Getting Away With Murder Page 8

  “Okay, Mr. Cooperman. What do you want to know?” Mickey was standing in the doorway of a store next to Diana Sweets. He grabbed my arm as I walked by him and held on to it like I might try running across the street into the one-way traffic.

  “Oh, it’s you, Mickey. You had me worried for a minute.”

  “You were right the first time. I want to talk to you.” He pulled me into Helliwell Lane and hustled me through the brick canyon to where it opened up into a nest of trendy cafés and restaurants. From there it was a short push on my arm until I was forced to his car, parked illegally at the intersection with Brogan Street. “This will do fine,” he said, opening the door and shovelling me into the passenger side. He walked around to his side and got in too.

  “Is this a new conversation or a continuation of the last one, Mickey?”

  “You better stop this horse-shit, Cooperman. I’ve got a short fuse where you’re concerned. Leave the funny lines to the talk shows.”

  “That seems to be the consensus. This morning, anyway.”

  He lit a cigarette with a pocket lighter and breathed the smoke in my face. He thought it might annoy me, but it was the best thing that had happened to me so far today.

  “Okay,” I said, popping a Halls into my mouth, just to keep me sane, “where do we go from here?”

  “You’re the one with the mouth. Ask your questions.” Wise had obviously had a quiet word with Mickey and he was sticking me with his resentment. I guess it’s natural. I tried to think of some questions related to the investigation. It was harder than I thought.

  “Mickey, where did you come into the picture?”

  “I met Mr. Wise through some people he used to deal with in the States, I used to live in Buffalo, but I have relatives on both sides of the river. Part of my schooling was at a half-baked military school on the Chippawa Creek. They used to clobber us if you couldn’t bounce a dime on your new-made beds. A few of the kids and I started moving stuff across the Niagara River in a boat for this guy.”

  “Above the falls?” I asked. He nodded. “That takes guts,” I said. “Lije Swift operates a speak down in St. David’s. He used to run a fast boat during Prohibition.”

  “Thanks for the lesson in local history. Ain’t it colourful? Do you have questions to ask me or what?”

  “So that means you’ve been with him for how long? Five years? Ten?”

  “He bought me from the guy I was talking about eight years back. At first I just mixed in and helped out. There was another man doing what I do now.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “So, when he left, you were slotted in?” He nodded again without elaboration. “There’s somebody, Mickey, who’s trying to kill your boss. It’s my job to find out who. He’s already tried a few times, but he’s only come close. Your boss is a very careful man. He looks under his bed at night and I suspect he lets you open up his mail.”

  “So that’s the score,” he said, running a finger along the edge of his chin. “Why couldn’t we handle it inside? What do we need a peeper for?”

  “Take that up with Wise. I tried asking him and got nowhere. My guess is that he wants a clean sweep of his whole life: business, private, past, present and future. You can’t do a clean job with an old broom.” I regretted the “old broom” as soon as it was out. Mickey winced, but kept his hands where they were.

  “So that’s why you want to know about Cook? The guy before me. He met with an accident while on holiday abroad.”

  “Panama?”

  “Hey! Not bad. Yeah, those crazy hammerheads. But I still say I could have done a better job from inside with what I know about the operation.”

  “I’m not making rules, Mickey, Wise is. I’m just trying to stay alive. This wasn’t my idea, remember?”

  “So, somebody’s got Wise down for the chop.” His finger and thumb were working on the cleft at the point of his chin.

  “Does that surprise you?” I asked. “Wise’s business tends to rub a lot of people the wrong way He must be on a few hit lists.” I was trying out an idea on him to see what his reaction might be.

  Mickey Armstrong thought for a minute, his knuckles now were exploring the back of his right ear. “The cops want him, sure. Feds, provincials, locals. The Americans want him too. But I don’t think they want him dead. He’s no angel, but he doesn’t pull the heads off dogs and cats either. He’s living where they can see him. He’s smart, but he ain’t stealing the widow’s mite yet. They know that. They know he plays by the rules. And his games are all covered by legit operations, like his import-export business.”

