by JJ Zep
“Fine, fine,” I said, rolling up a sleeve. Losing a finger was one thing, being sent back to face to the mind numbing tedium of the Accounts Receivable department was quite another. It frightened me even more than pissing off the second most important demon in Hell.
“Knew you’d see it my way,” Dope said, a little too smugly for my liking. He handed me a jar about the size of a drinking glass. On it was embossed the firefly logo of the agency. “Now,” Dope continued, “all you got to do is scoop up our little aquatic primate and then seal the jar with this lid.”
I looked at the tank. The sea monkey had its flat nose pressed against the glass, watching us. It appeared to be grinning. I raised the jar to a level above the tank, lowered it again. The sea monkey followed every move with tiny yellow eyes.
“No time like the present.” Dope said.
“Ten says he loses a finger,” one of the agents said.
“Twenty says he bags the sucker,” said Dope.
“You’re on.”
I dipped the jar into the water. It felt warm. The sea monkey darted into the bottom corner of the tank. I followed it until the jar clinked against the glass walls.
I looked to Dope. “Little sucker’s outmaneuvered me,” I said. “No way I can get the jar in there.”
“Tempt him out,” Dope said. “Wiggle your pinky about.”
“What! You want me to use my fingers as bait.”
“Think of the alternative,” Dope said.
I did. A finger was a small price to pay to get out of the Accounts Receivable department. I wiggled my pinky, and the sea monkey took the bait. It darted forward straight into the jar and I scooped it up in one movement and sealed the lid.
“Congratulations, Agent Blackwell,” Dope said, as he held out a hand to collect on his bet.
Now, you’re probably wondering what fishing for sea monkeys has to do with catching a runaway soul. I did too until Dope explained it to me, and it actually made perfect sense once he did. Unfortunately, he also swore me to silence, so I can’t let you in on the secret just yet. You’ll have to wait until I track down Freddie.
The next day I was fitted out in a navy-blue pin striped suit with a double-breasted jacket, a Black fedora with a white band, and black and white two-tone shoes. I looked like the worse caricature of a gangster ever, but Dope seemed pleased with the effect and I must admit I felt pretty good for a cliché. Dope escorted me down to the pool on U14.
“Hey Jitterbug,” he shouted as we entered. Jitterbug and his trolls were nowhere to be seen. “Jitterbug!” Dope shouted again.
“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah,” came the reply from behind us. “What’s an imp got to do to get some shuteye around here?”
“Ah, Jitterbug,” Dope said. “You remember Blackwell?”
“My star pupil,” Jitterbug said sarcastically.
“Hiya, Jitterbug,” I said, which seems to annoy him.
“Blackwell here needs a transport,” Dope continued, “Chicago, 1927.”
“Yeah, and I need a lady imp in heat. Where’s your papers?”
Dope handed them over and Jitterbug read, his scarlet complexion turning pale pink. “This is from Abbaddon.”
“So it is?”
“What’s Abbaddon’s interest in this dead beat?”
“You want to ask him yourself?”
“No, no. I just wondered.” His voice trailed off.
“So,” Dope said. “Chicago?”
“1927. I heard the first time. This way.” Jitterbug led us through a labyrinth of tunnels and caves, eventually stopping at what looked like a small pool of near black water. “This will do ya,” he said proudly.
I stared into the pool. It looked deep and cold and dark.
“I’ve had worse,” Dope assured me. This is a bathtub compared to some of the waterways I’ve traveled. You should try the Southern Ocean on Titan, or the Roman sewage works.”
I didn’t really want to hear any more. “So what? I just step right in?”
“Whenever you’re ready,” Jitterbug giggled. When I hesitated he added, “I can offer a bit of persuasion if needed.”
“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Dope said.
“No, it won’t,” I said and took a step forward.
