that?”
“No.”
“You think you could keep that unpleasantness to yourself?”
“Yes.”
“That thing, that was nothing. Drury was like that—he saw anybody remotely Outfit, he went off on them. You know that.”
“I know that.”
“He rousted Guzik, Fischetti, even Accardo, tons of times.”
“I know.”
Both eyebrows raised. “You don’t think I had anything to do with what happened to him, do you now?”
I chose my words carefully. “…I think it was Outfit. I don’t make it as anything to do with you, Sam.”
He was studying me like a scientist studies a slide under a microscope. “And why is that your opinion?”
“Because you’re smart, Sam. You have a temper—you’ve been known to lose your head, if you get pissed off… no offense.”
“None taken.”
“But this was stupid. This is bringing heat, these killings. St. Valentine’s Day Massacre type heat. Jake Lingle type heat.”
He was nodding.
I continued: “The Crime Committee hearings are getting moved to next week, you know. Kefauver is tossing fucking subpoenas over this city like advertising leaflets out of a plane.”
“You’re tellin’ me. You know, he’s going after our wives next, the prick.”
I wondered where he heard that.
Shifting in my hard seat, I said, “I figure this is like when Dutch Schultz wanted to hit Dewey, and the rest of the New York boys said no fuckin’ way. You don’t hit a cop; you don’t bump off a public figure.”
Giancana’s expression was blandly friendly; but he was still studying me. “You’re not just sayin’ this, Heller. This is how you see it.”
“Sam, this is how I see it. I’m not just trying to talk my way out of a tight spot.”
“This ain’t a tight spot.” He nodded toward his hands, still spread on the table. “It’s a public place, Heller. That’s why I arranged to meet you somewheres like this. Specifically, this joint ’cause Bas was the lawyer for the management…and, after you sort through all the holding companies, I’m the management.”
All of this was news to me. “Bas was your attorney?”
“Only where certain businesses, like this one, was concerned. And Drury had no knowledge of that. don’t get thinking Bas was dirty, ’cause he wasn’t—he was just a lawyer with various clients…like a private eye can have various clients.”
“Right. Would I be overstepping if I suggested you might have been helping Bas in his efforts to unseat Tubbo?”
He twitched a grimace. “I’d rather not say. Tubbo has been a friend to Outfit interests for a lot of years—one- stop shopping, a fixer who can help with both the cops and the State’s Attorney’s office. But a guy that’s been around as long as Tubbo can get…too powerful. Too full of himself.”
For a guy who’d “rather not say,” Sam had said a hell of a lot.
I sat forward. “Was Tubbo involved in the Drury hit? The Bas hit?”
“Heller, I don’t know the answer to that question. But I know you—and know how you can go off on these… little rampages, now and then. You wouldn’t talk to the Kefauver Committee, but you might decide to settle some scores in your own way. You’ve done it before.”
I just shrugged.
He leaned forward, and lifted his right hand off the table, to gesture. “Now…there’s something you need to know, Heller: neither of these hits was…what’s the word? Approved—authorized. Just the opposite—Charley Fischetti asked to have this done, and was told not to. In no uncertain terms.”
“But he did it anyway.”
Giancana leaned back, raised another eyebrow. “Charley claims not—swears up and down, stack of Bibles, mother’s grave. This was a meeting at the highest level, understand—Ricca, Accardo, Guzik….”
“Do they believe him?”
“Fuck no. But Charley hasn’t been challenged over this. He’s still a powerful guy, Heller—Al’s cousin, remember. And a smart guy—knows the business side. Understands the politics. Which is why you’d think he’d know better….”
“So the boys are letting this slide?”
He shook his head, folded his arms. “Don’t think there isn’t a lot of displeasure. Don’t think guys like Ricca and Big Tuna like having to pack their bags in the middle of the night and beat ass out of town, like common punk crooks.”
The back of my neck was starting to tingle. “You’re not saying…. You’re not giving me permission to….”
Tiny shrug. “I’m not saying anything. I might be implying that if you wanted to do something, personal, about
