Five Points (10 page)

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Authors: J. R. Roberts

BOOK: Five Points
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Two kids had been sent to Denver by their mother to pick up some merchandise, and a woman got killed because of it. But Clint didn't believe there was any way Ben or Bethany could have killed Libby Wellington. That meant that Ma had sent somebody else with them. But who?
“Supper included in whatever job you got for me?”
Clint looked up and saw Delvecchio standing over him.
“You like beef stew?” Clint asked.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Delvecchio had a seat and Angie brought over two bowls of beef stew.
“Thank you, darlin',” Delvecchio said.
She gave him an extra long look at her breasts and then flounced off.
“How'd you find me?” Clint asked.
“Clerk over at the hotel told me to check over here,” Delvecchio said. “He says they have somethin' over here you like. Is it her?”
“And the beef stew.”
“It's good to see you, Clint.”
“You, too, Delvecchio.”
“What brings you to Manhattan? And what can I do for you?”
“I'll answer that while we eat,” Clint said, “but I've got to tell you something. I'm also working with Captain Thomas Byrnes.”
“Byrnes,” Delvecchio said. “He hates me.”
“I gathered that.”
“You told him you sent me a message?”
“Yep.”>
“That was probably a bad move,” the Brooklyn detective said, “but how could you have known that?”
“I couldn't,” Clint said, “so if you're going to help me on this, you're going to have to stay away from him.”
“I can do that,” Delvecchio said. “I am getting paid, right?”
“Right.”
“Then I can do that.”
“Okay, then here's the story . . .”
“I know Ma Mandelbaum,” Delvecchio said when Clint finished. “She is big enough to handle a haul like this. And the fact that Bethany came to you pretty much makes it a cinch that she's the fence.”
“Means I probably won't have to go and see the other two with Byrnes tomorrow.”
“Murphy and Rothstein? I know them, too. They could handle it, but they wouldn't have sent a couple of kids, along with whoever actually killed the woman.”
“If you know the woman's operation,” Clint asked, “do you have any ideas about that?”
“Sure,” Delvecchio said. “Her current bed warmer is a guy named Willie O'Donnell. He'd kill a rich widow just as soon as look at her.”
“Do you know if he's in town?”
“I'll check around tomorrow,” Delvecchio said. “If he's not, then he's probably your guy. How you gonna get Byrnes to believe all this?”
“Why wouldn't he?”
“He takes his reputation very seriously,” the other man said. “He probably won't be crazy about the fact that you cracked this case yourself.”
“You mean I have to be careful of his ego?”
“I would.”
“Roper didn't tell me he had one.”
“Maybe Roper doesn't know,” Delvecchio said. “After all, how often do they really see each other?”
“You've got a good point.”
Delvecchio finished cleaning his bowl with a piece of bread, and then drained his beer mug.
“That was a helluva meal,” he said. “I've gotta remember this place.”
“You better remember something else, too.”
“What's that?”
“Byrnes is a regular here.”
“He is?”
Clint nodded. “In fact, this is his table.”
Delvecchio peered across at Clint and asked, “You tryin' to get me killed? If he walked in here and saw me—”
“He dropped me off just before you got here,” Clint said. “He's not coming back.”
“Just to be on the safe side—I'm outta here.” Delvecchio stood up.
Angie came running over, her breasts bobbing. “Leavin' so soon?”
“It pains me, darlin', but I gotta go. Clint, I'll be in touch.”
Delvecchio put on the bowler hat he'd carried in with him, doffed it to her, and then left. Clint was going to have to ask him about the hat. He'd never known anyone who could make a bowler work other than Bat Masterson.
That reminded him. Maybe there was a telegram from Bat at the hotel desk for him.
“You got plans for the rest of the night?” Angie asked.
“I thought I'd just wait in my room for you to finish up here.”
“Sure your little girlfriend won't be visitin' you?” she asked.
“Maybe I should go looking for her—”
“No, no,” Angie said, “that's okay. I get off here in a few hours. Will you be awake?”
He smiled and said, “I'll be awake, and ready.”
He entered the hotel lobby and went to the desk.
“Is there a telegram for me?” he asked.
“Sure is,” Ted or Owen said. “Came in this afternoon. ” He handed it over.
“Thanks.”
“Did, uh, your friend find you?”
“Yes, he did,” Clint said. “Oh, and Angie from next door will be coming in later.”
“I'll let her go right up.”
“Thanks.”
Clint took the telegram to his room and opened it when he was inside. According to Bat a young man had been seen in the company of Mrs. Wellington several times during the days before she died. According to Bat, he was, “tall, slender, a handsome lad.”
Sure fit the description of Ben Mandelbaum to a T.
TWENTY-EIGHT
When Bethany got back to the rooming house that night, she knocked on Ben's door. He answered immediately. She could tell by the redness of his face that Ma had slapped him once or twice that day.
“Can I come in?”
He nodded, backed away.
“I went to see him today.”
“Who?”
“The Gunsmith.”
“Why did you do that, Bethany?” he demanded, grabbing her by the shoulders.
“I had to, Ben,” she said. “I had to tell him that you didn't kill that woman.”
“And did you tell him who did?”
“No.”
“Well . . . it's good that you didn't,” he said. “Tellin' him it was Willie would lead him right to Ma.”
“Ben,” she said, “I probably led him to Ma just by talkin' to him.”
“Well,” he said, “he came by to see Ma while I was there. He was with Captain Byrnes.”
“What happened?”
“Nothin'. Ma talked her way out, like she always does.”
“Sometimes I wish she wouldn't,” Bethany said. “Sometimes I wish they'd just put her away.”
“And then Willie would take over,” Ben said. “That wouldn't help us at all.”
He was still holding her by the shoulders, but more gently now. It made her uncomfortable.
“Ben, let me go.”
