—Chapter Nine —

Sitting in an Ashtray

“I

thought you left?” Felix said to Ruby.

“I did. —But halfway home, I made the cabby turn around and drop me back off,” replied Ruby.

“Why?” asked Felix.

“I wanted to find out what the police had found out about last night,” said Ruby.

“Well, I can drive you home and tell you everything on the way,” said Felix.

“What will you do?” asked Ruby.

“What do you mean?” inquired Felix.

“You had a look in your eye when you walked up to the automobile. What are you up to?” asked Ruby.

Felix stood there for a long moment before saying, “I’m going to find the person who killed Jack,” he said.

“I’m coming along,” she replied.

“I can’t say where this is going to head, Ruby. This might be more than I can bargain for,” said Felix.

“I will be fine, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Besides, I want to know how this all goes down,” said Ruby

“Okay. Hope in,” said Felix, opening the passenger’s door of the D19.

“Where are we going?” asked Ruby.

“Little Italy. —I want to talk to a fellow I met last night,” said Felix.

Felix filled Ruby in on what happened at the police station as he drove to Little Italy. He parked the D19 Speedster on the street as they got out and headed into an Italian restaurant. Felix asked to speak with Butch Hawes. The male host asked why, and Felix told him it was over $3,000. The man showed them to a table and said, “Butch will be with you in a moment.” Butch walked out of the back kitchen. He sat down at the table across from Felix and Ruby.

“I know you. You’re Slim, Tate’s pal from last night. What the HELL DO YOU WANT?” yelled Butch.

“I’m here to talk to you about Tate,” said Felix.

“Oh, yeah?” asked Butch. “So you got the money Tate owes me?”

“No. I’m here to talk to you about how you’re going to prison for murder,” said Felix.

Butch laughed out loud. “What murder?” he said.

“Jack Tate,” Felix said in a cold voice.

“What the Hell are you talking about?” asked Butch.

“Jack was murdered last night,” said Felix. “And I’m here to tell you —you’re going to be living the rest of your life in state prison,” he said.

“WAIT. Jack Tate is dead? —Is that what you’re telling me?” asked Butch.

“You understand damn well what I’m talking about,” said Felix. “You told Jack you and that Capone guy wanted him dead —and now he is.”

“Listen, Mac,” said Butch. “I had nothing to do with your wet-head friend’s death. —Besides, why would I want him dead when he owes me so much money?” he asked.

“Because you said the money doesn’t matter and you were going to,” Felix reminded Butch.

“Yeah? No way in Hell would I kill him,” said Butch. “I would have kicked the shit out of him before I would ever kill a guy.”

“That’s not what you said last night!” yelled Felix.

“I say a lot of things, Mac. —And, if I killed everyone who owed me money, the graveyards would be filled. Let’s get this straight. You’ll always pay what you owe me, without question. —But killing a deadbeat before they pay is BAD business,” said Butch.

“He’s making sense to me, Felix,” said Ruby.

“Hell ya, I make sense. —I would listen to your lady friend there, Slim,” said Butch. “I’m making sense of not killing your boy, Tate. We knew Jack was good for the money, AND he can afford the loss.”

Felix stood up from the table and said, “This isn’t over, Butch.”

“HELL NO, this is not over. —I still want MY MONEY,” shouted Butch.

Felix turned around and said, “If I found out that you had anything to do with this, I’ll —

“YOU’LL DO WHAT, SLIM?” shouted Butch. “Now you listen to me. If I wanted Jack Tate dead, I would send him an invite. So I wouldn’t have to run around the God damn city to find him.”

Felix turned and walked straight out of the restaurant. Ruby followed Felix as Butch glared at them to leave. Butch slammed his palms onto the tabletop and yelled out, “GOD-DAMN-IT.”

Felix stood in front of the driver’s side of his D19 Speedster as Ruby walked over to the passenger’s side and asked. “So, now what?”

“Butch said something that rang a bell for me,” said Felix.

“I don’t understand? What did Butch say?” asked Ruby.

“Butch said that he would send Jack an invite,” said Felix.

“Okay? —And that means what to you?” asked Ruby.

“It means I’m going back to the Blackstone Hotel,” said Felix.

