The Fall Guy

by Joe Barry

  Rush shook his head.

  Big Mick stood up and towered above Rush. “Get the hell out of here,” he said. “And don’t come back. We don’t want no busies nosing around in what ain’t their business. Now blow.”

  Rush lit a cigarette and grinned up through the smoke. The grin touched only the corners of his mouth, his eyes were cold. He blew a puff of smoke up at Big Mick. His voice was hard when he spoke. “Sit down,” he said. “Sit down and tell those gorillas to take their hands off their rods. I’m covered. The only thing you’ll get from gunning me is trouble. Now sit down.”

  Big Mick sank slowly back into his chair. His eyes scowled out through slits. “What’s your lay?” he asked in a thick voice.

  “I told you. I want to know about the Germaine girl. What did she want here and did she get it?” The card game came to a complete halt. The players shoved back their chairs and drifted across the room to arrange themselves strategically behind Rush. He looked around at them.

  “Well,” he said. “How long you been out, Charley? And you, Slippy, it’s been five years since I saw you. You were on a different lay then. What happened to Handsome Dick? You were with him then. Who are your friends, boys? I don’t place them.”

  The two Rush had talked to shrugged unhappily. Big Mick looked up at them.

  “Who is this guy?” he asked.

  Charley answered. “Name’s Henry. Used to be a reporter. He’s a dick now.”

  “Know who he’s working for?”

  Charley and Slippy shook their heads.

  “Is there any reason why we shouldn’t work him over to find out?”

  The two men looked at the floor.

  “Tell him,” said Rush. “Your boss wants to know if you should take me apart. Tell him.”

  Slippy and Charley looked unhappy again.

  “What is this?” roared Big Mick. “You guys afraid of this jerk?”

  Rush turned back to Big Mick and grinned. “They’re afraid of what’ll happen to them if they do. They know I’m too smart to have walked in here unless I was covered. Now, how about some answers?”

  From the corner of his eye Rush saw a furtive signal passed to Big Mick. The Big One changed sides of the fence.

  “Okay, if you know the boys, okay. I just didn’t want to put out nothing to a stranger. What do you want to know?”

  “I told you.”

  “Oh, yeah, about the Germaine kid. Why she just wanted to see how the other half lives. We showed her around a bit. I pointed out some of the boys that has done some time and told her what they was in for. She thought she was really living, didn’t she boys?”

  Four heads nodded in unison.

  “I guess it was kind of a new experience for her. And, can you beat it, she wanted to go along on a job. Hell, I told her all the boys was reformed, that they didn’t pull no jobs any more. Didn’t I boys?”

  Again the nodding as of one head.

  “That’s all, Henry. There ain’t nothing else to tell you. She came down here to look around was all, and we showed her.”

  Rush nodded as if that were what he had expected. “Okay,” he said, and got up from his chair. At the door he turned. “Okay. The next time she comes down here it would be a lot healthier if you’d send her right out again. There’s going to be a lot of heat on the guy who plays along with her.” Rush opened the door. “And if you really want to get burned, the green rocks are the hottest things in town.” He paused in the doorway only long enough to see five jaws drop, then he slammed the door and walked out through the bar and into the street. At the corner he caught a cab and gave Barney’s address.

  The cab rumbled off down Halstead. It had gone little more than a block or two when an insistent honking behind caused the cabbie to pull toward the curb. A large black touring car swept alongside. The first shot woke Rush from the reverie into which he had sunk. He ducked to the bottom of the car as a dozen more shots rang out and glass splintered, dropping in a sharp shower over his hunched shoulders. It lasted only a second or two then the black car was out of sight around a corner.

  Rush sat up and dusted himself off. The cabbie turned around in his seat to survey his passenger.

  “Getcha?” he asked.

  Rush shook his head and pounded dust from his knees.

  “Ain’t seen nothing like that for years around here. Know who it was?”

  Rush looked at the cabbie in amazement. His cab had just been swept by bullets his own life had been in danger, and he was nonchalantly asking questions about his passenger. The cabbie seemed to sense what Rush was thinking.

