I decided to call Mader’s Restaurant. I was lucky as Gus’ daughter, Val, was taking reservations. I decided to sweet talk her first, hoping she would put us at the Stammtisch table.
“Val, its Max. How are you doing tonight?”
“I’m fine, thank you,” she replied. “Max who?”
“You’re kidding, right? Max Fly. You got on your lederhosen?”
“Now I remember you. Are you calling to make reservations?”
Seeing as I wasn’t getting anywhere with my charm, I decided to get to the point.
“Listen Val, I would like to make a reservation for eight o’clock tonight. There will be four of us.”
“Table for four? You must not be the Max I was thinking of. The one I know doesn’t have three friends.”
“I’d like the Stammtisch Table if it’s available.” I said ignoring her sarcasm. A Stammtisch in Germany is a table reserved for regulars at a restaurant or pub, designated by a reserved sign at the center of the table. Initially, it was where the people of higher status in a town gathered together. There are Stammtisches for languages, Stammtisches for members of the same professions, Stammtisches for philosophy or politics or cooking or music or knitting. There are even Stammtisches for men who like beards. But none for Ol’ Max Fly, I guess.
“You’re a stitch Max. Like that would happen. Table for four eight o’clock, nice view of the men’s room. See you then.”
Val hung up on me.
Next I called Marcello.
“Marcello and Associates private investigators, how can I help you?” Mildred answered.
I decided not to correct her grammar this time.
“Mildred, it’s me, Max. Hey, thanks for dropping that package off at Rocco’s for me. I appreciate it.”
“Mr. Marcello asked me to. What do you want, Max?”
So much for the niceties.
“Is the Wop in,” I asked?
The line went dead and then I heard it ring three times before Marcello’s gruff voice barked.
“What took you so long to call me, Max?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “Agent Steckel from the Chicago FBI Office called me to ask what our interest was in one Paul Godfrey. Seems he has been flying under the radar of the organized crime unit down there for the past couple of years. He dropped out of sight for the past four months before taking a dive in that dumpster off Calumet.”
“So, are they making the connection to our headless lady here in Milwaukee,” I asked?
“After getting off the phone with me they are. He will be calling Detective Marshall tomorrow morning to get the particulars. Harry won’t be too happy with me so you might want to give him a warning.”
“Aw hell, I’m having dinner with him tonight. I owe him for letting me in on another grisly beheading on the south side.”
“You’re kidding me Max?”
“Why would I be kidding you Pizza?”
“Max, it’s a figure of speech.”
“Oh.”
Whenever I go into a long conversation with Marcello, I usually end up calling him Pizza, the name he went by when we were kids.
“The woman’s name is Sally Hammonds and one of her co workers was worried when she didn’t show up for work the last few days and went to check on her. This one is a real doozy. Whoever took her head also took her heart and left lung, leaving an eight inch hole in the left side of her chest.”
“If it’s the same guy, he is escalating the violence,” Pizza said.
“Yeah looks that way Pizza. You think you could see what you could find on this Sally Hammonds for me? I gotta send my story up to the Daily Citizen and get cleaned up for my dinner tonight. I am hoping a few brandies will loosen Harry’s tongue a bit and he will give me some more information.”
“Yeah, I’ll see what I can dig up. Where you goin’ to eat?”
“Mader’s,” I replied.
“Hell, where you getting the cash for that, Eloise?” Marcello laughed.
“Very funny, but I might have to. I got caught for some back parking tickets I have been collecting and had to pay out a couple of C notes to leave the precinct this morning. Plus Detective Williams might be coming with Harry as well.”
“No kidding? That would make for some nice scenery, Williams and Eloise. Speaking of Mader’s, I just got off the phone with Gus. Someone stole his pork shanks and he isn’t real happy with the Milwaukee Police Department’s attitude toward his report of a break in and someone heisting his shanks. He said he had a couple of thousand pounds in that meat locker. He wants us to help find the culprits as he is mad as hell at the cops who responded.”
“Yeah, who took the call?” I asked.
“A Sergeant Dave Turner and Detective Jack Miller. A pair of jerk offs if there ever was one. The department should give IQ tests before they hire these monkeys.” Marcello replied.
“I heard of those two. I hear Sergeant Turner is gayer than a bouquet of pansies.
I gotta go,” I said and hung up.
I dropped another nickel down the slot and dialed Eloise.
“Hello?” Eloise answered on the first ring meaning she was probably sitting on the couch watching an afternoon soap opera waiting for my call.
“Hiya Babe, you ready to go to Mader’s for dinner tonight?”