The Girl on the Rush Street Bridge

by Gary Inbinder

Table of Contents

Chapter 16: Hoosier Shipping

part 1

Max returned to the Grand Pacific with the intention of seeing Mary O’Neill. He wanted to inform her about the young man and the house in Forest Park, just enough to show he was making progress in the case without raising any false hopes. Moreover, he was anxious to know if she had received a demand for ransom from the alleged kidnappers. But before he got halfway to the elevators, Conrad waylaid him in the lobby.

“Have fun tailing the lad?” Conrad said.

“Yeah. Took a pleasant excursion to the suburbs and back. Perfect day for it.”

“Sounds like you had a swell time,” Conrad said with a grin. “By the way, if you’re lookin’ for your client, she ain’t here.”

“I see,” Max said with a frown.

“I suppose you told her to stay put until you got back?”

“You suppose right. Was she alone when she went out?”

“Yeah,” Conrad nodded. Then he added, “Just like a dame, right? You tell her to do something and she does the opposite.”

Max shrugged. “Well, I hope she had a good reason. Anyway, I’ll leave a message for her, but will you please call my office when you see her?”

“Sure, Max. Glad to be of service. After all, you’ve helped me out plenty of times.”

Max grinned. “That’s what friends are for.”

* * *

Max entered the office; Rosie looked up from her paperwork and greeted him.

“Hi, boss. I got that information you wanted on the Lady of the Lake.”

“Good” he said with a smile. “Bring it and join me for coffee in the inner sanctum.”

He continued on to the inner office, hung his hat, jacket and shoulder-holster on the coat rack, then eased back in the swivel chair behind his desk. Rosie followed with her notes and two mugs of coffee on a tray. She set the tray on the desk and settled down on the chair across from Max. A smile brightened her face. When she smiled like that, she looked particularly attractive. She had done a good job tracking down the information; the invitation for coffee in the boss’s office was a well-deserved sign of Max’s appreciation.

After a couple sips of coffee, Max said, “Show me what you got.”

Rosie handed him the notes. Max reviewed them for a minute without speaking. Then he looked up at Rosie and said, “She’s a general cargo carrier registered to Hoosier Shipping; ports of call include Hammond, Chicago, Milwaukee, Sturgeon Bay and Green Bay. What do you know about Hoosier Shipping?”

“Nothing, boss, except that they’re listed as owner in the registry. Do you want me to phone our contact in Indianapolis?”

Max shook his head and said, “I’ll take care of it.” He grabbed a pencil and made a note for himself. He still needed more information about the O’Neill family; his contact could provide that in addition to the dope on Hoosier Shipping.

“The Lady of the Lake might be docked in Milwaukee,” Max said. “Have you checked on that?”

“Yes, I did. She’s there now.”

“Good work, Rosie. I’m gonna phone Walt Wagner to see if he can get more information on the boat and the cargo she’s carrying. He might know something about who’s behind Hoosier Shipping, too.” Wagner was a former Milwaukee Police detective sergeant who ran his own agency in Milwaukee. He and Max did favors for each other, from time to time.

“Do you want me to call the long-distance operator?” she asked.

“Yes; please do. And put through another call to Mort Williams in Indianapolis.” Williams was a lawyer, a rainmaker with strong political connections in the capital, another trusted member of The Hawk’s Midwestern network.

“OK, boss. Anything else?”

“Yeah, a couple things.” Max reached into his pocket, pulled out the note with the information he got from the cabbie, and handed it to Rosie. “Call our county and state contacts and ask them to check out the address and the license number.”

“Will do, boss.” She got up and started for the door.

“Sorry, kid.” Max said. “You’ve been doing a fine job, and I guess I haven’t been Mr. Sunshine lately.”

She stopped, turned around and said, “Tough case, boss?”

Max nodded. “Plenty tough. Two cases, really. Anyway, I just wanted you to know how much I appreciate you, and Joey too. I’m getting kinda tired of being called boss. Maybe it’s time you both started calling me Max.”

“OK, Max. I’ll go make those calls now.”

“Thanks, kid.”

* * *

The long-distance operator got through to Walt Wagner in Milwaukee. Max picked up the call. “Hey, Walt. How are things in the nation’s beer capital?”

“Sudsy, as usual. How’re things in the murder capital?”

“Bloody, as usual. But you still can’t beat our skyscrapers and lake front. And what about those Cubs? Anyway, I’m on a big case and I was hoping you could help me with a little information.”

