END OF CHAPTER 13

The firm pressure of his manicured fingers on her hand sent fireballs coursing through Sandy's veins. She wanted to reclaim her hand but sensed he was in control and wasn't ready to let go. Her thoughts were whirling like snowflakes in the wind. It bothered her that this charming man smiling at her knew so much about things that happened in Shanty Town only hours ago. What or who were his sources? Would his sunny smile turn to threatening clouds if she didn't share her story? 

She shivered; knowing she wanted to live, she chose her path. 

With trepidation, Sandy began sharing her story. "I was taking out the trash and heard screams. I grabbed my bat and rushed down the alley. Two thugs charged out of the shed and ran through the darkened yards. I heard Rudy moaning, and I rushed inside to him." She gulped and wiped away a trickle that ran down her cheek. "It was awful. Blood was everywhere, and his body was so distorted. Someone called the police. That's all I know." 

"Sandy, my dear, that might be all you shared with the local law enforcement, but you and I know you know more than what you are saying." His grip tightened enough to make his point. "I am wondering what made those guys think Rudy had something valuable. Let's start from the beginning of the night, shall we?" 

Sandy nodded. "These two guys were strangers. I'd never seen them before, but they were buying drinks and playing cards. It seemed harmless enough, and I could use the money. They were in the back booth, and Rudy was sitting at the bar. There in the corner." She pointed in the direction. 

Peter turned and looked where she pointed. "Did Rudy do or say something that caught their attention?" 

"No, he was drinking beer until his son joined him. Bennie was excited. Real nervous about something. He ordered doubles of Irish Whiskey. He was wearing this fancy ring. Of course, it caught my attention because I'd never seen it before. It wasn't something my clientele would wear or even own." 

"A ring? What did it look like?" Peter watched her, knowing she was mulling over the facts, deciding how much she was willing to share. 

"Big and fancy. It was gold with a black onyx inset. The diamond in the center sparkled. I asked him about it, but he said it was fake. He'd won it in a poker game." 

"Did you believe him? Was the kid a big gambler?" Peter prodded her, hoping for her to spill more information. 

"Not really, and I don't think Rudy did either. He started leaning into Bennie, asking questions." Sandy cleared her throat. "I'm not sure about the rest. It might be nothing." 

Peter sipped his coffee, giving Sandy a moment to regroup. "Let me decide that, okay?" 

"It was busy, and I was working the bar. I think Bennie showed his dad something. I didn't see it, but Rudy got excited and started yelling, drawing attention to their end of the bar. It upset Bennie." 

"So you didn't see what he showed his father?" Sandy answered with a shake of her head. "Hmmm, okay. Do you know what he was yelling?" 

"I'm not sure. The bar was noisy, but it sounded like diamonds. I'm not sure because where would Bennie get his hands on any diamonds? But whatever it was, Bennie must have gotten mad because he hightailed it out of there. After that, I saw the two guys — I think their names were Mason and Paddy — they invited Rudy to join them. Before long, they polished off several bottles of whiskey. It was closing time. I needed to clean up the bar, but Rudy was in no shape to get home on his own. I suggested I call Bennie, but the guys said they'd get him home if he didn't live far." Tears spilled out of her eyes. "Guess it's my fault Rudy's probably dying. I couldn't imagine either Bennie or Rudy with diamonds." 

"You can't blame yourself." He released her hand. "I'm sure they'll both get the justice they deserve." Peter stood, and so did his driver. "Thank you for the coffee and your time, Sandy." 

He turned and strolled toward the door without saying another word. Bruiser followed close behind him. Sandy rubbed her hand as she watched them, thankful they were leaving. 

The two stacks of bills sat on the bar, and the black bag remained where Bruiser had placed it. Sandy hesitated momentarily and then called to them, "Mr. Costello — Peter — you forgot your bag." She pointed to the bag. 

Without turning, he responded, "Keep it. It's a gift. We're friends, remember." 

Sandy watched the door close before racing towards it. She twisted the lock and then peered out the window. She watched both men climb into a sleek black sedan until her trembling legs crumbled, and she slipped to the floor. 

