by Gwen Mayo
“I like the old guy, and would like to help,” Mitch said. “Why won’t you tell me what he’s gotten himself into?”
Cornelia rifled through the night stand and checked under the pillows on his bed to see if he'd hidden any other incriminating secrets in his room. She was about to confide her fears to the driver when the door burst open, and the man she’d identified as Tiny Belluchi came charging through shoulder first. He promptly fell over the bucket of sand and landed on his knees.
Cornelia’s hand snaked into her purse, grasping the Colt, but Tiny’s buddy already had his gun out.
“Everyone stay where you are,” Cesare demanded
She froze, hand clasped around the butt of the gun. Drawing herself to her full height, she fixed the man with her sternest gaze. “You have no business in this room. Leave now, and I won’t have to call the police.” Her finger slid forward under the dark leather, curled around the trigger.
“Too late for that, Granny.” Tiny stood again, towering over both her and Mitch. Teddy had seemingly vanished. She glared at the enormous thug, willing her eyes not to move to the wardrobe and its now-closed door.
“My uncle isn’t here. What do you want with him?”
“None of yer business.” He indicated Mitch. “Who’s he?”
“My bodyguard,” Cornelia stated boldly. “There are beasts in this jungle.”
“Really? Looks like he needs glasses for that big book.”
“It’ll take more than glasses to understand this thing.” Mitch said. “Look, fellas, the old guy’s not here. Why don’t you just skedaddle before someone gets hurt?”
“You’re coming in on this late, pal.” He turned back to Cornelia. “Where’s the old geezer’s camera?”
Cornelia smirked. “With the police. You’re also a little late for that, sir.”
“Where’s his film?”
“In the camera, you fool.”
“Don’t play dumb with me. He’s got more film than that. Thinks he’s a regular D.W. Griffith, all the time he’s spent grinding that camera. Look in there.” He gestured to the wardrobe. “Bet he has a case of the stuff. Get it for me and I might let you live.”
Cornelia hesitated, and the man behind Tiny jerked his gun. “Now, you old bat!”
There was no choice. She half-opened the cedar doors and saw Teddy crouched there, holding the case up for her. Cornelia took it and handed her the purse.
“Is this what you want?” She lifted the leather film case.
“Open it up. Show me what’s inside. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Neither was I.” She flung the bag at him and ducked down. “Teddy, now!”
The cedar doors popped apart and Teddy fired a shot in the direction of the invaders. The bullet buried itself in the plaster as they scurried out of the way.
Mitch hurled the Gertrude Stein book at Cesare. It hit him in the eye. Cesare howled and backed towards the door to the hall, still clutching the gun.
“You should be ashamed, attacking a couple of women.” Teddy shrieked, firing again. Tiny clutched his arm and fled through the door, followed by Cesare.
“Follow them,” Cornelia shouted. “They’ve got the film.”
“Lady, your uncle can buy more film. Those men are gangsters.”
Cornelia pushed past him and out the door.
“There must be some evidence on it that would clear Uncle Percival. Otherwise, they wouldn’t want it.”
Teddy and Mitch bolted after her.
They took the path to the car so fast that Teddy started gasping for air.
Mitch saw her begin to swoon and swept her into his arms without breaking stride. He carried her the rest of the way to the car and settled her into the back seat.
“Look ladies,” he said, as he turned the Cadillac around, sending a spray of gravel toward the river. “I’m not just a driver. I’m a reporter for the Saint Petersburg Times, working on a big story involving mob money and the proposed casino. Those guys we’re chasing and their friend are part of Ignacio Antinori’s gang. They came to Tampa by way of Chicago.”
“Is that so?”
Mitch glared at Cornelia and nearly missed a curve.
“Watch the road,” Teddy shouted.
Mitch jerked the wheel, narrowly missing a large palmetto palm, and pulled back onto the gravel road. By then, the flivver had put some distance between it and Mitch’s car.
