The dark city en-1

by Max Allan Collins

  Several more minutes passed. Ness seldom felt nervous; tonight he did. He chewed his left thumbnail. He tugged at the brim of his hat. It was cold down here, by the river, colder than anywhere else in the city. And darker.

  Another screech of a streetcar split the night, but when it faded, Ness could hear the sound of footsteps on the cinder pathway.

  The man was young, almost a boy, baby-faced, pale, in a brown topcoat and brown hat. Both his hands were in his pockets. Ness kept his right hand in his.

  The stranger withdrew one hand from his overcoat pocket; the hand was empty. He used it to remove his hat. His hair was dark brown and slicked back. He seemed nervous. His breath was smoking, as if his insides were on fire.

  "Thanks for meeting me here, Mr. Ness."

  "You're Curry?"

  "Yes, sir, I am."

  "When I found the note under my windshield wiper," Ness said, keeping his hand and gun in his pocket, "I didn't know whether to believe it."

  Curry shook his head side to side, lifted his shoulders, put them down. "I didn't know what else to do. I knew I shouldn't call you. You never know who's listening."

  "You're right on that score."

  "I didn't think I should come to your office. I didn't know what to do. So I left that note on your car."

  "We've never met. How do I know you're Curry?"

  "You have a gun in your hand, don't you, sir? In that coat pocket, I mean."

  "If you're not Curry, you'll find out soon enough."

  Curry-if he was Curry-swallowed, and smiled nervously. "Let me just open my coat."

  He held it open, like a pervert in the park showing a woman his prize possession. But Curry's prize possession was a police officer's uniform.

  "You can close your coat," Ness said. "That uniform doesn't necessarily make you a cop, and, even if it did, a lot of cops in Cleveland would like to see me dead."

  "Can I get out my wallet and show you my i.d.?"

  "Slowly."

  He reached into his topcoat pocket and withdrew a wallet, flipping it open and handing it to Ness. His police i.d. card and photo were there. This was Curry, all right.

  "You're the man Captain Cooper selected to go undercover," Ness said.

  Curry sighed, and smiled, in relief. "I was afraid maybe the captain hadn't given you my name."

  "He did. I insisted that he do so. You were a detective?"

  He nodded. "Youngest one on the force. I was working traffic-I pulled some people out of a burning car and got promoted."

  "You didn't buy your promotion."

  "No, sir. My family doesn't have that kind of money."

  "And you allowed yourself to be put back down to uniform for this undercover assignment."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Which was?"

  "Well, you know that, sir."

  "The question is, do you?"

  Curry nodded in understanding. His teeth were chattering, possibly from the cold, possibly not. "Captain Cooper sent me to the Fourteenth Precinct. He said that it, and the Fifteenth, were thought to be trouble spots."

  Ness nodded. "Gambling and prostitution running wide open. Right."

  "Right. I was supposed to keep an eye out for things like that. Also, I was supposed to keep an eye out for any other officers taking, well, graft."

  "Anything else?"

  He shrugged. "The captain said you suspected a network of crooked cops working together. If I had the chance to get in on that, I should do it."

  "Infiltrate, you mean."

  "Exactly."

  "And?"

  He sighed heavily and scuffed the cinders with his right shoe. "That's the problem. It's the cleanest precinct I ever saw. I haven't seen anybody so much as accept an apple from a fruit peddler."

  "You've seen nothing at all suspicious?"

  "I didn't say that, I said I haven't seen any graft. But there's this bookie joint called the Black Swan Club."

  Ness grunted.

  "You've heard of it?" Curry said.

  "Yes. From Councilman Vehovic. You've heard of him?"

  Curry smiled. "The nut with the bicycle and the boater?"

  "That's him. Tell me about the Black Swan Club."

  The kid seemed more at ease now; he glanced toward the sea of cabs through the Crosshatch of fence in the shadow of the bridge. "Well, we've had a couple calls to raid it. And we have raided it. It's on Ivanhoe Road, behind this little beer parlor. Anyway, there's never been any evidence of gambling. Just some guys sitting around drinking beer. But I stopped in off duty once, and it was hoppin'. I got out of there quick, though."

