~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter 5
It was still early, only a quarter to 1:00, so I
decided to check
something out over at one of Mike's favorite hangouts.
The night Nancy came into my office, she had mentioned
that one of
Mike's favorite places was a pool hall over on the
other side of town.
It was in a rather seedy section of downtown Chicago,
and considering
the amount of money Mike was worth, I was quite
surprised that he would
have chosen this place as a favorite.
I signaled, and made a right turn onto the expressway,
easing into the
afternoon traffic. Minutes later, I pulled up across
the street from
Hank's Pool Hall and sat for a moment, just looking
around. It was an
old neighborhood, and the buildings that lined the
streets were in great
need of repair. The sidewalks were slick from the rain
and despite the
sky threatening another downpour, there was a craps
game going on in
front of the steps of the building.
Fully aware of the various situations I'd be faced
with in this
wonderful profession I had chosen, I'm always
prepared. I opened my
glove compartment and took out a can of mace that I
kept there and
placed it in my pocket, then checked my gun and slid
it in my shoulder
holster before stepping out of the car and locking it
behind me.
I walked briskly across the street towards the pool
hall amidst a
raucous flurry of whistles and cat-calls coming from
the scruffy-looking
rabble occupying the sidewalk in front of the
building. As I got closer,
I could hear them murmuring about various attributes
of my anatomy, some
of which I will be forever grateful that I didn't know
the meaning of.
As I approached the door, a lean man with dirty blond
hair made eye
contact with me, then braced his booted foot against
the opposite side
of the jamb, effectively blocking my entrance.
"Hey baby," he said, looking me up and down like I was
wearing a sign
that said, "Pet me, I'm a whore." He had long dirty
blond hair that did
nothing to hide his 10 o'clock shadow, and breath that
reeked of alcohol
and God knows what else. All in all, he had the
appearance and general
aroma of a landfill, and I ran a hand inside my
pocket, grasping the can
of mace.
"What can I do for you, angel-face?" he asked, looking
around at his
buddies for some support.
I had been on the police force for enough years to
know potential
trouble, and I had enough dealings with gang members
and drug dealers to
be well familiar with guys of this type. I couldn't
let them even think
that I was afraid. That was just the response he was
hoping for. I
checked my watch and blew out an exasperated breath.
"Well, you can start by removing your foot." I said,
returning his
glare.
"Now why would I want to do that?" he asked, obviously
having a little
fun with me as he turned to again check the response
of his buddies. We
were, undisputedly, the center of attention.
I flashed my badge. "Well, I figure it like
this. If you want it still attached to your leg,
then I suggest you move it."
There's something about the way I can look at a person
that, I've been
told, can be very intimidating, and I don't usually
have a problem in
the lesser arts of persuasion. Whether this is a curse
or a blessing, I
don't know. I suppose it's one of many traits I
had learned in order to survive.
I kept my eye on lover-boy with the big foot in front
of me, all the
while keeping check on the others with my peripheral
vision. I could
feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I
readied to defend
myself. Thank God I worked out from time to time.
Fortunately, my icy stare worked, and the creep
lowered his leg and
stepped aside, holding up his hands in surrender.
"Hey, be cool...be cool." He laughed, "Chill out,
Mama."
"I'm not your Mama," I muttered, and walked past
without even turning
around, leaving them to snicker and taunt one another.
Inside, the air was smoky and the crowd sparse. Music
was playing
softly, and the sound of billiard balls smashing
against each other
echoed loudly throughout the building.
There were several pool tables in the center of the
floor, and a jukebox
and a couple of worn-out pinball machines populated
the rear wall.
Along the right-hand wall, there were a few tables and
chairs, and on
the other side of the room was the bar itself.
The men around the pool tables paused from their game
to stare at me.
Curious looks etched their faces, as if wondering what
business I had
there. I did a quick scan of the place, not really
knowing where to
begin, and decided to start with the tall, lean
gentleman standing at
the end of the bar. Whistles followed me as I made my
quickly towards
him.
These guys really needed to get a life! Or a girl, I
thought wryly,
although from the looks of most of them, that wasn't
even a remote
possibility.
I stood in front of the bar and cleared my throat, and
the man glanced
up, doing a double-take when he saw me. He stopped
whatever it was he
was doing and grinned. I could see that he had a few
teeth missing on
the side, one missing in front.
"What can I do for ya, doll-face?" he asked with a
lopsided smile,
giving me the once-over. His eyes reminded me of two
black beads rolling
around in one of those handheld games that used to
come as a Cracker
Jack prize.
"Did you know a Michael Calibre?" I started off
quickly. I wanted to
get right to the point and get the hell out of there.
"I understand this
is where he use to hang out."
He considered for a moment, scratching his chin before
answering. "Yeah,
I knew Mike very well. Who are you?" he asked.
I flashed my badge. "Brigatti. Private investigator.
Did you see him
anytime the day before he died?" I asked, placing the
badge back into my
pocket and pulling out my note pad.
" I saw him the night before. He looked really bummed
out, about what, I
don't know. I think he was having some money trouble
and had been
arguing with his sister about something."
