Ted Allbeury - The Twentieth Day of January

“What’s the payment for?”

“I’m not sure. It’s some sort of deal with a guy named Dempsey. The one who’s alongside Powell.”

“Tell me about Dempsey.”

She smiled. “Real dishy, heir to a few millions, something to do with art in New York. Not married, but not for lack of opportunity, I’d guess. Only got mixed up in politics when Powell first ran for Governor. Nice guy.”

“Is Oakes out of town very often?”

“Not much. He generally takes a family holiday in Miami, and apart from that it’s mainly New York.”

“How often does he go there?”

“Once a week generally.”

“Where does he stay?”

“At the Waldorf Astoria unless I’ve been with him, then we stay at an apartment on 38th. It belongs to some friend of his.”

“Are you fond of him?”

“Not the slightest, or I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

He looked at her intently. “Why the relationship, then?”

She shrugged. “Way back I was impressed that he was interested in me. Now I guess it’s habit and money. I guess I’m like my Daddy, too. I like what he does.”

“Can I give you a lift home?”

“Sure.”

He pulled up on the forecourt of the block of flats where she lived, and her eyes caught the lights from the foyer as she turned to look at him.

“Where are you going to now?”

“To see Siwecki.”

“And afterwards?”

“Back to my place.”

“Where’s that?”

“Just out of town.”

Her face was lifted to his and she said softly, “Come back and see me after Siwecki.”

And instinctively, unbelievably, his mouth was on hers. The soft lips responding, and the soft warmth of her breasts against his arm. He pulled away gently.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be silly. I wanted you to. Say you’ll come back later.”

“I’m married to a gal like your momma, Maria.”

“You want me, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, you’re beautiful.”

She took his hand and slid it up to her breast, and as they kissed again his fingers squeezed the firm mound and she pulled her mouth away from his.

“Have me now. Quickly.”

“That’s crazy, Maria. People would see us, for God’s sake.”

“So come back later and have me. You don’t have to stay, or say you love me. Just do it to me.”

“We’ll see, honey. We’ll see.”

As she opened the car door she leaned back to kiss him.

“I’ll wait,” she whispered.

He turned the car at the hotel entrance and joined the traffic heading out of the city centre, and two cars waited in line behind him. When he turned off the main road towards the river the second car was a long way behind.

There were lights on in Siwecki’s house as he walked up the drive and there was the sound of music inside as he reached up to ring the bell. A woman answered the door. She was black-haired and handsome in a gipsyish sort of way. Her eyes were suspicious, but he guessed that they always were.

“I’d like to talk to Mr. Siwecki.”

She turned away and shouted in Polish, and a man’s voice shouted back. The woman looked back at him.

“He say who are you an’ what you want?”

“My name is Nolan, I’m from Washington.”

She shouted again, and a few seconds later a man appeared at an inner door, a newspaper in his hand.

“Come in,” he called. And he held the door open for Nolan to go through.

There was a three-seater sofa in front of the TV set. And John Wayne was giving one of his closing sermons to a small boy who was holding the hand of a beautiful but unlikely mother. Siwecki leaned over and switched off the set.

He waved the paper at the sofa. “Sit down, mister.”

He waited while Nolan took off his coat.

“The old lady say you from Washington. I don’t believe that.”

Nolan smiled. “I am, Mr. Siwecki, and I need your help.”

The big man snorted his disbelief but said nothing. A legacy from years of hard bargaining.

“I’d like to go back to when you were at Haig Electronics and you had a strike.”

The Pole’s eyes half-closed. “What about it?”

Nolan looked at him calmly. “Who fixed that strike, Mr. Siwecki?”

“You mean who was the arbitrator?”

“No. I know that was Mr. Powell. I mean who arranged the strike?”

“Nobody arranged it, mister. It happened.”

“Why do you live here, Mr. Siwecki?”

Siwecki looked surprised. “Why not? Why does anybody live anywhere?”

“I mean why do you live in this particular house?”

“Because I like. Is nice house for me.”

“You never earned enough money at Haig’s to buy this house.”

Siwecki shifted uneasily then smiled. “I win money on horses. I save it up for when I retire.”

“Why do you get money from Mr. Oakes?”

Siwecki growled. “Who are you, mister?” And he stood up, his face contorted with anger, his big hands closing and opening.

“I’ve told you, Mr. Siwecki. I’m from Washington. Please sit down.”

Siwecki clenched a massive fist and held it aggressively. Nolan didn’t move.

“Mr. Siwecki, it looks to me as if you are likely to be charged with a number of serious offences. I suggest you don’t make things worse for yourself.”

“I told you. I told you they’d bring us to trouble.”

Neither of them had noticed the woman come into the room and her voice surprised them both. Siwecki turned aggressively towards her. He spoke angrily in Polish, and the woman spat back at him, her eyes flashing. She slammed the door as she went. Siwecki turned back to look at Nolan.

“What is it you want, mister?”

“Who paid you to fix the strike?”

Siwecki’s face looked as it must have looked a hundred times as he negotiated with some recalcitrant employer.

“Who are you from, mister?”

“I told you. I’m from Washington.”

“Is many people in Washington. Who are you?”

“My name is Nolan, Mr. Siwecki. I already told you. I am investigating the strike at Haig Electronics. You were the union negotiator.”

“So what is that you investigate. It happened. It is finished years ago.”

“I believe that it is possible that the strike was contrived in order to influence the election of a State Governor. And as you know, Mr. Siwecki, that is a very serious offence. If you were a party to this you could be charged on many counts, including the 1925 Corrupt Practises Act.”

Siwecki looked at Nolan’s face speculatively. Then he said in a whisper, “How you know about this thing?”

“It’s my job, Mr. Siwecki. I’m an investigator.”

“So you ask I give you information to incriminate myself ?”

“If you testified, Mr. Siwecki, you would be protected.”

“And if I not tell you?”

“Then sooner or later you’ll go to jail, Mr. Siwecki, if you are guilty.”

Siwecki looked at him, as if he might read some solution in Nolan’s face.

“Maybe they kill you first, Mr. Nolan.”

“Who might do that?”

The dark eyes looked at him shrewdly. “If you know these things then you know which peoples I mean.”

“You’d better tell me, Mr. Siwecki. If any more crimes were committed in connection with this business you would be an accessory to those crimes, too.”

The old man put his head in his hands, rocking from side to side, moaning softly. Nolan knew that Siwecki was really frightened now.

“I will arrange for you and your family to be protected, Mr. Siwecki.”

The old man looked up at him. “You want a name, or what?”

“Who gave you the orders?”

“Andy Dempsey.”

“And who paid you?”

“He did.”

“How much?”

“Twenty grand for the union, and five for me.”