of those 'wide-open' places?'
'Sure, only by the time we get there, they'll be puttin' on a church social in the joint.'
'Why don't you give me a try.'
Vehovic thought about that. He said, 'You got that guy Savage working for ya, don't ya?'
'Yes I do.'
Vehovic frowned. 'He's down on the unions.'
'I'm keeping an eye on him.'
'You better not be down on the unions, or you'll have an enemy in me.'
'I don't think we're going to be enemies, Councilman.'
'He tossed me in the jug, once't.'
'Pardon?'
'Your pal Savage. Tossed me in the jug, once't.'
'Did you deserve it?'
'Hell, no! I was just tearing down this fence that was keeping the residents of my ward from usin' White City Beach.'
'Wasn't that fence the property of Bratenahl Village?'
He lifted the thumb and fingers of one hand to his nose as if something stank, and it wasn't sardines. 'Everybody agreed that fence oughta come down. He's a wise-guy, that Savage.'
'Oh?'
'Yeah, he stood there watching me tear down the fence, and when I asked him why he hadn't arrested me yet, said, 'I figure you need to work off some of that extra weight, Tony.' '
Ness stifled a laugh and said, 'Look. Why don't you meet me at my office in an hour?'
Vehovic checked his pocket watch. 'Yeah, why in hell don't I? I took a half a day off anyways. Bein' the president of the local union has its advantages.'
'I bet it does.'
He pointed a stubby finger at Ness. 'Just you and me. Nobody else. Including that fella Flynt of yours.'
'Fine.'
Vehovic nodded and trundled off like a small tank.
Ness shook his head and went to the showers. Later he joined the natty John Flynt for lunch at the Bronze Room in the Cleveland Hotel.
'Vehovic's a nut,' Flynt said, matter-of-factly, dipping a spoon into French onion soup. The remark seemed strange, coming from this proper lawyer, with his tiny waxed mustache and formal bearing. He looked like a British colonel out of a Kipling story about India.
'He's his own man,' Ness said. 'I don't think he's crazy. He didn't go to Harvard, but he's not stupid, either.'
Flynt pursed his lips in a frown. The mustache twitched. 'He's a pest. Why's he such a social reformer? You know as well as anyone that he was in the speakeasy business.'
'He wasn't. His father was, as I understand. That was before I came to Cleveland, long before.'
'Well, he was vocally against Prohibition.'
'You seem to be having a martini with lunch yourself.'
Flynt bristled. 'I just don't think he's sincere. I figure he's against vice in his ward because he wants to move one bunch of crooks out and another group in. His bootlegger cronies from the old days.'
'Do you have anything to back that up? Or is that opinion, or instinct, or what?'
'It's an informed opinion. Let's let it go at that. But I'll tell you this: lining up with him in his feud with Councilman Fink would cause us nothing but grief.'
'Why's that?'
'I know you don't like to talk politics…'
'Particularly not when I'm eating. But go ahead.'
'Must I remind you that Fink carries more weight than any other single councilman? That he's a Republican, and our Independent mayor needs to have the regular party types on his side? Fink was a Davis man in the primaries, you know, but he got out the vote in his ward for Burton in the final election.'
'You're thinking of the budget hearings.'
'And the upcoming vote. Fink is helping decide your fate right now. And he'll carry a lot of weight with the voters in his ward if a bond issue has to get itself floated, to get your budget met. Do you really want to cause him trouble and embarrassment right now by going after his brother's interests?'
Ness smiled. 'And when should I go after his brother?'
'If I were in your shoes, never. There are enough crooks to go around in Cleveland. Why not pursue some who don't have brothers on the city council?'
'Has Vehovic ever talked to you about this?'
Flynt shrugged. 'Several times. He came around to see you, and I deflected him.'
'Deflected him?'
'That's part of my job, isn't it? To keep you from getting your time wasted by the lunatic fringe?'
Flynt was a more than competent assistant, but there were times when Ness would have liked to be well and truly rid of him; this was one of those times. But the mayor had made it clear that Flynt was necessary political baggage.
Nonetheless, Ness' voice was tight with barely concealed anger as he said, 'I don't think any member of the city council, particularly one requesting that I crack down on vice, qualifies as a part of the lunatic fringe.'
'Perhaps I misjudged. But I called it as I saw it.'
After lunch Ness sent Flynt on an errand to Cullitan's office in the Criminal Courts Building, and when he met with Vehovic at City Hall, the safety director and the Thirty-second Ward councilman were alone.
They sat at the conference table in Ness' office.
'I hear some good things about you,' Vehovic admitted, with apparent reluctance. 'This cemetery racket that the grand jury's looking into, they say you broke that wide open.'
'I didn't have much to do with that. A reporter friend of mine did most of the work.'
Ness did have some people on the case, looking into the possible death-by-arson of the two old men in the Joanna Home. Two McGrath Agency investigators Heller had chosen were showing the drawing of the phony G-man around, but so far had had no luck. Ness was beginning to think the son of a bitch had bolted town by now, but he still had hopes of collaring him. He'd convinced Wild not to air the arson suspicions or publish the drawing, but as the grand jury investigation drew to a close in the weeks ahead, all that would come out.
In the meantime, the bulldog face in the cartoonist's sketch haunted Ness. Some distant memory was stirring, but only stirring.
'That was my people,' Vehovic said, with some passion. 'Not just in my ward-those bums hit my ward, too, you know-but I mean Slavs, like me. Poor ignorant immigrants that believe in this country and got fleeced for it. If you helped break that racket open, my hat's off to you.'
His hat was off actually; the straw boater sat on the table between them, next to an ashtray where the councilman's latest foul-smelling cigar smoldered.
'The city should set an example,' Vehovic continued, shaking a fist, letting Ness know that all compliments had ended. 'If you aren't ready to do it, I'll do it myself. I'll take a baseball bat and show you how to really raid a bookie joint.'
'You have any particular bookie joint in mind?'
'Sure. The biggest one in town.'
Publicity. Ness could smell it. This wasn't as good as nabbing the 'outside chief,' but it would carry some weight. Yes it would…
Vehovic was saying, 'The joint's on the top floor of the Paradise Hotel on West Twenty-fifth. There's a greasy-spoon saloon downstairs called the Club Cafe.'
'That isn't even in your ward.'
'I'm interested in cleaning up the whole goddamn town! Aren't you? Besides, that's Tommy Fink's place. Not his only one, but the biggest.'
'Give me the exact address.'