“Don’t worry, ladies, it’s all dead ends till we reach the road for the hotel. We’re not going to lose them.”
He stepped on the gas and the Cadillac lunged forward, closing the gap.
Cornelia rolled down the window.
“Teddy, hand me my gun. A little closer and I’ll try to shoot out their tires.”
“Mine’s in the glove box,” Mitch said, “along with a box of shells.”
She opened the door in the dash and found a respectable .44 inside. It resembled her gun; perhaps Mitch had been a doughboy in his youth. She clicked the safety off and aimed. Just as she fired, the car hit a rut in the dirt road, causing her shot to take out the right taillight instead of their tire. She swallowed her curse.
“You were saying that we have a bunch of Chicago mobsters trying to get control of the new casino. Where does your newspaper come into this?”
“This bunch moved in on the Tampa rackets. Charlie Wall is also vying for the casino. The men your friend in the back has been partying with are Charlie’s boys. Charlie’s a home-grown crook who practically runs the Cuban district. He controls gambling, booze, and prostitution from Tampa. He considers all of Central Florida his territory and isn't about to let the Chicago mob move in.”
“We’re in the middle of a mob war,” Teddy said between wheezes. “How exciting.”
“This is the kind of excitement that gets people killed,” Mitch replied. “If your uncle is tangled up with any of these men, he’s in a lot bigger trouble than the local police or you ladies can handle.”
The lone taillight ahead of them veered to the right and Mitch followed. Suddenly, it disappeared and the headlamps were bearing down on them.
“Cripes!” Mitch jerked the wheel hard to the right and they narrowly missed being sideswiped by the mobsters’ car.
Cornelia saw the reason why the men had doubled back. Traffic was at a standstill on the road to the hotel. Both lanes were filled with lines of cars headed one way.
She thumped the side of the Caddy. “What the heck is going on tonight besides a busted birthday party?”
“Valentino movie,” Teddy answered from the back. “Double feature.”
Mitch got the car turned around on the narrow road as gracefully as an elephant in a cave. He followed the Ford’s dust trail away from the hotel lights.
“They must not know where they’re headed. The road ends at the river.”
“Good,” Cornelia said. They can’t get away.”
Once the gangsters crossed the bridge near the sporting lodge, they must have realized the same thing. The junker wheeled back toward the Cadillac, Tiny and Cesare firing from both sides of the car. In the middle of the bridge, the car turned sideways. The driver kept shooting while his bigger companion got out.
Mitch pulled to the side of the road and looked at Cornelia.
“What now?”
They watched as Tiny lifted a large rock from the side of the road and dropped it into the professor’s film bag. He shot a couple of holes in the bag, tossed it into the river, then gave them a one finger salute before getting back in the car. Its wheels kicked up gravel as Cesare put it into gear.
Cornelia was a kettle boiling with rage.
“Ram them,” she shouted.
“Look, lady, I don’t own this car. It’s time to go to the police.”
Chapter 10
The Lodge had all lights burning when they returned. Mr. Hoyt stood in the doorway with Deputy Andy. Mitch began looking for a place to park the Cadillac.
“We’re in for it now,” Teddy said.
“We’re not the only ones,” Cornelia growled. “If these men were doing their proper jobs, criminals would not be breaking into hotel rooms at will and Uncle Percival would not be spending his birthday in jail.”
“You have to forgive them,” Mitch said. “The county probably hired a number of officers sufficient to handle the listed population on the last census. The last few years have been hell—excuse my French—everywhere there’s a beach down here. Land speculators, new houses and citizens, plus an enormous number of tourists have been pouring in, and the crime has followed.”
“West Coast should have provided extra security for their customers, then.”
“You’d think they could afford it. They bought the land here for two bucks an acre.” He inched the car up against a cabbage palm. “This is as close as we’re going to get, ladies.”
