by Rod Reynolds
There was one city missing from the list and its omission was glaring. Instinct told me that was where we needed to be, and I decided to move us west, as close to it as I dared.
Three days later, my hunch paid off. When I called Newland that morning, the first words he said to me were, ‘He’s in Los Angeles.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
From our holding point in Riverside, we made it to LA in two hours. Siegel had been spotted dining at a restaurant in Hollywood the night before, but Newland hadn’t picked up on it until morning and couldn’t pin down his whereabouts beyond that. I raced through the heat of the midday sun, drinking coffee like water and praying he wouldn’t move on again. Lizzie was alongside me. She’d been holding the ignition key in her hand when I came back from speaking to Newland that morning; she must have sensed something in my urgency because the first words out of her mouth were, ‘I’m coming with you.’
I didn’t tell Newland or anyone else we were on our way.
The sun was at its apex when we arrived, the palm trees along the Boulevard casting almost no shadow. The streets were bathed in sunlight and the bustle of vehicles and streetcars and people reassured me we’d have cover to hide in plain sight.
We drove to West Hollywood and parked across the street from Empoli’s, the eatery Siegel was rumoured to have graced the night before. Lizzie laid on her thickest drawl and went inside clutching a nickel tourist guidebook, asking for a hint when she might star-spot a handful of notables – Benjamin Siegel chief among them. The act got us no closer; the maitre d’ confirmed Siegel had been there, but that he wasn’t expected there again that night; an infrequent guest was how he referred to him.
From there, I made a run through Beverly Hills, bracing low-risk types only – hotel doormen and bellhops, strictly those who wouldn’t know my face. The tactic proved fruitless, so I doubled-down by calling Hector King at the Times. He drew a blank, but suggested asking some of his legmen, giving me the names of two bars around City Hall I could try. Talking to other hacks was a last-ditch ploy because once word I was in town hit the street, there was no controlling whose ears it might reach. But any way I looked at it, the window of time I could be in the city was short.
I drove to Lacey’s on East Second Street, spoke with three of King’s men in there, then crossed to the Banbury. One man after another gave me the same retread as what Newland had already told me, and none of them could come up with a location for Siegel. But just as I was about to give up, one of Hector’s men dropped a nugget about ‘some Hollywood guy, been rattling the can around town for Bugsy’.
He couldn’t put a name on the man, but I thought I could, and I realised I’d been wasting my time at the wrong end of the ladder.
*
It was past seven when we rolled up to the security hut at the main gate of TPK Studios. I was hoping Joseph Bersinger would’ve been on shift, but I struck out on that too. I lowered my window and waited as the guard stepped out with his clipboard.
‘Your name, sir?’
‘Miss French for Mr Maskill.’ I inclined my head to Lizzie. She had on a pair of dime store black sunglasses and kept her gaze straight ahead.
He looked down his list. ‘I don’t see that name on here …’
I winked at him. ‘It’s more like a delivery.’
He reddened. ‘I don’t … I’ll have to make a call.’
‘You think that’s wise? He wanted to be asked about it, he wouldn’t have made the appointment out of hours.’
The man hesitated.
‘Look, you do what you want to do, but I got instructions from Mr Siegel to see this dame to the door, so how about you hurry it up?’
The man glanced at his clipboard again. He took a step towards the hut and stopped, then turned and lifted the bar across the road. ‘Make it fast.’
I drove past the hut and inside the complex, parking near the main entrance. I put my hand on Lizzie’s leg, felt it trembling. ‘You did good.’
She took the glasses off and tossed them on the dash. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
*
Nick Maskill kept an office on the fourth floor, overlooking Gower Gulch. I’d called ahead of time from a payphone around the corner to confirm he was still at his desk, posing as a stringer for the Hollywood Reporter; the switchboard lady ran me off the line, but not before she’d let slip what I needed to know.
We rode the elevator and came out into a corridor carpeted with inch-deep pile. I walked along the row of doors, reading nameplates until we came to Maskill’s. I tried the handle and it swung open.
Maskill was at his desk writing and snapped his head up to look. He was wearing a light blue seersucker suit with a grey necktie. He had the build of a man used to lunching on someone else’s check, but his face was youthful, with strong features and an aquiline nose. I stepped inside, Lizzie trailing close behind, and shut the door.
‘Who—’ Maskill stopped abruptly and reached for the telephone.
I darted over, ripped it off the desk and dashed it behind me, the cord flying out of its socket.
Maskill snatched his hand away like he’d touched a griddle.
I pointed at him. ‘You pimp girls for Ben Siegel.’
He stood up. ‘That is—’
I went around the desk and pushed him back into his chair. ‘Now you’re trying to help him raise money, correct?’
‘Who in god’s name are you?’
‘I’m a friend to two young women you plied with liquor until they thought going to Las Vegas to sell their bodies was a good idea. One of them is dead now, but you probably don’t want to hear about that.’
He’d paled to the point it looked like he could vomit.
‘Yeah, I know the full story. And you know what else?’ I dropped my press card in front of him. ‘I can tell it and name your name because I haven’t got a damn thing to lose.’
