The warden takes my card and nods. “Abyssinia.”
I nod in response.
***
Renault’s Gin Joint had kept the name, despite the place being sold to someone unaffiliated to Moses Renault three and a half years ago. The explanation I’d gotten was that the name holds a level of recognition. The people have come to expect a certain level of service from a place with that name. It’s true; despite having a new owner, the people keep coming and going to the place they recognize over a clip joint they haven't been to before.
I walk through the doors and into a room decorated almost precisely the way Moses had left it. The only difference is a few extra tables and the stage has grown slightly. There is less standing room but a lot more seats for people to enjoy the music.
Abigail and her band play the bar and sound much better than they did when I shot Moses’s finger off. Abigail's presence is no longer an insult to Dorothy’s history with the clip joint. However, Dorothy has never stepped foot in the building since her departure.
I stand in the middle of the room, right in view of anyone who might be watching for a shady-looking man. Undoubtedly, I would catch the attention of a goon. If lucky, the two I’m waiting for still work for the house.
“You’re not welcome here,” a gruff voice says from behind me.
I turn and grin. Roscoe stands with his arms crossed and a deep frown on his face. “Just the man I wanted to see,” I say. “I have some questions for you and your brother.”
“Not here.”
“Of course not,” I say. “I’ll meet you and Rocco outside, and we’ll have a chat. And while you go find him, I’m going to have a word with Alice.”
“No, you go outside, and I will find Rocco.”
“Oh, come now,” I say. “Be reasonable, Roscoe. You know as well as I do that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have a damn good reason. I just need to speak with Alice, and then I can ask my questions outside. All right?”
I can see the gears spinning behind Roscoe’s eyes. Despite being the smarter of the two, bright is not how I would describe him.
“You have five minutes,” he says. “If you’re not outside in five minutes, we’re breaking your arms and legs.”
I nod in agreement. “I suppose I should get moving then.”
I don’t waste another second searching for Alice. It doesn’t take me long to find the scantily clad woman with a cigarette tray. I watch her face go from joyous to absolute terror as her eyes meet mine.
“How are you, Alice?” I ask. “It’s been quite some time.”
“Yes,” she says. “I haven’t seen you since you shot my old boss’s finger off.”
“That was four years ago,” I say. “Are you still mad about that?”
“No, I’m not mad about that. I’m mad that you haven’t come to see me since. Four years is a long time. I heard you got hitched. I suppose congratulations are in order.”
I wave off the sarcastic celebration and get straight to the chase.
“Moses is loose,” I say. “Has he been by at all?”
“Be an awfully stupid idea for him to come here,” Alice says. “Almost guarantees he’d be caught.”
I smile. “Alice, you didn’t answer my question.”
“I haven’t seen him,” she says. “I don’t know if he’s been here, but I haven’t seen him if he has. I stand by what I said, though; it’d be a real stupid idea to come here.”
“Yes, it would.” I look at the clock on the wall. I pull out a business card and hand it to her. “I need to get going. Stop by my office if you think of anything or have an idea where Moses might run to.”
I turn and walk away before she says another word. If I stick around, she’s liable to get upset by something I say and probably deservedly so. Plus, the threat of grievous injury is enough motivation to get my getaway sticks moving.
As I expect, Roscoe and Rocco are outside, both with cigarettes in their gigantic mouths. I match their action and light a snipe of my own while kicking myself for not having bought a pack when speaking to Alice.
“What do you want?” Rocco asks.
“Your boss escaped prison,” I say. “What do you two know about it?”
“Nothing,” Roscoe says. “We haven’t seen or heard from Moses in years.”
“Not since he went to prison,” Rocco agrees.
“What have you two been doing since then?”
Roscoe gestures to the clip joint. “Looking after the place. We don’t own it; it’s a man named Oscar Turnable who does. But we make sure the people don’t get too rowdy in here.”
“I’m sure he was just giddy to keep you two goons on the payroll.”
Rocco nods, his eyes wide with worry. “He sees our use, and that’s all.”
“I’m sure he does.”
“What do you mean by that?” Roscoe snaps.
“I’m saying you two have a very specific usefulness, and I’m sure you remind him of that every chance you get. After all, it’s not often two goliaths like yourselves get terminated by a willing participant.”
“We didn’t have to convince him,” Roscoe says. “He offered us jobs. We would have made much better money had we gone to the fighting rings. I hear the gangsters know how to throw a real fight.”
“Then why stay?” I ask.
“The money might be less, but the job is legitimate and stable.” Roscoe puts his hands in his pockets, and suddenly I see a Roscoe-sized child standing before me. “We want to go straight, and if keeping a clip joint safe is the way to do it, so be it.”
I want to believe their story, and on a few levels, I do.
“Has Moses been in at all? If you two want to go straight, I’d suggest starting with being straight with me.”
Roscoe lowers his head. “Yeah, he was in just a few hours ago. He spoke with Mister Turnable for a few minutes and then left. That’s the honest to God truth.”
“Okey,” I say. “I believe you. Now, I need to speak to your boss. I’ll only need a minute, just to ask him what Moses wanted.”
