The Sandie Shaw Mysteries, Springtime in Chicago: Sandie Shaw, #4

By R T Green

A big favour for a stranger turns into a shocking discovery. Fate has played an unexpected hand, and it's down to Sandie and the team to make sure a murder that appears to be an accident leads to more than one satisfying conclusion. Can they achieve the impossible?

Daphne persuades the team to work for free, and help out someone who has hit hard and tragic times. Little do they realise their act of compassion will lead to a startling discovery. Investigating an accident that might not have been, they spot a face from their recent past.

Is destiny on their side? Could solving an injustice lead to a resolution much nearer to home? It's nothing but a thin thread of possibility, but they have to grasp it with both hands, and hope it holds their weight.

'Springtime in Chicago', is the fourth book in the Sandie Shaw Mysteries, set in 1920's Chicago.

Check out Sandie, Daisy and everything else we do on the rtgreen website.

And enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wise Owl
• Release date: Jul 16, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201882419

R T Green

The RTG mission in life is simple... to not be like everyone else! ‘Going Green’ has taken on a new meaning, in the book world at least. Whilst we applaud the original meaning (ebooks are a perfect way to promote that) we also try to present a different angle to it. The tendency these days is that if you don’t look and read like everyone else, you don’t sell books. Maybe there’s some truth in that, but we simply don’t do it. The RTG books have been described as a ‘breath of fresh literary air’, and, by those discovering us for the first time, ‘unexpectedly good’. We know many readers prefer the same-old same old, and that’s fine. It’s just not what you get from the RTG stable. Those who know about such things said it would take five years to become a proficient author... I scoffed at that. They were wise. It took six. It’s one reason why even today we remodel existing books, and will always do so. Right from the early years the stories were always good, but were put into words less well than they could have been! These days we have several series and a few standalones, the hit Daisy series most popular amongst them. In everything we do, the same provisos apply – Never the same book twice. If we can’t think up a good story, it doesn’t get written. The RTG brand is about exciting and twisty plots, a fast pace which doesn’t waste words, and endearing (sometimes slightly crazy) characters. We can never please everyone, but it works for us, and, it seems, for those who appreciate our work. Enjoy! Richard, Ann and the RTG crew

Book preview

Introduction

1920’S CHICAGO. WHAT CAME to be known as the ‘roaring twenties’. For private investigator Sandie Shaw, ‘roaring’ was hardly the flattering kind of description she would ever give it.

Born and raised in the city, she despairs at everything it has become. In her view, Chicago typifies the false decadence gripping America. Only just recovering from the lawlessness of the days of the Wild West, her city and the rest of the country then entered the World War for a brief time, and when that was over, the whole nation seemed to lose all sense of reason.

People went crazy. Prohibition raised its ugly head, and the mobsters and the flappers took over Chicago. Her beloved city had fallen at the mercy of those who believed they were above the law... once again.

In truth, Chicago had long held the reputation of being the most lawless place in America. Prohibition, and corrupt governance, had handed a free meal ticket to the gangsters. It didn’t sit well with Sandie.

Taking over the one-man agency when her father died, and making it a one-woman operation, she knew from the off that in a male-dominated environment she had to be tough, and witty, to succeed.

And that keeping well away from anyone with a machine gun was a big part of staying alive.

She managed it, for eight years refusing to be drawn into anything mob-related. But then one day someone came to call, and without Sandie even realizing what she was getting into, suddenly everything changed, and it wasn’t a one-woman operation anymore.

Several months later, a chance meeting sparks a case dripping with unjust and horrific consequences. What started as an act of compassion rapidly becomes a fight against time to rid the city of a new and terrifying menace.

It’s not long until things get complicated by an unexpected development, and the shocking discovery of a face from the past!

Enjoy!

Richard, Ann, and the crew

Springtime in Chicago

An Eye for an Eye

THE MAN IN THE LONG gray coat and Fedora hat hesitated a little as he entered the dark alley. Then he tipped the brim of his hat a little lower, and kept his head down as he strode quickly through the rows of wooden waste bins.

In just over a minute he was through the darkness, and had reached the main street. It was brighter lit, and he knew then he was much less likely to be apprehended. Normally he avoided dark alleys, but on that occasion it was a short cut to home that saved a lot of walking time.

A lot of nervous walking time, when the risk of getting grabbed was becoming a permanent feature in his life.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief. The street he was now walking along wasn’t exactly brimming with streetlights, but there were enough to deter anyone from doing something they’d prefer not to be seen doing. In the distance he could see the scruffy tenement block where his room was located. Another two minutes, and he could relax with an illegal whisky, in the knowledge no one knew where he was lying low.

He’d left Chicago’s German quarter behind a few minutes ago. Taking a room somewhere there would have been too much of a risk, given his Aryan features. It was the first place anyone who wanted to find him would start looking.

