Then Lang whispered, 'No kidding?'
'No kidding. He went down the day after Cermak got shot. Probably a show of support for the people who work for him, down Miami way. Sort of a busman's holiday, while he healed up from your police-work.'
Lang thought about that and swallowed; behind the Coke-bottle lenses, Miller seemed to be putting two plus two together, too.
Then, forgetting to be nice, Lang sneered and said, 'What makes you so well-informed?'
'Ever hear of a guy named Ness?' I said.
They thought about that awhile, too, as up at the bench Nitti's lawyer- a well-dressed Italian shorter than his client- was filing a motion for a continuance.
'I want to question the three officers in the case,' the attorney said. 'I just got into this case last Friday, and need time to prepare thoroughly.'
The judge asked Nitti to step forward and approach the bench, and asked him to plead.
'Not guilty,' Nitti said. 'And I want a jury trial.'
Lang was shifting nervously in his seat.
Nitti's attorney asked for a ruling on the continuance, and, despite the prosecutor's demand for an immediate trial, the case was held over till April 6.
I had the end seat, and got up and started to leave.
Lang stopped me in the aisle, smiled. 'I guess I'll be seeing you in April.'
Miller was standing behind him like a fat shadow.
'I guess so,' I said.
Then, in a stage whisper, Lang said, 'A deal's a deal, Heller.'
I smiled at him. 'That deal's with a dead man. You're on your own, jackass.'
Lang sputtered. 'Listen, Heller, Cermak'
'Is dead. See you in court.'
And I left. Behind me. Lang and Miller huddled like a football team that wondered where the hell their quarterback went to.
I wasn't sure yet whether I was just giving them a bad time, or if I really meant something by all that; but the prosecutor, a feisty little guy who didn't dress as good as Nitti's lawyer, was waiting for me out in the hall.
'Got a minute, Heller?' he asked.
'I got to get back to my office.'
'I just want to say one thing: You didn't give testimony at the inquest. And you weren't called at the grand jury hearing.'
'That's two things.'
'No it isn't.' he said. 'It's one thing: you haven't perjured yourself yet.' Like any good trial lawyer, he knew when to pause dramatically; he paused dramatically, and said, 'Now. Got a minute?'
We went to his office.
It was Thursday, April 6, and I was sitting in a speakeasy with Eliot Ness.
'I don't usually have a beer for breakfast,' Eliot was saying, raising the mug to his wry smile.
It was Barney's speak, of course, and it was closed. We were the only ones in the joint, except for Barney himself, who was sitting in the booth next to me and across from Eliot, saying, 'Might be your last chance to break the law this way, Mr. Ness.'
Despite the fact they were both my friends, Barney and Eliot barely knew each other; and on the few occasions I did get them together, they insisted on calling each other 'mister.' I tried to stop 'em, but it didn't do any good: they respected each other, and I just couldn't seem to talk 'em out of it.
'So it's all over, tonight at midnight,' I said.
Eliot shrugged. 'It's been over for months. But, technically, just because beer's legal again doesn't mean the dry agents'll dry up, not right away anyway.' He gestured over toward Barney's bar, behind which bottles lined the mirror. 'That stuffs still a crime, you know.'
Barney said, 'I just haven't crated that up, yet. We're only serving setups, till Repeal comes in a hundred percent.'
'It's only in three point two percent, at the moment,' Eliot said. 'Can I have another one of these?'
'Sure. HI get it…'
'I can get it. It'll be a change of pace, drawing a beer without using an ax.'
Eliot went over behind the bar and got himself a beer.
'No kidding, Barney,' I said, 'you're really packing the hard stuff up and sticking with beer and setups?'
He nodded. 'Winch and Pian have been on my case about a nice respectable Jewish contender like me running a speakeasy, so now that I can open up legal, I'm gonna. You'll be able to buy your rum here aboveboard and over- the-counter, 'fore too long. Roosevelt'll come through for us, wait and see.'
Eliot was back; sat down. Sipped his beer and said to Barney, 'When are they going to give you your shot at
