The Last Cop Out (24 page)
Burke said something very softly under his breath and went out in the street to whistle , down a cruising cab. He gave the driver the number downtown and settled back into the seat.
Sergeant Schneider was just getting ready to leave when Gill Burke walked in. He took one look at Gill’s face and said, “Aw no, not you again.”
“Won’t take long, buddy.”
“Look, I’m an hour late for supper already. Can’t it wait?”
“What’s the matter, don’t you want to be a hero?”
“Who can be a hero in the records section, you kidding?”
Burke just stood there until Schneider threw up his hands. “Get the files on the stuff they found in Ted Proctor’s room,” he said. “I want to see the complaint sheets and the names and addresses of the owners of the junk that was hoisted.”
“For Pete’s sake, Gill!”
“Come on, it won’t take all that long.”
With another resigned look, Schneider pushed himself out of his chair and nodded for Gill to follow him. Thirty minutes later he had everything Burke had requested and watched while Gill went through them one by one. Seven persons had reported their pockets picked with a total loss of four hundred and eighty-six dollars. The notation made said that the wallets and remaining contents had been returned to their rightful owners. Gill jotted down their names and addresses in his pad and closed the folders.
Schneider gave him an annoyed look and asked, “That’s all?”
There was something bright in Burke’s eyes. “We all missed something there, buddy.”
“Like what?” The sergeant didn’t get it.
“Those complaints were all filed within two days.”
“So what? You get a guy hoisting wallets on a good day and he isn’t about to quit.”
“Proctor was a two-bit drunk. He didn’t need over four hundred bucks to satisfy his kind of thirst.”
“Then you’ve forgotten your drunks,” Schneider told him.
“He’d get rolled himself before he could spend it and with the kind of a need he’d have he’d go try for another score.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe hell. You’ve gone ape over this crap, Gill. I don’t know why you bother.”
“Because this kind of crap got me booted off the force.” Schneider just looked at him.
“And it is crap, friend. The whole damn thing is a phony.”
“You can prove that, I guess?”
Gill nodded. “Yeah, if I’m right, I think I can.”
It was simpler to bypass the government bureau and get what he wanted from the newspaper office. The guy at the city desk was having a slow hour and was glad to escort him to the right department and open up the files. He looked up the dates, handed Gill the two detailed sheets and let him read them over. When Gill handed them back he said, “Find anything?”
“Beautiful,” he said and thanked him.
He went back outside, walking toward the corner in the rain that came slashing down from the roiling sky that churned about the towering spires of the city. He was alone on the street and he was smiling again in spite of the downpour, because the two nights all those pockets were reported picked it had been raining the same way as this one and not the kind of night a pickpocket would be working at all.
12
The explosion in Miami came within two hours of the arms shipment to Vigaro’s Outboard Motor Outlet. Neither Vig nor Herman the German bothered checking the source of their bounty, fully believing that Moe Piel had somehow arranged it all. They didn’t even bother to consider that the value of the arms they received was far greater than the cash Moe had carried. The mere sight of grenades, Army issue submachine guns still packed in cosmoline and cases of ammunition was so exhilarating that all they could think of was the power it brought and Herman the German had a sudden vision of a new order with himself in the seat of power being instituted in the peninsular state with an even more satisfying picture of at last having the means to wipe out a certain old Don named Papa Menes whose guts he hated so badly it made his bones ache.
Unfortunately for the two out-of-town soldiers the Big Board had sent in, they had figured anything outside their own city was Hicksville and, after making a hit on one of Herman’s men, didn’t cover their getaway trail well enough, never suspecting that a fifteen-year-old girl on a motor scooter was the one tracking them to their hideout. A grenade through the living room window of the cottage they occupied kept them from having any regrets.
Another group making a pass at a drive-in hamburger stand where one of Herman’s top lieutenants had been reported to be having lunch was chopped up in a crossfire of rapid bursts from three tommy guns and only the driver escaped alive, the other two in the car being cut to bloody pieces.
The shock wave that went through the organization that considered itself invincible took hours to subside, then they realized that the enemy they considered such an upstart was far more formidable than they had supposed. He was operating in his own territory, an area of absolute necessity to syndicate operations, he had all the equipment for defense and offense he would need, the manpower to handle it, and with the flush of success he’d be getting new recruits all the time. But more important than anything, he had the temerity to hit hard and the intelligence to remain obscure while he did it. Already he had decimated the brains of the organiza tion with bold strikes across the country in a manner so unpredictable as to make a defense impossible.
What the Big Board could not quite understand was how they could have underestimated or overlooked a person like Herman the German. Anybody with any sense at all should have picked up his potential long ago and either alerted them or had him knocked off.
It was Florio Prince who remembered the incident of Papa Menes having him beaten up and kicked out of New York, and after a short consideration they determined that it was that indiscretion on the part of Menes that had terminated in the near-destruction of everything they had so carefully built up. So, even though Papa Menes was the head of the structure, the mental reservations were there on the part of the members and unless he fully redeemed himself, he would be invited to step down.
