“Swell,” I said, “but Jake, or Jack, is an old union goon, with strong ties to Captain Dan Gilbert — you know... Tubbo? Do you really want somebody from Tubbo’s camp pretending to be your buddy?”
Robinson and Halley exchanged glances.
Kurnitz said, “You must be aware, then, that your friend Mr. Drury is investigating Gilbert.”
“Sure, hoping to expose him before the election — but
O’Conner didn’t walk me out. I had a feeling he’d probably given me a pretty good build-up — friend of Drury’s, ex-cop who’d stood up against mobsters — and I’d made him look like an idiot.
When I got off the elevator in the lobby, the guy in the green snapbrim was still reading the
“I thought that was you,” I told the guy.
Sam Giancana looked over at me from behind the paper, lowered it to his lap, and under the brim of the green hat, his gray-complected oval face, with its lumpy beak and close-set mournful eyes, gave me no clue to how he was reacting.
They called the little hoodlum Mooney because of his crazy unpredictability. The former chauffeur/bodyguard of Tony Accardo, and Paul Ricca’s likely heir as Chicago mob boss, Giancana was a quietly self-confident psychopath.
He smiled. “That’s what I like about you, Heller.”
“What is, Sam?”
“That you’re not afraid of me.”
“Maybe I’m just not afraid of you in the lobby of the Stevens at lunchtime.”
He laughed; it was a raspy, death rattle of a laugh. “That’s the other thing I like: you’re a funny guy. Natural fuckin’ wit.”
What he really liked about me was my discretion. I had done a job for him a couple of years ago, getting an embarrassing photograph back. He had paid well, and hadn’t forgotten I’d done right by him.
Also, he was probably comfortable with me because we were both Westside boys, though he wasn’t a Maxwell Street kid like Barney and me (and Jack Ruby); he was a product of the Near Northside’s infamous Patch, and a veteran of the vicious street gang, the 42s. His legend was based upon having endured an abusive father until he finally grew up, beat the shit out of the old man, and took over the household.
I said, “I hope you don’t mind my sitting down to say hello.”
“Not at all.” He folded the paper and put it next to him on the tufted couch. “You weren’t upstairs long. Having a quick one? What’s her name?”
“Kefauver.”
He twitched a sick smile. “I didn’t think ‘she’ was in town.”
“No, but her sisters are.”
“Good-looking girls?”
Now I twitched a smile. “Sam, don’t ask me to tell you who I talked to up there.”
“Did I ask? I don’t remember asking.”
“You see, the way this works, Sam, is I don’t inform on anybody, on either side. I’m not playing — I’m not even in this game.”
One shoulder shrugged. “If you don’t want to tell me you talked to Robinson and Halley and Kurnitz and Drury’s pal O’Conner, that’s fine. But I would like to know what you told them.”
I shrugged both mine. “I told them if they’re dumb enough to call me as a witness, my amnesia will recur. Or I’ll plead the fifth, or attorney-client privilege.”
The cold eyes were studying me. “That’s all you told them?”
“That’s all... Well — you saw Rubinstein, I take it?”
“Am I gonna not notice another Westsider? I saw the prick.”
“Well, I told them Jake went way back with Tubbo, and if he told ’em anything, they should consider the source. And that’s all the help I gave them,”
“That’s all?”
“That’s the boat.”
He nodded slowly. “I appreciate this. Your frankness.”
“Can I ask a favor?”
“Ask.”
“I told Charley Fischetti I wasn’t going to cooperate with these clowns; I think he knows I can be trusted. Sam, would you make sure Guzik knows? And Accardo, and Ricca?”
“I can do that.”
“I don’t need anybody thinking I’m a problem.”
“Like your friend Drury is a problem?”
“Like that.”
“What
“He’s still my friend, Sam. But you probably heard, I fired him.”
“I did hear. That’s for real?”
“That’s for real.”
“Okay. Appreciate it.”
I knew this friendly, even charming little man could turn on a dime, but I had to risk it...
“Sam — these guys, these Crime Committee guys, you know they’re not worth killing anybody over.”
He had his shark eyes fixed on me. “What are you trying to say, Heller?”
“Bill Drury — and Tim O’Conner, for that matter — are just a couple of cops trying to get their badges back. Bill’s still flogging the Ragen shooting. Two of the shooters are long since missing, and the other one, well... that’s your world, not mine.”
“Seems like yesterday’s news to me.”
