by Rick Polad
“Sure. What about it?”
“I’m wondering about the probably. Wouldn’t you know for sure? I can’t imagine that someone shows up for work in an egg costume.”
“I would if I saw them, but I don’t get inside much, and if they use midgets they probably bring them in through the tunnels. They wouldn’t want the show walking down the Midway.”
“Tunnels?”
“Sure. When the place was built, they dug tunnels to move supplies and food for the stands. It’s like a tiny city down there.”
I was amazed and wondered if Stosh knew. Dad certainly didn’t or he would have told me. “How do you get into the tunnels?”
“There’s entrances leading down from the major attractions and the supply shacks. And there’s a hidden opening out onto the river.”
A busboy cleared the table and the waitress asked if we wanted anything else. We didn’t and she left the check.
“Have you been down there?”
“Yes, but not often, and not in a while.”
“Can you get me down there?”
“Be tough. Why do you want to?”
I smiled. “Because it’s there. I’m still a little kid at heart. And when I don’t have answers to questions I keep poking around till I find them.”
“And where are you poking today?”
“I already started,” I said with a smile.
Harvey smiled back, but with a knowing look like an adult putting up with a wayward child that they loved anyway. Since Harvey would probably never join my inner circle of trusted people, I didn’t want to share everything with him, even though my gut told me I could.
“I’m going to start checking on employees. Block gave me a list of six in the last two years that includes your three.” I gave him the names. “I’d like to catch them at home. Do you know any of them?”
He nodded. “I know all of them, but I know Percy best. I like to hang around the Bobs. I help him pick up souvenirs.”
“Souvenirs?”
He smiled. “When the coaster flies around the last turn, all kinds of things fall out of the sky… coins, watches, even a set of false teeth.”
“Don’t people come looking for them?”
“Sometimes, but usually not. Percy has kind of a museum of items in the shack under the Bobs.”
“Where does Harold work?”
“He runs one of the trains.”
After finishing my coffee, I said, “I was going to come to the park and nose around a little more, but my presence isn’t exactly welcome so I don’t want to be there long. If I stop by Wonderland around eleven would you be able to tell me who’s at work? If they’re not working, I’ll drop by their house and have a chat.”
“Sure. Why don’t you wear a disguise.”
I smiled. “Like what?”
“How about a jester hat?”
“Yeah, nobody would notice that! Thanks for the suggestion.”
“Just trying to help.”
“Did you notice anything different about Benny recently?”
“Different how?”
“Don’t know… the way he acted, or things he said.”
“Not that I recall. What are you thinking?”
“Well, he was there before Walters, so he and you differ from that group of hires in the last two years. If something is going on with Walters and those people, Benny wasn’t involved. But Benny was the first to die. So something changed. There’s gotta be a connection there somewhere.”
“Sorry, Spencer. I can’t…” He pursed his lips and looked like he was thinking. “There was something he said a few weeks back.” He thought some more. “I don’t remember what we were talking about, but somewhere in the conversation he said he was going to be free.”
“Free from what?”
Harvey shook his head. “I have no idea. Sorry.”
“Okay, thanks. If you think of more, remember it.”
“Sure thing.”
I picked up the bill and asked for his phone number and address.
“Why are you asking?” He looked suspicious.
I shrugged. “In case I have to get ahold of you before breakfast or cancel if something comes up.”
“Okay, but keep it to yourself.” He wrote the numbers down on a napkin as he explained. “I want as little to do with the world as possible. I don’t bother it… I don’t want it bothering me.”
That didn’t seem to fit with the carefree jester and I told him so. He just stared at me with what I thought was a bit of sadness. Made me wonder what had come before the jester.
As we walked to the door, I decided to stop by the office and check with Sam, then head over to the park and play it by ear from there. Sure was nice not having to punch a clock.
Chapter 23
An accident kept me from getting to my office without backtracking down side streets, so I parked a block away and walked. The exercise wouldn’t hurt. I entered by the front door for a change and admired my name on the window. Samantha hung up the phone as I walked in.
“If that was new business, I’ve got enough at the moment,” I said with a grin.
“Good morning, Spencer. I got all the addresses. The list is on your desk.”
“Yes, thanks. I picked it up a couple hours ago.”
I was almost to my office when she said, “Spencer.”
I knew by the tone what was next. I didn’t know how to handle it.
“It doesn’t look good for my father, does it?” She was staring down at her desk.
I walked back to her and touched her shoulder.
“At least there is no bad news. Someone could be trying to find out who he is and having as little luck as we are.” I knew how stupid that sounded, but it was all I had. If someone found a confused stranger their first call would be to the police.
She looked up at me with tears in her eyes. I felt helpless and had trouble keeping my own tears back when I thought of my folks. I needed to get to work.
Harold’s was the closest address on the list. If he wasn’t home I’d ring some doorbells.
***
At eleven o’clock, Harold and Barbara Reid still weren’t at work. I thought I saw Mooney but was pretty sure he hadn’t seen me.
