'What difference does it make? I got it, didn't I? Without a problem. No sweat. And it's right, dammit. It's the breakthrough we needed. Who has to know? Nobody has to know. It doesn't matter. I didn't burglarize anything. I didn't steal anything. I just looked through some drawers, that's all. Hell, those drawings might even be in the public domain, for all I know.'
'I don't know what difference it makes, but we got to tell Mr. Becker. He will have to know.'
'But it's good information. It is good, isn't it, Mr. Earl? I mean, it's good combat intelligence.'
'It is, Short.'
'What will happen to me?'
'I don't know.'
'Can't you just say you got an anonymous tip?'
'No. Not anymore. Becker wants more control from now on. I can't order up the raids myself. He has to check off. I have to run this by him. We have to see what he says, all right?'
'Look,' argued Frenchy, 'now that we know what it is, it's just a matter of time until we can find something to support it. Once we find that out, we go to Becker and say that that's the primary evidence. Then we have our cause, we take the joint out, and we're all heroes and we go home happy. It's easy.'
'You are a clever little bastard,' said Earl.
'I ain't getting into no big lying situation. I will have to rim this by Becker. It's his call. If it were my call, who knows, but it's his call, he's the one who has to answer for it, he's the one signing the checks. It may be different now after all that shooting last time out. We just got back from a trip to Hot Springs, looking exactly for this information. But goddammit, Earl, you and I'll git back up there tonight and talk to him. Short, you stay here. Don't you tell nobody. You hear? Nobody! Got that?'
'Yes sir,' said Frenchy. 'But I'm telling you, this can be the big one.'
Frenchy spent the day in Texarkana. A movie called O. S. S. with Alan Ladd had just come out, and he sat through it twice, though he knew it was phony. It couldn't have been like that in the war. The girl was some new actress he'd never seen, and who wasn't that beautiful, and everyone smoked. But they didn't have the class the OSS people had, Frenchy was sure; his uncle had class, a savoir faire, a mysterious intimation that life was more fun if you cultivated an ironic disposition and could hold your liquor.
When he got back, it was around 6:00. Three of the men had returned already, Bear, Eff and Billy Bob, called Bob Billy for silly reasons, and the four had a kind of hearty how-ya-doin' escapade there, exchanging stories. The three had gone to New Orleans and had a really fine time. When the conversation got around to Frenchy, he got very vague. He just said he'd had a damned good time too.
Then a car pulled in, and it was Earl and Mr. D. A. They welcomed the men back, chatted poindessly for a while, and finally left. Earl nodded at Frenchy and he joined the two in the office.
They sat. It was darkening, and the old man turned on a lamp that filled the dreary little room with yellow light. Outside a bit ofTexas wind moaned.
Finally the old man looked up.
'Here, I got this for you,' he said. It was a letter, on the official stationery of the Garland County Prosecuting Attorney's Office. 'Mr. Earl had to work like hell to get this. He swore Fred Becker up one side and down the other, and said he'd walk if Sid didn't cough up a letter.'
'A letter?' said Frenchy.
'A letter of recommendation. You deserve it,' said the old man.
Frenchy looked over at Earl, who just sat there, darkness shading his eyes.
To Whom It May Concern:
Walter F. Short was in the employ of this office as an investigator and warrant-serving officer between July 28 and September 12, 1946. During this time, he performed his duties with exemplary courage and professional commitment. He exhibited a great deal of enterprise in the accomplishment of all tasks given him. He has a great future in law enforcement.
Fred C. Becker Prosecuting Attorney Garland County, Arkansas
'It ain't bad,' said D. A., 'considering at one point this afternoon he wanted to indict you and send you to jail for breaking and entering.' 'I don't understand it.' 'You been fired, son,' said Earl at last. 'I've been fired?'
'Mr. Becker says he's got to allay community fears about us being out-of-control gunmen. He has to tell people that he's taken command of the team, and that the 'bad apples' have been let go. You got the nod as the bad apple. As I say, he wanted to make a public example of you. Earl here got him to see what a bad idea that was.'
Frenchy just stared off into space. 'I found the Central Book,' he finally said. 'Doesn't that count for anything?'
'It counts for not going to prison and walking out of here with a nice letter that'll git you a job anywhere you want. Meanwhile Earl and I have to find some way to justify the raid. We got to do it all legal-like. That's Mr. Becker's order.'
'It's not fair,' said Frenchy. 'No, it's not.'
'It's just politics,' said Frenchy. 'Yes, it is.'
'You can't let him do this.'
'I can't stop him from doing this/' said the old man. 'I can't stop him from doing anything. He says the governor is leaning on him from above and he's got people in the community leaning on him from below.'
Frenchy turned to Earl. 'You supported this?'
Earl looked him in the eye.
'Sometimes you get a bad officer above you. It ain't supposed to happen, but it's in the cards. So you got to go along until you get an opportunity to make things right. You got to hold the unit together, you got to put up with the shit, you got to keep running the patrols. You got to take some losses. You're the loss, Short.'
'Jesus,' said Frenchy. 'All these guys, from Podunk City and Hick Town U. S. A., and Toad Pond, Oklahoma, and I'm the one that gets canned. Jesus Christ, I fought for you guys. I killed for you guys. It's just not right. Can I at least see Becker?'
'Bad decision,' said Earl. 'He don't like face-to-face things. Figures, I'd say. Anyhow, he don't like that kind of pressure and he could still indict you for B and E, or maybe even if he wanted to for shooting them two boys out back of that casino. Do yourself a favor. Learn from this, get the hell out of town, and go on with the rest of your life. You're young and smart. You won't have no trouble.'
'But I?'
'Yeah, I know. But the key thing here is, don't let it get to you. Take it from me, son. Just start over fresh, and don't let this thing haunt you. Me and Mr. D. A., we're sorry. But it's an outfit thing, a politics thing. Learn from this: it's the way the world works.'
Chapter 34
Pap Grumley's death, of the commingled impact of grief and clap, pretty much finished the Grumleys as a possibility, as far as Owney was concerned. He would keep the Grumleys around to service his empire, to receive and make his payoffs, to lubricate the machine, to bust the odd debtor and the like, but he knew that without Pap's stalwart leadership and heart, the Grumleys were done as a fighting force. Flem would stay as his factotum, but Flem would never be the man Pap was. Flem wasn't a wartime leader, not by a long shot.
So Owney finally made the decision that he'd been toying with all these weeks. He went to his gas station near Lake Catherine and placed his long-distance call to Sid in New York. He spoke to Sid, told him what was required. Sid did the legwork, made the connections, set up the proper channels and finally Owney reached the party he needed to reach. This was a Mr. A, who himself was speaking from a pay phone to avoid the possibility of federal wiretaps.
'Thank you so much for talking with me, Mr. A. I hate to bother you.'
'It's nothing. Talk to me, Owney. Tell me what I can do to help you,' said Mr. A.
'I got a problem. I got cops like you never saw. These fuckers, they come inta one a my joints with machine guns and shot the shit out of the place. They killed eleven boys of mine. Chicago, the fat Sicilian, that Valentine's