Ben stared at her, but instead of letting her go he pulled her to him and kissed her, mashing his lips against hers. She pressed her lips tightly together and tried to pull away, but he was too strong. He didn't know how to kiss very well, but even if he did, he was her brother . . .
Finally, she managed to push away from him and catch her breath
“Ben Mandelbaum, don't you ever do that again.”
“Bethany, I love you.”
She turned, opened the door, and ran down the hall to her own room. She let herself in and locked the door behind her, then she wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
Alone in his room Ben cursed himself, then cursed his whole life. A mother like Ma, a half sister he had evil feelings for, a life that was going nowhere. Sometimes he just wanted to put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger.
But he couldn't get the taste of his sister off his lips.
Later, there was a knock on Bethany's door. She opened it cautiously. Ben was standing there looking contrite.
“I just wanted to tell you, Ma sent me to find you and bring you back.”
“For what?”
“I don't know,” he said. “It was after Adams and the captain left. She was mad, tol' me to go get you and bring you back to her.”
“She probably wants to talk about Denver,” Bethany said. “I don't want to talk about Denver. Let her get the story from Willie when he gets back. She's gonna believe his lies, anyway.”
“What should I tell her?”
“Tell her she won't have to worry about me anymore, ” Bethany said. “Tell her I ain't comin' back.”
“What are you gonna do, Bethany?” Ben asked. “How're you gonna make a livin'?”
“I'll talk to George,” she said. “He'll help me.”
“George Appo?” Ben asked. “He's too old for you!”
“I'm not gonna marry him, Ben,” she said. “I'm just gonna ask him for help.”
“And what do you think he's gonna want in return? ” Ben asked. “He's a dirty old man—”
“He's not even ten years older than me. You're just jealous, Ben. It's . . . It's sick!”
“Bethany, don't—”
She slammed the door in his face, then buried her face in her hands and cried.
Ben left the building, shoulders slumped, wondering how Ma was going to react to the news.
Bethany listened at her door. When she was convinced that Ben had gone, she opened it, hurried down the hall, and ran out of the building.
TWENTY-NINE
Clint left the hotel the next morning with very little strength in his legs. If he spent every night with Angie, he wouldn't be able to walk at all by the time he was ready to leave New York. The woman had one of the most voracious sexual appetites he had ever run into.
There had been a message waiting for him at the front desk with Owen—or Ted. It was from Delvecchio, asking Clint to meet him for breakfast in a restaurant that was just a few blocks away on Broad-way.
Clint found the restaurant to be small, clean, and doing a brisk business. It was, however, far different from the tavern, and not the kind of place Captain Byrnes would frequent. Delvecchio had already arrived and was seated at a back table.
“No chance of Byrnes runnin' into us here,” the detective said.
“I agree.”
They both ordered steak and eggs from a tired-looking, middle-aged waitress, then sat back with their coffee cups. Clint found the coffee weak, but said nothing.
“Why such an early meeting?” Clint asked.
“Too early for you? Did you have a rough night?” Delvecchio asked.
“No, I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” the other man said. “How did I find something out so quickly? I didn't, really. I just did some quick checking on Mother Baum. Her man, Willie O'Donnell, is out of the city.”
“Do we know where?”
“No, but let's guess Denver, shall we?”
“What's this Willie like?”
“Deadly,” Delvecchio said. “Likes to hurt people, likes to kill. And he's got friends who like the same things.”
“Why's he with . . . Ma?”
“Ma, Mother, Mother Baum, the Old Lady, she's called lots of things.”
“Byrnes said she was called Queen of Fences.” Delvecchio smiled.
“That's her favorite. I think she may have coined it herself. Anyway, Willie's probably warmin' her bed for the same reason he does everythin' else— profit.”
“So Willie probably went with the kids to Denver to . . . What? Teach them? Watch them? Help them?”
“You tell me. What'd you find out in Denver?”
Clint didn't bother telling Delvecchio that
he
hadn't found out anything, that he'd had to send Bat Masterson a telegram to try to find something out.
“A young man was seen in the company of the dead woman for a few days before her death.”
“That would be Ben. Anybody see a young girl around?”
“Not that we know of.”
“Yeah, but Ma would never send Ben alone. Bethany's the smart one.”
“Yesterday Ma said Bethany was a stupid girl.”
“That's because she hates her,” Delvecchio said, “but Ma knows she needs her. Ben would be useless without Bethany.”
“So what would happen if Bethany decided to leave Ma?”
“Well, Bethany's life would get better, Ben's would get worse, and Ma would probably hate the girl even more. In fact, I'd go so far as to say Bethany would make a bad enemy out of Ma.”
“She came to see me.”
“Bethany?”
Clint nodded. “Last night.”
“What did she want?”
“She begged me not to kill Ben, told me he didn't kill the woman in Denver.”
“She tell you who did?”
“Not a word. Either out of loyalty to Ma—”
“Or fear,” Delvecchio finished. “Bethany's not afraid of Ma, but she'd be afraid of what Ma would do to Ben.”
“The girl needs help,” Clint said. “She needs somebody to advise her, help her make up her mind.”
“Well, she's got somebody,” Delvecchio said. “She'd just have to be smart enough to ask him.”
“Who's that?”
“George Appo,” the detective said. “Part Asian, part Irish, best pickpocket in the city.”
“Did she learn it from him?”
Delvecchio nodded.
“George has two protégés, Bethany and a kid called Red.”
“I've met him,” Clint said. “I wasn't off the train ten seconds when I found his hand in my pocket.”
“The kid's got a great touch,” Delvecchio said. “I'm surprised and impressed you caught him.”

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