d blundered into their own death could feel? My ribs were telegraphing an emergency warning to my brain.
“Let us start again, Dollface. What do you have on Willkie and me and business.”
If this was it, I wasn't dying until I learned all the who and why. Was Mason the rat? He had to be. “What would I have, I’m just a dumb bimbo, remember?” That got me slapped hard. My teeth hurt. God, did anything not hurt? Still, hurt equals alive. And I wanted to live.
He picked up the cigar again, enjoying the hell out of it. Taking a moment to savor the situation, he grinned for the threesome playing cards and commenting under their collective breath.
I tried to shift. My heart rate was trying to break speed records. I wanted to live!
“Spit it out. Whatja’ got on me?”
“Why aren’t you asking Mason? He’s the guy with all the answers.”
The more I thought about it, the less my screaming brain believed in a Mason and Skates alignment. Who knows, maybe if I kept pressing Skates — getting him to talk and to keep talking — he might say something useful.
And, maybe I could use the time to figure out how to escape here. Where the hell was here?
He brought his cigar dangerously near my face. I could feel the ember trying to sizzle a hole in my skin. “You’re all full of questions, but that isn’t how this works. Here, you ain’t a detective. You’re invisible. You don’t exist.” The glowing cherry was right in front of my left eye. “I dunno who this Mason is. Who is he? Ex-lover?”
I hate it when I’m right. “A mug who might make you rethink what you’re doing.” Or not. I was fighting off visions of my life, which was only three minutes from start to end, by my guess.
“Detective Somerset, now he was helpful.” Skates offered.
Somerset? I opened my mouth to ask how it was Somerset was speaking to Skates.
I stopped.
Damn.
Oh, I’m such a sap sometimes.
He laid one across my face and for once, I didn’t care. And in those moments that lingered while the pain across my mouth faded, I understood what I’d been missing. He must have knocked my intelligence back into place.
Escape wasn't just for my own life now.
I had one shot at this. “You’re a Patsy, Skates. A big, dumb-as-a-stump Patsy, and you’re about to lose everything.”
His expression went stony and he raised his hand again. I stuck my jaw out in his direction daring him to smack me around some more. “Go ahead. Slap me. You’re lucky I’m stuck in this chair, otherwise I’d slap you back.”
The sides of his mouth turned up for half a second. “I believe you. So, how am I a Patsy?”
“You made certain you can’t be allowed to live after tonight. Your boys, too.” The mumbling in the corner stopped. “You caught on to too much. I just haven’t decided which way they'll take you out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ride with me on this.” I lowered my chin. “I’m an idiot ... a sap.”
“I’m not arguing.”
I chuffed a bit. “Me neither. But, I’m not stupid, you said so yourself. That’s the catch. I’m not the Patsy this time.”
“Sure you ain’t.”
“Here’s your ticket, board this train or you’ll be left behind at the station. And you know why you should?”
“No.”
“Because you’re a bigger sap than me and you’re gonna’ be taking the fall all by your lonesome, since I doubt your Brunos, over there, will fall on their swords to save you. Still, they might be taken out as collateral damage. Oopsie. Maybe they should play it safe and take off — now while they can.”
That bothered him. He gave his thugs a sharp look they seemed to understand.
“You got used, Skates. You’re gonna’ be blamed.”
He drew on that stinker, but this time, directed his smoke away from me. I had his attention now.
“Mind if I stretch?” I nodded chair I was tied to.
“How have I been used?”
“Stretch first. I'll explain why you’re a sucker in a minute. Promise. Trust me. Telling you every little teeny-weeny detail is my pleasure. Then, watching it all come true when you don’t believe me ...”
He gave one of his boys a sharp nod, the Bruno released me, and I got to move a few frozen muscles. These guys had no respect for a dame. Not that I expected them to. I leaned back in the chair but folded my arms. I made damn sure I looked like I had no interest in going anywhere. And for a bizarre few seconds, I didn’t.