  “What about his business partners and competitors?”

  “Everybody likes him. He doesn’t screw around with them. He leaves the heavy jobs to his key men. They take the heat if there’s a problem. They are hard guys and they get paid for solving problems without a fuss. Wise delivers on what he says he’s going to do. He keeps his word and he’s proud of it. There’s no bullshit with Wise. What you see is what you get.”

  “I thought you said they hate his guts?”

  “Mr. Wise is a hard businessman. He cuts no slack. You have to know what you’re doing to do business with him. But, given that, he keeps his word.”

  “What about Hamilton harbour? Are the people there mad at him?”

  “Shit! They’re just trying to cover their asses, that’s all. Wise gets no joy from embarrassing anybody. He doesn’t go for the blackmail lark. The Hamilton heavies have already fallen into place. There’s no sweat in Hamilton. Everybody’s on side.”

  “That brings us to his family. From what I hear, there’s not much love lost. I’ve talked to his first wife.”

  “Paulette? I sometimes think she’s the best of the bunch. Sure, she hates his guts until there’s somebody else coming against him. Then she’s a mother hen and the Texas Rangers rolled into one. I guess you saw that, if you talked to her?”

  “She tries to protect their kid, Hart. From what I hear he could do with fewer people looking out for him.”

  “He’ll never take a fall on his own as long as either one of his parents is alive. The sun shines right out of his ass. Hart is the biggest bastard I ever met, and every time he screws up Wise buys his way out. So Hart goes on messing his bed. Bigger messes. Bigger beds.”

  “He could buy a fleet of sports cars with the money coming to him in Wise’s will.”

  “He could buy a big chunk of the factories in England and Italy where they make them too. So what?”

  “Is Hart our man? He needs the money.”

  Mickey squeezed the butt of his cigarette and popped it out the window. “All I know is that I never let that one get behind me.”

  “Thanks. And the girl?”

  “Julie’s a lot of fun until you cross her. Wise is too cool a dude to forget that. She knows how to use a gun. Did you know that?’ She shoots with the experts.”

  “So far there’s only one shot, and it missed. If she’s such a hot shot with a gun, that tends to put her in the clear.”

  “Maybe she was trying to warn him, or give him a scare?”

  “Could be. But whoever put that shot across his desk knew what he was doing. The slug landed in the hutch in the room where we first talked.” Mickey whistled and made a face. It didn’t mean anything in particular, just that he was processing the information. I expected a “Please wait” sign to flash across his forehead.

  “Cooperman, I can’t figure you out. You said you wanted to ask me a few questions, but you’ve said more than I have. Why are you being so free and easy with the information? How do you know I’m not the bad guy? Maybe I’ve got reasons of my own for puffing Wise away for good.”

  “I’ve thought of that, Mickey. It wouldn’t be the first time that a big hood was removed to make way for new blood. I guess I’m taking a chance on you. Have to start somewhere. You and Paulette seem to be firm ground. But that’s instinct talking, not my head. If my hea
d worked better than the itch I get at the back of my knees, I might be in some safer line of work. Why don’t you do me a favour and have another cigarette?”

  Mickey grinned a genuine grin and reached into his pocket. When the cigarette was going, he gave me a welcome puff in the face. “Tell me, who is there besides Dave Rogers that Wise trusts?”

  “Well, there’s me. Only he just gives me the gist of things. The only time I ever had a real heart-to-heart with him was the time I found out there was somebody on the other side of the door he didn’t want to talk to in a hurry. He tells some tall tales, you know. I sometimes think that he makes up a lot of what he says. Imagine that! Him! Abe Wise!”

  “Give me a for-instance.”

