Part 25 (1/2)
There was one more thought left unspoken. If Bobbi were still alive, they would be keeping her as a food source. Oh, G.o.d.
The phone rang, I reached it first, but let Escott do the answering. Gordy was on the other end. Escott had once told me I had no real idea on the grip and influence the mobs had in Chicago. It must have been pretty strong-he had an address.
”I'm coining over,” he said. ”You got some iron?”
Escott said yes, but I shook my head and asked for the earpiece.
”Gordy, this is Jack. If what I think has happened has happened, guns ain't gonna work, at least not on one of them.”
”So what can we do?”
”Can you get some shotguns?”
”No problem.”
”And some extra sh.e.l.ls?”
”No problem.”
”And one more thing...”I told him what. Escott's brows went up in surprise and interest.
Gordy considered and again said: ”No problem. I'm sending some boys over to watch the place 'til we get there. Sit light 'til I come for you.”
Almost as soon as we hung up it rang again.
”h.e.l.lo? What? Oh, yes.” He pa.s.sed it to me.
I answered thinking it was Marza.
The masculine voice was a jarring shock. ”Jack, I want to talk with you.”
”Dad?” Oh, h.e.l.l.
”What kind of trouble are you into?”
”Trouble? What's the matter?””That's something you can tell me. The cops were by here just now wanting to know where you are.”
”Did you tell them?”
”h.e.l.l no. Not until I know what's going on. They wouldn't say and your mother's throwing a fit, so start talking, boy.”
h.e.l.l and d.a.m.nation. ”Dad, this is just some kind of a mix-up to do with those two con men.”
”I'm listening.”
I suddenly felt six years old again with Dad towering over me, ready to get the razor strop. I had to consciously shake off the image and remember I was thirty years older and a lot taller. ”Okay, what happened is that the little guy Braxton got shot and killed, and the kid thinks I'm involved, so he sent the cops to look me up.”
A long silence.
”That's the truth. Dad. The kid saw me in the same building. They were following me to make trouble, and then some-one b.u.mped off Braxton. The kid got knocked out. He saw the killer, but not the killing. He knew I was there so he gave my name to the cops, and yours, too.”
The language that followed heated the lines up, and then he repeated the story to Mom, who began groaning in the background.
”Look, why don't you pick up one of the Chicago papers? They're full of the whole story-”
”I did. It's the 'Studio Slaying,' isn't it?”
”Yes, Dad.”
”What were you doing there, anyway?”
”I went to see the show.”
”Why couldn't you have seen the show on the radio?” he said illogically. ”What are you going to do? Are you going to the cops?”
Double h.e.l.l. ”I don't know.”
”What do you mean?”
”I mean this whole thing stinks.”
”You're d.a.m.n right it stinks,” he agreed, his voice rising.
”I mean I need some time to get things straightened out.””What things?”
”It'd take too long to explain. If my boss thought I was really involved with this I could lose my job, and I don't want to lose my job.”
”And I don't want the cops coming around here again.”
”I know. Look, could you just hold off giving them this number?”
”For how long?”
”I don't know.”
”s.h.i.+t!”
”Dad, I've got good reasons for staying out of this, but I can't go into them now.”
He growled, hemmed and hawed, but in the end decided he could even if he didn't like it. Then we said good-bye.
I put the earpiece back. ”This is ridiculous. The kid sicced the cops on my parents to try and find me.”
”So I gathered.”
”What a pain in the a.s.s.”