Miserable Business

by PJ Eiden

  George poured over the Chicago Daily News. He was skeptical. “Wait a minute! You want me to believe the police happened to kill Mike Genna on the same day we shot him up? Either he was real unlucky, or the cops are trying to take credit for our hit! I bet Scalise and his scum buddy, Anselmi, shot it out with the cops and left Mike Genna’s dead body at the scene. It left the cops with someone else to blame. To frost this cake, Anselmi and Scalise got themselves arrested on a streetcar afterward.

  “Either way, there’s one less Genna in our neighborhood now and the murder twins are behind bars for a while. These first two Gennas were the tough ones. The others might be easier to take care of,” Hymie said.

  George was nursing a tall drink. “I think Tony Genna might be another devil in disguise.”

  Hank didn’t understand the statement. “You know Tony believes he’s part of the upper class and doesn’t like to get his hands dirty. How would we tease him into a gunfight?”

  Hymie studied his partners in crime. George appeared a bit inebriated. Hymie was pleased with the addition of Hank to the team. In the short time they’d worked together, despite living a small life, Hank demonstrated an ability to see through emotion and make sound leadership decisions.

  Hymie knew a different tactic was in order. “You won’t tease Tony Genna into a gunfight like other mobsters. This hit must be arranged by somebody Tony already trusts. I know a guy in his inner circle named Nerome. Tony likes him, but the feeling isn’t mutual. I think Nerome can be bought.”

  Hank looked down at his thick pant leg where the bandages were wrapped and shook his head. “Why would he do it, Hymie? If he’s been part of the Genna Gang a long time, why would he turn on the new boss?”

  Hymie nodded at the interesting question. Hank was trying to understand the traitor’s motivations. “Nerome feels underappreciated for all the things he’s done for the Gennas over the years. I’ve been trying to persuade him to work for us instead. He’s angry with Tony, but he hasn’t quite been ready to take matters into his own hands. Nerome’s initiation to join the Northsiders could be to let us take down the man he despises. We can frost his cake a bit more with some financial persuasion, too. I’ll bet he’ll help us with a place and time to find Tony.”

  Hymie peered out the second-story window at State Street below. “I’ll keep working this angle while you birds heal up.” He turned and pointed at his partners. “You better get ready. Before we’re finished, we’re going to own this town.”

  George raised his glass. “Finally, we’ll get the respect from Chicago we deserve!”

  “Hi, Tony, it’s Giuseppe Nerome. I know you can’t talk about private matters on the telephone like this, so you can just listen to me if you like. I will do the talking. OK?”

  “Sì.” Tony was living understandably in a state of paranoia since the murders of his two brothers. He was anxious to hear what his trusted friend wanted to tell him.

  “OK, first, I am so angry and saddened about the deaths of your brothers Angelo and Mike. The Northsiders are violent cruel men who will stop at nothing to destroy the Genna dynasty! We are all scared of their attacks. Are you afraid of these ruthless monsters, too?”

  Tony’s hand shook as he held on to the telephone earpiece. He nodded his head. “Sì.”

  “I have been thinking about this guerra with the Northsiders. I could help you plan an escape while we deal with them. Maybe you would like to go back to Sicily for a few weeks to spend time with the family.”

  For a moment, Tony’s mind escaped to his homeland and the cousins he saw at his brothers’ recent funerals. “Sì.”

  “OK, let’s meet tomorrow to make plans. Do you know Cutilla’s Wholesale Grocery at 1057 Grand Avenue? I am a friend of the owner, Charles. I’ll meet you there in the morning at 10:30. Have a good night and try to get some sleep. Tomorrow things will look different.”

  In the morning, Tony Genna drove north on Aberdeen Street and parked his car near the Grand Avenue intersection. He sat for a moment and watched the street corner. It was quiet in the neighborhood. He checked his pocket watch. It was 10:28 a.m. He stepped from the car and followed the sidewalk to the grocery. As he rounded the corner, he saw Giuseppe approaching from the east. The two men walked toward each other.

