Ashes Of America

by Fergus McNeill

  ‘You don't say.’ Frank shook his head. ‘We don’t get many shootings down in our part of the world.’

  The officer’s face became grim.

  ‘Sadly, it ain't so unusual up here.’ He stood aside and beckoned them past. ‘You folks have a good night now.’

  ‘Thanks, you too.’

  Frank took Faye’s hand and led her past the police cars towards the hotel entrance.

  There were several more uniforms in the lobby. Over by reception, one of them looked up, then turned around to the elderly man behind the desk. Frank saw him mouthing the words Is he a guest? and the old man peering across and nodding slightly.

  The cop straightened up and started walking towards them. He was older than the officer who’d waved them through, with a calm expression and patient blue eyes.

  ‘Excuse me, sir?’ He moved to position himself in front of them, blocking their way to the staircase. ‘Can you tell me which floor you’re going to?’

  Frank hesitated, then reached into his pocket and drew out the key.

  ‘Fourth floor, room four-one-three.’ He gave the cop a questioning look. ‘Why? What’s the matter?’

  The cop glanced at Faye, who shrank back a little, then turned to Frank.

  ‘There’s nothing to be concerned about,’ he said. ‘You can go up to your room, but I'll need you to stay away from the second floor. It's closed off while we conduct an investigation.’

  Frank nodded, then assumed a grave expression and lowered his voice.

  ‘One of the people outside said there was a shooting?’

  But the cop remained impassive, too clever to be drawn.

  ‘Everything's in hand,’ he said. ‘Just please, keep to your own floor.’

  ‘Of course.’ Frank turned to Faye. ‘Let's go up.’

  They started across the lobby once again, Faye’s heels clicking quickly on the hard floor. They’d almost reached the staircase when a voice called out sharply behind them.

  ‘Hey!’

  Frank turned around.

  It was Adam, marching over to them with a grim expression, his fists clenching and unclenching.

  ‘Wondered when you’d show up,’ he snapped.

  Frank took a half-step back from him.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

  Adam moved closer.

  ‘I thought maybe you could tell me,’ he said. His eyes were glittering, the way they used to when he was about to take down some lowlife. It was unnerving to be on the wrong end of that gaze.

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Frank demanded.

  Adam took a breath, as though trying to restrain himself.

  ‘I got a guy, here, shot dead in his room,’ he said. ‘Now tell me, where have you been this evening?’

  ‘We were at a grill on Central Street. The Cook Out.’ Frank stared at his old colleague. ‘You can check if you want.’

  Adam smiled, but there was nothing pleasant about it.

  ‘Oh, you bet I will.’

  ‘Why? What’s this got to do with me?’

  ‘I’ll tell you why,’ Adam hissed, leaning forward and grabbing the sleeve of Frank’s jacket. ‘You mention an address to me, and the same day the place gets burned down. You tell me you’re staying at a hotel, and a guy gets shot there. I don’t know what you’re mixed up in but I want to know what the hell you’re doing here.’

  Frank snatched his jacket free and glared at his old colleague.

  ‘Quit screwing around, Adam,’ he growled. ‘You know where I was for the fire. And we really were at The Cook Out tonight.’

  Adam scowled at him for a moment, then seemed to notice Faye for the first time.

  ‘What about you?’ he asked her. ‘You were with him tonight?’

  Faye blinked up at him, then nodded.

  ‘And they’ll remember you when I ask at the restaurant?’

  Faye nodded again.

  Adam stared down at her, then narrowed his eyes.

  ‘Faye Griffith, right?’

  The sound of her name appeared to startle her.

  ‘Y-yes?’ she stammered.

  Adam’s expression became thoughtful.

  ‘What’s the story here?’ he asked. ‘You know that Frank’s been looking for you?’

  Standing at her side, Frank stiffened.

  What would she say? If she cracked now, it was all over.

  Faye glanced up at him, then looked back to Adam.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘He found me.’

  Frank exhaled.

