Live Bait (6 page)

"Just these two beers and a little time," I said evenly. "How about you?"

"Business." He slapped one hand down on the table, making my beer glasses jingle. "Just here to talk to a citizen about some hassle out at Finch and Warden last night."

"Just a hassle? That guard didn't die?" I kept my voice low. It seemed that everyone in the place was listening to us, straining as they had never strained for the TV show.

Svensen laughed another of his showbiz laughs while he did his best to stare through me. "No, he's gonna be all right. He'll live to punch more time clocks." When I didn't comment he bored on. "Naah, that's not the problem. Thing is, the outfit he works for hired some nickel and dime investigator from the sticks to follow up on it." He stopped and had a laugh, looking around to check that everyone was in on the fun with him. "Like, I mean. Some guys are fine for putting the blocks to bikers. But investigation, that takes brains."

His partner cracked a brief, pained smile but said nothing. I could tell he was new to plainclothes work. Life was still a game of cops and robbers. He hadn't realized yet that most of the time the robbers have all the laughs. He should have grabbed this opportunity.

Then Svensen rocked his chair forward and leaned over the table, his eyes cold as pebbles. "Get the hell back to Hicksville. We've been put on to Tony. It's a police case now, so leave it to the professionals."

He leaned back on his chair. With a lift of my toe I could have sent him sprawling but I didn't dislike him that much. "You go ahead and investigate," I told him. "Me, I'm having a beer."

He stared at me. I could see the pores in his nose, smell the mint on his gusty breath. "Good." He almost whispered it. "On account of this is a departmental investigation. If you get underfoot I'm going to have your ass for obstructing police. You got that?"

I said nothing but after a reasonable wait I lifted my beer and took a good sip. Svensen breathed hard, through pinched nostrils and said, "I don't want you bothering Tony."

"It's no bother. This is business, I'm all tapped out and payday isn't till next week."

For a moment I thought he was going to laugh again. His mouth winced at the corners but then he pushed away from the table and stood up. "Just remember what I told you."

I put one hand on my heart. "Forever," I promised and turned my eyes to the TV where a pretty blond girl was hanging around the MC's neck, jumping both feet off the ground in rapturous little hops.

Svensen nodded to his partner and they left, lightening the mood of the whole room. I drank my beer, ordered another and sat waiting and watching "M*A*S*H" where all those cut enlisted men fed straight lines to the doctors. I wondered what Alda and his crew would have done in some of the field situations I'd been in. But meantime, I waited and finally, half an hour later than the previous day, Tony showed up.

This time he saw me at once and didn't bother with the visiting statesman entrance. He and his bodyguard went together to the corner table. The waiter rushed them their drinks but there was no tip. There were a few words—about me, I judged, from the hissing the waiter did—then they waved him away and opened their store.

The first customer was a mechanic by the look of his fingernails. They had that mourning band around them that handsoap won't touch. He was around forty, a little heavy and lost-looking. I'd seen him soak up six beers in half an hour and he had the paper under his arm, folded to the race page.

He spoke to Tony and was handed over to George, who paid him and made out a note. He took the cash and was heading for the door when I stood up and intercepted him. "You wanna watch that guy," I said, conversationally.

He wasn't expecting anybody to speak to him before the clerk at the betting window took his money. He stopped, openmouthed. I pushed on. "If you're behind with your six for five, he'll have his goon slam a car door on your hand a time or two, with the fingers in the hinge side."

He jolted his head around to look at Tony, then back at me.

"Wa'd you say?"

I repeated it, word for word and added, "You won't be able to fix cars so good after that, will you?"

He soaked it in, then narrowed his eyes and asked me, "You a cop?"

"You might say. Put me down as a friend." I grinned at him, a narrow-mouthed, vaguely threatening grin. I could see Tony and George bending their heads together but I'd been prepared for that.

The mechanic moved from foot to foot, uncertainly, then turned back to Tony and laid the money back on the table. The bodyguard started to bluster but he just pointed at me and said nothing. Then he gave them a quick shrug of apology and went out. I could hear him taking the stairs, two at a time. I sat down again. I was in the middle of the floor, not the best spot for security but my hearing was trained in a tougher school than this. I figured I'd hear anybody sneaking up on me.

