Black Shadows

by Simon Swift

"George Ferriby, tall blonde, ladies man. He drinks here right?"

  The bartender pursed his lips and then took a long drink of his beer. He looked like he was weighing up his options as he emptied the glass in one go. Finally he said, "He used to but I haven't seen him for weeks."

  "Tell me about him."

  He pulled me another beer and one for himself. This time he only took off the top before talking. "Look fella if you want to know about George Ferriby you're asking the wrong bloke. All I know about him is that he likes a drink and he likes a lady even more. I don't know what he does for a living and I don't care. I don't know where he lives and I don't care. I..."

  "I get the picture."

  The bartender took the note from the bar and put it back in my pocket. "If you're going to act all heavy you might as well get it over with. It won't change nothing though," he said, with a note of resignation in his voice.

  I held out my hand. "The name's Errol Black. I don't do the heavy too well so let's have another beer. What do you say?"

  The bartender laughed a little ha ha laugh and shook my hand. "Pleased to meet ya, Errol, I'm Joseph and I don't mind if I do."

  We talked socially for the next twenty minutes or so. Joseph was a nice guy, the sort that you meet in bars on every block in America. Hard done to, put upon kind of guys who have been dealt a bad deck in life's game. He had worked for twelve hours a day in the same bar doing the same mundane routine for the last nine years. It barely paid the rent. We talked about the forthcoming season and the chances of another Super bowl coming to the Empire State. He had to spend more time serving as the bar busied up but whenever he got a spare moment would come back and talk to me.

  "You know, there is a guy who may be able to help you. Goes by the name of Jeff. Never did really warm to him but I did see him with Ferriby once in a while."

  That caught my attention.

  "Today's Saturday, right?"

  "Right."

  "I think maybe he usually comes by on a Saturday. Do you want me to give you the nod if he comes in?"

  "That would be swell Joseph." I pulled out the five note and tucked it in his pocket. "A thank you, please keep it."

  He smiled and walked over to serve another customer.

  Two hours later I had learned very little else about Ferriby. Most punters were reluctant to talk but I got the impression that most simply didn't know anything about him. Nobody knew where he lived, the best I got was, "I think he lives with his girls." and he was interested in racing, but then so was half of America. So I was mighty relieved when a small, heavily built man with a shiny bald head strolled into the bar and ordered a drink. Joseph poured him a gin and tonic and gave me a barely visible nod.

  The small guy said something to Joseph and he laughed. He said something back and nodded towards me just as I headed over. The small guy looked around and his eyes met mine. They were full of anger and fear. He picked up the glass, tossed it in my direction and ran out of the joint.

  "I'm sorry Errol, all I said was that you wanted a word."

  I didn't reply. I was half way down the street chasing the fleeing G and T drinker. He was a fast runner for a small guy and he made me feel unfit as he started to pull away from me. We were heading down Fifth and whenever he passed a mobile newspaper stand or a hot dog seller, he tipped it all over and into my path. It was designed to slow me down and it worked. He needn't have bothered I doubt whether I would have caught him anyway.

  We ran and ran and ran. Although he was widening the gap between us I just about managed to keep him in my sights. I considered pulling my gun and shouting at him to stop but it was highly unlikely he would take any notice and then what would I do? Shooting him in the back would not get me any information of Ferriby and would most likely land me in jail.

  He turned a corner and disappeared down a side street. When I caught up he was gone. I found myself on a small side-street with a couple of closed shops and a private member's club. The street was empty. Not a single person was around. I tried the shops, rattling on the doors but there was no answer. I quickly weighed up my options and entered the club.

  I was met by a burly doorman, who smiled and asked politely to see my membership card. I smiled and showed him my Private Investigator’s license explaining that I was on urgent business. He shrugged, never losing his smile for a second and the shook his head.

  "I need to see a membership card. Without it you don't enter. I'm sorry."

  I rubbed my chin and decided to ask him about the bald man. He again shook his head and then repeated himself. Time was moving on and I was losing my patience so I tried bribing him and when he shook his head for a third time I knocked him out with a right uppercut and strolled on in.

