When they leave I read through the article in the paper. Unsurprisingly nothing much stands out. My two takeaways are that the apartment building is in the Pinks territory and that Detective Spirino is working the case. I top off my coffee and go back to my office. I’m not sure how easy it’s going to be for me to get the police report so I call Brian to see if he can grease the skids for me. It takes a while for Brian to pick up and I almost cut the connection when he finally answers. He says he’s been pretty busy since the promotion. I ask him about Spirino and Brian says he’s a straight shooter and that he’s on shift today. I ask if he can pull the report and he says that he should have something for me by the afternoon.
My quiet day in the office catching up on paperwork has really taken an abrupt about face. I check my watch and decide to call Mrs. Jefferson. If she’s home I can get the preliminary work done now before heading out and maybe I’ll stop at a pawn shop or two on the way to Evie’s. Mrs. Jefferson is a retired baker. She had been baking cookies for the neighbors and ran out of her apartment for just a minute to deliver them a few doors down. When she came back to her apartment she found her plates were gone.
Seems like a silly thing to steal, so to me it sounds like a crime of opportunity. More than that it strikes me as someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing. Maybe a kid, knows she’s a baker, assumes the plates must be expensive? Could be a jealous neighbor who resents having to “compete” against a professional baker? But why steal plates then, it’s not going to keep her from baking. She describes the plates, white with a gold rim and a pink floral pattern. Gives me something to start with although I probably should stop by there and see if she’s got a picture of the plates.
I make a half assed attempt at straightening my desk when the phone rings again and after a short exchange Janice pokes her head in again and tells me that the lawyer for the stolen car case called to remind me I have a deposition in three days. I scratch out a note on the first blank piece of paper I can find and thank her. Some meathead stole his girlfriend’s car and thought he’d be able to hide it. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, that one.
It’s getting on towards lunch so I figure it’s about time to head over to Evie’s place, our old place. I tell Janice that I won’t be back today so she should lock up when she’s done and not to stay too late. On the way I stop at Evie’s favorite hot dog place and pick up a sack of dogs and a couple of coffees. When I get there she still looks kind of withdrawn but she perks up when she sees that I brought lunch from her favorite place.
It’s weird being here. I’ve only been back here a few times since the divorce. Mostly Evie and I antagonize each other down at the Glow and I see her there often enough. I take the place in, unconsciously assessing it with an investigator’s eyes. All the pictures hanging on the walls are of her, nobody else. There’s also an absolutely beautiful painting of her that was the focal point of the room. It kinda hit me then, taking it all in, how lonely she must be. For all her flash and bluster and talent, she was alone and maybe she has been since she left.
The realization hits me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken and sets my mind wandering to places better left alone. Instead I focus on the fireplace and the low crackle of the fire and then ask if she wants me to read the letter. She shakes her head gently and tells me that she thinks she can read it, she just needed me here for support. I nod, what else am I going to do?
She gets up from the couch to retrieve the letter and then sits back down, slowly opening it. She silently reads the letter and there’s a storm of emotions that cloud her face. Pain and heartbreak turn to anger and finally a single tear leaves a glistening trail down her cheek as she chokes back a sob.. She stands and throws the letter into the fireplace before bursting into tears.
I move to her as she drops onto the couch, wrapping her in a protective embrace. I whisper consoling platitudes trying to take her hurt away. I never did like to see Evie cry. She pulls away and wipes at her eyes, tears like diamonds on her lashes. I reach out and cup the side of her face, wiping a tear away with my thumb. We lock eyes and she tells me that I’m a good man. I sit there frozen, my hand on her face as she reaches her hand behind my head and leans forward pulling me into a kiss.
Time stops and I lose myself, surrounded by the scent of Evie’s perfume and the taste of her kiss. She releases me and straightens up, a small smile curling the corner of her lips. I stammer for a moment before blurting out
“What was that? Uh, this was a mistake.”
And then that small smile turns into a scowl as storm clouds darken her face. Evie stands turning away from me and begins murmuring to herself more than talking to me. Then she shouts, “It was a mistake! Why did you even come?”
