The Visible Suspect (A Frank Randall Mystery) by Steven Ehrman

Author:Steven Ehrman [Ehrman, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-01-06T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Iwoke up early the next morning and couldn’t get back to sleep. After a cup of coffee and an orange, I decided to go into the office. The hours on the office door read nine to six, but I was never there before ten, unless I had an appointment. I made today an exception. I had barely made it into my seat when the phone rang.

“Hey, Randall. Early bird gets the worm, right?” said a voice I knew.

“Are you watching this office, Jimmy?” I asked.

“Nothing like that, Randall. Just, as part of the neighborhood watch, it’s my responsibility to keep on eye on things. A friend told me you were in pretty early and I wondered what was up.”

“Just doing business, but none of it is your business, Jimmy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, Randall. We ain’t partners. Well, if you ain’t got anything for me, I got business to tend to myself. Take care, buddy. I’ll be around.”

He hung up quickly and I wondered what he was fishing for as I replaced the receiver. I leaned back in my chair and tried to put some of the pieces together. What did Murphy and Scarpeli really want from me? Who had hired Watkins? Who was Tony Peterson? Was he a mobster or an undercover agent? Was Woodward on my side or his own side? My head started to hurt so I opened my bottom desk drawer and pulled out my morning bottle. Two drinks later and my head stopped hurting. One drink after that and I was asleep.

I dreamed I was a boxer in a ring. I was being pummeled on the ropes. I could hear my corner telling me to hang on until the end of the round. The bell rang. And rang. I awoke to the ringing of a phone. I looked at the wall and saw it was after twelve. I picked it up the blower.

“Randall,” I said.

“Hey, buddy, I heard you had a little scrape last night.”

It was the laughing voice of Mitch O’Donnell of The Herald.

“Do you newspaper men know everything?”

“Just everything that’s fit to print. One of my boys was in the Club Control and recognized you. He saw you get into an argument with another guy, and saw that self same guy get bounced. What’s the story? You promised me something, remember?”

“I still can’t talk about, Mitch. You know me, when the lid comes off you get it all. I guarantee you a scoop.”

”All right,” he said sulkily. “Don’t forget to call me.”

“Wait, Mitch, I need some background on a guy.”

“Another favor? You’re getting kind of deep into my pocket.”

“Hey, I could get it on my own, but you’ll save me some time. What do you say?”

“Fine. Sometimes I think I should get a PI license.”

“You’d hate the pay,” I said. “And, Mitch, don’t spread around about who I’m asking about.”

“Of course. I’m the keeper of your secrets. Just one thing. Is it connected to the Peterson case?”

“Maybe, I don’t know. That’s why I need the background.

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