Teddy climbed out of the back. “I hope you don’t have to sweep me off my feet again, Mitch, even though it was exciting.”
The Lodge’s porch was crowded with whispering guests. When they finally reached the entry stairs, the waiting men barraged them with questions and demands. Cornelia tried to answer the deputy first, but the overwrought Mr. Hoyt drowned her out.
She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. “Everyone shut up!”
Everyone shut up abruptly, and she nodded. “I think we should continue this in private. Quieter, and fewer people to overhear and gossip later.”
“Let’s use the office,” Mr. Hoyt said. He led them to a small room filled to the brim with desk and files. “I’m sorry; I don’t think I can fit enough seats for everyone in here.”
“We can stand,” Andy said.
“Miss Teddy should sit. She has some health problems.” Mitch grabbed a chair from a nearby room and shoved the men aside. He planted it on the other side of the desk.
“How sweet.” Teddy sat and balanced her cane between her feet and hands.
“Can we shut the door now?” Cornelia asked.
“If we all hold our breath for a moment,” Andy said. They squeezed together, and the door was able to close.
“Now,” Andy said. “Tell us what happened.”
“We came back to get some pajamas and fresh clothing for my uncle,” Cornelia said. “Since he has none where he is. While we were gathering them, two men burst in on us.”
“Who were these men?”
“The large one was a Mr. Martino Belluchi. He’s staying at the Homosassa Hotel. His companions are Cesare Ricci and Leonardo Mazzi. I believe it was Mr. Ricci who accompanied him. It wasn’t Mr. Mazzi; I met him at one of the hotel soirees.”
“You know them.”
“Only through their attempts to break into my uncle’s room. They’ve tried twice before, with very little protection from the management.”
“You didn’t tell me their names,” Mr. Hoyt said. “That might have helped.”
“I didn’t know their names until recently. I learned who they were by looking into the matter myself.”
“Ma’am, you should have told me or the sheriff,” Andy said. “That’s our job. Trying to investigate on your own was only asking for trouble.”
Her face felt warm, and not just because of the close quarters. “I did tell the sheriff. The next time I saw him, he’d had my uncle arrested.”
“Arrested?” Hoyt squeaked. “For what?”
“Stay out of this,” Davidson said. “So these men broke into your uncle’s room?”
Teddy piped up. “Not successfully, until tonight. The professor had the room booby-trapped.”
Hoyt turned to her. “How did you get in without getting bashed?”
“He told us how to disarm it so we could get him his pajamas,” Cornelia said. “While we were in the room, Mr. Martino and his friend came through the door.”
“Did they assault you?”
“One of them shoved a gun in our faces. The other demanded my uncle’s film.”
“His what?”
“The professor has a movie camera,” Teddy said. “A very nice Eastman. He bought it for himself for Christmas.”
“I’ve seen it,” Davidson said. “He was grinding away when I found him in Crystal River.”
“He’s filmed everything,” Cornelia said. “The train, the trees, the river, the alligators. Obviously, he’s recorded something these men don’t want seen. Something that will reveal who really killed Mr. Janzen.”
“Killed? Oh, dear,” Hoyt pressed a hand to his face. “A guest arrested for murder. What shall I tell the owners?”
Cornelia punched the door. “He was not arrested for murder! The sheriff had him detained as a witness.”
“Witnesses aren’t detained,” Hoyt said.
“They are if they do something stupid,” she grumbled.
The deputy smiled briefly at that line. “At least you know that he’s safe tonight. So, these men robbed you at gunpoint?”
“Essentially.”
“There were shots,” Hoyt said. “Holes in the walls, hole in the doorjamb, blood on the floor.”
“Blood?” Davidson looked the ladies and Mitch over. “Who got shot?”
“I winged Mr. Martino,” Teddy announced proudly.
Cornelia winced.
“You had a gun?”
“I did. I popped right out of the wardrobe and gave those hoodlums a real surprise.”
