The Holy City Hustle: A Duke Dempsey Mystery Page 13

  Duke and Stampkin both looked down at the figure who had just injected himself into the conversation. Duke looked shocked, and immediately shot a gaze over at Stampkin.

  “Commissioner, Duke and I were just going over some details of the case.”

  “Nice work, Dempsey. Johnny said you’d got a solid lead on the ledger,” Commissioner Derflinger said as he waddled up the dune.

  Duke wasn’t sure how to react. The newest name to come up in the investigation had just decided to make a guest star appearance out of the blue. It was hard for him to fault Johnny when it came to doing things by the book. He’d always been a stickler, and it seemed the wily vet wasn’t about to stray too far off the reservation on this one.

  “It’s just a working theory, but you nailed it, Commish. Why would Mayor Swanson buy a new home just months after moving into the Mayor’s Mansion?” Duke asked.

  “Seems stronger than just a theory. Just so you know, I told Detective Stampkin to keep my involvement close to the vest. If there are rats on my ship, I want to nail them to the wall before they get a chance to jump. If what Johnny says is true, then this ledger is about to bring the Holy City to its knees, and I want to be there to thwart any attempts to keep it quiet.” Commissioner Derflinger reached into his jacket pocket and handed Duke a familiar-looking object.

  Duke looked down at the golden badge he’d unceremoniously handed back earlier that summer. It read, ‘Special Deputized Law Enforcement Officer,’ and had the City of Charleston symbol on it. Duke squeezed it before looking back up into Derflinger’s eyes. He wasn’t sure if he could trust the commissioner, but right now he didn’t have much choice. The number one priority was to get the ledger and finish what poor Isabella had started. Once Johnny and Duke got the ledger, they could sort out which side the commish fell on.

  “So, where to?”

  Duke pulled out the note Margo passed to him in the office. “The old cottage overlooking Breach Inlet.”

  The cottage was one that was more known for old folklore than anything else. It stood at the end of a long, windy dirt road that traveled the coastline. The cottage had been built during World War 1 and was supposed to be a military outpost, constructed with a crow’s nest that extended about thirty feet high. It was one of the many flops that had never panned out for the Army, and had soon been turned into luxury quarters for the Fort Moultrie Commanding Officer. The crow’s nest had become a veranda with a breathtaking view for entertaining and sipping back the perfect cocktail.

  The Army had sold the property in the early 1920s to a rich banker, who had turned it into his weekend getaway. He had passed five years ago, and the place remained abandoned until Mayor Swanson had quietly purchased the property two months ago. Duke found it odd that such a purchase could fly under the radar, but being the mayor did come with some perks.

  Duke looked in his rearview mirror at the two cars that had followed him down the sandy dirt road. Johnny was right behind Duke, and Derflinger was behind him. He felt uneasy with the commissioner tagging along, but knew Johnny had his back no matter how messy things got. The clock was ticking, the body count was rising, and there was more at stake than Isabella could have ever realized.

  The three pulled up to the impressive cottage and parked in the sandy front lot. The one-story house with a crow’s nest style veranda had come a long way from the days when it was in service with the US Army. The stark white siding and baby blue door screamed coastal villa. The crow’s nest extended from the middle of the house almost three stories in the air, and matched the siding of the cottage. The unique addition almost resembled the top of a lighthouse, with a deck surrounding the structure.

  “Swanky hideout,” Derflinger said as he approached Duke.

  Duke gave a momentary nod to the commissioner before focusing his gaze upon the crow’s nest that sat on top of the seaside cottage. He placed his hand inside his jacket, ensuring that ‘Sarah’ was still strapped in. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up, and he wasn’t about to let his guard down.

  The brief silence was interrupted by the racking of a shotgun. Duke and Derflinger looked back and saw Johnny walking up from the trunk of his car with some extra firepower.

  “You hang around this guy long enough, you know to come prepared,” Johnny joked as he nodded in Duke’s direction.

