The Fabulous Clipjoint by Fredric Brown (free ebook reader TXT) 📕

was his racket. Somehow he got to Wally and gave him a thousand bucks, more or less, to vote acquittal. He couldn’t have hoped for anything more than to split the jury and get a mistrial, from the evidence.

“Wally took it—and crossed him up. Wally had nerve, all right; he might have done that. Hell, he must have. He got about a thousand from somewhere. Right after the trial he uses part of it for an insurance policy—one big enough to carry Madge till you kids were through school. Then he lammed out of Gary and covered his trail so they couldn’t find him. I don’t know why he waited three weeks; there must have been something protected him for that long. Maybe they did hold Harry Reynolds for a while, intending him to get a stretch for perjury or as an accessory, then let him go. And with Harry loose, Wally would know he’d be gunned for.”

I asked, “Do you suppose Mom knew about it?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “She must have known part of it. My guess is she didn’t know much. We know he didn’t tell her about the insurance policy he took out. Maybe she didn’t know any of it. He could have told her he hit on a policy ticket to account for having extra dough. Maybe he let her think you were ducking Gary to run out on those old bills—he could have paid them without her knowing it.”

I said, “It doesn’t make sense, does it? He’s honest enough to pay bills he could have run out on, since he was running anyway, but still he takes money from gangsters for a bribe—”

“Ah, that’s the difference, kid. The way Wally’d figure it, it isn’t dishonest to cheat a crook. Hell, I don’t know if he was right or wrong about that; I don’t care. It took plenty of guts to take dough for a thing like that and not deliver.”

We didn’t talk much, riding back to Chicago.

In the Loop, we transferred to a Howard Express and got off at Grand. I said, “I better go home and take a bath and put on clean clothes. I feel sticky.”

Uncle Am nodded. He said, “Look, kid, we can’t keep on forever without sleeping, either. You do that and take a nap, too. It’s about two o’clock. Get a little sleep and come to the hotel around seven or eight. We’ll take a look at the Milan Towers this evening, but we don’t want to be dopey when we do it.”

At our place, I went on upstairs and Uncle Am kept on over toward the Wacker.

The door was locked and I had to let myself in with my key. I was just as glad nobody was home. I had a bath and was in bed within twenty minutes. I set my alarm for seven.

When it went off and woke me up, there were voices in the living room. I put on the rest of my clothes and went out there. Mom and Gardie were home and Bunny was with them. They had just finished eating, and Mom said, “Hello, stranger,” and wanted to know if I wanted to eat. I said I’d just get myself a cup and have coffee.

I got a cup and pulled up a chair. I couldn’t get over looking at Mom. She’d been to a beauty parlor, and she sure looked different. She had on a black dress, a new one, but it made her look better than I’d ever seen her. She had on a little make-up, but not too much.

Gosh, I thought, she’s really pretty when she’s fixed up.

Gardie looked pretty good, too. But her face got a little sullen when she looked at me. I had a hunch she was holding it against me about the wallet business, and my little scrap with Bobby Reinhart.

Bunny said, “They’re talking about going to Florida, Ed, as soon as they get the insurance money. I tell ‘em they ought to stay here, where they got friends.”

“Friends, nuts,” Mom said. “Who outside of you, Bunny? Ed, I hear you were in Gary this morning. Did you see the old place?”

I nodded. “Just from the outside.”

Mom said, “It sure was a dump. This flat’s bad enough, but it sure was a dump, in Gary.”

I didn’t say anything.

I put sugar and cream in the coffee Mom poured for me. It wasn’t very hot so I drank it right down. I said, “I got to meet Uncle Am. I can’t stay.”

Bunny said, “Gee, Ed, we were counting on you to play some cards. When we found you were home, Madge looked at your clock and found you were going to wake up at seven. We thought you’d stick around.”

I said, “Maybe I can bring Uncle Am back with me. I’ll see.”

I stood up. Gardie asked, “What are you going to do, Eddie? I don’t mean now, I mean in general. You going back to work?”

“Sure,” I said, “I’m going back to work. Why not?”

“I thought maybe you’d want to come to Florida with us, that’s all. You don’t, do you?”

