by John Misak
“My favorite nephew, how are you?”
“I’m fine, but a little tangled.”
He knew what that meant. He was the one who taught me that line.
“Yeah, it happens often. I had a feeling.”
“I just need to run a few things by you.”
“Sure. Remember the last place I saw you?”
I did. It was a steakhouse in the twenties. Angelo and Maxie’s.
“Yes.”
“Meet me there by four.”
“I will.”
I hung up the phone and made my way toward Manhattan. I felt a little better because, if nothing else, I was going to give as much hell as I received.
I had a few hours to kill before I had to meet my uncle, so I went to my apartment to pick up a few things. One of the things was a gun that I hadn’t given to the guy the night before. It was a small Walther PPK 380. It fit in the back of my jeans nicely. Yeah, I was breaking the law by carrying a gun that wasn’t registered, but I didn’t feel comfortable not carrying one.
I scanned the apartment. Part of me thought that maybe someone had been there, but I was just spooked. I didn’t trust anything or anyone. Nothing looked like it was touched. But, of course, I couldn’t be sure. I didn’t like the fact that I didn’t feel safe in my own home. I felt violated.
The restaurant, on the corner of 21st was packed as usual for a Friday. It was a place I went to fairly often. I liked it because the food was good, the prices were decent for a city joint, and there were always a ton of women there. It was new, but it had a sort of old feeling to it, like Smith and Wolensky. The place was decorated in wood, and was dark. As soon as you walk in, you see the main bar. There were about thirty people standing around it, more than half of them female. I smiled at a few, and made my way through the restaurant, into the glass-enclosed smoking area.
The smoking area attracted all the cigar smokers, and the air was stale with that smell. Four men were seated at the bar, which was on the right, and two of the eight tables were occupied. I sat at the bar, and the bartender came over to me.
“What can I get you?”
“Scotch on the rocks,” I said, “Johnnie Black.”
He grabbed the bottle, poured my drink, and handed it to me. It was a large glass, about twice the size of the average rocks glass. The last time I was there, I had four drinks and had problems speaking my name.
I placed a twenty on the bar, and he gave me my change, nine bucks. I know I said the prices were reasonable, but I meant the steaks. Any place in the city of any status charged double figures for a drink.
I took a sip, and it burned. I hadn’t drank scotch in a while. I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, which was near empty, and the bartender was quick with the lighter. I inhaled this cigarette deeply, to get the smell of cigars out of my nose. I hated cigars, and I hated the fact that it was cool to smoke them.
I waited about fifteen minutes for my uncle to show up. He walked in the room, dressed in his usual brown suit and tan raincoat. He smiled when he saw me at the bar.
“Just where I expected to find you,” he said, taking a seat next to me.
I shook his hand. “Can I get you something?”
“Citron on the rocks.”
I didn’t even have to tell the bartender. He poured the drink, and placed it in front of Uncle Paul. I handed him another twenty, and he brought back the same change. What a guy.
“How are things?” I asked Paul.
“Busy, as usual. Working on a couple of big things.”
I knew not to ask him about it.
“How are your parents,” he asked. Uncle Paul was my mother’s other brother, the one who did things right. He didn’t talk to the drunken Uncle Ralph, and from my experience, he never mentioned his younger brother either.
“I saw them today. They’re doing well.”
“Your sister’s still living there, right?”
I nodded.
“Your father must be banging his head against the wall.” Uncle Paul took out a pack of cigarettes, Marlboro’s, and lit one. I was happy he had smokes on him.
“He’s dealing with it.”
“I know what you mean.”
“It’s tough on all of them.”
“It has to be. Hopefully they get back on their feet and make everything easier for everybody.”
“Yeah.”
I finished my drink and ordered another. Before I had a chance to pay, Uncle Paul beat me to it.
“Thanks,” I said.
“What, you think I’m gonna let some young blood like you pay for all the drinks?”
I took a sip of the drink, and looked around the bar. A couple of women walked in, about 35, with blonde hair and dressed up in their Donna Karen outfits.
“Nice specimens,” Uncle Paul said. He had never married, and I think that was why we got along so well. We both were incapable of such a thing. I wished I could see him more, but we both were so busy, it just didn’t happen.
“Why don’t we get a table, so we can talk?”
“Good idea,” I said. I turned to the bartender. “We’d like a table.”
“Pick any one you want.”
We walked to the far left corner, and sat down. There were two pillars around the table, so we had a good deal of privacy. I scanned the names on the cigar humidors on the wall and found Don Mattingly’s name. I wondered how often he frequented the place since his retirement. They probably just kept his name up there for stature.
“So,” Uncle Paulie said, “what’s going on?”
“I’m in a mess. A big mess.”
“I figured that.”
“You know what’s going on?”
“Not really, but I have heard whispers.”