  Chapter 21- Ticket Home

  Carbone made sure to keep a safe distance behind the train of cars which he followed. The dust and sand that they threw in the air made the perfect smokescreen, and kept his presence unknown. He wasn’t sure if this little adventure was going to finally lead him to the ledger, but he was hopeful.

  He looked down at his wristwatch and smiled, as he knew he had plenty of time to catch his luxurious getaway. The phone call with Bertucci had made it very clear the only way he would be going back to Havana in style would be with the ledger in hand. He was also quite anxious for another meeting with Mr. Duke Dempsey.

  There was something about the wise-cracking sleuth that Carbone admired. The confidence that Duke had displayed in their initial meeting had the Italian hitman seeing a little of himself in Duke. Who knew, maybe a right when Billy had turned left, and they would’ve been on the same side of the law. That was all water under the bridge, and he was at peace with where his path had led.

  He could hear the drink glasses and the splashing of the pool in the background as he spoke to his boss. He had a hard time concentrating on what was being said as he drifted in thought about being back in the tropical playground. The ledger was his ticket home, and Carbone knew that failure could end up being a detriment to his health. He hated taking his cues from the new players in the southern city, but his boss had given him strict orders to play by their rules. He was hoping they would finally come through with some solid information, and this little powwow on the beach looked promising.

  This gig would keep his benefactor happy, and in turn, give Carbone the ability to continue his mission of ridding the world of the weak. He looked forward to seeing if Dempsey fell in that category, or was the rival he longed for. He’d gotten the best of the sleuth during the City Hall showdown, but had a feeling the next meeting would be a little more exhilarating.

  He could see the silhouette of what appeared to be the top of a lighthouse protruding from the tree line up ahead. Billy was sure that this was the destination of his targets, and decided to pull his car off the side of the road near a group of palm trees and seagrass.

  He got out of the car and put on the white Havana hat that matched his suit. He looked sharp as always in the stark white. “Bad guys don’t always wear black,” he said to himself as he fixed his hat in the side view mirror.

  Carbone went around to the trunk of his car and opened up a black leather case. He grabbed the Thompson submachine gun from it and slid in the round drum magazine loaded with enough ammunition to take on a small gang. Carbone’s mission was the ledger, and everything else was expendable. His Tommy gun ensured he was ready for any surprises.

  Carbone walked through the sand and seagrass in the direction of where he’d heard the vehicles park. His brown and white wingtips burrowed beneath the sand with each step until he arrived at the unique seaside cottage. Carbone squatted down in a clump of grass and blotted the sweat that formed above his brow with his cotton handkerchief. He sat and watched the three men enter the structure, and once the door closed, he cocked the Thompson and strategically made his way around back.

  Chapter 22- Bingo!

  As the three entered the cottage, Duke took a glance around, trying to get the lay of the land. The place seemed a little dusty from the lack of use, but the air of luxury wasn’t lost at all.

  “Some cottage,” the commissioner murmured.

  The front door entered into a large open living area that had a couch and a few chairs near a white stone fireplace. There was a large bookshelf on the left wall with various books and trinkets scattered throughout. The center of the bookshelf held a beaded c
rystal decanter with some rocks glasses and various bottles of spirits, making Duke take a second glance, wondering what libations laid beneath. Thanks to the lack of dusting, there was evidence that a bottle had recently been taken off the shelf.

  Duke quickly scanned the books, and noticed that the majority were old and had probably come with the sale of the house. A lone shelf, however, was recently dusted off, and had a few books that seemed newer than the rest. One book, in particular stood out to Duke, giving him confirmation that at the very least, the late Mayor Swanson had started to move in some belongings. It had a brown leather binding with a thick black font that read, ‘The 1917 Sox.’ It was probably a summary following the White Sox to their World Series that year, and a golden memory to any Chicago White Sox fan, including Swanson.

  Directly in front of the three detectives were three doors, a wooden spiral staircase that led up to the veranda, and a dining area that led to a kitchen on the right side of the cottage. Duke walked over to the table in the dining room and put down his hat. “ All right, boys, you know what we’re looking for. Pick your poison.”