Just then, a tall black guy approached the bar and
stood beside me. He was wearing a pair of mirrored
sunglasses, indoors as we were. Ignored him keeping
my attention on the bartender. "You mean girlfriend?" I asked.
"No...his sister." The bartender scratched his head
reflectively. "She told
him that she was going to remove him from the will or
somethin'. I...I
don't know. I'm gonna miss that boy."
Surprised that Nancy hadn't mention that to me, I
paused in my
questioning to jot it down, letting him have his
second of mourning
before I continued.
"Did he say why she wanted to remove him from the
will?" I asked,
glancing up from my notes.
"No," he said, again scratching his head. Then, as if
he suddenly
remembered something, his head snapped up.
"Wait a minute. Mike did say something about his
sister threatening to
disinherit him if he ever got hitched. She didn't want
him to marry,
I think that was one of the reasons he was so bummed
out."
"Really...." I said, pausing in my writing to stare at
him. Again, I was
surprised by this information and the fact that Nancy
hadn't mentioned
it to me.
So far, the guy with the mirrored shades hadn't moved
and I wondered if
he had fallen asleep standing in the spot beside me.
Behind those shades
it was hard to tell.
Irritated, I turned to look at him. "I'll be with you
in a minute." I said sarcastically rolling my eyes heavenward. I blew out an
iritated breath then turned back to focus my attention
on the bartender. I searched through my notes, and having
exhausted all of my questions, decided I was through, here.
"Well," I said snapping my note pad closed. "I
suppose that's all for
now. You will stick around in case I need to ask you
some more
questions, won't you?" I asked.
"Anything for you, doll-face." He grinned. "Want my
beeper number?"
"Ahh--that won't be necessary." I wrinkled my nose at him. "Thank you
um---," I paused. I hadn't gotten his name.
"All Night Charlie," he grinned even broader. If that was at all possible.
"But my women call me all night," he added, with a wiggle of his straggly
eyebrows.
I was wrong in my first assessment of him. There were
about four missing
teeth, including the one in front.
"Nice." I murmured sliding my note pad back into my
pocket, again,
touching the can of mace before looking back up at
him.
"Well, thank you---ahh....Charlie." I smiled,
determined to leave out
the part about the all night. This guy was just too
much!
I turned on my heel to leave, but stopped abruptly to
cock a cold eye
at the guy glued to the spot next to me. I opened my
mouth to make a
comment, but decided against it. He wasn't worth the
time. Closing my
mouth, I shuddered, then walked out, leaving a trail
of whistles behind
me.
Chapter 5
It was still early, only a quarter to 1:00, so I
decided to check
something out over at one of Mike's favorite hangouts.
The night Nancy came into my office, she had mentioned
that one of
Mike's favorite places was a pool hall over on the
other side of town.
It was in a rather seedy section of downtown Chicago,
and considering
the amount of money Mike was worth, I was quite
surprised that he would
have chosen this place as a favorite.
I signaled, and made a right turn onto the expressway,
easing into the
afternoon traffic. Minutes later, I pulled up across
the street from
Hank's Pool Hall and sat for a moment, just looking
around. It was an
old neighborhood, and the buildings that lined the
streets were in great
need of repair. The sidewalks were slick from the rain
and despite the
sky threatening another downpour, there was a craps
game going on in
front of the steps of the building.
Fully aware of the various situations I'd be faced
with in this
wonderful profession I had chosen, I'm always
prepared. I opened my
glove compartment and took out a can of mace that I
kept there and
placed it in my pocket, then checked my gun and slid
it in my shoulder
holster before stepping out of the car and locking it
behind me.
I walked briskly across the street towards the pool
hall amidst a
raucous flurry of whistles and cat-calls coming from
the scruffy-looking
rabble occupying the sidewalk in front of the
building. As I got closer,
I could hear them murmuring about various attributes
of my anatomy, some
of which I will be forever grateful that I didn't know
the meaning of.
As I approached the door, a lean man with dirty blond
hair made eye
contact with me, then braced his booted foot against
the opposite side
of the jamb, effectively blocking my entrance.
"Hey baby," he said, looking me up and down like I was
wearing a sign
that said, "Pet me, I'm a whore." He had long dirty
blond hair that did
nothing to hide his 10 o'clock shadow, and breath that
reeked of alcohol
and God knows what else. All in all, he had the
appearance and general
aroma of a landfill, and I ran a hand inside my
pocket, grasping the can
of mace.
"What can I do for you, angel-face?" he asked, looking
around at his
buddies for some support.
I had been on the police force for enough years to
know potential
trouble, and I had enough dealings with gang members
and drug dealers to
be well familiar with guys of this type. I couldn't
let them even think
that I was afraid. That was just the response he was
hoping for. I
checked my watch and blew out an exasperated breath.
"Well, you can start by removing your foot." I said,
returning his
glare.
"Now why would I want to do that?" he asked, obviously
having a little
fun with me as he turned to again check the response
of his buddies. We
were, undisputedly, the center of attention.
I flashed my badge. "Well, I figure it like
this. If you want it still attached to your leg,
then I suggest you move it."
