Gilbert then explained, in some detail, how he was trying to invest for his son, how he was worried that on a public servant’s salary he couldn’t provide well enough for his family... and how he had “pyramided” his holdings to $100,000 in the bull market, losing all but $15,000 in the crash of ’29. But he had rebuilt — speculating in grain, diversifying by purchasing shares of Pepsi Cola, Union Pacific, and AT&T.
Halley seemed spellbound by this recitation of financial legerdemain, but finally blurted: “Captain Gilbert, may I ask a question?”
“Certainly, sir.”
“When do you find time to take care of your law enforcement duties?”
“Why, every day — sometimes twenty-four hours when we are working cases.”
“To me, you have quite an active financial business that would have to be watched very closely.”
Shrug. “The telephone is all that does it. The broker I’m dealing with will call me up.”
Halley’s expression might be seen at a car wreck — a bad one, involving fatalities. “You don’t think this interferes with your law enforcement duties?”
“No.”
“It hasn’t cut in on your time and energy?”
“Not whatsoever, no, sir.”
Halley’s eyes behind his round lenses were huge. “You’ve been able to amass this fortune in just your spare time — a hobby, so to speak.”
“That is right.”
“But you also find time for betting.”
“That’s the telephone.”
“That’s the telephone, too?”
“All I do is pick up the phone and make the bet. Doesn’t take five minutes.”
“When you’re betting on sporting events, Captain, where do you place your bets?”
“With a handbook at 215 North LaSalle.”
“Is this legal betting?”
“Well... no sir, it is not. Not in the strictest sense, not legal, no.”
“In your job, as the chief investigator for the State’s Attorney, would one of your duties be to raid handbooks — bookie joints, like the one you frequent?”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever done so?”
“Certainly!”
“When was the last time?”
“...1939, I believe.”
As Halley was digesting that juicy tidbit, Robinson asked, “Do you think a person with a ‘gambler’s heart’ can take the right approach in putting down bookmaking?”
“Yes.”
“And other forms of gambling?”
“Yes.”
“What is the difference between your betting on sporting events and elections, and betting on a horse race in a handbook?”
“Well... of course I don’t know what the difference is.”
“Then how can you make a distinction on whether to raid a place or not?”
Tubbo thought about that; then he offered, in what sounded like a question, “If you make a bet in a gambling place on a horse race, it is against the law.”
That one left Robinson reeling, as Kefauver leaned in and took over the questioning, starting with: “Do you know these so-called gangsters, Captain? The Fischettis and Guzik and Accardo?”
“Yes, I know them from seeing them.”
“I mean, have you ever had any relationship with them?”
“No sir. I never did.”
“No business dealings whatsoever?”
“No, sir. None whatsoever.”
“Are you under any obligation to them?”
“No. I am not.”
“Well, what do you think the problem is, here in Cook County? Our own investigators have noted numerous gambling operations running unimpeded.”
Tubbo held his head high. “There are no gambling operations now in the city of Chicago. There have been some in the county, of late, but I am satisfied, should I be elected as sheriff, that we will drive that evil element out, the same as we have driven it out of Chicago.”
Halley — properly astounded by having so outrageous a load of horseshit dumped before him — cleaved the air with that whine of his. “The charge has been made that in all your time as chief investigator, Captain Gilbert, you have not sent any major gangster to jail.”
Tubbo seemed hurt by this suggestion. “That is simply not so — besides, there is no other officer who has done that, either.”
Not bothering to stop to make sense of that, Halley pressed on. “And of course there are numerous unsolved murders in Chicago.”
Another shrug. “There’s numerous unsolved murders all over the United States.”
Halley nodded, as if that were a reasonable response. “Then, Captain, let’s talk about one unsolved murder in particular.”
“All right. If I know anything about it.”
“What can you tell us about the murder of William Drury?”
“Terrible. A terrible thing.”
“You’ve been investigating this murder. Have you uncovered anything?”
“Mr. Halley, there is no police officer gifted with a supernatural mind... You have to understand, when these gangsters go out and kill they are as precise and detailed in their work as an architect. If a murder is committed by a mobster or gangster element, they leave no traces.”
Halley answered that speech with one of his own: “Wouldn’t the man in the street say to himself, if only Captain Gilbert weren’t concentrating on whether or not to buy and sell stocks and bonds, wouldn’t he have given just a little more thought to finding out who killed Bill Drury?”
The chin went up again. “Any time a crime is committed in the city of Chicago and I work on it, I give my wholehearted effort.”
“And that includes the murder of William Drury?”
