Against The Odds (Anna Dawson #1) (9 page)

“Third door on the right,” he said.

“Thanks.”

I walked to the door, opened it slowly. I wasn’t sure if I’d be walking into the room with the body. If Ben would be in there, needing me, or needing a moment alone.

But the door led to another hallway, which was empty except for Jack Schiller standing in front of one of several doors.

“Ms. Dawson, we’re in here.”

I walked toward him. “It’s Anna,” I said, and he nodded, but didn’t correct himself. He held the door open for me. I took a deep breath, let it out, and walked across the threshold, expecting the worse.

But found only Ben sitting at a table in a small room. There was a coffee pot on a sideboard along the wall and another man was standing there pouring a cup. “Cream? Sugar?” he asked Ben over his shoulder.

“Black,” both Ben and I said at the same time. The man didn’t turn to me; he must have heard the detective in the hall addressing me. But Ben looked up, relief rushing across his face, his hand reaching for me.

I went and sat in the seat next to him, clasping his cold hand in mine. The other man sat Ben’s coffee down in front of him. “Coffee?” he asked me.

“No, thank you.”

“Ms. Dawson, this is my partner, Detective Frank Botz.”

He leaned across the table and held out his hand. “Ma’am,” he said.  
The ma’am made me feel ancient even though he had to be in his fifties. He had thinning hair and a bit of a gut that pulled his shirt slightly at the buttons. There was a stain on his Betty Boop tie that looked like mustard.

His eyes were kind, his small smile of greeting was warm, and his face was lined at his eyes and the corner of his mouth like he laughed a lot.

“Detective,” I said, shaking his hand with my free one—Ben still clung to my left.

“We’ve had a change in plans,” Jack Schiller said.

 
“Oh?” I said, trying to sound calm, but all I could think of was Lorelei’s phone call about the boys. Did Ben now have to identify four bodies?

Ben’s hand tightened on mine. Was he wondering the same thing? I squeezed his hand, trying to send strength. Or maybe trying to receive it.

“We don’t need you to identify the body any longer, sir. But you’re welcome to view it if you’d like.”

Ben looked to me. “Do you want to, Ben?” I asked quietly.

He thought for a moment then softly nodded. “Yes. Yes, I want to see my friend. I need to see my Danny.”

I nodded, understanding. “Why don’t you need Ben anymore?” I asked the detectives.

“Somebody else was able to make a positive ID,” Detective Botz said.

Just as Ben and I both asked, “Who?” Detective Schiller asked, “How long have you known Mr. O’Hern, Mr. Lowenstein?”

He didn’t seem to acknowledge our question, just waited for Ben’s answer.

“I’ve known Danny O’Hern for over forty years,” Ben said with something like pride in his voice. “A kinder, sweeter man you’d never meet.”

Detective Schiller took a seat at the table, directly across from Ben and to my right. Detective Botz went back to the wall and leaned against the sideboard. He pulled a notebook out of his suit pocket.
 

In my foggy mind I found it odd and slightly amusing that he used the same kind of notebook Ben did—all the boys did—to make book.

He wrote something in it, then folded his arms across his chest and looked at Detective Schiller, giving him just the slightest of nods. Detective Schiller turned back to us.
 

Something about their movements seemed so practiced, as if they’d done this over and over.

Suddenly a shiver of fear went through me. These were homicide detectives and this was some kind of make-shift interrogation room.

“Why are you—” But again, before I could get my question answered—or even asked this time—Detective Schiller said, “Is that a bit of New York accent I detect, Mr. Lowenstein?”

“Bronx,” Ben said, pride definitely in his voice now.

“Did you know Mr. O’Hern in New York?”

“No. No. I didn’t meet Danny until I was out here. I’ve been here for over sixty years, but I guess I still have a bit of the old neighborhood in me.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Detective Botz said, heavy on an accent of his own which I hadn’t noticed until now.

“Philly?” Ben said to the man who chuckled.

“That’s right. Good ear. You spend much time in Philly, Mr. Lowenstein? Or Pennsylvania at all?”

“No. None. I just have an ear for accents. And around here, sooner or later you hear all of them.”

“Mr. O’Hern? He was from the East Coast, too, originally?” Detective Schiller asked, drawing Ben’s attention back to him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Detective Botz write something in his notebook, and my concern level went up.

“Danny? No, Danny’s family came over from Ireland when he was just a baby. They settled in Chicago. Danny came out here when he was in his twenties.” Ben’s voice turned soft, wistful as he continued. “Danny only had an accent when he wanted to.”

I smiled, thinking of sweet Danny and his lilting brogue that came out every now and then. For a joke. Or a toast.

Or to call me his “wee one”.

Ben took his hand from mine, pushed his chair back and said, “I think I’m ready to see him, now.”

Detective Schiller motioned for Ben to stay sitting, which he did. “Just a couple more questions.” His voice held just enough authority in it to edge my concern to unease. “Do you know of anybody who would want to hurt Mr. O’Hern?”

“Danny? No. No,” Ben said quickly, shaking his head.

“Detective,” I said, “Danny O’Hern was the sweetest, most mild-mannered man you’d ever want to meet. No way would anyone want to hurt him. This—whatever it is that happened—had to have been random.”

“You mean to say he lived in Vegas for over sixty years, worked in the gambling industry where the odds he set made people millionaires and others paupers and he didn’t have one enemy?”

I narrowed my eyes at Jack Schiller. He obviously knew a hell of a lot more about Danny than he’d let on.

He flicked a glance at me, and started to ask another question, but this time I interrupted him. “Is Ben allowed to see Danny or not?”

He didn’t seem ready to give in. I pushed away from the table, rose from my chair, nodded at Ben to do the same.

Ben looked to both men, questioningly.