I told him the story about how I was busted, and how they took me down to the station and tried to get information from me. He listened to everything I said without saying anything, just nodding and shaking his head when it was appropriate. When I was done, he looked me straight in the eyes.
“Listen, you are my nephew, my family, so don’t be offended by what I am about to ask you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Are you guilty?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay. I just needed to hear you say that. Now, what is it you want me to help you with?”
“What do you know about Harold Chapman, from Techdata?” “Well, after I heard you were on the case, I did a little investigating into him. The FBI has been looking at him for quite some time. They originally suspected him of being involved in some junk bond schemes, but they never could pin anything on him.”
“Doesn’t surprise me that he’d be involved in such a thing.” “I’m sure he was, but they never got any hard evidence on him.”
“Now, this Mullins guy, he was the one that was going to run for Senate, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“Okay, then this gets interesting.”
For some reason, I hated the word interesting then. Any time something got interesting, it meant trouble for me.
“Why do you say that?” I asked.
“Well, the FBI just recently became interested in Harold Chapman again. Actually, they were investigating Techdata itself, but they suspected Chapman above all others.”
“For what?”
“Illegal campaign contributions.” He paused. “For US Senators.”
It took a moment to set in. “What?”
“You heard me right.”
“That isn’t a coincidence.”
“I would think not. This fit in at all with what you were investigating?”
“Well, I don’t know about that. But it sure seems to.”
“I thought it would. Being that his partner was planning to run.
“I see that, but I’m not sure it really applies.” I took a sip of my drink. “Okay, so let’s assume that Chapman is illegally giving money to campaigns. He gives money to Senators so they look the other way for certain things.
As much as I hate to admit it, that’s pretty much business as usual.”
“It is.”
“Okay. So now, Mullins decides to run for Senate. What would cause Chapman to want him killed, if we are going to stretch it to that point?”
Uncle Paul smiled. “You’re overlooking one major thing.”
“What’s that?”
“When someone runs for public office, especially on a national level, what’s the first thing the opposition does?”
I didn’t get it, so I shrugged.
“Think. They dig up dirt. They go into the person’s past and go over every detail until they find something that they can use. If Mullins was going to announce his candidacy, then his opposition was certainly going to take a close look at Techdata, and if they did that, they might have found what Chapman was doing.”
“But wouldn’t that put them at risk, especially if Chapman had donated to their campaigns, their party’s even?”
“It doesn’t work that way. All they would have to do is bring that up, and Chapman would be exposed. He wasn’t thinking about what the dirt diggers were going to do, he was worried about getting caught.”
“So you think he offed Mullins for wanting to run for Senate?” “He might have.”
“It just doesn’t sit with me well. Chapman seems like the kind of guy who would have those bases covered.”
“Maybe he did, and maybe there’s something that we don’t know about yet that pulls this all together.”
I tried to think about what that was. While I was doing that, I looked up at the pictures on the wall of cows. Happy pictures of cows playing golf, cows having a barbecue, and stuff like that. At that moment, they seemed ridiculous to me. What the Hell would cows be doing having barbecue? Cooking their relatives?
I laughed.
“What?” Uncle Paul asked.
“Nothing. I think I am getting delirious.”
“It happens.”
The waiter came over and we ordered. Uncle Paul got the Porterhouse and I got the Prime Rib. We ordered garlic mashed potatoes and sauteed mushrooms on the side, and a dozen raw oysters for an appetizer, if you really care. The waiter walked away, and Uncle Paul looked at me again.
“You know, they went after you to shut down the investigation. They are going to try to pin this on the wife, or they might just let it rest as a suicide.”
“I don’t think they can do that. We uncovered a few things that prove that to be wrong.”
He shook his head. “They could squash that in a second. The real question is, do you think the woman is capable of doing such a thing.”
“You think she was in on it with Chapman?”
“Very possible. What do you know about her situation?”
I told Uncle Paul about the terms of the will, where Sondra was at the time of the killing, and the deal with the insurance.
“The insurance thing could just be something to throw you off. After all, what could she get from the insurance company? Five million, maybe? That’s nothing compared to what she’ll get from the buyout, which I am sure will happen. That malarkey about waiting to see what her son wants was just to throw you off too.” “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“Well, do you think she is capable?”
“Anything’s possible,” I said, for lack of anything better to say. I found myself in that situation a lot.
“That’s good that you can see that. Anything is possible, and you better consider all options before coming to a conclusion about anything tied to this case. You are talking about people who have a lot of money, and who will use that money to get what they want and to keep themselves from going to prison.”
“You think the people in the precinct were bought?”
“Not the lower guys. But definitely the higher-ups.”
Agnelli, I thought.
“I believe that.”
“Who do you think is setting you up?”
I told him what I thought about Agnelli and Rick. I didn’t mention Geiger, only because I hadn’t come to any real conclusions about him.
“It’s possible Agnelli is involved, but understand, he has the most to lose. Have you talked to him directly?”
“Just when the case first began.”