Felix and Ruby did not talk while driving to the hotel. Ruby believed that Felix wasn’t much in the mood for talking. She, too, wasn’t in the mood to talk. Felix parked the D19 Speedster across the street from the Blackstone Hotel. They both walked in and headed to the elevator. Felix pushed the ‘up’ button. As they waited, Ruby finally asked the question.

“Why are we here, Felix?” asked Ruby.

“There was something that Butch said about an invite,” said Felix as the door opened. “I stepped on a handwritten envelope that had been slid under Jack’s hotel room door. I picked up the letter and handed the note to Jack. He placed the note into his smoking jacket,” he said as he pushed the fifteenth-floor button. “I never noticed Jack reading the letter last yesterday. —I’m wondering what that letter was about, and I want to investigate inside Jack’s room,” said Felix.

“How are you going to do that? —Break-in?” asked Ruby.

“No,” said Felix.

“Pick the lock?” she asked.

“No need —I have his room key,” said Felix. “The concierge gave the key to me yesterday. I forgot to return the unit to the front desk, but now I want to go up to Jack’s room and view the place for myself.”

Ruby didn’t say another word. The elevator doors opened, and they got off on the fifteenth floor and headed towards Jack’s room. Felix opened the door with his room key as Ruby stepped back. She appeared pale and said.

“I—I can’t,” said Ruby.

Felix cast an eye at her and down the hall to catch anyone around. “Okay, can you whistle?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Ruby.

“Good. Then you stand outside the room and whistle a song if someone is coming,” said Felix.

Felix stepped into the room and closed the door most of the way. He walked over to the chair where the hotel maid found Jack’s body. A bloodstain was on and under the chair where Jack bled out. Felix was expecting more blood at the scene. He continued to look around and saw that the tumblers were gone. But the hotel room appeared the same when Felix was with Jack twenty-four hours earlier.

Felix moved around the living area and investigated everything. He walked over to the desk and opened the drawer to find anything to give him a clue about what had happened last night. He closed the drawer, spotted the filled ashtray on top of the desk, and moved to the bedroom. The room was messy. Jack didn’t keep it clean. When the maids came to clean his room, he was always sleeping off a drunken night.

Felix opened the closet and hunted for the smoking jacket. He opened all the drawers and checked under the bed and furniture. —Felix found nothing. He sat on the bed and tried to remember Jack’s last place wearing the smoking jacket.

Felix recalled that Jack had taken off the smoking jacket as he walked into his bedroom. “He threw the jacket,” said Felix to himself.

He walked to the bedroom doorway, turned to face the bed, and imagined where Jack could have thrown his jacket. “Maybe the police have it and never mention it,” Felix thought to himself.

He pretended to throw the jacket. That was when he realized the jack would have hit the wall above the bed and slid down behind the headboard. He pulled the headboard away from the wall, making the smoking jacket fall to the floor. He picked up the jacket and found the handwritten envelope in the right pocket.

The front of the envelope said one word. ‘Tate,’ The envelope was never opened. Felix opened the letter, and it only said.

“We need to meet. Consider what you’re doing — you may regret it.”

A signature was at the bottom of the note, but Felix could not read the name. Ruby popped her head into the suite and called out to Felix in a loud whisper.

“Felix —are you almost done in there? Someone is coming,” said Ruby.

She walked into the room and softly closed the door behind her. She spied out of the peephole. She observed a man walk right up to the room door and place his key into the doorknob. She held her breath on the other side of the door as the man tried to unlock it. The door lock was stuck. Ruby had the doorknob tightly in her hand as the man on the other side pulled out the key, stared at it, and tried again.

Ruby now grabbed the doorknob with both hands even tighter. The man could still open the door, pull the key out of the knob, and step back. He examined the key and the door number turned; he then walked to the next door. He placed the key into that door, opened his door with it, and closed it behind him as he walked into the next room.

Felix walked into the room from the bedroom and asked, “Is there someone out there?”

“Not anymore,” said Ruby. “We should go, Felix —I don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Sure, I found what I was looking for,” said Felix. “Besides, there’s nothing more here that can help me.”

Ruby walked out when Felix said, “Wait,” as he turned back into the room.

“I can’t do this anymore, Felix,” said Ruby. “I’ll meet you in the lobby,” she said.

“Fine. —Go,” Felix said to Ruby.