I said, “I guess not.”

She said, “The money’s Mom’s. I don’t know if you know, but the policy was made out to her. It’s hers.”

Mom said, “Gardie!”

“I know that,” I said. “I don’t want any of the money.”

Mom said, “Gardie shouldn’t of put it that way, Ed. But what she means is you’ve got a job and everything, and I’ve got to finish putting her through school and—”

“It’s all right, Mom,” I told her. “Honest, I never even thought about wanting any of the money. I’m doing all right. Well, so long. So long, Bunny.”

Bunny called out, “Wait a second, Ed,” and joined me in the hall by the door. He pulled out a five-dollar bill. He said, “Bring your uncle over, Ed; I’d like to meet him. And bring some beer back with you. Out of this.”

I didn’t take the bill. I said, “Honest, Bunny, I can’t. I’d like you to meet him, but some other time. We got something to do this evening. We’re—well, you know what we’re trying to do.”

He shook his head slowly. He said, “There’s no percentage in it, Ed. You ought to let it lay.”

“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe you’re right, Bunny. But now we’re started; well, we’re going to see it through. It’s goofy I guess, but that’s the way it is.”

“Then how about letting me help?”

“You did. You helped plenty, getting that listing for us. If anything else comes up, I’ll let you know. Thanks a lot, Bunny.”

At the hotel, I found Uncle Am shaving with an electric razor plugged in beside his bureau mirror.

He asked, “Get sleep?”

“Sure, lots of it.” I took a look at his face in the mirror. It was a little puffy and his eyes were slightly red-rimmed. I said, “You didn’t, did you?”

“I started to, and Bassett came around and woke me up. We took each other around for a drink and pumped each other.”

“Dry?” I asked.

“I don’t know how dry I got him—I think he’s holding something back, but I don’t know what. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised, Ed, if he’s running a ring-tailed whizzer on us. But I can’t figure where.”

“And how did he do with you?”

“Not so bad. I told him about Gary, about the trial, about the extra dough Wally had—I gave him everything but the Milan Towers address and phone number. I got a hunch he’s holding back something more important than that.”

“As for instance?”

“I wish I knew, kid. Have you seen Madge?”

“She’s going to Florida,” I told him. “She and Gardie. Soon as they get the insurance.”

He said, “I wish ‘em luck. She’ll land on her feet, kid. That money won’t last her over a year, but she’ll have another husband by then. She’s still got her figure and—she was about six or seven years younger than Wally, if I remember right.”

“She’s thirty-six, I think.”

Uncle Am said, “Bassett and I had a drink or two and then I got rid of him and there wasn’t enough time left to sleep before you’d get here, so I went over and cased the Milan Towers. I made a start for us.”

He came over and sat on the bed, leaned back against the pillow. He said, “There’s a girl living alone in Apartment Forty-three. Name of Claire Raymond. Tasty dish, the bartender says. Her husband’s away; the bartender thinks they’re separated. He even thinks she got walked out on; but the rent’s paid till the end of the month so she’s staying there alone for that long, anyway.”

“Did you find out if—”

“Yeah, Raymond is Reynolds. He fits the description, anyway. And he’d been in the bar with a couple of friends that could be Dutch and Benny.”

“Benny?”

“The torpedo. I got his name from Bassett; Bassett had looked up what the cops had on them, and gave me some dope. Benny Rosso. Dutch’s last name is Reagan, if you can figure that out. None of them has shown at the Milan for about a week—that’d be from a day or two before Wally’s death.”

“Figure that means anything.”

He yawned. “I wouldn’t know. We’ll have to ask ‘em sometime. Well, I guess we might as well get going.” I said, “Relax a minute. I got to go down the hall.”

“Okay, kid. Don’t fall in.”

I went down the hall, and when I came back he was sound asleep.

I stood there a minute, thinking. He’d been doing nine-tenths of this by himself, with me playing tagalong. Didn’t I have the brains or nerve to do something by myself for once? Especially when he needed sleep and I didn’t.

I took a deep breath and let it out and said to myself, “Here goes nothing,” and I turned out the light.

I got out without waking him up, and I headed for the Milan Towers.