  Giuseppe extended his hand. “Tony, you found the market. I promise today will change your life forever.” He gave Tony a firm handshake and pulled him in close. Not letting go of Tony’s hand, Giuseppe spoke into the gangster’s ear, “You ungrateful monster! You’ve never rewarded me once for all the blood work I’ve done for you. Where’s my piece of the pie? Do you remember what they did to Dean O’Banion?”

  Tony turned his head to stare directly into Giuseppe’s eyes. He heard the sound of men approaching from behind, but Giuseppe wouldn’t allow him to turn. He heard the unmistakable clicks of two gun safeties.

  George and Hank drove their gun barrels direct into the back of Tony’s suit coat as Giuseppe stepped off to the side. Hank closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger. The gun rocked in his hand. Boom. George kept firing as Tony’s body slumped to the ground.

  Giuseppe’s face was pale. His eyes were wide as he stood facing the two shooters. Hank grabbed Giuseppe by the shoulder and pulled him away from the third Genna executed in less than a month. The three of them headed for the getaway car parked in the alleyway.

  Chapter 20

  Dogs

  Rachel Hilson folded the section of the newspaper twice to get it to a size needed for the file folder lying on her desk. She tucked it away inside while she stared at the clock. Precisely at 11:30 a.m., the bell rang. She jumped to her feet, placed the folder under her right arm, and dashed for the stairs leading to the typing pool on the second floor.

  The employees among the sea of desks were busy complying with the new rule. All customer documents were to be cleared away before leaving the work area. Evelyn Smith was stacking insurance forms and slipping them back into the green metal cabinets flanking the sides of her desk.

  Rachel skidded to a stop next to Evelyn’s chair. Her face was flushed. The cord from her telephone-operator headphones was dangling from the base of her neck like a pendulum on a grandfather clock. “You’re still here, Evie.”

  Evelyn reached over and stopped the swinging pendulum. “Of course, Rachel, you know it takes a little longer now to clear things off before lunch. You look like you’re in an awful hurry today. Do you still have time to eat with me?”

  “Well sure, but first I want to show you something amazing I’ve spotted!” Rachel planted the vanilla folder down on top of the desk papers and flipped it open. “Will you look at this?” She pointed to an advertisement in the Chicago Tribune and read aloud from it. “The new Fairview Kennel Club track out in Schiller Park has added electric lights and is now open for dog racing six nights a week!”

  Evelyn smiled. She was tempted to tell her brash young friend this was another of her crazy excuses to get out and socialize with random men. But she could see in her eyes this was a serious invitation. “Rachel, as long as we’ve been hanging out together, you’ve never once mentioned dog racing. Isn’t racing a man’s sport?”

  “Oh no, not at all! Not anymore. If men can do it, women can do it just the same. They are now calling dog racing the Sport of Queens. The gals on the first floor are bragging about how much fun this is. There’s even a ladies’ night on Wednesday when admission is free, and they have special contests with prizes for women. We’ve gotta go. It will be more fun than buying a new pair of dancing shoes. Come on. After all, isn’t Wednesday a special someone’s birthday?”

  Evelyn stood up and placed her hands on her hips. She saw the devilish smirk in Rachel’s eyes. “Oh no. I was hoping this year maybe you wouldn’t cause a big sensation for my annual milestone.”

  “What, and miss out on all the fun? No way.”

  Evelyn didn’t have anothe
r invitation to go out for her birthday, and it sounded interesting enough. “Tell me, who exactly has gone to see these dogs?”

  Rachel was floating on air now. “First, can you get away on your birthday?”

  Evelyn nodded with a mix of excitement and concern.

  “Let’s go find Claire and Millie in the cafeteria. They went last week and want to go again. They’ll take us along. Besides, it’s meant to be since your birthday falls on ladies’ night. And guess what else is going on at the track?” Rachel barely took a breath. “They are giving away a real string of pearls. Not those imitation beads we’ve been wearing. Maybe we can score the prize.”

  It would be two excruciatingly long days before Rachel’s wish came true. She spoiled a night’s sleep tossing and turning while thinking about the adventure with the girls.