  Inside the club I passed quickly by the receptionist, declining to hang up my coat and headed on in to the club. It was comprised of a large lounge bar area downstairs and a fitness center on the first floor complete with spa, sauna and gymnasium. I took a drink from a passing waitress and scanned the bar area. There was nobody resembling the bald man and so I quickly drained the glass and headed upstairs.

  I narrowly avoided the rather annoyed looking doorman and a couple of his colleagues in the locker room. I ducked behind a six-foot cheese plant as he rushed by. There was an old man with a full head of white hair and a shiny tracksuit combing his hair. He smiled a toothy smile at me.

  "Have you forgotten your kit young man?" he asked in a cultured, European voice, nodding at my empty hands.

  Before I could answer he let out a laugh. "Or are you another bloody vandal, come to steal from our lockers?"

  "What do you mean?" I asked.

  "Just now," he replied, "some fuckin' hophead. Burst in here, not unlike yourself, sweating like he'd done an hour on the treadmill. Knocked me right off my feet and instead of apologizing and helping me back up he headed for the lockers."

  "This man...bald, about five foot two, red shirt?"

  The old man smiled again. "That's the one. Friend of yours is he?"

  "On the contrary," I said and pulled out my PI license, holding it not quite open right in the old man's face before quickly tucking it away. "I am a Federal Officer. I am investigating a man of the name of George Ferriby. I believe that the man you have just described is a vital witness to my investigation."

  The man stood upright and held out a hand. I shook it and he looked proud. "If there is anything I can do for you, sir, you just ask. I fought for this great country and I will do anything to help. Especially in the apprehension of lowlifes like Ferriby."

  I looked shocked. I couldn't help it. "You know Ferriby?" I asked.

  "Oh yes. The man is a lowlife and a scumbag. He runs illegal rackets for a sideline and he deals in illegal, knock off gear. On his evenings he goes to bars and he chats up young ladies, the younger the better and he takes them back to their flats and he fucks them. But before he fucks them he empties their purses and then he leaves them. Oh yes he's a really nasty piece of work is Ferriby. He acts like he owns this place, strutting round in his flashy suits, bragging about the pussy he has scored. There's a name for guys like Ferriby."

  "There is?"

  "Cunthounds, that's what we used to call them in the war."

  "When did you last see him?" I asked.

  "He hasn't been here for a couple of weeks. I hoped he was gone, long gone but he still keeps a locker."

  "He does?"

  "Yes, that's the one that hophead was trying to break into just now. Look, I'll show you."

  He walked to the end of a long row of lockers and fingered one, number 21A. There were scratch marks along the edge of door and around the lock. I inspected it closely, examining the small key hole, and was satisfied that the bald man must have been interrupted. There was little damage done and with the right key it would be no problem opening the locker. My mind was wandering when the old man once again brought me back to earth.

  "He took me to his lock up once you know."

  That certai
nly got my attention. I sat down and the old man did the same. There was nobody else in the locker room.

  "It was full of worthless pieces of junk. Paintings that were supposed to be originals, jewelry that was nothing better than seaside tat and piles and piles of designer clothes. I did find a nice pair of brogues though and this," he pushed his sleeve up and showed me a chunky timepiece. It was Rolex and tackier than a weekend in Vegas.

  "Where? I need to know where the lock up is and anything else you can tell me about Ferriby."

  The old man smiled. "I'm sorry young man," he said, "Georgie Ferriby never told anybody where he lived. Sometimes I doubted he had a home, he slept with that many women I guess he just lived with them. Probably fuckin' ponced his way through life."

  "What about the lock up? Where is the lock up?"

  "Don't know that either. You got to understand fella. George Ferriby is not your average lowlife. He lives in a constant state of paranoia and by the looks of it, it is well justified. He don't like to take nobody to his lock up. He always brings the gear to you, but with me he made an exception. I guess he thought I was just some harmless old soak. Nothing to worry about with old Arthur. Still he blindfolded me all the same."

