The Girl on the Rush Street Bridge
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 14: Joey and Conrad
Joey entered the main lobby of the Grand Pacific Hotel. This was a vast colonnaded space lit during the day by a skylight and in the evening by numerous electric lamps. The waiting area was elegantly furnished with imitation eighteenth-century chairs, couches and tables. The place bustled with activity at all hours, it being one of Chicago’s premier hotels serving first-class business travelers, celebrities and well-to-do families.
Joey halted near a column not far from the busy front desk and scanned the area. It wasn’t long before he spotted Conrad Vogel, the house detective. “Con” was hard to miss; he was six feet, four inches tall, about two hundred and twenty pounds, dressed in a well-tailored brown worsted three-piece suit. His derby hat was placed rakishly askew on his handsome blond head. His sharp blue eyes were active, always on the lookout for suspicious individuals and especially alert when it came to attractive women, whether they were suspicious or not.
Conrad was jawing with the bell captain. They were discussing women; a very fashionable specimen having just passed the captain’s station. For the most part, they liked what they saw, but the bell captain wondered how many birds had been sacrificed to provide plumage for the young lady’s enormous chapeau. Con replied, “I wasn’t lookin’ at her hat.” He glanced across the room to see if he could find another elegant female worthy of their attention and saw Joey instead. He grinned and walked over to greet his pal.
“Hey, Joe,” Conrad said as he held out his hand. “What brings you to our grand establishment? Work or pleasure?”
“A bit of both,” Joey said as they shook hands. “I’m on a job, but it’s always a pleasure to get together with my old buddy.”
“Bullshit,” Conrad said. “The last time you had the pleasure, you took me for twenty bucks at the pool table. I want my revenge.”
OK, Con,” Joey said with a smile, “just name the time and place.”
“How about Saturday night at Otto’s?”
“You’re on. Now, as to the business. Max has a new client, Mary O’Neill. She’s staying here, and we’re making some discreet inquiries about her. We’d like your help.”
Conrad drew closer and lowered his voice. “Room number and description?”
Joey provided a detailed description and the room number.
Conrad’s eyes lit up. “I know her. Sort of the girl next door type, but not bad. Does Max think she’s into something hinky?”
Joey shrugged. “Not necessarily. We’d just like to know a bit more about her. Does she have any visitors at the hotel? Any communications, phone calls, letters, messages, telegrams, that sort of thing.”
“All the specifics?”
Joey nodded. “Yeah, if you can provide them.”
“That’s all, huh?” Conrad shook his head and grinned. “You wanna search her room, too?”
Joey ignored the sarcasm. “Not now, Con. Maybe later, depending on what we turn up.”
“That’s risky, pal. I like my job. Max better have a good reason for this request before I start spying on one of the guests.”
“You can rest assured he does.”
Conrad eyed Joey seriously for a moment before saying, “All right, Joe. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks, Con,” Joey said with a relieved smile. They shook hands. Joey added, “See you Saturday night at Otto’s?”
“See you there, pal. And be prepared to lose the dough you won off me... and then some!”
* * *
Joey returned to the office and started shooting the breeze with Rosie, who was on her lunch break. Max entered about ten minutes later. The chatter stopped.
“Joe, we need to talk.” Then Max turned to Rosie. “You getting that information on the Lady of the Lake?”
“I’m working on it,” she said.
Max nodded and looked back at Joey. “Come on,” he said. “We ain’t got all day.”
“Right, boss,” Joe answered. He got up from his perch on the edge of Rosie’s desk and followed Max into the inner office. Rosie returned to her typing and filing.
Max went to his desk, opened a drawer and took out his office bottle and two glasses; he placed them on the desktop and said, “After what I saw this morning, I need a stiff one. Want to join me?”
“Sure, boss. Thanks.” Joey didn’t want the drink but, considering the boss’s dark mood, he guessed he’d better join him.
