Cold Justice

by Rick Polad

  “Right.”

  “About a month ago we met at a city dinner function. He was very attentive and at the end of the event suggested dinner the next night. I turned him down, making some excuse. He kept trying. The last time he asked I was pretty blunt, and he got huffy… said something about being better than him. The guy makes my skin crawl.”

  Shifting in his chair, Stosh asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

  “It wasn’t a big deal. I’m a big girl and thought I had it handled.”

  Stosh shook his head. “I hate this crap. I’ll take care of it. What a waste of time.” He started to get up.

  “Hang on, Lieutenant,” said Rosie. “Are you sure you want them to know what my assignment was?”

  He sat back down. “The truth will set you free, Rosie.”

  “Okay, I appreciate that, but either way we lose. My assignment was to follow Spencer because he does things outside of the rules, and he’d lead us to trouble. That admits we condoned Spencer breaking the rules by doing something we couldn’t.”

  “Not couldn’t, Rosie. Shouldn’t. We follow the law.”

  “And Spencer doesn’t, and we let him.”

  I chimed in. “Two bad guys were taken care of, and we rescued numerous kids, and—”

  Stosh held up his hand. “Nobody is denying that.” He turned to Rosie. “I don’t think you’ll have to go, but if you do just tell the truth. If there’s fallout I’ll deal with it. I’m hungry. Anybody interested?”

  We both declined. I was anxious to get home.

  “Okay. Good luck Monday, Rosie. We still on for cards tomorrow, Spencer?”

  “Sure. See you at noon.”

  “I got fresh pastrami from the butcher.”

  “I’ll skip breakfast.”

  “You do that.”

  I also wished Rosie luck on Monday if she had to go.

  “I won’t see you before then?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I’m not the one whose dance card is full.”

  She just looked at me as I turned and walked out. I stopped in the hall and went back. “I would like to see you, Rosie. Call if you find time.”

  She nodded. “I’m working the weekend. I have Monday off.”

  That meant she didn’t have much time, at least for me, but it was a good weekend to stay in. The predicted high through Sunday was minus fifteen. The jetstream was supposed to shift back north by Sunday night.

  I fell asleep reading about the 1929 St. Valentine’s Day Massacre. Most people send candy on Valentine’s Day, but not Al Capone. The Irish gangster, George ‘Bugs’ Moran, Capone’s main rival on the north side, had called a meeting at his garage headquarters, and Capone had found out about it. It was time to settle an old score.

  A little after ten thirty in the morning, two uniformed policemen entered the garage, told Moran’s gang it was a raid, and lined them up against a wall. They then opened up with Tommy Guns, leaving seven bullet-riddled bodies lying on the concrete. Capone wanted to send a message, and bullets were cheap. Ironically, Bugs was late to the meeting and arrived to find his gang dead on the floor. With most of his gang wiped out, the gang wars were over, and Capone became the boss of the Chicago underworld.

  The cops knew who did it, but knowing and proving are two different things, and I have to wonder how much effort they put into it. Seven gangsters were dead. No one was ever arrested, and Capone got away with it. But the massacre had an effect Capone hadn’t seen coming. The public was outraged about the Chicago mob wars and demanded action. Elliott Ness was sent to Chicago. He attacked Capone from every angle, and two years later Capone was convicted of tax evasion and sent to Alcatraz.

  Chapter 21

  I took care of a few chores Saturday morning and headed for Chez Stosh at half past eleven. The bright midday sun had no effect on the temperature. The thermometer on the porch read minus sixteen.

  Stosh had the cards out on the table. We made sandwiches and ate on trays in the living room watching Northwestern and Michigan play basketball. Everybody looked forward to playing Northwestern. We watched with the sound down and talked about the case.

  “Good pastrami, Stosh.”

  He took a swig of beer and said, “Nothing beats a good butcher. You have your people out working in the cold?”

  “Nope. I gave them the weekend off. I think we’ve learned all we’re going to learn from the tails anyway.”

  “And what would that be?”

  “Well, everyone has something suspicious going on, and almost everybody has a motive.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “The driver… Danny Primo. He’s been hanging around with Jack Eigen.” We both took a minute to eat and wash it down with Schlitz. “I had a chat with him. While he could choose better company, it seems to have nothing to do with Joey. They have some scheme to buy a horse. I hope it works because he lost his job when Joey found out about the horse.”

  “And you think Primo’s going to tell the truth to an investigator, especially one working for Mineo?”

  “He didn’t know who I was. We were just two guys having breakfast at a diner.”

  He finished his sandwich. “You wanna split another sandwich?”

  “Split? You on a diet?”

  “I’m watching my figure.”

  “That’s not hard. There’s a lot to watch.” I got a look that wasn’t too friendly. “Sure. Hate to see good pastrami go to waste.”

  Stosh headed for the kitchen, and I turned up the sound on the TV. Northwestern was actually winning by four halfway through the first half. I wasn’t going to get excited. He was back in a few minutes, and I continued.

  “DaVita has been out taking late night walks to a house a couple blocks away.” I told him about the lady and the envelope.

  “You think she’s running a house?”

