One Hundred Years Of Tanner

by Remington Kane

  Sid Hershel opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He swallowed, tried again, and tentative words left his lips.

  “The Heinz brothers are dead.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Englishman and his men killed them.”

  “So, who killed the Englishman?”

  “An Irishman. He calls himself Tanner.”

  Frank Recti leaned over the desk and gave Hershel a skeptical look.

  “One man killed those men at the brothel?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know him?”

  “He worked here for a short time.”

  “This Tanner, what’s his first name?”

  “I don’t know. These men come and go, but he calls himself Tanner now.”

  Frank Recti reached into a pocket and took out twenty dollars.

  “Tell your people out there that I’ll give two sawbucks to whoever can tell me where this man Tanner lives.”

  Hershel looked over at the money and silently cursed himself for not keeping records.

  Within minutes, one of the other workers claimed the reward, which was more than the man made in a week.

  The man said that he didn’t know exactly where the Irishman lived, but that he often saw him walking home past his own residence. If Recti’s men kept watch in the area, they had a good chance of spotting Tanner.

  Recti then told Hershel to give him twenty-five dollars. Hershel handed over the money, and Recti smiled at him.

  “There will be a man dropping by every week from now on. You’ll give him twenty-five dollars and you won’t have any more problems here, understand?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll also be taking your man with me, so he can point out this guy Tanner. You got a problem with that?”

  “No, sir. Whatever you say, sir.”

  Sid Hershel watched the corners of Frank Recti’s lips rise into a sick little smile. He could tell the man enjoyed the fear he had induced in him.

  Recti spun on his heels and headed for the door.

  “Let’s go find this Tanner, boys.”

  An hour after entering the dress shop, Eloise had a job as a seamstress that came with a cot in a back room. The woman who owned the shop had been desperate to hire someone for weeks, after her daughter eloped and ran off to the west coast.

  O’Connell had claimed to be Eloise’s father and a Merchant Marine who had just lost his wife. The owner of the shop told him that she would keep an eye on Eloise and see that she behaved like a proper young lady.

  When it was time to part ways, Eloise walked outside with O’Connell and smiled up at him.

  “Thank you, Tanner. I think I’ll like it here.”

  “The lady seems a decent sort.”

  “Are you really a sailor?”

  “No, lass. I spewed vomit every day on the trip over here from Ireland.”

  Eloise laughed, then lunged at O’Connell to embrace him in a fierce hug.

  “Thank you for saving me last night,” she whispered.

  “It was my pleasure, Eloise. Men like that aren’t fit to live.”

  “They were no different than my father,” Eloise said, and O’Connell understood that life had not been kind to Eloise.

  As the hug ended, Eloise made a request.

  “Please come see me. Not right away, but please do come.”

  O’Connell nodded.

  “I’ll pop in on you someday.”

  He reached into a pocket, removed a roll of bills, and peeled off a number of them.

  Eloise took the offered money with wide eyes. She had never seen so much cash in her life.

  “Now, don’t you go spending that money on silly trinkets and such. That money is to be saved for a rainy day.”

  “I understand, Tanner, and thank you.”

  Tanner sighed as he looked at the girl standing before him. She really did remind him of his childhood sweetheart.

  “Goodbye, Eloise, and may Saint Mary herself protect you.”

  O’Connell watched Eloise return to the shop. He then strode off toward his rooming house. He was going to gather his things and find a decent apartment. Had he known about the two men waiting to pounce on him, he might have left his scant belongings behind.

  8

  Old Dog, Old Tricks

  WYOMING, PRESENT DAY

  Sara kissed Tanner goodbye, as Amy and Nadya did the same with their men, then she told Tanner to be careful.

  “I’m always careful.”

  “No, you’re not, it’s just that your opponents die before they can do you much harm.”

  Tanner kissed her again, a quick one.

  “Be good while I’m gone.”

  “When have you ever known me to be good?”

  “Never,” Tanner said, “But try to fake it.”

  Romeo released Nadya, then kissed his daughter. Little Florentina cried when her daddy released her, but soon found comfort in her mother’s arms.

  “I’m hoping we’ll be back sometime tonight,” Spenser said. “The Greene brothers aren’t the patient type. If they go after Tricks, they’ll do it right away.”

  After the men left, the women headed back inside the house and settled in the living room. Sara sent Amy a smile, which was returned, but it seemed to Sara that the smile lacked any real warmth.

  When Nadya got up with Florentina to head into the kitchen for a baby bottle, Sara found herself alone with Amy.

  The two women stared at each other until Sara broke the silence.

  “I understand you and Alexa are friends?”

  “Yes.”

  “I hope she’s doing well.”

  “She is, and she’s spoken about you.”

  “I liked Alexa,” Sara said.

  “But you liked Cody more, didn’t you?”

  Sara heard the tone of disapproval in Amy’s voice.

  “Amy, I don’t know what Alexa might have told you, but nothing happened between Tanner and I until after Alexa left him.”

  “But you insinuated yourself into his life before that, didn’t you?”

