David Bishop - Matt Kile 04 - Find My Little Sister (16 page)

Mickey Cohen arrived at the appointed time for his rendezvous with his informant from the office of Mayor Bowron. Cohen didn’t like th
e place the informant had designated for them to meet. The bar was firmly within the area of town controlled by Jack Dragna, the head of the Mafia in Southern California. The two gangsters had an uneasy peace fed by their mutual realization that they would each make more money if they didn’t engage in open warfare of the kind Chicago endured between Capone and Bugs Moran during the latter part of the 20s.

Cohen
sat in a booth which gave him a clear look at the bar and anyone coming in the front door. He ordered a beer and studied the crowd at the bar and the people in booths which he could see directly or in a reflection from the mirror over the bar. He studied them each, one by one. No one looked familiar and no one had that edgy, serious look that men tended to have when primed for action, often looking down, licking dry lips.

At 8:20
his informant pushed her way through the padded, leather covered door from the outside front street. She stood still letting the door swing in until it touched her backside. After a pause to let her eyes adjust to the dark, she walked straight back to Cohen’s booth. She was not the kind of looker people would expect Mickey Cohen to be meeting for drinks. Frumpy was part of her demeanor or part of her act. Either way, it diminished the likelihood that someone there would recognize him or remember her.

“Okay. I’m here, Mr. C. Now what’s so all fire
d urgent?”

Mickey snapped his fingers to attract the bartender,
“A champagne cocktail for the lady. I’ll take another one of these.” Mickey held up his draft glass.

“I haven’t got long, Mr. C. Let’s get to it.”

“Listen, sister. No one talks to me in that tone, see. No … body. Now show some respect. I value what you provide. I show my respect by paying you very well, not by eating your shit. Get me?”

She calmed some
, put her forearms on the table and leaned forward. “I apologize, Mr. C. It’s just that I’m very nervous. The LAPD has their intelligence squad tailing you most of the time. I picked now because it’s a window when you aren’t being tailed. At least I don’t think so.”

“Don’t worry, sister. I didn’t just fall off a turnip truck. I took precautions. No one knows we’re here but you and me.”

A well-built barmaid leaned in when she brought their drinks. “Anything else, folks?”

Mickey s
hook her off and tossed a ten spot on her tray. He had taken off his hat as was customary for men indoors, but he had sat on the darker side of the booth and kept his head down as much as he could without his effort drawing attention.

“The rest is for you, doll,” Mickey said.

She raised her eyebrows and parted her lips, then curled the side of her mouth into an angled yet pleasant smile. After that she turned smartly on her heels and sashayed back to the bar.

Cohen
came around to face his stoolie. “Time to get down to business. What’s going on with the mayor and Cornero?”

“Tony Cornero turned the mayor down flat.
Mayor Bowron offered Cornero a job in his administration as an expert and consultant specifically associated with the efforts to clean up the city. Same song and dance as D.A. Fitts offered Cornero last year, only the mayor offered better pay and working directly for the mayor. Cornero can set his own hours, even—”

“I don’t need that stuff.
Cornero said no, so that’s it. What I need to know is what’s the mayor going to do?”

“He’s working with Attorney General Earl Warren up in the capitol. They
are determined to put a stop to the gambling ships, to stop Cornero from doing business on the S.S. Rex. They want him shut down while they battle it out in court.”

Mickey
sat back and drank half his second beer. “Nice having the law dogs working my beat.”

“That it? Can I go now, Mr. C?”

“Sit tight, sister. What’s their play? What’re they gonna do? And when?”

“That’s hush-hush. Only the mayor and Warren talk about the specifics. Maybe the D.A. knows, maybe not, but no one else. I gather they plan to strike fast, assume the legal authority, get the ships buttoned up, then let the lawyers handle it.”

“How’re they gonna button up the Rex?”

“That’s all I know. Well, that last part I gather to be right from small comments I hear from Mayor Bowron. They don’t want to chance Cornero getting word of their plan and being prepared. They may even be concerned with Cornero getting an injunction based on their taking action outside their jurisdiction. They are playing this very close to the vest.”

“Okay, sister. You can blow. Oh, here. Give this envelope to your favorite charity, right?” After Cohen chuckled, he added, “Get me specifics as to what and when and you’ll get double that over and above your next regular monthly payoff.”

The woman
bounced the side of the envelope against the back of her other hand, nodded her head, got up and left.

Mickey swigged the rest of his beer, looked around, and
then headed down the hall past the bathrooms and out the back door to the parking lot behind the bar, where he had parked.

