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I stood there,
the gun still warm in my hand, barrel smoking from the gun battle.
“Why did he do
that, Sarge? I tried my best to
talk him out of it.”
“Living with
the guilt finally got to him, Patti.”
“Couldn’t he
have talked it over?”
“No, the only
thing worse than being a dirty cop, is being the son of a loose cannon, and
none came looser than Bill Chart, Patti.”
I looked
around. There lay the body of
Bill's son, my ex-partner, Adrian Chart.
“I had no
choice, he pulled first, Sarge," I said through my tears.
“I know, Patti,
we all saw it. Nobody blames
you. It was his way out.”
The last thing
I remember was the Sarge saying in a soft tone, "Take a week off Patti,
something like this will haunt you. I know. I have been there myself.” Dazed, I stood there, trying to
remember how it had all started . . .
* * *
I'd wanted an
office and had pestered the sergeant for months for a place to work. For my sins, I'd got this dark and
dingy office with paperwork piled high of old, unsolved murders. The air was dank with the musty smell
of old paper, a place where light had long gone missing. This was Middleton Detective Agency.
Even hardened drunks avoided this run down area of town. Sitting at the back of the office, I
looked in desolation at the pile of old cases Sgt. Pug Phillips had recently
dumped on me.
“Why don’t I
get anything good?” I muttered,
knowing nobody was listening, or if they were, they didn't care. Cold coffee was still on the table from
last night, the ring marks showing how I had spent the long, hot and humid days
at Middleton going over old and long-forgotten cases which had been given to me
just so I'd have something to do
“A young girl,
trying to do a man's job" is what the crew said on that first day months
ago.”
Here I was,
stuck at the back end of nowhere, in a dark office so lonely I had to get my
own coffee and doughnuts. The guys never took any notice. I often wondered if they would notice if
I just didn't turn up.
I'd never been
a girlie girl. I was always
looking for a mystery to solve rather than play with dolls or admire film
stars. And this was my reward! A deadbeat job, in a run-down office,
in the worst part of town.
Sometimes, I wish
I'd just got married like the others; had a nice cosy life and a good husband,
I muttered to myself – then, ‘Hell, no! Patti, where did that come from,
gal?” The drudgery and boredom
were getting to me. All these
cases! Some go back to the
'20's. Most of the witnesses are
dead now, I mumbled under my breath. Trust me to get cases that are not only
cold, but deader than the dodo.
Sitting there
alone, I was surprised to hear a knock on the door. I was more surprised that anyone knew where I was. Standing in the doorway was an old man,
leaning on his cane.
“Please come in
and sit down.”
“Thank you,
young lady," he said. "I have information on an old case, you might
like to re-open.”
“Why not ask at
the desk?”
“They closed
the book years ago, and don’t want old wounds re-opened, that is why.”
“Which case is
this?”
“It's one from
the '20s. The Morrissey/Jeffries
case.”
“What can you
tell me about it and why should we re-open it now?”
“I am telling
you about it because I'm dying and I want to clear this case up. You get it re-opened, and I will let
you know what I know.”
‘How can I
trust you?’
“Just tell Pug,
that Dennis spoke to you.”
The man got up
and walked back down the corridor. When I got up to see which way he went, all
I saw was a whiff of smoke.
Looking through the case files I was totally disheartened to see how
many had just been left open, with no closure for the families. Back then, the force could not spare
the manpower to chase up leads, what with all the gangsters and bootlegging.
With Mayor
Johnson going for a second term, he needed to show power to the mobs, so all
the force was put on alert, and other crimes became second rate.
“So sad,"
I thought. "These poor people
never had closure.”
One thing about
the Morrissey/Jeffries killing back in 1926 really caught my eye. Link
Morrissey and his girl, Darlene Jeffries went for a drive, but never arrived at
her parents' house, even though it was only twenty minutes across town.
Getting up from
the desk, I walked back down the dark corridor to the elevator shaft. Pushing the button to call the aged
machine into action, all I could hear was the grinding of gears, as the cable
span on the wheel.
