Unremarkable

by Geoff Habiger

  “Your girlfriend is—” Agent Wright started to say something, but Truesdale cut him off with a cough, or maybe it was a growl.

  “So your sayin’ that you don’t know where she lives?” Truesdale asked.

  “No,” I looked at him. “Although maybe I should ask you, since you seem to know everything.”

  “Oh, we know a lot of shit.” Truesdale groused. “Knowing stuff about you has been child’s play. It’s been great training for Agent Wright, here, though it hasn’t been very difficult. A troop of blind Boy Scouts could follow your ass around this city. But your girlfriend is an enigma.” He stressed the E, drawing it out. “It’s as if she can disappear at will. Nobody can ever seem to recall seeing her, even those people who have spent an entire evening with her. She’s the fucking invisible woman.”

  I could almost sympathize with Agent Truesdale. Since I’d started dating Moira she’d always come to me for our dates. She’d always suggested where we went and what we did. I said, “Then why the fuck don’t you believe me? I don’t know where in the hell she is.”

  “Maybe you should try looking there,” Agent Wright said under his breath, though I still heard it. I looked toward Agent Wright to ask him what he meant, but I was pushed back in the seat as he accelerated the car with a lurch.

  “I do believe you, Saul” Truesdale said, actually sounding like he meant it. “I just want to make sure that you understand just how important finding your girlfriend is to us.”

  “But why?” I asked.

  “You don’t need to know why,” Truesdale growled. “Just make sure that you find her. And when you do, we had better be the first ones that you call.”

  The car pulled to a stop with a stutter and cough. The engine died as Agent Wright forgot to put in the clutch. I glanced out and noticed that we had stopped outside the Post Office.

  “We need you to help us,” Agent Wright said from the front. “And we are trying to help you.”

  I opened the car door and got out. “You could have fooled me.”

  Chapter 18

  I don’t really recall what happened at work that night. I’m sure that I sorted some mail—that was my job, after all. I think Joe was his usual self. He tried to tell me that he and Francine had gone out Saturday night. Since I had run into Francine at the diner Sunday morning and she hadn’t said anything, I figured that he was lying. I really didn’t care though, so I didn’t call Joe out on his fantasy life.

  I spent almost the entire shift brooding over my failure to find Moira. I couldn’t protect myself or my parents if I couldn’t find her.

  I blew off Joe after our shift. I wasn’t in the mood to watch his feeble attempts to try to woo Francine. If Joe was upset that I was running off again, I didn’t care. I headed out into the cold morning, fresh snow covering the ground. I’m sure that to some people it looked pretty. It just made my feet cold.

  I walked to the L station and climbed up to the platform where I caught the train. As I rode the L, I watched the city pass by—city buses, taxies, and people heading to work this Monday morning were quickly turning the snow to grey mush. The sky was a thick overcast, the grey clouds fitting my mood. It was a depressing start to the work week.

  I got off the L and walked up the street to my apartment. I should have stopped at the bakery for some bagels or something to eat, but I didn’t really care if I ate or not. I trudged up the stairs, hoping that Mrs. Rabinowitz would not pick this morning to be nosy. I tip-toed past her door, and luck seemed to be on my side as her door stayed closed. I continued up to my apartment and unlocked the door.

  “Hey, Saul.”

  I almost jumped out of my skin at her appearance in my apartment. Moira was sitting at my kitchen table, a mug of coffee in her hands. She was wearing brown pants and a light blue shirt with a white sweater. A blue hat sat on the table. I finally recovered from my shock and shut the door.

  “Where the fuck have you been?” I asked. I took off my coat and sat down at the table.

  “Watch your language, Saul. What would your mother say?”

  I ignored her. “I’ve been looking all over town for you.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Saul,” Moira patted my hand. “But you don’t need to go looking for me; I’ll be there when you need me.”

  “But why did you leave Saturday morning? Where did you go?”

