Cold Justice

by Rick Polad

  “Spencer, it’s Lieutenant Powolski.”

  I picked up the phone. “Hey, Stosh. The dog lady is on her way to the station. It worked. A Mrs. Schenk is her contact inside city hall.”

  “Good. One thing to cross off the list. I’ve got information on your relatives. The—”

  “Hold that thought. I’m on my way out. I’ll swing by the station. You be there in twenty minutes?”

  “Yup. But don’t make it much more than that.”

  Traffic was light, and the sun was still out. The temperature was up in the twenties. The sun had gone back to work.

  ***

  Stosh was sitting at Kate`’s desk looking at a file.

  “It’d take three of you to do her job,” I said.

  “That’s the truth. Maybe four.” He closed the folder, walked into his office, and closed the door. “You talk to Rosie?”

  “Sure. She told me all about her birthday party tonight for my buddy Gabe. Noisemakers, pointy hats. You probably weren’t invited because she knows you don’t look good in pointy hats.”

  He got comfortable in his chair, sighed, and said, “I met Francine when I was twenty. She was nineteen. We were married three months later.” He was staring at her picture at the front of his desk. “We were married for thirty-seven wonderful years. It wasn’t all perfect, but you have more drama in one day than we had in thirty-seven years.”

  I was sitting on one of the wooden chairs and was not comfortable. “What are you saying?”

  He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I’m saying God bless Francine.”

  He broke the silence by opening the folder on his desk. “Giancana’s wife is still in New York as are all of his daughters. His brother is still in Chicago and still a car salesman. None of them have any ties that we know of.”

  “So nothing.”

  “Not there. But Glunner doesn’t have a sister.”

  “Figured he didn’t. So somebody set him up in that apartment. Somebody who used him… and then killed him.”

  “You’re jumping to some conclusions.”

  “It’s not a big jump.”

  “And one more thing. We have an informant who has been talking about Marty. Seems he is quietly setting himself up to take over.”

  I started to interrupt and he raised his hand.

  “Even more than you had learned. At least two alliances are in place and ready to go as soon as Joey is out of the way.”

  “I’ll have another talk with him.”

  He shook his head. “No, you won’t. There are some things we’re working on that depend on him not knowing that we know.”

  “Nice business they’re in. You can’t—”

  We were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  “Hi, Spencer,” said Kate. “Meeting in five minutes, Lieutenant.”

  He nodded. “Thanks, Kate. Where to from here, Spencer?”

  “Gonna stop and see a mystery lady and then dinner at McGoon’s.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Stalker?”

  “Not up to me.”

  “Sure it is.” He walked out, leaving me sitting there looking at the back of Francine’s picture. I could use less drama, but I needed a good meal.

  Chapter 24

  I had to park at the other end of the block from the mystery lady’s house. But since the sun was back on the job it was a nice walk. Comparatively, twenties seemed like a spring thaw.

  I rang the doorbell but didn’t hear a bell, so I knocked, twice. It took a minute before I heard footsteps, and a woman’s voice asked who it was.

  “Spencer Manning. I’m a private detective, and I have a few questions.”

  Silence. No one wanted a visit from the cops, even the private kind. Everybody had something to hide.

  “Ma’am?”

  “Yes, I’m here. What about?”

  “This would be better if we were both on the same side of the door.”

  She opened the door to the limit of a chain. “Can I see ID?”

  I handed it to her.

  She handed it back and asked again what it was about.

  “Mike.”

  “Is he okay?” she asked with worry in her voice.

  “He’s fine.” I was still looking at the chain.

  “Then what…?”

  “He takes walks. Those walks bring him here. I’d like to know why.”

  “You need to ask him,” she said as she started to close the door.

  I got my foot in and said, “I can do that, but not without his boss around, and I’m guessing he wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  More silence. “If you remove your shoe, I’ll let you in.”

  I did, and she did, but not happily.

  She didn’t look much older than me, not much more than thirty. Casual clothes that weren’t fancy and brown hair pulled back into a ponytail gave her the look of any woman in any other house on the block. If she was running a house of ill repute this was her day off. She led me into a living room with the standard furniture and a fireplace. Several pictures of a little girl were on the mantel. I sat on the slightly worn green couch, and she pulled an armchair close to my end. She didn’t offer coffee.

  She sat on the edge of the chair, folded her arms across her chest, and asked what I wanted.

  “Simple. Mike leaves his house and comes here. You let him in. Why?”

  She unfolded her arms and sat back looking a bit relieved. She evidently had an easy answer.

  “He’s just visiting. We met at the grocer and discovered we lived near each other and stayed in touch. That’s all.”

  “Ah, well that’s pretty simple.”

  “Yes, it is.” She smiled.

  “What was in the envelope he handed you?”

  Her smile disappeared, and she looked around the room. But there was no one there to help her.

  When she had thought about it enough, she said, “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “Maybe not. But I’m looking into two murders, and if there’s a connection you could be an accessory.”

  She sat up straight. “Murder! I have nothing to do with murder! Who was murdered?”

  “I’m sure you read about the murder of Max Schloff and poor Mr. Glunner.”