* * *

Neighbors shouldn’t see a man leaving a woman’s home when the sun’s coming up. To prevent that, I left Callie’s bungalow a little after midnight.

As I got in my car
I noticed a man sitting behind the wheel of a car parked about fifty yards down the street behind me on the same side. I didn’t let on I had noticed the car, and pulled from the curb. At the corner I turned left and drove five blocks with my eyes mostly on the rearview mirror. That same car stayed behind me, making no effort to close the distance between us.

My tail could be the cops or the mob. There was only a driver, so the mob was likely out. They usually travel
ed in groups, at least more than one. This is also true of the cops, but it could be someone from the department working alone. It could also have been Carter Mitchum, the PI whom Tony Cornero had keeping a loose watch on me. The car got a little closer. When it passed under a street light the look through my rearview revealed the driver to be an average sized man. Not small, but not big like Carter Mitchum.

I was headed home and didn’t want this whoever to trail me back there. It was too late
and I was too tired to drive around until he grew weary of following, and the city didn’t cotton to high-speed chases on the streets. After letting two more blocks pass under my car and making two more turns there was no doubt, not that there had been much all along. I was the object of whoever’s affection.

I
made one more turn to get on a residential street which had no traffic. I pulled to the curb about a half a block up and waited. Whoever would either pull over or drive on by. Either act was okay with me, although I’d rather handle it now so he would not be on my ass tomorrow and beyond. Whoever pulled over, easing to the curb about two car lengths behind me, far enough back that he could easily accelerate out and around me.

I got out and started walking back to his car. I kept my hand
near Sadie which I could feel under my arm. When I got close, he rolled down his window. He left his lights on and turned off his engine. When he got out, his coat hung easy. He wasn’t packing. It was Carl, Callie’s ex-boyfriend, whom we had called over almost a week ago in one of the clubs.

“Kile, I didn’t want to make a scene at the
Cinegrill the other night, but I demand you stay away from my girl.” He had been drinking. He wasn’t pie-eyed, but had enough in him that some was escaping on his breathe.

“
Look, Carl. I know it’s tough to have a gal give you the take-a-hike talk. Lord knows it has happened to me more than once. Especially a classy dame like Callie, but this was Callie’s decision. It’s not up to me or you who she sees. She said you two were through. Now be a good boy, grow up, and learn to live with it.”

“
I don’t like your mouth, Kile.”

“
You’re not the first. It’s how I make my living. Look, Carl, it’s late. I’m tired. I’m trying to help ease you through this, but my patience is drying up fast. Wipe your nose and go home. Get drunk for a couple days, and then get on with your life.” I turned to leave.

Carl
grabbed my outer shoulder and spun me back around. When he did he threw a high, wide, and not handsome right toward my jaw.

I stepped in
close, inside the swing, and quickly whipped my left arm up, over and down, wrapping it around his right arm. Next, I raised my forearm up against the underside of his elbow, bending it in a direction it wasn’t designed to be bent.

“
Carl. I can break your arm at the elbow from this position. Rather easily actually. I have no desire to do this, but your interference ends now. You’re not a bad guy. You’ve got a broken heart and now a bruised ego. Both those things heal faster than broken elbows. I’m going to let go so you can get in your car and drive away. I don’t want to see you again and I don’t want to hear from Callie that you’ve been pestering her. Most love affairs end. Yours with Callie is over. It’s time for you to start taking applications to replace her.”

I looked him in the eye
s from close, real close, and raised my eyebrows. He nodded, short and crisp, twice.

I unwrapped my arm from around his, first lessening the pressure so he could drop down off his toes. When I turned to walk to my car he grabbed me again.
He was a slow learner. As I came around, he crouched low and hit me in the gut. A pretty good punch actually. It hurt. Maybe I was the slow learner. Tonight, words weren’t going to be enough with Carl.

As I regained my height,
I judo chopped him in the neck and then hit him twice in the mouth, my left followed quickly by a right. He went down. Out. I dragged Carl back to his car, opened the passenger door, set him on the bench seat and pushed him over sideways. His head hit the steering wheel before settling onto the seat. I left his feet dangling out onto the running board of his 1934 Ford Deluxe. I looked through his wallet, got his name and address, and took one of his business cards: Carl Tressen, Jr., sales manager, Tressen Office Supplies. I popped his trunk and found various office supplies including a box of staplers, one of the newer hot office items. I took one with me and walked back up to the open car door. I took another of his cards out of his pocket and wrote on the backside, QUIT WHILE YOU’RE AHEAD.

