Cold Justice

by Rick Polad

  I took a long drink of beer and said, “I don’t understand women.”

  “So much for what I like.” He took a drink. “You’re not going to understand them. I’m having enough trouble understanding you.”

  I slowly swirled my beer. “That Clements is a pain in the ass.”

  “He’s learning, Spencer, and Rosie is a good teacher.”

  “He needs to learn to shut up once in a while.”

  “He will. Is that all that’s bothering you?”

  “She’s broken three dates. And this afternoon she stuck up for him.”

  “Well, he is her partner. That’s what partners do. I’m sure she’ll have a talk with him. She wouldn’t want to embarrass him with you there.”

  I nodded and sipped the beer.

  “So, what did you learn?”

  “Not much. But everything supports Joey being framed.”

  “I understand he’s your client, but isn’t that your preconceived notion? You’re supposed to be impartial, not look for evidence to fit your theory.”

  “Of course. Remember, there’s a part of me that would love to see Joey behind bars. Here’s what I saw. You tell me what it supports or doesn’t.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  “Max was shot in the chest and fell on his back. He was facing the shooter, someone he probably knew who somehow lured him to that warehouse.” I took another drink. “What was Martin wearing when he came into the station to tell you what he saw?”

  “Regular clothes. Winter coat. Why?”

  “Did he look like a street person?”

  “No.”

  “So, he didn’t live there. And if that’s so, and he did see it, what was he doing there? It’s not a place the average person goes to spend time. Gabe said Glunner came to check on friends, but that doesn’t make a lot of sense. If he had lived on the street, he’d know his friends would have moved to a shelter because of the cold. And if he wasn’t there, somebody had told him what to say, right down to the graffiti on the pillar.”

  “Nothing new to me, Spencer. But which is it?”

  “I’m betting on the latter. Someone told him what to say.” I told him about my experiment with Gabe and Rosie.

  The waiter arrived and placed the pizza in the middle of the table. I was hungry.

  “And then there’s Miss X.” I told him about Angie but didn’t mention her name. “Rosie said you interviewed people in the neighborhood.”

  “We’ve interviewed thirty-two homeless people within a ten-block distance of that warehouse. No one knows anything.”

  “Not surprising since they weren’t there. And even if they did know something, they may be having tough times, but they’re afraid—they may not want those times ended. You showed them Max’s picture?”

  “Yeah. Nobody knew him, or nobody is willing to say they did. We’ve pulled in known associates of Max. While most aren’t doing too much grieving, there’s nothing that would point to killing him.”

  “What about Joey’s crew?”

  “We’ve talked to them. So far, nobody knows anything, or if they do they’re clammed. If we, or you, find something that points to one of them, we’ll look harder. We’ve also looked into murders using those two weapons. Lots using nine millimeter weapons, of course. Less using that rifle. But only one person who had used both… a man named Rockton. His latest address was the state prison.”

  That got my attention. “Was? He’s out?”

  “Yeah, he’s out.”

  “Do you have an address?”

  “Yeah. A cemetery somewhere in Kansas. He died in prison two years ago.”

  “Damn.” I put another slice of pizza on my plate. There were only two left. “There could be two shooters.”

  “Could be, but not likely. How many people shoot like that? And the fewer people involved the better for whoever’s behind this.”

  I nodded. “Those homeless people you interviewed.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you show them Glunner’s picture?”

  He took a big bite of pizza, washed it down, and looked at me with squinted eyes. “No. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that if Glunner wasn’t there he was picked by somebody to be the witness. How was he picked? Maybe he has some connection to that building. Would you say his clothes were typical for someone living off of social security?”

  “I’d say he was clothed beyond his means.”

  “So, someone clothed him. Wouldn’t hurt to show his picture around.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  We finished off the pizza and declined dessert, but got refills on the beer.

  “There’s one big hole in your frame scenario, Spencer.”

  “Only one?”

  “Only one big one. Why go to the trouble? If someone has it in for Joey, and I could find a hundred who do, it would be much easier just to shoot him. Why go to all this trouble?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Exactly. I have no idea. But if someone did, they killed two innocent people to do it.”

  “That’d be one cold bastard,” Stosh replied. “And again, if someone was that angry at Joey, just take out Joey. Why the frame? If it is a frame, what’s the motive?”

  “No idea. Maybe it’s not anger. Maybe it’s revenge. Just flat out, cold-hearted revenge.”

  “Revenge for what?”

  I shook my head. “Who knows. Revenge is taking the law into your own hands. I think someone might want revenge if they think they didn’t get justice.”

  “If that’s the case, someone has killed two innocent people. Again, why not just shoot Joey?”

  “Maybe dying is too easy. Joey was a basket case in jail. That’s worse than killing him.”

  “If that’s true, someone is risking the death penalty for two murders,” Stosh said.

  “If that’s true, that someone may not care.”

  “So we’re back to someone wronged by Joey.”

  “Yeah. And since you’re taking care of the rest of the world, I’ll keep working on the crew.”

  “How’s that going? Anything new?”

  I ordered coffee for me and another beer for Stosh. I was driving.