I’m dumbfounded. “You asked me to come, I stammer. “The letter? Look, I should probably go.” I say as I grab my hat and stand to leave.
“Yes you should go, just like you always do.” She pulls open the door and we lock eyes. Hers hurt and angry, mine conflicted and confused. The moment passes and as I go the door slams shut behind me.
I stand there for a moment not sure what I’m feeling. Absently I shake a Lucky Strike out of its crumpled pack. Lighting it with Billioti’s lighter I take a steadying drag. I snap the lighter closed and drop it in my pocket as I step towards the curb, arm raised for a taxi. A car pulls up and the driver leans over the seat, “Where to Mack?”
To which I reply, “Anywhere but here.”
In reality I’m headed down towards Mrs. Jefferson’s apartment building. I figure some kid snatched her plates and dumped them at one of the pawn shops close to the building for a quick buck. There’s three of them in this area: C&B, Jerry’s and Pawn for Less. My first thought is to go to C&B since it’s the sketchiest of the three but I can tell as soon as I get there that it’s not the place. It’s in shambles with boxes and goods stacked precariously all about the store. There’s no rhyme or reason to it that I can see. I’ve seen places in France that looked better than this during the war.
I ring the bell and this disheveled looking guy comes out. I ask if he’s got any plates for sale. He says sure and starts digging though some boxes in the corner. He pulls out some nondescript clay plates and tries giving me the sales spin. I tell him I’m looking for something a little more fancy and he starts digging in another box on a different side of the room. He pulls out one plate and tries to sell me that for $.75. I ask if he’s had anything come in recently and he says no and that it’s been kinda slow. He says I should leave my number and he’ll call me if anything comes in but when I tell him I’ll stop back in we both know that he won’t see me again.
Next up is Pawn for Less. I’ve never been in here before and I’m pleasantly surprised to find a neat, clean, well organized store. I do a slow circuit around the store and at first I don’t see what I’m looking for. When I head to the front desk to ring the bell however I see two sets of plates displayed on the wall. I ring the bell and a kindly older woman ambles out of the back offering apologies. We make a little bit of chit chat and then she asks what she can help me with. I point to the plates with the gold trim and tell her I’m interested in them.
She tells me I have a good eye and begins describing the provenance of the plates. They were made in China at a specific time and a certain area. The trim is made with a higher quality of gold as compared to some others. I nod along amiably asking questions and generally seeming interested. When she finally finishes her dissertation I ask how much. Forty five bucks she says. Despite the incredible level of detail she’s provided me I’m still surprised at how much they are. I tell her as much but she says that’s a really good price, half of what they book for. She even shows me the listing in her trade journal. Which by the way is a cool $75 samoleans.
I ask her who would turn in such a beautiful set of dishes which are clearly a family heirloom. She looks at me a little funny but when I smile she softens up and says that a young kid came in looking down on his luck. She felt sorry for him so she bought the dishes. Now I could get the cops involved since she bought stolen merchandise but she mentioned earlier that things have been slow. See if the cops come down she’ll lose the dishes without compensation and things haven’t been bad for me so I tell her I’ll take ‘em.
When she comes back with a ladder I offer to go up and grab them but she says she put them up there so she can get them down. I wait patiently as she boxes everything up. Once she finished she says that I should just display them instead of using them. I laugh and tell her she’s probably right. We bid each other a warm goodbye and I tell her that I’ll be recommending her shop and it’s good deals.
Loaded down with my newly acquired treasure I take another cab the rest of the way to Mrs. Jefferson’s apartment building. When I ring the bell she buzzes me right up and doesn’t even ask who I am. A pleasant older woman answers my knock and she asks who I am. I tell her it’s George Armstrong and that I have her plates. She’s quite surprised since we only just spoke this morning. She punches my shoulder and asks if I put the ne’er do wells in their place. I laugh and tell her that they won’t bother anyone anymore. No need to tell her the truth, she got the plates back and that’s what’s important.
I do tell her to be careful though and make sure she locks her door. Then I tell her that Janice brought me the case and not to worry about payment. It’s all in a day’s work I say. She puts up a fuss and says that somebody is going to be getting paid and that she’d be making a load of pies. I laugh and rub my stomach and say as long as Janice brings a few to the office that’d be fine. She sees me out and closes the door. As I turn to get into the elevator I see her door slowly fall open and I can only shake my head as the elevator doors close and the bell dings.