  By morning, Rachel had it all figured out. During the work break, the women sat together in the cafeteria. “Ladies, to make the most of our evening tomorrow night, we should leave directly from work. Make arrangements and pack your glad rags along to the office in the morning, and we’ll change right after our shift. We can catch the Maywood bus out to the Fairview Kennel Club. The flier says buses run all evening until the track closes up.”

  Claire was a self-appointed fashion queen. “OK, girls. This place is a blast. What are you thinking of wearing for our big night? We’re young, and let’s face it, we’re pretty. We should cause a sensation!”

  The snub-nosed bus rounded the corner leaving a swirl of blue haze along the street. Millie pointed at the rolling coach coming their way. “This must be it. This is our chariot to the track!”

  The brakes on the green and white bus announced the stop with an ear-splitting screech. Evelyn covered her ears. “Is this thing even safe to ride in?”

  “Hurry up, fussbudget.” Rachel took Evelyn by the arm and scampered after Claire who was busy finding seats for them. Millie was in a party mood. She clutched a bag with a few secret gifts for the birthday girl.

  For each traffic stop, the bus brakes made their noisy plea for maintenance and the girls laughed. The roads to Maywood were crowded with a mix of people heading out to the track and the local folks returning home from the day’s work.

  The bus delivered the race spectators directly to the ticket gateway.

  Millie sipped a beer sample she snatched from the welcome booth on the way in the building. A tiny foam mustache covered her top lip. As she wiped the froth from her face, she raised her arm in the air for a second sample to rally the troops. “Come on, girls, they have a dart tournament going on in the refreshments area. Follow me. Who wants to try this beer?”

  Evelyn stopped and looked the place over. Several young men in gray trousers and blue shirts led leashed dogs around a grassy paddock area near a row of kennels. To Evelyn, the dogs looked as thin as a gazelle she’d once seen in a moving picture show about Africa. Crisp red flags flipped back and forth in the breeze from atop the tall wooden poles encircling the track. The fences, grandstands, and outbuildings were gleaming white with a fresh coat of paint. The place had the feel of a new attraction. The alluring smells of popped corn and roasting peanuts drifted through the entrance.

  Rachel broke the spell. “Come along, birthday girl. Let’s try our hand at throwing darts. It’s how we can win the string of pearls.”

  For a moment, Evelyn looked puzzled. “Do we have time for darts? Aren’t we here to watch the dogs run?”

  Rachel smirked. “You silly goose. You didn’t read the newspaper I gave you? We have a couple of hours of free time first. We don’t head up to the grandstands for the first race until 8:00 p.m.”

  Evelyn shrugged her shoulders and stood with her hands turned up. “Really? My bedtime is usually around 9:30.”

  Rachel stepped a bit closer to see if her friend was kidding.

  Millie turned around and put an end to the nonsense. “Not tonight it isn’t! You work too hard. It’s time to let it all out! Besides, you can sleep on the bus ride home if you like.”

  The women found their way to the refreshments room.

  Evelyn had the look of someone who’d been asked to jump in a cold lake. “I’m not a saloon girl. I’ve never played darts. Maybe I should just watch tonight.”

  Millie was undeterred. Handing Evelyn a wooden pencil, she took the first step. “Here, birthday girl, put your name on a contestant list tacked to the wall. You’ll have plenty of time for some practice. Claire can show you how to throw them. I’m going to get some real drinks for us. OK, ladies, who wants whiskey?”

  Claire observed the women warming up. “As far as I can see, none of these gals has ever thrown darts before.”

  Evelyn’s face brightened. “Say, you’re right. That pearl necklace is going home with one of these amateurs. Why not one of us? Let’s get on the list. I see every table in here has practice darts anyone can use.”

  Rachel held her left arm out straight stiff in front of her and pointed at the round bright-colored board on the wall. She studied it for a couple of seconds then bent her elbow back with her hand pulled in next to her cheek. With great dispatch, she launched her arm forward and sent a dart hurtling toward its target. The brass-tipped dart peened off the wall bricks about six inches below the board. “Darn it! I can’t seem to hit anything with these silly little darts, let alone be accurate enough to score points.”

