Chicago Max
by Gary Inbinder
1906. It’s a frigid Chicago New Year, and detective Max Niemand has a hot new case. A meeting between a high society playboy and an underworld denizen at the notorious First Ward Ball catches Max’s attention.
The chance encounter draws Max into a tangled web of murder, deceit, racketeering and corruption. He follows the clues and leads from Chicago’s most dangerous slums to the Gold Coast mansions of the Windy City’s social elite.
His investigation involves a variety of characters, both male and female, from all walks of life. They are playing a dangerous game for high stakes, and Max doesn’t know if he can trust any of the players. He’ll need all his detective skills to solve this case, and a mistake could cost him his reputation or even his life.
Chicago ain't no sissy town. — Michael "Hinky Dink" Kenna,
First Ward Alderman, 1897-1923
Chapter 20: Boss Mahoney
“Take a look at the sports page, Mr. Niemand. You got a message from a swell dame.”
Max snatched the paper from Joey’s outstretched grubby hand. “A ‘swell dame’ huh? You getting an eye for the ladies, kid?”
“I know what I like when I see it.”
Max nodded. “Guess you’re growing up. Did this nice lady give you a tip?”
Joey looked down and thought a moment before answering, “Yeah, two bits.” He answered honestly and his downcast expression telegraphed the kid’s fear that he would pay a price for his candor.
Max got the message. He reached into his pocket and flipped the kid another quarter. “This is your lucky day. Double your tips. Here’s two bits and take a sinker, while you’re at it.”
The sad eyes widened and the frown vanished as quickly as it had appeared. “Gee, thanks, Mr. Niemand.” Joey pocketed the quarter and grabbed a sticky, chocolate covered donut. He was about to leave when he added sheepishly, “Is that swell... I mean nice lady your gal?”
Max put on a mock scowl. “None of your business. Now blow, before I regret my generosity.”
Joey’s eyebrows raised; he hugged his precious sinker. “Sorry, Mr. Niemand. Gotta go now,” he said before turning around and scampering out of the office.
Max smiled and shook his head. The kid ought to invest two bits in a toothbrush. If he don’t clean those ugly teeth, he’ll be gumming his sinkers. He leaned over the desk and opened the paper to the sports page. He unpinned the envelope and pulled out a note on fine ecru paper. He sniffed a familiar scent and recognized Vi’s neat handwriting. Ed would meet him that evening in Otto’s back room, a place set aside for poker games and weighty neighborhood confabs.
So he’s meeting me at Otto’s instead of the island docks. That means he’s settled with Burns and effectively taken over the North Side. Max considered the possibilities. Ed Mahoney was the new boss. There would be changes in Chicago, and Max would need to plan accordingly.
He glanced around his office and his eyes fixed on the area set aside for Olga. He had not thought about her for a while, and he was still waiting for a report from the detective running a background check. Oddly enough, a whiff of Vi’s perfume and a glimpse of her delicate, feminine handwriting had triggered thoughts of Olga. Max felt a compelling need, an overwhelming desire to see her, speak to her, smell her fragrance, and touch her soft skin. He fought against it. I might not survive this week. Better to keep her out of it. Don’t be weak. Focus on the task.
Max opened a desk drawer and took out a bottle and a glass. He downed a shot and lit a cigar. The Lake Street “L” rumbled by, casting a large shadow and shaking the plate glass window. He made some notes in the Levy file and then concentrated on his upcoming meeting with Ed.
* * *
A green-shaded gas mantle cast a bright cone on the center of the baize-covered card table, leaving the surrounding area in shadow. Max and Ed sat across from each other. The absence of the familiar sounds of cards shuffling, dealers interacting with players, kibitzers nattering and so forth gave Otto’s back room an eerie silence, so quiet that the light fixture’s hissing became an annoyance like a buzzing fly on the windowsill. The lath and plaster walls were bare except for a few Coca-Cola posters featuring the queenly figure of opera star Lillian Nordica.
Two of Ed’s soldiers guarded the entrance; a few more mingled with the evening crowd in the bar and restaurant. There was a knock on the door; a nattily dressed gunsel entered carrying a tray with a bottle and two glasses. He set the booze on the table and exited without a word.
“This is the stuff you like, Max,” Ed said with an ingratiating smile. “Otto’s keeping a case in reserve for me and my special guests.” The newly made boss filled the glasses with clear amber liquor and then rose to his feet. “A toast to our future.”
Max kept a straight face. He got up with his glass and waited for Ed.
“Let’s drink to Chicago,” Ed said. “A place where the streets are paved with gold for those with the eyes to see it, the guts to grab it, and the brains and muscle to keep it.”
Max echoed, “To Chicago.”
They downed their shots, and then sat and contemplated each other silently for a moment until Ed said, “I’m going to meet with Big Jim to discuss Battaglia and other business. You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Pretty sure. Battaglia needs killing, and I figure I’m up to the job.”
