The Big Mitt (A Detective Harm Queen Novel Book 1) (7 page)

Hayward had always been a scoundrel of the highest order, but his plan to have her shot by the driver—a dimwitted assistant named Claude Blixt—and left to die was as devilish as the darkest night. And what he’d done afterwards was damnably pompous, marching down to the mayor’s office to offer his help in investigating the murder. The only person he knew in Minneapolis as conceited and smug as Hayward was Emil Dander. Queen didn’t doubt that Dander would also murder someone if he were pushed to it. Both were dandies and dudes, and the one thing they had in common, which soured Queen’s stomach, was that they preyed on young women with no remorse.

Queen clearly remembered the stickpin in Hayward’s tie when he’d visited him a few nights before his execution. Hayward had been smug and indifferent to the end, insisting on wearing formal evening clothes for his date with the scaffold, which he’d even asked to have painted red. The ruby-encrusted stickpin, he laughed to Queen, would match perfectly.

So he knew where he’d seen it before, and was positive they were one and the same. Hayward had even told him the pin had been specially made for him in the weeks prior to his execution. He just couldn’t figure out how it went from the necktie of a dead man into the seam of a dead prostitute’s dress.

The gaslight above his head flickered and he looked up distractedly.

“Doc needs to fix that, I reckon.”

It was Norbeck, who had slipped up beside him with his usual snake-like skill.

“None of us know anything yet, Chris. I’m guessing I’ll get the news on the returning detectives soon.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Norbeck said, grinning and picking at his ear. “I’m to stay on. I’m officially an Ames detective.”

“How in the hell do you know that?”

“I found Dander, Harm. This afternoon. Slugged him once or twice and then dropped him in a cell. Him and that bastard Higgins. Took me and four men to do it, too. Higgins went off his chump when I hit his poor old boss.”

“Where was he?”

“Holed up in the basement of the White Elephant Saloon. Right across the street from City Hall, if you can believe it. Dander’s got one goddamned swelled head, I’ll say. Get this. He had the nerve to tell me my grammar was used up. Ain’t that a kick in the ass? That’s when I knocked the spots off him.”

“Were the girls with him?”

“No, not a one. I figured you’d want to squeeze their hiding place out of him yourself.” Norbeck’s face went cold sober. “Queen, you think he thinks I’m some kind of inferior to him? I’m an appointed police officer, for Christ’s sake. He tries that highfalutin language around me and it puts me on my ear!”

“Ignore him. He’s a fop. What about the bullet that killed the girl? Did you visit the coroner?”

Norbeck perked up, reached into his pocket, and held out his hand. Queen took the bullet, trying to ignore the sweat from Norbeck’s palm, and examined it.

“It’s a .45-70 cartridge. This isn’t from any side arm.”

“Nope,” Norbeck replied. “It came out of a rifle. I seen Coroner Williams come out to look at the body himself. He was going to put it in as evidence for the inquest but I borrowed it. You know what kind of rifle it came from?”

“A Remington or a Sharp, most likely. You
borrowed
the bullet?

“I’ll bring it back later today. No one’ll be the wiser.”

Queen cringed slightly. “Give it to me, Chris. I’ll do it. Did you find any weapons on Dander?”

“Him and Higgins both had pistols on ‘em, but nothing that would fire a bullet like this.”

“But Pock is still out there.”

“I’ve never seen that little freak carry a rifle, though.”

“So that means he doesn’t goddamn have one?”

“Why the hell are you so ‘specially sore today?” Norbeck asked.

“So how do you know you’re to be kept on?”

“Both Doc and his brother the colonel seen me, and the colonel told me himself. He congratulated me on catching Dander and told me I was the kind of detective the mayor needed on the force.” Norbeck’s blotched face glowed a greasy pink, and he lifted his chest proudly.

Queen burned inside when he heard this. It wasn’t that Norbeck wasn’t qualified, but he’d assumed all along that he was going to be named Chief of Detectives and this dampened his already questionable mood. It should be his job to pass news along to subordinates. That’s what a chain of command is for, isn’t it? He hesitated, forced a smile, and then shook Norbeck’s hand.

