Easy, she says. Easy on the eyes maybe but nothing about this job has been easy. If I weren't three weeks deep in my landie's pocket, I wouldn't be caught dead trouncing around in this weather. My mark turns the corner and I follow suit. He heads into one of the local dives, one which I know all too well. I crack a smile. Jerry the juice jockey and owner of said joint is a friend of mine. I wait a couple of minutes before walking in. My guy's nursing the tail end of a highball and Jerry's already pouring him another. I catch Jerry's eye and in a moment he knows I'm tailing the human sieve in front of him. We've been acquainted long enough that he knows my trade. Jerry and I used to work together on the force until he caught a lug in his knee.
Jerry had been chasing some Joe who decided to lift a cadillac right out the hands of some poor suit down on Second. Well, Jerry gets the call and happens to be a block away. As luck would have it, this redhot comes screaming down the boulevard and just as he passes Second Street, Jerry t-bones the perp, mounting the Caddie onto his cruiser like a hood ornament. Well this Johnny stumbles out bleeding like a son of a bitch and starts squirting metal all over the street. Jerry just starts walking up to the guy, with no cover, throwing shells right into his chest. Before Joe can taste the asphalt he lands a lucky cap in Jerry's cap and goes down. Jerry threw in the badge before he learnt to walk again and bought up the bar short after. I threw in my badge not too long after, but that's another story.
I sit two stools over from my potential stoolie and Jerry limps his sorry mug over to take my order. I open my trap to speak but Jerry's already pouring me a sidecar. I wait for my guy to hit the john so I can see if Jerry's got any dirt. Apparently this cat's rumored to have some connection to Hairlip Harry. At least that's what dirt-nosed Vic told Jerry. That's not good news. If that's true, then the dolly who turned me onto this case is in quite the jam. Hairlip Hairy's got a face for radio and a rep that's even uglier.
Three days back, this looker ankles up to my office saying she's got a shadow she wants me to shake. She tells me, a couple days ago, she went to pick up her husband's suit at the dry-cleaners. He's got some big meeting coming up. Her guy tries it on, but it fits funny. Says he know it ain't his cause the pockets are too deep. She goes back to return it, but some guy she never seen before stops her, saying that she's got his suit and he's got hers. He'd been waiting outside. She doesn't think much of it, assumes he's just one of these neurotic type guys, apologizes, hands him his suit and he hands her her husband's and they go their separate ways. Only, them ways turn out to be not so separate.
To Be Continued...
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