  “Seems unlikely. My people haven’t seen anyone else there, but maybe Mike has some special deal. And maybe it’s something else.” I took a few bites. “The most interesting is Marty, who is the most obvious to benefit should Joey be inconvenienced by a jail term. He pretty much runs things now… I’d think he’d want the prestige that goes along with that.”

  “You’d think. But Marty isn’t stupid. I can see him taking advantage of misfortune, not causing it.”

  “Agreed.” We ate and watched the game. By the time we were done with our sandwiches Michigan was ahead. I muted the TV.

  “Then there’s Jimmy Smith, the soda jerk who told me he knew nothing about what goes on in the back room. But he’s been out at night talking to the competition.”

  “Lining up a stable?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Joey never has been interested in expanding. He’s content with letting everybody do business as long as they don’t get greedy.”

  “Right. But Marty isn’t so understanding. I think he’s been after Joey to expand. He sees dollars. And if Joey is out of the way…”

  Stosh stretched out the recliner that also served as his bed ever since Francine had died.

  “Which leads me to believe he knows something we don’t,” I said. “And if that’s so, maybe he’s the one who set it up.”

  “Maybe. But I don’t see him getting involved with murder to do it.”

  “I don’t either, but who knows?”

  “So you’ve got nothing.”

  “Pretty much. You making any progress?” I asked.

  “We’re doing better on the second shooting than the first. Not that we even have a hint of someone to look at, but there is more evidence, and we’re working on it.”

  “I’m halfway through your book. If these were mob hits, you can add them to the list of unsolved murders.”

  “Yeah, they tend not to make mistakes.”

  “Well, the book quotes Giancana as saying that seven out of ten of their hits were on the wrong guy.”

  Stosh grunted. “Yeah, I misspoke. They make a lot of mistakes… we just have trouble catching them
at it.”

  “And even more trouble with a dead witness.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, that sure doesn’t help, but we have a signed statement. The DA isn’t giving up.” He looked at me with squinted eyes. “Tell me.”

  I looked back. “Tell you what?”

  “You’ve been scratching at this for more than a week. There must be something keeping you awake at night.”

  I watched the clock on the wall behind Stosh. It was exactly thirty seconds before I replied. “Permits.”

  “I figured you’d be working on that.”

  “You know I’m not fond of coincidences. Loretta gets a permit in 1977 as soon as she is twenty-one. Joey lets his lapse in ’78. Why?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I did. He wasn’t too happy about it.”

  “What a surprise.”

  I stared at the wall.

  “What?” he asked.

  “There had to be some reason, which leads me to wonder what happened back then. And there’s one elephant in the room.”

  “Sure there is. Sam Giancana. Gunned down in ’75. But I don’t see the connection.”

  “Joey was Sam’s driver, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So they spent a lot of time together. You could assume they were buddies to some extent.”

  He shrugged. “Or not. But if you make that assumption, the last thing you’d expect Joey to do would be to give up his gun. If my buddy is killed I’m looking for the guy who did it.”

  “I assume they talked to Joey,” I said.

  “Sure. Oak Park asked a lot of questions.”

  “And he had no ideas about who did it?”

  “Of course not. The mob solves its own problems.”

  “Yeah. And maybe they just did. Maybe it took ten years for Joey to figure out that it was Schloff who killed his pal. Revenge has no expiration date.”

  “And maybe the Cubs’ll win the pennant this year.”

  “It would make sense,” I said. “The guy puts on a big show of not having a gun just waiting for the one day when he takes the shot. Speaking of revenge, Sam have any kids?”

  “Three. All girls. And girls don’t hold onto grudges, or set up hits.”

  “Really? I could name—”

  He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Most girls.”

  “How about brothers?”

  “One.”

  “Was he in the business?”

  “No. Car salesman.”

  I thought for a minute. “Do you know what happened to them all, and his wife?”

  “His wife moved back east. I don’t know about the rest.”

  “Would you find out? I’d like to know where they are.”

  “Sure, I’ll add it to the list. You want me to see who he played with on the playground in first grade?”

  “No thanks. Just relatives.”

  Stosh took in a bushel of air and let it out slowly. “You keep scratchin’, kid. Let’s play some cards.”

  While he was shuffling, I said, “But I am making progress with the dog lady.”

  He looked up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “The husky that showed up at Carol’s door. You remember—the lady with the bogus working dog permit?”

  “Oh yeah.” He dealt. “What kind of progress?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “I don’t want to know most of the things you do. Next time don’t bring it up.”

  As he spread his cards, he asked, “You seen your stalker lately?”

  “Nope. But I haven’t been looking. McGoon’s seems to be her pub of choice, and I’ve either been too busy or it’s been too cold to go out for dinner.”

  He dealt. I had two pair.

  “But you’ll go back to McGoon’s one of these days?”

  “Of course. One of my favorite places.” I discarded a queen.

  He picked it up. “And that would have nothing to do with the lady?”

  I didn’t answer. He discarded one of my pair. I picked it up and he swore.

  “And what about Rosie?” he asked.

  “What about Rosie?”

  “You still playing the jealous lover?”