  "Why?"

  "I saw somebody I knew."

  "Who?"

  "You're not going to believe me."

  "Try me."

  Curry sighed. "I saw the captain."

  "Of the Fourteenth Precinct, you mean?"

  "No."

  Streetcar screech; sparks in the night.

  "Cooper," the young cop said. "Captain Cooper."

  It should have felt like a body blow, but as the boy had been talking, the inevitable had slowly dawned on Ness.

  "No surprise, really," Ness said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

  "Sir?"

  "No one but Cooper and myself knew what your assignment was. Only Cooper or I could have spread the word at the Fourteenth to keep the lid on, where you were concerned."

  "They only let me see what they wanted me to see."

  "Oh, yes."

  "That's why I came to you. I obviously couldn't go to Captain Cooper. And I think the precinct captain's in on it, too."

  "Why?"

  "He's been too nice to me. Real fatherly. Really going out of his way to make sure I was 'fitting in.' "

  "So?"

  "When did you ever hear of a precinct captain behaving like that?"

  "Never," Ness admitted.

  "I had to come to you."

  "I'm glad you did."

  "I'm afraid, Mr. Ness. If Captain Cooper knew I was talking to you-if he's followed me or anything-I could be in big trouble."

  "You could be dead. A lot's at stake, here."

  "What should I do?"

  "Stay on the job. Let me give you a number no one has."

  Ness took a notebook out of his inside coat pocket and scribbled the boathouse number.

  "Use a pay phone," Ness said. "Call late at night."

  "Will anyone else be there?"

  That was a point.

  "If a woman answers," Ness said, "don't give your name. If I'm not there, just say you'll call back later."

  Curry nodded.

  "You need a lift to your car?" Ness asked.

  "No. It's not far. I'll walk. Thanks, Mr. Ness."

  Curry extended his hand and Ness shook it.

  "Thank you, Detective Curry."

  "I'm still a detective, then?"

  "Unless one of us gets killed in the very near future," Ness said, "yes, you are."

  Curry rolled his eyes, grinned quickly, and walked off into the darkness, footsteps stirring up cinders.

  Ness stood there and soon felt a hand on his shoulder.

  He whipped his revolver out of his pocket and whirled.

  "Easy!" Wild said. "Did you forget I was here?"

  Ness sighed heavily, put his gun back in his topcoat pocket and said, "I didn't think you'd come up on me so soon after he left."

  "I wasn't ten feet away."

  "Did you hear it?"

  "Every word. It was worth riding on the floor in the back seat of that goddamn Ford of yours."

  "Of the city's. You want to give me that gun back?"

  Wild patted his own topcoat pocket. "I don't think so. I'll keep this little baby till we're out of the Flats, at least."

  "You can't use any of what you heard. Not yet."

  "I know that. Anyway, to me, it's good news."

  "Why?"

  "You remember asking what was eating me, earlier tonight?"

  "I ha
ve a vague recollection."

  Wild gave a wag of his head and said, "I'll tell you in the car. Let's get out of this place. Gives me the goddamn creeps, down here."

  They walked to the car. Wild, about to open the door, one foot on the running board, said, "Okay if I ride in the front seat this time?"

  "Do I really have a choice?" Ness said, getting behind the wheel as Wild climbed in.

  Then the reporter reached out and touched Ness' arm, stopped him from turning the key. "Maybe we better talk now. Here."

  Ness smiled on one side of his face. "Think your revelations will be so startling as to make me run into a lamp post?"

  "No. But just sit here a minute. Let me tell you."

  "Okay."

  "I was looking for a way to get into this with you, especially since it's kind of… well, it's kind of thin, I got to admit it's kind of thin. But after what that undercover guy said, it's put some weight on. And I guess you've already had the safe dropped on you. It ain't gonna hurt if I let the piano down, now."

  "What the hell are you talking about?"

  "It's the cemetery racket."

  "What about it?"