“So, here’s how I see it,” I started. “You aided and abetted a kidnapping and maybe a murder. Such things don't bother you, under the usual circumstances. You think Somerset sent you to pick me up because he likes you? He needs you to dust me off. You’re doing his dirty work. Hell, I won’t waste your time with the age-old promise, 'if you let me go, I won’t tell the cops.'” I barked an awkward laugh. “Problem is, you were set up by a cop and he's making sure you are caught, taking you out of the picture, and wiping out the whole business.”
The cigar bounced at his lips anxiously, and I counted the inhales increasing. Skates gripped the stinker nearly to the point of crushing it.
But Skates wasn’t stupid, so I had to make sure the parts of the story fit. My problem was I was putting the puzzle together while talking. “Before, though, he used you to set up Valentini from the inside and banked on playing it either way — whether he got Valentini himself or you did. He expected you’d be too greedy to let a chance to take over all of Valentini’s businesses slip by. He calculated how far you’d go, and he played you.”
That would piss off Skates, but I still had his attention, which was all I wanted. I got the clear impression he was a user who didn’t like being used. Imagine that.
“And, yeah there’s more, the cork in the Genie's bottle's pulled out. An innocent man is going to turn up dead, with signs of you littered all over the crime scene, leaving you holding the bag on two murders which Somerset will accuse you of committing.” I didn’t expect him to care.
“Innocent man? Right. How about, I don’t care.”
Nope, he didn’t, and I didn’t expect him to.
“Besides,” Skates added, sounding so very pleased he was outwitting me, “no crime scene here.”
"Not here. Back in my Market Street office. Why do you think Somerset had you come pick me up there? So you would be seen, leave prints, or ..." I let Skates fill in the blanks.
"You ain’t dead — yet — and I don’t have some poor Schmoe in here to whack, so nobody’s got nuthin’ on me.”
“'Yet.' But that man is good at his job. He knows how to set up a crime scene, how to leave clues, how to say the right thing. He'll have you set up before the day is out."
"It'll be our word against his."
I tried not to laugh. "Somerset is a long-time cop, in good standing with his community. I'm new. But you guys?” I let him boil that for a minute.
“How do you savvy he ain't on the take, and I ain't the one controlling him?”
Nice try. My eyes narrowed. “Somerset? On the take?”
“Yeah. Once. Something small-fry. Rumor had him looking the other way for a bag o' silver.” He began to frown. “Other than that, no.”
“Looking the other way is a far cry from being a gangster’s right-hand man." I slowed my speech and made him lean forward to keep eye contact with me. "He’s obsessed beyond obsession with your boss.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” a Bruno from the corner said too loud.
“Assume Frannie doesn’t control Valentini’s empire as his wife or widow, because she’s, oh, I don’t know, dead? And Valentini, himself, is out of the way — in prison, perhaps? Or dead. Ever wonder what happens once Valentini is gone and you — as his second in command — are the only one left with all that lovely money and business? You think Somerset's obsession with Valentini ends after this? No, Skates, he'll find someone new to obsess over.”
Tightening his jaw and squinting his eyes, Skates repeated, “I don’t care. It ain’t like that. Me and the cop, I pay a little, he protects a little. See? I don’t care what theories you got.”
“So, Somerset told you he’d keep looking the other way. Only, he won’t. You’ll give him cash and he’ll save it as evidence. You’ll just become the Valentini substitute he hates now and obsesses over, and he might as well arrest you for murder and bribery, sooner rather than later.”
“Cops,” he snarled.
“If your hands are clean, you’ve got wiggle room. But kill me, or blamed for another murder about to happen, then you become Somerset’s perfect Patsy. Oh, and you have another problem.”
“I don’t care.” Oh, but he did care.
“Maybe not, until I turn up dead at your hands and the War Department asks why." I didn't know eyes could grow that big, especially on a rat-faced bastard like Skates. "You’ll care a lot, because Somerset can’t and won’t protect you from them. Sweetie, it’s all tied together. On top of everything else, you pissed in the War Department’s cereal bowl and that’s gonna’ cost you.”
Oh yeah, that got his attention. I was snaking around the explanation but appreciated where the fang-end was and how to use it.