It is difficult to describe the feeling of stepping into that pool. I had a sensation of falling a great distance, the water offering no resistance at all. It was very dark but eventually the darkness above me began to lighten and I had the weird sensation of falling upwards. I could now see shafts of light penetrating the water from above. It all looked very beautiful until the cold hit, suddenly and without warning. The narrowness of the pool expanded outward and I felt my feet settle on the sandy bottom of what? A lake? An ocean? It was freezing. The water was clear and I could see for a great distance in every direction. I turned slowly around. There was a figure dressed in a navy-blue pin striped suit exactly like mine. He stood upright, his blond hair gently streaming with the current. I started wading towards him, noticing, as I got closer, that his feet were encased in a block of concrete.
I felt myself moving more easily through the water as though my body itself had turned liquid. I was being drawn to the figure, pushed on the current, incapable of resistance. I was fading, becoming liquid, until it felt like there was nothing to me at all, nothing but water. The last of my substance seemed to dissolve and then I entered the body of the drowned man, whose name was Johnny and who had some scores to settle back in Chicago, most of them with Al Capone.
seven
“Hey mister!”
“I think he’s dead”
“Hey, mister!” the first kid said again.
I opened my eyes and looked up at the drab skies above, then at the two kids who had found me lying on the beach.
“Where am I?”
“You’re on South Shore Beach, mister. Gee, your lips look kinda blue. You want we should call someone?”
“No, I think I’m okay.” I tried to stand but it felt like my feet were encased in concrete. And then I remembered, the coldness of the water, the body of the mobster, the long underwater bunny-hop towards to shore of Lake Michigan. I was in Chicago and I had a job to do, which was to find a hoodlum named Freddie ‘Fingers’ Finnegan. I was going to get to that as soon as I removed the concrete block from my feet.
“You boys wouldn’t perhaps have a jackhammer would you?”
“Hey, you kids! Move away from there! Scram, I say.” I looked up to see a tubby cop waddling his way across the sand. He looked down at me and shook his head with a sorrowful expression on his fat face. “Well, I guess it’s true what they say, the bad penny always comes back. What in hell’s name are you doing still alive, Black? You’re supposed to be swimming with the fishes.”
“Black?” No, officer I’m afraid you have the wrong man, I’m Dex…”
“You’re Johnny Black, not point denying it. Question is, how did you swim out of there in them cement shoes?”
“No really, I’m…” I started to say, before I realized that I was Johnny Black, I’d assumed the identity of the mobster I’d seen at the bottom of the lake. I put on my best Jimmy Cagney voice and said. “Yeah, so what if I am copper! You gonna stand there lookin’ like a club sandwich of you gonna get me outa this thing.”
“Why, I oughta…” The cop said and raised his nightstick.
“Hold it right there, officer!” a voice called out. “We’ll take it from here!” Two men were working their way towards us. They were dressed in suits and trench coats and fedora hats and looked like extras from the set of The Untouchables. The beach was getting crowded.
“The hell you will,” the cop said. “This is my collar. Who are you guys?”
“Agent Barnes, Agent Noble. Bureau of Investigation.” one of the men said flashing a badge.
“Yeah, well this is local business, not federal. I’m arresting this man on a charge of vagrancy.”
“Oh, boy,” Agent Barnes said. “Look’s like we’r
e going to have to do this the hard way. Noble?”
Agent Noble stepped forward and approached the fat cop. “You’re Officer Kowalski, right? Your wife is Edna?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
“Well, you know how Edna said she was visiting with her sister Marion last Thursday evening?”
“Yeah, she does that every week. What of it?”
“She was actually out at some gin joint, smooching it up with your neighbor Tom Lancaster. She’s with him right now too. If you run on home you’ll just be able to catch them at it.”
“I don’t believe you,” the chubby cop said.
“Oh, you don’t, do ya? Take a look at this then.” Noble produced something from his coat. It looked like an old pocket watch. He flipped it open and showed it to the cop.