  "I been working hand-in-hand with Cullitan and his eager-beaver young lawyers, you know. I got access to just about everything they're looking at."

  "Right."

  "They been going over the books of the various cemetery companies, so they can track down who the cemeteries laid off their lots to cheap for obvious resale. That way Cullitan hopes to track down who's behind the sales organizations that've been bilking these old immigrants."

  "You want to tell me something I don't know now?"

  Wild ignored that. "The sales organizations themselves have folded up. Cullitan figures some of the salesmen and officials have taken a run-out powder, figures some others are just lyin' low until the grand jury either shits or gets off the pot."

  Ness nodded. "Right. It hasn't even been shown that what the salesmen did was illegal yet. All of the buyers signed contracts for what they were buying, after all. So?"

  "So I was going through the books and found one of the major real estate holders is one S.J. Corepo."

  "What kind of name is that?"

  "A phony-as-hell name, I'd say."

  "Any Corepos in the phone book?"

  "Nope. Not a one. You want to hear what I think?"

  "That's what I'm waiting for."

  "Don't laugh. I think it's an anagram."

  Ness didn't laugh; instead, he thought for a second, and said, flatly, "Cooper."

  Wild shrugged. "Cooper."

  Ness sighed, and said, "Pretty common name to bother disguising," knowing he was reaching for straws.

  "Cooper's initials are J.S.," Wild said, holding his palm out like he was showing his winning hand. "S. J. Corepo. It's all there, brother."

  "How much has 'Corepo' invested in cemetery lots?"

  "Over one hundred grand."

  "Christ, that's more than Cooper's made in his career."

  "The guy must really know how to watch the nickels and dimes, know what I mean?"

  Ness pounded the side of the steering wheel with a fist. "Shit."

  Not far away, a streetcar on the bridge screeched. It was like a cry of pain.

  Wild gestured with both hands, apologetic. "I been wanting to run this past you, but I couldn't quite get it out. Then I heard what Curry said, and…"

  "It would explain some things." Ness pushed his hat back on his head, eyes narrowing.

  "Such as?"

  "Such as why Mo Horvitz was willing to give me the name of the 'outside chief,' if I'd play along."

  Wild bent his head, as if not believing what he'd heard. "You're saying Cooper's the 'outside chief?"

  "It makes sense. I was figuring the top man was one of two precinct captains…"

  "From the Fourteenth or Fifteenth, right."

  "But a Detective Bureau guy like Cooper floats from precinct to precinct. He can make the rounds easier. And my promoting him to bureau chief put him in an even better spot to do that." Ness laughed without humor. "As you once pointed out, he's 'popular with the men.'

  "

  "What does that have to do with Horvitz offering to give up the name of the 'outside chief?"

  "Plenty. What's been the most surprising thing about this cemetery scam?"

  "That the marks would bite in the first place."

  "No, in times like these, that's no surprise. What's surprising is that the Mayfield Road mob hasn't turned up in it. They're nowhere to be seen."

  Wild nodded slowly. "And they always have a piece of the action in this burg. Look at their policy-racket takeover."

  "Exactly. And in every neighborhood where the cemetery scam's been run, cops have vouched for the 'G-men' or the "bank presidents' or 'real estate men' who've come around."

  "What are you saying? That this whole scam is cops?"

  "Damn near. I'd guess that Cooper's the major investor- 'Corepo' is probably only one of the phony names he owns land under. And you can bet Corepo and the rest of Cooper's names have well-stuffed bank accounts in town and out. And other cops have money in the racket, that seems a safe bet. Safer than investing in cemetery lots, anyway. The salesmen and the sales organization officials who ran the scam were most likely con artists from the outside. Whether the cops invited them in, or they came in and linked up with the cops, who can say. What's the difference, really?"

  "Then where does the Mayfield mob come in?"

  "That's just the point: no place. And you can bet they tried. But 'Chief Cooper told them to take a hike. He's that powerful now."

  Wild nodded, not slowly. "Powerful enough for Mo Horvitz to want to depose."

