Elliot hopped up, snatched Tom Molak to his feet and clubbed him in his ear. He next dragged Tom to the tack room and threw him to the floor, right next to Willow’s corpse.
“Anyone caught up in Alistair Williams’s secrets winds up dead. Like this girl, whose only mistake was she got herself hooked on his heroin. Now, I’m gonna to ask you once more.”
Elliot made a show of rolling up his sleeves. He kicked him in the shoulder. Molak fell out on the barn floor.
“You two are the law! You’re just gonna let this happen?” Molak was cowering.
“Southville is the boondocks, Mr. Molak,” George said. “We do things a bit slower around here.”
“Yeah,” Ned said. “We’ll probably get involved after the first finger is broken.”
“Now, Molak!”
“My guy’s name is Costas,” Molak said.
“Costas Cartage, Limited? That Costas?”
“Yeah.”
“That company belonged to McAlpin’s first wife. They had a son.”
“Jon Costas. It’s an alias he uses while he tries to get out in front of what’s goin’ on.”
“This is about his family’s shipping company.”
“McAlpin never gave it back after the divorce. It was a feather in his cap. Ever heard of a fella named Nickelson? A real heavy?”
“No.”
“I guess Bill Drury never talked about him, huh?”
“What do you know about Drury?”
“What everyone knows. You dropped a dime on other cops to him and it got him killed. Ya know, when I found out you were lookin’ for Williams, your name rang a bell. I did some digging and got the entire scoop on you. That night in Drury’s garage. Those two stiffs you left out in his alley. Turnin’ over your own is one thing. Killin’ ’em is another. Guess you don’t bleed blue. I don’t judge. Me neither.”
George and Ned glanced at each other. Elliot planted his knee in Molak’s chest.
“I wanna know how you know I’m lookin’ for Alistair Williams.”
“The wife told us! Came right out with it. The entire trust board knows. They hope to Polish Jesus you don’t find him.”
“No way she told you.”
“Whaddya think? She’s savvy? She’s masterminded a plan to take the McAlpins for all they got? She’s a fuckin’ maid, Caprice!” Molak snickered. “Sure, she’s a cultured limey broad. So what. She’s just a housekeeper. All she knows how to do is bat her eyes. No amount of playin’ it up is gonna keep these rich fuckers from eatin’ her lunch.”
“You got no angle, figure I might, so you tail me. What happens when I find him, huh? You make sure he and I take the dirt nap together? One hole, two bodies?”
“It ain’t like that.”
“Don’t tell me what it ain’t like, you frickin’ jagoff. Unless you got a dead body in your barn. For all I know, you killed this girl.”
“My instructions were to find Williams. When my trail went cold, I was to tail you until you got far enough to where you may be amenable to a deal,” Molak said.
“Yeah? What deal?”
“Costas—McAlpin—says he can straighten things out for you at the department in exchange for Williams. He’s got the connections.”
“I deliver him to you so he stays missing. Margaret gets shit. Is that the thing?”
“Bill Nickelson is currently the heavy on the South Side. The Chicago Outfit runs it since they killed Teddy Roe.”
“Fuck me,” Elliot said. “Teddy Roe was my friend. When?”
“August.”
“Go on.”
“About Ted Roe?”
“Costas and Nickelson, idiot.”
“Nickelson doesn’t give a shit about running numbers. His bread and butter is narcotics. From what I could tell, this Chauncey character worked for him, until he met Alistair. That’s how he got a job in the house.”
“Nickelson put a man on McAlpin? What for?”
“Dunno. They had some dealings together, but the new wife had McAlpin reevaluatin’ his life. He wasn’t the same, not cooperatin’. Maybe Nickelson wanted him watched.”
“Or Nickelson had Chauncey kill him.”
“Not likely. Nickelson needed McAlpin for his shipping concern. You just can’t replace those political connections. My guess is the guy just got drunk and took a bath. Jon Costas figures giving Williams back to Nickelson is a peace offering to get him out of his family’s affairs, once and for all.”
