Border City Blues 3-Book Bundle

by Michael Januska

  “Going somewhere?”

  Shorty turned. He hadn’t seen the man when he was surveying the room. He had the height and general dimensions of McCloskey. In fact, in the dim light and the shadows, he thought it might be his former boss and for a fleeting moment felt a sense of relief.

  “I’ve got a table reserved for us.”

  He led Shorty over to a two-seater in a dark corner. “You look like you could use a drink.”

  When they passed the bar, the man gave the bartender a signal that apparently meant bring us a couple ryes.

  Shorty studied the man’s face in the candlelight. He had bright, squinty eyes, thin lips, and sharp cheekbones. With his fair hair and ruddy cheeks, Shorty thought he could have been a sailor at one time.

  A waitress set the tumblers down and returned to the bar.

  “Have you done this sort of thing before?” asked Shorty.

  “Maybe once or twice,” said the man, and they each took a sip from their tumblers. Shorty’s sip was a little larger than the smuggler’s.

  “How long will it take to cross?”

  “Not long,” said the man, looking up at the wall clock that hung above the door. “We should go.”

  They finished their drinks. Shorty reached for his grip and then followed the man through the kitchen. He could feel everyone’s eyes on him. They went out the back door and found the path that led through the tall grass to the shore.

  It was a small, open vessel with a disproportionately-sized outboard motor. At full speed it probably skipped along the water like a flat stone.

  Shorty touched the man’s shoulder. “Tell me, please, am I going to make it? I mean, why make the trip if you don’t have to?”

  “I got my orders.”

  The man manoeuvred the vessel so that Shorty could climb in without incident. Shorty threw his grip in first, grabbed the edge of the boat with one hand, and balanced himself with the other until he found a place to put his foot. He sat down.

  “Is this okay here?”

  “Just fine.” The man wiggled the vessel over the narrow band of sand and rocks until he was up to his knees in river and the outboard blades were submerged. He climbed in without even rocking the boat.

  “Where exactly are we going?” asked Shorty. “Can you at least tell me that?”

  “You see that bright light up there on the left?”

  “Yeah,” said Shorty.

  “You see that amber light up there on the right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That dark stretch in between.”

  The man got the engine going. It purred at first, but once they got a little further out, it roared.

  In the middle of the Detroit River, Shorty looked up and for the first time in his life noticed how different the stars looked out on the water. They looked brighter.

  — Chapter 45 —

  TONG

  CELESTIAL HAS 19 DECKS OF OPIUM HIDDEN

  Mounted Police Officer Makes Arrest; Yip Wing Remanded When Arraigned on Charge in Police Court

  Noticing a Chinaman acting in a suspicious manner on Sandwich Street East last night, Sergeant Birtwhistle, RCMP detachment, placed him under arrest. He gave his name as Yip Wing, 19 Sandwich Street East, and when searched, 19 decks of opium were found in his possession.

  The accused carried the opium in a little tin box, and federal police believe that he was peddling the drug to his fellow countrymen. Wing declined to make a statement as to how he came by the drug, and a search of his rooms failed to reveal the presence of a pipe or apparatus of the opium smoker.

  When arraigned in police court today, Wing did not plead, and on the request of his lawyer, W.H. Furlong, he was remanded for three days. Bail was fixed at $300.

  “The arrest of Wing is one of a series of arrests made by the Mounted Police on Chinese in this district, and is in accord with a countrywide drive by the Mounted Police officers against the drug traffic in Canada. Several Chinese, possessing narcotics, have been arrested since the first of the year on the border, and the police are making every effort to stamp out the traffic.

  Mounted Police departments all along the border between Canada and the United States have been working with American federal officers to check the traffic, and a large number of convictions on both sides of the line has been the result.