Harold lived in the middle of a block on Paulina, north of Fullerton… a short, one-change bus ride from the park. The building was an old wooden rooming house that had been turned into an apartment building and ignored for quite a while. The gate in the chain link fence was missing, and rotted siding told a story of neglect.
The front door screeched open and I stepped into a dingy foyer with remnants of old wallpaper on plaster walls. Mailboxes were on the left wall, but none were locked. They all had a number but most didn’t have names, and all of the buzzer buttons were missing. 2D did have a name—Harold Dejan. When I saw the missing buzzers I wondered how I would get in, but the entry door wasn’t locked—it wasn’t even closed all the way.
Standing inside the door, the only sound I heard was faint music coming from the first floor hall. Sounded like Glenn Miller. I walked down the hall and back, noticing a Manager sign on one of the doors. I took a deep breath, patted the gun under my left arm, and started up the wooden stairs. 2D was in the middle of the hall on the right. I listened at the door, heard nothing, and then knocked. No answer. Another three knocks had the same result. A few seconds later I heard a door open and close on the first floor. I couldn’t tell if it was an apartment or the entry door, but no one came up the stairs.
Pulling my hand up into my sleeve, I tried the door knob. As I tried to turn it the door opened a crack. I listened another minute, wondering if I should enter the room. I heard nothing except my heart beating. It took some deep breaths to slow it down. I was dreading what I might find. If Harold was dead I shouldn’t be in the room alone with him in case someone saw me there. But if he wasn’t home I wanted to look around. Deciding to take a look, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The blinds were down
and it took a minute for my eyes to adapt. I was the only one in the room. Aside from a few meager pieces of furniture and a worn throw rug on the floor, the room was even more bare than Samantha’s apartment. I opened the drawer in the table next to the bed and found only a Bible. There were a few dingy shirts and pants hanging in the closet. Dirty dishes filled the sink. I quickly looked in the kitchen drawers and under the bed and found nothing of interest. I pulled the door shut and headed back down the stairs. When I got to the bottom, I heard a voice.
“Can I help you, mister?”
A scruffy old man was mopping the linoleum floor.
“No, I was just looking for someone,” I said. “But he wasn’t in.”
“Who?”
“Just a friend, have a nice…”
“I’m the manager here. I know the comings and goings if you’re looking for someone.”
“Well, I’m looking for Harold Dejan. Have you seen him?”
He shook his head and leaned the mop against the wall. “Not since yesterday, but if you’re looking for him, you’re on the wrong floor.”
“2D is what the tag says in the foyer.”
“Yeah, I guess it does. Been meaning to change that. He moved to the first floor a while back. Trouble with one of his legs so he couldn’t climb the stairs too well.”
I decided to come back later when I could avoid the manager, so I thanked him and turned to go.
“Let’s just go see if he’s in.”
He led the way down the hall to 1C and knocked on the door. No answer, thankfully. I wasn’t quite sure what I’d say if he answered.
“What are you wanting Harold for? Friend of yours?”
“No, not exactly. He didn’t show up for work this morning, so I was asked to check up on him. He’s usually pretty dependable.”
“Yes, he loves working at the park. All he talks about is driving that train. Gives him something to look forward to. Most of these fellows in here don’t have anything important like that.” He shook his head sorrowfully and I wondered if he was talking about himself.
“Why don’t we take a look,” he said. “Just in case.”
I had a really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
The manager knocked again and then pulled out a set of keys and opened the door. There wasn’t much light in this room either, but there was enough to throw a yellow pall over a body sitting in a chair with his head rolled back. The manager gasped. I stopped myself from asking if it was Harold. The assumption would have to suffice. Harold’s eyes were wide open and his tongue hung out under a graying moustache. There was a red welt around his neck and stubble on his chin. I looked around for a phone, but there was none.
I asked the manager to go call the police and say that Spencer had told him to call. I gave him Stosh’s direct number. While he was gone I did some snooping. An envelope on the dresser contained several slips of paper, one of which was an IOU to Joey Mineo for two-hundred-twenty dollars. Certainly not enough to die for, but an odd coincidence.
The manager came back but wouldn’t come in the room. “They’re coming,” he said.
I nodded and thought about Harold’s train. You never knew about other people’s lives. As I looked at Harold, I thought something as simple as a train was all some people needed to bring some happiness. And it could be taken away so easily.
Twenty minutes later, Lt. Powolski followed two uniformed cops down the hall. I introduced him to the manager and he asked one of the uniforms to get his statement.
“I assume you wouldn’t listen to me if I suggest you go up to Wisconsin,” he said.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Trouble would still be here if I left, Stosh.”
“Yup. Not going to lose my job anytime soon. But your stirring has opened the barn doors. I’m not worried about the trouble… I’m worried about you. Who do we have here?”
I explained what had brought me to Harold’s room.
He bent and looked closely at Harold’s neck. “Looks like a rope burn. Not clean like the woman. He must have struggled. Examiner should be here shortly.” I nodded to a detective whom Stosh had taken aside for a chat. The usual procedure. Two more made for a crowded room and I asked Stosh if I could leave.
