Serritella swallowed and whispered something to the pretty young thing and came near the table with her, but didn’t sit.
“Heller,” he said, his voice rather high pitched and hoarse, “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m Jim Ragen’s friend. I had nothing to do with what happened to him.”
“Sure. Sit down. Sit down, Dan.”
He thought about that, and then came the rest of the way over, held a chair out for the girl, and she sat and he sat next to her, me on the other side of him.
“We’ll just stay a moment. Uh, this is my protegee, Miss Reynolds; she’s in show business and I thought she might enjoy one of these black-and-tans.” He directed his gaze toward Peggy. “Miss Hogan, you’re looking lovely tonight.”
Peggy said nothing; she was burning up, furious with me apparently, arms folded, staring straight ahead, toward where the floor show had been but where frantic jitterbugging by the patrons was now taking its place. Pete sat with his arms folded, watching me and Serritella, quietly amused; Reba, to whom our conversation must’ve seemed a foreign language, watched the jitterbuggers, too, but without Peggy’s angry glazed expression.
“We haven’t seen you at the hospital, Dan,” I said.
“I, uh, didn’t want to impose. I sent flowers.”
“Oh, and they were lovely. They meant a lot to Jim.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“He had me flush each flower down the toilet, one at a time.”
Peggy looked at me from the corners of her eyes, her attitude toward me changing.
Serritella drew back. “No.”
“I’m just kiddin’, Dan. He gave ’em to a nurse and asked her to give them to some worthy patient in Mandel Clinic.”
“I’m sorry to hear that Jim’s bitter. I passed my lie detector test, you know. Completely exonerated.”
“Yeah, and I heard about the questions. ‘Did you shoot Jim Ragen?’ Like anybody could seriously picture you a triggerman. ‘When did you last see Al Capone?’ Brother.”
“Well, it’s true. I haven’t seen Al in years.”
“So what? He hasn’t run the Outfit since liquor was illegal.”
He straightened his tie and tried to look indignant; it didn’t wash. “Well, Jim seems to think Al’s still in charge; that’s what he told the State’s Attorney’s office.”
“He told the State’s Attorney’s office that the Capone Outfit was out to get him. There’s a difference between Al Capone and the Outfit he left behind, as you damn well know.”
“That’s true, I suppose. But Jim did mention Capone…”
“Jim was just telling the State’s Attorney enough to send a warning signal to Guzik, but not enough to cause any real fireworks. You know that. You also know what’s in those affidavits Jim’s got socked away. He read ’em to you.”
Serritella nodded, his owl eyes blinking, double chin jiggling. “They’re dynamite. Jim should burn those. He really should.”
“I think Jim may be ready to negotiate.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t particularly like dealing with Jake Guzik personally. These meetings with mob chieftains look bad in my FBI file; I’ve been logged in surveillance records God knows how many times. They’ve tried to pull me in before Grand Juries because of it. Anyway, you’re a go-between, Dan. Everybody knows that. Do what you do so well. Take the message.”
“Which is?”
“Like I said. Jim might be ready to talk. But he needs something.”
“What’s that?”
“Assurance that Guzik wasn’t responsible for Monday.”
“Well, it was Siegel. Everybody knows that.”
“Even you, Dan? Who goes to so much trouble not to know too much? Just in case you have to take a lie detector test or something? You deal with these people daily, but you’re like a wife whose husband cheats but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t want to hear about it, what she don’t know won’t hurt her. Just as long as he’s bringing in a fat pay check, he can screw around all he wants.”
Serritella pursed his lips and reassuringly patted the arm of his blonde, who was taking this all in with wide eyes, like Shirley Temple watching Bill Robinson dance.
“You’re a very unpleasant man, Heller,” he said.
“I know what you mean-I can hardly stand my own company. What do you know about David Finkel and Joseph Leonard?”
He shrugged, shifting in his seat. “They’re bookies, aren’t they? West Side?”
“Yeah. Are they tied in with Guzik, do you suppose?”
“Geez, how should I know?”
“They’re the ones who shotgunned your friend Jim Ragen. Doesn’t that make you mad, Dan?”
He nodded, squinted his owlish eyes, tried to summon outrage, came nowhere near, saying, “Furious. The police should arrest them.”
“That’s a terrific idea, Dan. I’ll pass that along to Bill Drury; he’ll wish he’d thought of it. Now, from what I hear, Finkel and Leonard have dropped out of sight. It would be nice if they could turn up. Alive.”
Serritella nodded more slowly. “You mean, if they showed up alive, and held up under questioning…without mentioning Guzik…maybe mentioning somebody else…that might convince Jim of the sincerity of a certain business offer.”
“For a guy who don’t know what’s goin’ on,” I said, patting him on the back, “you got a lot of savvy, Dan.”
Serritella stood, pulled out the chair for his protegee, put her on his arm, and said to me, “I’ll see what I can do.” Then he smiled and nodded at the others at the table, including Peggy, who smiled at him pleasantly, though her violet eyes were icy. They were no longer icy when turned my way, however.
“Nice piece of work, Daddy-o,” Pete said, smiling one-sidedly, leaning back in his chair, arms folded over his massive chest. “You played that little fixer like a penny harmonica.”
“I may have come on a little strong,” I said. “He’s a weasel, but he’s a powerful weasel. On the other hand, he’s used to being looked down upon by his patron saints-a guy like Serritella is tolerated by Outfit guys, never liked, let alone respected. I thought I better treat him like I figure his bosses treat him.”
“Well you sure done a good job of it.”
“Thanks.” I looked about the room. “I don’t think your witness is going to show.”
“He’ll show,” Pete said. “Tad Jones is not gonna pass up a couple free rounds of drinks at the Club DeLisa. It ain’t even midnight yet. He’ll show.”