Chandler: Circle City Shakedown

By Bill Craig

Phillip Chandler used to be Chicago cop, but after a run in with corrupt officials left him jobless and disgusted, he moved south to Indianapolis, Indiana, and opened up shop as a private eye. While he has an office in a seedy part of Downtown Indy, Chandler spends a good deal of his time between Babes and The Slippery Noodle. So it comes as no surprise when a stripper working under the name of Mary Blue showed up wanting Chandler to locate her friend, Rita Clark (AKA “Red Rita”) who vanished after working a “party” in Carmel a couple of nights before. Chandler agrees to look into it, and soon discovers that corruption is everywhere and innocence lost is never again found....

• Language: English
• Publisher: AbsolutelyAmazingEbooks.com
• Release date: Apr 12, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311051448

Bill Craig

Bill Craig taught himself to read at age four and began writing his own stories at age six. He published his first novel at age 40 and says it only took him 34 years to become an overnight success! He has been publishing steadily ever since that first book Valley of Death and now has 27 books in print or ebook. Bill is the proud father of four children ranging in age from 38 to almost 8. He has 7 grandchildren and 1 great grandchild. Mr. Craig has worked a wide variety of jobs over the years from private security and corrections work to being a grill cook and dishwasher. He has been a news reporter, done factory work and even a stint as a railroad clerk. He currently does customer service work to support his writing addiction. His ultimate goal in life is to break the record held by pulp author and creator of The Shadow, Walter B. Gibson, for writing the most works in a single year!

Book preview

Chapter One

Chandler looked up when the petite blonde walked up to the booth he usually occupied while at The Slippery Noodle Inn. She wore tight blue mini-dress that fastened behind her neck and barely covered her crotch, matching blue heels added four inches to her height. Her hair was long, flowing and carefully cut to go midway down what he guessed was her bare back. Her skin was nicely bronzed from a tanning salon and she looked like either a million bucks or trouble, he couldn’t decide which.

He knew from looking in the mirror what she would see. A tall well-built guy with a roguishly good-looking face with cold blue eyes, a long aquiline nose and a nice mouth. A perpetual five-o’clock shadow covered his cheeks and chin. He was dressed in black from his tee-shirt and jeans to the steel toed bikers boots and the black leather jacket that covered a Colt Government Model .45 hanging in his shoulder holster. A half-consumed mug of beer sat on the table in front of him. Chandler motioned for her to join him.

Hansen told me I might find you here, she said.

I’ll have to tell him thanks. Miss? he let the question hang in the air, knowing the story would come out in its own time.

Mary, Mary Blue, she replied.

Stage name? Chandler asked.

Yeah, Mary Norman in real life.

What can I do for you, Mary Blue? Chandler took a sip of his beer.

I want to hire you to find someone, a friend of mine that has disappeared, Mary said.

When did she disappear?

We went up to Carmel on Friday night to work a private party. Some of us girls do, Mary said.

And? Chandler asked her.

We got separated at the party. She went off with some guy named Larry. Nobody saw her after that. I made it home, and she didn’t. I went back the next day, but they turned me away at the door. Swore they never heard of me or Rita and that I had better forget about ever having been there, Mary said.

You need a smoke? Chandler asked. Her story had the ring of truth to it. He had heard of similar things happening in the high-rent districts of Chicago when he had worked up there as a United States Marshal.

I could use one, Mary nodded.

Let’s step outside then, Chandler told her. While he didn’t smoke himself, he had a certain sympathy for those who did and was not a fan of the city’s smoking ban. He looked over at Joey, the bartender. Stepping outside, Chandler said.

Chandler leaned against the brick wall as Mary lit her cigarette. It was early summer and the nighttime temp was still in the mid-seventies. What is your friend’s name? Chandler asked gently.

Rita Clark. Her working name is Red Rita, ‘cause she has red hair. All over, Mary added, watching him through the smoke.

You two were close then? Chandler asked.

Close enough. Lovers sometimes, when things got too nasty for either of us to put up with men pawing at us, Mary shrugged.

That happens a lot?

More than you know. You know how it is in the clubs. Guys figure they tip you enough, it don’t matter how free they get with their hands. Cops are the worst, she shook her head.

I’ve heard that, Chandler nodded, remembering a time in Chicago when he had busted a Chicago officer’s arm for doing just that. Guy was lucky he hadn’t killed him. One of the many reasons he was out of Chicago and working as a private dick in Indy.

They think, they got a badge and it gives them the right to do more than look, Mary shook her head.

It doesn’t, Chandler told her.

Damn straight it don’t, Mary said, brushing at her eyes.

I’ll look into it. You got a picture of your friend? he asked.

I do, Mary told him, smiling for the first time. She dug in her purse and pulled out a small wallet. She thumbed through it pulled out a single 4x6 inch print that showed a vivacious red head with green eyes smiling at the camera. She was wearing a green halter that left her shoulders bare. A gold chain hung around her neck. Chandler took the picture.

Got an address for the place up in Carmel? he asked.

I do, Mary said. She gave it to him. I have $500.00 to offer as a retainer.

That’ll buy a week of my time.

I figured. If you need more, I’m good for it, Mary said.

I know. He handed her his cell phone. Punch in your number so I can reach you, Chandler said. Mary did so. When she was done, Chandler hit save and added her name to his contacts.