  “A few things, but I have no idea if they’re related.”

  “Most of the job is sifting through the chaff. What do ya got?”

  “Mike DaVita is having some sort of dalliance with a woman a few blocks away from the mansion. He walked there Sunday night and handed an envelope to a woman, much younger than he, who answered the door. He stayed a little over an hour.”

  Stosh shrugged. “Gotta get old living in a house with men. Can’t blame him for getting some attention. You’re thinking he’s paying for it?”

  “Looks like he’s paying for something. But I’ve had a man on the house, and no one else has shown up. If it’s a brothel, it’s not doing a very good business with just one customer.”

  “You want me to look into it?”

  The coffee came and I took a sip—too hot.

  “Not at the moment. If there’s something that falls in your direction I’ll let you know. I ran the ownership and hit a dead end. It’s in a trust. Marty has raised two red flags. He met with Jimmy for lunch on Sunday.”

  He picked up his glass and asked, “What’s red about lunch?”

  “Jimmy told me he had nothing to do with any of the people at the parlor aside from manning the counter.”

  “That’s what makes this job so much fun... everybody lies, and we have to figure out which lies matter. What’s the second thing?”

  I told him about the firing range and the tournaments with Loretta.

  “So, more to your stalker than you thought. Maybe she’s a split personality… Loretta the marksman and Jamie the soda lover.”

  “And Loretta the phantom.”

  “Pardon?”

  I told him about the lack of history.

  “There’s just nothing straightforward about this case, is th
ere? Where did you get your information? I’ll run her.”

  I laughed. “I’m not saying. Thanks for the offer, but don’t bother.”

  He shook his head. “I won’t ask who in my department is spending taxpayer money on you.”

  “Good, but we’re all after the same thing. And Danny is no longer Joey’s driver.”

  “It’s like a soap opera over there. He quit?”

  “I may have gotten him fired.” I told him about my chat with Marty.

  “So he fired Danny for fraternizing with a known criminal? I imagine the irony of that was lost on him.”

  The waiter refilled my coffee and asked again if we wanted dessert. He may have forgotten he had asked, but more likely it was a hint that we had been there long enough—there were people waiting for tables.

  As I sipped the cooling coffee I asked, “How much do you know about Joey?”

  “He’s been doing this a long time. What do you want to know?”

  “He has the reputation of not carrying a gun. He has no permit. There must have been a time he carried a gun. What’s the history?”

  The waiter stopped again and said, “If you gentlemen are finished, I’ll bring the check.”

  I can take a hint. “That’d be fine, thanks.” He had it in his hand and laid it on the table. Stosh had paid at Carsons so it was my turn to buy. The other paid the tip, which always worked out nicely for the wait staff. If you thought about it, it made no sense in the long run, but we figured if we were getting a free meal, we could leave a large tip. Stosh left even more than he would have to cover the use of the table.

  As I was peeling off bills he asked if I had time for some cards.

  “Sure. I’ll play through a beer. And we have more to talk about.”

  ***

  I set up the card table and got out the cards and scorecard while Stosh got a couple of bottles of Schlitz. We played a penny a point. He owed me $3.84. As he dealt, he asked what else was on my mind.

  “Back to Joey. What do you know about his job history?”

  “He’s been around as long as I’ve been on the job. That’d be twenty-six years. He was a two-bit hood, the Max Schloff of his day but with higher hopes. He took over the gambling, mainly the horses, about ten years ago. Since he became a big shot we’ve gone after him more times than I can remember, but no convictions.”

  I filled a straight and discarded an ace. “How about a gun? Would you run the permit history?”

  “Sure. What are you looking for?”

  His discard gave me my third king, and I laid down my cards.

  “Crap. Needed one more card.”

  As I shuffled, I said, “No idea. But information is good, and somewhere here pieces have to start going together.”

  “One can hope.”

  I didn’t have to arrange my cards—there was nothing that fit. “You know, there’s always the chance that Joey is playing us. No reason he couldn’t be the shooter.”

  “No reason at all,” he said with a big smile. When he picked his first card his smile got bigger. “Gin!”

  I pretended to be upset, but I liked him to win once in a while. “I’m meeting with him tomorrow. I’ll lean on him a little.”

  I thought while he dealt. “I haven’t seen anything new in the papers. They’re still sitting on the location?”

  “Yeah, hard to believe that hasn’t gotten out, but the public still thinks it happened in an alley.”

  “Good. Maybe I can use that.”

  “Maybe you can.” He fanned his cards.

  “Do you have any books on mob murders?” I asked. Two shelves of Stosh’s bookcase were filled with books on Chicago crime and one picture of Francine. I always wondered why there were no other pictures of his family, but I never asked, and he never talked about anyone else. Evidently, he didn’t have any kids.

  He picked a book off the shelf. “Murder in the Big City – Unsolved Mob Hits. I just finished this. Some new information and some new angles on some old ones.”

  “Thanks. Mob murders tend to have a lot of things in common. Maybe I can find a thread that makes some sense. Why did they order hits?”

  Stosh laughed. “Just about any reason you can think of, or no reason at all. Somebody saw someone someplace that made somebody wonder. Easier to kill him rather than spend time looking into the someone and the someplace. You looking for anything in particular?”