“Shit. Not
again. When are they going to fix
this damn thing?”
Setting off up
the ten flights of stairs to the main office, I was already imagining the calls
from the men, “Here comes Nancy Drew, lads.”
Leading the
barrage, as always, would be Adrian Chart. The man was as roughneck as they came. If he did not draw blood, then it was a
lousy fight. Seven years ago his
old man, Bill Chart, had passed away, and Adrian was just like his dad. His wife had left him six years ago,
and then he hit the bottle hard.
A common theory
as to why Chart kept his job was that the bosses needed his street knowledge to
track the mobs. As a cop, he was
one of the worst on the force - but for cracking the heads of gangsters, he had
no equal. They said he lost it all
when Maggie left him. After that,
he didn't care what happened. He'd
go in first and take as many down as he could, before a proper enquiry began.
The only
trouble was, Chart was as much a threat to his colleagues as he was to the
mobs. He was often so out of
control that a situation that could have possibly been resolved, often ended up
almost as a gun battle.
Every day for
the last month, when I've logged in, I've had to cope with Chart and his
cronies jeering and cat calling.
Chart, and about eight other old-school cops, call ladies ‘doll’, and
they should stay at home and tend to the men folk.
As I walked in,
Chart swung around in his chair, “Well look who…”
As he spoke, I realized I had had
enough. I felt the need to be
recognized for what I do – now!
Before he could
finish his sentence, I swung a left and hit him on the jaw. The force rocked him in his chair so
violently that he banged his head on the desk.
“Any one else
fancy taking on Nancy Drew? You
over there – you look tough!
Chart's friends
gaped, taken aback to see how easily he had been taken.
“Let me just
inform you all - I might be female and ladylike most of the time, but you rile
this gal, and she'll turn wildcat on you - so feel free fellows.” The squad
room remained quiet as I walked to the sergeant's desk, my hips swinging with
the grace of a gazelle. I gave
them a smile and a wink.
I approached
the desk with grace and poise, not letting the pain of the blow show, as I
gritted teeth.
“Finally got
what he deserved there, Patti,” the Sarge said. "Saw it building last
week. I was halfway to telling him to back off ya, but knew the only way he
would, is if you slugged him.
Remind me not to get on your bad side. That was one hell of a left you
packed, gal,” he said with a wink.
“That's nothing
Sarge, you oughta see my right.”
“Where did you
get those moves?"
“Wrong side of
the wrong town; living hand to mouth; when you're fighting for anything, you
learn not to back down. I don't look for fights, but I never back down."
“I don’t think
he'll bother you none now, Patti.”
“Well not for a
week or two. I know his sort, Sarge.
He just festers away, waiting for a chance to get even. Sarge, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, Patti,
what’s on your mind?”
“Sarge, do you
remember the Morrissey/Jeffries case?"
“Of
course. I was in my first year on
the streets, and we never figured it out. It's bugged me ever since."
“I've been
looking it over, and was wondering if you could you give me the background, as
the notes are sketchy.”
“No
problem. It was towards the end of
Mayor Johnson's first term in office.
The mobs were running us ragged.
Everywhere we turned, they had us outgunned, out manned and seemed to
know our every move.”
“Leak from this
side?”
“Looked like
it, but we couldn't find out who it was.”
“What was going
on at the time?”
“Morrissey and
the Jeffries families were two of the biggest families in Midtown. Duke
Jeffries was the boss of the largest fleet of trucks in the area, and Mal
Morrissey was the biggest maker of hooch. We got wind they were going to link up for a talk
somewhere, but it never happened in the end.”
“Why not?”
“When the
shooting came, both families blamed each other, and never got to the table.”
“So who took
over then?”
“That is the
strange thing. Nobody stepped up
to the plate. A power
vacuum was created. Anyone could
have taken charge and joined them as a neutral, but nobody did.”
Thank you for the publicity Jerry :)
ReplyDeleteThere are two more Pat Canella books for sale.
ReplyDeleteGhosts of your past & the just released "Hunted down" which made
No. 27 in the Amazon.co.uk horror anthology section