The dingy room in the overcrowded tenement in the overcrowded Mexican Quarter was further down the pecking order than he was used to, but it was a necessity. Keeping off the grid was far easier if there was only one room to call home. If that room was squeezed in with hundreds of others, so much the better.

It would not be for long. Hopefully. The secret meeting in the back room of a tiny café a short while ago could well change his fortunes. Something had to.

Since he’d dodged a bullet by the tiniest of margins a few months ago, life had hardly been rosy. The colleagues he’d sheltered behind in his climb up the ladder had either been shot or had vamoosed, valuing their freedom and their life more than anything else. The few friends he’d made soon cleared off too, once they realized he’d got more than one target on his back.

He might as well have been a leper. It began to feel like people would rather risk a deadly virus than associate with him. After the near miss with the bullet he’d known lying low was the only option. At first he didn’t want to scoot from Chicago... for many years it had been the only home he’d known, and it was where all his friends and associates were.

Were being the operative word.

His associates were still in Chicago, staying where their bread was buttered. They just weren’t his friends anymore.

Almost getting killed made him think about his future, a little more seriously than he’d done before. His chosen career had been a dangerous way to exist, inhabiting the gray valley between two mountains. But it was lucrative... and temptingly so. Once he’d learned the kind of stuff each mountain would pay handsomely for, playing one off against the other had come naturally.

Until he’d bitten off more than he could chew. Brave and confident enough to make his valley a happy one, he’d made a shocking and lucrative discovery, and promised both mountains they would have something well worth having. Then complications raised their pretty heads... mostly in the form of dames with other agendas.

His craggy face broke into a humorless, ironic smile as he climbed the stairs to his room. He’d always held the opinion dames were nothing more than an annoying nuisance, until the day he was forced to discover differently. One dame he’d been able to eliminate, but the others had almost eliminated him.

It was a wake-up call from a source he’d previously dismissed. Goddamn feminine equality had ended up forcing him to live in a one-room dump, and lie low until the fallout subsided.

That was still going to take some time.

Neither of the mountains got what they wanted, despite paying him retainers. It was perfectly understandable they’d decided to paint great big targets on his back. There was a third target too. The dame whose husband he’d killed was pretty handy with a paintbrush as well, and it was obvious she’d daubed the biggest target of all on his back.

It didn’t really change his future that much. It was obvious none of his pursuers were going to rest until, in their view, he’d paid for his sins.

He had a little cash, hidden under his mattress. It had been dwindling, with no one currently willing to pay him anything for his services, given his choice of work, and the fact he had no friends left anyway. The meeting an hour ago was a lifeline. It had come out of the blue, and just in time. Deciding a week ago his Chicago future had dissolved in front of his eyes, there was little choice but to find pastures new. In his current situation that wasn’t easy.

There was nowhere near enough cash left under the mattress to start again. Without a fresh injection, a new life in a new state would end badly. The Mexicans he’d met an hour ago would give him that injection, in return for his help in setting up a new and lucrative investment for them, using the connections he’d told them he still had.

He’d asked for a lump-sum once it was up and running, and then they could get on with it without him. He’d finally had enough of the town he’d come of age in.

Once he’d got his payoff, Chicago and he would part company forever.

He closed the tatty door behind him, leant back against it, and threw relieved eyes to the dirty ceiling. Not only had one of his rare trips outside passed without incident, but he’d finally negotiated the means to be able to clear off. One month of setting everything up, and then he could wave goodbye to Chicago.

Miami sounded appealing.

Still cautious, he didn’t switch on the light straightaway. First he closed the threadbare curtains, and only then did he flick on the lamp next to the whisky bottle on the small table nestling against the wall. He poured himself a triple-sized shot, and sank it gratefully. He needed it to steady the nerves, but it also served as a celebration drink.

He still hadn’t turned to face the room, but then, as the liquor instantly warmed his gullet, something made him look around. He gasped, and almost dropped the glass.

Someone was sitting in the armchair that had seen a lot of better days. A machine gun rested nonchalantly on his lap, but the finger wrapped around the trigger wasn’t nonchalant at all.

The guy smiled sweetly at the intentional shock his appearance and his accessories had thumped into the man in the long gray coat and Fedora hat.

‘Got one of those for me, Mickey?’ he said.

Michael Himmelman recovered his composure, shutting the mouth that had gaped open, perhaps a little quicker than most would have done in the circumstances.

Calmly he poured another glass, and handed it to his visitor. ‘I might have guessed you wouldn’t knock the door like normal people, Jack.’

‘Come off it, Mickey. That’s what anyone else would have done. Then you would’ve scooted out the window.’

‘I’m on the fourth floor. Fire escapes don’t exist in this part of town.’

Machine Gun took a swig of the whisky. ‘Sure thing. Didn’t think of that.’

Mickey shook his head, knowing Jack McGurn surely did, but had always preferred to pleasantly surprise people in more dramatic ways. ‘How did you find me, anyway? I didn’t think anyone knew this place existed.’