There's something about the way I can look at a person
that, I've been
told, can be very intimidating, and I don't usually
have a problem in
the lesser arts of persuasion. Whether this is a curse
or a blessing, I
don't know. I suppose it's one of many traits I
had learned in order to survive.
I kept my eye on lover-boy with the big foot in front
of me, all the
while keeping check on the others with my peripheral
vision. I could
feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I
readied to defend
myself. Thank God I worked out from time to time.
Fortunately, my icy stare worked, and the creep
lowered his leg and
stepped aside, holding up his hands in surrender.
"Hey, be cool...be cool." He laughed, "Chill out,
Mama."
"I'm not your Mama," I muttered, and walked past
without even turning
around, leaving them to snicker and taunt one another.
Inside, the air was smoky and the crowd sparse. Music
was playing
softly, and the sound of billiard balls smashing
against each other
echoed loudly throughout the building.
There were several pool tables in the center of the
floor, and a jukebox
and a couple of worn-out pinball machines populated
the rear wall.
Along the right-hand wall, there were a few tables and
chairs, and on
the other side of the room was the bar itself.
The men around the pool tables paused from their game
to stare at me.
Curious looks etched their faces, as if wondering what
business I had
there. I did a quick scan of the place, not really
knowing where to
begin, and decided to start with the tall, lean
gentleman standing at
the end of the bar. Whistles followed me as I made my
quickly towards
him.
These guys really needed to get a life! Or a girl, I
thought wryly,
although from the looks of most of them, that wasn't
even a remote
possibility.
I stood in front of the bar and cleared my throat, and
the man glanced
up, doing a double-take when he saw me. He stopped
whatever it was he
was doing and grinned. I could see that he had a few
teeth missing on
the side, one missing in front.
"What can I do for ya, doll-face?" he asked with a
lopsided smile,
giving me the once-over. His eyes reminded me of two
black beads rolling
around in one of those handheld games that used to
come as a Cracker
Jack prize.
"Did you know a Michael Calibre?" I started off
quickly. I wanted to
get right to the point and get the hell out of there.
"I understand this
is where he use to hang out."
He considered for a moment, scratching his chin before
answering. "Yeah,
I knew Mike very well. Who are you?" he asked.
I flashed my badge. "Brigatti. Private investigator.
Did you see him
anytime the day before he died?" I asked, placing the
badge back into my
pocket and pulling out my note pad.
" I saw him the night before. He looked really bummed
out, about what, I
don't know. I think he was having some money trouble
and had been
arguing with his sister about something."
Just then, a tall black guy approached the bar and
stood beside me. He was wearing a pair of mirrored
sunglasses, indoors as we were. Ignored him keeping
my attention on the bartender. "You mean girlfriend?" I asked.
"No...his sister." The bartender scratched his head
reflectively. "She told
him that she was going to remove him from the will or
somethin'. I...I
don't know. I'm gonna miss that boy."
Surprised that Nancy hadn't mention that to me, I
paused in my
questioning to jot it down, letting him have his
second of mourning
before I continued.
"Did he say why she wanted to remove him from the
will?" I asked,
glancing up from my notes.
"No," he said, again scratching his head. Then, as if
he suddenly
remembered something, his head snapped up.
"Wait a minute. Mike did say something about his
sister threatening to
disinherit him if he ever got hitched. She didn't want
him to marry,
I think that was one of the reasons he was so bummed
out."
"Really...." I said, pausing in my writing to stare at
him. Again, I was
surprised by this information and the fact that Nancy
hadn't mentioned
it to me.
So far, the guy with the mirrored shades hadn't moved
and I wondered if
he had fallen asleep standing in the spot beside me.
Behind those shades
it was hard to tell.
Irritated, I turned to look at him. "I'll be with you
in a minute." I said sarcastically rolling my eyes heavenward. I blew out an
iritated breath then turned back to focus my attention
on the bartender. I searched through my notes, and having
exhausted all of my questions, decided I was through, here.
"Well," I said snapping my note pad closed. "I
suppose that's all for
now. You will stick around in case I need to ask you
some more
questions, won't you?" I asked.
"Anything for you, doll-face." He grinned. "Want my
beeper number?"
"Ahh--that won't be necessary." I wrinkled my nose at him. "Thank you
um---," I paused. I hadn't gotten his name.
"All Night Charlie," he grinned even broader. If that was at all possible.
"But my women call me all night," he added, with a wiggle of his straggly
eyebrows.
I was wrong in my first assessment of him. There were
about four missing
teeth, including the one in front.
"Nice." I murmured sliding my note pad back into my
pocket, again,
touching the can of mace before looking back up at
him.
"Well, thank you---ahh....Charlie." I smiled,
determined to leave out
the part about the all night. This guy was just too
much!
I turned on my heel to leave, but stopped abruptly to
cock a cold eye
at the guy glued to the spot next to me. I opened my
mouth to make a
comment, but decided against it. He wasn't worth the
time. Closing my
mouth, I shuddered, then walked out, leaving a trail
of whistles behind
me.