  “Well, back to the revenge angle. If that’s the case, no one is going to go to this extreme over something trivial like a gambling debt. It has to be something big, like murder, and it has to to be personal.”

  Stosh handed me the book and looked at me with squinted eyes. “Is this about your folks?”

  “You got that guy.”

  “But you were after him before we got him. Is there a difference between our getting him and your getting him?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He died, but not by your hand. Did that settle it, or were you still angry?”

  I hadn’t thought about it and didn’t answer.

  “If that theory is correct,” Stosh continued, “maybe it’s not an unsolved case. Maybe it was solved, but whoever did it is back on the street.”

  “Thanks for making it even muddier. But that would let Joey out. He’s never been convicted.”

  We finished the hand and the beer.

  On my way home I got a call from Chester. Mike had taken another walk to Belden. He didn’t hand off an envelope, and he was still inside. Chester wanted to know if I wanted to join the party. I declined. Then he asked if I wanted him to have a chat with Mike. I thought not. I’d have to at some point, but I wanted to get an angle on what was going on before having a chat with Mike. Chester had been watching the house since our lunch meeting, and no one else had visited.

  ***

  I got home by ten and glanced at the telescope as I walked onto the porch. It was a perfect night for viewing, clear and cold… little heat in the atmosphere made for better viewing. But little heat in the atmosphere meant little heat on the ground, and I’d had enough cold for one day. And I still wasn’t ready for the memories. The last time had been with Dad looking at the Andromeda Galazy.

  I left Stosh’s book on the kitchen table and went to sleep hoping to dream the solution to the case, because so far dreams were my best bet.

  Chapter 17

  Carol was already in the office when I got there. She was telling me about Billy’s science project at school when the phone rang. It was Ralph.

  “Morning, Spencer.”

  “Morning, Ralph. Got anything?”

  “Not much. I’ve talked to three of the five neighbors in her building. None of them like her. Two of them called her names I’d rather not repeat. And they all feel sorry for the dog. She puts it on a leash in the yard and leaves. One of the neighbors brought it into his own apartment during the cold just before Christmas and caught hell for doing it. He tried to reason with her but got nowhere. He called the SPCA and was told they’d follow up. As far as he knows they never did. Could be that’s how the dog got loose last week… outside and slipped his collar.”

  “Lovely. What a piece of garbage.” While he was talking, my brain was working. “Do you have a name for the man who took the dog in?” I knew he did.

  “Cyrus Jennings.”

  “Phone?”

  He read it off and I jotted it down. “Okay, good job, Ralph. You’re done. Get your time to Carol. Still at the pool hall?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay. But keep the phone. There’s something else I may need you for, and if I do it’ll be short notice.”

  “Sure thing.” He didn’t ask what I had in mind, and I didn’t say. It’s best no one knows about some of the things I do… for my sake and theirs.

  ***

  Rosie was working the middle shift so was probably still at home. I called to see if she wanted to have a late dinner. She agreed and said we needed to talk. She suggested McGoon’s. I suggest
ed anywhere else.

  When we hung up I called in Carol and asked her to get me an appointment with Maggio, for the afternoon if possible. I had a question.

  A little before ten I was getting up to get my coat and head for the parlor when the phone rang again.

  “It’s Kate, Spencer. Says she has information for you.”

  “Thanks, Carol.” I sat back down and punched the lit button. “Hi, Kate. Staying warm?”

  “Just fine, Spencer. The lieutenant asked me to call concerning Mr. Mineo.”

  “Great. Watcha got?”

  “He had a gun permit that he let lapse in 1978 when it was up for renewal. Hasn’t had one since.”

  “Interesting. Thanks, Kate.”

  “I hope that helps.”

  “Not at the moment, but it’s another piece to put on the table.”

  “Okay. You be careful, Spencer.”

  “Always, Kate. Thanks.”

  I added that bit of information to my notebook, and since I hadn’t dreamt the solution, went back to work. I wanted to meet with Joey before the noon lunch meeting. Fifteen minutes later the phone rang again. Carol told me Stosh was holding.

  “Morning, Lieutenant. Thanks for the permit info. Are you calling to arrange time payments for the gin money you owe me?”

  “I wish I was. A matter has come up.”

  I tried to think what his serious tone would lead to and had a few guesses. I wasn’t even close.

  “Internal Affairs is conducting a hearing. I’m pretty sure you’re on the list.”

  “IA? What do they want with me?”

  “Your input.”

  “On what?”

  “They’re investigating Rosie.”

  “Rosie! What the hell for?”

  “For the death of Steele. Why wasn’t she there when her partner killed himself?”

  “Are you kidding me!” They probably heard me across the street. Carol came in looking concerned. I gave her a wave meant to say okay, but she stayed in the doorway. “Stosh, she saved my life.”

  “Yes, but they’re not concerned about your life. They’re concerned about the guy with the badge who ended up dead.”

  “But she didn’t kill him. He would have killed himself no matter what she did.”

  “You don’t have to convince me, kid. I’m on your side.”