Taking no chances on having Papa Menes learn he was the instigator of his demise, Florio Prince informed him of the Board’s inclination, wondering, at the time, how the old man could be so calm when the others wanted his ass and his realm.
Papa Menes was far from calm. He chewed on the end of an unlit cigar, something he hadn’t done for years, his hot eyes roaming over the six capos assembled in the back room of The Red Dolphin Grill, boiling mad because a revolt like this should have been handled at the local level without hav ing to bring in the head of the entire structure.
He didn’t admit it, even to himself, but the main reason for his anger was something else, a haunting fear that Miami wasn’t the answer to it at all, and someplace out there was a gun waiting for him to expose himself so it could go off inside his skull. He kept remembering Victor Petrocinni, Teddy Shu, Slick Kevin, Stanley Holland and all the others and a little trickle of sweat ran down his back and he was glad he wore his seersucker jacket so they couldn’t see the fear stain on his shirt.
They gave him the details of the layout, the number of men involved and certain possibilities of attack. It was going to have to be done completely within the organization because their political connections had all gone sour and there wasn’t a single official contact they could count on for cooperation. The police would hit them as quickly as they would Herman’s men and there was always the probability that the FBI would find a reason to enter the scene and reinforce the local department.
But Miami wasn’t new to Papa Menes. It had been his second home for half his life and he knew every street and business in it. Those things never changed. They expanded, or were renovated, but they never really changed. The only thing that changed were the people and that’s where the trouble always came from.
The meeting lasted a little over four hours, and when it was done, the assembled group murmured with pleasure at the sheer genius of Papa Menes and realized why he was the Boss, completely understanding how he got to that position, and already felt sorry for anyone who tried to challenge his authority.
Because of his age and position, Papa was not expected to have a direct hand in the operation, but it would proceed according to his detailed plans and he would remain in the background if any alteration of the scheme seemed necessary.
When they adjourned, Papa got in the car with Artie Meeker and started on the circuitous route back to the cottage in the Keys. His part of the job was over and he felt good. Those bastards in Chicago would see how it was when the real expert came in and he’d sure as hell lay them out at the next meeting. A few heads were going to roll just to set an example for the rest of the pricks who thought he was finished. Shit, there wasn’t a one of them he couldn’t outthink or outfuck anyway.
He felt his belly stir at the latter thought and decided he’d have Artie pick up that little blonde that night for a celebration. Artie didn’t mind the driving at all as long as he had his own broad to bang. Poor Artie, he thought. No imagination at all. Just a mechanical piston going up and down exactly so many times before exhausting. A pause for cooling and refueling, then another energizing. He never bothered to notice the bored look on the broad’s face. Now with him, Papa, the dame
always
had an expression and it sure wasn’t boredom. It could range from pain to pleasure, but it was never boredom. He might be old, but he certainly was imaginative.
always
had an expression and it sure wasn’t boredom. It could range from pain to pleasure, but it was never boredom. He might be old, but he certainly was imaginative.
Back in New York, Mark Shelby had come out of his controlled rage because Little Richard Case had met him in an out-of-the-way bar on the West Side, and from his expression, the news was good. They had their drinks served at a table in the back and when the shoddy bartender had gone back to his post Mark said, “What did you get?”
Little Richard shifted his bulk in the chair and tasted his drink. It was lousy, but something he needed. “The cops have Shatzi located somewhere in a two block area uptown. They got the whole section cordoned off and are doing a house-to-house search.”
“How’d they find him?”
“The slob brought some dame into his room and you know what? He’s got the Frenchman’s belly button in a damn bottle. She spots it right away and cuts out because she’s terrified of weirdos. The broad’s only a five buck hooker, but she’s been rousted plenty, so she tries to make points and tips the cops.”
“Shit.”
“They don’t want to scare him off, so they moved in the plainclothes bunch. No lights, no sirens ... just a lot of manpower.”
“Who we got in that area?”
Case gave him a small smile. “Marty and his cousin Mack. They’re in the next building. They’ve been living there four years.”
Shelby nodded, waiting.
“I told them to take him,” Case said.
“Good.”
“Neither one’s got a record and they both got jobs. The cops won’t shake them any.”
“You tell them to get him over to the place in Brooklyn.”
“Might take a while.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“You know, Mark, that loony isn’t going to stand still and be taken. If the cops knock him off ...”
“We don’t take any chances, you know that.”
“Hell, what could Shatzi know?”
Shelby made a sour face and shook his head. “Come off it, Case. They always know something and Verdun was close enough to the top so that things could rub off on even the punks. Supposing he always did have it in for Frank. Supposing he had been planning a shot like that and backed it up by grabbing some of Frank’s papers?”
“The Frenchman didn’t make notes, Mark.”
Over the drinks, Shelby’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the other. He was thinking of himself when he said, “You never can tell.”
“Guess you’re right.”
“Keep me informed. You going back downtown?”
“Yeah. Something else is stewing. That fucking Gill Burke is moving around after something and he’s got Lederer hopping mad. He put on pressure to get some people assigned to him and the D.A.’s office couldn’t stop it.”
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