The brothers exchange wary glances. “I’ll ask him,” Rocco says.
The lumbering hulk enters the clip joint and I wait outside with his brother, both of us puffing on snipes. We don’t say a word, instead choosing to spend our time watching the traffic go by.
It takes about five minutes for Rocco to return. “He’ll see you.”
I turn and smile. “Good. I’ll follow you to his office.”
Rocco nods, and I follow him through the front doors and through the crowd to the office. Rocco knocks on the door and pokes his head in. “I have him right here, sir.”
I hear a voice from the other side, but the music is too loud to make out the words. Rocco pulls his head out and gestures for me to enter. I open the door and walk in.
Oscar Turnable is a heavyset man bordering on fat with a mostly bald head and half-circle glasses.
“Detective Baxter,” he says, pulling a pistol from his desk and pointing it at me. “What can I do for you?”
“Hey now,” I say, putting my hands up. “There’s no need for that.”
Oscar smirks and cocks the hammer back. “Stories about you stick around,” he says. “I know what happened last time you stepped foot in this office. There’s a nice blood stain I haven’t been able to get rid of under my desk. So I’ll ask again. What can I do for you?”
“I have heard that Moses Renault was here earlier.”
“He was. What of it?”
“He’s a wanted fugitive,” I say. “You’ve just admitted to harbouring him, even if it was briefly. So I want you to tell me what he wanted. You do that, and I’ll happily forget this exchange ever took place.”
Oscar frowns and carefully releases the hammer on his heater. He puts it on his desk, leaving his hand on it.
“I don’t think he was here more than five minutes,” Oscar says. “He said he wanted his club back and that he was willing to keep me on as his partner. I
told him to stick his offer where the sun don’t shine, and he left.”
“Just like that?”
Oscar chuckles. “He did give me some cock and bull line about getting what’s coming to me. He thought he could intimidate me, even in a prison uniform.”
“A what?”
“The genius was in a prison uniform,” Oscar says. “Like going to prison makes a man tough.”
That didn’t sound right. The warden had told me Moses had stolen the guard’s uniform. What would he be doing in a prison jumpsuit? How did he get the jumpsuit?
I sigh and rub my temple. Once again, I take a case with Renault in the middle of it and I can’t seem to find a damn answer anywhere.
“You all right?” Oscar asks. “Don’t you get sick in here. I just had the carpet cleaned, and I don’t need no puke stain to match the bloodstain you left.”
“I’m fine,” I say, shooting him a glare.
“So that was it?” I ask. “Moses just asks for his club back, then threatens you?”
“Pretty much,” Oscar confirms. “Rocco, get your ass in here; I’m done with this guy.”
The massive man enters the room and places a hand on my shoulder. “Take it easy, big guy,” I say. “I’ll go. My questions have been answered.”
“It was good meeting you, Mister Baxter,” Oscar says. “Next time you’re in the club, have a round on —”
Oscar’s words stop with a gasp and the sound of choking. In a second, he slumps in his chair, and his eyelids go slack. I’ve seen that look on many a face before. In less than a second, and for absolutely no reason, Oscar Turnable is dead.
Chapter 20
The Find
Rocco and I stare at each other, and then back to the body of Oscar Turnable.
“What happened?” he asks.
I shake my head and realize my mouth is hanging open. “I don’t know,” I say.
Rocco turns back to me, his face red, his nostrils flared, his eyes murderous. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do a damn thing,” I say. “Look at that peashooter on his desk. Do you think he’d have let me get close enough to him to do anything? Even if I had tried something, you would have heard a cry for help before I’d have been able to lay a finger on him.”
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Roscoe must have heard the commotion; he enters the office, stares at the body of his employer and then at me. “What the hell?”
“He just died,” Rocco says. “For no reason.”
“Nobody dies for no reason,” Roscoe snaps.
“Well, here you have it.”
While the two brothers argue, I approach the body and inspect every bit of visible skin. As I expect, there are no puncture marks anywhere. I doubt he’d have accepted any food or drink he didn’t personally make or witness being made, especially after Moses’s threat.
Moses.
“I think I know who did it,” I say, stopping the arguing instantly.
“Who?” Roscoe asks.
“Moses Renault.”
“Moses? Not a chance,” Rocco says. “We were close by while they talked. We’d have heard if he’d been poisoned.”
“Not if it happened later on.”
I look at the corpse, and it doesn’t show any signs of poisoning. I’m nearly convinced he wasn’t poisoned at all, but I have to keep the story going for the sake of the goon brothers. If they suspect me of foul play for even a moment, I’m as good as dead, and not a copper on the city’s payroll will stick their neck out to bring my killers to justice.
“What do you mean?”
I shrug. “It’s possible Moses could have poisoned something Oscar was going to eat or drink. You two more than anyone should know how resourceful and crafty Moses Renault can be.”
The brothers exchange glances and then stare back at me. “Do you believe Moses killed Oscar?” Roscoe asks.
“I think it’s possible.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. Did Moses Renault kill our boss?”