  Hong had called the meeting. He said it had to take place somewhere outside of the downtown, and at a place none of them normally frequented. McCloskey suggested a service station, Overidge’s, on Giles a few blocks east of the Avenue. He knew he could trust the mechanic because his boys had made Overidge a link in Border Cities Wrecking and Salvage’s supply chain. The only information McCloskey gave Overidge was that he needed to have a private conversation with a couple of friends, and that they would be arriving separately at ten-minute intervals.

  McCloskey got there first and pretended to be checking out Overidge’s modest used car selection while keeping an eye out for Campbell. The detective was right on time. He parked his Essex in one of the spots on the other side of the gas pumps — the doctor’s waiting room. He didn’t approach McCloskey. He followed McCloskey’s suit and started kicking some tires. He drifted closer towards McCloskey and without looking right at him said, just loud enough for him to hear, “You have any idea what this is about?”

  “No idea.”

  They made like they were having a conversation about the price of gas.

  “You talked to him,” said Campbell. “What was his tone like?”

  “Same as always. Hong doesn’t give up much. That’s one of the things I like about him.”

  Actually, thought McCloskey, he sounded a little nervous.

  “I’m guessing it’s something serious.”

  “Yeah, I have a feeling it is.”

  McCloskey was keeping one eye on the street now. Then he saw Hong’s car slow down in front of the station, probably making sure he had the right place. McCloskey’s first impulse was to wave him over to where he and Campbell had parked, but he smothered it and instead hoped he would just figure it out. He did.

  Hong got out of his car, walked right past McCloskey and Campbell without making eye contact, and went inside to the service desk, where Overidge was seated.

  “Okay … he’s talking to Overidge … probably giving him some instructions … Overidge just gave him a big nod … he’s leading Hong back out, so keep talking.”

  “I’m done,” said Campbell. “What’s going on?”

  “Start over … and make some gestures … with your hands … more enthusiasm.”

  “With my hands? More enthusiasm? Have you considered stage direction as a sideline?”

  “You might laugh but … hold on … Overidge is pointing out a car to Hong, probably explaining its features … Overidge is going back inside … he’s sitting at his desk now. Stay put, Campbell … I’m telling you about gear ratios now.”

  “What ratios?” Campbell asked.

  Hong slowly wove his way in and around the cars, examining each closely until he got to the one next to which the other two were standing.

  “Excuse me,” he said.

  “Oh, pardon me,” said Campbell.

  As Hong moved around them, McCloskey said, “We’re going inside; wait a minute and then join us.”

  The detective and the bootlegger stepped into the reception area where Overidge gestured them toward the only available service bay.

  The smell and the grease everywhere reminded McCloskey of his salvage operation’s garage. The main difference being this was where cars got a new lease on life and not where they were sent to the afterlife. They didn’t say anything; there would be no words until Hong arrived. He finally entered and Overidge closed the door behind him.

  “Gentlemen,” said Hong.

  While he remained poised and appeared calm, Hong seemed to be having trouble getting it out.

  “Gentlemen, have you ever heard of Tong?”

  Campbell and McCloskey looked at each
other, and then at Hong.

  “You men, you people have your societies, orders, lodges, and … gangs. So do we. In order to survive, thrive, be safe, we had to organize. At first it was all very simple. But then, like everything else, it became complicated. Needs changed, attitudes changed. Some elements believed not enough was being done. Some of them needed financial help, so they looked for ways to make money. They looked for opportunities, and they found them. Communities grew and some prospered under their control. This of course led to certain … disquietude in the larger community. These elements became greedy and began to extend their reach. And then the violence. I thought we were safe from all of that here, in the Border Cities, but I was naive. Jack, I know your business. Every day you and your people, without really knowing it or understanding it, open the door a little wider. Tong are here, and they have left their mark.”

  “The three arms,” said Campbell.

  “You knew,” said McCloskey.

  “Yes, I knew,” said Hong. “I knew but I didn’t want to know. ‘Three Arms’ is the name of this particular group.”

  “What about the victims?” asked Campbell. “Could they still be alive?”

  “Likely not. And you will not find their bodies. The only way you would find them would be if the Tong wanted you to find them.”

