The Sandie Shaw Mysteries: Book 9, The Sergeant, the Flapper and a Crossword: Sandie Shaw, #9

By R T Green

A man falls to his death in front of Sandie and Daphne. He's wearing an army cap, and in his pocket is a copy of The Tribune, open at the crossword page.

 

Sandie has no idea why, but she slips the newspaper into her bag before Frank and his officers reach the scene. It proves to be a wise move.

With no evidence to the contrary, his unfortunate death is written off as suicide, but Sandie is not so sure. She and the team set about unearthing the man's back-story, and bit by bit uncover a shocking tale of betrayal and dishonesty, and a second suspicious death that occurred in the same place, forty years earlier.

The clues are in the crossword, half-completed before he died. Can the team decipher a cryptic and complicated story, and grant him a posthumous kind of justice?

 

Read all about the Sandie Shaw series, and everything else we do, on the new rtgreen website.

 

And enjoy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wise Owl
• Release date: Jul 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223149996

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 of 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.

This time round, a man falls to his death right in front of Sandie and Daphne. He’s wearing an old army cap, and in his pocket is a copy of The Tribune, open at the crossword page.

Sandie has no idea why, but she slips the newspaper into her bag before Frank and his officers reach the scene. It proves to be a wise move.

With no evidence to the contrary, his unfortunate death is dismissed as suicide, but Sandie is not so sure. She and the team set about unearthing the man’s back-story, and bit by bit uncover a heartbreaking tale of betrayal and dishonesty, and a second suspicious death that occurred in the same place, more than forty years earlier.

The clues are in the crossword, half-completed before the man died. Can the team decipher a cryptic and complicated story, and grant him a posthumous kind of justice?

Enjoy!

Richard, Ann, and the crew

Chapter 1

‘I LOVE IRONY,’ DAPHNE chuckled.

‘Lucky you then. It doesn’t get any more ironic than that.’

The smile on her face grew wider. ‘When that obnoxious man walked into the office accusing his wife of corruption, I wanted to strangle him straightaway.’

I shook my head. ‘You judge people too quickly, Daphne. If I’d done that when you walked through my door the first time, we wouldn’t have been standing here now.’

Still she didn’t stop smiling. ‘Can’t argue with that. Maybe I do pre-judge... but then I take a little time to make sure my opinion is right. Or wrong.’

I slipped my arm into hers. ‘Okay, so this time I admit you were right.’

‘Why do you think I’m smiling?’

We were walking back from City Hall. The early summer morning was a beautiful one, and did rather match our mood. It might have had something to do with the irony of all ironies we’d just experienced.

The councillor in question was obnoxious, in the extreme. The first question in my mind was how the hell he’d ever persuaded anyone to marry him in the first place. Somehow he had, but then it was clear from the distaste on his face when he first walked into the office that the marriage had gone sour some time ago.

It likely wasn’t a one way street.

The wife in question also worked for the council, as a secretary. When her husband first outlined his suspicions to us, the thought entered my mind they weren’t suspicions at all, more the start of a subterfuge to get her out of his life.

We took the case, more out of curiosity than the desire to prove him right. It turned out to be an extremely satisfying job, hence the smile on Daphne’s face. And the smile on mine too, I was pretty sure.

We’d just been to visit the man, to give him our findings and collect our fee... while we still could. We’d left him with a little company.

Frank and his officers.

‘Comeuppance is a wonderful word,’ said Daphne, still grinning from ear to beautiful ear.

‘Isn’t that two words?’ I laughed.

‘Dunno. I’ll check when we get back.’

‘One or two, it’s still a wondrous thing,’ I said.

‘I knew almost as soon as we started investigating his wife she had done nothing wrong.’

‘Bet you didn’t expect what we uncovered then though, did you?’

‘You could say.’

We turned down the wide alley at the rear of the Chicago theatre. The shortcut would shave a couple of blocks off the walk. ‘You really should wipe that grin off your face, Daphne. People are starting to stare.’

‘Sorry, can’t. I never knew this job could be so much fun.’

