'I really shouldn't be boring you with this,' Ness said. He wondered what it was about the girl that made him open up so. He had rarely talked so openly to Evie about his work. Not since the days when Evie was his secretary back in Chicago, anyway.
But Gwen, as worldly as she apparently was, was naive about cop concerns, for a cop's daughter. Cooper had obviously sheltered her from it all.
'I don't even know how you can find time to do all this police work,' Gwen said, starting in on the antipasto that the waiter had delivered during their discussion of the numbers racket. 'Just your speaking engagements alone take up enough of your time.'
That was true. In the past two weeks, he'd shared his 'experiences as a G-man' in addresses to the Advertising Club, the Auto Club, Cleveland College, and the Boy Scouts of America-Wild had a laugh on that one.
'It comes with the territory,' he shrugged. 'The mayor wants me visible. We're trying to pry a big budget out of a largely unsympathetic city council.'
'So you have to be a star.'
'If that's what talking to the Boy Scouts of America makes you.' He nibbled at the antipasto plate. 'How are the other girls in the office treating you?'
'Very nicely. I'm surprised that they are, since I'm a young upstart put suddenly in charge of things.'
'I've had some experience in that line, myself.'
'Didn't your former secretary resent being shuffled out?'
'Betsy? No. She didn't like the pace of my office. She's working in the City Hall Library now. Much more restful.'
'Eliot, maybe I shouldn't say anything…'
'What?'
She was looking past him. 'There's a man at a table in the corner. He's been watching us. Or at least I think he has.'
Ness turned and looked.
A small man in his late thirties dressed in a gray suit and blue tie sat with a blonde even more lovely than Gwen, at least superficially so. They were being serenaded by the violinist waiter-'Come Back to Sorrento.' The blonde was big and buxom, wearing a lot of make-up and a tight, dark blue gown. She was perhaps eighteen years old. The small man was balding and had a bulbous nose and squinty eyes and a pleasant smile. He put his fork down to smile at Ness and lift his hand in a gentle wave. Then he returned to his spaghetti.
Ness, who had not waved back, turned and looked at the food which the waiter was putting before them. Gwen was looking at him with concern.
'What's wrong?' she asked.
'Nothing.'
'Who is that guy?'
'It's not important.'
'Don't go tight-lipped on me now, boss. My curiosity's killing me.'
'It's Mo Horvitz.'
'Who?'
'He's a gangster.'
'Really?'
'Really.' Ness couldn't stop the frown. He shook his head. 'He's the one they should call 'untouchable.' Come on. Forget it. Let's eat.'
Later, as they were finishing their meal, the violinist waiter finally came around to their table, but not to play the fiddle. He wasn't fiddling around at all, actually.
'This is from Mr. Horvitz,' the violinist said softly, handing Ness a note.
Ness took it but did not tip the man; that was Horvitz's job. The note read, 'A few moments of your time. In the parking lot. M.H.' Ness nodded to the violinist, who departed. He wadded up the note and tossed it in a small glass ashtray.
'Have some spumoni,' Ness told Gwen, smiling tightly and rising. 'And wait for me here.'
She reached out to him. 'Eliot…'
'Have some spumoni,' he repeated.
As he got his topcoat and left the restaurant, he noted that the gaudy young blonde was still at the table. She was smoking. She looked bored. He wanted to feel sorry for the child, but couldn't quite.
The parking lot, behind the three-story building, was small and secluded. There was no lighting at all, and the night was typically overcast and cold. Ness glanced around, looking for Horvitz, and heard the honk of a horn.
It led him to a black Lincoln, parked, its motor going. Behind the wheel sat a pockmarked thug in a chauffeur's uniform. The back door swung open and Horvitz's nasal voice called out, 'Please join me, Mr. Ness.'
Ness slid in beside the dapper little man. It was warm in the car. Horvitz had apparently instructed his chauffeur to keep the motor running while he and his bimbo ate.
Horvitz offered a slim, diamond-heavy hand. Ness thought about it-then, what the hell, shook it.
Horvitz had a pleasant smile. It wasn't particularly sincere, but it was pleasant. He sat with his arms folded, his head back, the gesture of a small man who wants to look down at you.
'Some of my business associates,' he said, 'are concerned about your little hobby.'
'My little hobby?'
'These raids. The gambling joints. And today, the policy bank. Really. They're annoying. Like bee stings.'
'Then you and your business associates better buy some heavy clothes. Because you're going to get stung again. And again.'
'You're certainly a determined young man.'
'Did you follow me to Antonio's? Or did the manager call you, or what?'
The smile widened momentarily. 'Does it matter? Perhaps the hand of fate brought us together.'
'What do you want, Horvitz? I don't like to talk to gangsters unless it's in a courtroom or a jailhouse.'
Horvitz, without unfolding his arms, gently patted the air with one jeweled hand. 'Take it easy, Mr. Ness. We heard about Chicago. We know where Al Capone is these days. We take you seriously.'
'That's wise.'
'We know you have a job to do. My people can help you do it.'
'Help me?'
'Sure. We can point you toward some of our competitors. We can keep some of what we do outside the city limits-the larger casinos, say-even outside the county, if you insist. And more and more of our business interests are legitimate now. I know that frustrates you, but I would think a member of a Republican administration would appreciate good old-fashioned American free enterprise.'
'I do, unless you define free enterprise as stealing.'
Horvitz shook his head gently no. 'I'm interested only in business, Mr. Ness. But you need to be reasonable. There will always be some gambling in a city like Cleveland, and the numbers? You're not going to get popular taking that away from people.'
'Who says I want to be popular?'
Horvitz laughed. 'Please. I just ate. Don't make me bust a gut. You're an ambitious man. I like that. We can make you look good. You can make some flashy arrests, no problem. We might even be able to arrange to make the local court system more sympathetic to some of those arrests. You might actually get a conviction now and then that didn't result in a suspended sentence.'
'Imagine that.'
'You might even find certain members of the city council more disposed toward passing your budget next month.'
'Do tell.'
'Mind-boggling, isn't it? But anything is possible in a world where reasonable men, men of business, cooperate.'
'No kidding.'
'Will you cooperate, Mr. Ness?'
