The Bootlegger's Confession by Allan Levine

Author:Allan Levine
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780888016003
Publisher: Turnstone Press
Published: 2016-10-10T14:55:24+00:00

By six o’clock, the sun had cooled slightly, though the high humidity made it muggier than usual for mid-June. Klein and Rivka paused for a moment as they exited from the hospital’s main entrance when they saw Rae Roter and another woman coming towards them. Klein immediately recognized the red-headed woman he had seen at the funeral, Rae’s friend from Vera. Behind Rae, Klein could see Saul Sugarman parking his Rolls-Royce.

Rae had the appearance of a woman who had been beaten down by the harsh reality of the past week. Her hair was slightly tousled and the lines on her face were accentuated. Beyond that, the lively spark that so endeared her to her many customers was nowhere to be seen.

Rae took one look at Rivka’s worried face and knew immediately that something bad had happened. “What is it? How’s Lou? Is he dead?” Instinctively, her left hand touched her heart and blood pulsated through her body.

“He’s not dead, Rae.”

“Thank God.”

“It is serious, however. They had brought him back from surgery and he was fine. And then, as Sam can also tell you, he began sweating and talking without making sense and then he passed out. The doctor says it’s probably from hitting his head after he was shot. But he is hopeful that with rest Lou will wake up soon. I’m trying to be strong.”

“And you have been,” said Klein, reaching for his sister’s hand. She smiled warmly at him.

Once she fully processed the seriousness of Lou’s situation, Rae’s face turned pale and she teetered slightly. Her friend grabbed onto her.

“Joannie, I’m so glad you’re here with her,” Rivka said, turning to Klein. “Sam, this is Rae’s friend from Vera. Joannie Smythe.”

Joannie helped Rae to a nearby bench and sat her down. “You’ll be fine, dear. Just rest a second.”

“Jack Smythe’s your husband?” Klein asked her.

“That’s right. And you must be Sam Klein. Rae has told me all about you. Even my husband has heard of you. I think your name’s been in the newspaper a few times.”

Klein offered her a half-smile. While he admittedly savoured the local fame that came with his work—the knowing looks he received on the street, the whispers he heard as he walked by, and the occasional complimentary beer and whisky at a Main Street bar—it could also be a liability when he wanted to be unseen.

Klein did find Mrs. Smythe appealing—with that figure it was difficult not to. He wondered if she might have some relevant information about Max’s murder, something she failed to tell the provincial police because she thought it wasn’t important. From Klein’s perspective, it was in such seemingly insignificant details that cases were often solved.

“Might we speak at some point, Mrs. Smythe, about what happened in Vera?”

“Of course, though I don’t know how much help I can be. Both Jack and I spoke to provincial police officers. However, I’ll be staying for a few days at the Royal Alexandra Hotel. We can arrange to meet there if you wish in the next day or two.

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