  “Like the time he told me that he once got away with murder. I don’t mean recently in a business way, but a face-to-face sort of thing. He usually boasts that he’s never harmed a fly. That’s why he’s survived in the rackets so long. But he told me he killed and got away clear. Another time he said that he had won a sports-car rally when he was in his twenties. Hell, when he was in his twenties, he couldn’t afford to belong to the clubs that run those rallies. I know that because another time he told me how hard up he was when he was just getting started. Used to make his money with a hammer and chisel working the better-off neighbourhoods for hidden jewellery and cash. I checked out some of those neighbourhoods. Hell, if they looked good to him, he was starting below the bottom. He doesn’t look like a burglar today, does he?”

  “I think you like the guy, Mickey.”

  “He treats me okay. I got no complaints. He’s always behaved decent to Victoria and me. Never made a fuss when she came to live with me in the house after we got married. I think he’s a little soft on the two of us.”

  “You can’t say the same about his feelings for that cop who died this week.”

  “Neustadt? He hated that crooked cop. If Wise was ever moved to kill anybody, it would have been that son of a bitch!”

  “Why him more than the next cop?”

  “Something between the two of them. He never told me. You better ask him next time you come up to the house.”

  “I’ll remember that. One more thing: what’s behind Wise’s office? I couldn’t see in the dark.”

  “Just the garage. It’s a big one. Fits six cars.”

  “Thanks, Mickey. You’ve been a big help.” I couldn’t stop myself shrugging after I said this. “But, you understand, it’s too early to know for sure. If you want to help keep Abe Wise alive, beef up your security at the house. Break up his routines, rearrange his schedules at the last moment.”

  “I know my job, Mr. Cooperman!”

  I caught the last gasp of smoke in my hungry lungs and opened the door. On parting, we each nodded politely, like we were passing in the street and weren’t sure of the other’s name.

  ELEVEN

  The restaurant Wellington Court was literally just around the corner from where I’d talked to Paulette Staples, Wise’s first wife. His second wasn’t waiting for me when I asked for my table inside this converted house a chilly block away from the business centre of town. To my right, as I sat facing the door, were a series of bright watercolours of doorways and window sills in some sunny Mediterranean setting. The bar, not far from the door, looked, at first glance, like it never served anything stronger than a Shirley Temple, but a closer examination showed that it stocked all the standard items, with a few locally brewed beers thrown in.

  When she came in, I could see that she had spotted me right away. She started over to my table, but was sidetracked by a shout from a woman in a blue outfit with enough salad in a bowl in front of her to keep her and her best friends fed for a month. The woman introduced Lily to the woman with her. They laughed together. They laughed again and then Lily continued towards me. Lily Wise was a small woman who looked like she might boast that she still weighed what she had when she was twenty-five. She now looked fifty, was lean and well taken care of. I could picture her doing aerobics in a black leotard, while an off-stage voice counted off the stretches. She wore glasses with thick lenses and pale blue frames. Her hair looked like it had been cropped short by someone who knew what he was doing. There were strands of white mixed in with the prevailing black. I could picture her on committees, working with people, managing things.

  “Mr. Cooperman?” she asked as I started getting up. When I was on my feet she added: “Don’t get up,” and I relaxed back into my chair again. She sloughed a mink coat which she draped over the back of her chair like it was off the rack. Some people are sensitive about wearing furs nowadays; apparently not Lily Wise. She rubbed her glasses with tissue and a waiter brought her a red drink. “They know me here,” she explained. “That’s why they indulge my passion for Campari. Are you having something?”

  “I just got here myself, Mrs. Wise.”

  “You better call me Lily or Lilian. I’m not all that fond of my married name.”

  “That’s what Paulette said.”

  “One of the things we agree about.” I invited Lily to use my given name too, but she looked like she had a bitter almond in her mouth when I told her what it was. “Actually, Paulette and I agree about a lot of things.” I decided to try out the drink she was sipping. When it came, I enjoyed its astringent tartness, like the drink was sucking my cheeks from the inside. We both ordered our lunch: Lily, a quiche with a salad and I, a fancy pasta with vegetables. As long as Wise was picking up the tab, I thought I could experiment. It proved to be pretty good, a better choice than Lily’s. At least I ate mine, she just played with hers as though eating wasn’t something she approved of. While we were eating, she told me about her years of teaching before she met Wise. She grew up in Toronto and had that Toronto certainty about her.