Detective Schiller let out a loud, disgruntled sigh as Detective Botz pushed away from the wall. “Yeah, you can see him now,” Detective Schiller said.

We walked out into the hallway. Ben and I stood in the center of the hall, waiting for the detectives to lead the way. But instead, they each went to one of the other doors and gave a quick knock. Detective Botz then went to yet another door and gave a short rap with his knuckles. They stood back against the wall, waiting.

Ben looked at me, I shrugged in return. When all three doors opened, I got the willies, not sure what to expect.

Out stepped three uniformed police officers. They each stepped aside from their respective doorways, and motioned for the inhabitants to come out.

One by one, from three different rooms, stepped Saul, Gus and Jimmy.

Ben gasped. I took a step backward.

They looked amongst themselves. It was obvious the other three had been told about Danny, their grief plain on their faces. It was also obvious that like me—and probably Ben—they’d been wondering about the fate of the others.

The relief on each of their faces was heartbreaking.

Saul stepped to Ben’s side, around his walker and hugged him fiercely. Gus came along side and patted them both on the back, leaving his hand there, as if to reassure himself that his friends—the ones in this hallway if not the other one in the building—were okay.
 

And Jimmy…well…Jimmy wasn’t going to get within a hundred yards of a group hug, but I caught his eye. He just nodded to me. I nodded back.
 

But I knew what he felt.

“Gentlemen. This way,” Detective Botz said, leading the men down the hallway to a swinging door. To Danny.

The boys fell in line behind him. Walking slowly, at Ben’s pace. Two by two. Saul and Ben followed by Gus and Jimmy.

The police officers followed. As Detective Schiller passed me, I put my hand on his chest. “Hang on,” I said, not looking at him, my eyes following the boys’ progress. The detective waited.

When the boys and the officers had gone through the doors I turned to Detective Jack Schiller.

“Okay, Bourbon,” I said. He snorted, then lifted his lip—not quite a smile, not quite a sneer—at my nickname for him. He raised a brow at me, challenging me.

Never one to back down from a challenge, I put my hands on my hips, raised my chin and asked, “What the fuck is going on?”

Chapter Seven

T
wo hours later the four remaining members of The Corporation and I were sitting at the Sourdough Café, though no one was eating. Danny’s empty chair mocked us all.

Jack Schiller had merely laughed at my demand for information, further infuriating me. He’d followed the boys into the room with Danny’s body and I’d waited out in the hall, giving Lorelei a quick call to let her know the rest of the boys were okay and accounted for. The boys had come out by themselves, and I’d never gotten the chance to talk to the detectives—either one of them.

Grace, our regular waitress, was beside herself when Saul told her about Danny. It was a good thing nobody wanted any food; it was all she could manage just to keep the coffee coming.

And we drank a hell of a lot of coffee. Not that anybody was sleepy. But the caffeine helped to stave off the numbness felt over Danny’s death.

“So,” I started, not wanting to broach the subject, but knowing it had to be done. “What are we going to do about a funeral? Do you want me to call Lorelei and have her come down here? She’d help us plan anything you want to do.”

All four of them looked at me like I was crazy. Finally Saul put a soft hand on my arm. “Moira will do that, Anna.”

Moira. Danny’s wife. I’d met her a few times, and of course she’d be the one who would handle the arrangements. It’s just…I guess…I thought of myself and The Corporation as Danny’s family.

I certainly thought of them as mine.

“Oh. Right. Of course. Moira. And his daughters,” I said, realizing that others were yet to be devastated by this news.

“Yes, the girls, though they’re grown of course and long gone. Kids of their own.”

“Tina lives in Laughlin,” Gus mentioned.

The others nodded. “I think Lisa is still in Florida,” Ben said. “Of course, she’ll come.”

“Moira might like to have you do something, Anna,” Jimmy said. “Maybe after the funeral? Some kind of wake or something?”

We all looked at him, but he only shrugged. “She’ll have family with her. Their house ain’t that big, not after they sold the bigger one when the girls left.” He gave me a pointed look, but I wasn’t sure what he was getting at.

“Of course we can do that. I’ll let Lor know, and…” I looked at the men, “Should I contact Moira and offer, or should one - ”

Jimmy raised a hand, stopping me. “I’ll mention it to her. I’m going to stop by her place after I leave here and see if she needs anything until the girls can get here.”

We were all stunned into silence, then Saul said, “That’s very nice of you, Jimmy.”

Jimmy only shrugged once again, gave me another look which I still wasn’t deciphering, and drank from his cup of coffee.

“Detective Botz said he would be going to let Moira know as we were leaving,” Saul said.

“Botz. Was that the older guy or the young one?” Gus asked.

“Older one,” Jimmy and I both said at the same time.

“Oh. Then it was the other one that brought me in,” Gus said.

“Schiller,” Jimmy and I both said, again simultaneously. He raised an eyebrow at me, but I looked at Saul. “Did Detective Schiller come and get you?”

He shook his head; his huge glasses seemed to take up even more space on his face than usual, as if the news of Danny’s death had diminished him physically. “Detective Botz came and got me. It seems as if forever ago.” He looked at his watch. “It
was
forever ago. They kept me waiting for so long. You don’t know the thoughts that went through my head.” He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, then let them fall to his lap.

“That’s what they wanted,” Jimmy said.

“Why do you say that, Jimmy?” Ben asked.

Jimmy hailed Grace and ordered breakfast—apparently he’d gotten over the grief-induced inability to eat. He turned back to the group, all anxious for his answer. “Botz picked up two of us, Schiller the other two, right?” The men all nodded, I leaned forward in my seat, setting my coffee cup down.

Jimmy can be as full of shit as any gambler, but he’d been around, and seen a lot of stuff go down, and we all knew it.

“They could have sent patrolmen around to get us. Hell, they could have called us down.”