Ed raised an eyebrow. “I know what you can do, Max, but Battaglia’s a bad guy. He might kill you. I mean, this ain’t a sure thing.”
“I’ve considered the possibilities, but I figure the odds are in my favor. I hear guys are already making book on the fight.”
“Sure they are, and so far you’re running slightly ahead. But it’s early. Anyways, win or lose, Bugsy’s a dead man. Big Jim and me have agreed on that point. Do you think Bugsy knows?”
Max shrugged. “The guy’s nuts. All he wants is the satisfaction of killing me. He’s not capable of thinking beyond that.”
Ed poured another round. He thought a moment before saying, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He took a sip and put down the glass before continuing. “It’ll be a fair fight on neutral ground. Jim and me will work out the details. A couple of my best guys will be your seconds. What’s more, with all the betting, Big Jim and me stand to make a lot of dough. I can cut you in for say, twenty percent of my take?”
Max shook his head. “I’m not taking money from you or Colosimo. That would look like I was an employee. I’m independent. I’ll do business with you and Big Jim, just like I do with the aldermen, cops, prosecutors, judges and the rich swells that run this town. But that don’t mean I’m one of you.”
Ed frowned. “I was just making a friendly offer, Max. Take it or leave it; that’s your call.”
“I understand, Ed. I want you to be clear about where I stand.”
Ed nodded his understanding and took another sip of scotch. “Damn, this is good. Makes me think about those ‘swells’ you mentioned. We got to deal with a Fielding and a Huber. There’s a lot of dollars and pull in those families. They won’t go off as easily as Ike Burns. By the way, in case you haven’t heard, Ike and his family are on their way to St. Petersburg.”
Max grinned sarcastically. “You mean Russia?”
Ed laughed. “You’re a card. No, they’re off to sunny Florida. That should be far enough, at least for the time being. As for the countess and Fielding, we gotta convince their families to send them away, too, maybe out of the country.”
“Good idea. You know, the limey aristocrats have a good way of dealing with their black sheep. They pack them off to Africa, Australia, or India and pay them an annuity on condition they never come back. Such individuals are called remittance men.”
“I like that idea, and considering what these two ‘black sheep’ have done, the families ought to go along. What about Nora Iverson, Ollie the pimp, and their whorehouse?”
“Austin’s a clean precinct; I know the captain. Who did Ike grease?”
Ed shook his head. “Don’t know; I’m looking into it. I can’t imagine him opening up a new racket without making the right payoffs.”
“I see. I may need to contact the Madame, soon. I was setting her up for a raid. As I said, Captain Morrissey’s clean. He’d shut them down in a minute. But maybe that’s too risky, considering the circumstances?”
“Yeah, hold off on that. I’ll bring it up in my meeting with Colosimo.” Ed finished his whiskey. He thought about pouring another, but decided against it. A boss needed a clear head at all times. “I guess that finishes our business, unless you got something else on your mind?”
Max recalled something he noticed in Big Jim’s office. He mentioned it to Ed. “When I was in Colosimo’s office I noticed he had a portrait bust of Julius Caesar. You know anything about Caesar?”
Ed’s face screwed up in bewilderment. “No, except he’s been dead about a thousand years.”
“More like two thousand,” Max said. “He was the boss of all bosses in ancient Rome, but he didn’t play by their rules. He made up his own rules as he went along. Naturally, some powerful guys resented it, including one particular guy named Brutus, who Caesar treated like a son. Anyways, a bunch of those guys got together, including Brutus, jumped Caesar on the Senate floor and cut him to pieces. When Brutus stabbed the dying boss, Caesar said, ‘You, too?’ According to Shakespeare, that was ‘the unkindest cut of all.’”
Ed shook his head. “You read too much. I suppose it was that settlement house dame...” Ed caught himself. “I mean, she got you interested in all that highbrow stuff. That’s fine by me. But all that business about dead Romans and Greeks. What do you get from it?”
“Maybe we can learn something, like not to repeat the mistakes of the past.”
“Mistakes of the past, huh? The world’s fouled up, Max. It was fouled up two thousand years ago, and it’ll be fouled up two thousand years after we’re dead and gone. Nothing can change that.”
Max finished his whiskey. He gazed fixedly at the new boss for a moment before saying, “I noticed Vi’s looking very fine and fashionable. I’m glad you’re taking good care of her.”
Ed frowned as though he did not think this a fit subject for a business conference. “Vi’s all right. I’ve set her up in a nice place near Lincoln Park.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I think you’ll find she’s worth it.”
“Yeah, ” Ed muttered. “You know, she ain’t got such nice words for you.”
Max smiled. “I guess things didn’t end so well with us. Anyways, I figure she’s better off with you.”
Ed stared at Max. What does he mean by that? he thought. Then he decided to leave the subject and call it a night. He got up from his chair and held out his hand. “Good luck, Max.”
“Same to you, Ed.” Max rose and shook the new boss’s hand.
Ed called out to his soldiers. The meeting was adjourned.
Copyright © 2015 by Gary Inbinder
