The Woman In Blue (Nick O'Brien Case Files)

by David G. Johnson

  I take the smaller handgun and slip it into my own coat pocket.

  “So what do you make of it, Jimmy? You like Lupo for it?”

  “I don’t think so. From what we caught through the door, he seemed to be handling a few things while here. He could be right about the insurance. In this economy, if DeLanz snatched the diamonds, he might have done Abrams a favor. I can check into the insurance angle and let you know what I find.”

  “Yeah, you do that. Meanwhile did you catch what Lupo slipped about a partner?”

  “Yes, but DeLanz’s file didn’t show any known partners in his previous arrests. He seems to be a lone wolf operator.”

  “I know, but maybe this one was too hot to handle alone. I know of someone who might shed some light. If I am lucky, there may even be time to find out this evening. You go on home. I’ll see what I can dig up. I also plan to go back to the Bowery in the morning and poke around some of Gabriella’s neighbors to see if any of them know about Tommy or have seen him around.”

  “Not a bad idea. Maybe some Nosy Nell has seen something interesting.”

  “I should be so lucky. I’ll swing by your office afterward. You can let me know what you dig up on the insurance angle, and I’ll share what I find. These two might not have been the dead ends we thought.”

  “Yeah, okay Nicky, but you be sure and let me know if you plan to go around Lupo again. I know you are a scrapper, little brother, but that guy looked like six kinds of trouble. I don’t want to be dragging the river looking for you.”

  “I’m crazy, not stupid. I’m just hoping one of those errands Lupo is wrapping up doesn’t have anything to do with Marjorie. Do me a favor before you leave. Use the lobby phone and give Chauncey a call over at the New Yorker. Ask him to keep a double-close eye on her for me, would you?”

  “Why, you in a hurry?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to run if I am going to catch my contact tonight to see if I can find anything on that partner.”

  “No problem, Nicky. Glad to do it. Say, you really are falling hard for this one, aren’t you?”

  You have no idea.

  “Nah, it’s just she’s only paid through today is all. I want to make sure nothing happens to her before I get the next advance.”

  “Hmm, I see.”

  Dirty rat, reads me like a book.

  Chapter Eight – Penny LeBeaux

  As I wheel into the offices of The Sun newspaper, my head is busy organizing all the facts I know so far. Six hours ago, I was sure there wasn’t more than a single lead left to follow, and a weak one at that. Now my head is swimming with Rosario, Lupo, and the latest, some mysterious partner in Boston. This case is turning into a real brain-pickler.

  Lupo said Tommy disappeared from Boston about the same time the diamonds did. That could be a coincidence, if I believed in coincidences. Tommy is mixed up with those Boston rocks as sure as I’m Irish. Question is, did Tommy make off with the stones, stash them with someone he shouldn’t have, and go into hiding? Was it a double-cross with this mysterious partner? Or, did he get caught with his hand in the cookie jar and wind up in a hole somewhere for his trouble? I can finally catch a break if, maybe, Penny can help me put a couple of these pieces together.

  Penelope LeBeaux is the quintessential crime reporter. She is a spunky little skirt, ginger hair, eyes the color of heather on the meadow, and a gently-freckled face that gives her a kiddish character without detracting from her womanly attractiveness. I’ve seen Penny dolled-up on a couple of occasions, and the transformation is remarkable. This lively tomboy can change into an auburn-haired beauty when the occasion calls for it. That, however, is a masquerade.

  Underneath it all, Penny is a gritty, get-it-done journalist determined to make her way in a world where dames are scarce and not exactly welcomed with open arms. Not surprisingly, it is two hours past dinner and Penny is still banging away at her Royal No. 10 typewriter.

  “Hiya, Penny. Didn’t anybody tell you that you missed quitting time?”

  Penny jumps out of her seat at the sound of my voice, spins and starts toward me before she catches herself, smoothes her disheveled locks, and finally sticks up a hand in a boyish wave.

  “Hiya, Nick. How’s the snooping biz?”

  I stroll over to the desk next to hers and park myself, leaning on the corner.

  “I suppose I could ask you the same. Break open any major scoops lately? Drag any big-time gangsters into the spotlight?”

