The Hidden Hand of Death

by Lawrence J Epstein

  “There was a guy. He asked for you. I said you weren’t home. Then he asked for your apartment number. He said he had to leave a message on the door. That you would want to get it. I…I don’t want to tell you the next part, Mr. Ryder.”

  “Please, Mr. Larsen. Whatever it is, I need to know.”

  “You might get mad at me.”

  I had some reputation.

  “I won’t get angry at you if you tell me the truth.”

  He nodded.

  “The man gave me ten dollars. I told him your number. Do you think he hurt Maggie? Could it have been my fault?”

  “I don’t know if he hurt Maggie? If he did it’s entirely his fault, not yours or Maggie’s.” I deliberately didn’t mention myself as a potentially guilty person.

  “Okay, Mr. Larsen. It’s time for details. What did he look like?”

  “It’s been too long, Mr. Ryder. He had dark hair I think. I can’t picture his face. I mean it was one very brief meeting.”

  “He handed you money. Were there any markings on his hand? Any rings?”

  “Sorry. I just don’t know.”

  “What was he wearing?”

  Larsen’s face brightened.

  “He wore a jacket from a club. It was a blue jacket.”

  “Do you remember the name of the club, Mr. Larsen?”

  “I don’t have to remember it. It’s two blocks over and up one avenue. It was called The Night Parade Club. I knew it anyway, but I think it was on the back of the jacket. I don’t remember that, but I know that Club. It’s still there, Mr. Ryder. If they still use that jacket you can see it there.”

  “Thank you Mr. Larsen.”

  I signaled the bartender. Then I ordered a bottle of whiskey for Mr. Larsen. Doing so went against my judgment, but I wasn’t a miracle worker. Someone else would have to take away his taste for liquor.

  I got up to go to The Night Parade Club.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  The Night Parade Club didn’t get the parade going until after midnight. That’s when I entered its doors, let in by Erik the doorman who looked suspiciously like he could double for the Empire State Building.

  I wandered around inside, nodding at the people I knew. I wasn’t sure how to proceed. I saw Lew Van Pelt, the co-owner of the place.

  I walked over.

  Lew smiled and looked at me. “You look naked, Ryder, without a drink in your hand.”

  “If I had a drink I’d go to sleep. If I had one of your watered-down drinks, I wouldn’t notice. Either way I’m better off with both hands free.”

  “You’re always the same, Ryder.”

  Lew and I had known each other for a long time and liked to kid around with each other.

  “So why you here?” he asked.

  “Can we talk in your office?”

  “You know I’m supposed to be on the floor.”

  “I do know. It’s a favor. I need it.”

  He nodded and led me to the plush office in back. He sat and I sat and he began.

  “You sound serious. Someone take a shot at you?”

  “That always happens, Lew. I’m investigating my wife’s death.”

  “You don’t think she shot herself?”

  “No, I don’t. I think someone put a shotgun to her head and shot her. Then he wiped out the fingerprints and put the weapon in her hand so her fingerprints could be on it. Then he held the weapon as she lifted her dead arms, aimed at a picture of me and shot it. That was supposed to show her anger and therefore give her a motive and put some gunshot residue on her hand.”

  “The killer is thoughtful, isn’t he?”

  “He’s very thoughtful.” Lew reached for one of his cigars, lit it, and puffed a few times. Then he said, “You thinking the shooter came from here?”

  “I’m thinking a witness saw someone with a jacket from your club near my apartment.”

  “Ryder, you know if I had any idea I wouldn’t tell you until after I killed the guy. That way you’d owe me one. But the fact is I don’t know.”

  “Who talked about me?”

  “Are you kidding Ryder? No one talked about you. No one wanted to make an enemy of a shooter.”

  We sat as he smoked some more.

  “Listen, Ryder, I don’t like to get anyone in here in trouble. We operate after-hours so we’re illegal. I got to have two bouncers because we have some tough characters around. I start naming names people don’t think they’re safe here.”