“You’re a good fly-bob, Chris. A decent detective. They made the right decision on you.”

Norbeck’s mouth went open, and then he grinned, but it wasn’t so much a leer as an appreciative smile. “Nice of you to say so, Harm. I didn’t expect it, but nice of you to say so.”

Queen stiffened uncomfortably. He wasn’t in the mood to have a warm moment with Chris Norbeck right now. “So,” he said, “You’ve just been in to see the colonel?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“In good temperament?”

“I guess. He liked that I collared Dander.”

“That’s good, then. When I’m finished here, Chris, I’m going to go talk to Dander myself.”

“I figured you would, Harm. He’s being held at Central Station.” He gave Queen one of his weird winks, which made the prior moments of goodwill fly out the door. Queen wanted to slap it right out of him, but held himself in check. “But when I told the colonel you were going to question Dander, he told me to tell you not to. Not yet,” Norbeck continued. “You should speak to the colonel first.”

“Is that so? The colonel said this? Not Doc?”

“No, not Doc. In fact, Doc didn’t say much of anything while I was there, except to congratulate me. Kind of strange, eh, Harm? The old man spits fire in front of voters and reporters, but in there...” He pointed to the office door. “He let his brother do the talking.”

“He doesn’t have to pass orders to me through you.” Queen scowled. “I’ve got a goddamn meeting with them in five minutes.”

Doc Ames’s door suddenly opened, and Queen and Norbeck watched Michael Ryan walk out. A big broad-shouldered Irishman from the second ward, he was beloved by the University of Minnesota students he engaged with along his beat. He wore a sad little smile on his face and shook his head, and a few of his friends rushed up to him to ask him what happened.

“Now boys, it’s nothing for you to be concerned with,” he exclaimed, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. “I’ll venture the good doctor knows what’s best for this city, and he’s decided that it doesn’t include me.”

“What?” cried one distraught cop. He ran up to Ryan and put his hand on his shoulder. “That can’t be! You’re Mike Ryan! Not a more honest officer in Minneapolis than you! What does this mean for the rest of us?”

“I hope for the sake of those two girls at home, Allan,” Ryan said, “that you’ll get to keep your salary. Now if you’ll excuse me, boys, I don’t feel much like lounging around here today.” The other waiting policemen surrounded him with words of condolence and somberly escorted him out of the room.

“Holy mother of God,” Norbeck said, grinning widely at Queen. “Damn it if I’m not glad I passed muster. They’re taking the entire police force and turning it upside down and inside out!”

“Christ, stop that smiling, Norbeck. The other men can see you. This isn’t supposed to be funny.”

“Sure, right, yeah.” Norbeck forced his mouth into a frown. He paused for a moment, and then spoke softly. “I’d better go see how he is. That’d be the right thing to do, I figure.”

“Yeah, do that. I’ll wait here and smoke a cigarette.”

Norbeck slid in behind the procession, and Queen proceeded to light his smoke and boil with fury. Shit, he thought. What are they doing laying off the likes of Mike Ryan? He was a man who was respected by everyone, and even Queen grudgingly admired him, although they were opposites in every possible way. Queen got newspaper stories written about him whenever he got soaked on liquor and into a brawl. Ryan was the kind of officer who’d climb a tree to rescue a homeless cat, or scold a crook who offered him money to avoid arrest. While Queen didn’t trust a cop who wouldn’t take a bribe, he also knew that papers opposed to the mayor would have a field day with Ryan’s firing. What was especially unsettling, though, was the feeling he was having now about his own prospects. Just moments ago, he had been concerned with a promotion to Chief of Detectives. Perhaps he had been fearing the wrong thing. If a man like Ryan could go, everyone was fair game. Especially someone like himself, whose reputation didn’t exactly shine in influential circles.

“Detective Queen!” Mayor Ames’s portly personal secretary, Tom Brown, came jostling his way through the hall, and the job seekers cleared him a path. The din of excited talk lowered to a whisper at the recognition of Queen’s infamous name, and he even heard a low whistle come from somewhere in the clusters of men. Boy, I want to wring some necks, the detective thought, as he eyed both them and the man who came down the corridor to greet him. Brown met his look and hurriedly waved his hand. “The Mayor will see you now, Queen.”

