The Girl on the Rush Street Bridge
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 9: The Meijers of South Holland
part 2
Max came forward, climbed the few rickety porch steps and handed her the card. She scrutinized it for a moment, said, “Wait here,” and went back into the house. Max heard an exchange of words in a mixture of English and Dutch. After a minute or two, Mrs. Meijer returned with her husband.
Meijer was a big man, accustomed to hard labor, but his hangdog expression gave the impression of dissipated strength. He held Max’s card in his right hand; Max noticed a slight tremor. Meijer hesitated a moment before speaking: “So, you think you can get my money back?”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I’m here.”
“And how much will that cost?”
“Little or nothing on your part. What I need from you is cooperation and, of course, information.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” The wary eyes narrowed and sharpened with interest tinged with skepticism.
“I’ve got a big reputation in Chicago. Some people call me The Hawk.”
Meijer shook his head and smiled bitterly. “I heard of The Hawk, Mr. Niemand. Chicago’s run by crooked millionaires, gangsters, dirty politicians and greedy cops. You got a big reputation with them all, I suppose?”
“Yes, Mr. Meijer, I do, and that’s your best guarantee for my services. You see, I know where all the bodies are buried.”
Meijer eyed Max for a moment. Maybe, he thought, this guy can get my money back. Then: “What do you want from me?”
Max turned to Mrs. Meijer. “If you’ll excuse us, ma’am, what I have to say to your husband is strictly confidential. For the safety of your family, there are some things it’s better you don’t hear. Do you understand?”
She nodded. “I understand.” Then she returned to her housework without another word.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Max said “Do you have someplace private where we can talk?”
“Yeah. Follow me.”
Max followed Meijer around the house and down a weedy path to a padlocked toolshed. Meijer produced a key from his overalls pocket, opened the lock and led Max into the interior. There was a kerosene lamp on a work bench, but they did not need it. Enough light streamed in through chinks between the slats.
Meijer made a beeline for a dark corner, rummaged through some junk and retrieved a jug hidden under a tarp. He came back to Max, jug in hand, and said, “Want a snort?”
“Sure, thanks. But let’s keep it to one, OK? We got important business to discuss.”
Meijer nodded his agreement, pulled the cork, lifted the jug and took a long swallow. Then he coughed, wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and handed the jug to Max, who took a short one. Max handed the jug back to Meijer who replaced the cork and set down the jug. Meijer said, “Got to hide my liquor from the wife and kids. It’s a secret, OK?”
“Your secret’s safe with me. You ready to answer some questions?”
“I guess so. What do you want to know?”
“You went to Chicago to sell produce. Something went terribly wrong. I want to know what happened, from beginning to end. Don’t leave anything out.”
“It started out good. I sold out. Made more than a hundred bucks profit. A great day. I guess my first mistake was the jug.”
“That’s understandable. I take a drink at work, now and then. Did you drink a lot?”
“Yeah, too much. Guess I was already crocked when she came along. Prettiest girl I ever seen. Said her name was Miranda; Randi for short. She sure played me for a sucker.”
Miranda LeClair was Peg’s stage name. Max displayed no emotion as he listened to Meijer’s detailed description of a woman he had once loved. He could hide his feelings, but deep down there was pain, and working the case seemed like the only thing that could make that pain go away.
“She tried to get me into a poker game, but I still had too much sense for that. But she had a way with her. She said, ‘Let’s just have one little drink to celebrate your good fortune in the market.’” Meijer sighed. “I was such a fool, a damned fool. She called a boy to watch my horse and wagon, then she took me to that saloon. She talked me into giving her almost all my cash for ‘safe-keeping.’” His faced reddened; his eyes blazed with pent-up anger. His large, calloused hands clenched into fists. “The little bitch. If only I had her here, now, I’d—”
“The girl’s dead,” Max broke in. He stared at Meijer, silently, calmly.
“She’s dead? I didn’t know.” The angry expression changed to one of surprise.
“Didn’t the police tell you?”
“No.” He shook his head. “They said she was missing.”
