“Always the kidder, aren’t ya, Jake? Na. Ain’t you heard? I’m Tommy’s partner now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, since last month. He needed someone to run the casino. Now, Jake, I know you’re here to settle a score, but you gotta be careful. Tommy’s no pushover.”
“Shouldn’t you be worried about your partner?” I asked, lighting a cigarette.
“Look, Jake, we been pals since we were kids. I don’t want to see you get hurt. And to tell you the truth, Tommy ain’t the best partner a fella ever had.”
“So you’re telling me you’ll back my play?”
“If I have to.” He pulled back his tail coat and I saw his gun.
Before we could continue, Tommy came walking through the crowd, glad-handing patrons left and right. Then he spotted me.
“Hello, Jake,” he said, but didn’t offer his hand. “You here to see me?”
“We have some business to finish,” I replied, looking into his broad black Irish face.
“I suppose we do. But it will have to wait. I have a club to run and the show’s going to start. C’mon—you can sit at my table and I’ll buy you dinner. I have a torch singer here with a voice like an angel and a face and figure like a Greek goddess.”
Tommy turned to Mummy. “Mummy, before the show starts, check the casino receipts.”
“What about him?” Mummy asked, pointing at me.
“There won’t be any trouble, will there, Jake?”
“Our business waited this long. For a free meal and show, it can wait a little longer.”
Mummy nodded and I followed Tommy to his table. Tommy ordered steak dinners for each of us. This wasn’t the place for conversation, too many people watching. Small talk. He told me I looked thin, I told him he had put on weight.
Then the lights dimmed and the orchestra struck up “How Deep Is the Ocean.” A spotlight came on and there stood Claire, clad in a long red evening gown. I could see every curve of her body; the gown had no buttons. She must have shimmied into it. Claire leaned into the microphone and began to sing in a dark, throaty voice.
The crowd that had come for dinner and a show certainly got their money’s worth. Every guy in the place thought she was singing to him, especially when she let go with “The Man I Love.”
When she finished, the applause shook the place and Tommy was beaming. Had the big goon actually fallen for her?
“Want to meet her?” Tommy asked.
“We have to talk.”
“Yeah, we do.” He stood up and walked toward his office; I followed. Claire and Mummy sat at a table next to the office. She gave me a barely perceptible nod; Mummy gave a tight-lipped smile.
“Mummy,” Tommy said, “stay close, I might need you.”
Mummy nodded and winked.
Tommy’s office was paneled in dark mahogany; the wood was dense and made the room practically soundproof, which suited my purposes just fine.
Tommy walked to a small bar in the corner and took down two glasses. He lifted a bottle. “Single malt, twenty years old.”
“Why not?” I said, and he poured.
He handed me the glass and said, “To old times.”
“Some need to be forgotten,” I said, and sat down in a big leather armchair.
“But not all of them?” Tommy asked.
“Not all of them.”
“Well, if it’s going to be business, maybe I should call Mummy in.”
“You know something? You can still be a dumb schmuck when it comes to women.”
“What the hell does that mean?” Tommy said, putting his drink down.
“Claire. She came to see me today, told me you were holding her back, wouldn’t let her go to New York for a radio contract.”
“What?”
“Later I went to the Commodore. She told me you threatened to kill her if she ever tried to leave. After that we screwed like minks.”
Tommy looked angry. Double-crossed by a dame.
“Why don’t you call Claire in here,” I suggested, taking out the Luger and setting it in my lap. “Mummy too.”
“That’s how it’s going to play, huh?” Tommy asked.
I nodded and he opened the door and beckoned them in.
They entered and sat down side by side on a small sofa facing me.
Tommy glared at Claire. “So you want to go to New York, huh?”
“What are you talking about, Tommy?” Her voice was so sweet; you’d swear bees were nesting in her mouth.
“Jake told me that you said I’d kill you if you ever left me. That’s how you see our relationship?”
“No, Tommy.” She began to cry. “Kane came to my apartment, forced his way in, and raped me. He told me it was to get even with you.”
I started laughing. “You tell a great story, baby. But I like the one you told this afternoon better.”
“What story?” Tommy asked.
“That the only way out of the relationship was for you to be dead. And since she figured I was going to kill you anyhow, I’d do her a favor.”
“That’s a lie, Tommy,” Claire said.
“Oh, there’s more. She was afraid I might have lost my edge in stir, so she told me she had arranged backup for me, and guess who that is?” I said, pointing to Mummy.
Mummy started to his feet.
“Sit down, Mummy, I’m not through.” I showed him my Luger. “Here’s how I figure it,” I said to Tommy. “Claire wants to be more than just a chanteuse. She wants power. By seducing you she could get it. But you kept it strictly business. So Mummy was her fallback. He was for it. Why not? He’d get a swell dame and your operation. But he didn’t want to go up against you alone. When he heard I was getting out, he assumed I would kill you and then he and Beautiful would take care of me.”
“That’s a great story, Jake,” Mummy said. “But it’s bullshit. I’d have no reason to kill you.”
“Really? Remember that Prohibition cop I killed? He was supposed to be on the take, but someone got to him and paid him more than Tommy and I did. When I was in the pen, I found out who the double-crosser was. It was you, Mummy. You let your mouth run free with one of Capone’s hitters. You remember Santino? When he was sent to Leavenworth, I saved him from a shiv. He told me what you had done. You wanted that booze, you greedy bastard, it was worth a hundred grand. I also know it was you that tipped the law that I was coming back from Cuba. You hoped they’d kill me.”
“How do you know Santino wasn’t lying?” Mummy asked belligerently. “How do you know it wasn’t Macintyre that set you up?”
“Because when we were jumped, it was Tommy that took the bullet meant for me and saved my life. He got patched up by an abortion doc in Minneapolis. Then we both lit out for Cuba, so Tommy could recover. I came back to find the rat that double-crossed us.”
Mummy went for his .38. I raised the Luger and put a 9mm Parabellum slug right through his heart. His pistol fell from his hand.
Claire screamed, “You son of a bitch!” She dug a little automatic out of her purse and aimed it in my direction. Tommy grabbed up Mummy’s .38 and shot her in the head. Her gun went off as she fell and the bullet put a hole in Mummy’s shoulder.
In December, I was behind the wheel of the Duesenberg, driving Tommy to see a surgeon at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester. We shot the breeze about the events.
“Didn’t go as planned,” Tommy said.
“It went better,” I said. Originally, Tommy brought Mummy back from Chicago by offering him a partnership in the casino. We were just waiting for me to be sprung, so I could be in on the kill. We made everyone think I was gunning for Tommy, to throw the rat off base. Mummy should have known, if you harm us, you pay.
“Claire was the joker in the deck,” Tommy said. “But it worked to our advantage.”
We told Frank O’Hara that Mummy had wanted to take over Tommy’s operation and tried to kill him. Claire attempted to stop him. But Mummy shot her with his .38. As Claire fell, she shot him in the shoulder. Before he could get off another shot, I killed him.