  “Hell, don’t worry about me, bub. I used to drive an alky truck in the old days. I been shot at more times’n I can count. Besides I got insurance on the windows.” He twirled around a corner. “Like the old days, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes,” said Rush, “just like the old days.”

  The cabbie repeated his first question.

  “Ya know who it was?”

  Now that he thought of it, Rush wasn’t so sure he knew. His first thought was Mick the Big, but he didn’t even think that bullet-headed one would be so dumb as to gun him down in his own backyard. There were others with conceivable reasons for wanting Rush put away. Jago, Brin, certainly Wilmer, and possibly, just possibly, Hope. Rush didn’t trust her further than he had to.

  “No,” he answered. “I don’t know who could have done it. It doesn’t make much difference though.”

  And it didn’t. He knew now that somebody wanted him out of the way. It didn’t make much difference who. The precautions would be the same for anybody.

  15

  The cab drew up at the curb in front of Barney’s and Rush got out and leaned in the front window to pay the fare. A hand tapped him lightly on the shoulder.

  “Who did what to who?”

  Rush straightened and turned. It was Sam Carnahan, his eyes surveying the bullet-holes in the rear windows.

  “I haven’t seen a sight like that in nearly two years. Who was playing with firearms?”

  Rush looked at the holes in surprise.

  “Why, where did those come from?” he said.

  The cab drew away from the curb and Rush watched Carnahan make a mental note of the license number. Carnahan turned back to Rush.

  “You didn’t notice what was happening when the man shot at you?”

  “What man?” Rush asked innocently.

  Carnahan reached over and flicked at Rush’s lapel.

  “The man with the gun who broke the window that sprinkled the glass splinters all over you.”

  “Oh, him.”

  “Yes, him.”

  “I don’t know,” said Rush.

  Carnahan looked at him for a long moment. “Okay, you don’t know. Where were you when it happened?”

  Rush pointed in a vaguely western direction “Out there,” he said.

  “Somewhere between Elgin and Omaha, no doubt,” said Carnahan caustically. “Okay, if you’re not going to tell me anything, let’s have a quick beer and take a quick trip.”

  They were halfway to Barney’s door when Rush assimilated the last phrase. He halted abruptly.

  “What’s with this quick trip?” he asked.

  Carnahan looked guilty. “Come on inside and I’ll tell you.”

  Suspiciously Rush followed Carnahan into the bar where they found an empty booth and ordered beer.

  “Okay, the trip. Where are we going, maybe?” asked Rush.

  Sam swallowed beer and looked at the wall. “It’s this way, Rush. This is a pretty important case. The pressure is getting terrific. We got nothing to show—so I get called in today and raked over the coals. Somehow, I let slip the fact that you know something about the deal. Right away I got to bring you in.”

  “What if I don’t go?” asked Rush.

  “Aw, now Rush. Don’t put me on a spot. I’m in the middle. I tried to keep you out of it. It’s just a quick trip,” said Carnahan unhappily.

  “What if I won’t go
?” repeated Rush.

  “I got to get a warrant,” said Carnahan. He was plainly embarrassed.

  Rush looked at him for a long time, then grinned. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll go. Who sent for me; Bryant?”

  Carnahan nodded.

  “Let’s go, I’ll put that ersatz stand-in for the D.A. in a tight spin. I don’t mind being asked to come in, but no assistant prosecutor is going to threaten me with a warrant. Drink your beer, Sam, this should be fun.”

  The assistant district attorney’s office was that of an ambitious man. Not a paper sullied the highly polished desk top. A pair of pens stood waiting to leap into the executive hand. The walls were lined with bookshelves with each book lined exactly with its neighbors as though a chalk line had been laid. The thick carpet was immaculate. Walking across it Rush purposely scuffed his feet leaving rough marks in the nap. The assistant D.A. himself sat with his back to the desk gazing out of the wide windows. He was the picture of concentration. Carnahan stood uneasily before the desk waiting for his attention. Seconds passed, then the man turned briskly, made a quick note on a desk calendar and looked up, tapping his pencil point on the desk top with a businesslike rhythm.