“I see. We’ll get to the police later. What happened at the saloon?”
“We drank and talked, that’s all. I know it was wrong, but the liquor and the girl; I was tempted; I was weak.”
“I understand. What about the hundred bucks, the horse and wagon?”
“The girl had the money. I guess the boy took the horse and wagon. Anyways, I told that all to the cops.”
“Can you describe the boy?”
“A skinny little colored boy, about thirteen or fourteen, I guess.”
“Can you give me a better description?”
“I don’t know. They all look alike to me.” Meijer shrugged.
“OK. What happened after you left the saloon?”
Meijer continued his story to the point where he was sapped in the alley behind Sharkey’s. “Don’t remember nothing after I was knocked out until the cops picked me up and took me to the station.”
“All right. Let’s go back to where the police told you the girl was missing. Do you remember the policemen’s names?”
Meijer scratched his stubbly chin. “One fella was the boss, I think. His name was Miller, Muller—”
“Mueller?”
“Yeah, Mueller. That’s him.”
“There was another with him?”
“Yeah. Big Irishman. Didn’t say much. Don’t recall his name.”
“Can you describe him? Approximate height, weight, hair color, that sort of thing.”
Meijer gave a description that fit Mike Sugrue.
“Where did they question you?”
“Dirty little room. No windows; no air. Smelled like an outhouse.”
“Was there anyone else you talked to besides Mueller and the big Irishman?”
“No.”
“Did you tell them you wanted to file a complaint?”
“Yeah. But Mueller said I was in trouble for drunk and disorderly conduct. I could go to jail or pay a fine, and I’d have a record. Better to forget the whole thing. Then they’d let me go.”
“So, you took the deal and went home without your hundred bucks, the horse and wagon?”
“Yeah. The wife gave me hell, but what could I do? You know Chicago. Unless you got pull with people who fix things, you’re nobody, nothing.”
“Is there anything else you want to tell me? Better get it out now.”
Meijer shook his head. “No, sir. That’s all.” He looked Max in the eye. “Can you really help me?”
“I think so. I’ll try to get your hundred bucks. Forget the horse and wagon. They’re gone. But I’ll try to get the cash equivalent. OK?”
“Yes, sir. All right. Thank you.”
“Now listen up. This is important. If someone, and I mean anyone asks about me, just say I offered my services and you said no. You got that?”
“All right, but I don’t understand.” Meijer seemed bewildered. Max would need to enlighten him.
“You remember what you said about the folks who run Chicago, dirty, crooked, greedy and all. Well, those are the people I’ll be dealing with. You follow?”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. So, don’t tell anyone about our arrangement, including your wife. At least, not until I tell you it’s OK. As for trying to contact me, don’t, unless it’s absolutely necessary. Communicating won’t be easy. I didn’t see any telephone line to your home, so I assume you don’t have a phone?”
“No, we don’t. There’s a phone at the general store in town I can use.”
“Too many people could listen in, including the operator. Same problem with a telegram. There’s a way around that; a coded message. What’s your wife’s first name?”
“Jenny.”
“All right. In an emergency, you can send this message to my office by phone or wire: ‘Jenny’s ill. Send doctor.’ You got that?”
“‘Jenny’s ill. Send doctor.’ Got it.”
“If you send that message, either I or an operative will come out here as soon as possible. I’m afraid that’s the best we can do.”
“Seems like a lot of fuss. You expect trouble?”
“There’s always trouble in my line of work, but I try to minimize the risk.”
“Well, I guess it’s worth it to me, Mr. Niemand. We can sure use that money.”
Max and Meijer shook hands and took one more pull on the jug to seal the deal. Then Meijer returned his “secret” to its hiding place. They exited the shed, Meijer locked the door, and escorted Max to the gate.
On the way out, Max said, “I was surprised you don’t have a dog. I thought all farmers had dogs.”
“I had a dog. Good dog. His name was Wolf. But he got rabies, so I shot him. It’s been that kind of year.”
Proceed to Chapter 10
Copyright © 2018 by Gary Inbinder