  “I sought Tanner out, yes, but that was a business matter. At the time, I had no interest in him.”

  “Whatever you say, Sara.”

  Amy stood and walked out of the room.

  Sara slumped back on the sofa. If the tension between her and Amy remained, it was going to be a less than pleasurable vacation.

  Spenser reached the property where Calvin “Tricks” Jackson lived and explored it on foot, while keeping his hand near his gun. The property was just shy of fourteen acres, and so it took him over an hour to roam the area.

  Out behind the trailer, he came upon a spot where someone had attempted to start a garden. There was a hole there, along with an abandoned shovel and pickaxe.

  The soil was rocky, too rocky for farming, and the land was bordered on three sides by government property. Wyoming was mostly government-owned land, since the Federal and State Governments controlled over fifty-percent of Wyoming.

  When Spenser was certain that no one else was around, he headed for Tricks’ home, which was a dilapidated double-wide trailer. There was an old car parked near a shed and a dirt bike sat next to the trailer’s front steps.

  Spenser crept closer, and could hear voices inside. One of them sounded like Tricks, but the other voice was young and female. Spenser waited by the shed. Ten minutes later, a teenage girl stepped outside and hurried to get on her dirt bike.

  There was a piece of foil in her hand that likely contained drugs, while Tricks had a whisky bottle tucked under his arm.

  Tricks was still zipping himself up, and Spenser wondered if the girl had traded sex for drugs. The thought sickened him. It was bad enough that the girl was barely of age, but she must have been desperate for a fix to touch a toad like Tricks.

  Tricks Jackson was forty-three, but looked older, and wore his brown hair long. He had gone to jail twice as a young man, and he was a scumbag.

  Andr
ea Jackson was refined, college educated, and beautiful. Spenser had always wondered how Andrea could have been fooled by a mutt like Tricks. Although, to be fair, Tricks had been looking better when Andrea became involved with him.

  The years of alcohol abuse had aged the man and lined his face. Tricks sat on the steps, gulped down some whisky, then watched the girl ride off. It caused him to look away from where Spenser was standing.

  Spenser tossed a pebble over the trailer. The sound of the stone landing made Tricks turn his head even more. When Tricks decided that the sound had been made by an unseen animal, he turned back around and found Spenser staring at him.

  Tricks dropped the bottle, then tried to scramble inside the trailer on his hands and knees.

  Spenser grabbed a handful of greasy hair and yanked Tricks backwards, making the man fall to the ground.

  “I see you remember me,” Spenser said.

  “A dude with an eyepatch who threatened to kill me? Fuck yeah, I remember you. But I swear man, I haven’t talked to Andrea in years.”

  “I know, but you’ve got trouble headed your way. Andrea asked me to save your sorry butt.”

  Tricks sat up, a big smile on his face. The smile was still a good one, full of gleaming white teeth.

  “If Andrea is worried about me, that must mean she wants me back.”

  “I told you I would kill you if you ever went near Andrea again. I still mean that.”

  Tricks’ smile widened.

  “You can’t stop true love, my man.”

  “Daryl and Kevin Greene are headed your way,” Spenser said, and was pleased to see the smile on Tricks’ face vanish.

  Andrea Jackson’s house was in a small town that had seen better days.

  Two years earlier, the local Big-Box store closed, taking over two-hundred jobs along with it. The resulting unemployment hurt other businesses in the community. With less people working and shopping, less fuel was needed for commuters, and the area’s gas stations saw a huge drop in business.

  The same was true for the local auto repair shops, as seldom used vehicles needed less maintenance.

  Andrea was doing well personally, because she ran an online business, but the small charming town she wanted to raise her children in was disappearing, along with its prosperity.

  Tanner stepped out of his rental and looked about. Andrea’s home was of average size but had a decent front yard and half an acre of grass in the rear. The backyard was bordered by trees that stretched back toward the highway.

  The neighborhood was quiet, and many of the other lawns looked unkempt.

  In the distance loomed the roof of the building that had once employed many in the small town. Solar panels were set in rows above the tar-covered surface, and the panels gleamed like polished mirrors.

  Andrea Jackson stepped out onto her front porch and sent Tanner a cautious smile, but her eyes roamed over Romeo and she sent him a genuine grin. She was dressed in jeans and a white long-sleeve T-Shirt, and she met them at the foot of her porch steps.

  After introductions, Andrea spoke.

  “Spenser called and explained why you’re here. But do you really think we’re at risk?”

  Romeo waved that off.

  “We’re like insurance in case Spenser is wrong about the Greene brothers, but if Spenser really thought you were in danger, we would be moving you to another location.”

  Andrea smiled at Romeo.

  “Still, you’re very brave to do this.”

  “What have you told the children?” Tanner asked.

  “They know the truth, well, part of it. Jasmine was ten when we were threatened, and while Ethan was only five, they both remember that their father abandoned them to die. I never want to lay eyes on that bastard again, but if I hadn’t contacted Spenser, it would have been like killing Calvin myself, and I couldn’t do that.”

  “I’m curious,” Romeo said. “Why didn’t you call the cops?”