  “Ah, Carnahan, and Henry. Sit down, gentlemen.” He pushed a button. “I’m sure you won’t mind having notes made of our conversation, Henry. My only purpose is to refresh my mind at a later date.”

  Rush waved a nonchalant hand. “Not at all, Bryant. Write a book. As a matter of fact, I’d like to have a transcript of our conversation if you don’t mind. For my files, you know.”

  Bryant looked at him suspiciously. Rush smiled amiably. Bryant decided Rush was not kidding. “Of course, Henry, glad to send you one.”

  A door opened and a girl walked in with a businesslike stride. Everything was businesslike in this office Rush decided, The girl sat down and crossed her legs. Rush stared in frank admiration. Everything businesslike except the legs. The girl saw the direction of Rush’s stare and colored faintly, uncrossing her legs and tugging at her skirt. Rush grinned and turned to Bryant.

  “Okay, Bryant. We’re all here, now let’s get on with it. What’s on your mind?”

  Carnahan, who had heard Rush in this mood before watched him apprehensively. Bryant tapped several more businesslike taps and looked up at Rush. He was an important figure of a man. Black hair brushed firmly back from a widow’s peak, heavy eyebrows and a finely chiseled, almost hawk nose. Rush, who knew ambition when he saw it, guessed that with the governor’s job Bryant coveted, the black hair and eyebrows would be less firmly brushed. An assistant district attorney must appear businesslike. A governor or a senator finds unruly locks and bushy brows a valuable trademark. Bryant finally found well-chosen words.

  “I am at a loss to understand you, Henry.”

  Rush looked hurt. “I’m certainly sorry about that, Mr. Bryant,” he said. “What have I done?”

  Bryant smiled a businesslike smile. “I’m afraid, Henry, that your sins are those of omission rather than commission. It’s what you haven’t done that concerns me.”

  “Is that so? What have I forgotten to do now?”

  “I think you are quite aware of what you haven’t done, Henry. In the matter of the murder of Paul Germaine, Jr.,” he opened a drawer and extracted a sheaf of papers, “my information is that you are withholding several vital facts that are necessary to the police investigation of the crime.”

  Rush nodded. “That’s bad, isn’t it?” he said.

  The secretary bowed her head to hide a smile and the great man purpled.

  “This is not a game, Henry.” His voice deepened to an oratorical baritone. “It’s full time you realized that you are not bigger than the Chicago police.”

  “Oh, I’m not,” said Rush. “Some of them are tremendous.”

  “That’ll be enough, Henry,” the great man roared. “You will please forget this childish frivolity. This is serious business. A man has been murdered and you are interfering with the police in their efforts to solve the mystery surrounding the murder.”

  Rush took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said. “Now tell me how I am interfering with the police.”

  “I told you in the beginning that you were withholding information necessary to the solution of the crime.”

  “Is that interfering? The police can find out everything I have. I’m not holding them back.”

  Bryant sputtered. “I can hold you as a material witness, Henry. Perhaps a few days in a cell will teach you respect for law and order. Do you think you are better equipped than the Chicago police to solve this crime? Do you think for one moment—”

  “Yes,” said Rush.

  “Yes, what?” stuttered Bryant.

  “You asked me if I thought I was better equipped to solve this case than the Chicago police. I said yes.” Carnahan colored slightly. “Sorry, Sam. That’s no reflection on you. The difference is that in this case I can do things that the police can’t do. My hands aren’t tied by legal procedure. I can blast ahead on my own and blow things open. The police can’t do that. This is not routine, Bryant. There are cross-purposes involved that it would take the police six months to run down. I can get them in a tenth of the time.” Bryant had been holding his breath as Rush spoke. “That’s all very well, Henry. But I think I must be the best judge of what the police can or can’t do. In this case, I must insist that you turn over to them any information you have in relation to the Germaine murder. I must insist that you—”

  “No,” said Rush.

  Bryant paused abruptly. “Did you say no, Henry?” Rush nodded.

  Bryant snorted. Visibly he put a check on his emotions. Rush watched him become the businesslike attorney. He could almost see him marshal arguments. When he spoke it was as to an obstreperous child.

  “Surely, Henry, you must see the wisdom in cooperating with the police?”