  “You don’t name names, Lew, and I guarantee no one will be safe here.”

  More cigar smoke flowed across the desk. I was getting sick of the smoke.

  “There was a guy, he…how long ago did your wife die?”

  “Almost two years.”

  “Okay, it fits. This guy, he’s a gambler known as Wild Bill. I don’t know why anyone would pick that name. Hickok died in a poker game holding the dead man’s hand, aces backed by eights. Anyway, this guy asked a guy in here how he could get a picture of your wife. Excuse me, Ryder, but he wanted one in a bathing suit.”

  “Why did he want the picture?”

  “He didn’t need one for identification if he wanted her in a bathing suit. My guess is he liked her. A whole lot. Of course, then you can ask if he liked her so much why did he kill her.”

  “Because she turned him down, Lew. She was a good woman. A straight-arrow. Not the kind of woman a gambler usually knows. He thinks every woman is available for the right price. Only Maggie wasn’t available at any price.”

  “It’s not much, Ryder. But it’s all I got. And you may be wrong. Maybe he wanted to put the picture in a magazine. Maybe he wanted to get you mad. Maybe someone else was paying him to get it. Don’t hop around to a reason for what he did when you don’t know for sure.”

  “Where can I find Wild Bill?”

  Lew shrugged. “I’ve seen him in here a few times. If he had a jacket, maybe he was a regular. But he had his own crowd. We’re packed in here. I don’t know everyone. I don’t see anyone.”

  “Then who can I talk to so I can find this guy?”

  “Start with one of the bartenders. Mac is the smartest. He’s real good with faces. He works at it. Says if he remembers someone he’s more likely to get tips, so he’s the guy I would go to first.”

  “Come with me and introduce me to Mac.”

  Lew hesitated.

  “It’s my wife, Lew. You think I’m going to stop?”

  “I know you won’t stop.”

  “You can bank on it. Let’s go.”

  Lew was not happy but he went with me to the bar. He signaled Mac to come over. Mac was older than I expected. He had a long face with ashen skin that made him look as though he had died the week before.

  “Mac, take Mr. Ryder here to the employees’ room. Answer all his questions. Do whatever he asks.”

  Mac’s face contorted into the face of a fearful man.

  He led me to a side area with lockers for the employees.

  He was holding a cigarette, but put it out. He started to pour himself some coffee, thought better of it, and sat down opposite me.

  “Are you that Ryder?”

  “Yes,” I said, “I am.”

  He gulped.

  “I didn’t do nothin’.”

  “No one said you had, Mac.”

  “So what do you want with me?”

  “I want to use your brain.”

  With a face like that he couldn’t smile very well but he gave it a try.

  “Okay. I got no other use for it.”

  “I hear you have a champion memory for faces.”

  “I don’t know about that. It’s part of my business so I try to do my best.”

  “You know a guy, a gambler who goes by the name Wild Bill?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Describe him.”

  Mac was trying to calculate what I was after. I was just a killer to him. He was trying to figure out how to be careful and avoid meeting one of my bullets.

  �
��Look, Mac, you are in the clear. In fact, you help me there’s some money in it for you. But I want it straight. Don’t string me along. Don’t tell me what you think I might want to hear. You tell me what you know. I promise you’ve got nothing to worry about from me.”

  He gulped, putting his very prominent Adam’s apple to work.

  “Mr. Ryder, he was a crazy man. I mean you meet a lot of people in here. They’re on some drug or some liquor. The come here to let loose, to keep their locked-up self outside. But even with that Wild Bill stood out.”

  “How?”

  “His mind got caught up. Especially with girls. We had one girl in here. Curly blonde hair. Not a great beauty, but the darkness worked for her. Anyway, Bill decided she was the girl for him. He kept bothering her. She kept telling him to get lost.”

  “And what happened Mac?”