  She clasped her hands in her lap. “And what does that have to do with me?”

  “Maybe nothing. But it might have something to do with Mike. I’m sure you also know his boss was arrested for the first murder.”

  She looked like she was trying hard to come up with a good story.

  “Mike had nothing to do with that.”

  “Maybe not. But we’d like to know if Joey had anything to do with it.”

  “Well, obviously, he did… he was arrested wasn’t he?”

  “Plenty of innocent people get arrested.”

  She thought some more. “But Mike wasn’t arrested… his boss was. And you’re asking about Mike.”

  “We’re asking about everyone associated with Mr. Mineo. Mike led us to your door.”

  “So you were following him?”

  The question didn’t need an answer, so I just let her sit with the thought.

  “Would you tell me your name?”

  She looked down at her hands and after a pause said, “Karen… Karen Bedore.”

  “Okay, Karen.” I moved to the edge of the cushion and leaned toward her. “What was in the envelope?”

  She looked up and met my eyes. “That’s not really my place to say. You need to talk to Mike.”

  I shook my head. “We’re going around in circles, and we’re back to asking him with his boss there.” I paused. “And I’m not sure it’s any of his boss’s business.”

  She didn’t respond.

  I gave her some relief. “And if it has nothing to do with the murders I forget about it as soon as I walk out the door.”

  Looking back down at her hands, she sighed and said, “Money.”

  Of course. Everything’s ab
out money.

  “But it has nothing to do with any murders.”

  I felt sorry for her and wanted to take her hand. I leaned a little closer. “Then what does it have to do with?”

  She got up and walked to the fireplace and stood looking at it for half a minute. She reached out, took down one of the pictures of the little girl, and brought it back to the chair where she looked at it for a bit and then handed it to me. The smiling little girl looked to be around ten and was holding a doll.

  Karen looked at me without saying anything.

  I handed it back to her and asked, “She has something to do with Mike and the envelope?”

  Obviously she did, but instead of answering she set the picture on the table and offered coffee. I accepted. While she was gone I looked around the room and wondered what kind of story Karen would come up with. I hoped the kid wasn’t mixed up in this somehow. And despite what Joey did for a living, I knew he would hope so also.

  Karen came back with a plastic tray, two cups, and sugar and cream. I declined the sugar and cream, took a cup, and waited.

  She stirred in cream, set the spoon on the tray, and took a sip. Taking a deep breath, she touched the picture and talked.

  “The little girl is Rachel. Her mother was Mike’s sister’s daughter.”

  “Was?”

  Moving her eyes from the picture to me, she said, “A year ago Rachel’s parents and Mike’s sister and her husband were killed in a car accident in Michigan. Rachel was the only survivor.”

  “I’m sorry, Karen. How awful.”

  With tears in her eyes, she said, “When I think of that little girl losing her whole family, I…”

  “I know.” I decided to be quiet and see if she would continue.

  She wiped her eyes with a napkin. “Would you like more coffee?”

  “No, thanks. So, Rachel is Mike’s niece?”

  She nodded. “Once removed.”

  I had pretty much guessed at what was going on when I heard about the little girl, and now I could fill in the gaps, but I needed to have her tell it. “So, Mike took her in?”

  She nodded. “He bought this house and hired me to be with her. He pays me every week.”

  “But why so secretive?” I thought I knew the answer to that also.

  With a shrug, she said, “He doesn’t want Rachel to know what he does.”

  “But he comes to see her.”

  “Yes, not only to bring money. She loves him… really looks forward to his visits. And once in a while he’ll take her out for something special.”

  I thought Joey would support what Mike was doing. Joey was what he was, but one of those things was a person who had a soft spot for kids. But I could understand Mike not wanting Rachel to know. Maybe it was better that way.

  Karen looked up at me. “Do you have to tell about this?”

  “No. It has nothing to do with what I was hired for.”

  She finished her coffee. “What were you hired for?”

  “To find whoever killed Max Schloff.”

  “And that’s not Joey?”

  “Well, Joey doesn’t think so.”

  We both laughed.

  “Do you think so?” she asked.

  “I don’t.”

  “Well, good luck, Mr. Manning.” She gave me a puzzled look. “Manning. Riverview?”

  I smiled. “That would be me.”

  “That was an amazing story. I wish I had realized that earlier. I would’ve trusted you sooner.”

  “Well, that’s okay. We got there.”

  I gave her my card and told her to call if there was ever anything I could do for her or Rachel.

  Chapter 25

  I got to McGoon’s around five. Mondays were never very crowded. Only three people were at the bar, and none of them were Jamie.

  Jack was pulling a Guinness before I got my coat off.

  “Hey, Spencer. How do you like the summer weather?”

  “Much better.” I took a stool and a long drink through the foam. “Hey, Jack. Do you remember that woman I was sitting with last week?”

  “You mean Jamie?”

  The woman five stools away cackled at something she thought was funny.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Hard to forget. I wasn’t here yesterday, but she’s been here every other night since.”

  “She has?”

  “Yup. Seemed to be waiting for someone, but that someone never showed.”