  “So what happens now?” asked McCloskey.

  “We go about our business,” said Hong.

  “I don’t know if I like that,” said McCloskey. “How is that even possible now?”

  “My advice to you, Jack, is to make sure you limit your interests to whisky. And my advice to you, detective, is to broaden your interests — sorry, Jack.”

  “Okay,” said Campbell, “you seem to already know quite a bit about Tong, and this group in particular. Is there anything else you should be sharing with me about them?”

  “As in did this Tong murder Quan?” added McCloskey.

  “No,” said Hong, “not Tong. Someone in Morrison’s world.”

  “But —”

  “Good day, gentlemen.”

  “McCloskey …”

  The bootlegger and the detective paused their conversation as they found a quiet corner among the headstones in Windsor Grove.

  “What is it, Campbell?”

  “The three arms, they form a triangle.”

  “So?”

  “A triangle that can’t be broken.”

  “I understand those arms are not too connected anymore.”

  “No, no … they’re alive.”

  McCloskey glanced up and down the rows of marble.

  “The arms?”

  “No — the three men, each with one arm. They won’t be broken. It just occurred to me. I have a feeling.”

  “I have a feeling you’re not finished,” said McCloskey, “and neither is this … Tong.”

  “What do I do now?”

  “Wait for something to happen.”

  “You know, McCloskey, I’m the one that is supposed to prevent that next thing from happening.”

  McCloskey knelt and started wiping the engraving on one of the headstones. The names and dates and sentiments had become shallow, almost illegible over time.

  Campbell continued. “I have very little to go on.”

  McCloskey straightened up. “You … we could come up with a way to smoke them out. Did you take their fingerprints, from the arms I mean?”

  “I did.”

  — Chapter 46 —

  WILT THOU TAKE THIS WOMAN?

  Saturday, September 1

  Much to Vera Maude’s surprise, all of her siblings showed up and then some, including Aunt Gertie — Uncle Fred’s sister — and Gertie’s daughters, Hazel and Lillian. There must have been a baker’s dozen of Maguires, all in their finest. The scene was making her head spin.

  Too much Maguire, she thought.

  The matron of honour was Mrs. Cattanach’s best friend, Flossie. Her real name was Florence but Mrs. Cattanach had known her as Flossie since pinafores were de riguer. Like Mrs. Cattanach, Flossie also did work for the church and was a widow, and she couldn’t be happier for her friend.

  The best man was A.B. “Abe” Drum. He and Uncle Fred had met at Windsor Gas Company, in the accounting department, and retired the same year.

  McCloskey was there at the insistence of Uncle Fred, as was Glenn Furlough, Uncle Fred’s barber.

  Vera Maude finally stopped twitching when the pianist started with the Lohengrin wedding march. She looked over at Lew, who was mouthing the words, and then she caught McCloskey stifling a yawn and pinched his arm.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  “And there’s more where that came from,” she said.

  “These vows are sacred, in flesh as well as spirit. They speak of love, respect, and trust. It is a bond. You make a public declaration of your love, uttering these vows to each other in front of friends and family, and before God. The vows come first, perhaps simply, but you are made and determined by your deeds. Make your bond a statement to faith and faithfulness.”

  When McCloskey was finished checking on her and Lew, Vera Maude noticed him scoping alternate exits and entrances. It was becoming a force of habit.

  “Frederick Stuart Maguire, wilt thou have this woman to be thy wife, and wilt thou pledge thy faith to her, in all love and honour, in all duty and service, in all faith and tenderness, to live with her, and cherish her, according to the ordinance of God, in the holy bond of marriage?”

  Vera Maude straightened her dress and accidently brushed her hand against McCloskey’s. She looked up at him but his mind was elsewhere.

  “I will,” said Uncle Fred.

  “Julia Faith Cattanach, wilt thou have this man to be thy husband, and wilt thou pledge thy faith to him, in all love and honour, in all duty and service, in all faith and tenderness, to live with him, and cherish him, according to the ordinance of God, in the holy bond of marriage?”

