Sunday Morning. I went out to buy the Herald-Star and read it over breakfast. I was half-way through my second cup of coffee when I saw the name Mattingly: Mattingly’s body had been found last night in Kosciuszko Park. He had been hit by a car and carried to the park to die.
I called Bobby Mollory and asked him about Mattingly.
‘You know I don’t like you talking about crime with me, Vic. Why are you interested in Mattingly?’
‘He played for the Black Hawks, that’s all.’
‘Well, he was no good. He owed money to everyone he knew. For once, you leave this case to the police.’
I knew I should tell Bobby what I knew about Mattingly, but I wanted to talk to Bledsoe first and find out why Mattingly had flown home in his plane.
I phoned Murray Ryerson at home. ‘I’ll give you an interview on the Lucella disaster,’ I told him.
‘what do you know about that?’ he asked sharply.
‘I was there. I watched the whole thing happen. I may even have seen the person who planted the bomb.’
‘I don’t believe you’re calling me about this! What do you want from me, Vic?’
I asked Murray about Mattingly.
‘A small-time criminal. No good. Avoided prison. Desperate for money. Out of town before his death.’
‘What shoes was he wearing?’
There was silence. ‘You’re thinking of the footprint in Boom Boom’s apartment,’ Murray said at last. ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out.’
There was nothing more I could do until tomorrow. I went outside and got Boom Boom’s papers and pictures from the trunk and took them up to my apartment. As I unlocked the door, I dropped everything. The trophy and pictures fell with a crash. The glass over the pictures shattered and I got a box for the pieces of glass. As I took the broken glass from the photo of me, two pieces of paper slid out from behind the picture.
One piece of paper was an invoice from the Grafalk Steamship Line to the Eudora Grain Company, showing loads by ship, date of departure and arrival. The second piece of paper, written in Boom Boom’s tiny handwriting, listed six dates when Pole Star had lost contracts to Grafalk.
I poured myself a drink. Boom Boom had called me about his information and had put the papers behind my picture to prevent anyone else from finding them. A stab of pain hit my chest. I missed Boom Boom terribly. I wanted to cry, but no tears would come.
I wondered if it was time to let the police question everyone. The answer to everything lay in Boom Boom’s papers. I’d give myself twenty-four more house, then turn it over to Bobby.
Sunday Morning. I went out to buy the Herald-Star and read it over breakfast. I was half-way through my second cup of coffee when I saw the name Mattingly: Mattingly’s body had been found last night in Kosciuszko Park. He had been hit by a car and carried to the park to die.
I called Bobby Mollory and asked him about Mattingly.
‘You know I don’t like you talking about crime with me, Vic. Why are you interested in Mattingly?’
‘He played for the Black Hawks, that’s all.’
‘Well, he was no good. He owed by SuperManCoupon" style="border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; text-indent: 0px !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: auto !important; margin: 0px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; text-decoration: underline !important; vertical-align: baseline !important; width: auto !important; background: transparent !important;">money to everyone he knew. For once, you leave this case to the police.’
I knew I should tell Bobby what I knew about Mattingly, but I wanted to talk to Bledsoe first and find out why Mattingly had flown home in his plane.
I phoned Murray Ryerson at home. ‘I’ll give you an interview on the Lucella disaster,’ I told him.
‘what do you know about that?’ he asked sharply.
‘I was there. I watched the whole thing happen. I may even have seen the person who planted the bomb.’
‘I don’t believe you’re calling me about this! What do you want from me, Vic?’
I asked Murray about Mattingly.
‘A small-time criminal. No good. Avoided prison. Desperate for by SuperManCoupon" style="border: none !important; display: inline-block !important; text-indent: 0px !important; float: none !important; font-weight: bold !important; height: auto !important; margin: 0px !important; min-height: 0px !important; min-width: 0px !important; padding: 0px !important; text-transform: uppercase !important; text-decoration: underline !important; vertical-align: baseline !important; width: auto !important; background: transparent !important;">money. Out of town before his death.’
‘What shoes was he wearing?’
There was silence. ‘You’re thinking of the footprint in Boom Boom’s apartment,’ Murray said at last. ‘I don’t know, but I’ll find out.’
There was nothing more I could do until tomorrow. I went outside and got Boom Boom’s papers and pictures from the trunk and took them up to my apartment. As I unlocked the door, I dropped everything. The trophy and pictures fell with a crash. The glass over the pictures shattered and I got a box for the pieces of glass. As I took the broken glass from the photo of me, two pieces of paper slid out from behind the picture.
One piece of paper was an invoice from the Grafalk Steamship Line to the Eudora Grain Company, showing loads by ship, date of departure and arrival. The second piece of paper, written in Boom Boom’s tiny handwriting, listed six dates when Pole Star had lost contracts to Grafalk.
I poured myself a drink. Boom Boom had called me about his information and had put the papers behind my picture to prevent anyone else from finding them. A stab of pain hit my chest. I missed Boom Boom terribly. I wanted to cry, but no tears would come.
I wondered if it was time to let the police question everyone. The answer to everything lay in Boom Boom’s papers. I’d give myself twenty-four more house, then turn it over to Bobby.
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