Max poured the shots, downed his and handed a glass to Joey. Then Max set down the empty glass, and leaned forward over the desk with his hands folded. Joey took a sip of liquor and waited for his boss to speak.
“You got anything on Frank Olson?”
“Yeah. Frankie skipped town; my source says no one knows where he went. He just picked up all of a sudden and blew.”
“I’m shocked.”
“Anyways, you want me to stay on it?”
“No, Olson’s good for nothing but bait. I got other means of catching the big tuna. How did things go with Con?”
“Swell, boss. Con’s a stand-up guy. He’ll get the lowdown on Miss O’Neill, I’m sure.”
“Good.” Max paused a moment before adding, “I want all the information we can get. I still need to call my contact in Indianapolis to get some dope on the family. Now, I’m going to take you into my confidence. You’re not to talk to anyone about what I’m about to tell you, not even Rosie. You follow?”
Joey nodded. “Yes, boss. I understand.”
“OK. You know Abe Levitsky?”
“Yeah, I know the guy. He’s a reliable tipster.”
“Well, now he’s a reliably dead tipster. An apparent suicide by hanging. I just got back from the scene. Mueller and Big Mike took me for a look-see; Sid Eisenberg from the coroner’s office was there, too. What’s more, Rosie took a call from Levitsky when I was out of the office; the call was marked urgent. I doubt he would’ve called me if he intended to bump himself off.”
“You think someone iced Levitsky?”
“I’m certain of it. Problem is finding out who and why.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“Not really, but I have an idea. Levitsky gave me information about Bob O’Neill, Dan Buford and two mysterious ‘gents’. I don’t think he told me everything he knew. On the other hand, he might have gotten more dope and wanted to sell it to me. Regardless, before I could get back to him, I figure someone shut him up permanently and made it look like suicide.
“What’s more, the cops and the coroner’s office could be involved in a cover-up, the first case involving Peg Rooney and the second, Levitsky. Worse yet, someone may be sending me a message: ‘Back off or you’re next.’ And I got a suspicion who those two gents might be.”
The phone rang in the outer office. Rosie buzzed Max. “It’s Miss O’Neill,” she said. “Do you want me to put her through?”
“Yeah, thanks.” He signaled Joey to keep quiet and picked up the call. “Hello, Miss O’Neill. I assume you got my message?”
“Yes,” she answered, her voice agitated. “I need to see you at once. I want to know what happened at the meeting in the Forest Preserves. And that’s not all; I’m certain I’m being followed.”
“Are you calling from your room?”
“Yes.”
“Can you describe the individual who’s following you?”
She provided a description that matched the young man who had accompanied Milt Ritter to the meeting place in Thatcher Woods.
“Where and when did you last see him?”
“In the hotel lobby, just a few minutes ago.”
“Please stay where you are. I’ll be right over.” She agreed; Max hung up.
“Joey, I’m going to the hotel to see if I can spot this bird. Phone Con. Tell him I’m coming over.” He gave Joe a brief description of the young man to give to Conrad.
“Right, boss.”
Max holstered his .38, grabbed his hat from the coat rack and took off without another word.
* * *
Max entered the hotel’s main lobby; he glanced around and then walked casually to a column near the grand staircase, a place from where he could scan the large hall without being noticed. He spotted the young man occupying a couch in the waiting area not far from the front desk. The man was smoking a cigarette and thumbing through magazines while trying to look inconspicuous.
Max saw Conrad exiting an elevator. Conrad stopped near the newspaper stand, picked up a paper and then headed toward the bell-captain’s station. Max got Conrad’s attention and signaled him to act as though he did not recognize his old pal. Conrad got the hint and continued on toward the bell captain while Max drifted in the same direction.
They met up at the front desk before Conrad reached the captain’s station. Max greeted him and said, “Joe phoned you a few minutes ago. Did you get the call?”
“Nope. I was just about to check for messages.”