  Adam nodded slowly, suspicion still evident on his face.

  ‘Uh-huh… Anything you might want to tell me? Anything I should know?’

  He was fishing now, sensing there was something below the surface, even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was. But he sounded so damned convincing… she was going to think he already knew, she was going to talk.

  Blinking again, Faye hesitated, then slowly shook her head.

  Adam studied her for a moment longer, then sighed and turned back to Frank.

  ‘So you really don't know anything about this?’ he demanded. ‘Some guy gets machine-gunned in his hotel room, right after you tell me you're staying here, and it's just... coincidence?’

  Frank met his gaze and held it.

  No coincidences... only warnings.

  He straightened, allowing a note of irritability into his voice now.

  ‘Like I told you, we weren't here, so no; I really don't know anything about it.’ He paused, frowning. ‘Who the hell uses a machine gun anyway? You think it was... I don't know... rival gangsters or something?’

  Adam hesitated, then something in his eyes changed, and for a moment it was almost like they were fellow cops again, discussing a case.

  ‘Doesn’t seem very likely,’ he said. ‘Victim was seventy years old; some retired college professor, name of Edward Linden.’

  Edward Linden.

  The name hit him like a bucket of ice water. Frank stared straight ahead, fighting to keep the shock off his face, trying to remember all the places he’d used that name while searching for Faye.

  …well, if you do remember anything, contact me at the Bradbury Hotel. The name's Edward Linden…

  He looked at Adam, but his old colleague had lifted a hand and was waving to someone on the far side of the lobby.

  He hadn’t noticed.

  ‘Anyway, I’m still gonna want to speak to you,’ Adam said. ‘Don’t leave town, either of you.’

  Frank took a breath, then made a point of straightening his jacket.

  ‘You know where to find me,’ he said.

  Adam sighed wearily.

  ‘Yeah, I do.’

  He turned and walked away. Without a word, Frank touched Faye’s arm and nodded towards the stairs. They climbed in silence, their footsteps in sync, as they made their way upwards. As the staircase angled back on itself and they approached the second floor, Frank saw another uniformed officer standing at the end of the corridor that led to the rooms. The cop watched them carefully as they continued past, climbing on towards the fourth.

  Entering the room, Frank threw his hat onto the chair, then walked over to stand by the window. Peering down into the street, he watched the people milling around beyond the police cars, eager strangers all trying to get closer.

  It was like being in a siege.

  Behind him, Faye pushed the door closed.

  ‘So?’ she asked quietly.

  Frank turned to look at her.

  ‘So what?’

  She took a couple of steps towards him, then halted, arching an eyebrow.

  ‘Who’s this Edward Linden?’

  Damn. Frank tried his best to look puzzled.

  ‘How should I know?’ he replied, speaking carefully now. ‘You were there with me, you heard what Adam said.’

  ‘Yeah, and I was watching you when he mentioned the name. You know something.’

  Frank gave her a long look then shook his head wearily.
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br />   ‘It’s nothing,’ he told her. ‘Forget about it.’

  Faye was silent for a moment, then she glanced towards the door.

  ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘Either you level with me, or I go downstairs and take my chances with that detective. He… he seemed like a straight-up guy.’

  Frank bowed his head, then sighed. Adam was a straight-up guy. He wouldn’t have got himself into a mess like this, wouldn’t have got some old college professor killed.

  ‘I didn’t think this would happen…’ he said softly, then trailed off.

  ‘What do you mean?’ Faye pressed him.

  Frank took a deep breath.

  ‘When I was asking around, about you and Ellis… well, I didn’t want to leave my own name, so I gave out a different one.’ He shut his eyes. ‘One I lifted from the hotel register.’

  ‘But…’ There was a long pause, as Faye put it together. ‘But why would you do that? Why not just use a false name?’

  ‘So they could get in touch if they had any information.’ Frank opened his eyes slowly, staring down at the floor. ‘So they could find me.’