“You have anything to add to this that you’re going to tell me about?”
I didn’t and told him so. The only thing I had was the IOU to Joey, and his men would find that.
“What’s next?” he asked with a wary look.
“I have a few stops to make. I’m worried about Harvey. I think I’ll stop by and warn him.”
He took a step toward me and pointed his finger. “That park is the last place I want you. We’ve got three corpses because you’ve been putting your nose in where someone doesn’t want it. You want to protect Harvey? Stay away from him.”
I squinted at him. “I wonder who doesn’t want me there.”
“I’m sure as hell going to find out. Do you get my message?”
“Got it. I’ll see you tonight. But I need a couple of favors.”
“Which are?”
I handed him a copy of the list of employees and asked if he’d check them for records. He agreed and asked what the other favor was.
“I need to think about it some more. I’ll let you know tonight.”
He sighed and went back to work.
***
I stopped by the office after lunch to check in and plan my afternoon. All but one of the addresses were on the north or northwest side. Jeanette Kimball lived in Streeterville, a few blocks from the lake, still technically on the north side but not by much. I got out a map and wrote all the names in red and made a roadmap for the afternoon. But my first stop would be to pay a visit to Joey Mineo.
Chapter 24
Joey Mineo’s office was just a storefront and he was never there. A secretary who was in her seventies answered the phone for his legitimate business. The last time I needed Joey I was given an address on Belmont which turned out to be an ice cream parlor, so that’s where I headed. The front was a soda fountain and the back, where I had been directed after stating my business, was a plush room I would almost call a den where Joey entertained guests. A formidable fellow about twice my weight had sat at the back table. I had needed a password to get past him—upset.”
The sun was casting longer shadows as I parked in front of the parlor. I was hoping they hadn’t changed the password.
The same moose was sitting at the same table reading a paper. He watched me as I walked up to him. The only thing that moved were his eyes. I told him I wanted to see Joey and he asked for the password. Upset just got me a blank stare. After deciding that he could stare forever, I told him who I was and that I’d like to see Joey about a money matter.
He got up and knocked on the door to the back room. A small, horizontal panel in the door slid open, and he told whomever was on the other side that I wanted to see Joey and that I had an old password. A few seconds later the door lock clicked and the moose held out his hand.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ll take your gun.”
I gave him the gun after a hard stare that told him he could have my gun but I was still a tough guy.
He held the door open and another fellow who looked like a milk-toast showed me in. But looks were deceiving. I knew this guy could handle a gun better than most or he wouldn’t be in the room.
Joey was sitting in a plush red chair in a dark room with a thick carpet, paneled walls, and no windows. I knew there were extra layers of brick on the back wall. I figured the mayor’s office wouldn’t look much better… but would have windows.
Joey spoke first. “Spencer Manning. I enjoyed our chat at the park. What brings you here?”
Our chat at the park had involved very few words, but it was always nice to know someone enjoyed spending time with me.
“Accounts receivable.”
I had his attention.
“Yours or mine?” He wasn’t smiling.
<
br /> “Yours.”
He just waited—a man of few words. The milk-toast was sitting on a couch against the back wall. He wasn’t smiling either.
“I’m working on a case that looks to have crossed your path.”
“And what case would that be?” Joey asked.
“Missing kids.”
He sat straight up in the chair and grabbed the arms. “Hey! I got nothin’ to do with kids!”
“Not sayin’ you do, Joey. Just sayin’ there’s maybe some things in common.”
“Okay. You remember that. I got a soft spot for kids and I don’t want nobody sayin’ otherwise.”
“Good to hear.” I paused long enough for him to ask questions, but he didn’t so I continued. “I’m a big picture guy, Joey. This case has lots of little pieces that seem to make no sense. But I’m thinking that if all the pieces are put together they might make a nice picture.”
“And I’m one of those pieces?”
I nodded.
“And you’re here because…? You mentioned accounts receivable.”
“I did. Looking for some help to put the pieces together and maybe give you some help along the way.”
I glanced at the milk-toast who hadn’t moved a muscle. He didn’t take his eyes off me and didn’t blink. But I was sure he would move pretty quickly if he had to. Joey pulled out a cigarette and milk-toast was instantly there with a match.
“You have my interest, Manning. What are the pieces?”
“It started with a missing boy from the south side who worked at Riverview. The last place he was known to be was at work more than a week ago. He didn’t go home. I started asking questions at the park and two days later Benny Parker is found dead in the Tunnel of Love. Then Saturday you show up and have a talk with Meyers. I put Benny into that picture and I come up with Benny on your receivables list.”
He reached for the ashtray and settled back in the chair. “That’s a nice story, Manning. But why would I be interested? I can’t get money from a stiff.”
“No, you can’t. And I figure you wouldn’t bother for small change. So it must be a nice sum, say in the thousands… maybe ten.” I wasn’t going to tell him how I knew how much it was… let him think I was a genius. “And for a sum like that you’d want some answers.”