Part 9 (1/2)

'Better be no next time. He'll tear off your head and s.h.i.+t down your neck. From what I hear, he skins his knees he still mentions you. I think what it is is his feelings got hurt.'

'That must be it.' I had some idea to ask if Al knew what Gino was investigating, in hopes of getting a little more info on Kam, but all in all, I'd probably pressed my luck already.

'Yeah,' said Al, just filling in, hitching up his trousers, which dropped six inches every time he rocked on the b.a.l.l.s of his feet. 'You got a lot to watch out for,' he told me.

That part wasn't news.

XIII. WHO SAYS LAWYERS AREN'I TOUGH?

A. Toots's Walls I was received in Toots's law offices with the air of ceremonial grandeur undoubtedly lavished on every guest. Stumbling along on his cane, his cigar extinguished but comfortably couched inside his jaw, he introduced me to each secretary and half his partners, the greatly renowned Mack Malloy, who was helping out the Colonel on that ethics thing. Then he showed me into his office and propounded a lengthy commentary on each memento on the walls.

Toots's office should have been moved intact to a museum somewhere, if not as a monument to twentieth-century political life then to one individual's capacity for self-appreciation. It was a virtual Colonel Toots Nuccio shrine. There were of course signed photos of the Colonel with every Democratic President from FDR forward, and two with Eisenhower, Toots in uniform in both. There were plaques from B'nai B'rith (Man of the Year), Little Sisters of the Poor, and the Kindle County Art Museum. There was a special award from the symphony, a clarinet cast in bronze; religious relics received from grateful clerics; and a lengthy salutatory letter from the Urban League, perhaps the only compliment Toots had received from people of color in the last thirty years, but which nonetheless had been framed. There was a gavel he'd been given from the City Council upon his retirement, his years of service engraved on the bra.s.s hand that circled the mallet head, and scores of photos of Toots with sports stars and political luminaries, some so long gone that their names had vanished from memory. At the absolute focus of attention, mounted immediately above his ponderous old desk, were his medals, aligned in a gla.s.s-doored case with a separate little high-intensity lamp that trained on Toots's silver star, which was pinned to black velvet. I spent the required instant marveling at it, wondering as I always would if it had been awarded for real bravery or as part of one of Toots's inevitable deals. Within these walls, one tended to realize that self-congratulation, the collection of banners and ribbons, was far more real to Toots, far more important than the events they were intended to commemorate.

'So,' he said, finally seated, 'I didn't figure you made house calls.'

'Occasionally. There's something I want to talk to you about.' 'This here hearing?'

I told him it was something else and hiked my chair a little closer.

'Toots. Can a fella ask a question? Between friends?'

He gave me the usual fulsome stuff, for me anything. I replied in kind, saying he was the only person in the tri-counties I knew who might be able to answer this. He smiled, deeply pleased by any compliment, without regard to its sincerity.

'I wondered if you might have heard something around town. There's an insurance guy, an actuary, who the papers say is missing. Vernon Koech.e.l.l. They call him Archie. What I have to find out is if you know any reason for somebody to pop him.'

Toots laughed quite merrily, as if I had made a saucy remark just within the borders of good taste. The shrunken old face showed not a sign of even vague offense, but I noticed that he had drawn back on his walking stick and within the milky elderly eyes was perhaps lodged a trace of something lethal.

'Mack, my friend, can I make a little suggestion?'

'Sure.'

'Ask another question.' I stopped on that.

'See, Mack, I got a rule for life. Always followed it since I didn't even have hair on my chin. I known you a long time now. You're a smart fella. But let me share my thinking with you: Don't talk about other people's business. It's their business and it's for them to worry about.'

I received this advice solemnly. Looking at me, Toots winked.

'I hear you, Colonel, but I've got a real problem.'

'Whatsa matter? He rate you on your policy or what?'

'Here's how it is, Colonel. I have a partner missing, a guy named Kamin. Bert Kamin. Where he's gone, I haven't the foggiest. But this guy Archie, he's got a white s.h.i.+rt on and a nice tie, but he's keeping a book. And my guy Kamin's laying bets with him. At least that's the way it looks.' I peeked up at Toots. I had his attention.

'Anyway, Archie, he's quite dead. That's a fact. Something I know. And pretty soon, any minute now, the coppers are going to show up to talk to me about that. And I'm frankly not interested in getting myself in Dutch with the wrong folks. So that's why I ask. I gotta know what's doing here, because I may have to do some fancy steppin'.' I tried to look hangdog and sincere, reverencing one of the many powers that dominated Toots's life. He wasn't really buying it.

'You a straight shooter, Mack?'

'As much as the next guy.'

Toots laughed. He liked that. He removed the cigar and in the gloomy light of the room considered the mangled end. It looked like a hunk of seaweed pulled up on a line.

'You understand with bookies,' he said.

'Not everything.'

'See this here - Guy makes a book, you know, he's got to lay off, right?'

'Like insurance companies. He doesn't absorb all the risk. I understand that much.'

'This guy, he had some very good luck. Somehow he always had laid off his losing action.'

I waited.

'How could he lay off only losing bets? Doesn't he lay off beforehand? I mean, before the event. The race, the game, whatever?'

'That he does,' said Toots.

I was on very delicate ground. Toots worked lovingly on his cigar.

'You mean he knew how these events were going to come out? Is that what you're saying? He knew these games were fixed?'

'You see,' said Toots, 'you share risks, you share no-risks. Capisc'? A fella's gotta look out for his friends. Otherwise he don't got friends, he got enemies. Right? That's how life is, right?'

'That's how it seems to be, Toots. There are no victims.'

Toots liked that one. No need to explain it to him.

'So you see,' he said, 'you asked a question, you asked another question, you told me some things, I told you some things, we had a talk. Okay? Somebody asks, some things you know, some things you don't know. Right?'

'Right.'

'Sure,' said Toots. He gave a quick, smug, frightening little laugh. 'So. We gonna win this hearing?'

'I wish I could tell you yes, Colonel. The hill's pretty steep.'

He shrugged, here in his element capable of seeming worldlywise, ripened by life.

'Give it your best. I ain't gonna get the death penalty, right?'

We agreed on that.

'And who's there, you or the skirt?'

'The skirt's good,' I told him.

'They say,' said Toots. 'So they say. Bit of a punchboard, I hear.' I'd known he would check her out. 'Woman of the world,' I answered. 'A big world,' he said.

'I'll try to be there, Colonel. I have to worry about this too. Archie. Bert.'

He understood. Sometimes a fella got himself into a spot. He walked me to the door.