It’s just about 5p so I decide to head home and freshen up before meeting Jane. I put on the radio and a pot of coffee before changing my shirt and grabbing a new tie. My stomach grumbles so I throw a steak in the cast iron pan with a bit of bacon fat. Might as well eat something now I figure. As I’m pouring myself a cup of coffee I suddenly realize that I never stopped by the station to meet with Brian.
I grab the phone and quickly dial the precinct. It rings for a long time before it’s answered by Detective Patterson. I tell him who I am and ask if Brian is still there. He says that Brian may have just left but covers the phone and I hear him yell out for him. After a long minute Brian picks up the phone. I offer my apologies and tell him I got caught up with a case. He seems relatively nonplussed but he breaks my balls all the same. I suppose I deserve it, I did completely forget after all. I ask if he was able to pull the report on the fire for me but he says that Spirino has the file and he’s working on the case. He says he might be able to bribe him with a few crullers but I tell him to wait a few days and see what Spirino comes up with.
As I hang up the phone I realize that my steak is burning. I pull the steak off the burner and fling open the window. So much for medium rare……..
When I get to the Glow I’m feeling pretty good. It feels like there’s a buzz in the air. Paul Stevenson and the Gib are on stage and he’s up there growling out the blues. I see Jane sitting over at the bar with someone and it looks like she started without me. I walk over and slip my arms around her, giving her a peck on the cheek. She squeals and sways slightly on her stool. Jane exclaims that she’s sitting with her new best friend, despite the fact she can’t remember her name.
The woman introduces herself as Jospehine before taking her leave. I slide into the vacated stool and Jane orders me a drink. She’s definitely been having a good time and she rambles happily if disjointedly from topic to topic. Then she says she spoke to Evie today and I stiffen. I down the rest of my whiskey and order another. She tells me that Evie said I was a good man and that she thinks she could be good friends with Evie. She says Evie’s always really nice to her. I tell Jane that she’s a really nice person and she could be friends with anybody and if she wanted to be friends with Evie that’d be fine. Maybe a little weird for me but hey as long as we all get along.
Crisis averted, at least for now, I sit and enjoy Jane’s drunk ramblings until Carol comes onstage. There’s a bit of a murmur as she walks up to the microphone. I guess I haven’t been paying too much attention as of late but Carol looks, well she looks bad. She’s very gaunt and pale. Her eyes are kind of sunken and she has black circles under her eyes. It was pretty clear she was doing the coke before but it must have really taken a toll on her. Marcus’s death didn’t help I’m sure. I can’t help but feel bad for her.
When she steps up to the mic and begins to sing though it sounds like the same old Carol. She was never as good as Evie but she’s a solid number 2. The first two songs aren’t familiar to me and I cast a glance at Jane after each to see if it’s her song. Jane is waiting with rapt attention and then Carol launches into Jane’s song.
It’s amazing. Not only is Jane’s song superb but Carol absolutely crushes it. The song is called A Flower in the Park and it’s about growth and change. The lyrics are thoughtful and engaging without being sappy. There’s a roar of applause and Carol takes on a little glimmer of what she once was. She bows towards Jane who acknowledges her with clasped hands. As Carol heads off stage towards the dressing room she trips and falls dispelling the glamor that had surrounded her. A few people rush to help her up and she’s whisked backstage.
Jane is really stoked even through her drunken haze. She says she wants to talk with Stern, owner of the Glow, about helping her out. I tell her it’s a good idea but to wait until tomorrow so she’s on the top of her game. While we’re talking about her song I feel someone tap me on the shoulder. I turn to see a big guy in a black suit giving me the once over. My first thought is maybe this is another one of DeLuca’s goons but this guy looks too stiff and that doesn’t make me feel any better. I stand, placing myself between him and Jane and ask who he is. Without any fanfare he pulls back his suit coat to reveal a badge.
“Ace Johnson, FBI. Let’s go outside and talk.”