  Her eyes narrow a bit before returning to their hopeful brightness.

  “Nah, but it’s coming, Nick. It’s coming. I can feel it from the top of my head to the tips of my toes. You’ll see one day when that Pulitzer is hanging right there on my wall,” she says, pointing at an empty spot on a wall of clippings and awards, just waiting for that treasured plaque to arrive.

  “I don’t doubt it, kid. You just make sure you take cover before you go poking that hornet’s nest too hard.”

  “Don’t worry about me, Nick. I’m tough as nails, I am.” She says with a swagger in her voice, poking a thumb to her chest. “So what brings you around this late? You making bets on tomorrow’s headlines?”

  “Nah, nothing so easy. Actually I’m looking for you, Penny.”

  She blushes a bit, smoothes her hair again to no avail, and answers with just a hint of a quiver in her voice.

  “Really? For me?”

  I hate to dash her hopes.

  “Yeah, kiddo, I got a real tickler I’m trying to unravel, and I figure if anyone can help me dig up some dirt, it’s you.”

  The smile subtly slips from her face.

  “Oh, about a case, of course. What is it you are looking for, Nick?”

  “I need to know what you know about a small-timer named Tommy DeLanz. Maybe not enough on him to pique your interest, but I also want to see if you have anything about a heist a week ago where some diamonds were lifted from a Jewish mobster in Boston name of Hyman Abrams.”

  Penny’s smile returns, but it looks just a bit different somehow.

  “Oh yeah, Nick, I got loads on the Boston thing. I’ve been tracking Abrams and Linsey ever since their boss Charles ‘King’ Solomon was offed in January. I got a folder full of pictures and articles on that one. As far as DeLanz, the name doesn’t ring a bell, but if you can place his kisser, I got another whole file of pictures of mid-level gophers buzzing around the bosses.”

  “Yeah, his mug shot was in his jacket, so I’d place his face if I saw it. Look, kiddo, it’s already late. Why don’t you give me the files you got, go on home, and I’ll get them back to you tomorrow. No sense keeping you up all night.”

  She gives me that demure smile, looks at the floor, and kicks the leg of the desk gently before responding.

  “No, it’s no problem. Nothing would be keener than to spend the night with you.” She flushes a sudden beet red. “Uh, I mean, I’ve got no place else to be, and it’ll go faster with two pairs of peepers. You got that jacket with you?”

  “Nah, but I pulled the mug shot. I’ve got it right here.” She looks at the picture.

  “Kind of handsome, that one. Yeah, if he’s in any of the pictures I’ve got, we’ll spot him for sure.”

  “You are aces, kiddo. Just aces.”

  Penny pulls out of her filing cabinet a large file that looks like a couple hours work ahead.

  “This is the Boston Solomon file.”

  The next one she pulls out makes the last one look like a pamphlet.

  “This is the family bosses file. I got it separated by the families.”

  That’s a relief.

  “DeLanz is associated with the Mineo-Mangano family. At least that should narrow things down.”

  I start combing through the boss file while Penny sifts through the Boston one. It is half past midnight and I’m getting nowhere fast when Penny shouts.

  “Schnikes! Here he is at Solomon’s funeral!”

  We look together at the photo, and it clearly shows Abrams there, and fa
rther back in the photo is a grainy face that certainly could be Tommy DeLanz. Beside him, even farther from the camera and even grainier is a female who has ahold of the maybe-Tommy’s arm.

  “Great eye, kid. Not sure I’d have placed that face if I stared at that for an hour. It’s pretty grainy though, so it might be him and might not.”

  “It’s him, Nick, I know it sure as shooting. All my reporter senses are tingling. There’s a scoop here. You gotta keep me in on it, Nick, you just gotta. If there’s some big tie-in between Abrams and the Manganos, this could be that Pulitzer prize-winning article I’ve been waiting for!”

  “Keep your skirt on, kid. A grainy picture and a wild hunch ain’t a lot to hang a headline on. You run with this and your editor will nail your hide to the door. But listen up, let me hold onto this article for a few days, and in exchange, if something big breaks, I promise you’ll be my first call, okay?”