Elliot backed off. Tom rose to his feet.
“Everyone wants to bargain for this fucker,” Elliot said.
“Can’t see why? Real pasty fella. Nothin’ too special.”
“You’ve seen him.”
“Sure I have. Costas asked me to keep an eye on the family the day his tatuś drank his own bathwater, if you get me.”
“Got a photo?”
“Nope. Not gonna do you much good, anyhow. He’s underground. He ain’t comin’ up unless you smoke him out.
Elliot paced the tack room, speaking to everyone, but no one.
“So Nickelson has McAlpin by the short ones somehow, McAlpin gives him full use of the shipping company. The old man’s clout can get anything past customs.”
“Sweet setup, right?”
“No one expects McAlpin to take a powder, so Nickelson has to fill the gap somehow. McAlpin took a liking to Alistair Williams. Margaret said he was giving him a leg up.”
“Stupid, I know,” Tom said.
“If Chauncey is Nickelson’s man in the house, he has him lean on Alistair to keep everything goin’ smooth. Williams tries puttin’ it back on with Margaret, has access to files, maybe can sign McAlpin’s script.”
“The family didn’t announce he was dead right away. Those rich stiffs don’t ever want to be caught holdin’. Always gotta get out front.”
“How long?”
“A few weeks.”
“Alistair fudged up the documentation enough where he’s now signing off on cargo manifests on behalf of the company. Which must piss off your guy to no end.”
“All Costas wants is his grandfather’s shipping company back.”
“Even if it means putting a bullet in Alistair Williams’ head?”
“He’d prefer that, actually.”
“Where do I find McAlpin’s kid?”
“He owns half of the Greek Delta. Walk into any place down there, you just might find him sitting down over some souvlaki. He ain’t like the rest of ’em. Tough character. Made of different stuff. Even has a little accent.”
“Except I can’t show my face in Chicago. You probably got the word out.”
“What word you think I got, Caprice? I’ve been out of the department over a year.”
“Yeah, but you white.”
“I’m Polish, which ain’t that frickin’ white.”
“You take what I know, then get me out of the way so you can finish the job yourself.”
“Christ, Caprice. No one cares that you killed those two cops.” Tom said. He shook his head. Elliot was stunned stiff. It was a secret he wanted to keep from George and Ned. Now Molak let it out of the bag.
“What’s he saying?” George pulled Elliot around by his arm.
“Wait,” Ned said. “Weren’t you on the Chicago cops?”
“I didn’t know they were cops until after I killed them.”
“You killed your fellow police officers?” George seemed afraid for him. Elliot felt cold. It was finally time to spill.
“I informed on the brass who were mixed up in the Chicago Outfit.”
“That’d probably have you dead.” Molak snorted.
“That’s why I couldn’t mention it in St. Louis. I was a mole for Senator Kefauver’s special committee.”
“No shit?” Ned put his hand to his mouth. “I read about those hearings. That was big news.”
Elliot stared off into his own memories. His voice shook. His eyes watered.
“One guy was old. Probably retired from the job
. The other was some kid. They assassinated my friend, the writer Bill Drury, right in front of me. One of them got me in the shoulder. Probably thought I went down, too.”
“Good Lord,” George said. He put his hand on Elliot’s arm.
“I…I got mad.” Tears fell down Elliot’s cheek. “If there was any chance Bill could survive, I wouldn’t have gone after them, but they opened his chest up like a watermelon at a picnic. With his family upstairs having dinner in the kitchen.”
Elliot felt weak at the knees. He wanted to throw up.
“I didn’t even feel my own wound. I was filled with wrath. I chased them down and shot them both right in the middle of Western Avenue. Afterward, I made them as cops. I been runnin’ ever since.”
The entire barn was silent. Even Molak kept his mouth shut.
“I tried to do good, Georgie.” Elliot wiped his eyes. “I can’t say my intentions started out that way, but once I was in deep, I tried to do good.”