  Faye sat down heavily on the bed.

  ‘Ellis,’ she said softly.

  Frank paused, then nodded.

  ‘The bastard must have heard that someone was asking questions… decided to come over here and deal with it.’

  He extended an index finger, them mimed pulling a trigger.

  Faye sat motionless, staring at nothing.

  ‘He’s not gonna stop, is he?’

  Frank looked at her, then turned away and moved back to the window.

  ‘Do you know anything else about him?’ he asked. ‘Where he lives? Where he works? Anything at all?’

  ‘Sorry, no.’ She sounded distant now, drained.

  Frank clenched his fist as he stared out at the illuminated windows in the building opposite.

  ‘There must be something,’ he muttered.

  Behind him, Faye sighed.

  ‘I told you before; they got in touch with my friend and she asked me to call them. I don’t even know who they are, only that they’re the kind of people you don’t say “no” to. Ellis… well, he just showed up the next day. I’d never seen him before, and I haven’t seen him since.’

  Frank turned around.

  ‘You still have that number?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The number you were asked to call. Do you still have it?’

  Faye stared at him blankly, then picked up her purse and snapped it open. She rummaged through the contents for a moment, then stopped, drawing out a folded paper napkin with a number scrawled on it.

  Frank stepped over to her and took the napkin, turning it over in his hand. She gazed up at him.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Frank hesitated.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he admitted. ‘Call the number, I guess.’

  Faye gave him a doubtful look.

  ‘What good will that do?’ she asked.

  Irritated, Frank turned away, staring down at the scrawl on the napkin.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said, after a moment. He couldn’t call in any more favors from Adam, not right now. ‘Maybe we can figure out where he is. And if we can do that, maybe I can get to him before he gets to us.’

  He glanced over, but Faye was staring at the floor, her expression bleak.

  ‘I’ve got to do something,’ he told her. ‘And anything’s better than just waiting for him to hunt us down.’

  Turning his back on her, he walked over to the telephone and picked it up, wondering what the hell he was going to say.

  Figure out if Ellis was there… try and arrange a meeting, perhaps?

  Frowning, he stood for a moment, then carefully dialed the number. It rang three times, then there was a click and a man with a gruff voice answered.

  ‘Sugarhouse Haulage Company.’

  Frank tightened his grip on the receiver and leaned close to the mouthpiece.

  ‘Let me speak to Ellis,’ he demanded.

  ‘He ain’t here,’ the gruff voice replied. ‘Who’s this?’

  Frank hesitated. Ellis wasn’t there, but they knew him all right. This might be just the opening he needed.

  ‘Listen to me,’ he snapped. ‘You tell Ellis I’ve got information about his friend Rye and the girl. He’ll understand. Tell him I’ll call again tomorrow afternoon. You got that?’

  There was a pause, then the voice returned, sounding less sure now.

  ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’

  ‘Ellis will,’ Frank growled. ‘You tell him I’ll call tomorrow afternoon.’

  ‘But–’

  Frank quickly replaced the receiver, then stood staring at the phone for a moment. His heart was racing.

  This was it. At long last, he had a chance to be one step ahead of Ellis, to call the shots rather than play a blind defense. Excited, he turned to look at Faye, but she just gazed up at him unhappily.

  ‘Come on,’ he told her. ‘This is good. How about a little optimism?’

  Faye leaned back, studying him.

  ‘Why?’ she said. ‘How do you think you’re gonna fix this?’

  Frank gave her a grim smile.

  ‘By killing Ellis, that’s how.’

  But Faye just shook her head.

  ‘And then what?’ she asked.

  Frank hesitated.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Faye got slowly to her feet and walked over to the window.

  ‘Whoever sent Ellis,’ she said, turning back to look at him. ‘Won’t they just send someone else?’

  34

  It was a small warehouse on Campbell Street, tucked away in a quiet corner of the North End neighborhood. Frank had got the address from the phone book. Now they were sitting in the Oldsmobile, parked at the far end of the block, watching the front of the building.

