Max Collins - Chicago Lightning

Mrs. Swan G. Swanson (no joke) was typical. She was the proprietor of a little gift shop across from the clothing store on West Division Street. This was a busy shopping area, the treetops of fashionable, sleepy Oak Park visible above the bustle of commerce and traffic on this late afternoon.

She was about sixty-five, five foot five in heels and maybe one-hundred-and-sixty pounds that still had some shape to them, well-served by a cotton dress with white polka dots on dark blue; with that pretty face highlighted by nice light blue eyes behind round wire-framed glasses, she was who you hoped your wife would turn out to be at that age.

“Detective Heller,” she said, in a whispery soprano, “it was one of the most vicious things I ever saw.”

“I know you’ve been over this several times, but I’m new on the case. Don’t spare the details.”

She nodded. “Two men came running out of the store. The first man was dark and he was holding onto his hand, which was bleeding, dripping all over the sidewalk. The other man was struggling with Mr. Hoeh, who ran after them. Mr. Hoeh was very brave, fighting hand to hand with a man holding a gun.”

Very brave or very dumb.

“Then this wildcat of a woman, a blonde, came out and was swinging this blackjack around and was hitting Mr. Hoeh with it. Mr. Hoeh sort of stumbled and stopped fighting and the woman stepped to one side and the man with the gun shot Mr. Hoeh-twice! And then when Mr. Hoeh was on the sidewalk, bleeding, dying, that vixen kicked him! Kicked him right in the face!”

“That is vicious. Tell me, when did you notice the blackjack?”

“Oh, uh…well, right away, I guess. When she started swinging it.”

“I was just wondering if the detectives you spoke to earlier had mentioned that the Tigress sometimes used a blackjack. Did you notice the blackjack at the time? Or when they mentioned this to you, did you remember you’d seen it?”

She frowned. “Actually…I guess I just thought she was pounding on him. But on reflection, I was sure, pretty sure, she had a blackjack.”

“What does a blackjack look like, anyway?”

The light blue eyes froze behind the lenses. “Uh…well, it’s black, obviously. It’s a sort of wrench, isn’t it?”

When I grew tired of talking to thesewitnesses who’d been played like a kazoo by the Detective Bureau, I had a Coke and a grilled cheese at the drug store on the corner of Austin Boulevard and Division. Then I called the First District Station to see if that dedicated little public servant Captain Stege was still in his office.

He was, and I asked, “Was there anything in the reports about Hoeh having any facial injuries?”

“Just minor stuff, from the scuffle with Dale, I understand.”

“Then nobody kicked him in the face?”

He grunted a laugh. “I saw that in the papers, some of the witnesses saying that. But, no, Heller, nobody kicked the old man. The two bullets were enough.”

“Usually are. I read something about a cache of weapons being collected at the apartment where the dicks caught up with Dale and Eleanor. Was there a blackjack among the stuff?”

“No. Pretty good arsenal, though-four revolvers and a shotgun.”

Dale had said he was no saint.

I went back to the office, not because I was as dedicated as Captain Stege, but owing to the fact that I lived there, with the Murphy bed to prove it. There was a Depression going on, as you may have heard, and I had an arrangement with the building’s owner to keep an eye on things at night in exchange for rent.

That evening I needed to get over to the Century of Progress, where I was doing some security work-without the World’s Fair, my summer would have been a bust-and I was just getting ready to go when a knock rattled the pebbled glass of my door.

“Come in,” I said, wondering what I’d done to deserve two clients in one day, but it wasn’t that at all.

For a moment I thought Leo Minneci had escaped and come around, because this was a dark young man who resembled Minneci strongly. On a closer inspection, he was smaller and younger than Leo, without the flattened nose, and better dressed-white short-sleeved shirt, red tie, white summer slacks and white bluchers-also a boater-style straw hat, which was in his right hand.

“I’m Tony Minneci,” he said. “Leo’s brother. I have something for you, Mr. Heller.”

I gestured to the client’s chair and he came over and filled it.

“This may seem a little strange,” he said. “I’m not here because of my brother.”

“Oh?”

“I’m kind of mad at Leo. He got me in trouble.”

Then I remembered-the car used in the robbery, whose license number had been reported by three or four witnesses, turned out to belong to Tony here, a University of Illinois student working as a grocery clerk for a summer job.

“Leo asked to borrow my car that day,” his young doppelganger said, “but I said no. Then he took it, anyway.”

“Did you know Leo was doing stick-ups? Is that why you didn’t want him using your wheels?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know anything about that. It’s just my car, is all. Let him get his own car.” He got into his pocket and fished out some bills-twenties. He put five of them on my desk. That was a lot of cabbage for a college-kid grocery clerk to haul around. A well-dressed college-kid grocery clerk.

He smiled shyly. “That’s to cover what you’re doing for Eleanor.”

“You’re Leo’s brother, but you’re running an errand for Eleanor? Why?”

“She’s a nice girl. She’s innocent in all this. We were friendly.”

“You and Eleanor?”

“No, all of us, Eleanor and George and Leo.”

“This is the same Leo? Let-him-get-his-own-car Leo?”

He shrugged. “I get along fine with my brother. We don’t agree on everything under the sun, but-”

“What don’t you agree with? Him sticking up stores?”

“Look, Mr. Heller, my brother may not be perfect, but he does his best to keep that wife of his happy. If he did do something he shouldn’t have, you can blame her for it.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a nag, that’s why. You should go talk to her. See for yourself. If you ask me…nothing.”

“Make your point, Tony.”

“They got two kids now, Mr. Heller, but she was a wild one, Tina. She got my brother in all kinds of scrapes, and then she trapped him, far as I’m concerned.”

“How?”

“Back when he was boxing and making good money, she got pregnant on purpose to bag him. If I was on this case? I’d see what her alibi was, the day of that robbery, and all those other robberies.”

“Does your sister-in-law know you feel this way?”

“No.” He shrugged again. “I’m nice to her. Leo asked me to keep an eye on her, and the two kiddies, make sure they’re okay. I’m on my way there now, as it happens.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, she’s broke. I’m gonna give her some grocery money.”

“You are a nice guy, Tony. Why don’t we go over there together?”

He frowned. “Why would you want to do that?”

“She’s on my list to talk to. Maybe you could pave the way for me, a little.”

“Well…okay. I don’t see why not. You’ll see, I don’t let it show, how I feel-my only interest is in those two little kids. My nephews.”

“Sure. You have a car?”

“Yeah.” He got to his feet and put the straw hat on. “You want a ride, Mr. Heller?”

“No, I have the address. I’ll meet you over there.”

The Minneci apartment was four handsomely furnished rooms over a florist shop on the corner of Madison and Homan. These were fairly nice digs, suggesting hubby Leo had been doing all right for his little family before the cops took him away.