The Girl on the Rush Street Bridge
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 26: Vengeance Is Mine
part 2
Max rang the brothel’s doorbell. He waited with the Luger out, safety off, ready for action. A minute later the peephole opened. Gino the pimp greeted the visitor with a weary voice: “Whadya want, mister?”
“Are Ritter and Lewis here? We got urgent business.”
“Nah, they left hours ago.”
“Did they take the O’Neills with them?”
“Uh, huh.” He rubbed his tired eyes before adding, “Who are you?”
Max aimed the Luger at the pimp’s eye. He greeted him with the password: “‘Mike sent me,’ asshole. Remember me, Gino?” Max snarled.
“Yeah... yeah, I remember you.” The eyes in the peephole widened in terror.
“Good. I’m in a hurry and I got an itchy trigger finger. Open the damn door.”
The now wide-awake pimp did as he was told.
Max crossed the threshold, keeping his gun trained on the pimp. “Where’s Minnie?”
“She’s upstairs, sleeping. Do you want me to get her?”
“No time for that. Take me to her. And remember. My heater’s aimed at your back, and I’m not squeamish.”
Gino led Max up the main staircase to a door on the second-floor landing. The pimp knocked gingerly: “Minnie,” he said in a voice quavering with fear, “Max Niemand is here to see you.”
“Oh, he is?” she replied. “Well, you can escort the gentleman to the parlor. I’ll be down presently.”
Max pushed Gino aside. He raised his right foot and kicked in the door. Then he rushed into the Madame’s bedroom.
He was greeted by a flash, a loud pop, and the stink of gunpowder. A .41 caliber slug from Minnie’s Remington double derringer spent itself harmlessly on Max’s silk bullet proof vest.
“Drop it, Minnie!” Max ordered as he aimed the Luger at her head. “I’m in a bad mood and, at this range, I don’t miss.”
Minnie dropped the derringer on the bedclothes. She sat up in the bed with her back propped against the pillows. Without cosmetics her face had a corpse-like pallor. She spoke calmly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Niemand. You startled me. I’m sure we can talk this over like civilized people.”
“Join us.” Max glanced back at the pimp trembling in the doorway.
Gino entered the room. Max motioned to him with the Luger.
“Go fetch your Madame’s pop gun and bring it to me.”
Gino walked over to the bed, picked up the derringer and brought it to Max.
Max grabbed the little gun and stuck it in his belt. Then to Gino: “You go by the bed where I can keep an eye on you.” He pointed to the spot with his gun’s barrel. The pimp complied. “Good,” Max said. Then to Minnie: “Now we can have that civilized chat. I’m looking for Ritter, Lewis and the O’Neills. Where are they?”
“Is that all? By now they’re in Hammond, on the Lady of the Lake. Irene the Gimp went with them. That gunsel Lewis paid her debt, so I let her go. Besides, who am I to stand in the way of young love? I would have told you that without all this sound and fury melodrama. You see, as of today I’m working for Mr. Colosimo. We’re on the same side, that is, in a manner of speaking.”
“I’m on no one’s side, sister, except my own. When it comes to Colosimo, let’s just say we have a symbiotic relationship.”
The madame raised her plucked eyebrows. “Symbiotic? What kind of thing is that? I hope it isn’t perverted?” she added with a leer.
“It means mutually advantageous. Sometimes the ends of justice justify the means, such as working with guys like your new boss.”
“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Niemand. I’ve always wanted to meet The Hawk, and I must say you live up to your reputation. Now, is there anything else I can do for you before you leave?”
“Yeah, you can tell me why Ritter and Lewis took the O’Neills to Indiana.”
“No mystery there. Big Jim and Ed Mahoney gave my former employers a choice: leave town or face the consequences. Ritter and Lewis were supposed to let the O’Neills go, but I guess they have their own ideas.”
“OK. Sorry about the door. You can send a bill for the repairs to my office.”
“Forget about it. Once you’ve finished your business with Ritter and Lewis, why don’t you come back and see us sometime? We’ll take good care of you, on the house.”
“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” He pulled the derringer out of his belt, broke it, removed the second cartridge, and then tossed the empty gun onto the bed. Then he left without another word.
After Max was out of earshot, Minnie turned to Gino and said, “Niemand, Ritter and Lewis: I hope those bastards murder one another.”
* * *
Max returned to the mausoleum and released Sharkey. On the way to the car, Sharkey looked like a man who had a glimpse of where he was going and was in no hurry getting there.
* * *
East Side, Chicago on the Illinois-Indiana border before dawn. A purple sky lit by orange flames belching forth from the nearby steel mills, the air filled with the sulfurous, rotten egg stench pouring out from the mills and the refineries lining the Calumet River and the lakeshore. A hellish landscape reminiscent of Hieronymus Bosch. Max pulled into an alley behind a tavern. An hour earlier, Max had stopped at a phone booth and called Adam Petrović. The tavern belonged to Adam; he ran Ed Mahoney’s gambling racket in East Side. Max had an urgent, secret message for Ed; Adam agreed to meet Max at the tavern.
Max and Sharkey stepped out of the car and walked to an iron door at the rear of a two-story brick building. An electric light on a utility pole lit the area. Max rang the bell. A bolt slid; the door opened. Adam peered out and greeted Max. The bookie was a tall, stout man with bushy black eyebrows, a neat moustache and a prominent nose. He was usually a snappy dresser but, for this early morning occasion, he appeared informally in a striped shirt without collar or tie. He smiled at Max, whom he knew well, but his expression turned to a suspicious frown when he saw Sharkey.