He tilted his chin to stretch his throat and fumbled a cigarette from his jacket pocket. He put the smoke in his mouth and I swiped it away. ‘Where do I find Siegel?’
He stared at me, his eyes flaring. ‘I don’t—I don’t—’
‘Yes you do, Maskill. You thought it was all fun and games playing gangster and palling around with Siegel; well, this is the other shoe dropping.’ I rabbit-punched him in the face.
I heard Lizzie gasp and saw her put her hand over her mouth. I’d surprised myself just as much, not even realising what I was doing until my knuckle met his cheek.
I took a breath, shaking, a combination of shock and rage, trying to bring it all under control again. ‘The story’s written and ready to print, Nick. I walk out of here empty-handed and it hits the street tomorrow.’
He was holding his face, a mark already rising under his right eye. ‘Please, it’s not how you think …’
My fist was still cocked, but I lowered it a little.
‘He has certain materials,’ he said. ‘Photographs I never knew …’ He dipped his head and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. ‘Oh, god …’
I took a step back, looking for somewhere to put my eyes. Another blackmail scam, something I should have reckoned on.
Lizzie drew up beside me. ‘Mr Maskill, Benjamin Siegel has a hold over lots of people, but not all of them fold like a house of cards.’ She glanced at me, then fixed him with a look. ‘Now it’s time to do the right thing.’
He didn’t look up.
I took the pen he’d been writing with and held it out to him. ‘I can make Siegel go away, but only if I know where he is.’
He glanced at Lizzie, at me, at the pen.
‘How many other girls did you recruit for him?’
‘You owe every last one of them a debt,’ Lizzie said.
He shook his head. ‘You keep the pen, write this down.’ He dictated an address in Beverly Hills. ‘Keep my name out of it, please? I’ve got two daughters—’ He pointed to a framed photograph of two adolescent girls on the wall to his left. ‘Please …’
I took the paper and bolted, feeling more disgust than sympathy.
*
I stopped at a payphone on the run to Beverly Hills and called Tanner’s office again. No answer. I counted off thirty seconds, called once more, still no answer. I jammed the receiver back in its cradle, the place apparently abandoned. Then I picked it up again, dialled the Bureau’s LA field office, routing through switchboard to a voice that didn’t give his name.
‘Charlie Yates calling for Special Agent Tanner.’
‘Hold on a minute.’
I drummed my hand on the top of the payphone’s housing.
‘Sir, Special Agent Tanner is unavailable.’
‘I’ll hold. Tell him it’s urgent.’
‘That won’t be possible.’
‘What do you mean? Is he there?’
The voice was flat. ‘It means he’s unavailable, sir.’
I slapped the side of the booth, the picture coming clear: Tanner freezing me out.
‘Tell him I’m about to gift wrap Benjamin Siegel for him, so he better take the damn call.’
‘I’ll pass along the message.’
‘No, it’s not a message—’
The line was dead.
*
The property was a Spanish-style whitewashed mansion, two wings extending from a central turret-like section, with tall, arched window openings and terracotta-tiled roofs. Dark-coloured drapes were drawn across all the windows and no lights were showing. A statue of a lion stood guard at the top of the driveway, the house number shown at the bottom of its plinth.
I cruised past the place once and carried on to the end of the block, parking on the other side of the street. I turned the engine off and sat in the dark, the feeling that my plan was coming apart.
‘Looks empty. How long do we wait?’ Lizzie said.
I leaned on the bench seat and twisted around to look at the house.
‘What is it?’ Lizzie said.
‘I’m going to take a look.’ I opened the door before I lost my nerve.
‘Charlie, wait—’ She groped for my hand. ‘You could walk right into him.’
‘Then I’d have my answer.’
I stepped out then turned around and reached back inside to hand her the ignition key. ‘Keep hold of this. Just in case.’
‘In case of what? You’re not here to confront him, Charlie. Don’t lose sight of what we came to do.’
‘I’m not. It’s a precaution.’
She tossed the key back to me. ‘Then you take it. The only way you can be sure I’m safe is if you come back.’
‘Liz—’
‘No, I mean it. I’ve seen that look in your eyes before.’
I could tell what she was referring to. I gestured to the big houses along the street. ‘This isn’t Texarkana and I’m not carrying a gun.’
‘It’s what’s in your head that worries me.’
‘I’ll be careful.’ I made a show of putting the key in my inside pocket. ‘I love you.’
*
I crossed the lawn at the front, coming to a balustrade at the top of the gentle slope. It fronted an expansive terrace running along the length of the house. I ducked down and looked along the dark windows, seeing no sign of occupation. A line of trees and bushes in front of the balustrade shielded the terrace from the street; I backed away and used them as cover to move towards the side of the house.
A small carport at the top of the drive led through to the rear of the property. I walked under it but stopped at the far edge when I saw a glow from a window towards the back of the house. I pressed myself against the wall and peered around to see.