  Andrea leaned forward and spoke in a low voice.

  “They wouldn’t protect Calvin… not the way Spenser will.”

  The children came out onto the porch. When Jasmine saw Tanner, her mouth formed an O and she blushed. Ethan ran down the stairs and looked up at them. He wore the same devilish grin Tanner had seen in the picture Spenser had sent him.

  “You guys have guns, right? Can I see them?”

  “Afraid not, little dude,” Romeo said.

  The boy frowned, then walked back up the steps and into the house. They followed him inside, and as Tanner was introduced to her, Jasmine giggled nervously.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Tanner.”

  “No mister, just call me Tanner.”

  “Okay,” Jasmine said, breathlessly.

  Ethan merely sent them a wave when his mother introduced him.

  “I’m going to play my Xbox,” the boy said.

  Andrea called after him.

  “Keep the volume down, and lunch is in an hour.”

  Romeo and Tanner asked to be given a tour of the home, so that they could check for unlocked windows and judge any angles of fire they might need.

  They were told by Spenser that the house had one staircase that led up to a second floor. Three bedrooms and a master bath made up that floor, along with a small bathroom in the hall.

  The ground floor opened onto a living room to the left of the staircase, and beyond the living room was a hallway. A small home office and a powder room sat off the hall, which ended at a large kitchen.

  As Andrea was leading them toward the hall, Ethan came running down the stairs with a frightened look on his face.

  “Men! There are two men with guns in my room and they tried to grab me.”

  Tanner’s gun was in his hand so fast it was as if he had conjured it into existence.

  “Romeo?”

  “Go, Bro, I got them.”

  Tanner flew up the stairs, his gun at the ready, as behind him, Romeo herded the family out of the home to safety.

  9

  One Tough Mick

  CHICAGO 1917

  Keane O’Connell was relieved to see that there were no police cars parked in front of his rooming house.

  He’d known that there was an outside chance the authorities would tie the dead Brit to Sid Hershel. If that had happened, Hershel would have given him up in a flash.

  His plans were to stay at a hotel until he found an apartment. Once he was settled, he’d haunt the waterfront taverns and learn who the men were that ran the city’s underbelly. They would be the men that would hire him to kill.

  Killing had never bothered O’Connell, and he doubted it ever would. He wasn’t a butcher and had no desire to murder for no reason. But he was good at killing, was as tough as they came, and found the work interesting when the target was difficult, or well protected.

  If mobsters wanted to pay him to kill other mobsters, he would gladly take their money.

  As O’Connell approached his rooming house, a man walked by him. He was an older man, and the eyeglasses he wore were huge.

  O’Connell had seen other men wearing such eyewear, and thought the trend was a strange one. It would be bad enough to need eyeglasses, but why attract attention to yourself by wearing such huge frames?

  As he turned his head to watch the man walk by, he spotted the men staring at him. There were two of them.

  O’Connell walked past his rooming house and made a right at the next corner. The men followed.

  They weren’t coppers. O’Connell was sure of that, because the police would have just scooped him up and taken him in for questioning.

  O’Connell went up the steps of another apartment house. Once inside the building, he moved up the stairs swiftly as if he were going home. When he glanced back, he found that the men were coming up behind him. They wanted to grab him, not kill him, otherwise they would be shooting.

  When one of them came up beside him on the third floor, the man took out a gun and pointed it at him.

  “You’re Tan
ner?” the man asked.

  O’Connell didn’t answer, because he had just realized that a third man was involved. It was a face he knew from Sid Hershel’s tannery. Somehow, the man had been used to track him down.

  The man with the gun saw where he was looking. He called down to the man standing on the landing.

  “You did your job, now scram.”

  The tannery worker tipped his hat and scurried away down the stairs.

  O’Connell studied the two men that remained. Both men wore suits that looked expensive, while the man with the gun wore a white pair of spats. Spats, which was short for spatter guards, were seldom worn in Chicago. Most of the streets were paved, and there was little risk of stepping in mud.

  “I asked you a question,” the man said.

  “I’m Tanner. Who are you?” O’Connell asked.

  “Frank Recti wants to see you.”

  O’Connell knew Recti’s name from the morning paper. The man was being blamed for the killing of the four men O’Connell had murdered. Meeting Frank Recti at gunpoint did not strike O’Connell as a good idea.

  The other man laughed. He held no gun, but he was big and tough-looking.

  “Don’t try running, bud, Al there will just shoot you in the leg.”

  O’Connell nodded his understanding and the two men flanked him.

  The man with the gun held on to O’Connell’s arm with a loose grip as the other man did the same with the other arm. The gun was still out, but hidden beneath the man’s jacket.

  When they reached the landing that led down to the lobby, O’Connell shook his arms free and backed up, as if he were going to turn and race up the stairs.

  As the two men turned, placing their backs to the staircase, O’Connell reached out, grabbed them by their ties, then leapt up and planted his feet against their stomachs.

  Shock lit the faces of both men as they fell backwards down the staircase with O’Connell riding atop them as if they were a pair of skis.