  “I’ve got this room,” Johnny said as he marched to the door on the far left with his shotgun in hand.

  “I’ll take the one in the middle,” Derflinger said, and threw his hat next to Duke’s on the table.

  Duke opened up the third door and noticed it was a water closet. It was a white tiled bathroom, with a sink, toilet, and a deep tub. Pretty snazzy bathroom, compared to what Duke was used to. He took a glance inside and shouted to the other two, “Looks like I’m headed topside.” He grabbed his hat off the table and made his way up the spiral staircase.

  As Duke climbed, he couldn’t help but be in awe of the structure. The stairs spiraled around him, and he caught a glimpse of the outside as he peered out each porthole-style window he passed. The walls were made of white brick, and the wooden stairs creaked as Duke ascended to the top. He finally came to a black door with two glass panes that allowed the sun to shine through.

  Duke turned the knob and walked out onto the veranda. It was similar to the catwalk that normally surrounded the top of most lighthouses, but this one had been repurposed and expanded to three times the original size. Sun chairs and wicker tables lined the deck on all sides, and a wicker bar with three stools was positioned against the side of the structure. Duke thought it resembled a poolside cabana from one of those fancy yacht clubs the Crosbys often visited. Duke had come into money since his business had taken off, but this was on a level he would probably never reach.

  The vista was simply breathtaking, as the cottage gave unobstructed views of the inlet and the Atlantic. There was a small garden down to the left of the cottage that had various flowers and herbs. Aside from the lack of housekeeping in the joint, it was the only thing that looked unkempt. It was overrun by weeds of some sort which covered most of the flowers. A gardening basket was barely visible, sticking out from the sea of deep green with a pair of shiny gardening shears nearby. Duke looked back up at the ocean and whistled to himself as he adjusted his hat. He could’ve stared at the water all day with an Evan on the rocks, if he hadn’t had a job to do.

  Duke started scouring the veranda, and went through every chair, table, and compartment with a fine-tooth comb. He was coming up empty-handed wherever he looked, and was starting to get a little discouraged. He ducked back into the structure to see if there was anything around the door or the walls that could’ve concealed the ledger, but again he came up with zilch.

  Not hearing any signs of success from down below, the frustration started to set in, and Duke made his way back out on the veranda. He looked around and sauntered over to the wicker bar against the wall. There was a lone bottle on the bar, with a glass next to it. He took out a Lucky, lit up, and leaned against back in deep thought, when he was interrupted by his former mentor.

  “Any luck up here?”

  “Nah. I just don’t get it. You or the commish come up with anything?”

  “I turned her room inside out. Found some clothing in a bag, a hairbrush and a Bible,” Detective Stampkin said, as he took out a smoke of his own and sat down on a stool next to Duke.

  “Everything a girl needs,” Duke said with a crooked smile. “What about Derflinger?”

  “Not a damn thing. Nobody’d touched that room in a year. He’s going through the kitchen now, but it’s not looking good.”

  “I thought I had it all figured out, John. The stars were lining up, and now nothing. Without that ledger we’ve got squat.”

  “Nobody gets it right all of the time. Not even the all-knowing Duke Dempsey,” Stampkin said, and took another drag as he inspected the glass sitting near the bottle.

  “I’m not accepting that. Where else could she have hidden the book?”

  “Maybe she had another contact. Maybe she found a random spot in Charleston. Maybe she left it back in Cuba,” Johnny said, as he tilted the glass he was staring at to the side.

  “She wouldn’t have played the damsel-in-distress role with me if she had another knight in shining armor to run to, and no way she did she just toss it anywhere in a foreign country. No, this makes sense. Hell, this was the home run. Nobody knew about this place except for Isabella and Mayor Swanson.”

  “What the hell is this?” Johnny said, interrupting Duke’s rambling as he continued to stare at the glass.

  “It’s a dirty glass, John. At least she had a few cocktails before she bit the big one,” Duke said as he flicked his cigarette across the veranda.