I
tore open his shirt, popping two buttons off in the process, and stapled the card to the right side of his chest. He groaned.

I
got in my car and drove the rest of the way home.

The har
dest part of wooing a woman is accepting it when she no longer wants your woo.

About that same time, on the other side of town.

“Frances. You set? You know what your job is?”

She nodded. “I got it Johnny. You can count on me.”

“I am, Doll. You do it right and I won’t have any worries from behind me.” Johnny kissed Frances and they headed up the short stairs to the back entrance to the second-rate hotel where tonight’s ten-to-ten, twelve-hour unsanctioned poker game would be going on in room 714.

“
Relax, dollface, we’re just a happy couple returning to our room after a night on the town, dinner, drinks, you know. Play the role. We’re happy and a bit giddy. If we see anyone, keep your hands on me. Walk a little woozy. Don’t look at anyone we pass. No eye contact. You have eyes only for me. Turn toward me so I can be staring at your cleavage. Women we pass will feel uncomfortable and look away. Any men will also look at your cleavage. We’re just half drunk and heading to our room for some late night whoopee.”

“That part’ll be easy, Johnny. I only have eyes for you.”

“We’ll take the stairs and walk up to the third floor, then the elevator to floor six, and walk the last floor to seven. When we get to the room, you’re to say nothing. Follow my lead… . You ready?”

Frances nodded.

“Put on the gloves I gave you.” While she did, Johnny also put on gloves. Then he took her gloved hand and used his other to open the door to the stairwell.

On seven Johnny t
urned and walked toward room 714. When they were outside the door, he whispered in her ear, “Draw both guns and hold them easy like, gentle on the triggers. I don’t expect anyone’s at the peephole, but I don’t plan to linger at the door. When I step in front of the door, we’re going in. You stay to the side. This game is only for gents, and I’ve got the password. When the door begins to open, I’ll shoulder it and we go in fast. When we’re clear inside, you close the door back to the hall.”

Johnny l
eaned over and kissed Frances. He then put a hand on her breast and held her firmly against the wall to the left of the door.

Normally a game not run directly by Siegel or Cohen, but in their territory, required a payment of vigorish. The small gang running this game refused that payment. Th
is necessitated an example be made. Johnny would shut down the game and end the disrespect. That would get the word on the street to discourage such behavior by others.

Johnny pushed his hat down a bit, spun around to square his shoulders to the door, and knocked.

“Yeah. Who
are you?”

“Joker’s Wild,” Johnny
answered back through the door using the open-says-me phrase revealed to him by Moe, the guy who had sold him the site for tonight’s game.             

The door started to open.

Johnny hit it hard with his shoulder while swinging up the Thompson machine gun from inside his trench coat.

He sensed Frances behind him. He stepped inside far enough to let her slip in beside him.

There were seven men in the room. No one moved. Their faces stiff.

Frances shut the room door back to the hall.

The man who had opened the door stumbled backward, gathering himself after leaning into a player sitting at the table.

“Who the hell are you two
?” asked a guy sitting on the far side of the table.

“
No broads, men only,” said the guy next to him. He had barely finished when Johnny held down his trigger, a string of bullets stitching the unbuttoned vest that draped across his chest. Next Johnny took out the guy who had opened the door, the only man standing.

The others put their hands in the air.

“Which one of you is Moe?” Johnny asked. One of the men sitting to the right side of the table spoke.

“I’m Moe. I’m Moe. That’s me.”

Breeze nodded before saying, “Moe, get up and stand against the wall to my right. Don’t move after that.” Then Breeze turned back to the table.

“Okay, you mugs.
This is a holdup. Get the rods on the table. In the middle like you’re betting them on the next turn of a card. NOW! Take ‘em out slow. Use your fingers only. No palms.” After they did, he said, “Okay, its money time. Empty your pockets. Put it all in the pot. Now!”

When the table was centered by a messy array of money and guns, Johnny
again pressed the trigger on his Thompson. He released it after they had all been knocked off their chairs onto the floor.

Frances
slowly stepped around the table adding a single shot into the center of each of their foreheads.

“Leave the guns
, honey. Pick up the money. Just the folding stuff. Let’s get out of here.”

“I didn’t know you were going to shoot them
. Christ almighty, Johnny,” Moe said. “I didn’t know you were gonna shoot all of ‘em.”

Johnny turned toward Moe and shot him
, starting at his crotch up through the center of his head. Frances, following the instructions Johnny had given, stepped over to put a single shot in Moe’s forehead.