  "He blindfolded you?"

  Arthur grinned a wicked grin and tapped the side of his nose with a crooked old finger.

  "Couldn't fool old Arthur though. You see he didn't reckon on my ability to observe. You don't survive the Great War and three years in a cold, smelly old trench without developing a good sense of direction."

  "Look Arthur, I would love to stand and chat with you," I said, a little exasperation creeping into my voice, "But I am a very busy man."

  "You want to know where the lock up is?"

  I nodded.

  "Well, like I said, I was blindfolded but I am no fool. I may be old but I got good ears and I know how to use 'em."

  I waited.

  "I can't be certain but if I was a betting man, I'd say it is somewhere along the boardwalk. I could hear the old roller coaster see," he chuckled. "That old roller coaster is unmistakable. The wind was in my face so I guess it was on the East side, probably one of them wooden shacks that lines the whole drag." He smiled. "You knows where I'm talking about don't you?" and stood up. "Now I have to go. Good luck young man."

  I watched him leave the locker room and fumbled in my pocket. There was still nobody else in the room so I put the key in the lock and turned. The door swung open and a wide grin filled my face.

  Inside the locker, I found a small sports bag. I lifted the bag out of the locker and placed it on the bench at my side. My heart was beating quicker and quicker and I felt a little light headed as I unzipped the bag. It almost leapt out of my chest as I found my hands running over the cold, metallic surface of a revolver. Next to the gun was a wallet. I inspected it and found five thousand dollars in used notes and nothing else. I didn't need anything else; I already knew who it had belonged to. It was the wallet of the late Liam Tighe. I knew that because I had bought it for him.

  Hermeez checked in at Joe's ten minutes before I did. I was calling from a public booth and was dripping from the early morning rainfall. Joe told me the same as he told my buddy, that Audrey Daniels had been sniffing around the diner. He had got short shrift from the regulars and Joe told me he had been tempted to give the kid a good beating. I was pleased he hadn't. If Daniels was back, it meant that I was still in demand and if anyone was going to give him a beating it would be me.

  I met Hermeez for breakfast six hours later, after a fitful nights sleep on the hard boards of Claudia Cortene's old pad. My back was sore but I was feeling happy. I was anxious to share what I had learned with my partner and keen to hear just what he had discovered. I was sure the case was coming close to a conclusion but would never have guessed the twists that still awaited me.

  Hermeez looked as dapper as ever. He was clean-shaven and wearing an immaculate beige suit, with black waistcoat and short fedora with a goose feather in the belt. He got to his feet as I arrived and smiled a warm smile before pouring me a cup of strong coffee and handing me the tray of freshly buttered toast.

  We talked briefly for a few moments but it was clear to the both of us that we were anxious to get down to business. Hermeez looked as excited as I felt even if he did keep it under a veneer of cool.

  "You haven't spoken to Ava this morning?" he asked dabbing the corners of his mouth with a perfectly folded napkin.

  I shook my head. "Is it about the diamond? Has she found out something?"

  "No, not yet. She did take a telephone call from your friend though, the delectable Claudia Cortene."

  I involuntarily raised my eyebrows. "She did?"

  "Yeah, they're going for lunch today. Ava said that Claudia wants to meet up with you again. How are you fixed for dinner?"

  I shrugged. "I don't know that that's a good idea. Getting mixed up with gangsters and their families is not always a good idea."

  "It's never bothered you before."

  I smiled. "You're right and I may have to speak to her again anyway."

  Now Hermeez smiled. "When you hear what I have to tell you, you will definitely have to talk to her."

  There was a short silence whilst we drank our coffee and munched our toast. I refilled both cups and decided that I would beat my friend to the punch.

  "Liam Tighe is dead."

  "You know?"

  "Yup, and I know who killed him."

  Hermeez laughed out loud. "You lousy son of a bitch. I get dressed up all smart to come and show off my detective skills and you piss all over my breakfast. Put your tail away and tell me about it."