I kept going. “The guy you bounced tonight, thinking he was a nobody? Cheap hat and coat. He wears them as a disguise, and it worked. Sure fooled you boys. Cheap-hat-and-coat-guy is a federal agent whose been assigned to follow me. I’m pretty sure you couldn’t care less about some G-man, but the War Department? If I go missing or turn up dead, Somerset will point his finger at you, and you’ll go from an annoying, second-rate thug trying to grab his boss’s dough to a top tier, anti-American, war criminal and potential traitor. You can handle some territory disputes and local power grabs, but are you prepared to take on the whole U.S. War Department — all by your little ‘ole self? Not quite what you had in mind, is it?”
He was following my logic. He waved off the Brunos who were taking too much of an interest in what I was saying, and in a move, I doubted was truly gracious, offered me a cigarette. Maybe to stop me talking for a minute.
I declined, politely. Yeah, even in the worst situations, I’m still Mrs. Collington-Tanner’s daughter, and she didn’t raise a simpleton. Leaning, painfully, over toward his desk, I pulled my coat closer to me and took out my own case. When he lifted an eyebrow, I explained I didn’t like what might be in his tobacco and besides, I smoked a better brand anyway.
Skates was trying to be cool, but I could hear the strain in his voice. “Why is the War Department following you?”
“Something happened last year, and important people want me to be aware they’re worried about me.”
All the color in Skate’s skin faded to terrified white.
“Welcome to the War Department’s cross hairs,” I noted. I let him light my cigarette. God, it felt good to take a deep drag. At least it also kept my hands busy, so I could hide the fact they were shaking. Hell, I had no idea if any of this was working. I didn’t care if this made sense all the way through to the end, but I had to go with it. There was nothing else I could do.
“Hey, sit back and enjoy the scenery for a moment. You need the front-end details. I first met Francis Coventry, the future Mrs. Valentini and step-daughter of Elliott Lockwood, the night I did a little errand for Treasury. Don’t ask.”
“About her ...” he started, but I waved him off.
“Look, Skates, before you tell me you couldn’t care less about the Coventry murder, let me finish the story and show you why you should.”
“I didn’t whack her.”
“I understand.”
“You do?”
“I do indeed.”
He leaned forward, listening, like his life might depend on it — and it did.
My Scheherazade Maneuver had no guarantee of success, but I wasn’t getting beaten or killed without solving this case. It was my first true case and damn it, if this was all the time I had, I would finish it.
Go slow, Lou. Don’t stumble on your own tongue.
“I didn’t know who Frannie was at the time I bumped into her. I thought she was some gal in trouble. She was being followed by a man with a knife. A big knife. He hadn’t cut her up. So, I saw to her safety and I wrote it off as another crazy incident in the City.”
“What's that got to do with me?”
“Don’t get ahead of things.” My brain was slipping on its rail and more steam wasn’t making it work any better. Slow and easy. Just like Daddy and Joe always taught me. “Frannie was blackmailing some former lovers who didn’t want it known they’d been diddling an underage girl. Turns out, her mother set it up.”
“Yeah, Irenie. What a piece of work.”
“Don’t you know it? Well, turns out Frannie got introduced to a big name in the racket business. You savvy this part of the story, don’t you? They went and did the unthinkable. They fell in love. Both of them were ready to skip town, ditch their old lives, and go live happily-ever-after. This didn’t sit so well with you, as Valentini would then sell off or trade off the clubs and you’d lose out. Frannie had to go.”
“I told you, I didn’t —”
“Slow down, I’m not saying you offed Frannie. The man with the knife had the real reason to kill her. So, first he tried to catch her the night I met her, then he tried to cut her up the next night — but she got away both times. It took two murderers to put her down.”
“It wasn’t me or my boys,” he protested.
“No, it wasn’t. You’re clear on that point. Nobody is saying otherwise. Not even Somerset. He’s laying it on Elliott Lockwood, since he couldn’t prove Valentini killed her.”
“Ha!” Skates barked and started laughing. “That cop is gonna’ find Lockwood has too many friends over at the Pointe to do anything to him. The Militia and he are tight.”
My heart sank, dragging chills down my skin with it. I hate it when I’m right.
“Skates, you could help me here, and I promise, I won’t forget it. You know parts of this story I don’t. Look, if you help me, I will explain everything I’ve found ...”
