“Harvey was an informant for the Downtown Gang?” Burton bolted upright. “Says who? I doubt jailbirds make reliable sources.”
Sammy scowled. “They have no reason to lie. Especially to me.”
So Harvey was double-crossing both Burton and Johnny Jack? What if the gangs found out, and had him killed?
The men locked eyes, but Burton looked away first. “Interesting. Who else knew?”
Sammy shrugged. “Poor sucker had it coming to him. Messing around with the gangs. What burns me is both gangs let me take the rap.” He rammed his fist on the table. “They needed a scapegoat, and I was the perfect patsy. My arrest was just for show—to make the gangs happy.” Sammy fixed his gaze on Burton. “Everyone knows that gangsters dole out a lot more dough than a cop makes in a year. Or for that matter, the Feds.”
Burton bristled. “What are you implying? I’m not for sale.”
“Good for you. Too bad all the cops aren’t as clean as you.”
I squirmed in my seat, watching the fireworks. While Burton and Sammy sniped at each other, our heads swiveled back and forth as if watching a heated tennis match at Wimbledon. Amanda and I got an earful, but the men didn’t seem to notice we were even in the room.
“It’s getting stuffy in here.” Sammy suddenly stood up, then stormed out the door, with Amanda following on his heels, loyal as a puppy. I watched as he stomped around the yard like a rodeo bull.
After they went outside, I sat next to Burton on the couch, his legs almost a foot longer than mine. “You need to tell Sammy about Harvey. About your arrangement.”
“What good would it do now? The poor sap is already dead.”
“So what did you tell the cops? Did you mention the cowboy?”
He shook his head. “I said we had a reliable witness, but I didn’t want to alert the killer.”
“You didn’t mention Buzz or the Oasis by name, did you?”
“Of course not. I said the witness had to remain anonymous for now, for his own safety. I didn’t mention the fact he’s only a kid.” He sipped his lemonade, staring at me over the glass. “I also didn’t bring up your friend at the Surf Club. What’s her name—Candy?”
I blinked, caught off guard. “Candy? What about her?”
He smiled. “You forget how tall I am. I saw the word cowboy written on the program she gave you. If two different people claim the killer was a cowboy, that’s no coincidence.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Honestly, I was glad he’d found out on his own, so I didn’t have to betray Candy’s confidence. “Any idea who he is? Do the cops have any new leads?”
“Not yet,” Burton said, tight-lipped. Then he stood up, put on his hat and held out his arm. “Why don’t you walk me to my car?”
Curious, I followed him outside where Sammy and Amanda sat on the porch swing. “Thanks for the delicious feast, ladies. My compliments to the chefs.”
Then Burton turned to Sammy. “Can I give you a lift?” Seemed he wanted a private audience to discuss the ice man murder.
“Are you nuts? How would that look—me riding around town in a Fed agent’s breezer?”
Good point. “Fine. Let me know if you find out anything else.”
Burton led me to his car, out of earshot. “I swear, I had no idea Harvey spied for the Downtown Gang. No-good double-crosser.”
“I’m surprised, too.” This was getting complicated. “You think the gangs found out and had him killed?”
He nodded. “Johnny Jack probably knows everything I do—and more. I should’ve figured that punk kid would sell himself to the highest bidder.” He kicked his shoes in the dirt, scuffing the toes.
“You went to a lot of trouble for nothing. And Sammy ended up in jail.” I felt frustrated, like a dog chasing its tail, only getting dizzy. “Did you see today’s paper? Sammy even made the front page.”
He whistled. “Your reporter pals did a number on him. But maybe it wasn’t a complete waste of time. Why don’t you stick close, see what else Sammy found out in jail?”
“Forget it! Look what happened to your last snitch.”
His face fell. “That’s not what I meant. Sammy could have overheard something else that might help both of us.”
Frankly, I didn’t want to get between him and Burton. I’d have better luck asking rival gang leaders Ollie Quinn and Johnny Jack to smoke a peace pipe together.