  “I am cooperating with them,” Rush said. “I’m cooperating so damn hard that in a few days I’ll hand them the murderer all tied up in a neat little package. It’ll be so neat that even you can get a conviction. Then you can run for governor.”

  “That’s enough, Henry.” Bryant’s voice was sharp, imperative. “I’ve stood your impertinence as long as I intend to.” He reached for a phone on his desk. “I’m swearing out a warrant. I intend to hold you as a material witness.”

  Rush smiled a slow smile. “You’d better let me use the phone before you do,” he said.

  “A lawyer won’t do you any good. I’ll sink you in a cell in the furthest precinct station. It’ll take a week to find you with a writ.”

  “I wasn’t going to call a lawyer, Bryant. This is a personal call. You’ll be quite sorry if I don’t make it.”

  Bryant looked at him for a moment, then shoved the phone across the desk with a vicious push.

  Rush dialed a number and waited.

  “Mr. Germaine, please,” he said. “Hello, Mr. Germaine. This is Henry. I’m running into a little trouble. A man named Bryant who chisels a living as assistant district attorney wants to put me in jail...Yes, he accuses me of withholding valuable information...Yes, I am. I’m withholding it all right, but he’ll throw a wrench as big as a house into the machinery if I give it to him...Yes. Okay. He wants to talk to you, Bryant.” Rush pushed the phone back across the desk. Bryant took it gingerly as if expecting it to grow teeth.

  “Hello, Mr. Germaine,” he said in a voice that was silky yet managed to carry an undertone of business-likeness. He listened a moment. “But, Mr. Germaine, we can’t...Yes, of course...Yes, Mr. Germaine.” He listened for a long moment, a sickly smile on his face. “Yes, of course, Mr. Germaine. You can count on me. Goodbye.” The goodbye was an idle gesture. Everyone in the room heard the bang of Germaine’s phone on its cradle. Bryant turned to Rush. He swallowed deep in his throat. He was, Rush thought, the perfect picture of a man eating crow. He felt suddenly sorry for the deflated figure before him.

  “I seem to have missed several points, Henry,” said B
ryant in a mere approximation of his usually vibrant voice. “Mr. Germaine suggested several things that had not occurred to me.” He swallowed again. “I think you can count on complete cooperation from this office from here on out.”

  Rush’s thank-you was genuine. He had no desire to twist the knife he had plunged into this balloon.

  “Is there anything we can do for you now?” asked Bryant.

  “Not that I can think of,” said Rush. “Everything is moving in the right direction. I’ve lit a couple of fires and the rats will be moving out any hour now.”

  Carnahan cleared his throat. “There’s something we ought to do, Chief. We ought to put a couple of men on him. He got shot at this morning.”

  Bryant looked to Rush in alarm.

  “Of course,” he said. “Do it immediately. Put two of your best men on him. See that he is guarded day and night.”

  “No!” said Rush. “Absolutely no! That’s out. I can’t do a thing with two flatfeet dogging me everywhere I go. Don’t waste their time and mine. If you put a guard on me I’ll just have to lose them every time I make a move. Don’t do it.”

  Bryant looked at Carnahan. Carnahan nodded sadly.

  “I was afraid it wouldn’t work. He means it, and I haven’t a man on the force that can stick to him if he wants to get lost.”

  Bryant frowned. “In that case, Henry, I must plead with you to take no unnecessary chances. With all the strings of the case held in your hands we can’t chance anything happening to you. We would have to start all over again.”

  “I’ll be careful,” promised Rush. He stood up and shook the hand that Bryant stretched across the table.

  “Sorry we had a misunderstanding, Henry,” said Bryant. “From here on out you can count on every cooperation from this office.”

  Rush grinned and turned to leave. Carnahan followed him out of the office.

  In the hall outside Carnahan stopped Rush.

  “This is where I leave you. I’ve got work to do. Routine work,” he said and smiled. “That was very nice. Bryant will have indigestion for a week over this afternoon. He hasn’t eaten a luncheon like that in years.”

  “It’ll do him good,” said Rush. “Somebody ought to deflate him once a week for his own good.”