I also hate it when the universe plays with me.
My luck was something spectacular. Cab Proctor died before he told me who killed Frannie but managed to shield me from a hail of bullets. Elliott and I kept being interrupted and allowing me to use my brain and see what I was dealing with.
And now?
Spectacular luck!
The door flew open and in walked Green-eyed G-Man, Hayes. Badge out, hat on, and ticked-off expression burning up his face.
The Brunos had no idea what was happening.
Damn, my luck was on a roll.
“This is private property,” Skates protested.
“Private? Sure. That would make bringing this woman here against her will and without a warrant an act of kidnapping. A federal crime. Kinda' thing that gets a guy the Chair.”
“You got a warrant?”
Good question by Skates.
“Don’t need one. The victim is sitting right here.”
Touché. Though, I didn’t like him referring to me as a victim. And where the hell was Hayes’s back up? Oh, no — he wasn’t trying to do this alone?
I shook my head and drew in on the last of my cigarette.
“Maybe she came here on her own.” Skates tried. “Maybe she wants to be here. Maybe she’s helping my boss and we’re chatting like old friends?” He was pretty proud of himself. “You don’t know the dame or me. You don’t got nuthin’. Maybe I’m being a good guy and helping her with —”
“Uh, Skates,” I interrupted, “I don’t want to ruin your perfect set of maybe’s, but I’d like to introduce you to the man you tossed around tonight.”
Skates sneered at Hayes, the revelation creeping up his already creepy features.
Green-eyes moved his coat aside, showing a nice piece — a Westinghouse 4-21 Lightning Gun. Never saw one for real before. Murmurs from the other side of the room said the Brunos were impressed. Frankly, I was impressed. The electric gun was slick, big, and from rumors, able to fire more rounds than your average six-shooter. Oh — that was why he wasn’t worried about coming in here without back up. It was still a stupid, but courageous, move.
“Ask her,” Skates blurted out, giving me a look I couldn’t decide was warning or if he was begging me for help.
Okay, now that the boys remembered I was here and able to speak for myself, I decided to run a risky gambit. I put my cigarette out in the ashtray. “Now, gentlemen, this whole thing can be resolved if you, Skates, are willing to own up the dirt you gave me on Somerset’s crusade against Valentini, only if necessary, then I’ll tell Agent Hayes here I came of my own free will to discuss things ...”
I thought for a moment Green-eyes was about to have kittens.
“... and we'll leave it right there, since we’re working on a more pressing issue. No kidnapping, no threats, no slapping me around and Skates here just owes me later.”
Skates wasn’t done with me yet. “Maybe my boys over there don’t like the idea of my owing nobody. Hey, G-man, you can count, right? You can count more of us than you?”
“So can I,” I shot back before Hayes could answer. “I count three smart fellows who are smarter than to challenge the War Department.”
The Brunos exchanged looks and appeared to be less enthusiastic about getting into a brawl.
“Good. Now, I need to go. I’d like to see if I can still save my client’s life. You might want me to go too, if for no other reason than I can keep you from becoming an accessory to murder, at least a murder you don't want to be accused of. I might be able to keep you out of the papers. Isn't it worth a little gossip and a get-out-of-jail-free card?”
Skates opened his mouth, thought better of saying anything on the spur of the moment and shut up. He said nothing as I collected my overcoat and Uncle Joe’s hat.
They had my heater.
Damn. My brain was swimming in the ocean. Whatever they used to KO me was still slopping around my grey matter. I was higher than a proverbial kite and scared my plan was a failure. I had to escape. We had to escape. I gripped Hayes’s arm. Correction, I used the G-man as a crutch. I hurt like hell. I wasn’t walking straight, and every move reminded me I’d been worked over by a Louisville Slugger.
After giving Skates, and Brunos, a glare that should have reduced all of them to ashes, Green-eyes lead me out of the office.
I think the last fifty yards were the longest I’ve ever walked. I took the available time to give Hayes my hypothesis on the Coventry Murder. I think he turned a little greener than his eyes and moved along a lot faster.
“Sweetheart, you’re in over your head. Let me drag us out of here before we both drown.