  “Barkeep. Another round, if you please,” the man with the cackler said with a slur.

  “Coming right up. I’ll be back, Spencer.”

  I nursed my beer until he returned. “What did you learn about her? Did she say who she was waiting for?”

  “No, she didn’t. The only thing I know is she likes white wine.”

  “A man of your conversational skill and that’s all you know?”

  “Yup. Odd. She said a lot, but nothing of any value. A lot of fluff with no substance.”

  Or very careful, I thought.

  Jack grabbed a towel and wiped down the bar. “But that might change if the right guy shows up,” he said with a smile.

  In the next half hour the bar filled except for two seats to my left. The cackling lady was drowned out in the din of conversation. I was about to ask for a refill when, with a wink, Jack caught my eye and nodded toward the entrance to the bar. I didn’t have to look to know what he meant, so I just nursed the last inch of beer wondering if indeed I was the right guy. I was.

  She sat next to me and asked if the seat was taken.

  “It looks like it is,” I said with a hint of a smile.

  She hung her coat on the back of the stool. “Fancy meeting you here. Spencer, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I came in for dinner. If you haven’t eaten, would you join me?”

  I looked at my watch. “I guess I have time. Do you want to eat here or get a table?”

  “Let’s get a table. It’ll be more private.”

  I put a five on the bar and stood. I requested a table with Jane, and we were seated right away. Jane asked about drinks and was back in two minutes with white wine and a Guinness. I told her to give us a few minutes.

  Jamie opened the menu and looked up at me.

  “I feel a bit nervous, Spencer.”

  I let that sit.

  She continued. “I have a confession.”

  I expected her to tell me she had been coming in every night, but she surprised me.

  “I know some things about you.”

  I took a drink and let that lie too.

  Looking right at me, she said, “For instance, I know you’re a private detective.”

  Of course I already knew she knew. When I didn’t react she looked confused.

  “Don’t you want to know how I know that?”

  “I might if I didn’t already know.”

  “You do?”

  “You just told me I’m a private detective. I detect things.”

  “Oh… right.” She sipped her wine. “I also know you’re working for Mr. Mineo.”

  “You’d be pretty slow if you didn’t, Jamie… or is it Loretta?”

  That flustered her. “Pardon?”

  I smiled. “I know some things too. Like that the tag on your mailbox says Loretta, yet you introduced yourself as Jamie.”

  She put down the glass and laughed. “Well, I can explain that, and then I want to know how you know that. I’ve never liked Loretta. Jamie is my middle name. Nobody ever calls me Loretta. Now how do you know about my mailbox?”

  “I’m a detective. I—”

  “Yes, I know. You detect things. I’m flattered that you wanted to know more about me. I’d ask how you know where I live, but I’m not as slow as you think. I know you saw me in the ice cream parlor. Even someone who wasn’t a detective would see where I went if he waited and watched.”

  Jane stopped at our table, and we both ordered steaks.

  She gave me her pretty smile
and asked, “Were you hoping I would be here tonight?”

  I gave her my best shocked look and said, “I hadn’t thought about it. I come here a lot.”

  Her smile turned coy, and she asked, “Not even a little?”

  I smiled back. “Well, maybe a little.”

  The smile was back. “Good.”

  We talked about many things for an hour and a half. Jack was right… she was good at fluff. But I wasn’t trying to prod. When Jane brought the bill I asked a personal question.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you do for a living? I mean, besides eat ice cream.”

  She gave me a fluffy answer about one thing and another and having trouble holding down a steady job. She explained she wasn’t cut out for eight to five. No, she was cut out for whatever Joey told her.

  I paid the bill and asked if she had driven.

  “No. I took a cab.”

  “Well, can I give you a ride home?”

  “I would appreciate that, Spencer. I guess I don’t have to give you the address.”

  We both laughed.

  I pulled into Joey’s private spot next to the hydrant and thanked her for a nice evening.

  “Thank you for dinner. Would you like to come up for a nightcap?”

  I looked at my watch again.

  “Come on now, Spencer. It can’t be past your bedtime yet.”

  “Well, I suppose so. Just for one. Do you have any pointy hats?”

  “Pardon?”

  I shook my head. “Never mind. Just being silly. You get the lights on, and I’ll find a legal spot.” When she had gone in I pulled into Mr. Chin’s lot, stopped in the restaurant, and gave him ten bucks for the parking fee. He wouldn’t take the money, so I left it on one of the tables.

  ***

  The door was open, and I let myself in. It was a one-room apartment with an adjoining bedroom and a kitchen built into the back wall. She had poured wine and offered me a beer choice of Miller or Budweiser. I silently cringed, mentally flipped a coin, and went with the Miller.

  While she opened the fridge I sat on the couch and looked around the room. Other than a few wall hangings and photographs on shelves, it was pretty stark. It didn’t much look lived in. I felt a little sorry for her. One of the wall hangings drew my attention. It was a crocheted likeness of Uncle Sam. Lots of red, white, and blue. Not that I had anything against patriotism, but I didn’t know anyone else who had Uncle Sam on their wall.