“Never mind. See the spiffy young dude in the waiting area? He’s smoking and acting like he’s reading a magazine.”
“Yeah, I see him,” Conrad said.
“Have you noticed him hanging around here recently?”
“I’ve seen him once or twice. Is he trouble?”
“Could be. I think he’s tailing one of my clients, the one Joey talked to you about this morning.”
“Do you want me to roust him?”
“Not yet. I’m going up to see my client; I won’t be long. Keep an eye on him. I’ll call you at the front desk when I’m ready to leave. I’ll come down to the desk. Then you can roust him for loitering. It’ll be interesting to see how he takes it. When he leaves, I’m gonna tail him.”
“Sounds like fun.” Conrad grinned.
“Yeah, maybe for you. Thanks, pal.”
“Don’t mention it.”
* * *
Max knocked on the door to Mary O’Neill’s room. He heard the sound of footsteps, the rustle of skirts.
“Who is it?” she asked. The door remained locked.
“Max Niemand, Miss O’Neill.”
She opened the door tentatively, with the chain on. Then she unhooked the chain and let Max in.
“Thank God you’re here,” she said.
Max noticed a change in her appearance. She wore a fashionable hobble skirt; the soft pale blue-green material matched the color of her eyes; her light brown hair had recently been treated to a Marcel Wave; her luminous complexion was enhanced with powder and rouge; her warm body exuded the heady fragrance of Guerlain’s Belle-France. Max recognized the scent; he used to buy it for Peg Rooney.
The well-scrubbed “girl next door” seemed to have suddenly transformed into a sophisticated seductress. Yet he could see fear in her eyes, sense nervous tension in her movements and gestures. Was it genuine or an act? The girl might be playing him. He recalled Rosie’s “intuition.”
“I spotted a man in the lobby,” Max said. “I believe he’s the one who’s been following you.” He gave a description.
“Yes, that’s him,” she said in a barely audible voice.
Max nodded. “Don’t worry, miss. The house detective’s keeping an eye on him. Now, can we discuss this matter for a few minutes?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She led him to an area with a sofa and chairs set around a mahogany coffee table. This was a deluxe suite, not a room for someone on a tight budget. He chose a comfortable arm chair; Mary settled on the sofa across from him on the other side of the table. “Would you care for a drink?” she asked.
“No, thank you, miss.”
“We needn’t be so formal.” Her lips curled in a faint smile. “You may call me Mary. And I assume I may call you Max?”
“All right, Mary.”
“You sure you don’t want a drink, Max?” The smile broadened, displaying her even, white teeth.
Max shook his head. “Not now, thanks. Maybe another time.”
“I don’t suppose you mind if I have one?”
“Not at all.”
She poured a glass of whiskey from a crystal decanter on the table and added a little water from a pitcher. She drank half the glass and set it down.
“Now, Mary, I think it’s time we had a little talk. For starters, the man in the lobby, the one you said has been following you, was one of two men at the meeting place in Thatcher Woods.”
“My brother wasn’t there?”
“No, he wasn’t. Can’t say I was surprised.”
“But I don’t understand. Has he... do you think he’s been kidnapped?”
“That’s a definite possibility. Have you received a demand for ransom?”
“No, of course not. I would have told you immediately if I had.”
Max nodded. He eyed her in a friendly, non-threatening way before saying, “Do you know why anyone would want to kidnap your brother?”
“I’m not sure. I thought you might know.”
You know your brother better than I do, he thought. “I have an idea, but I think there’s more to it than that.” Max glanced around the room before saying, “This is a swell place. Suites like this don’t come cheap.”
“I don’t quite get the point of that remark, Max.” Her facial expression, manner and tone of voice made another quick change, like an April sky when a gray cloud suddenly rolls over the sun.
“Let’s be straight with each other. When you hired me, you told me you weren’t rich, but you could afford my services. I don’t know what your definition of ‘rich’ is, but I’d say it might be a person who can afford a suite like this.”