“Skip it Doll. No need. He’s checked out.”

“Okay, Johnny, whatever you say.”

“
Almost time to blow, Doll. Put your guns on the table, but keep the gloves on. Pick up one of the guns on the table and put it in your purse. Pick two others and give them to me. Move it along, Doll. We’ve been here too long already.”

Wh
ile she pushed two handguns over toward Johnny, he tossed his Thompson into the mess of chips and guns already on the table. He stuffed the two handguns into his waistband, still wearing his gloves. Frances followed Johnny out into the hallway. He pulled shut the door to room 714.

On the way down the hall, Johnny
drew one of the handguns and kept it in the front pocket of his trousers. When they got near the elevator, the house detective stepped out. Johnny shot him. The house dick fell back into the elevator. The door recoiled after hitting his legs, preventing it from closing.

Near the end of the hall, Johnny
used the same handgun to shoot a male guest who, foolishly overcome with curiosity, had stepped into the hallway. He went inside the room to confirm the man had occupied the room alone. He had. After that, Johnny rushed back to the still open elevator where he tossed the gun inside on top of the house detective. This would suggest that the shooter or shooters might have headed the opposite way in the hotel hallway than the direction he and Frances were going. The house dick would be the first to be found, then the hotel guest. Their bodies were in plain sight. Conversely, the seven in room 714, might not be discovered for several more hours.

“It’s likely the cops will see
this as a murder of a lonely man,” Johnny explained to Frances. “Soon after that, the word of that shooting or some commotion nearby got to the house dick. He came up and the guy who shot the guest, then shot the detective. Our work in room 714 might not get found for hours.”

* * *

“You okay, Doll?” Johnny asked when they got into the alley behind the hotel.

“Sure, Johnny. What do we do next?”

“Toss your gloves against the wall.” When she had done so, Johnny added his gloves. He took out his Zippo lighter, invented in the early 30s, opened the throat on it and dumped lighter fluid onto the gloves. After he used his thumb to spin the ferrocerium wheel a spark lit the liquid naphtha fuel. He then dropped the lighter onto the small stack igniting the gloves.

When they were in his car and a block away, Johnny again asked Frances if she were okay. “You aren’t feeling sick are you, Doll?”

“Oh, no, Johnny, I’m flying. That was a real wingding. Whoaaaaaaaaaa! Whewwwww! Let’s go somewhere and fuck. I’m hot, Johnny. I want you baby. Right now. Somewhere. Anywhere. Let’s do it.”

“
Simmer down, Doll. The job isn’t finished. We’re heading up to a little cabin. I set it up by phone two days ago. It’s on the road to Idyllwild in the San Jacinto Mountains above Palm Springs. I know the guy. He’ll swear we’ve been there since I rented it two days ago. He mussed up the bed in the room this morning and sent his maid in to clean. It’ll all check out. I promised him a wad of dough when we get there. He’s an old moonshiner. I’ve used him before.”

“Johnny, why’d we kill Moe? I mean he’s the guy who tipped you. You promised him a job, arranged it with Cohen.”

“Moe had to go, Doll.”

“Why? I just want to understand your business.”

“Couple of reasons, one is Cohen’s reason, the other is my reason. Moe ratted out his current gang so Mickey Cohen could never trust him; he don’t want no squealers. From our point of view, Moe’s the only person who can lead the cops to us so we can’t afford to leave him behind. Not breathing anyway.”

“I see. Gee, you got all the angles figured
, Johnny.”

“I try baby. Now
, how much lettuce did we get off the table?”

“Haven’t counted it, but it seemed like several thousand.”

“That’s a good haul. Along with what we were paid to take ‘em out, we’ll have a nice number to add to our retirement fund.”

Frances laughed
. “Speed up, Johnny. If we can’t fuck I want to go fast, really fast.”

“We can’t risk being stopped by the cops. Remember, we’re supposed to already be in
that cabin in Idyllwild. We need no trouble before we get there.”

“All the angles, Johnny. I love you.” Frances then
pushed her feet against the floorboard, raised up her hips, and pulled off her panties.

At the next stop sign, Frances rolled down the window on her side and tossed her panties out onto the hood of the car in front of Johnny’s side of the windshield. They laughed and when Johnny accelerated away from the corner the wind slid her panties over where they snagged for a moment on the radio antennae. After a moment of flapping in the increasing wind as the car sped forward, her panties pulled free and flew behind the car to roll into the gutter as the car sped onward.