“Who is the one that fed you information about him?”
“My direct superior.”
“Who is that?”
“Deputy Inspector Geiger,” I said.
“What do you know about him?”
“Stand-up guy from what I can tell.”
“Well, it’s possible, likely even, that they didn’t get to him. But he should have been able to sniff some of this out,” Uncle Paul said.
“He wants to talk to me.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one, he hates Agnelli. I’d have a hard time believing he was in cahoots with him.” I said. It didn’t sound like the best defense, but it made sense to me.
“Okay. But remember money makes for strange partnerships.” “I’m beginning to see that.” I took another sip of my drink, finishing it.
“You better take it easy on that stuff. It’ll cloud your mind,” Uncle Paul said.
“I think I need that. What I went through last night was humiliating.”
“I can’t even imagine. They stripped you of your pride.”
“They did. That’s exactly what they did.” I noticed I was slurring my words a bit, and decided not to order any more drinks. Uncle Paul was right, I needed my wits about me.
“I know it was tough on you, Johnny, but you can’t go out and try and get back at them. The best thing you can do is get to the bottom of all of this, and clear your name. Anything else is unnecessary.”
“I’d really like to hang this Chapman guy by his balls.”
“I’m sure you would. But guys like him are slippery. He’s a pro at this sort of thing.”
“And I’m a pro at what I do. Doesn’t that count for anything?” “Only if you apply it correctly. You’ve got to gather evidence, and nail them. It’s all you can do.”
The waiter came over with the oysters. They were slimy, and damn good. We ate for a few moments in silence, and I continued to seethe, thinking about how I got taken. I knew Uncle Paul was right, but knowing that didn’t calm my temper. Not one bit.
After we finished, Uncle Paul ordered another drink, and I ordered a soda. The drinks came, and we both lit a cigarette.
“I want to help you. I just need to know what you want me to do.”
“Well, you say I should gather information and nail them, right?” I asked.
“That would be the best thing.”
“Well, I need you to research deeper into the FBI files and see what they have on Chapman. That might prove useful to me. Then, I need to find out who Mullins’ opposition would be.”
“That’s easy. The mayor was also planning on running for the vacant seat.”
The mayor? I hadn’t even thought of him. He and Agnelli were tight, and it didn’t seem to be too much of a stretch to think that Agnelli wanted the case closed down to protect the Mayor.
“You know Agnelli and the mayor are tight.”
“I do.”
“Then there is the link we were looking for,” I said. I looked around the restaurant and caught the eye of one of the women at the bar. She smiled at me but, for what had to be the first time in my life, I wasn’t interested in women. I made a mental note to go have my head checked.
“Maybe.”
“Okay. I’ll also need to do a bit of surveillance. I want to follow Agnelli and Chapman. If I find that either one is going to see the other, then I might have something.”
“You might.”
“Can you get me some equipment?”
“I’ll try. I can’t promise anything, but I certainly will try.”
“Do you think the FBI would be interested in what I am doing?”
He smiled. “You are a smart k
id. Of course they would be, and I’ll speak to Rob Milfin who heads that department in the city when I get back to the office. I can’t say that he’ll want to get involved directly, but you might just have something there.”
“Okay.”
The waiter came with the main courses. The steaks smelled great. I dug in. It was like butter. Of course, Rick would have had something to say about how bad steak was for you, but I didn’t care. I savored each forkful like a prisoner eating his first meal after being released. That analogy hit me right there, actually, because it was almost too appropriate.
“Whatever you do, John, you have to cover your tracks,” Uncle Paul said, seemingly out of nowhere.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re gonna have to make sure no one catches you. It could get the both of us in a lot of trouble.”
“I understand.”
“I know you do. I just wanted to remind of that one more time.” He motioned with his hand. “Let me see your cell phone.” I handed it to him. “Yep, no good. They most certainly are tracking you with this thing.” He reached into his coat pocket. “Take this one, just don’t fucking lose it.”
“Don’t you need it?”
He shook his head. “I have two. And besides, I’m not the one that has to worry about being traced.”
“What should I do with mine?”
“Keep it. Just don’t leave it turned on. This way, people will get your voice mail, and they won’t think that you aren’t using it. After a couple of days, they might catch on, but at least it will give you some freedom. And with mine, you’ll be able to make calls without being traced.” He took out a piece of paper and a pen and jotted two numbers down. “The top number is the number of that phone, the bottom is my other one. Be careful who you give that top number out to. Make sure it is only people you absolutely trust.” That meant no one. “Which probably means no one, right now.”
I nodded.
“Just be careful, okay? You know I have no trouble helping you, just don’t make me throw away my pension.”
We laughed and finished our meal. There was really nothing important left to say. Uncle Paul would try and get me some surveillance equipment and see if that Milfin guy could help me, possibly by taking up his own investigation. I didn’t count on that, but I hoped for it. I couldn’t do this alone.