  Clair collected the projectiles piled on the floor near the wall. She straightened the tip on one of the wounded darts. “Have you thought about closing your eyes when you throw?”

  Rachel was shocked. “Wouldn’t it be dangerous?”

  “Well, maybe if we first spun you around in a circle with your eyes closed. But I don’t think it would be any more dangerous than you already are.”

  Rachel was flabbergasted. With a red face, she fired back, “Why do we have to stand so far away from the board?”

  Millie stepped in. “Do you wear glasses?” Long pause. “Never mind. Have you tried drinking?”

  Rachel dropped the dart she held in her hand. “Does it help? I’ll try anything.”

  Millie smirked. “That’s the spirit. I often feel the room gets a little smaller after a couple of drinks. I have a glass of whiskey for you waiting on our table.”

  Rachel wanted to have some fun tonight. “Can I mix it?”

  Millie frowned. “Of course, you can. But I thought you were a tough girl.”

  The sun had begun to settle in the western sky creating a reddish-orange amphitheater through the clouds. The evening air dampened. One by one, the big yellow floodlights hanging from the wooden flag poles flickered on over the track and seating area. The crowd, building in numbers, cheered like they’d just been given the gift of sight.

  The girls missed the first dog race heat as the dart tournament ran long. Evelyn was still competing. While they watched, the girls enjoyed the cooler evening air. Claire stepped up next to Evelyn. “I know we’re new friends, but I’ve already heard about you. I feel like I know you in some ways.”

  Evelyn squinted at Claire with a discerning look. Evelyn was a conscientious woman, and people’s perceptions of her were important. “I find this a little odd. What exactly have you heard?”

  Claire was a country girl at heart. She thumped Evelyn on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “Oh, don’t get a bee in your bonnet or anything! It’s your reputation at work. I’ve heard you’re a good girl who sticks to the rules.”

  Evelyn smiled. “Well, I’m not always so careful. I’m here at the track with the seedy likes of you, aren’t I? One could get a reputation hanging out in this crowd.”

  They laughed.

  Claire twisted her fingers around the loose ends of her hair. “Yes, but I haven’t seen you bet anything.”

  Evelyn was embarrassed by the comment. She didn’t gamble and felt awkward about betting. “Well, I’m studying
the racing dogs. They all look too skinny to me. How do you pick one?”

  Claire smirked before she spoke. “Well, first before we settle on the dogs, I’m curious: Is there a fella in your life?”

  Evelyn smiled at the unexpected change of subject. “Well, sort of. He’s a neighbor, and I know he’s sweet on me.”

  “What’s his name?”

  Evelyn looked down at her tan leather shoes. One of her toes was already scuffed. “It’s Sid. His name is Sidney.”

  “Oh, Sidney sounds safe all right. Well, how did you pick him?”

  Evelyn stopped and stared into Claire’s intelligent eyes. “Do you want me to look for a dog who makes me laugh, smells good, and doesn’t bite?”

  Claire had finally met her match. “When it comes to the races, I don’t think you’ll get that close to them. How about choosing one by how they look, or if they have a swell name?”

  “Claire, are you talking about men or dogs?”

  Millie barged in. “Hey, did you get a look at those two gents over at the payout window?”

  Rachel stopped halfway into sipping her whiskey. Her jaw dropped. She spun around, winked at Evelyn, and nodded her head twice in the direction of the men. “Which one do you fancy?”

  Evelyn ignored the school-girl gestures.

  Rachel wouldn’t let it go. “Look at those two wealthy heartbreakers! Seems to me they need a couple of ladies to help them spend some of those winnings they are piling up. Evie, what do you say you and I pop over there and introduce ourselves?”

  Without looking up, Evelyn responded with a cool demeanor. “You think we should introduce ourselves to those two slick pinstripers? I think not.”

  “Why do you call them pinstripers? They’re not wearing suits and besides, it’s your birthday. Don’t you want to have some fun?”