  “Well, Mr. Cooperman. Time to put away the table chat and get down to business. What do you want to know?”

  “How much did Paulette tell you?”

  “Somebody’s trying to kill Abe and you’re trying to stop it.”

  “Good. Do you have any candidates?”

  “There was a time when I had reason enough, but I’ve mellowed with the years. I don’t know who he’s in bed with these days. She might be worth talking to. Intimacy breeds the killer instinct, I find.”

  “As far as I know, he’s not with anybody. I mean, there’s a woman in the house, but she’s married to Mickey Armstrong.”

  “That would be Victoria. I’ve heard a lot about Victoria. From what I’ve heard, she’s not the compliant type. Nor is Mickey. No, I think you can rule her out as Abe’s bedroom companion at least. She may have a reason for killing him, but I doubt if the reason would be sexual. Are there just the three of them living there?”

  “I’m not sure. There are some low types who flex their muscles from time to time.”

  “The boys live in the house next door. Abe owns two of the houses on Dorset Crescent.”

  “I didn’t know that. Thanks. Does your daughter get along with him, Lily?”

  “Julie has to be polled on that question fairly frequently, Mr. Cooperman. Sometimes she thinks that he is her own Teddy bear daddy, and at other times, she could gladly cut his throat.”

  “Nobody’s tried using a knife yet. That’s a mark in her favour, although I hear she’s pretty good with a gun. What does Julie do for a living, Lily?”

  “Nothing,” she said, taking out her irritation at me or the question on a piece of lettuce. “Julie is between marriages just now. Her current boyfriend is a mover and shaker in the fashion industry. Have you heard of Mode Magazine?”

  “I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll ask my father. He was in ladies’ ready-to-wear for over thirty years.”

  “What a joy for you! But, Mr. Cooperman, we are not talking about the same thing. Monsieur Didier Santerre has never spent an afternoon on Spadina Avenue in Toronto, which is where, I’m guessing I admit, your father learned the shmate business. I mean no offence, Mr. Cooperman, it’s just that ther
e are worlds of difference between Spadina Avenue and the Champs Elysées.”

  “I begin to see,” I said. “But why don’t you start calling me Benny? I’ll feel better.”

  “My late brother was a Benny, Mr. Cooperman. It’s not a name I like to use.”

  “Try Ben or Benjamin. Anything you like. I feel peculiar calling you Lily while you’re still calling me mister.”

  “Yes, I know a family where they call the cleaning woman Mrs. Tarnapol and she calls them Harry and Bernice. What odd times we live in, Mr. C.”

  “That’s a little better. We were talking of high fashion.”

  “You know, of course, that Julie’s best friend is Mona McGuire? You’ve heard of her at least?”

  “That’s not a name I know.”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself. Mona McGuire just happens to be the world’s most famous, and highest-paid, model. She’s a world-famous celebrity. She also happens to come from right here in Grantham.”

  “Good for her and bully for us. What does this have to do with Julie’s relationship with her old man?”

  “Julie would never introduce her friends to Abe! She’s deeply ashamed of her father, Mr. C. She doesn’t use the name Wise—”

  “But I understand she spends his money.”

  “No need to be offensive! She has a right to use Abe’s wealth. She is his only daughter.”

  “We keep coming back to that. Does she spend any time here in town or is she off on the Champs Elysées?”

  “She has an apartment on the Île St. Louis, but she still has a house here in Grantham. As a matter of fact, Mona and Didier spend time here as well. Morna’s family lives here and Morna’s still a relatively simple, unspoiled girl.”

  “Not the sort who would try to shorten Abe Wise’s days, I’ll bet. What does this Santerre guy have to do with the magazine and the model?”

  “I can’t imagine anyone so insulated, Mr. C. You really are a phenomenon.”

  “Yeah, I hear that all the time. A magazine costs a pretty penny to put on the stands. Is it in good shape?”