Another man borrowed money and I went through the same routine. This guy was younger and more sure of himself. "You ain't scaring me," he said. I shrugged and sipped my beer. "Suit yourself. I can just tell you there's two guys in hospital right now over them. One of them had his throat cut with a piece of window glass."

That convinced him. He swore, short and ugly, then turned around. "There's other places to get money," he said. He replaced the money on the table and left. Tony snapped his fingers for the waiter, the same one who had earned the fin the previous night. He bent over to listen, then went back to the bar and put his tray down. He came up to me as tough as he could manage. He didn't like this work one bit. "You gotta leave, you're drunk."

"I'm cold sober and I'm staying. Call a cop if you've got a problem. Or maybe your fink friends don't want any cops in here."

He licked his dry lips. "Look, I don't want trouble any more'n you. But I gotta tell you there's a sawed off pool cue behind the bar."

I nodded to the bodyguard who was sitting hunched, to ease the tension on his sore stomach. "Ask your buddy what happened to the last couple of guys who tried that." I don't like playing Clint Eastwood but there wasn't any other way of getting at Tony.

The waiter hesitated. I could see he was pricing out the chance of a beating. Would it be worth the big tips? Would they stop anyway? He decided against doing anything rash. Instead he called over his shoulder to the man on the taps. This was the typical beerhall bouncer, six-foot two maybe, but thirty-five pounds heavier than me, most of it under his apron. I guessed he'd made himself a name for sorting out fights. But I also guessed he did it carefully, waiting until a few swings had been taken and the battlers had decided it was all a mistake before he moved in. He was no menace.

"You. Out." He hooked with his thumb, like a baseball umpire. I ignored him, except for bringing my feet up in front of me, ready to dig in and move on him if he tried anything. I didn't have to worry. He made the predictable move, digging a stiff forefinger into my breastbone. I caught it in my left hand and rolled the heel of my hand down on the knuckle joint, bringing him crashing to his knees.

He swore but knelt still as I spoke quietly. "I'm just sitting here having a beer. If I choose to talk to the other customers, there's no law says I can't. Tell that to your complainant."

I let go of his finger and he stood up, backing off a pace. The word "complainant" had triggered him.

"You a p'lice off'cer?"

"Yes." No need telling him my patch was two hundred miles north, he didn't need to know.

"Why'nt you say so, off'cer. That's different. Can I send you over a beer."

"No thanks. But I'd like to buy you one."

Give him credit, he was quick-witted enough to be the gracious loser. "That'd be good," he said and shook his sore finger. "That's quite a trick. Where'd you learn that?"

I could have told him Parris Island, from a crop-headed veteran of Iwo Jima. Instead I just laughed and said, "Yeah, it works, eh. Remember it in case some smartass tries prodding you."

He walked back to the bar, giving the waiter a minute head signal to follow him. That left me alone with my beer. Tony watched in pure hatred. After another minute he got up, making a point of spilling his drink so it ran over a couple of chairs. He and his bodyguard marched out, and I fell in behind them, close enough to annoy, far enough away to be out of reach of a kick.

Tony stopped at the head of the stairs inside the main door. His bodyguard stopped beside him and turned to me, holding his coat far enough open that I could see he was carrying. I clomped up beside them, angled so they couldn't kick, ready to sweep George across the collarbone if he went for his equalizer. "I hope your date has a license for that thing or he could end up inside," I told him.

"All the license he needs, workin' for me," Tony said. "Now are you gonna take a hike or are we gonna hurt you?"

"Tell you what…" I slapped my hands together explosively and the muscleman flinched. "I'll be happy to leave you to take care of business in the usual way, if you'll spare me one minute of your time."

Tony swore and I shrugged. "Suit yourself, but you won't make much money unless you do. I can tag along wherever you go."

The bodyguard pulled his coat open again but I ignored the movement, he wasn't going to use a gun in public. Private, probably, but not here, where witnesses could come in any time. "Get rid of him," I told Tony. "This isn't going to take long."