Can you really find her, Chandler? Mary looked at him.

I can try, Chandler told her honestly. One more thing, you said she hooked up with a guy named Larry. What did he look like?

Just another successful stiff in a suit. About six feet tall, brown hair going gray at the temples. He had a bushy mustache. But he reeked of power, and a lot of the people there seemed to defer to him, ya know? Mary replied.

Come back inside and I’ll write you a receipt. You come back tomorrow night and I’ll have a contract for you to sign, makes everything confidential should cops get into it at any point.

Thanks, Chandler, Mary said gratefully as she ground out her cigarette on the brick wall.

Call me Phillip, Chandler grinned.

No, Chandler suits you better. We need to hurry though. I go on at The Red Garter in half an hour, Mary shrugged as Chandler held the door for her and then followed her back inside. Five minutes later she was gone and Phillip Chandler took another sip of his beer. It was warm and flat, but that was okay. He had a new case, and come morning he was going to see what he could find out about the mansion in Carmel and the missing stripper.

Chapter Two

Mary was tired when her final set ended at the Red Garter. She worked hard for the tips she made, and she made sure that the patrons knew how much she appreciated it.

You hear anything from Rita yet? Joe asked. He lined up the girls for the show, and with Rita missing he had been forced to bring in some amateur talent to fill her spot.

Not a word Joe. That ain’t like her, Mary shook her head as she pulled on a pair of jeans and tugged them up over her hips.

She ain’t back soon, I gotta let her go. Boss ain’t happy about her missing work, Joe shrugged. Mary zipped the jeans and buttoned them around the waist. She pulled on a pale blue tee shirt over her breasts and let it hang outside her pants as she slipped her feet into canvas shoes. A welcome break from the heels she had been wearing earlier when she had gone to hire Chandler. The bar was closed for the night and all the girls were getting ready to split.

Joe, I think something bad might have happened to her at that party last weekend, Mary said.

Probably be a good idea to forget about that, Joe told her, sounding nervous for the first time.

Why? Mary asked, wondering.

That place, those parties, those are powerful men. You don’t want to be fucking around with them, Joe shook his head.

Then why did you send us?

Because I thought you were smart enough to keep your mouth shut. You and Rita are discreet, you know?

But if something happened to Rita there…

Then it would be a pretty good idea to just forget about her, Joe said with an edge of finality in his voice. Mary looked at him.

You goddamn gay son of a bitch! What the fuck did you get us into?

Drop it, Mary. Otherwise you could get hurt, Joe turned and walked out of the dressing room. Mary watched him go, not believing what he had just told her. Mary fumbled out her cigarettes and got one lit with shaking hands. Fuck the goddamn smoking ban. She headed for the door, but as she did, she got out her cell phone and dialed Chandler’s number. It went to voicemail. Shit!

Chandler, this is Mary Blue. I was just given a warning, told to forget about Rita. I’m scared. Call me when you get this, she broke the connection. The street seemed darker somehow, despite the lights as she headed for the parking garage where she kept her car while she worked.

It was underground and that made it seem worse for some reason. The car was an old Chevy Impala, with worn gold paint and a reliable engine. It also had electronic locks, something she was suddenly thankful for tonight, because she made it a point to lock it whenever she got out. Mary froze when she saw the two men leaning against her car, smoking. As soon as they saw her, they started forward…

Chapter Three

Patrolman Gus Gillman yawned as he pulled into the underground parking garage not far from Union Station. It had been a pretty quiet night, but the Sarge wanted them to patrol it every night. There had been a few complaints of vandalism, mainly gang-banger wannabes spray-painting tags on city property. Still, it didn’t hurt to run irregular patrols through to keep the kids honest. He was on the second underground level when he spotted something on the floor. It looked like a pile of rags at first. It was only when he turned his spotlight on that he realized it was a body. Gillman reached for the radio and called it in before he ever stepped out of the car.

Lots of shadows in the parking garage, and the rookie patrolman was none too comfortable walking into the situation. He pulled his Glock .40 as he approached what he could now see was definitely a body. By the hair, it appeared to be a woman. There was blood puddled around her. He got back on the radio and called for a bus to come and pick her up.

It was obvious that the woman had been badly beaten. Even a rookie like Gillman could tell that. There was a purse not far from the body. Gillman knelt down and looked in it. There was a driver’s license in the name of Mary Norman. He thought it might be the same woman but her face was too swollen and bruised to tell. Dispatch called back, said he was to wait for the detectives. Gillman breathed a sigh of relief. Thirty days on the job, this was the last damn thing he needed.

Chapter Four

Alejandro Cruz and Nick Colletti were the detectives who arrived just ahead of the ambulance. Cruz grabbed Gillman by the jacket and dragged him away from the badly battered victim as the ambulance rolled in. The three EMTs swarmed over the girl, checking her vitals and prepping her for a ride to the hospital. Most likely Methodist since it was the closest.

What do you know? Cruz asked. He was tall and dark with Hispanic good looks and high cheekbones under closely ringed curls of dark hair that hugged his scalp.

I was doing a routine check, spotted the body. There was no one around. Her purse had a driver’s license identifying her as Mary Norman. I think she used to be a good looking woman, Gillman shrugged.

Anything else? Cruz asked.

"Not that I saw. I think she had been there awhile, based on