  “I went out,” she said. Her voice had a slight edge to it, but that wasn’t going to stop me from getting some answers.

  “Out where? Why did you leave?”

  “I just had to go out, okay, Saul? Don’t worry about it. It’s none of your business.”

  Her voice had a definite edge to it now, so I dropped it. “But the Feds showed up. They told me that I had to find you and bring you to them. Why do the Feds want you?”

  “I know they were here.” She pulled out the note that I had crumpled up and tossed into the sink and flattened it out on the table. “They aren’t important.”

  “Not important!” I practically yelled. “One of them gave me this,” I pointed to the shiner I still had on my face. “And gut punched me last night as well. If I don’t give you to them then my parents are dead and I’m dead because they have the books Moran wants.”

  “Wait,” she held up a hand and glared at me with those pretty green eyes of hers. “You went to see Moran?”

  “It’s not like I had any choice in the matter,” I said. “He sent two of his thugs to bring me to him Friday morning. He told me about some raid the cops made on Ralph Capone’s place, and that they had found some books that showed Capone’s finances. He also told me that Capone was going to try to use me to get the books. Moran told me to get the books for him, and my Dad told me some Northsider goons were sniffing around the packing plant asking about him.”

  Moira sat quietly for a minute. Finally, she said, “It still doesn’t matter.”

  I was about to protest, but she gave me a look that stopped my comment in my throat.

  “Put your coat back on, Saul. I need to take you to meet somebody.”

  “But what about the Feds? They’ve been watching me like a hawk. If they find out that I saw you and didn’t tell them, they’re gonna get pissed. Besides, if we go talk to them, maybe we can get this all sorted out. Everything will be fine.”

  “Forget about the Feds,” Moira said as she stood up. “I told you they don’t matter.”

  She seemed so unlike her normal self. She wasn’t as outgoing as she normally was. It was like she was acting mechanically, like she’d been told to do something distasteful.

  “But if we go see the Feds we can get this straightened out and my folks won’t get killed by Moran.” I continued to sit and stared up at Moira. I was being stubborn about this, but I was tired and I still felt that getting Moira to the Feds was the best option to get me out of this horrible situation.

  “Look, Saul,” Moira sighed. “I know that you think that you’re doing the right thing, but you’re not. We can’t let the Feds get involved. Now get your coat on, sweetie.” She leaned down and gave me a slow kiss.

  As she pulled back, she gave me a sweet, almost sad smile and looked at me with wide eyes. I didn’t want to make her upset, so I grabbed my coat and put it back on. I didn’t understand how seeing the Feds was wrong, and I really wanted to call Agent Truesdale, but I guess that would have to wait. Maybe if I went with Moira now she’d agree to go with me to see Agent Truesdale later.

  We walked downstairs and passed Mrs. Rabinowitz coming up the stairs carrying a basket with some bread and sausage in it. She was about to say something, but a glance from Moira shut her up before she could even speak. Seeing Mrs. R silenced was a first. I gave her a weak smile and a little wave as we passed.

  Outside, we walked up the street to West Chicago Avenue. There, Moira hailed a cab, which pulled to a stop in the wet slush in front of us.
Moira and I climbed into the back.

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked.

  “7244 South Prairie Avenue,” Moira said.

  Chapter 19

  I wasn’t sure why the cabbie’s eyes widened when Moira gave him the address, but it must not have been all that important since he pulled the cab into traffic and headed south.

  Turning to look at Moira, I asked, “Who are you taking me to see?”

  “Not here,” Moira replied. “I’ll tell you when we get there.”

  “Why can’t you tell me now?” I insisted. Yeah—it was starting to become a habit of mine. “We need to talk about how we’ll handle the Feds.”

  “Shhh,” Moira put her hand to my mouth to silence me. “I told you earlier they aren’t important. Just sit still and be quiet.”

  I turned to face the front of the cab and shut up. I obviously wasn’t going to get any answers from her while we were in the cab. We drove south and I watched the traffic and people heading to work, or wherever it was that people went at 9 o’clock in the morning.