  “Whatever the hell she was drinking, it sure doesn’t look like she enjoyed it,” he said as he put down the glass.

  Duke picked up the bottle, which read, ‘Bacardi Santiago de Cuba.’ He picked up the glass and smelled the contents. “What you have here, my friend, is a classic Cuban concoction called a mojito. That sticky substance and green mush you are looking at is sugar mixed with some mint leaves,” he said as he uncorked the bottle and took a nice big swig.

  “Well, the Cubans can keep it. I like my booze made from corn, with nothing but ice,” the grumpy detective moaned.

  “What did you just say?”

  “The Cubans can keep their mojito.”

  “That’s it!”

  “What’s it?”

  Duke ran back over to the railing of the veranda and focused his gazed back down at the overgrown garden. Johnny took his time following.

  “What are ya thinking?”

  “That,” Duke said as he pointed to the garden.

  Johnny gave a puzzled look down upon the unkempt garden. “I don’t follow, partner.”

  The two made their way down the spiral staircase and out to the garden. Derflinger was lying on the floor in the kitchen, shining a light in the cabinets under the sink.

  “Checking something outside,” Duke said as they walked out the front door.

  The two detectives went to the garden, and Duke knelt, plucked one of the green weeds from the garden, and smelled it. “It’s mint. Anyone who plants mint knows that it’s invasive, and you need to seriously maintain it, or it will overtake a garden just like this one.”

  Johnny, still panting from the brisk trek they’d just made from the top of the cottage, took off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow with his forearm. “I’m not following.”

  “Mojitos. Cubans drink mojitos. Something Isabella said to me in my office, but I didn’t put much stock into it. She said that the ledger was in a safe place and nobody would find it unless maybe they were Cuban. At the time I thought she was just making a jest, but the pieces fit.”

  “Ok, but what do mojitos have to do with the ledger?”

  “She must have known that if someone discovered where she was staying, they would tear the house apart, but who would think to look in a garden?” Duke asked.

  “A Cuban looking for some mint to make a mojito,” Johnny added, starting to follow.

  “Bingo!”

  Duke went straight to the gardening basket that w
as buried in the sea of mint leaves. He pulled it out and placed it in a clearing at the side of the garden. He opened the top and looked down. There was a metal claw used to loosen dirt, and a pair of dirty gloves that appeared to be used for gardening. Both items were lying on top of what appeared to be a folded blanket.

  Something about the blanket didn’t sit right with Duke because there was no dirt or soil on it. Duke took out the items and placed them on the ground. Johnny was now looking down at the basket with an intense look of curiosity on his face.

  Duke reached into it and pulled out a two-inch-thick book. It had an old weathered brown leather cover, with a thin leather strap that tied around a small golden notch protruding from the face. The book had seen some use in its day, and on the front read, ‘Hotel Sevilla Cuentas.’

  Duke immediately looked up at Johnny with a grin from ear to ear. “Bingo!”

  Chapter 23- You Kids Play Nice

  Duke and Johnny brought the ledger back into the cottage and placed it on the dining room table.

  Johnny patted Duke on the back and just shook his head in disbelief. “You never cease to amaze me.”

  “Come on, now. A couple more minutes and you would’ve figured it out all on your own,” Duke said, giving a sarcastic nod.

  He took two smokes out of his pack and handed one to Detective Stampkin. He lit his cigarette and focused his attention back on the ledger. In a brief moment, a multitude of thoughts raced through his mind. Everything that he’d been through and everything that Isabella had sacrificed culminated in what lay in front of him. Answers to questions he had been asking ever since he’d gotten railroaded off the force could all be in the brown leather book. Duke took another long drag and then started to unravel the thin strap that held the cover closed shut.

  “Why don’t you let me open that?” Stampkin asked.

  “Are you kidding me? Don’t even try and play that chain of custody bullshit when so much is on the line. Isabella came to me, and I plan on seeing this damn thing through.”