  I did.

  Hermeez told me his side of the story when I had finished. Ava had come up trumps with the times I had given her yesterday. They had turned out to be flight times to Mexico, not Argentina. Tijuana to be exact and Liam Tighe was a passenger several times over the last twelve months. So was George Ferriby but Hermeez had not seen the significance of that until I told him my story.

  Once he had located Liam in TJ, Hermeez had called up a few of his contacts and found out plenty. Liam had a pad down there, quite a palatial pad and had been living there quite openly. He was well liked and played quite a part in the local economy, sponsoring the schools and throwing money at numerous community projects. He was still overheard to espouse racist and prejudicial views but happily frequented the Hispanic hotels and was even dating a black girl for a while. This happy existence had all come to a sudden end only one week ago when his house was burned to the ground and everything in it perished including his life. He had been identified from a collection of bones and a period of mourning was underway.

  Hermeez told me he had planned to go down and do some more investigating but now he wasn't so sure. I told him he should.

  "Joe told you that Daniels is back. I think maybe I should stick around, you may need me here with you."

  "I'll be fine," I said. "They won't try anything again, not yet. And when they do I want to have something to bargain with."

  "The diamond?"

  "Exactly."

  Hermeez sighed. "But it looks like Ferriby is a better bet than Liam. I could go all the way to TJ and the diamond could be right here in New York. No, I think we need to find Ferriby and then we'll find the diamond."

  "You're right. Tell Ava I will meet Claudia. I need to tell her about Liam and maybe see if I can pump her for a bit more on Ferriby."

  But all I really wanted to do was see her beautiful face again. The very prospect made me feel lightheaded and dizzy. It was a feeling I was uncomfortable with but a pleasurable one. Ever since she had kissed me with so much passion and verve before walking out of my life, seemingly forever, I had been unable to get her out of my mind. I would now relish the opportunity to meet her again although the same problems would exist. Stan Cortene was a man I did not want to cross and I would have to tread very carefully indeed.

  Chapter Nineteen – Benjamin Wilson
r />   As it happened, there was soon to be another reason for Claudia Cortene to come back into my life. Hermeez always told me that most cases require a good deal of luck. Either luck or good fortune, which was largely the same thing. Tenacity and skill are essential requirements but it is luck that it the real vital ingredient. Our piece of luck arrived in the form of a sweating, rather frightened, yet very proud shape of Benjamin Wilson. I was waiting for him in my temporary office in the back room of Joe's Diner.

  Mr. Benjamin Wilson was a slightly built man of medium height. He had black, glossy hair smoothed back. Wearing a black cravat with yellow flashes and holding a derby hat in his pink-gloved hands.

  I followed him into the office and sat at my chair, lighting up a Lucky. "Please sit down, Mr. Wilson."

  Wilson bowed like a prince over his hat, said, "Thank you, Mr. Black," in a nervous, high-pitched voice and duly sat down. He sat up straight with his hat and his gloves placed neatly on his knees.

  I inhaled deeply before blowing out a stream of smoke above my head and asked: "Now what is it I can do for you Mr. Wilson? And may I ask, what are the serious consequences of me not doing it for you?" I asked with equal nonchalance.

  He rubbed his palms together and began: "I do not wish to start our acquaintance off on a confrontational manner, Mr. Black."

  He paused and smiled. "Maybe I was a little curt with your dear secretary." His voice was at almost a whisper and I noticed his hand shaking... "I was simply anxious to talk to your good person and it appeared time was running out fast with no sign of your return."

  He shuffled a little in his chair, opting to move his hat and gloves onto the edge of the desk nearest to him. "I trust you underwent a satisfactory journey?"

  I said nothing, eyeballing him throughout. It was clear this man was extremely nervous, but I was unsure just why. Again he attempted at pleasantries.

  "Anyway you are back now, and may I say just what a pleasure it is to finally meet the great Errol Black."

  I nodded in acknowledgment, making sure not to smile and display any more warmth than was required.