Chicago Max
by Gary Inbinder
Chapter 13: The House in Austin
part 2
Back at the office, Max phoned his contact at the County Recorder. “Have you got anything for me?”
“Yeah, but I can’t talk now. Can you meet me six-thirty this evening at The Berghoff?”
“OK, I’ll be there.”
Max put down the receiver, leaned forward over his desk and lit a cigar. He took a couple of puffs, set his smoke down in an ashtray and added notes to the Levy file. His contact, Fritz Klein, was another pal from the old neighborhood. Fritz had discovered something important relating to the house on Pine Avenue, something too hot to discuss on a telephone in the Recorder’s office.
Max grabbed a pencil and paper and began a chart that would serve as an aid to his conceptualization of the case. He listed the two murder victims, Moe and Weasel, put crosses by their names, drew a box around each and connected them with a line. Then he put down the two prime suspects, Bugsy and Vito, and connected them to the victims. Next, he wrote in the North Side boss, Ike Burns, and tied him to the two South Side gangsters with a question mark. He was about to put Prescott Fielding in a box connecting with Burns when the office door opened. Max looked up and was surprised to see Olga Boyer.
Max put down his pencil, closed the file and got up from his chair. “Good afternoon, Miss Boyer. What a pleasant surprise. Please come in.” He walked around his desk and escorted her to a seat. “I think you’ll find this comfortable. May I take your hat and coat? Would you care for some coffee? I just made it fresh.”
She sat down, turned her head to one side and looked up at him. “Oh, no thank you Mr. Niemand. I won’t be long.”
He returned to his chair, folded his hands on the desk and smiled warmly. “How may I help you?”
She removed one of her gloves and fiddled with it nervously before speaking. “I... I’ve been thinking about your offer... the job as your assistant, that is. I’ve decided to accept.”
Max was not prepared for this, but he tried not to show it. He kept his demeanor relaxed and friendly. “I see. That’s a big decision. Have you discussed it with your aunt?”
Olga looked down at her glove. She blushed and cleared her throat before speaking. “My aunt passed away three years ago. I’m sorry I misled you. I live alone in a boarding house.”
“Did your late aunt own the music store?”
Olga shook her head without looking up and said, “No” so softly he could barely hear her.
“You said your aunt raised you after your parents died. Did she leave you any money?”
She looked up suddenly and said, “Why do you ask?”
“You’re always so well-dressed and well-mannered. I mean that sincerely, as a compliment. Will you answer my question?”
“She left me a little. She was an expert dressmaker; she did alterations for ladies who could afford the best. She taught me her trade, and I helped her until I got the job at the store.”
“What about your education? How far did you get in school?”
“My aunt let me go through the eighth grade. I was at the top of my class. My English teacher, Miss Casey, took a special interest in me. She said a good education would lead to all sorts of opportunities. I could have gone on to high school, but my aunt needed my help. She was ill and... Miss Casey cried when I told her I couldn’t continue my education.” Her voice choked off in a sob.
Is she on the level, or is she telling me what she thinks I want to hear? The English teacher could be another story, like the rich aunt and ten bucks a week. Max stared at her for a moment before saying, “Look at me, Miss Boyer.”
She looked up. A tear appeared in her right eye and ran slowly down her cheek.
He spoke gently. “I could use a cup of coffee. How about it?”
Olga sniffed and nodded in the affirmative. She opened her purse, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes.
Max fetched the pot and two cups. He poured for her, returned to his chair and gave her a couple of minutes to compose herself. Then: “What is your status at the music store?”
“I just came from there. I gave the manager my notice, and he gave me the rest of the day off.”
Max’s warm, sympathetic smile gave way to a frown. “Don’t you think you ought to have come to me and talked things over before taking that step?”
The change in his tone surprised her; she became defensive. “I thought you made a serious offer. I mean—”
“It was serious, Miss Boyer,” Max broke in testily. “But I’m right in the middle of a big case. I need to make arrangements for you, order more office furniture, and get another telephone—”
His stated plans for her employment perked her up fast. “Oh, Mr. Niemand,” she cried. “Then you will employ me. I promise you won’t regret it.”
I already do, he thought. Nevertheless he said, “How much notice did you give?”
“Two weeks.”