My shoulders slump. “I can’t say for sure. But yes, I believe he did. Oscar told me Moses threatened him before he left, saying he’d get what was coming to him.”
I can see the murder in Roscoe’s eyes.
“Leave him to us,” he says. “You get in our way, we will break you along with him.”
“You won’t see me again,” I say, backing away and out the office door.
I rush through the clip joint and outside to the nearest payphone. I punch in the numbers and wait for the operator to connect me to the police station.
“Captain Liddell,” I hear a friendly voice say.
“Liddell,” I say. “It’s Baxter. I have a lead for you.”
“You do? For what?”
“I don’t know if you heard that Moses Renault escaped prison.”
“I hadn’t. Why haven’t I heard about it?”
“I don’t know,” I lie. “Anyway, I need your help. You’re honour-bound to the city to help catch an escaped convict.”
“Don’t you tell me what I’m honour-bound to do.” I can hear the frustrated anger in his voice. “What do you need?”
“I got a couple bloodhounds on the trail, sniffing Renault out. I’m sure you know them. They go by Roscoe and Rocco; I’m sure I don’t have to give a family name.”
“No, you don’t,” Liddell says. I can almost hear his teeth grinding. “But if Renault dies because of your choice of hound dogs, you’re an accessory to murder.”
“That’s why I called you,” I say. “I need a few officers watching them. Roscoe and Rocco are still in the clip joint, but I doubt they will be for long. They’ll be expecting me to follow them, so I got to make myself scarce. But they won’t be looking for any coppers, at least not yet. Plus, they’ll kill me if I follow. But I don’t imagine Roscoe and Rocco would do much more than rough up your boys a bit when interrupted.”
“So you want my boys to put themselves in the line of fire to save Renault?”
“No,” I say. “I want you to put your boys in the line of fire to find an escaped convict and to get two dangerous men off the street. They’re the only ones who can.”
Liddell sighs as his frustration increases.
“I’ll do this, Baxter,” he says. “But you owe me for it. A lot of my good men are going to be out of commission for a while because of this.”
“You have my word,” I say.
“I’ll send some men to the clip joint. They should be there in a couple minutes.”
“Good,” I say. “I’ll talk with you soon.”
Hanging up the telephone, I duck for cover as Rocco and Roscoe exit the clip joint. Their muscles are puffed out and I can see they’re out for blood. I don’t dare follow as they walk down the alley, away from their place of work. I remain in place to await the coppers, and sure enough, they arrive shortly after. I point them in the right direction and they take off to track their prey.
Once the coppers are gone, I take a deep breath and lean against the phone booth. That part of my job is done; it’s out of my hands. I’ll take the payment from the warden, and Liddell will never have to know, but the idea of owing him a personal favour doesn’t sit well with me. Liddell is a good man and won’t ask me to do something dangerous, but it could be degrading.
I stand straight and head back to the office. I don’t have much time left in the day, and I want to write out my daily report before going home.
***
Jenny is waiting for me when I open the door.
“Mister Baxter,” she says. “The warden called a couple times. He wants to ask you about your progress. Also, a woman named Alice stopped by; she only left a few minutes ago. I’m surprised you didn’t see her as you came in.”
“Thank you, Jenny,” I say. “Has Genevieve been in at all?”
“Yes, briefly. She filled out her daily report and then went home less than an hour ago.”
“Good, good,” I
say. “You can go home now too.”
She doesn’t argue; it’s too late to want to stick around. She’s got a cat at home who needs to be fed and staying late makes it piss on everything. Or so she claims.
Once Jenny walks through the door and down the hall, I sit at my desk and type out everything I learned today. The image of Oscar’s death flashes in my head, and I wonder if that’s what happened when Brandon died. Just a sudden gasp and immediately the life left his body. I hope that’s the way it was; it looked quick and painless.
I finish my report and pull the sheet from the typewriter. I look it over to make sure I don’t leave any errors and place it in the file I created for the case.
I stretch the knot out of my shoulders and walk to the front door. I grab my jacket and drape it over me. As I do up my buttons, the telephone rings. Who the hell is calling me this late?
I place the hat on my head and listen to the telephone ring. Whoever it is can wait for morning. But then I suspect it has something to do with Moses, and it’s most likely Liddell calling me.
I walk to the telephone and pick it up. “Detective Baxter speaking.”
“Baxter, it’s good you’re still at the office,” Liddell says, his voice strained.
“You’d have called me at home if I wasn’t.”
“Yes, I would have.”
“What’s the low down?”
“We tracked Rocco and Roscoe to a warehouse in the Edgar Industrial Area. You need to get down here now.”
“What’d you find?”
“You really need to see this for yourself.”
I sigh and look at the clock. It’s almost eleven at night. “All right, I say. Where are you?”
“Edgar Industrial; you’ll see the cars.” The horn goes dead immediately.
I curse and slam the receiver down on the base. I groan and shake my head. I want to go home, but the job needs to be done and Liddell is under no obligation to help me. It is purely a favour. Even if it is to catch a fugitive.
Dead Man Walking Page 18