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.”