My mind jumps into overdrive and I need a moment to collect my thoughts. I turn back to the bar and fish a dollar outta my pocket. Sliding it across the polished surface of the bar I tell the bartender, “Two coffees, black.” Then I lean towards Jane and tell her that this guy has information on the case I’m working on and I have to talk with him. Lucky for me she’s not a clingy or argumentative drunk. I give her a kiss on the head as she strikes up a new conversation with Josephine who happened to be walking by.
Gesturing to Agent Johnson I say. “After you.” We walk outside and I take my new friend by the elbow and lead him away from the door, down the sidewalk a bit. I light a cigarette and take a deep drag to steady my nerves. Whatever this guy wants can’t be good for me. I’m a little fish in a really big pond and the best way for me to get by is to not be noticed. It feels like Agent Johnson is sizing me up and then he begins to speak.
He says that he needs my help and that I’m a piece of the puzzle. I say that surely the FBI doesn’t need a two bit detective helping them on a case and he retorts by saying that I’ve been pretty busy as of late. He’s got the upper hand on me and I don’t like it. He seems to know all about me and honestly it gets my dander up. We’re both being cagey but I get the sense that he’s just playing with me. He is with the FBI after all. Then he drops all pretense along with Deluca’s name. He says I have some interesting friends and he needs me to do something.
I feign ignorance and he counters by saying that I seem to know a lot of bad people including those who are close to me. It feels like a threat and I tell him he’s shaking me down just like the mob. I tell him I served my country and I’m just trying to get by. My gut feeling is that he wants me to somehow get involved with the mafia in town and I want no part of that and tell him so.
He passes me his card, Ace Johnson Lead in charge of the organized crime unit for the FBI. He says, “You think things over and then you call me.” I take another deep drag and slowly exhale the smoke in his face while pocketing the card. I say, “As you know I’m a pretty busy guy. Maybe if I get the time I’ll give you a call.” Then I turn on my heel and walk back towards the Glow. As I’m walking away I hear Johnson say, “Yeah, you do that.”
When I get back inside I’m feeling out of sorts. Jane is still two sheets to the wind but she’s switched to the coffee I ordered for us. She doesn’t notice the change in my demeanor and we wind up hanging at the Glow for a while longer before heading back to Jane’s place.
Wednesday October 8th
I’m up before Jane. I lay there staring at the ceiling running different scenarios through my mind, none of them good. The Abram case is a potential minefield since the police already have an open investigation. Things down at the precinct seem to have been straightened out for the most part so I’m not looking to butt heads with anybody. New enemies down there are something I don’t need. Hopefully this Detective Spirino is going to be amenable to sharing information. I just hope I’m not in over my head. Potential arson and murder is no small thing.
Then to complicate matters I have this Agent Johnson leaning on me. It feels like he’s going to get me backed into a corner and I’m honestly not sure how I’ll respond. I’d lay odds that it’s probably not well. Surely the FBI has the resources at their disposal to take on organized crime. What the hell could he possibly want me for? An easy in? Sure he doesn’t care if he blows up what I have going on here as long as he gets his man. I wonder if he’s bucking for some kind of promotion. I’ve met plenty of guys like that. Do anything to anybody as long as they get ahead.
What finally drives me outta bed is an urgent need to hit the head. Thus relieved, I push all of those distracting thoughts out of my mind and focus on making breakfast. I set the coffee to percolate on the stove and then mix up a few eggs and start frying up some bacon. Jane stirs and she’s a little worse for wear. She staggers into the kitchen berating herself and apologizing for letting things get out of hand. I just laugh and tell her she was a fun drunk and she’s got nothing to worry about. When I ask her if she wants some eggs, she gets a bit green around the gills and runs for the bathroom. I call out from the kitchen over a pause in her retching, “So, just toast then?”
She eventually makes her way back out and sits down heavily at the table. I slide two pieces of dry toast in front of her and then move behind her to rub the knots out of her shoulders. We talk about last night starting with Agent Johnson.
“You didn’t seem like you wanted to talk to that guy.” Jan says around a small bite of toast.
“Well you know”, I say, “We were having a good time and I didn’t want to leave you alone. Work is work though so I had to talk with him.”