“You were hiding in the wardrobe?”
“It seemed practical at the time. The men broke in while I was choosing a jacket for the professor.”
“And he had a gun in there.”
“Not that I know of. It was Cornelia’s gun. She always keeps her service revolver in her handbag. So when those thugs had her get the professor’s film, I borrowed it.”
The deputy shifted back to Cornelia. “You own a gun?”
“Of course; it’s for my personal safety. As an army nurse I travel a great deal, sometimes in unsavory places. A woman has to guard her virtue.”
Davidson’s eyes swept over Cornelia, from her oxford shoes to the gray hair in a granny bun. She straightened to her maximum height, squared her jaw, and glared at him. He sat down on the desk and didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, he pointed at Mitch. “Who’s this guy?”
“Our driver,” Cornelia stated. “We had him come pick us up in Crystal River. He was helping us carry my uncle’s things.”
“Uh huh.” The deputy took out his notepad and flipped to a fresh page. “And your name?”
“Mitchell Grant.”
“Where are you from and what do you do, Mr. Grant?”
“I’m from Tampa, and right now, I’m a driver for the West Coast Development Company.”
“You came a long way to be a glorified taxi man.”
“I needed the work.”
“Needed the work,” Davidson said. “Getting lots of tips?”
“I’m doing all right,” Mitch said, and gave Teddy a wink.
“So, what do you say happened?”
“I brought the ladies back to town. They asked me to give them a hand, so I did.”
“You were in the room when these men broke in?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do when that happened?”
“I put my hands up. They had guns.”
“Oh, don’t be modest, Mitch,” Teddy said. “You throw even better than Dazzy Vance. That book nailed him right in the eye. And you did a great job chasing them.”
Davidson slapped the desk. “For crying out loud! Do you people just want to be killed?”
Cornelia glared at him. “We gave chase because no one else is interested in looking past my uncle for Mr. Janzen’s murderer.”
“Lady, your uncle is up to his elbows in this or they wouldn’t be chasing him. In case you haven’t figured it out, those men are hoodlums.”
“Well, my uncle is not. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to take him his pajamas before the night is over.”
The jailer was right about one t
hing. There was a cozy fire going at the Crystal River City Jail when Cornelia returned. Uncle Percival was still sitting on the edge of his cot, but the night man had pulled a chair over. The old gentleman looked almost as ancient as her uncle, though he lacked the snowy beard and thick white hair. For that matter, he had more hair growing from his ears and broad nose than from the top of his head. The two of them were playing checkers through the bars of the cage.
“About time you folks got back,” the night man said. “I was beginning to think you forgot.”
“We ran into a couple of thugs who wanted to steal my uncle’s film,” Cornelia said. “It took us a while to get away from them.”
“From what I hear, they were trying to get away from you,” the sheriff said, entering the room with the cages.
He closed the door, leaned back against the frame, and rubbed his chin as he considered what to say next.
“Suppose you start at the beginning, and tell me what happened from the time you left here, Miss Pettijohn. Keep in mind that I’m going to be powerful upset with you if I find out later that you left out important details.”
His steady gaze did more to unnerve Cornelia than all of his deputy’s questions. The sandwich she had eaten in the car weighed like rocks in her stomach. When she started to speak, her mouth was so dry that her voice came out in a rasp.
“We answered Deputy Andy’s questions before we left the hotel.”
“Andy is a decent deputy, but questions don’t always get the whole truth. For instance, he didn’t know anything about that little shootout by the river. I want the whole story, Miss Pettijohn, from beginning to end.”
Cornelia closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. Judging from the stubborn set of Sheriff Bowden’s jaw, an abbreviated version of the night’s events wouldn’t do. This was going to take a while. It was also likely to land them in the cell beside her uncle, not a prospect she relished.
“I guess it started with me,” Mitch said. “I was worried that the ladies were getting caught between the two mobs trying to expand into Citrus County.”