‘As you well know, it usually isn’t. But getting our own client banged up for criminal activities might put potential clients off.’

‘Only unpleasant ones who have something to hide.’

A giggle escaped my lips, all by itself. ‘You’re right though, it was rather fun.’

Daphne shook her head. ‘That horrible man only engaged us because he thought a couple of mere women wouldn’t bother looking into things too closely.’

‘More fool him.’

‘I don’t need to tell you how he made my blood boil. A Ghanaian woman daring to be a private investigator in America... what is the world coming to?’

I laughed. ‘He soon found out you weren’t to be messed with, Daphne dear. I’ve never seen you so determined to find the dirt on anyone... especially a client.’

‘Luckily there actually was dirt to be found.’

‘I don’t think he’s seeing it that way right now. What started as a way to be shot of his wife ended up with him getting exposed for corruption.’

‘Serves him right.’

The alley led us past the Chicago’s rear stage door, and then the wooden commercial waste bins on the opposite side, which held unpleasant memories for me. Annoyingly, Daphne was grinning again. ‘Isn’t one of these where you had to hide when you were doing everything you could to prove my innocence?’

‘Yeah.’ I pointed. ‘That one there.’

She walked over and lifted the lid. ‘Phew... you hid in there?’

‘I was taken by surprise. There wasn’t time to choose a less smelly one. And it was dark.’

‘Oh dear. So you chose the one belonging to the Chinese restaurant and takeout by pure fluke.’

‘Are you trying to rub it in?’

She laughed, annoyingly, and peered inside the bin. ‘Oh dear... I think I’ve just gone off Chinese food.’

‘Um... why?’ I said, heading a little closer.

She slammed the lid back down. ‘You don’t want to know... okay, maybe you should know. There’s the carcass of a dog in there.’

I turned away, throwing a hand to my mouth. ‘Oh my god...’

‘Sorry.’

‘For... for a second I thought you were winding me up...’

She linked an arm back into mine. ‘Okay, okay... I am winding you up. There’s no dog in there.’

‘Daphne...’

‘You should have seen your face.’

‘Sometimes I despair at your sense of humour.’

‘You still love me though.’

It wasn’t a question. Even if it had been, the only way to answer it was with a resigned hug. We were a bit busy embracing our unbreakable friendship to notice what exactly happened next. We sure did notice the part of it that happened twenty feet away though.

Someone fell out of the sky, and thudded into the alley with a sickeningly final kind of noise.

Chapter 2

FOR A FULL FIVE SECONDS we stood rooted to the spot, still holding onto each other, unable to take in what had gone down in front of our eyes. Then we found movement, and ran to the body.

He was dead, the blood pouring from his head a clear indication of that. Dressed in scruffy clothes, an old army cap that had been on his head lay a couple of feet from the body. He looked like a vagrant, his feet clad in old brown army boots, likely because he had no other footwear at his disposal.

I knelt down next to him. ‘Daphne... there’s a phone booth just around the street corner. Please go and call Frank. He should be back at the station house by now.’

She nodded blankly, and ran off. I glanced up to the roof, five stories above me. I could see no one, leaning over the parapet, or next to me in the alley.

Had he jumped, taken his own life?

I looked him over. The old jacket he was wearing wasn’t army, but it was unbuttoned. I could see something stuffed into the inside pocket. I pulled out the copy of The Tribune, folded open at the page with the crossword. It looked to be half filled in. There was nothing in any of his other pockets... not a thing to tell me the identity of the man who looked to be in his fifties.

I had no idea why, but I stuffed the newspaper into my bag, unwilling to let anyone else see it. I already knew the overworked Chicago Police Department wouldn’t spend too long working out why a man who appeared to be one step short of a vagrant had decided to jump to his death.

He was likely to spend his last days before his pauper’s burial as a John Doe in the city morgue.

Somehow, that didn’t seem right.

If no one else did, I had to find out who he was, and what had made him jump.

‘Frank’s on his way. He says don’t touch the body.’

I glanced to Daphne’s fraught face, suddenly lacking anything resembling a smile. ‘Too late. I’ve already discovered he’s not got a single thing on his person to identify him.’

