Max Collins - Neon Mirage

“How so?”

“Well, when you’re the boss, and you’re building up a business from scratch, you put in a lot of hours, like your dad did. Only at least he managed to marry the girl next door. I haven’t had much of a personal life.”

“You mean you’re thirty-eight years old and still single.”

“If I don’t settle down soon, people are going to start thinking I’m a fag.”

Her face went crinkly with a smile at the thought of that. “I don’t think that’s too likely. Say, you’re not proposing, are you?”

“Not just yet. Not after I saw your work with a flower vase. I bet you’d be murder with a rolling pin.”

She flashed those perfect white teeth. She touched the side of my face. “If you ever do get around to asking me…well, even if you don’t, I’ll still love you, you big lug.”

Men love it when women call them big lugs. Anyway, I do.

“Why will you still love me?” I asked. Begging for more flattery.

“Because you’ve really taught me so much.”

“Oh?”

“About the kind of man I want to marry. Even if it doesn’t turn out to be you. The things I admire about you are the things I saw in my father, and in my Uncle Jim. You care about what you do, and you care about people.”

I knew a certain badly bruised party on the Near Northwest Side who’d disagree with her on the latter, but I let that go.

“You really love your Uncle Jim, don’t you?”

“That’s what I started to say…I always felt closer to my uncle than to my father. Uncle Jim was always swell-he never treated us kids like kids, more like we were just people.”

“I’ve always had the feeling Jim was the black sheep of your family.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. But I know Papa wasn’t crazy about him. About the business he was in.”

“But it seemed kind of glamorous to you.”

“I think so. The gambling, the big money, names from the headlines, men with guns, beautiful women with minks and gowns.”

“Like your old pal Virginia Hill.”

“She’s back in town, by the way.”

I sat up in bed. “What?”

“She’s back in town. Visiting that friend of hers, what was his name? Joe Epstein. They’re still thick, after all these years. Imagine that.”

“Why, have you heard from her?”

“Well, yes. I had lunch with her last Friday. In the Walnut Room at Marshall Field’s. She looked me up.”

“She looked you up!” I gripped her arm. “Tell me about it.”

“Ouch! You’re hurting me.”

“Sorry,” I said. I let go. “Tell me about it.”

“It was no big deal. She called me on the phone, at the office. I’ve seen her a few times over the years. We’ve had lunch before. She’s kept in touch with her girls.”

“What did she want?”

“To have lunch! Nate, what’s the big deal?”

“Did she question you about your uncle, at all? His daily schedule?”

“No,” she said, very confused. “Why would she?”

“Did your uncle come up in conversation in any way?”

“Well-yes. She asked about his business.”

“What did she ask about his business?”

“How he was doing. How’s the tip sheet racket these days, is what she wanted to know. I said my uncle was doing great and left it at that.”

“That was the extent of it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes I’m sure! Nate…”

“Good girl. Listen, do you remember me telling you, years ago, that Epstein was Jake Guzik’s accountant?”

She rubbed the side of her face; her eyes went dark with worry. “Oh…oh, my. I’d forgotten that…I’ve never seen Epstein, not in years. I never thought past Virginia herself, when she called. I never dreamed…you don’t think she was trying to pump me about my uncle-for Guzik? Nate, you don’t think I inadvertently aided them in setting up Uncle Jim, for that shooting today?”

“If you didn’t say anything about his daily routine, no. If you did…yes.”

“I didn’t.” But her eyes were racing, as she thought back, making sure she hadn’t. Then her look became determined and she said: “I didn’t.”

“Good. Stay away from the Hill dame. I said it before, and I hope to never have to say it again: she’s poison.”

She frowned in thought for a while, then said, “I guess this proves it, then.”

“What?”

“That Guzik was the one responsible for what happened to Uncle Jim.”

“Not really. He’s not the only one La Hill has connections with. Haven’t you kept up on your old mentor’s career?”

“Sure. There’s been a lot in the papers about her. Lee Mortimer’s column, especially. She’s the belle of cafe society- hostess of big cocktail parties in New York and Hollywood. At places like Ciro’s on the Sunset Strip.”

“Ever been to any of those joints?”

“Nathan, I’ve never even been to Hollywood.”

“It’s a great place. The buildings are made of mud and cardboard-you can put your foot through any given wall.”

“I can’t believe that. You’re so cynical. It sounds like a fabulous place to me.”

“Why, you still thinking of becoming an actress?”

“No. I let go of that dream a long time ago. But Ginny was in a movie.”

“Really? I must’ve missed that.”

“Well, it was her only one. Little role. She’s busy with all her social obligations, I guess.”

“Where’s her money coming from, you suppose?”

“Epstein, other guys like him. She used to have this other sugar daddy, Major Riddle.”

I nodded. “He owns the Plantation Club in Moline. Pretty ritzy gambling joint.”

It always came back to gambling, didn’t it?

“She’s done all right,” she said, troubled by the thought that her good, old friend might have tried to use her.

“She’s had another sugar daddy in recent years,” I told her. “Fellow named Joe Adonis.”

Her eyes turned into slits. “Isn’t he a gangster?”

“He ain’t a Greek god. She gets her money from mob guys, baby. Epstein and Riddle, who are tied in through gambling, and the likes of Adonis, who’s tied in to every dirty racket you can imagine, from murder-for-hire to peddling heroin.”

Her eyes widened. “So then what I said was right: Ginny was after information for Guzik.”

“Not necessarily. Adonis is East Coast, and Virginia Hill has been based out in California for years. Hooray for Hollywood, remember? Making movies and tossing parties at Ciro’s? She’s a goddamn bag man, Peg.”

She smiled wryly. “Virginia Hill is no kind of man.”

“Oh yes she is. She’s a bag man for mobsters-shuttling between New York and Chicago and Hollywood with money and messages. It’s no secret.”

“So then…she could’ve been looking out for the interests of this Bugsy Siegel person, when she came to me.”

“Could be, if she knows him. And she undoubtedly does, since he’s the guy running the West Coast end of the mob’s wire service. When I say mob, I’m not just talking the local Outfit, either-I mean the East Coast, too. There are men out there who make Guzik look cuddly.”

“You’ve got to find out, Nate.”

“Find out what?”

She shook a small fist. “Whether it was Siegel or Guzik who tried to have my uncle killed!”

“Ultimately it doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?”

“Well, it doesn’t. Your uncle has to sell out to stay alive. If he doesn’t sell, and Siegel doesn’t get him, Guzik eventually will.”

“You’re saying Uncle Jim can’t win in this.”

“Sure he can. He can win big. He’s already a millionaire. He’s a winner when he sells to Guzik for big bucks and retires.”