George didn’t speak. Neither did Ned.
“So look, is that what’s on the wire or not? Don’t try to con me, Molak. I really need to know.”
“Where do you think you were? New York, where cops all kiss each other’s asses? You idjit.” Molak stood up. “Look, they were dirty. Why you think the young one was off the job?”
“He was off the job?”
“Got caught dealin’ aitch in Rogers Park. Didn’t kick anything up to his watch commander. Axed maybe a year before you plugged him.”
Elliot was stunned into silence.
“That’s why nobody gives a shit, ya bozo.”
“That’s the word?” Elliot didn’t let it show, but he was hopeful.
“Hey, you’re still in deep shit for bein’ a rat, but you gave up the badge. It’s yesterday’s deep shit.”
Elliot’s jaw tensed.
“Just don’t buy any tickets to the policeman’s ball. And stay here, in this half-horse town.”
Tom Molak’s high-pitched laugh was full of scorn. Elliot wanted to hit him again. He also wanted to believe him, but he wasn’t that desperate.
“What do you want me to do?” George said.
“Yeah, Elliot. How can we help?”
“Well, I think this property is clearly marked no trespassing.”
“That it is,” Ned said.
“Seems to me this gentleman was violating the law, no doubt trying to cover up his tracks for a murder.”
“Now hang on a second,” Tom said.
“Ned, would you please take former Detective Sargent Molak into custody,” George said.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!”
“Right away, Sheriff. C’mon, big shot. You’re spending the night.”
Tom Molak was struck whiter than usual as Ned handcuffed him and led him out to the cruiser.
“How long do you need?”
“Twenty-four hours. Maybe he walks back to his car. Finds it on two flats.”
“You’ve gotten yourself into a deep one, haven’t you,” George said.
“You got it wrong, Georgie Boy. Things are lookin’ up.” An uncomfortable silence filled the space between them.
“I didn’t mean what I said about—”
“Yeah, you did.”
Each stared at the other.
“Thanks for keeping Molak on ice.”
Elliot walked out the barn door.
“What about…?”
Elliot stopped in his tracks. There was still Willow. He took a deep breath, which he released in a tremor of guilt.
“You’re the sheriff, George. You can call the undertaker in town and ask for them to store the body until someone comes to claim it.”
“Right.”
“They just threw you into the job, huh?”
“We need to determine next of kin.”
“I’ll take care of that.”
Elliot jogged down the access road. He ran the entire way to Miss Betty’s. No chance Willow’s murder would go unanswered. No chance in hell.
CHAPTER 16
Jon II was not his daddy’s favorite, yet he still wielded enough power to dictate the bread and circuses. A lesser lord, yet still a McAlpin, thus to cross him was a risk. Elliot didn’t want to confront him cold, so he called Elaine from Miss Betty’s and asked her to check the files for intel related to the elder McAlpin’s first marriage, the shipping company, anything that could even the odds in their sit-down. Or toe-down. He needed an angle. Elliot bet it could be found in the manner of his father’s death. Maybe his stepmother, too. Or Margaret’s advantageous union. If Jon Costas, McAlpin or whatever, was the stand-up guy Molak suggested, that’d have to piss him off. He’d start there.
Alistair’s satchel in hand, he walked into the office as it was just hit by Hurricane Mikey. Tom Molak’s boast rang true. Margaret had disclosed to the trust board she’d hired Elliot to seek out Alistair. They informed their probate attorney of their severe displeasure. Mike pulled Elliot into his office.
“Who are you to book yourself out for investigative work?”
“It just fell in my lap.”
“You work for us, Elliot. It’s our lap. I don’t want some messy business—the wife screwing the driver while the husband’s body is still warm—in our goddamned lap!”
“Margaret made her intentions quite clear.”
“Margaret? She’s Margaret now?” Mike struck the top of his desk. “Are you and the wife schtuppin’?”
“What?”
“Are you fucking Margaret McAlpin?”