‘Yeah, see... the Organization, they got a specialist department, dedicated to finding people who don’t want to be found.’

‘They deserve a gold medal then.’

‘Nah. Took them four months? That’s way too long. But they got there in the end.’

He held out the glass for a refill. Mickey obliged. ‘So I take it my number is up?’

‘Sure it is. But not yet.’

Mickey raised his eyes. ‘So you want a few drinks first, reminiscing about old times?’

‘Give me a break. A few snorts maybe, but... well, my boss wants a word.’

‘Um... why?’

‘That ain’t for me to say.’ He sank the second glass, and then nodded to the bottle. Wondering what his visitor had in store, Mickey refilled McGurn’s glass once again, trying to keep his hand as steady as he could.

‘You my taxi driver then?’

‘Sure thing. Drink up Mickey, we gotta go.’

‘The Lexington Hotel? Bit public for a gangland execution, is it not?’

Jack McGurn grinned ominously as he pulled the Cadillac up at the entrance on South Michigan Street. ‘Not as public as it used to be. My boss has just bought it. Some of it is gonna be our safe house, once it’s converted. Not so much room for other guests then.’

Mickey shook his head. Between them, the two mountains blocking the light to his valley seemed to be getting ever more established, and were beginning to dominate the Chicago landscape in the process. He followed McGurn to the elevator, realizing that very soon he would have no valley at all, happy or otherwise.

His taxi driver made no attempt to hide the machine gun in his hand. There was no need... with his boss calling the shots at the Lexington, his particular style of accessorizing was something the hotel staff that still remained were getting used to.

The elevator pinged at the second floor, and the two men stepped out into a bustle of activity. It looked like the decorators were in, and they weren’t hanging about. Trades people were everywhere, knocking down walls, and installing some kind of security screens at the windows. At first it seemed like the whole floor had been turned into one big room, but then McGurn led them towards a door in one of the walls still standing, and gently persuaded Mickey into an office that was an oasis of calm amidst the chaos surrounding it.

The boss had made sure at least one part of the second floor had already been converted to his tastes. Simple but elegant Italian styling gave the office an opulent feel, and the desk sitting on the patterned rug in the centre of the space was easily big enough for four people to work without nudging elbows.

Only one person was sitting behind it though.

He smiled sweetly, and totally falsely, as his guest entered the room, pulled the Panama cigar from his thick lips, and waved a hand to indicate Mickey to take a seat.

‘You took some finding, Mickey. Makes me think you didn’t want to be found.’

‘I didn’t,’ Mickey answered honestly.

‘So that gets me to wondering why. Kinda baffles me as to the reason you’s still in Illinois too.’

‘Purely financial, Al.’

Capone sucked a big draw on the Panama. ‘Geez, and there’s me paying you handsomely for goods that weren’t ever delivered.’

‘All due respect, but it was only a retainer.’

The false smile on the scarred face disappeared. ‘Down-payment or not, you still disappeared without making the promised delivery.’

Mickey could feel the fake bravado withering. He squirmed uncomfortably, knowing there was very likely only one way he was going to leave the office. ‘Things got complicated, Al. And we all know what happens to people who fail the boss. Do you blame me for disappearing?’

Capone stood, and walked over to the window, shaking his head. ‘Sure they got complicated. Thanks to three stupid dames, much as I hate to admit it.’

‘One of them got what was coming to her.’

Capone spun round, pointing his cigar at Mickey in his anger. ‘And because of you, we were backed into a corner by the other two, and had to agree to a cessation of hostilities.’

‘That wasn’t my fault, Al.’

His face turned red. ‘Wasn’t your fault? You failed to find the ledger, so those dames used it as their bargaining chip. And I had to tell lies too, pretending it was all about a worthless necklace.’

Mickey chuckled, even though he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. ‘Tell lies? You complaining about something that’s second nature to you, Al?’

The big man thumped the desktop, right in front of Mickey. McGurn and another hood in the room raised their weapons a little. Mickey swallowed hard, knowing he’d stepped over the line. He also knew it didn’t really matter what he did or said. He wouldn’t get the chance to ever step over a line again.

Capone put his face right up to the German’s. ‘Just remember who holds all the cards, Mickey. Your life is hanging by a very thin thread right now, and so is my patience. They could both vanish at any moment.’

Mickey shook his head. He was determined that even the likes of the red, snarling face of the most powerful man in Chicago wasn’t going to faze him... not when his fate was already decided anyway. ‘So just quit rabbiting then, and get it over with.’

The big man in the cream suit walked away. ‘I intend to. But first, I’m gonna give you a chance to redeem yourself. So maybe if you come good you might get to keep hold of your sad little life.’

‘So after all this, you still want me to work for you?’ said Mickey, somewhat shocked that he might actually walk out of the spider’s web with his life intact. For a while at least.

Capone sat back