  Faye shifted in her seat.

  ‘You think he’s in there?’ she asked.

  ‘Hard to say,’ Frank mused. ‘His car isn’t here. Assuming the one I saw before was his car.’

  They’d driven right around the block, and there was no sign of the grey Chrysler. A tan Ford and a blue Studebaker were parked outside the warehouse. Beyond them was a large truck with the Sugarhouse Haulage name painted down the side.

  ‘Have you figured out what you’re gonna say?’ Faye asked.

  ‘I don’t know exactly,’ Frank replied. ‘I want him riled up though. Maybe he’ll get mad and say something useful.’

  ‘Not much of a plan.’

  ‘Right now we don’t have much of anything.’ Frank drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. ‘We need to know why he sent you after me, whether he’s working for someone. Until then, we’re just groping around in the dark.’

  Faye ran her fingers along the chrome door lining.

  ‘He has to be working for someone else. Don’t you think so?’

  ‘Most likely,’ he agreed. ‘But I’ll be a lot happier once I know for sure. And I want to know who.’

  They lapsed into silence for a while. Further down the street, a group of children ran laughing out of an apartment block, then disappeared round the corner.

  Frank yawned and checked his watch.

  Faye leaned across to see the dashboard clock.

  ‘Shouldn’t he be here by now?’ she frowned.

  Frank’s eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror then back to the street.

  ‘He’s leaving it late,’ he admitted.

  ‘You think he’ll come?’ There was an anxious note in her voice.

  ‘He’ll come,’ Frank said, doing his best to sound confident. Ellis had to come. If he didn’t, they were screwed.

  ‘What if he doesn’t tell you anything?’ she asked. ‘Anything useful, I mean.’

  ‘Well, then…’ Frank broke off, trying to figure out what the hell they could do. ‘I guess we follow him, find out where he goes, where he lives.’

&nb
sp; Faye considered this.

  ‘You’re not going to grab him right here?’

  Frank shook his head.

  ‘Not here, no.’ He pointed a finger towards the warehouse then gripped the wheel again. ‘This place smells like a Mob operation, so he’ll probably have friends inside. I want him on his own.’

  Preferably someplace quiet, private. It could take a while to sweat the truth out of Ellis, and he might not want to rush things…

  A green Plymouth sedan appeared at the far corner of the block and turned onto the street. Frank leaned forward as it crept towards them, but it continued on past. He watched it disappearing in the rear-view mirror, then relaxed back into his seat.

  ‘Mind if I ask you something?’ Faye said.

  Frank sighed. More questions.

  ‘Sure,’ he replied without enthusiasm.

  Faye twisted around in her seat to face him.

  ‘You’re a cop…’ she began.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘So, why are you doing this by yourself?’

  Frank stared straight ahead.

  ‘This isn’t just some… everyday crime; this is personal.’ He thought of Beth, the way she’d greeted him when he came to the house that last time, that slender hand reaching up to touch her hair...

  The last time he’d seen her smile.

  ‘I made a promise.’

  Faye paused, tilting her head slightly.

  ‘To who?’ she asked.

  Frank sat motionless and said nothing.

  Faye watched him for a moment, then shrugged and settled back into the corner of her seat.

  ‘Okay, but what about the police? You don’t trust them?’ she asked. ‘Your detective friend from the hotel?’

  Frank glanced at her, then looked away.

  His time in Switzerland had taught him not to trust anyone.

  ‘Friends let you down,’ he said, quietly.

  The grey Chrysler turned onto the street a little after two-thirty. Resting his head against the window, Frank blinked and sat up. He watched as the car slowed, then swept over to park across the street from the warehouse. Faye leaned forward, squinting through the windshield, as a thin figure in a suit got out.

  ‘That’s Ellis!’ she said.

  Frank nodded grimly.

  ‘I know.’

  They watched as he strode quickly across the road to the warehouse and disappeared inside.