“Why that no good, two-bit flapper,” the cop growled. “I’ll show her. No-one makes a palooka outa Tom Kowalski!” He rushed off across the beach faster than it seemed possible for him to move.
“Who are you guys?” I asked the two agents.
“Barnes and Noble. We’re in town on a job, a soul chaser from Underworld trying to stir up some business and steal away some of our potential customers. Doppelganger asked us to look you up and see how you were doing. Not too good by the look of things.”
“I just got here,” I protested.
“Yeah, well, we done what Dope asked,” Barnes said. “Good luck with your mission.”
“Wait,” I said, “What about this concrete block?”
“Already done,” Barnes said, and when I looked down the concrete had disintegrated into a muddy, grey mess around my ankles.
“One other thing,” Barnes said, “Dope said to tell you, Johnny Black keeps a room at the Paladin Hotel. You may want to start there.”
“And where exactly is that?”
“I look like a tour guide to you?”
“Thanks a bunch you guys,” I said as they walked away.
“Amateur,” Barnes said back over his shoulder.
eight
The Paladin Hotel was a real dump. Whoever this Johnny Black was, he was certainly not very successful as a mobster. Either that or he was the world’s biggest cheapskate. I entered a dark and dilapidated foyer, with paint peeling from the walls, a few lopsided couches and a scarred reception desk. The clerk behind the counter looked up when I walked in and a smile crept onto his face.
“Mister Black, Mister Johnny. I’m so happy to see you. I hear the terrible stories, they tell me Mister Johnny Black, she’s-a dead. But I no believe. Mister Johnny what happened? Your suit its-a all wet and there is a mud on your shoes. You bring to Sergio, I clean okay. But-a first you pay two weeks rent-a for Sergio. Please? No?”
“Listen Serge,” I said. “I’ve had a tough day. How about I go up to my room and wash up and I’ll settle with you later, okay?” I wasn’t sure how I was going to do that, as Dope hadn’t seen fit to give me any money, but I just wanted to get to the room, to get out of these wet clothes and to take a hot bath.
“No,” Sergio said stubbornly. “First-a you pay, then-a you go room.”
“Look Serge…”
“No, first pay,” Serge said barring the way to the elevator.
“I’ll settle up Mr. Black’s bill,” a voice said from the somewhere in the gloom. I peered into the darkness and could just make out a man dressed in a light-colored suit and Panama hat. The man hoisted himself to his feet with a grunt, leaning heavily of his cane and limped over to us. As he walked into the light I could see that he was pale skinned with a jagged pink scar running from his ear to his chin.
“I’m grateful for your generosity, sir, but…”
“Think nothing of it,” the man said, removing a fat billfold from his pocket. “How much is it?” he asked Sergio.
“It’s a two weeks, twenty five dollar a week, that’s-a fifty dollar.”
“Here’s a hundred, that’s two weeks in advance.”
“Thank you, mister, thank you” Sergio said and rushed off clutching the money like he’d just won a bumper jackpot at Arlington Park.
As soon as he was out of earshot, the man slipped me a pile of bills, “That’s an advance on the next installment,” he said. “Make sure you don’t disappoint me.”
“Next installment of what?”
“You got amnesia or something?”
“I might have. Someone just tried to drown me.”
“I thought they might.”
“They?”
“Quit messing around,” the man said. “Just keep the information coming or you’ll wish we’d never met.”
The man hobbled out of the room before I could ask any more questions. I walked over towards the reception desk where Sergio now had a newspaper open, and was running his finger along the print and mouthing the words he read.
“Hey Serge,” I said, “Do you know that guy?”
“Of course-a,” he said, “He’s a friend of mine.”
“He is? Well, who is he?”
“He’s a the one who pays the bills, anyone who pays the bill, is a friend of Sergio.” He went back to reading his paper.