  “One of our bouncers convinced Wild Bill to leave her alone. He did this by bouncing Bill on the sidewalk outside. The cops came but they knew Bill so no one here got in trouble.”

  “What did Wild Bill look like?”

  “Average. He was losing his hair, which he hated. His eyes was bigger than most people and his nose was smaller. But not freak show big or small. They just stood out.”

  “You have him in any pictures?”

  “No, sir. This is not the kind of place where we go around taking pictures. People dance in here with people they ain’t necessarily supposed to. No one wants a record of that.”

  “You’re doing well, Mac. Now all you have to do is tell me where I can find Bill.”

  He held up his hand and stared at me.

  “Honest to God, Mr. Ryder. I got no idea where he is.”

  “He live around here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He ever come in with friends?”

  “No, sir. At least not that I can remember.”

  “And you’re famous for your memory, Mac.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You know where he worked?”

  That stopped him.

  “Come on Mac. Get that mind going.”

  “I’m trying, Mr. Ryder. I really am.”

  We stood in silence for thirty seconds, and then Mac nodded.

  “He called himself a debt collector once. Worked for a bookie. Somebody didn’t pay, the bookie sent Wild Bill to get the dough or if the guy never had it to make sure everyone knew the bookie wasn’t a sucker. The poor guy who couldn’t pay got beat up bad. Hospital bad.”

  “Great. Now who’s the bookie?”

  “I can get in trouble for that, Mr. Ryder. There’s not too many forgiving people in the racket.”

  “And neither am I. Only I don’t only punch people.”

  Mac was duly impressed.

  “I’ll tell you all I know. The bookie’s name is Frankie somebody. Hangs out most days in a pool hall on Third Avenue.”

  He named the place.

  I knew it.

  I gave Mac some money.

  It was time to play some pool.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I was hungry but hungrier still to learn about where I could find Wild Bill.

  I made my way to Third Avenue, located the pool hall. I didn’t recognize anyone inside, so I went over to where a person would rent a table.

  “Hi. I’m looking for Frankie.”

  He waved a finger over to the corner. His finger was shaking. I hoped it wasn’t out of fear.

  I wandered over to the corner. There were three men playing a game. One looked clearly in charge. He was thin and well-dressed. He had on a purple tie, a vest with an intricate, multi-colored design. There was a fedora sitting on the edge of the pool table.

  “Excuse me gentlemen, I’m trying to find Frankie.”

  The man in charge said, “Who are you and what do you want with him?”

  “My name’s Ryder. I want to give him some money.”

  The man in charge nodded slightly.

  “What’s your first name?”

  “Jack.”

  “You that Ryder?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t move your hands. I got two men here that are very fast.”

  “I have no beef with you Frankie. None at all. I didn’t come here to hurt anybody. If I did, I wouldn’t be here exposed like this.”

  Frankie nodded.

  “You want to give me some money?”

  “For information.”

  “How much you giving and what information?”

  His pool hand was shaking slightly. That was a good sign.

  “I’m looking for Wild Bill. Someone told me he collected for you. And the amount I give you depends on the information you’ve got.”

  “What you want with Wild Bill?”

  “That’s between him and me. But it has nothing to do with you or your business.”

  He nodded again. He liked my answers.

  “I got nothing to say.”

  Then he turned his back on me.

  “Frankie?”

  He turned back.

  “Yeah.”

  “People I owe favors tend to do very well eventually.” I thought about threatening him and telling him what happens to people who cross me. I didn’t want to start a shooting match or a fight.

  “I got a rival. It would be good if he disappeared.”

  “That’s not the kind of favors I do. The kind I do is make sure a homicide cop doesn’t come in here to drag you in for questioning about a murder.”

  “Whoa there mister. I never shot nobody in my life.”

  “That doesn’t mean the cop can’t make your life miserable. So, one last time, I’m looking for Wild Bill.”

  One of his men took a step toward me.

  “Tell him to stop, Frankie.”