“I told you my father is a successful contractor in South Bend. We aren’t the Rockefellers, but I’ll admit we’re well off. When I said ‘I’m not rich,’ it was just in a manner of speaking. I don’t want to be taken advantage of, that’s all.”
“That might be understandable, if you didn’t know who you were dealing with. You said you learned about me from a case reported in the South Bend newspapers. But I’ve a hunch you did a bit more checking before seeking out my services.”
She flushed with embarrassment but did not hesitate to answer. “True, but I don’t see how that’s relevant. Are you going to stick with the case, or must I go to the police?”
A lot of good that would do, he thought. “You’re still my client, Mary. But if I’m to help you, I need your trust and your candor. I told you I had an idea why your brother is being held, presumably against his will. He witnessed a young woman’s death, and certain parties didn’t want him to testify at a coroner’s inquest. But there may be another reason: your family’s wealth.” Max looked at her directly and waited for a reply.
“All right; we are wealthy, that is to say my father’s wealthy. What’s more, Bob gambles; it’s a bad habit he can’t break. For a while, my father covered his markers, but it got out of hand. That’s one of the reasons Bob joined the merchant marine: to escape his creditors. He figured father would cover his debts. But father refused, so Bob’s creditors sold his markers to a syndicate here in Chicago.”
“How much does he owe?”
“About ten thousand dollars, and that doesn’t include interest.”
“I see. Well, if you haven’t got a demand yet, I expect you’ll get one soon. Maybe the guy who’s tailing you was about to deliver a message. Will your father pay?”
“Yes, but he’ll want to negotiate. I’ve heard you’re a good negotiator. Do you think they’ll settle for less?”
“They might. You sure you don’t want to go to the police?” Max offered her the option despite his suspicion about police involvement that was not limited to Milt Ritter.
“Only as a last resort. We want to avoid the publicity. That’s why I came to you. But what about the other matter you mentioned? Could the people who kept him from testifying be the same ones who are holding him for ransom?”
Max shook his head. “I don’t know, and we won’t know what they want until they make a demand. Anyway, I plan to tail the guy who followed you. He might lead me to the place where your brother is being held. Now, before I leave, I’m going to call the house detective. If there’s anything else relevant to this matter that you know and I don’t, you’d better tell me now.”
She got up from the sofa and walked around the table toward Max. He rose from his chair. She drew near, so close the soft material of her dress touched his jacket. She gazed up into his eyes and said, “I’m sorry if I seemed reticent. I have complete confidence in you and I want us to be friends.” Her red lips parted, her eyelids fluttered for an instant like the wings of a butterfly about to take flight.
Max inhaled the familiar scent and, for a moment, Peg’s image flashed across Mary O’Neill’s upturned face. He snapped out of it quickly and said, “No problem, Mary. I’ll do my best for you. Now, I’d better go before that bird downstairs flies the coop. Where’s your telephone?”
“Over there,” she said with a hint of disappointment as though she had expected something more. She pointed to a telephone in a nearby wall niche.
Max phoned Conrad at the front desk. “Hi, Con. Is our little pal still flipping through your magazines?”
“Yep, he’s still there. Are you coming down?”
“Right away. I’m going to stop at the newsstand and pick up a paper. That’s your signal to take out the garbage.”
“OK, Max.”
Max hung up and turned to Mary. “I’m going now. You’re safe as long as you stay in the hotel. The house detective will see to it. He’s a good man.”
She waited for him at the door. As he was about to leave, she placed her hand gently on his arm and said, “Be careful, Max.”
He held her hand for a moment and smiled. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be in touch.” Then he proceeded out the door, down the corridor and waited for the elevator.
On the way to the lobby, he sniffed his hand. Mary’s scent lingered. What’s her game? he wondered.
Proceed to Chapter 15...
Copyright © 2018 by Gary Inbinder