************************* 

Hank looked over the reports in his hand and then turned his attention to Emmy. "According to the officers on the scene, the shop owner and Frank O'Hara both said they heard gunfire, and then bullets shattered the plate-glass window and struck the O'Hara vehicles parked outside. A vehicle parked across the street sped away as O'Hara's men retaliated. Shots continued while Frank O'Hara got his family into their car and sped away from the scene." 

Hank skimmed the reports again. "I don't see his name or an interview in the file." 

"I didn't find anything either. It looks to me like the police decided he was in the wrong place at the wrong time and wouldn't provide them with any important information. Instead, they walked him out the back door and suggested he leave the crime scene. It wasn't until later that someone discovered the dead body further down the alley. He'd been shot, but they couldn't find a match to the bullet." 

Emmy reached across the desk and picked up a book. "This was the shop owner's appointment book, and from what I see, Mr. Blackwell was the only other person with an appointment that day. Nothing indicates whether he kept the appointment, though."  

"Have you spoken with him?" Hank leaned across the desk to look at the appointment book. Emmy's cologne was intoxicating. 

"I tried, but he was too ill. His butler and caregiver told me Mr. Blackwell had a sister who had recently lost her life in a car accident. The only other family was her son. His whereabouts were unknown, and I was told he never attended his mother's funeral." 

"No wonder this has been a cold case for so long. Either everyone was afraid to speak, or they're dead." 

"There was one rookie cop —" 

"Well, there's a start. Let's see what he says, or did you already interview him?" 

"Unfortunately, he's dead, too." Emmy paused and glanced away. "From what I could learn about him, most people thought he asked too many questions about the wrong people. Even though I didn't know him, he sounded like he was on the road to being one of the good ones." Emmy sipped her coffee, then added, "Guys like him ruffle the wrong feathers sometimes. He asked questions that people didn't want to be asked." 

Hank growled into his coffee cup. "Sounds to me like he was doing his job." 

"Yeah, well, he radioed in a routine traffic stop out on Baxter Road, but later, when he didn't respond to his dispatcher, a squad went out to check and found him murdered. It's assumed the driver shot and killed our boy. Coincidental? I don't know." Emmy searched the top of Hank's desk. "Have you seen a green spiral notebook?" 

Hank held up a tattered notebook with several loose pages hanging out the side. "Is this what you're looking for?" 

"Yes, it is." Emmy took it from Hank and flipped through the pages till she found what she wanted. "Nobody took the young cop seriously, but I think he was observant. He wrote that Costello and his men were seen in the area numerous times before the robbery and shoot-out. Even though Costello had so-called witnesses placing him out of town, our rookie wrote that he saw Costello exit the jewelry store the day before the shooting." 

"Interesting, but he could have been mistaken, I suppose." 

"Maybe." Emmy leaned back in her chair and stared out the window. "I found it odd that our rookie's notes show he'd seen our dead stranger, the one found in the alley, leaving the shop two days prior. He crossed the street to talk to an unknown individual. His notes say they exchanged a brief conversation and then went their separate ways." 

"What about Mrs. O'Hara? Was she able to provide useful information about what happened before the shooting?" 

"The poor woman was so distraught; her doctor placed her in a sanitarium, where she remained till her death." 

"A bloody gang war with each family blaming the other and claiming no connection to the heist added to a million-dollar robbery, and not one stone surfaced to this day." Hank's brain was spinning, but his eyes were glued to the woman sitting across from him. He wanted to remain there all day. 

Admonishing himself, he added, "Maybe we should start with the O'Hara family. I thought I read about a daughter — Elizabeth O'Hara and a grandson." 

"Yes, Elizabeth's son is Cooper O'Hara. He's an upstanding physician at Mercy Hospital, so I am told. Emmy pushed her chair away from the desk and stood. "Let me check my office for messages, and we can make a visit." 

"Sounds great. It gives me time to sample one or two of these pastries. My mouth has been watering for the past hour." 

Emmy laughed and headed for her office as Hank took a large bite of his first pastry.