Макс Коллинз - Road to Purgatory

“Nothing. He’s probably here to try to shut you down.”

She followed Michael to the door, but he turned and took her by the arms. “Let me deal with this.”

Estelle drew in a deep breath, considering taking issue; then she let the air out and nodded. She sat in a chair by the window, and folded her hands primly in her lap, Rush Street neon winking through the curtains next to her.

In the hallway, Michael saw the T-shirted bandits, too groggy to be pissed off yet, on their feet and in the process of getting hauled off by the uniformed men.

Michael gave Ness a hard look, indicating it wasn’t safe to talk, and said, “I heard the gunshot and ran out into the hall... I have a license to carry.”

He patted the .45, snugged back under his shoulder.

“Fine,” Ness said. “Come with me.”

Michael followed him down the hall and past a shot-up door into a suite done up in whorehouse red, though otherwise identical to the blue room.

Cowering under the covers, wide eyes peeking over their edges, was a 26 girl named Marie, a cute little brunette Michael knew only to say hello to; apparently the robbers had been sharing her, or maybe one had opted for the sidelines. Neither Ness nor Lieutenant Drury acknowledged her existence, much less her presence.

Drury was standing at the bedstand, where a wallet was open and the detective was thumbing a wad of bills.

“Pretty flush couple of fellas, huh?” Drury said idly.

Ness asked, “Without the jewelry, can you make it stick?”

Drury nodded; he had dark alert eyes, a jutting nose, and, though not particularly heavyset, a double chin that cushioned his firm jaw.

“We have the fence,” Drury said, “and we can put both of ’em in the hotel. I think they have an accomplice here, probably a bartender, who called and gave ’em the all clear. We’ll see if they give the guy up.”

Ness was shaking his head. “Doesn’t matter. They’re finished here.”

Not sure he understood what Ness meant, Michael asked Drury, “What’s going on?”

Drury was the police contact Ness had mentioned several times, so he knew damn well who Michael was; but with the little naked brunette witness quivering under the bedsheets, the detective knew enough not to make that evident.

“You’ve figured out,” Drury said, “that we were after those jewelry punks.”

“But the robbery warrant gave us entree to the Colony Club,” Ness said, “where we’ve discovered all kinds of law-breaking — including, on this floor, prostitution.”

Marie said, “I am not!”

Ignoring that, Ness said, “Anticipating as much, we brought along half a dozen paddy wagons. We’ve already shut down the casino, though with so many lawbreakers on the premises, we’ll have to make a number of trips.”

“And about now,” Drury said, “my boys will be knocking on doors all up and down this floor — taking johns and whores into custody.”

“I am not!” Marie insisted.

Ness said to Michael, “We appreciate your help, sir... We haven’t got your name yet, have we?”

“It’s Satariano. Michael Satariano.”

Playacting, Drury said, “Oh, Medal of Honor winner! Well, you deserve another one, for nabbing these bad guys.”

“They’re not local,” Michael said. “I’ve been around the club every night this week, and heard ’em making conversation at the bar. They said they were salesmen.”

“Selling what?”

“Judging by who they turned out to be, I’d say selling themselves as salesmen.”

Ness nodded, apparently liking that analysis.

Drury asked, “Speak to them yourself, Mr. Satariano?”

“No. They were obnoxious. I kept my distance. But looking back, I can see they suddenly turned into high rollers, after that robbery.”

“Thanks for not keeping your distance tonight,” Drury said. “We knocked on the door and announced ourselves, and they started shooting. We ducked in the stairwell, and they ran out and shot some more. We’re both lucky not to be ventilated.”

“Glad to help,” Michael said flatly. “Anything else, fellas?”

“Unfortunately,” Ness said, “you’ll have to come over to the station house, to make a statement.”

“Can’t I make that here?”

With unmistakable, nonnegotiable firmness, Ness said, “No.”

“Well, I’m down the hall with my girlfriend. I assure you I’m not a john, and she’s not a whore.”

“Me neither,” Marie whimpered, mascara running.

Michael continued: “She’s one of the owners and managers of the club.”

“Estelle Carey?” Drury asked.

Michael nodded.

“Well,” Drury said smugly, “that’s handy.”

“What do you mean, handy?”

Ness said, “We want to talk to her, too.”

Michael did his best to reassure Estelle that everything would be fine, though sounds from the street below — officious yelling by cops, car and paddy wagon doors slamming, the frightened/irritated yammer and babbling of those being rounded up — undermined his efforts.

Finally Ness came around to collect them. Drury was chatting with another plainclothes cop in the hall, a Sergeant O’Connor, who was taking over the supervisory role. Then Michael and Estelle were escorted by Ness and Drury down the elevator and through the downstairs, where a small army of boys in blue were ushering indignant socialites out to waiting paddy wagons on Rush Street, the red-and-blue lights of police vehicles competing with neons.

Michael and Estelle were driven in an unmarked car to turn-of-the-century Town Hall Station, a formidable red-brick building on the corner of Addison and Halsted. Within ten minutes, inside a small interrogation chamber whose walls and ceiling were acoustically tiled, Michael and Ness sat at a small scarred wooden table.

Michael — his tie off, his collar open — glanced around: the usual two-way mirror was absent.

Noting Michael taking stock, Ness tossed his fedora on the table and said, “It’s secure.”

“It’s not rigged for eavesdropping?”

“No. Some of the other booths are. Like the one Lieutenant Drury’s questioning your friend Estelle Carey in.”

“You’re shutting her down?”

“The Colony Club’ll be a memory by tomorrow.”

“Won’t it reopen? It’s a protected joint.”

He shook his head. “Tomorrow morning I’m holding a press conference at the Colony. Every paper in town will have pictures of the casino and the third-floor cathouse.”

“Sounds like good advertising.”

“No. They’re done. Something will open to take its place, no doubt — but the Colony’s over.”

Michael grunted a humorless laugh. “Real blow you struck for Uncle Sam — some serviceman hangout.”

“It’s the Outfit we’re squeezing. That was fortuitous, tonight.”

“Me saving your ass, you mean?”

Ness smiled, barely. “Well... that, and it giving us a chance to talk privately. You’ve been something of a stranger, Michael. You don’t call... you don’t write...”

“You said you were going to be out of town.”

“I gave you Lieutenant Drury’s number. You’ve been back from Miami for well over a week. What went on down there?”

“Why, what do you hear?”

“Just a few rumblings.”

“Such as?”

Ness shrugged. “They’ve imported some new staff.”

Michael shrugged. “Security’s an issue, on the Capone estate.”

Eyes narrowing, Ness leaned forward, slightly. “Did you see Capone? Talk to him?”

“I saw him.”

“What’s his, uh... mental state?”

Michael fixed a cold gaze on the fed. “You knew , didn’t you?”

Ness, all innocence, blinked twice. “Knew what?”

Now Michael sat forward. “You manipulated me into infiltrating Frank Nitti’s inner circle, so I could finally settle up with the man who had my father killed.”