The Girl on the Rush Street Bridge
by Gary Inbinder
Chicago, 1910. The mysterious death of detective Max Niemand’s former girlfriend launches Max on a dangerous investigation involving gangsters, corrupt politicians, crooked cops, a missing key witness, and Max’s client, the missing witness’s attractive sister. Max will need all his skill and resources to stay alive and solve the case of The Girl on the Rush Street Bridge.
Chapter 13: The Hanged Man
Max sifted through several messages on his desk and found one from Mary O’Neill and another from Abe Levitsky, both marked “Urgent.” He decided to look in on Levitsky. Then he set the messages aside and turned to the O’Neill file. He phoned Mary at the hotel, but there was no answer. He left a message at the desk and returned to the file until he was interrupted by a knock on the door. Rosie entered.
“Lieutenant Mueller and Sergeant Sugrue are here to see you.” By the look on Rosie’s face, Max could tell this was not a social call.
“Send ’em in,” he said.
Mueller entered, followed by Big Mike. The lieutenant had a nasty grin on his face that did not bode well. Mike was somber, hard to read. They stood silently, waiting for Max to speak.
“What brings you guys here?” Max said without getting up from his chair.
“We want to talk to you about Abe Levitsky,” Mueller said.
“What about him?” Max guessed it was bad news; he did not mention the message.
“He’s dead. A neighbor found him hanging from a fire escape in the alley behind his apartment.” Mueller kept eyeing Max with the ugly grin.
“What happened? Was it suicide?”
“Don’t know. We’re investigating,” said Mueller.
“I see,” Max replied with a sardonic grin. “I guess you can rule out accident.”
“Very funny, Niemand.” It appeared Max’s allusion to Peg Rooney’s “accident” was not lost on the lieutenant. He paused before adding, “We talked to Levitsky’s landlady.”
“Oh, really? Anything interesting?”
“Maybe. She said you and Abe had a disagreement. That was a couple nights ago. She says it got violent; she had to break it up.”
“We were just horsing around. Nothing serious. We told her so, Abe and me. Did she mention that?”
“Yeah,” said Mueller with a skeptical squint. “She didn’t buy it.”
“Do you?”
Mueller didn’t reply. He gave Max the gimlet eye before saying, “We’d like you to take a ride with us down to Levitsky’s place. You might find it interesting.”
“I might, but then I’m a busy guy.” He glanced at Mike who gave an almost imperceptible nod, implying that Max should come. He turned to Mueller and said, “All right, Lieutenant. Since you, me and Mike are such good pals, I guess I’ll come along for the ride.”
“That’s mighty white of you,” Mueller replied. “By the way, your buddy Sid Eisenberg will be there. He’s the coroner’s investigator on this case.” Mueller studied Max as if looking for a reaction.
Max smiled. “Swell,” he replied. “It’ll be a nice get-together; a few old pals and a corpse.”
* * *
The alley behind Levitsky’s apartment building was unpleasant even on the best of days, and today was not one of the best. A gray overcast covered Chicago like a grimy shroud; crows circled overhead and gradually descended onto telephone wires, their incessant cawing mingling with the noise of street traffic.
The police had set up barriers, closing off the alley to the public, including reporters and morbid curiosity seekers. Mueller and Mike passed through the barricade, followed by Max. They proceeded about twenty feet into the alley, then halted in the vicinity of the dangling corpse.
Levitsky hung from a few feet of rope securely fastened to the bottom platform of an iron fire escape. His black tongue protruded from lips forming an “O”; eyes bugged-out from their sockets; feces and urine had dribbled down through the pants legs to form a puddle on the unpaved ground. Flies buzzed around the corpse, and a busy forensic team that included a fingerprint expert, a photographer, and Sid Eisenberg from the coroner’s office.
Max gazed up at the strangled face. He thought of the urgent phone call, probably Levitsky’s last. Someone sent a message, all right.
Eisenberg walked over to Mueller and Mike. After a cursory greeting to Max, he asked Mueller, “Any witnesses?”
Mueller shook his head. “So far, just the neighbor who found him like he is now and reported it to the officer on the beat. But that’s to be expected. When it comes to police investigations, people ’round here tend to be deaf, dumb and blind.”
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Eisenberg said. “Well, unless you can produce witnesses or the forensic team comes up with some evidence to the contrary, this looks like suicide.” He turned to Max. “You knew Levitsky. Any idea why he’d kill himself?”
Max shrugged. He recalled the song playing on Levitsky’s Victrola: “Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland.” Levitsky’s life was no dream, unless it was a nightmare. “Maybe he just got tired of living.”
Eisenberg looked back at Mueller. Mueller pulled a stogie and matches out of his jacket pocket and lit up. After a couple of puffs, he said: “Stinks around here, don’t it?”
“You got a knack for stating the obvious,” Max replied. He reached into his pocket, produced a Havana Corona and offered it to Mueller. “Here, have a good cigar. It might help.”
Mueller glared at Max, but he accepted the Corona. “You got any other smart comments, Niemand?”
“Nope. If you guys don’t need me for anything, I’ll be on my way.”
“You can go,” Mueller said. “But you will let us know if you turn up anything on this Levitsky case?”
“You can count on it,” Max said.
“If you don’t mind waiting a while, we’ll give you a ride,” Mike said. Coming from Big Mike, it seemed like a friendly gesture.
“No, thanks, Mike. I’m in a hurry, and it’s a short walk to the El station.” Max said his good-byes and left the scene, thinking another murder would go on the books as something else, this time a suicide. Why? That was a question he was determined to answer before his own corpse was added to the list.
Proceed to Chapter 14...
Copyright © 2018 by Gary Inbinder