“One more thing,” I said. Sergio looked up from his newspaper, with a look of annoyance on his face. “Which room am I in?”
nine
I slid the key into the battered, olive green door of number twenty-five and stood in the doorway. The room was as bad as I’d expected - crumpled bed, threadbare carpet, semi-collapsed couch and water-stained floral wallpaper, peeling in places. Still, at least it was a place to get cleaned up and think about my next move.
I stepped into the room and swung the door shut. “Don’t move, mister,” a woman’s voice said from behind me and despite her instruction I swung round. Facing me was a gorgeous brunette in a red dress, a black pillbox hat, and enough makeup to redo the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Oh, and I should also mention, she had a .38 pointed at my head.
“Though you were going to walk out on me, did you? Where were you? With that flapper Nora Edgerton? Or was it Blanche Russo this time or one of your other fancy women? Oh, Johnny, how could you? You know I’m goofy for you.”
“Look lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just put the gun down okay?”
“No idea? Lady? Oh, Johnny quit playing games with me, stop leading me on. I’ve got a good mind to blow my brains out right here, and yours straight after.”
“I don’t think that would be such a good idea, err…miss.”
“Don’t you love me anymore? You don’t, do you?”
“Of course, I do.”
“Say it then.”
“I love you.”
“Say, I love you Alice.”
“I love you Alice.”
“Oh, Johnny,” she said and charged towards me. Alice wrapped me in a crushing embrace and started raining kisses on my face.
“Err, Alice, would you mind not waving that gun around?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry sweetheart. Did I scare you? Did mommy scare her teensy weensy liddle baby boy? You know I’d never hurt you. It’s not even loaded, look.” She pointed the gun into the corner of the room and pulled the trigger. There was an immediate explosion and a chunk of plaster plopped from the wall. “Oops,” Alice giggled, I was sure I took all the bullets out.”
She suddenly noticed that my clothes were damp. “Eww, she said. “You’re all wet. Let’s get you out of those things before you catch your death.”
Despite my protestations Alice soon had my damp clothes balled into a bundle on the floor. She looked me over with a practiced eye and a coy little smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Does little Johnny want a trip to wonderland?” she giggled, and started unbuttoning her dress.
Now, I’d like to tell you that I resisted. That I explained to Alice that I wasn’t really Johnny Black and that I had an important mission to fulfill and didn’t have time for hanky panky with gangster’s molls, especially ones I’d only just met. But the truth is that Alice, eve
n under the gallon of make up she was wearing, was extremely beautiful, and, as my soul had already been condemned to hell I figured, what have I got to lose.
Afterwards, as Alice lay nestling into my chest she said, “I have to see you tonight, Johnny. I’m going to be at the speakeasy. Can you come? Oh, please tell me you’ll come.”
“I’ll come,” I said. She could have asked me to take a dip in Fire Lake right then and I’d probably have been reaching for my trunks. “Which speakeasy again?”
“The usual,” Alice said.
“Which is?”
“Oh, quit kidding you goose. McGinty’s, of course.”
“And where’s that again?”
“Johnny Black, you really are the limit sometimes!”
ten
“Ooh, Johnny Black, you really are the limit sometimes.”
“Who said that?” Alice had left and I was alone in the room, so I had no idea where the voice had come from.
“You really should upgrade to a better class of establishment,” Jitterbug said, seeming to materialize from the wall, “I think I got fungus on my wiener hiding out back there.” He had the floral design of the wallpaper imprinted over his entire body and it now began to fade, revealing that the imp was wearing a suit, a Fedora and tiny two-tone boots on his hooves. He still had his clipboard and his whistle, though.
“Jitterbug! What are you doing here?”
“Keeping an eye on you and seeing a lot more that I bargained for. That was one hotsy totsy dame. You’re a dark horse, Blackwell.”
“Just call me Johnny Black,” I said, “It’s a lot less confusing. And explain to me what the hell you’re doing here spying on me.”
“Not spying, observing.”
“Okay, what the hell are you doing observing me then?”