“I can’t believe I need to answer this, but no.”
“This is what she does, Elliot. Pouring on the charm is how she casts a wide net. She’s not naive.”
“Neither am I.”
“A lady that looks and sounds like she does? It’s the most disarming thing she could be.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think you’re under pressure to do something for your uncle. You may not see it, but you wear your desperation like a Sunday suit.”
Elliot took Mike’s overreach as an affront but bit his lip. He tried reason.
“I heard what you said the day you gave me the assignment. How you wanted to be able to wrap this McAlpin thing up. All I have to do is get a line on Williams.”
Mike looked up at Elliot.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“I only want to help, blah blah blah…you sound like my father.”
“So do you.”
The words shut Mike’s mouth, if only for a second.
“I thought we were friends,” Mike said.
“Friends trust one another’s judgment.”
“You should have come to me.”
“Stop the world from spinnin’ to get your permission for what only I can do?” Elliot shook his head. “There he is.”
“There’s who—”
“Isadora Rabinowitz. I figured he’d show up sometime.”
Mike seethed.
“You insult me, just because you took an opportunity for yourself behind my back.”
“I took an opportunity for this firm, that worked for us three ways!”
“I don’t need you taking opportunities. I need you doing what I need you to do!”
Elliot resented nothing more in this world than being treated as the white man’s nigger. He took off his hat and held it in both his hands as a means of self-restraint.
“Mike, when I met you, I was in a jam. I may not have had it all figured out, but I was alive. I was breathing. My heart was still beating. So don’t act like you saved my life by making me the guy in the office that gets things done.”
“I offered you a job,” Mike said.
“You offered me a gap to cover. Call it what you wanna.”
“So a little gratitude is out of the question?”
“You’ve seen my gratitude in my work. It’s about something other than that, now ain’t it?”
“Fine. What’s it about?”
> “You’re like most ofays. You think you’re entitled to keep the niggers you save.”
“Don’t make this about me! Your name on the door wasn’t even dry and you were already angling for yourself.”
“Seems as if my name was on the door for show.”
Elliot threw open Mike’s door. He marched out into the main room toward the door. Elaine looked up from the McAlpin file.
“Elliot, wait.”
“I have to run.”
“Where are you going?” Mike paced after him. Elliot spun around.
“I told Elaine not moments after the offer that I was doin’ it. Tried to give her the office’s cut. Take it up with her. I’m in a world of shit. I gotta go.”
Mike turned to Elaine.
“What’s this about?”
“Get out of his face about it, Michael.”
“Dammit, Elaine, the McAlpin account makes this office!”
Elaine slapped her palms down on the desk and hopped to her feet. She pointed her finger, but just before she could erupt, she righted herself. Her tone was hot, but she kept her voice low. It froze Elliot in his tracks, as it did Mike Robin.
“No. You make this office, Michael. You. Me. Now Elliot. If we didn’t have these butter-and-egg men footing the bill, we’d be able to branch out, maybe take in another attorney. Or at least a paralegal. Finally do some work that really matters.”
“Here we go,” Mike said.
Elliot was smart enough to not say shit. He was leaning on the wall at that point, nursing his guilt that his decisions caused such disharmony. Mike Robin was the licensed attorney, but Elaine Critchlow was his queen. She would have her way. In smooth, cold tones of a greater bearing, she spoke fierce words.
“It’s time you took a risk. Look at Elliot. He’s been getting by on the seat of his pants for, what now? Three years?”
“Two,” Elliot said. “I like to think of it as living by my wits.”
“Shut up. You’re a train wreck.” Elliot shoved his hands in his pockets.
“These race cases we assist would be won outright if you were out front. Instead, you write the briefs and allow the other attorneys to argue. You do the work. They get the recognition.”
“I don’t care about recognition,” Mike said.
“I am so sick of your dishonesty.”
Elaine grabbed the file from her desk and shoved it at him.
A Negro and an Ofay (The Tales of Elliot Caprice Book 1) Page 16