  I turned back to look at Moira. The gray light of the morning seemed to make her look even more pale and ashen than normal, but she was still striking. Her face was sharp and angular with a slightly upturned nose. Her eyelashes were long and dark and complemented her dark green eyes. I know it sounds silly, but while I adored her and would do anything for her, I was conflicted between my desire to protect Moira from what was happening to me and my natural instinct to protect my parents.

  I must have been staring at Moira for a couple of blocks. She finally noticed and stared back at me. Her gaze was penetrating, intimidating, and predatory. She looked like a cat about to pounce, although her gaze reminded me more of a snake in the way that she stared and didn’t blink at all. A shiver ran up my spine and I went back to looking out of the cab’s window. We were passing Washington Park, the ground covered under the fresh snow from last night and as yet unspoiled by any footprints.

  I wanted to reach over and hold Moira’s hand. Hell, I wanted her to reach over and hold my hand. I knew she’d never do the latter, and if I tried the former right now I was afraid that she’d bite it off. The cab hit a pothole and the bounce of the car shot a wave of pain through the wound in my stomach. I had hoped that it would have healed by now, but it was still lingering.

  We turned a few more times and the cab pulled up to the curb and stopped. “Here ya go, lady,” the cabby said.

  I got out of the cab and looked around. It was a nice looking neighborhood. Most of the houses were single-story homes, with small lawns and a few trees that were covered in snow. Set between two of these small homes was a two-story red brick house. It had a wide set of steps on the right side of the house that led up to a porch and the front door. Above the front porch was an open balcony. Three tall bay windows were set in the wall to the left, a matching set on each story.

  Moira got out and said something to the cabbie. The engine shut off, so she must have told him to wait. She crossed the street and headed up the walk to the house. The sidewalk had been shoveled, the snow neatly piled to the right of the walk. I hurried to follow her, calling out, “Okay, we’re here. You can tell me your big secret now.”

  Climbing the stairs to the porch Moira ignored me and knocked twice on the door. It was quickly opened by a young man in a loose-fitting coat, white shirt, and tie. He nodded to Moira as if he knew her, but didn’t say anything. He turned and led us through the entryway, down a narrow hall, and to a large wooden door. The house was nicely decorated and, although I’m no judge of art, I expected that the pieces hanging on the walls and the furniture that I could see were all worth a lot of money. I also saw a couple of other men in the house who were dressed like our unlikely butler. I was starting to get a little worried, who’s house is this?

  The man left us and headed back to the front of the house. I started to ask Moira what the hell was going on, but the words died in my throat as she gave me a stern glare. Moira waited a moment, and she took a deep breath before she knocked on the door. I heard a muffled voice say, “Come in” from the space beyond. Moira opened the door and she led me inside.

  I stopped in my tracks and stared, and I’m sure that my mouth fell open. The man himself, Al Capone, was sitting behind a large desk.

  “Please come in, Mr. Imbierowicz,” Capone said.

  Chapter 20

  I don’t know anybody who lives in Chicago that wouldn’t recognize Al Capone. He sat behind a large mahogany desk, the morning papers laid out neatly on the desk top, a coffee cup sitting next to the papers. A green-shaded desk lamp cast a bright light across the headlines. A lit cigar sat smoking in a gold ashtray and a white, gold-trimmed telephone sat on the corner of the desk.

  Capone sat with his fingers clasped, his hands resting on an ample belly. He was heavy-set, his round head resting on a short neck; it looked like his head was attached directly to his shoulders. He had dark brown hair, slicked back, with light grey eyes and shaggy eyebrows. His nose was somewhat flattened and he had wide lips. I could see that his face was whiter than normal, like he had applied talcum powder or something else to make it white. I couldn’t believe somebody who’d just come from Florida could be so pale.

  Capone made a gesture, and three henchmen rose from the sofa and chairs in the room and walked out. The last man closed the door behind him.