Down the block, I heard a loud motor start and saw a shiny gold Bentley ease down the street, slowing to a crawl, taking in the view. “Have you ever seen that gold Bentley before?” Shaken, I tried to memorize the license plate numbers, but it sped up and roared past.
“No, why?” He watched it drive away, eyes narrowed.
“The same car was following me today, when I went to the store.” Now I knew it wasn’t a fluke.
“Following you? That Bentley? Where? Did you see anyone?”
“The windows were dark. Maybe I imagined it all,” I fibbed, not wanting him to worry or consider me a ditzy dame like in ‘The Perils of Pauline.’ I turned to go, adding, “Thanks for last night.”
“My pleasure. I hope we can do it again soon?” He started to lean over, but I pulled away. What would people think?
I looked around to see if Sammy and Amanda were watching, but luckily they’d left the porch. “See you later,” I told Burton as he got into his car. He drove off without waving good-bye.
What did I expect after giving him the cold shoulder?
Inside the parlor, Sammy razzed me: “Getting chummy with the local Probie, are we?”
“No, we’re only friends.” I blushed. “Besides, this was all your bright idea. You said to humor him, remember? Or was that only hooey about keeping your enemies closer?”
“I don’t mind you getting close, but don’t get too close. You never know who you can trust in this town. Anyone can be a snitch, like Harvey.” Sammy gave me a warning look. “Say, how did he know your pal, Agent Burton? I can’t figure out what he meant by, ‘Ask Burton.’ Did he tell you anything?”
What good would it do to reveal the truth now? Still, my first loyalty was to Sammy. Didn’t he have a right to know?
On impulse, I blurted out: “Burton told me this in confidence, but it may not matter, now that Harvey’s gone. Turns out that Harvey was also Burton’s informant.”
“What? So Burton was behind this mess?” Sammy shot up and paced around the room, eyes blazing. “That son of a bitch! Why doesn’t he mind his own damn business?”
“Burton’s only trying to help. He wants to find the source of the wood alcohol, just like you.”
True, I didn’t like his scare tactics either, but I didn’t want Sammy getting in trouble ‘cause of me and my big mouth.
“Now you’re defending that asshole?” Sammy scowled. “Well, it figures Harvey tried to work both angles. He was always poking his nose into my business, hanging around my bar like a goddamn spy. No surprise he turned out to be a stool pigeon for the Feds.”
“I bet that’s why the gangs put out the hit.”
“Maybe they found out he was on the take from your new beau.” Sammy stood up to leave. “Thanks for lunch, ladies. I’d better go check on the Oasis.”
I overlooked his jab, changing the subject. “Say, before you run off, I want to mention the rummy we saw last night on the Seawall.”
“So what? Rummies are a dime a dozen in this town.”
“Trust me, this was different. The poor sot seemed to be going blind after an all-day bender. Wonder where he got his liquor?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. What happened?”
After I described the situation, Sammy seemed alarmed, and headed for the door. “Jazz, can you show me where you ran into him? I want to question the barkeeps in the area, try to find out who’s delivering their booze. Besides, I could use some fresh air after being cooped up all night.”
“What about the apple pie?” Amanda looked disappointed, running after us. “Hey, don’t forget me!”
The three of us caught the trolley to the Seawall, and got out by the Hotel Galvez. As we crossed the busy street, I noticed how different the crowd was during the day, compared to last night. Now the beach was filled with families picnicking by the shore, and children riding bikes on the Seawall. To me, it looked dangerous, but the cyclists seemed fearless as they pedaled down the long, wide stretch of concrete, oblivious to the jagged granite rocks below.
Arms linked, Amanda and I flanked Sammy as we walked along the Seawall, enjoying the salty sea air. A warm breeze brushed my face, my frock; the crashing waves sounded soothing. Sammy’s good mood returned, and he told us amusing stories about the other inmates: one man who crowed like a rooster at dawn, the other who sang the blues all night and beat on his cell bars using his shoes like drumsticks. Sounded more like a funny farm than a jail.