“Sure, Max. I think I owe you a favor... maybe two. But then, who’s counting?”

“Thanks, pal. I’m looking for information on a freighter, the Lady of the Lake. She docked here a couple of days ago, and she makes regular runs to Milwaukee.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I’m interested in the cargo she carries. I’m also looking for dope about the owners, but I can get that from another source. And I’m thinking she might be in Milwaukee today. Her next port could be Sturgeon Bay or Green Bay.”

“OK, Max. I’ll have one of my ops check her out.”

“Thanks, Walt. Gotta cut this short. I’m expecting another long-distance call.”

“Two long-distance calls in one day? I’m impressed. See you around, Max.”

“See you, Walt. And thanks again.” Max hung up and buzzed Rosie. “Any word on the Indianapolis call?”

“Not yet. I’m still waiting to hear back from the operator.”

“OK, Thanks.”

Max lit a cigar, leaned back in his chair and took a moment to think things through. Thinking about Peg Rooney’s death and Bob O’Neill’s disappearance was like working two puzzles at the same time where pieces from each puzzle seemed necessary to complete both pictures. The complications were making his head spin. He was about to pour a shot from his office bottle when Rosie buzzed:

“I have the long-distance operator. Indianapolis is on the line.”

“Thanks, Rosie. Put it through.”

Max picked up the call. “Hello, Mort. Thanks for getting back to me.”

“No problem, Max. How can I help you?”

“I’m trying to get information about Timothy O’Neill. I hear he’s big in the construction business in South Bend.”

“He’s big all right. One of the biggest contractors in the state.”

“About how much would you say he’s worth?”

“Oh, about two million give or take a hundred grand.”

A real big shot. That wasn’t quite the impression I got from Mary, he thought. “I see. Do you know if he has any interest in an outfit called Hoosier Shipping?”

“Don’t know, but I can find out. Tim O’Neill has his fingers in a lot of pies; plenty of political clout, too.”

“Do you know anything about Hoosier Shipping? They’re listed as owner of a freighter called the Lady of the Lake.”

“I’ve heard of them. I can get you more information while I’m checking up on O’Neill.”

“Thanks, Mort. Next time you’re in Chicago, I’ll take you out to dinner and introduce you to some swell folks.”

“Last time I was in Chicago, you got me plastered and took me for two C-notes at the poker table.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll make up for it with an extra-special dinner.”

Mort laughed. “All right, Max. I’ll hold you to it. We’ll be in touch.”

Max hung up, poured a shot and downed it. His thoughts turned back to Mary O’Neill. Where was she? What was she up to? He guessed he would find out soon enough. Could she be trusted? That was another mystery to be solved.

He spent a few minutes shuffling papers and organizing his files. He planned to stop at Otto’s after work; he assumed Jimmy Dolan, one of the regulars, would be there. Jimmy had recently retired after almost forty years on the force. Among other things, Jimmy had been the precinct’s bagman; he knew where all the bodies were buried and was always good for a tip.

* * *

At seven that evening, Max got off the elevated at Robey Street. He walked down to the ground floor newsstand, chatted with old Ivan the vendor, then purchased five Havana coronas and an evening paper before leaving the station.

He exited the enclosure and turned the corner onto North Avenue, heading in the direction of his favorite hang-out, Otto’s Tavern. A slate colored sky emptied in a steady stream of rain; the yellow-gold glow of street lights reflected on the damp pavement. Two lines of automobiles, their acetylene lamps like giant fireflies glimmering through the slanting raindrops, chugged and rattled up and down the avenue. Sparking, clanging trolleys rolled along the rails in their median right-of-way.

Max opened the door to Otto’s, entering the familiar atmosphere: electric and gas ceiling fixtures and a row of light bulbs over the wall mirror behind the bar, gleaming through a gray haze of tobacco smoke; the rinky-tink nickelodeon jangling out I’ve Got Rings on My Fingers; the rough voices and laughter of the regulars; the ringing cash registers; the roll and clack of balls on the pool table.

As soon as Max walked through the door, a number of heads turned to greet him. Otto and Jimmy Dolan who were in heated discussion at the far end of the bar, stopped chewing the rag and looked up, too. Otto, a battle-scarred ex-heavyweight and Jimmy, slender and supple with bright blue eyes, thin white hair and an enormous handlebar moustache, made quite a pair. Max headed in their direction.

Proeed to part 2...

Copyright © 2018 by Gary Inbinder