  "I think the 'department within the department' has gotten so powerful, under Cooper, that it's become virtually a rival mob. The cops are running their own rackets now. This cemetery scam may be only one of many."

  "Christ." Wild swallowed thickly. "I think you may be right."

  Ness shrugged. "It's mostly supposition."

  "I bet we can find the facts to turn supposition into a jail sentence for Captain Cooper." Wild clapped his hands. "I can smell the headlines! Am I glad I teamed up with you!"

  Ness started the car. He made a U-turn and headed up out of the Flats.

  "We'll start with Cullitan," Ness said. "We'll have his boys dig into Captain Cooper's finances. We'll find out how a guy making thirty-five hundred a year can afford to sink a hundred grand into cemetery lots."

  "Think of what that hundred grand got turned into, when the lots got signed over to those marks at inflated value."

  Ness guided the Ford onto Huron.

  "It's within your grasp, Eliot."

  "What is?"

  "The big bust, the big collar that'll give you your safety department budget. You may be able to pull this thing off yet."

  Ness said nothing.

  Neither did Wild for a while.

  Then the reporter said, "I'm sorry."

  "Sorry?"

  "About it turning out to be Cooper. About Gwen, really."

  Ness said nothing. Behind them the Flats slipped into darkness, as the underbelly of the clouds glowed a peculiar faded red. Like blood, but diluted.

  CHAPTER 21

  It took only a week for Cullitan and his young staff of lawyers to do the financial research, but it was the longest week of Ness" life.

  Patience was not his long suit, and waiting for that other shoe to drop, where Cooper was concerned, drove Ness quietly crazy.

  He tried to tell himself that Gwen should not be held accountable for the possible sins of her father. He tried to convince himself that she had entered his life, his confidence, by chance. He nearly made himself believe it, too. They spent much of the weekend together, as they had the last several, and Saturday had been fine. They'd gone to the Hollenden Hotel where the newly redecorated Vogue Room was a futuristic dream world of coral and blue, silk wallpaper, and stainless steel, and they'd danced to Benny Go
odman's orchestra, which played a bittersweet arrangement of "Pennies from Heaven" and an intoxicating "The Way You Look Tonight." And when they wound up back at the boathouse, he'd had enough romantic build-up-and enough to drink-to believe in her, to believe in what they'd been sharing these past weeks.

  Sunday had been tougher. He'd taken her to a movie, "Born to Dance," at the Hippodrome. She loved musicals. He didn't like any kind of movie, really, and his boredom led to daydreaming which led to sober reflection about the beautiful daughter of Captain Cooper, the lovely divorcee sitting next to him, eating popcorn as she stared at the silver screen, enthralled by Eleanor Powell who was dancing and singing "her jinx away," if the lyrics of her song were to be believed. He desperately wanted out of the theater suddenly; the matinee audience, a packed house, seemed like a mob that might turn on him any moment. Silly thought. He chewed his thumbnail.

  Gwen had cooked a meal for him after the show. She'd done this a few times, perhaps to show him she could. She waited on him, wearing her red silk Chinese lounging pajamas. She catered to his simple meat-and-potatoes tastes, which he appreciated. And she seemed to be a good cook, good enough to suit him, anyway.

  But it made him sad, somehow. The time he was spending with her here at the boathouse was too much like the time he used to spend with Evie at the Bay Village house. Gwen's brash modern-girl outlook was something that didn't show up much during these quiet evenings. Sitting in front of the fire together; playing two-handed rummy; taking turns stroking the fur of the cat who'd shown up at the back door last week. It was all so familiar. I've been here before, he thought. Why was he moving out of one life into another one, when the new one so resembled the old?

  Any man, getting romantically involved for the first time after his marriage had gone on the rocks, was bound to have such feelings. This Ness knew. He also knew, as they sat in front of the fireplace, the moment fast approaching when they would head upstairs and tumble into bed, that the strain of the situation could not withstand the pressure of what he suspected about her father. Suspicions which, of course, extended to her motives for getting involved with him.

  None of which he could discuss with her.

  "I'm going to sleep down here on the couch tonight," he said.