He dismissed the bodyguard in a low hiss. "Go warm up the car, George. I'll be out in a minute."

George looked at him, then me, then lowered his head like a schoolboy caught cheating on his exam and went through the door.

A couple of new customers came in, middle-aged men in tweed jackets with cloth caps and mufflers. Limeys, I thought, keeping my eye on Tony who had his hands in his pockets and was acting bored. The men went down the steps talking about the Blizzards, the local soccer team, in accents that reminded me of my father. But my mind stayed on business.

"Right. I want one answer to one question and I'm through bugging." Tony just stared at me and I went on. "Who got you to send those guys to beat up the Bonded Security guards, Kennie and Hudson?"

He responded as I had expected. "I dunno what you're talkin' about."

"Think hard," I told him easily. "Kennie is the little waster who came after me last night. Night before that, him and some other gorilla went for me on a Bonded Security construction site on Shuter Street. The night before that they beat up another guard. It doesn't matter why, I just want to know who asked you to send them."

He didn't answer but he didn't move away. I put some more pressure on. "I don't care about your part in it. I don't care how many six for fives you kite out. I don't care how many thumbs you break collecting. But I want that name and I'll stick to you like snot to an army blanket until you give it to me."

Like a lot of smalltime hoods he was not a smart man. I could almost hear the wheels cranking over in his head as he considered the alternatives. He already knew I wouldn't scare off. He was probably under pressure to keep his loan volume up. On the other hand, you don't give free information to a cop, not about men who pay to have other men smashed up. At last he spoke. "Now, I don't know what in hell you're smokin', thinkin' I got anything to do with some guy's head gettin' kicked in, but if I happened to hear somethin' and let you know, that would be it, right?"

"That would be it, dearheart."

"Yeah, well, I did hear some talk." He leant forward as if to whisper but I didn't bite. He was looking to headlock me and knee me somewhere sensitive.

"We're all alone, you can speak right up," I said.

He sighed and his shoulders dropped. It looked studied, as if he had picked it up watching those interchangeable heroes on TV. Finally he said, "Okay, asshole. The guy you're lookin' for is a lawyer, name of Cy Straight."

"Is he in the phone book?"

"Should be. He's got an office on Bay near King, one o' them bank buildings."

"Did he give you any reason?"

Tony drew himself back and held up his hands, the way Pontius Pilate must have done, palms outwards. "Our deal was a name. You got your name, right?"

"Right," I told him. "See you around."

He stood for perhaps a minute, waiting for me to walk away back downstairs but I'd seen enough of him to be careful in his company and I stayed put until he sighed and did his shoulder-drop again and left.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 8

 

 

I
didn't follow him. George could have been waiting outside with his tire iron and I was sick of getting swung at. Instead I went the other way, into the cocktail lounge on the main floor. I ordered a bottle of Labatt's Classic and asked if I could use the phone. The barman nodded to the end of the bar. "Help yourself."

Fullwell's wife answered and I introduced myself. She told me "Simon's asleep, he's going in at midnight, is there a message?"

"Tell him, please, that I have a name for him. And I'll see him at his office a little before twelve, thank you."

I finished my beer before leaving. I was still up from my small victory, it took us another step closer to finding out what was going on. I knew it would be harder to get this lawyer to open up but we could play that as we found it. Maybe Fullwell's boss had connections he could use. In the meantime, my work was done until the night shift started.

It was dark when I left the bar, going out of the side door, carefully. Tony's car was nowhere around and I walked to mine and got in. Sam was in the back seat and I spent a moment patting him and telling him he was a good boy. He's all the family I've got up at the Harbour, but tonight I was heading home to my sister's place and I felt cheered by the prospect of a family evening.

She lives in the north end of the city, one of those cross streets that run off Yonge, where bankers and insurance brokers used to live thirty years ago. Since then the district has been taken over twice, first by upwardly mobile Greeks and Italians, then by a new generation of WASPs who bought up the old houses and painted them pastel colors and planted magnolias in the front yards.