The Ink-Stained Trail - Chapter 9

When the curtains went up, it looked like I'd won a free trip into the room at the top of the stairs, with an aching head thrown in as a bonus. Not unusual for me. People give me sore skulls for gifts like everyday's my birthday. I was sitting in a plain wooden chair, with another man leaning back in a much nicer one a few feet in front of me. Older, grey taking residence in his sideburns and bushy mustache. Nice black suit, shiny boots. There was another fellow standing a few feet behind him. Much younger, nervous, wearing a sport coat, clutching his hat tightly in his hands. And the way his eyes kept flicking over my head, I was pretty sure there was one more person somewhere behind me.

The seated gent spoke first. "Well, Mr. Curtis, that's quite a fall you took. Good thing one of the customers saw you head downstairs, or you might have been there all night. Not good for a man's health, sleeping on a cold cellar floor."

His voice said he knew perfectly well that was a line of bull, but no point in calling him on it. "Yeah, my dear mother used to tell me the same thing. Guess I wasn't ready for the power of your drinks. No one's ever gonna accuse you of watering your booze." I tried for a grin, but couldn't feel my face well enough to tell ifit happened.

"Oh, I'm not the owner, but I'll be sure to pass your compliment along. Still, what were you doing in that cellar?"

At that question, he shifted position, leaning back a little more to drape his left arm over the back of the leather chair. His coat slid to the side, revealing part of a badge. Swell. I pretended I didn't notice. "I don't know. I don't remember going down there. If you aren't the owner, then - "

"Sheriff Thompson. The owner is a friend of mine." Meaning partner, which explains how the club operates so openly. Thompson's supply of coy ran out. "Let's be frank, Mr. Curtis. You were struck on the head. I'd ask if you had any enemies, but I imagine the line stretches clear back to town."

"Yeah, I'd hate to burden you with chasing down leads. I know how you cops hate doing your jobs." Thompson grinned coolly, but I noticed his right hand slide towards a long thing stick balanced across his legs. The young fellow tensed, and I got ready to roll with the hit that was coming, but his hand stopped. I don't know if he regained control of himself, or if he noticed I was expecting it and wanted the element of surprise, but either way, I was glad to miss out on it. My head was still swimming, and another belt wasn't going to help it come up for air.

"Thompson, let me speak with him." The man behind me speaks. Smooth, low, no hint of a rasp or twang like all the other voices I'd heard out here. I knew the voice, but didn't turn to confirm it. I wasn't giving Thompson an opening if I could avoid it.

Thompson regarded the man behind me, then me. He smiled a little, shrugged, and rose from the chair like he didn't want to leave it. "Suits me. Time I was gettin' home to the missus, anyway." he tipped his wide hat in my direction, and swaggered casually out the door, the younger fellow scurrying along behind him.

Now I turned to the other voice. "Charlie, how are you. Wouldn't have figured you for a country boy." Charlie used to be pretty high up in the Raccoon organization back home.

Charlie strolled around and settled into the chair Thompson had vacated. It suited him. He always had good taste in furnishings. "Well, I had to leave town after that thing with Alderman McShane got out." Vote fixing. I hadn't paid much attention, since someone was always getting a politician in their pocket. Why not Charlie Washington, I figured. I guess certain folks hadn't approved.

"Needed a change of scenery, huh? I know the impulse."

"You certainly do. I'm being a poor host. Would you care for a drink?" Charlie and me mostly got along. I didn't mess with his bunch any more than any other organized group. Which is to say, I did so just infrequently enough - and only when I was paid to - they didn't kill me in my sleep. Charlie and the other top dogs seemed to respect that. Why not? They operate on the notion a man's got to make a living somehow.

"As long as it has plenty of ice," I replied. "Are the rest of the guys here? Leon, Fast Willie, Bell?" Charlie froze a moment, ice cube held between two long fingers. Then he dropped it in the glass, and turned back to me, head shaking.

"No. When the story broke, I got tossed out for acting alone. Took all the blame, no one stuck by me. Don't know how you live like that." He handed me the drink. I immediately pressed it to my head.

"You either get used to not sleeping, or decide to sleep deep and take the chance you wake up again."

"Which do you favor?"

"Depends how well stocked my liquor cabinet is. These days, I'm not sleeping much."

"Oh, is that why your face always looks like that?" At least Charlie said it with a big, toothy grin.

"Naw, this is from passing out on your floor. You know what a clumsy lush I am. Normally the girls say I look like Valentino."

"That's the name of Ella Fitzgerald's dog, right?"

"Ha, ha."

"I'm not behind those food thefts, Milo. Anyone can put that insignia at a crime scene."

Charlie always did like to get serious suddenly. "Including you."

"Yes, but I'm not a part of the Raccoons any longer. I'm a legitimate, successful businessman now."

"How about 'law-abiding'?"

"As much as I can be. I said I was a successful businessman, not a destitute one."

"Fair enough. Your old gang hasn't expanded into the sticks? Less competition out here."

"Tell me about it. But no. If they have, nobody's approached me. I think you were on the right track looking into Maggie."

I didn't ask how Charlie knew what I'd been up to. Either Thompson kept him in the loop - since Charlie knew me and all - or he had other sources. Knowing Charlie, probably both. "And the Charlanes?"

Charlie looked thoughtful for a moment. "Not so sure about them. They're odd, but that doesn't mean they're crooks. Might be they like privacy. You ought to be used to people like that by now."

"Yeah, everyone gets that way around me."

"Maybe it's your coat. Looks like you're trying to sneak out with the family sliver.

I rose from my chair and set the glass aside. All the ice had melted, but my head felt a little better. "I'll keep it in mind."

Charlie followed me to the door. "Keep this next to it. If Maggie's involved, then it's probably not food she's after. Thompson made a few calls, at my suggestion. Back home, she's clean, but a lot her boys were mixed up in nasty business. Shootings, assassinations. I stick to bribery or blackmail. Murder's another matter entirely.

By now we'd moved downstairs to the main floor and towards the front entrance. The place was deserted, except for a few guys sweeping up. "No chance she's reformed them with her loving spirit then?"

Charlie snorted. "Those guys wouldn't follow her unless she's stronger than they are. You can't tell me you haven't noticed."

"I noticed," We'd reached my car. I turned to face him. "Thanks for the tip, Charlie. And the drink. Any reason you're being so helpful?"

Charlie grinned again. "I get you back on track, you don't wreck my place starting brawls to cover your snooping."

"It is a nice joint. 'Night, Charlie."