“All right, that gives us a little time. Now, we need to get a few things straight. First, this is a position of trust. When you work for me, you’ll have access to confidential information, client secrets, and my methods of operation. You admitted you lied to me about your aunt. You may think that’s a harmless fib, but it makes me suspicious. If there’s anything else you’ve told me that isn’t true, you’d better come clean about it now.”
Olga looked him in the eye and answered matter-of-factly. “I said I was earning ten dollars a week. That’s not true. I make five-fifty.”
Max nodded knowingly; a slight, almost imperceptible smile played about his lips. “Remember what I said about ‘trust but cut the cards.’ Now, tell me why you made that up. I won’t be angry. I just want to know what you were thinking.”
“I figured you’d pay more if I inflated my salary, and the story about my rich aunt was to create the impression that I didn’t need a job. It’s a negotiating tactic.”
Smart girl, he thought. I might be able to make a detective out of her. “As I recall, you said you were over twenty-one. This ain’t a kid’s job I’m offering. Exactly how old are you?”
“Twenty-three, last month.” She answered confidently, knowing that if she lied about her age he could easily learn the truth.
“OK, Miss Boyer; now we understand each other. You can bring proof of your age the day you start here.” Max recalled how he had obtained an altered baptismal certificate to join the police. He guessed she was being honest on this particular, but with some people you never knew. At any rate, asking for proof was his way of “cutting the cards.”
He consulted his desk calendar. “Today’s Thursday. You said you gave two weeks’ notice, so you can start two weeks from next Monday. My office hours are seven to five Monday through Friday with a half-day on Saturday. Your starting salary will be seven dollars a week.”
“Thank you, Mr. Niemand,” she gushed. “I’m ever so grateful. I won’t let you down, I promise.”
Max smiled wryly, took a fountain pen from his desk and wrote her name and the date on a legal pad. “I need your address and a telephone number where you may be reached during the day.”
Olga provided an address on Oakley Avenue just south of Division Street and the boarding house telephone number. He jotted down the information. Then he looked up at her and said: “You’ll answer the phone, greet clients, set appointments, take messages, order office supplies, keep and file records, that sort of thing. At the end of ninety days, we’ll get together and see how you’re making out. I’m out of the office quite a bit, working investigations, so you’ll be on your own much of the time. When I’m unavailable, you’ll be responsible for opening and closing the office. Any questions?”
“You said you’re working a big case. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Max shook his head. “Don’t even think of it, Miss Boyer. You’re a long way from being an operative. Perhaps, at the end of a year, if you work well and are still interested, I’ll train you to assist me on select cases.” He paused a moment before continuing in a serious vein: “Much of what I do is dirty, disagreeable and dangerous. I’ll try not to expose you to the worst of it, but there it is. If you had come to me before you gave notice, I would have told you that. Are you still sure you want to work for me? If you don’t, is there a chance you could keep your job at the music store?”
Olga looked him straight in the eye and answered without hesitation. “I could keep my job, but I don’t want to. I want very much to work for you.”
Max got up, walked to her and extended his hand. “All right, Miss Boyer. I’ll look forward to seeing you here in two weeks’ time, Monday morning at seven sharp.”
She took his hand, rose from her chair, looked up at Max and smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Niemand. I’ll see you then. Good afternoon.”
“Good afternoon, Miss Boyer.” Max escorted her to the front door. As soon as she left, he noticed how her scent lingered, permeating the office. Her image in all its aspects stuck stubbornly to his mind. Working with her will be a distraction, he thought. I’ll need that partition.
He returned to his desk, opened a drawer and took out a bottle and a glass. He poured a stiff shot, downed it, poured another and set it aside for later. Then he eased back in his swivel chair and thought for a moment before grabbing the notepad with Olga’s name, address and telephone number. He stared at the legal pad and saw her face. He considered the possibility that he might be falling in love. He dismissed the notion with a shudder. “Love is for saps,” he muttered.
Max knew a discreet and capable operative who owed him a big favor. I’ll phone him and get a routine background check on her, starting with the music store and the boarding house. Satisfied with the prudence of this course of action, he put away the pad and turned his attention to the Levy file. However, try as he might, he could not get Olga out of his mind for the rest of the afternoon.
* * *
Copyright © 2015 by Gary Inbinder