  I discarded a king that he picked up with a big grin. “Gin! Add up those points.”

  I had the three fives and filled a straight. He got six points and swore again.

  “So?” he asked.

  I shuffled. “I’m not jealous. I’m just upset and disappointed. I’ve lost count of the dates she’s broken because of this Gabriel guy.”

  “There is that work thing, Spencer. It’s not like you work regular hours either.”

  “But I’m not hanging around with Gabriel.”

  He sighed. “I hope not. How many times you gonna shuffle those cards?”

  I straightened the deck and dealt. “I told her to call me if she has time this weekend.”

  “Well if that doesn’t have her falling all over you, nothing will.”

  “Did I ask you?”

  “You never do. Gin.” His smile widened. “If you only have six points again I quit.” He didn’t have to quit.

  At the end of the afternoon I had lost and so had Northwestern. And there were no messages on my answering machine. I heated some mushroom soup and spent the evening with the book.

  ***

  My phone rang at ten minutes after nine. It was Cyrus Jennings. The dog had been tied up out in the cold for fifteen minutes. I gave him instructions and called Carol.

  “Evening, my right-hand woman whom I can’t work without.”

  She responded by saying she wanted a raise. I told her I had to talk with the board of directors. I also told her I wanted to make sure she would be in the office at nine Monday morning. She would. Then I told her there might be a red bandanna next to the door and not to pick it up. One of the reasons she was my right-hand woman was that she didn’t ask questions. I wouldn’t have answered even if she did—it was much better that she didn’t know, for several reasons.

  My next call was to the pool hall. It took six minutes for Ralph to come to the phone. He had been in the middle of a run.

  ***

  I thought about going to McGoon’s Sunday but decided to stay home. I was hoping to hear from Rosie. I didn’t. I finished the book while I was eating dinner, a bowl of tomato soup and a ham sandwich. About eight I decided to swallow my pride and call her. She apologized for not calling. Something about helping her sister, and the weekend had just gotten away from her. She thanked me for calling and said she’d make it up to me. She also told me she had received a call from Stosh—the hearing was over.

  When I suggested dinner Monday to celebrate, she hemmed and hawed and finally admitted she was going to dinner with Gabe. It was his birthday, and he had no friends or family, and she felt sorry for him. She was sorry. So was I.

  I hung up and decided I hadn’t been to McGoon’s in a while. I was thinking about a good meal. If Loretta happened to be there it was just fate, and I had no control over fate.

  Chapter 22

  I got to the office Monday morning by eight. I didn’t have anything to do, but I was anxious and full of adrenaline. Everything depended on my instinct about people, in this case the dog lady. I could usually count on people to behave consistently. I went to the front picture window and waved at Ralph, parked across the street. As soon as traffic cleared he pulled away. I sat at Carol’s desk so I could watch the front door.

  Carol arrived at ten to nine, glanced down at the cement, and unlocked the front door.

  “Good morning, Spencer. How do you like sitting in the boss’s chair?”

  “Too stressful. I’m going back to my office.”

  “You have a nice nap. I’ll let you know if anything important happens.”

  I smiled as I stood. “Oh, I think I’ll know.”

  “Any instructions?”

  “Only one.” She hung up her coat, and I held the chair out for her. “Make sure nob
ody except the right person picks up that bandanna.”

  “Is the right person who I think it is?”

  “Entirely possible.”

  “I don’t need to know anything about this?”

  “Nope. Better if you don’t. Just react normally to whatever happens. You need to know nothing, and since you do know nothing, that’ll be easy. Just a normal day at the office.”

  “Got it.” She sat and started in at the typewriter.

  I heard the steady rhythm of the keys until eight after nine when the door opened, and I heard the bell. If I was right, the next voice would be angry. I was right.

  “What the hell did you do with my dog?”

  “Excuse me?” Carol answered.

  I got up with a smile and wiped it off before I left my office.

  “Don’t give me excuse me! You know damned well what I’m talking about.”

  I joined the party. “Excuse me too. You are?”

  Carol held out a hand toward the lady with the angry eyes. “Mr. Manning, this is Miss Knox. It was her dog Billy found last week out in the cold.”

  “Ah, yes. Poor dog. I hear he doesn’t like being dragged across the floor.”

  “You people have a lot of nerve. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.” She was gesturing at me with her left fist. The other hand was in the pocket of her coat. I kept an eye on the pocket.

  The energy coming from her was intense, and I was enjoying every second of it. And I did know who I was dealing with—that was exactly the point. My whole plan depended on knowing not only who I was dealing with but how she’d behave. And so far she was right on target.

  “I’ll give you one more chance. What have you done with my dog?”

  I sat on the edge of Carol’s desk, between the dog lady and Carol just in case she decided to use the fist.

  “Miss Knox, if you can find a dog in here you are more than welcome to him.”

  “Really? Maybe he’s not here, but you know where he is.”

  “And what makes you think that?”

  She pulled her hand out of the pocket and held out the red bandanna with just a violent stare.

  “I’m sorry, is that meaningful?”

  “You know damned well it is. This is my dog’s bandanna, and I found it by your front door. How do you explain that?”