  “I will,” said Mrs. Cattanach.

  There was gentle applause and some quiet sobs. Vera Maude noticed she was squeezing McCloskey’s hand. He faked a makes me no nevermind attitude, keeping his eyes fixed on the bride and groom.

  “Oh dear, the rains have started,” said the custodian, in his louder-than-usual voice.

  Aunt Julia, formerly Mrs. Cattanach, looked at her husband.

  “Well we’ll just move inside,” said Uncle Fred.

  “We can’t,” said the custodian.

  “What do you mean we can’t?”

  “We thought we’d fixed the roof in the hall, but it’s taken to leaking again. We have buckets on the floor and we’ve had to turn the hydro off.”

  Vera Maude heard McCloskey mutter, “They can’t have this.”

  “Is all the food ready, and everything else?” he asked, louder.

  “Of course,” said the custodian.

  “I have a place we can go.”

  Vera Maude looked up at him. “Jack, you can’t be serious. Uncle Fred and Aunt Julia, the wedding party … and Reverend Paulin at Shady’s? Will Pearl’s Follies be waiting tables?”

  “You got a better idea? We have no time, the food is ready and everyone wants to sit down, relax, and toast the newlyweds. I’ll take care of moving everything over. I’ll call for Betsy —”

  “Oh, and now who’s Betsy?”

  “She’s the truck we use at the wreck yard.”

  “Jack!”

  The wedding party and the guests were looking a little lost. Aunt Julia was looking like she might burst into tears at any moment.

  “Maudie, please, for Fred and Julia.” He turned to the custodian. “Take me to a phone. Maudie, hang back and try and keep everyone calm.” He smoothly took Lew aside. “Lew, I need you to —”

  “Say no more, Mr. McCloskey.”

  The custodian led McCloskey to his office, which was more like a broom closet.

  “Who’s this? Linc? … I need Betsy here at St. Andrew’s right this minute. Is she in the yard? … No, tell him it
’s going to have to wait … Yeah, it’s raining, I know … where? … Hang on, for grease sake.” He turned to the custodian. “What’s your name?”

  “Reddick.”

  “Reddick, where can we pull up a truck closest to an entrance?”

  “They can pull up close to the rear doors if they come in off Victoria.”

  “Did you get that, Linc? Enter the church grounds off Victoria. I’ll have someone flag you down. And bring an extra umbrella if you have one.” McCloskey hung up the phone. “Reddick, you’re going to go out there and make sure Linc pulls up at the right place, then I want you to come back and help with the food. Got it?”

  “How will I know the vehicle?”

  “It’s really ugly and marked ‘Border Cities Wrecking and Salvage.’”

  “Right — big ugly truck.”

  “Can’t miss it. Hey — mind if I make another call?”

  “It’s all yours, mister.”

  McCloskey got the operator’s attention again and she connected him with the club. “Claude? Jack … Yeah, fine … Listen, the house is empty right? … Keep it that way; I have a party coming in … Around forty … It’s a wedding party … No, no, no … Well, we might have to reheat some things so make sure the kitchen is fired up … I’ll need people under cover from the rain, escorted to the door, you know … Great … Okay … See you in about fifteen minutes.”

  McCloskey headed back into the church. He went right to Maudie, who was standing with the newlyweds. Fred was comforting his bride.

  “I’ve got a vehicle on the way right now that can transport all the food and everything else to my club. Everything’s going to be fine; we’re going to have a good time.”

  Linc arrived minutes later with Betsy. Vera Maude’s brothers helped load the food into the back of the truck. Linc made sure the canvas was strung and taught across the stakes in the flatbed.

  Vera Maude’s siblings from the county had arrived by motorcar. Austin and his wife were commissioned to drive the bridegroom and the best man to the church, and Dorothy and her husband were commissioned with doing the same for the bride and the matron of honour. They followed the same route to the club.