  She furrows her brow as she hands me the clipping.

  “I better be, Nick. You have no idea how long I’ve waited for you to call…uh, about a case I mean. You think you’re leaving me out in the cold on this one and you’ve got another think coming, mister!”

  “All right there, shooter, you’ve got my word, and you know that’s golden. I’ll let you know if I find anything solid tying Boston to the Manganos, deal?”

  She sprouts a skeptical look and then reluctantly extends her hand like a businessman ready to close a sale.

  “Deal.”

  Chapter Nine – An Ultimatum

  (Manhattan, NYC)

  The bell above the door jangled like a harbinger, both good and ill, as Danny Lupo pushed his way into Galitz Jewelry. Old man Galitz and his wife Arella turned their faces simultaneously to inspect the unexpected arrival. Arella Galitz forced a cordial smile.

  “Welcome to Galitz Jewelry. How may we help you?”

  “Yeah,” Lupo grumbled, “I’m looking for some stones. Diamonds. Really nice ones, too. You seen any recently?”

  Old man Galitz looked back and forth between his wife and the large man before finding something fascinating needing immediate attending to in one of the jewelry cases. Arella shot her husband a look of disdain before returning to the conversation.

  “I see. Well, we might. Were you looking for loose stones or were you seeking something attached to a particular setting?”

  “Oh, I’m looking for something attached to a particular settin’ all right. I’m looking for a big bag of stones set on a wiry little sneak-thief named Tommy DeLanz. While I’d like to get my hands on the settin’, I’m much more interested in the rocks. Word on the street is settin’s like that seem to wind up in here as often as not, before gettin’ separated from their gems.”

  Arella glanced at her husband who was still busily pretending not to hear a word.

  “I see. I am sorry to disappoint you, but we have not seen that particular style of setting in a couple of years. But if one comes in, I can be sure to let you know, Mr…?”

  “Lupo. Danny Lupo. And don’t go yankin’ my chain, lady. You see I work for the owner of those rocks, and the former employer of Tommy DeLanz. Now I was here in town mindin’ my own business, when all of a sudden a couple of local gumshoes show up at my door and start roustin’ me about DeLanz. Well, if they’re so keen on findin’ him, and they think he had somethin’ to do with those rocks pullin’ a disappearin’ act, I figure it must be so. So, I start thinkin’ if I was DeLanz, and I had a bag of hot rocks, where would I take ‘em?”

  Arella smiled. “And someone mentioned our little shop?”

  “You got it, toots. So while my boss got his payday from the insurance and don’t give a ripe tomato about the rocks or DeLanz, I’m thinkin’ maybe I do. DeLanz worked over our trust, so maybe I’m thinkin’ if the boss decides he starts givin’ a flip about gettin’ took, then who’s he gonna wrangle first? Me. I was responsible for DeLanz, so maybe my boss decides I’m on the hook for the rocks.”

  Arella remained cool and Hiram Galitz remained intentionally distracted.

  “I see where that could be a problem. Well, Mr. Lupo, as I said I would love to help you, and if we see Tommy we will be sure to give you a call if you will leave your number.”

  “You’re gonna do more than that. I’m at the Lexington for another few days. You better call up all your rock-hawkin’ buddies. If DeLanz is here like them snoops seem to think, he’s gotta move those rocks someplace. If it ain’t you, then you find out who and where. You got five days. If I ain’t heard from you by Thursday, you can expect another visit, and it won’t be so friendly next time. You get me?”

  Hiram reached under the counter for something, but a look from Arella stopped him cold.

  “Yes, I understand you, Mr. Lupo. Perhaps you might want to understand something as well, though. We have an agreement with all five Italian families in New York, as well as the Jewish and Irish organizations. This shop is neutral ground. If you should start any trouble here, you are going to bring all of them together in one common cause, and you won’t like the result.”

  A grin grew on Lupo’s face as if he had just found the lost treasure of El Dorado.

  “I’m countin’ on it.”

  He spun without another word and walked out of the shop. Hiram sighed with relief.

  “Arella, you shouldn’t antagonize men like that. You know I am not the man I was when we served the Tsar. And having the families avenge our deaths still leaves us dead. That gives me precious little comfort, dear.”