“Was it helpful at least?”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to see how it plays out.” It’s not really a lie I tell myself. It probably does have to do with work, just not this current case. “You know, I really liked your song last night. Carol did a real good job with it.”
Jane perks up. “Did you really like it?”
“Yeah, yeah, it was real pretty. You did a great job!”
“I wound up talking to Mr. Stern and he wants me to write some more songs.”
Considering the state Jane was in last night I’m a little surprised. She definitely wasn’t in the right state for negotiation. “Hey, you make sure you get every dime outta him. Don’t take no guff from ‘em.”
Jane laughs, seeming more like herself. “He’s kinda cheap but I know what I’m worth. Don’t you worry.”
I laugh too. I’m glad she’s coming around. There’s too much on my plate for me to play nursemaid today and besides she said she’s gotta work tonight. We talk about Carol and the downward spiral she seems to be on. Jane said people at the club tried talking to her but she’s hooked on that cocaine pretty hard it seems. Damn shame, she seemed like a nice kid. Jane eventually stands and declares she needs to get in the shower and I ask if she needs a hand. Without missing a beat she says she might need two. Needless to say I’m late getting to the office.
When I get to the office Janice gives me a bemused grin and asks if I had a late night. I chuckle and tell her Jane and I had a late night at the Glow. We chat for a few minutes and I pour myself a cup of coffee. Then she tells me I have a message from Agent Johnson who said I should call back at my earliest convenience. I thank her and tell her I have his information already before heading into my office. I may wind up calling Johnson but it’s not going to be right now.
Instead I call Paul Blanker the journalist I met at the fights a few months back. He had the byline on the story I read about the fire and he just might have some useful information. Paul picks up and we exchange a few pleasantries before I ask him about the fire. To his credit he cuts right through the bullshit and gets down to business. He tells me three things need to happen. This needs to be off the book, we have to meet in person and he expects to be compensated.
I ask him if he wants to grab some lunch and he suggests Deangelo’s on the upper east side. Says they have the best reubens in town. I’m somewhat partial to a reuben myself so I agree. I glance at my watch and ask him what time he wants to meet. He suggests 1215 which seems oddly specific but with that out of the way we hangup. It’s a little after 10a so I figure that’s just enough time for me to head over to JJ’s apartment building and poke around. I’d really like to talk to this Dubie fella.
When the cab pulls up to the address, I have to admit I’m somewhat surprised. I mean I knew there was a fire but the place looks like it’s been condemned. The structure itself is only five stories so I figure it must be an older building. There is clearly no one around and there’s police tape cordoning off the entrance. From the outside it looks like the fire started low and crept up to scorch the third story.
Since there’s no one hanging around I figure I’ll go in and poke around a little bit. No harm no foul I figure. The ground floor is completely trashed. The smell of damp firewood hangs heavily in the air. I carefully pick my way towards the basement stairs eager to get a look in the basement. Luckily the steps are made of stone but as I descend I hear an ominous creaking overhead. I’m sure it’ll be fine.
Unsurprisingly it’s even worse down here. The boiler is slagged and its gauges melted so nothing to be gleaned there. I don’t see anything that stands out. No empty gas cans, no smell of accelerant or the like. While I’m looking around I hear something upstairs and then a voice.
“WHO’S DOWN THERE?”
Fucking great. I try to move quietly around a corner hoping that whoever it is will just go away but I hear footsteps on the stairs. Before I can get myself fully hidden a tall man in a suit reaches the bottom stair and sees me. “Who are you? What are you doing down here?”
Sheepishly I raise my hands and say, “Detective Spirino?
I tell him who I am and why I’m here but he doesn’t care. He’s as mad as a hatter. We leave the basement with him lecturing me all the way. When we get outside I give him one of my cards and I can see him making the connection. He still gives me a ration of shit for what I did. He says he’s willing to work with me if I do what he says and don’t go traipsing off on my own. I agree to work within certain boundaries if that means nobody’s feathers get ruffled. Besides at this point I’ve got nothing to go on other than some mysterious occupant of Apt 3C.
