Rocco’s was empty as I slid into the booth. Dan Ciorrocco, the owner, walked over and dropped a manila envelope on the table along with a brandy sweet manhattan. “An older lady stopped by early this afternoon and left this package for you Max. Whoever she is, she really needs to shave” he said before turning around and walking behind the bar.
It had to be Mildred. I wondered what could be so important that it got her out from behind her desk to drive down here and drop this package off for me.
I had spent the entire morning down at police headquarters going through mug shots with Lieutenant Halloran and a Sergeant Wilson. I was unable to find a picture that even came close to what the little ferret looked like. They said Frank Meinberg was released from the hospital and should have a full recovery from his head wound. At least that was good news.
Before I left the precinct, a uniform stopped by Halloran’s office with a warrant for my arrest for outstanding parking tickets. Seems I have failed to respond to the traffic courts various summons over the past two years and a Judge Sebastian Rodgers had had about enough.
The officer turned me against the wall and slapped a pair of handcuffs on me.
“Hey man, not so tight,” I yelled.
“Relax; they’re tight because they’re new. They’ll stretch after you wear them a while,” he said as he led me down the hall to a holding cell.
Another smartass in a uniform, I said to myself. They allowed me to pay the outstanding fines plus interest and penalties so I was able to walk out. Unfortunately, my checking account was about two hundred bucks lighter when I left, but at least I was able to keep the city of Milwaukee running for a few more days. I worried about my dinner date at Mader’s this evening. If Harry showed up, not to mention Detective Williams, the bill would about wipe out what little cash I had left. I just deposited my check from the Daily Citizen so I had two weeks before I got paid again. I might have to hit up Eloise for a short term loan. She was never too happy when I asked her to float me some cash until the next pay day. I would remind her I would do the same thing for her if she needed it. She would reply that she never needed it and there wasn’t much I could say to that.
I noticed a strange looking guy sitting at the end of the bar. He had on lime green pants and a bright yellow sports coat over a pink shirt.
“Who’s that at the end of the bar? I asked. He must be color blind.”
“ That’s a friend of Ralph Mills’ named William Bennett. Goes by the name of Raja.” Rocco replied.
“Raja?”
“It means king in Hindi.”
“King, huh? I wonder what Elvis has to say about that?”
“ Ralph said he has been in and out of as many married women’s bedroom windows as he has.”
“That’s a lot.” I said.
“Sure is. You oughta see the chick he has singing with him.
She goes by the name of Barb E. Dahl. He said she is from the Dahl family that owns an automobile dealership in Madison.
They didn’t approve of the Raja and told him to get out of town. Guess their little Barb E. Dahl enjoyed the night life and went with him.
He had a gig playing the piano at the Commodore, a supper club up there that has a pretty good reputation. He’s not a bad singer as long as he keeps it in the shower. I told him I would give him a go here but he had to promise not to start singing until after ten. I figure by then whoever is in here is too far gone to give a shit what he sounds like. They are usually hanging on to each other for support on the dance floor while they get turned on rubbing up against one another. My shrink calls it frotteurism. Makes me wonder why I got in this business in the first place.”
“For the food,” I replied. “What in the hell is frotteurism?”
Rocco looked at me and smiled, “It’s a mental disorder in which a person derives sexual pleasure from rubbing their genitals, against another person.”
“I can relate to that. So that’s a mental disorder?”
“That’s what my shrink tells me. That makes everybody in this place fuckin’ mentally ill. At least Barb E. Dahl provides some eye candy for those too drunk to get up and dance.”
“I thought you said that shrink was a blond Nazi sociopath and that you were through seeing her?”
“I did. But she’s cute.”
Rocco left and I tore open the manila envelope and emptied the contents onto the table. One of the pieces of paper landed in some water left from the moisture of my manhattan glass. I dried it on my shirt and turned it over to read what was written.
It was a copy of a teletype from the Chicago police department on a homicide down there last Thursday. The victim, a Paul Godfrey, most recently from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, was found head down, literally, in a trash dumpster behind a Motor Inn on Calumet Avenue. Some dumpster diver looking for food noticed the legs sticking straight in the air from the middle of his dinner plate. The report said Godfrey was beaten so badly that it looked like somebody put his face in a blender. Next I looked at copies of the crime scene photos that were sent along and I had to admit Godfrey didn’t look so good.
A torn off sheet of notebook paper was clipped to the police report. It was from Marcello which said, the Chicago Police strongly believe it was a mob hit and have brought in the FBI to assist in finding the culprit, or culprits, responsible for the murder. The note read, Call me!
Dan came over with the bottle of Christian Brothers and started pouring, “You having anything to eat?”
“Can’t Rocco,” I replied.
“Gotta run. Here’s for the drinks. Can you get me a couple of nickels for the phone?”
“Be right back.”
“Thanks,” I said as I bent my head to look at the pictures of what remained of Paul Godfrey, wondering if his murder was connected to, not one beheading here in Milwaukee, but three. I had a strong suspicion it did.
I finished my brandy and was feeling pretty good, when I scooped up my change and the manila envelope containing the information on Godfrey’s murder, and walked to the pay phone back by the johns. I don’t know why Rocco put the phone back here. I guess he figured it was convenient to make a call and take a piss all at one time. The only benefit I could figure was that you could get a glimpse in the ladies room whenever someone went to powder their nose.