  The room was now empty except for Capone, Moira, and me. Capone stood up from his chair. He was wearing a powder blue suit, with a white shirt, and blue silk tie. His tie was held in place with a marquise-cut diamond tiepin, and I could see a watch chain encrusted with diamonds stretching across his abdomen. He held out his hand, and as I shook it, I saw the largest diamond I had ever seen in my life. It probably cost more than I’ll ever make in my lifetime.

  “Welcome, Mr. Imbierowicz.” His voice was soft and genteel, but I could hear the faintest echo of his Brooklyn roots. “Please have a seat.” He gestured to two red leather chairs in front of the desk. Moira sat down instantly, but I hesitated. I don’t know why; maybe I was stunned by being in the presence of the most famous—and probably also the most fearsome—gangster of Chicago, and maybe even the entire country. Maybe I was just dumb, but I couldn’t get the newspaper article from the day after the massacre out of my mind. I had read that article through multiple times trying to find out any news about Moira. The paper had clearly said that Capone had been on vacation in Florida.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in Florida?” I blurted out. Moira turned away, maybe in embarrassment. A look of irritation flashed in Capone’s eyes, but it was quickly gone.

  “I was in Florida,” he said. “You might say I still am. I have over two dozen people down there who will swear to any cop, jury, or newspaper man in the country that I’m there right now. In fact, I would have preferred to stay in Florida, but the situation here in Chicago has gotten out of hand.” Here Capone gave a meaningful glance to Moira. “I needed to come up here to make sure things got taken care of…personally.”

  He gestured for me to sit again, and this time I did. I glanced at Moira, my mind racing. Moira had hinted that she ‘knew people’ in town, and her actions at the Green Mill had also suggested that she had connections. But until my last breath, I would never have guessed that she was connected to Al Capone.

  “A few weeks ago,” Capone said as he took his seat, “the cops made a raid up in North Chicago on a warehouse where some slot machines were being stored.” Capone waved his hand in dismissal. “A feeble gesture by gnats. But this time the cops got lucky. They managed to get some financial books belonging to my brother Ralph. Instead of leaving what was clearly personal property alone, the cops decided to confiscate these books. The cops then turned these books over to the Feds. I have heard from reliable sources that the Feds hope to use these books to get my brother on not paying his taxes.” Another dismissive wave.

  “Can yo
u believe the audacity of the Feds?” Capone asked. “Thinking they can get us to pay legal taxes on money made illegally! It’s a joke, that tactic will never work on me, and I’ll make sure it won’t work on my brother either.”

  Capone looked at me, his light grey eyes giving me a penetrating gaze. “Now, if the cops had been sensible, they would have kept the books. I own this town from the cops to the mayor. I would have been willing to enrich their lives in exchange for the books, but they made a different choice.

  “Now, I won’t make a big fuss with the Feds. I don’t want them to think they have something important that they can use, but I also don’t want them to have the books either. I could easily make a move to take back what is, by rights, my property. But if I do that, if I get involved personally, or if any of my many associates get involved, then the Feds will become suspicious and they’ll start to think that maybe this tax stuff is a good way to take down my organization. They will become even more of an annoyance than they are now.”

  Capone leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. “But if the books should happen to end up missing, then the Feds won’t have a case against Ralph and they won’t have a new way to bother me or my family. But how to make the books disappear?” Capone shifted his gaze to Moira. I looked at her and saw that she seemed to sink into her chair. I was a bit stunned. I had never seen Moira cowed by anyone before.

  “I had Moira here look for a suitable person who’d be able to get the books for me. Somebody who would have access and who could take the fall if they got caught.”

  What the hell? Realization hit me; Capone was going to use me as his patsy! I guess I shouldn’t have been shocked, it’s not like I was anybody important. The realization struck me hard because I immediately knew that Moira had been using me. I looked at Moira, but she was ignoring me. Capone’s gaze was still locked on hers.