“What’s he doing here?” Adam asked.
“It’s a long story, pal, and one you don’t want to hear.” Max said. “Let’s just say I’m taking him for a ride.”
Sharkey winced at the remark but said nothing.
They entered a storeroom behind the bar, an L-shaped area with a loading dock, stocked with crates, bottles in racks and barrels. The place was dimly lit by a single ceiling fixture.
“Is there a secure place where I can park this guy while we take care of business?” Max asked Adam.
“Yeah” — Adam pointed to a door in a corner near the entrance to the bar — “we can lock him in the toilet.”
Max turned to Sharkey. “Go with Adam. Don’t worry. It won’t be for long.”
Sharkey nodded with the sad, knowing look of a man resigned to his fate. He followed Adam and entered the toilet without complaint.
Adam switched on a light for the prisoner, locked the door and returned to Max. “OK. Let’s go to the phone. Ed’s expecting the call. I assume you know about the truce?”
Max gestured with his hand and lowered his voice. “Keep it down, pal. The guy in the toilet don’t need to know.”
Adam replied in a raspy whisper. “It’s Sharkey, ain’t it?”
“Yeah, I’ll fill you in later. Let’s go to the phone. Don’t wanna keep Ed waiting.”
* * *
Adam led Max to a room behind the bar that was set up for the racing wire service. The room contained dial phones with direct lines to Mahoney’s operations in and around Chicago. Prior to placing the call, Adam filled Max in on details of the truce.
The Indiana mob had retreated across the state line; Big Jim and Ed had redefined their territories and divvied up the Indiana mob’s rackets. Davies had agreed to drop out of the election. Max said nothing about Ritter, Lewis and the O’Neills. That subject was reserved for Ed’s ears only.
Adam handed the receiver to Max. “Ed’s on the line. It’s clear; no sign of a wiretap. I’ll leave you guys alone.” Adam left the room.
Ed began the call with a reference to Sharkey’s poker game. “Did you hear about the shoot-up at Sharkey’s earlier this morning? Captain Donavan is dead, along with six of Sharkey’s goons.” Ed was ninety-nine percent certain Max was the shooter. Further, Ed was one-hundred percent certain Max would not admit to it, especially not over the phone. The reference was just a way of passing on information.
“You don’t say? Any idea who did it?”
“No, Sharkey’s gone missing. The cops are out looking for him and asking questions.”
“Anyone asking about me?”
“Not that I know of. The cops want Sharkey. Seems he’s the only witness.”
“I see. A real shame about Donavan, ain’t it? But then, a police captain ought to be more careful about the company he keeps.”
“Yeah. A shame. Anyways, why are you calling?”
“I have reason to believe Ritter and Lewis are in Hammond, on the Lady of the Lake. The O’Neills are with them. Do you know why they weren’t released as part of your truce?”
“Ritter and Lewis have gone off the reservation. There’s a split in the Indiana mob. The renegades have taken over the gambling boat, and they want fifty grand from Tim O’Neill for his kids.”
“Will O’Neill pay?”
“As a last resort. He knows I’m in touch with you; he still wants you to negotiate on his behalf.”
“I see. I’ve got a plan, Ed. It’s risky. It won’t work unless you agree to it. And it’s strictly between you and me. I doubt O’Neill would buy into it.”
“What’s the plan?”
Max gave Ed the details. Ed agreed, but not without saying “You’re really rolling the dice on this one.”
“It won’t be the first time. I just hope it won’t be the last.”
The call ended. Max returned to the storeroom where Adam was waiting.
“Thanks for your help and the use of the phone. Just one more thing, and it’s important. Sharkey wasn’t here. You follow?”
“Who’s Sharkey?” Adam replied with a knowing grin.
“Thanks, pal. Now it’s time to let the man who wasn’t here out of the crapper, and we’ll be on our merry way.”
“Good luck, Max. I got a feeling you’ll need it.”
Max let out a grim laugh before saying, “Yeah, I got a feeling you’re right.”
* * *
A bloody sun rose on the horizon over the shadowy mills and refineries. The air was thick and heavy with acrid fumes. Max pulled over to the side of the road in a deserted area next to a thick patch of weeds. He set the brake but left the motor running, then pulled out one of the Lugers and turned to Sharkey. The place was quiet except for the chirring of insects and a distant rumbling from the mills and rail yards.
“Get out and start walking back toward Chicago.” Max motioned with his pistol.
“What are you going to do?” Sharkey glanced at the Luger and then looked back at Max. Sweat beaded on his forehead; his eyes widened; his hands trembled.
“I’m letting you go. It’s a little more than two miles back to East Side. You can catch a train there.”
“I won’t talk, I swear. The cops won’t get nothing out of me. I’ll make up a good story, I’ll—”
“I’m sure you will,” Max broke in with a grin. “Now, start walking. I’m in a hurry.”
Sharkey stepped down to the road. He walked along the edge of a drainage ditch. Max waited until the gangster had gone a few paces past the car. He aimed and squeezed the trigger. The Luger popped; the muzzle flashed yellow; a 7.65mm bullet drilled a hole in the back of Sharkey’s head.
Sharkey dropped to the sloping shoulder; his body rolled into the ditch. Max cut the motor. He opened the tool kit on the running board, pulled out a spade, walked down into the ditch and examined the body. Sharkey was either dead or close to it. Max searched the body and found a gold watch, a diamond ring and stick pin, a billfold and a set of keys. He stuffed the items in his pockets, then started digging a shallow grave.
Proceed to Chapter 27...
Copyright © 2018 by Gary Inbinder