I saw it was actually a row of five narrow windows next to each other under an arch. The glow was faint because a drape was partially drawn, but not all the way. I couldn’t see inside from my vantage point. I waited, listening, but could hear nothing from inside. Katydids chirruped in bursts, jangling my nerves.
I crossed to the opposite wall of the carport, moving on my toes. I craned my neck but still couldn’t see inside. Concerned that I was more exposed at that angle, I retreated into the shadows.
The windows ran almost to ground level, nixing the thought of crawling over to them to look in. Besides that, anyone inside that room would be able to see me before I got close. Ditto anyone in the neighbouring mansion, one of its windows directly overlooking the lit room.
I stood there, breathing hard but silent. I knew I should go back to the car. I wished I hadn’t seen the light, but I couldn’t leave there not knowing.
Opposite me there was a side door in the wall adjoining the house. I tried the knob; it turned silently and the door cracked open. I held for two heartbeats that stretched for ever, hearing Lizzie’s words and Tanner’s silence, then slipped inside.
I was in a large foyer. In the gloom, I could see five doorways leading off of it, the front door to my right and a staircase across from me. Only one of the doors was open, to my left, leading into the room where the light shone. I could just see inside, an ornate reading lamp on a mahogany side table casting a glow that ended well short of my feet.
I took a step forward, expanding my view. A grand piano dominated one corner, flanked by various busts and carvings, the walls adorned with portraits of men I didn’t know. From my angle I could only see one half of the room, the far end from where the windows were.
I looked around. From behind the staircase, I’d have a view of the opposite side of the room. I went the long way around, skirting the walls and passing the front door until I was on the far side of the foyer.
As soon as I got there, I could tell there was someone inside. I couldn’t see, but I could sense him – that primal instinct that kicks in to alert us to the presence of another. It heightened everything – the smell of fresh-cut flowers and cigar smoke overpowering, the thud of my heartbeat like a war drum.
A floral-pattern sofa ran perpendicular to the windows and I could see one end of it. The man was sitting on the other end, I was sure of it, my view of him blocked by the open door. I stretched my neck as far as I dared, caught a glimpse of the edge of a newspaper being held up. The sound of rustling pages as he straightened it.
I was risking everything to keep myself and my wife alive, and the son of a bitch was reading the LA Times.
I moved to the doorway. He must have heard my footsteps and he lowered the paper just as I got sight of him.
Siegel startled, when he saw me. ‘Jesus fucking Christ. You?’
He still had the newspaper occupying both hands. Through my rage, I had wherewithal enough to know I was safe only as long as I could see them.
‘Me.’
‘You must be out of your mind.’ He laid the paper on his lap, as calm as if I’d offered to fix him a drink. He was wearing a light brown suit and I couldn’t see the telltale bulge of a weapon anywhere.
I knew I should make a run for the car but I couldn’t tear myself away. His eyes were almost doleful, his eyebrows naturally sloping downwards from his forehead, but his mouth was a slit.
‘You’ve cost me,’ I said.
He raised a hand and I flinched, drawing a smile from him. ‘Should’ve kept your nose out of my business, shouldn’t you.’
‘I wanted no part of your business. You came for me.’
‘How’s that, you cocksucker? I’m sitting right here on my sofa.’
‘Go to hell.’
He squinted. ‘I would’ve credited you with being in Patagonia by now. What the hell are you doing here?’
The truth was on my lips, but I only realised what it was as I spoke it. ‘I wanted to look you in the eye.’
‘Knock yourself out.’ He raised his other hand, presenting himself. ‘I’ll piss in yours when you’re through.’
‘So what now, Ace? You done gazing, gonna ask me to dance?’ He uncrossed his legs.
‘What now is I walk out. You’re finished and you know it. You wouldn’t be hiding here in the dark otherwise.’
‘Is that a fact?’ Before I could move, he reached into the left pocket of his jacket and pulled a snub nose.
He pointed it at my face. ‘You saved me paying out on the contract, so I’ll do you quick as a favour.’
There was a gunshot and I shut my eyes, hearing a second and third.
I felt no impact. I realised I was still standing. I opened my eyes again and heard another shot, Siegel’s face punctured and bleeding. I threw myself to the floor just as another two rang out, each one causing him to jerk.
The room fell silent again but the sound was still reverberating through my head. Siegel was limp on the sofa, his head flopped to one side, blood leaking from his left eye and his mouth. His copy of the Times had fallen to the floor, now soaked red.
I checked myself but was unmarked. My whole body was trembling. I looked up and saw the window panes laced with bullet holes. I staggered to my feet, gawping at Siegel. Even if I’d had time, there was no call to check for a pulse.
I took a step towards the doorway, then realised going out through the side door was to run towards the gunman. I froze, glancing over at the window again, wondering if he’d seen me. The open door to the reading room might have concealed me from his view. Staying put my best chance—
I heard the side door being pushed open. Footsteps coming towards me across the foyer.
I glanced at Siegel – the snub nose still in his hand. I ran to the end of the sofa and pried it from his warm fingers. I got it up and trained on the doorway just as Colt Tanner stepped through it.