Spirino tells me I can take him out to dinner tonight at Ramone’s Steakhouse and he’ll bring along the file but we have to work together. He also wants me to bring something to the table so I’m hoping that Blanker has something good to share. Even if it is off the record. I get a little twinkle in my eye and I ask Spirino what time I should pick him up for dinner. He shakes his head and tells me to meet him at 8p since he likes to eat dinner late.
Then he gets a wry grin and says, “Now don’t take this the wrong way but I’m going to need you to fuck off now.”
I take that as my cue to leave and consider myself lucky that I got away with just a tongue lashing and the promise of collaboration.
I make it just in time for my meeting with Paul Blanker. Despite the slight chill in the air he’s sitting outside at a table with a cup of coffee. We shoot the shit for a while before getting down to business. It’s like a dance. Each of us feeling out the other to see how much they can be trusted. I guess Paul doesn’t know quite how to read me because he remains pretty cagey but I slide a five across the table to loosen him up.
He says he’s got a contact who wears blue, which I can only assume is Spirino since it’s his case. I just nod. No sense in giving away too much. I tell Paul that I’m working for Clairice Abram. He hasn’t talked with her which I suppose makes sense. Why would she want to talk with the press? I ask if he’s looked into the family at all to see if JJ had any debts or anything else unusual going on. As far as he could find everything seemed to be on the up and up. JJ’s son was taking over the business and managing the catalog. He’s been a business guy in the industry. Malcolm started performing more as JJ moved toward retirement. He actually performs at the Cotton Club on the third Thursday of every month.
Paul confirms that there may have been a second fire started. I tell him that there could have been someone squatting in an apartment on the third floor. He says that Arnold Dubie is staying with his son Gregory and that he lives in town. That’s a great bit of information I think to myself. Half the reason I went over to the apartment building in the first place was to talk with Dubie. Paul also says that one of the tenants thought that they may have seen a pink scarf. We unpack that nugget for a bit. It seems unlikely that a street gang would burn down a building. Things have definitely heated up recently and they have graduated to murder but against the police specifically. Not that that makes it better but this would seem completely out of character for them. Somebody planting a red herring then?
Paul stands to take his leave. I tell him I’ll keep in touch and he beats feet leaving me to pick up the tab. That’s alright the rubens were good and the information even better. I sit for a little while longer sipping my coffee and mulling things over before finally making my way to a payphone to try and track down one Mr. Gregory Dubie.
The operator comes back with two possibilities for me. One is Greg Dubie and the other is Gregory Dubie. Figuring a man’s name is how he presents himself to the world, I try Gregory first. An old man answers and I ask for Gregory. He asks me to hold on while he gets him and then I ask if I’m speaking to Arnold Dubie. He seems kind of confused but says that it is and I introduce myself.
I tell him that I’d like to ask him a few questions. He seems like he’s kind of ready to answer when I hear a voice in the background. Arnold half covers the phone and starts talking with his son, who I might add, sounds somewhat irate. Gregory takes the phone from his dad and immediately takes an aggressive stance.
I do my best to try and placate him, explaining who I am and the reason for my call. He says his dad is in a bad way and has a weak heart. He says that he’s surprised that the fire didn’t kill him. I offer my apologies and make a bit of small talk trying to win him over. He finally relents and allows me to talk with his dad but tells me not to upset him.
Arnold tells me that he was taking a nap when the fire started. His neighbor, a young woman by the name of Josie Penelope, woke him up and got him to safety. I ask him about the man in apartment 3C. Arnold says that he goes for a walk sometimes and that he’s seen a guy coming and going from apartment 3C. He thinks the man is a squatter but he’s seen him with a key. The mystery man dresses like a vagrant but has shiny black shoes.
Josie told the landlord about it but every time the room was checked the man would be gone. No one has been renting the room. When asked if he could describe the man Arnold said that he was short and squat. He wore a hat and had a small beard and maybe wore glasses. He felt like the man could have been acting.
I thank Arnold for his time and he says he’s tired now and abruptly hangs up. I kick myself for not asking what race the mystery man was. I don’t really think in those terms but when you’re trying to find someone it’s important to know. I suppose I can always call back later. For now I need to check in with Claire and then try and figure out how to find Josie.