He followed Brown to the office door, where a police officer stood guard. Queen knew Fred Connor well, and nodded to him. Connor stepped aside, opened the door, and raised a good-humored eyebrow back in acknowledgement. He was one of the few colored policemen in Minneapolis, and Queen had heard Ames meant to make him his personal bodyguard. Looks like it’s true, he thought. It was hard to question his choice. Connor was a crack cop, a pugilist, and not someone to tussle with lightly. Everyone knew the old man was well protected with Fred Connor.

Doc Ames sat behind his desk, smoking a cigar, and chatting with his brother, who was sitting in a chair next to his. The mayor stood up to greet Queen when he entered.

“Hello, my boy! What a night it is, what a night!”

Ames spread a handsome, weathered smile under a thick gray mustache and heartily extended his hand, pumping Queen’s arm half off with enthusiasm. “So much work to do, Harm. Choosing men for a police force is challenging work. But,” he inhaled deeply, contentment on his face, “We must pick the best, brightest and strongest! No more mucking around with second-rate men, I say.”

Colonel Ames rose and also held out his hand. “Hello, Detective Queen. Thank you for making it down here tonight. I know you’re busy doing important city work.”

“I would never turn down an invitation from the most popular Republican in Minneapolis.”

He knew how to humor the old sawbones. Doc Ames threw his head back and chortled gleefully at that. “Three terms as a Democrat, and the fourth a Republican! Never would I have dreamt of a victory snatched from within the ranks of the enemy party!”

Colonel Ames had a drawn, thin, clean-shaven face with pointed features. He wore a blue sack coat with three stars on its collar, which he brushed absently with his hand. “And we now have the opportunity to do great things for this city and for your legacy. A last, beautiful dance that will ignite the sentiments of the people of Minneapolis.”

“What hyperbole, Fred,” Doc said. I’m most pleased to have firmly stuck a pin in that bloated head of ol’ Mayor Gray. Trouncing him has been a veritable highlight of my career, I say.”

“You must be excited about the inauguration tomorrow night, sir,” Queen said.

“Excited? I suppose so. That daft idiot Gray certainly made things difficult for me.” His face turned dark. “You must have read about it in the rags, Harm. As a mayor elected by the people, I thought it only appropriate that the inaugural ceremony’s venue should be large enough to hold the throngs of well-wishers.”

“I agree with you, sir,” Queen said.

“The owner of the Bijou Theater tendered us the use of his building, but Gray put an end to that,” the colonel explained. “Despite the Republican caucus of the new City Council agreeing to it.”

“That begrudging little dolt!” Doc was seething now, his face tight and red. Queen had seen this transformation more times than he could remember. One minute an affable gentleman, the next a bellowing boob. “The joists in the third floor have shrunk! The damn building is thirty years old! Too many people on the council floor will spring the joists out of place and the whole floor will cave in. It’ll send a hundred people to their deaths!”

“Alonzo,” his brother said. “The city engineer did an inspection of the floor and determined it safe.”

“But even so, I have thousands of well-wishers who will be denied an opportunity to see me sworn in! The Bijou auditorium is much more spacious and comfortable.”

Colonel Ames nodded in agreement. “And unfortunately the city side of the new City Hall and County Courthouse is still unfinished. We must make do with what we have.”

“Christ, I’m looking forward to getting rid of the lot of them.”

Queen took that as an opportunity to speak. “Can I expect to continue on the force as well, Mayor Ames? Seeing as how you are cleaning the house.”

The mayor looked amusedly at Queen. “You’re never much fun without some scotch in your belly, Harm. Help yourself to some.” He motioned to a bottle labeled Dimple Pinch Blended Scotch Whiskey and a glass on his desk, and Queen poured himself some. He took the barest of sips and then set the glass down. It went down like liquid silk, but far too high for his nut, and he wasn’t about to let them watch him enjoy it, either.