‘You think he jumped?’

‘Yeah, but there’s no way to tell right now.’

‘Poor man. I have a horrible feeling he reached the end of his rope.’

I glanced along the alley. Thirty feet away, a fire escape wandered right up to the roof. He wouldn’t have had any difficulty getting up there. The buildings running along the alley on the opposite side to the theatre consisted of retail outlets with a few apartments above, their frontages on West Randolph Street. From what I could see, the roof of the block was flat. An ideal launch pad to jump to your death.

‘We should get on that roof, see if anything suggests foul play.’

‘On... up there?’ Daphne looked horrified.

‘Well, that’s where the roof is.’

‘Shouldn’t... shouldn’t we leave it to the police?’

‘Why Daphne, don’t tell me you’re scared of heights.’

She threw me the stare. ‘Of course not. It’s just official procedure, that’s all.’

‘Since when have you been a fan of procedure?’

‘Well, you know...’

‘Come on, before the instigators of procedure get here.’

‘But... Sandie...’

There was a look in her eyes I’d only seen once before... when I’d been to visit her in Cook County’s Murderess Row. Something told me she wasn’t being entirely honest about her phobias.

It didn’t matter anyway. Frank and two of his men ran down the alley, and turned us into a small crowd surrounding the body.

‘Geez Sandie. I was only back in the goddamn office two minutes, and you’re calling me again.’

‘Actually, it was Daphne who called you.’

He shook his head, and stooped down next to the body. ‘Hell. Another jumper.’

‘Did he jump or was he pushed?’

He looked at me like I was a rookie cop. ‘Come on Sandie. Look at him. The poor guy sure as hell don’t have two cents to rub together. No hope, no future in this goddamn city.’

‘It still doesn’t mean he jumped, Frank.’

‘You got any reason to say that?’

‘None. We were just walking back to the office when he thudded to the ground in front of us. That’s the sum total of what we can tell you.’

He started to feel in the man’s pockets. ‘Already done that, Frank. Not a thing on him to tell us who he is.’

He clicked his tongue. ‘Then he’s a John Doe. Just another nameless soul who nobody loves.’

‘You don’t know that. We were just about to head up that fire escape to the roof.’

‘Good job I got here quick then. Sorry kid, you gotta leave this one to the police.’

‘What, to give it an hour of your time and then write it up as a suicide?’

He lifted his hands from his sides. ‘Hey, we got a big pile of serious cases right now, see? I’ll do what I can to identify him, but I can’t spend so much time on it.’

He directed one of his men to check out the roof, and asked the other to position himself at the corner of the alley to look out for the ambulance.

A small crowd of onlookers had gathered. Frank did his best to ease them away from the body, while Daphne and I stood around feeling like spare parts. One of the onlookers seemed to be paying more attention to the body than the others. A small, mousy kind of man in his forties, he was doing all he could to get a closer look, until Frank shoved him back.

He glanced around furtively, and then hurried quickly away.

Frank turned to us. ‘Okay you two. There ain’t nothing you can do here. Get yourselves back to the office. I’ll call you later.’

The distant bells of the ambulance told us that within five minutes the body of the unknown man would be loaded and driven to the morgue, where he’d have a ‘no identity’ label tied to his big toe, and be shut away into a body-sized drawer until he could be buried into an unmarked grave.

I slipped an arm into Daphne’s. ‘Come on, partner. Time we weren’t here.’

She wiped away a tear as we headed out of the alley.

‘Poor man,’ she whispered.

Chapter 3

JUST BEFORE WE LEFT the office for the day, the phone rang.

‘Sandie, just checking in to tell you what you already suspected. There was no sign of foul play, and not a single goddamn thing to identify the jumper. No one saw anything, so I ain’t got nothing to say it wasn’t another suicide.’

‘So he’s a John Doe then?’

‘Got no choice, kid. No spare manpower to investigate a whole lot of nothing.’

I let out a sigh that contained a lot more than one emotion. ‘Okay, thanks for letting us know, Frank.’