  Frankie put a hand on the man’s arm. The man stopped.

  “It don’t do me any good if word gets out I give out information about people I know.”

  “Who’s going to tell? I know I’m not.”

  “No cops here.”

  “None I send, Frankie.”

  He swallowed several times.

  “Wild Bill is a crazy man. He hears I said something, he don’t care if I got ten men. He’ll come after me.”

  “He won’t hear it from me. I’ve got no reason to cause you trouble. I just have a reason to give you two hundred dollars for an address. That’s all I want. Tell me where Wild Bill lives.”

  “I ain’t sure. And that’s the truth. When he can he stays in a flop house two streets down. One Eighty-Two is the address. If he’s not there I don’t know where he is.”

  I gave him two hundred dollar bills.

  “I seriously hope you’re not lying to me, Frankie. The two hundred will cost more than you can imagine in that case.”

  He just stood there.

  I turned around and walked out.

  I was still hungry and even less willing to stop. I was on the trail of a man who was near our apartment on the day Maggie was killed. I stopped in a store, bought two bottles of whiskey, and found the address.

  The flop house was disgusting. The man behind the front desk looked to be on the wrong end of living.

  I put one of the bottles of whiskey on the counter. The guy at the desk eyed it after those eyes had widened with desire.

  “That’s yours,” I said. “You pay for it by telling me in which room I can find Wild Bill.”

  “He’s in room 204 but I can save you the trouble. He ain’t there now, doesn’t get there til like one a.m. If he’s got the money he pays. If he don’t he walks on by. Maybe finds a bench somewhere and hopes a cop won’t rap him on his feet and tell him to move along.”

  “Where’s he go until one a.m.?”

  The guy knew. He just didn’t want to tell me. I had to do exactly what I don’t want to do.

  “My name is Jack Ryder.” I raised my voice. “You don’t want to get me angry.”

  “No, sir. I sure don’t. Bill he goes to the park. It’s three blocks
over. He talks to people. He sits. It’s a nice sunny day so he tries to get some of that sun’s warmth. If he ain’t there, you got me. I’m tellin’ you the truth, Mr. Ryder. Don’t be getting angry at me. I got a daughter. Somewhere. Don’t make her an orphan.”

  I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but I couldn’t. This was a part of my job that I hated.

  I didn’t say anything and walked out.

  I went over to the park.

  Most of the people there were in pairs. There were two women, sitting separately, feeding the pigeons.

  And then I spotted him.

  He was leaning back. His eyes were closed.

  His world was about to be turned upside down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “Hello Bill.”

  He opened one eye and sat straight up.

  “I ain’t Bill. I don’t know where he is. You should try the bar two blocks north.”

  “You see Bill. We can get along just fine. In fact I have some money for you. But we can’t get along if you lie to me.”

  I held up the other bottle of whiskey I had.

  “This here is only for Wild Bill. If that’s not you, why then I’ll just be moving along.”

  “You got money too?”

  “Sure. A lot of it. For a talk.”

  “Okay. I’m Bill.”

  He reached for the bottle. I gave it to him.

  He unscrewed the top and took a long drink.

  “That’s real good stuff you brought with you mister.”

  “I know. I only give you the best, Bill.”

  He took another drink.

  “So what do you want mister?”

  I planted my feet and got ready.

  “I’m Ryder.”

  He was faster than I expected. He was fully standing before I could grab him and throw him harshly back on the bench.

  “I really think it would be in your best interest if you didn’t move, Bill. You don’t want to get me angry.”

  He looked at me.

  “No, Mr. Ryder. Don’t get mad at me. How’d you find me anyway?”

  “People talk, Bill. I can get information because I pay for it. But I’m not the only one trying to find you. The cops are looking for you, Bill. They found some evidence they missed first time around. They know you shot my wife.”

  “I can’t go to no jail. I just can’t.”

  “You talk to me and the cops won’t find you unless you want them to.”