  She strode over and patted Hiram on the shoulder. “Husband, you were never a hero, even while you served in the Tsar’s army. You are such a gentle soul. You have to trust me. These men only understand two things; fear and strength. If we show too much of one, they see less of the other. Trust me, we cannot show them fear or they will believe we have no strength.”

  “I know, but there must be something we can do now, before it is too late. Can we call the families, tell them this man is threatening us, and ask them to do something?”

  “Perhaps. We have five days. Let us carefully consider the wisdom of our next action. Much rides upon it.”

  Chapter Ten – Scene of the Crime

  (District Attorney’s Office, Manhattan, NYC)

  My little trip to the Bowery this morning hadn’t been for nothing. Miss Rosario’s neighbor, cattycorner across the street, was indeed a real Nosy Nell. Mrs. Thelma Bronstein was the Sunday paper of all the comings and goings of everyone on E. 1st Street. According to Thelma, who makes a very nice cup of tea, Gabriella was being straight when she said Tommy ain’t been around in two years.

  Thelma was able to recall in exhaustive detail the night Tommy stormed out. Apparently there wasn’t much good on the radio that night, so everyone was listening to the DeLanz vs. Rosario match, and it went the full fifteen rounds. I guess Gabriella won by TKO when Tommy hit the pavement, and according to Thelma he hasn’t shown his “no-good hide around here since.” If Gabriella did meet up with Tommy, she did it somewhere other than under the watchful eye of Mrs. Bronstein.

  I make my way into Jimmy’s office to share with him what Penny and I found about the maybe-Tommy in Solomon’s funeral picture. As I enter Jimmy’s suite, I see my brother grabbing his hat and coat and heading out in a hurry. Despite it being Saturday, Jimmy told me he would be in the office today running down the insurance angle and closing a few loopholes on some other cases, but from the looks of things, he wasn’t planning on staying.

  “Calling it a day already, Jimmy? I just got here.”

  The frown on his face says he is not in a joking mood.

  “Actually you arrived just on time, Nicky. Some fishermen hooked a body in the upper bay this morning. Coroner says it’s pretty far gone, but could be DeLanz. We also got a call this morning that a warehouse owner in Brooklyn found someone had broken into his place since he was last there. Lieutenant there says it looks like it may be something more than just a simple break in. The timing is too neat for it
to be a coincidence, so I’m on my way now. You might want to tag along.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  (Brooklyn, NYC)

  As we rumble across the Brooklyn Bridge in the back seat of the Ford Model 18, chauffeured by a beat cop in blue, I bring Jimmy up to speed on what I found. He is as iffy about the photo as I am.

  “It could be DeLanz, sure, Nicky, but it could also be J. Edgar Hoover, or half the guys in Little Italy. Nicky, I hope you aren’t hanging your hopes on one grainy photo.”

  “Eh, got to hang them somewhere, and for now this is at least worth a follow up. Penny at the Sun is going to keep combing through her photos to see if anything else comes up. In the meantime, tell me more about this body.”

  “I haven’t seen it yet, but the coroner says it’s been a buffet for the fish and crabs at the bottom of the bay for a few days at least. There are a couple of holes that shouldn’t be there. We will know more once the autopsy is done, but the height, build, and hair color all line up with DeLanz.”

  “Once the coroner has had his look-see, let me know if you think there is enough to identify. I can prepare Marjorie for the possibility, and we can bring her down. We all got pictures, but she and Gabriella Rosario are the only two we know that have seen him enough to know him for sure.”

  “We’ll see. Once a body’s been in the bay for a few days, his own mother might not recognize him.”

  “If it is him, I expect Marjorie is going to take this hard. As much as I hate to be the one to break it to her, I guess that’s the straw I drew this time, like it or not.”

  We pull up to the warehouses along the waterside in Sunset Park. The area is awash with boys in blue, so getting to the right warehouse ain’t a hard trick. We pull in near the biggest pack of blueshirts and step out of the car, heading toward a large, burly blonde officer blocking a warehouse door at the center of all the activity.

  “Sorry pal, move on. This is a police scene.”