Sammy stopped and faced me. “So how was your date with Burton? I hear you two tied one on.” Gee thanks, Amanda. “Did he try anything? If he did, so help me...” He raised a fist in warning.
“Relax. Believe it or not, Burton was a gentleman. He wanted to confront the Beach Gang at the Surf Club, find out about the ice man hit. But Quinn beat us to the punch. He had the host deliver a bottle of fancy French Champagne to our table.”
“You don’t say.” In retrospect, the story seemed almost humorous. Even Sammy stifled a laugh. “Wish I could’ve seen Burton’s face. Did you drink any?”
“Naturally. Why pass up a chance to enjoy fine French Champagne?” I smiled. “Say, guess who I bumped into last night? One of your old flames, Candy. She works there as a hostess.”
Sammy blinked a few times. “I wondered what happened to that dame. She quit without giving us any notice.”
Amanda made a face. “Good riddance. Who needs her?”
“Think she left because of Andrews?” I asked.
Sammy shrugged. “Maybe it was my fault. She was upset because I wouldn’t give up my ‘harem,’ as she called my lady friends. What did she have to say?”
Nervously I looked around, but the wind and waves helped drown out our conversation. “Candy said she heard someone bragging in the bar about the hit on the ice man. Sounds like he was waiting for the right moment to attack, but got lucky when you took the fall. Then when we left, she gave me a program with the word cowboy written inside.”
“Cowboy?” His face fell. “That’s all? No name, nothing else?”
“The host was hovering around so she couldn’t say much, but it confirms Buzz’s story.”
“We need to pay her a visit at the Surf Club right away. I’m sure they’ll let us in since you’re a regular. I hear they took your picture and everything. You’re famous now,” Sammy said with a smirk.
“Want my John Hancock?” I shot back. “Don’t blame me! A shutterbug snuck up and took our mug shots with the Champagne, trying to blackmail Burton.”
“Too bad you can’t keep them as a souvenir of your romantic date,” he said dryly.
“It wasn’t a date. The only reason I went out with him in the first place was to help you!” I hated fighting with Sammy, especially over Agent Burton. I stormed off toward the Crystal Palace, then pointed at the spot where we saw the wino. “The man was there, stumbling down the Seawall.”
Sammy stopped, scanning the area. “Wait here,” he ordered before he entered a seedy-looking bar. Typical tourist traps, luring suckers craving cheap liquor and even cheaper women.
After he left, I turned to Amanda. “Sorry I lost my temper. Glad you two seem copacetic.”
She beamed, as if nothing had happened. “I think everyone had a really swell time at lunch, don’t you?” Only Amanda could pretend our lunch was a cakewalk, despite the obvious fighting and friction.
A few minutes later, Sammy reappeared with a grin on his face. “I knew the bartender so he gave me the name of a rum-runner they use. Also there’s a joint nearby I want to check out. Let’s go have a look.” As we walked down the Seawall, I trailed behind Sammy and Amanda, feeling like a fifth wheel.
On the beach, I heard children laugh as they splashed in the water, arms flailing while they tried in vain to outrun the tide. A creamy white seagull squawked overhead, its graceful wings outstretched like a ballerina.
We’d almost reached Murdoch’s Bathhouse when a loud scream carried over the roar of the waves. Several folks had gathered on the beach, forming a semi-circle.
A woman cried out: “Help! Call the cops!” Holding onto our hats, we ran toward Murdoch’s and rushed down the concrete steps to the beach. A small group surrounded a body lying on the sand. A drowning victim?
As we got closer, my knees buckled and I tried to steady myself, feeling faint. Amanda shielded her eyes and leaned against Sammy.
A stocky man lay face-down on the beach, in soaking-wet blue jeans and a denim shirt, wearing soggy cowboy boots.
******