Dark End Of The Street by Andrew Madigan

Author:Andrew Madigan [Madigan, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gumshoe - A Next Chapter Imprint
Published: 2020-06-15T22:00:00+00:00

Outside, the sidewalks are busy and the sun’s working overtime. Horvath shields his eyes with a meaty right hand, but the bright lights don’t seem to bother Fang.

“Feeling okay now?”

“Better, yeah, but I’m a little tired.”

“Sleep it off.”

He nods. “What was in that medicine, anyway?”

“It’s just medicine. Don’t ask so many questions.”

He wants to ask her about the apartment building on Cantrell. When he brought it up earlier, she seemed to know something.

As if reading his mind, or maybe the worry lines on his face, she broaches the subject herself. “Ever heard of DiLorenzo?”

“No.”

She drops the potatoes, reaches into her shirt pocket for a cigarette, and lights up. “Fiorello DiLorenzo. Owns a big chunk of the north side. Apartments, mostly. Slums. Bad man. He’s got office buildings, too. Laundromats, construction company, taxies, dry cleaners, clip joints, massage parlors.”

“Sounds like a class act.”

“Pillar of society. Has lunch with the mayor twice a week.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s three times.”

“Sounds about right.”

“One of the richest men in town. Police are in his back pocket. City Hall, Chamber of Commerce, everyone.”

“Lemme guess, DiLorenzo gets all the city contracts?”

“Most of them.” Fang yawns, stretches out her arms. “He owns the racetrack, too. That’s where most of his money comes from these days.”

“Where’s that?”

“Outside of town. 15-20 miles. Most days, that’s where he hangs out.”

“He’s with the syndicate?”

“Not exactly. He’s got his own operation, but they have an understanding. You know who Jaworski is?”

“Name rings a bell.”

“Gilroy runs the syndicate, and Jaworski’s his right-hand man.”

“They have any legitimate businesses?”

“Few bars and nightclubs, but mostly it’s girls, dope, graft, extortion, murder, armed robbery, gambling…”

“The seven cardinal virtues.”

Fang tips her ash, looks around.

“So what’s all this got to do with that empty rat’s nest on Cantrell?”

“DiLorenzo tried to torch it last year, for the insurance money, but somebody stopped him.”

“How?”

“He sent over a couple guys with gas cans and a book of matches, but when they got there some people were waiting for them.”

“Gilroy’s men?” he asks.

“Probably. No one knows for sure.”

“So what happened?”

“They started a fire in the storeroom. Paint, turpentine, old rags. To make it look like an accident.”

“Sure.”

“And the fire started alright, but then these other guys came out of the basement and gunned them down.”

“Anyone see who it was?”

“It was late, but there were people around. Bums, dope fiends, streetwalkers. It’s not Fifth Avenue, you know? People stay up late around there.”

“But nobody finked, right? Nobody was willing to name names?”

“No. They might have been threatened, or paid off, or maybe no one saw their faces. But people heard gunshots, saw a few men run out and jump into a car.”

“Is that it?”

“Fire department put out the fire. Insurance company wouldn’t pay up. Few weeks later, two of Jaworski’s men were killed.”

“That’s some understanding they’ve got.”

“Tell me about it.”

“How’d they die?”

“Strangled, then tossed in the river.” Fang pauses. “But you didn’t hear any of this from me.”

“Course not.”

“Any more questions?”

“Yeah, where’s the subway?”

She picks up the sack of potatoes. “Follow me. It’s real close.

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