She walked straight out towards the elevator and hit the down button. By the time the door opened, Ruby had noticed that Felix didn’t follow her. She got into the elevator and went to the lobby without him.

Something was bothering Felix. Something he saw in the room. As he was leaving the room, he stopped. He walked back over to the desk. He stared at it for a long moment, then again eyed the filled ashtray. There, he made out one cigarette that was not a Lucky Strike. Dead center in the ashtray was a Chesterfield cigarette —lipstick was on it. He took the butt out, examined it closer, and placed it in his handkerchief, then put both items into his front pants pocket.

Felix left the hotel room, closing the door behind him. He took the elevator down to the lobby, where he set eyes on Ruby waiting. He walked up to her.

“I still need to drop this key off at the concierge’s desk,” said Felix.

“Then do it, Felix. I told you I can’t be here anymore,” said Ruby. “I’ll wait outside by your automobile,” she said. Then turned and walked out of the lobby.

Felix headed towards the concierge’s desk. The man behind the table was filling out some paper forms.

The concierge glanced up and said, “Good afternoon, may I help you, sir?”

“Yes, I want to return my room key. I forgot to do it this morning,” said Felix.

The man took the key and scrutinized it, saying, “How did you get this key?”

“It was given to me yesterday —by you,” said Felix.

“The man’s face turns to blush. “Oh, yes. I remember you now. You’re the friend of Mr. Tate,” he said. Then he scanned the lobby before speaking. “ —I trust that no one else knows about this key?”

“Yes —why?” asked Felix.

“Well, in the state of confusion this morning. I may have forgotten to tell the police that I have given out a second key,” said the concierge.

“I could imagine. You and I are the only two people who can appreciate this,” said Felix.

“Right. May I express my sincere apologies for what happened to Mr. Tate? I can’t tell you how we all feel about what took place last night,” said the concierge.

“Thank you,” said Felix. “Can you tell me anything that may help me understand who may have done this to Mr. Tate? Felix asked as he pulled his money clip from his pocket and placed a ten-dollar bill on the counter.

The concierge glanced around to see if anyone was watching, then placed his entire hand on the ten. He slid the bill toward him, putting the money into his pocket as he said.

“As you already have caught on, Mr. Tate prefers to use an ally’s name when staying here,” said the concierge. “This isn’t unusual, mind you. Many of our guests wish to remain anonymous during their stay. Mr. Tate checked in two weeks ago and was going to check out this coming Monday. —May I ask how you are familiar with Mr. Tate?”

“We have known each other since we were teenagers,” said Felix. “You were about to tell me something worth my time?”

“Yes, sir,” said the concierge. “As I told the police, Mr. Tate came into the hotel early this morning, just after one. He went to the elevators and took one that was already sitting on the lobby floor. After five this morning, one of our hotel maids found his room wide open. She walked in announcing herself, and that is when she encountered Mr. Tate, dead in the chair. She screamed and ran out to call the front desk,” the man said.

“The gentleman on duty at the front desk ran up to see her in Mr. Tate’s room and called the police. He called our hotel detective, who was still asleep at home. By the time our Detective arrived, the police were already on the scene. Soon after, they declared it a homicide investigation. Our hotel detective is no longer involved in this case. The police questioned everyone. They told me that the room needs to be off-limits until further notice.”

“So you didn’t mention to the police about me and that I had a key?” asked Felix.

“No, I completely forgot I gave you that key until I saw you now just now,” said the concierge.

“Who watched Mr. Tate walk into the hotel lobby at one in the morning?” asked Felix.

“Only Mr. Claridge, he was on the night shift,” said the concierge.

“This Mr. Claridge —does he always work nights?” asked Felix.

“Yes, he’s the night manager,” the concierge replied.

“Was Mr. Claridge at the front desk all night?” asked Felix.

“No, for about twenty minutes, he had to go outside to deal with a fender bender,” said the concierge.

“What happened?” asked Felix.

“A drunk couple drove back to their hotel,” said the concierge. “Hitting an automobile in front of them while pulling up to the valet.”

“And no one else came in during that time?” asked Felix.

“No, sir, it’s the work week, and by that time of the night, everyone is in their rooms. No one came into the lobby or left until the police came this morning,” said the concierge.

“Did anyone hear anything in Mr. Tate’s room last night, like an argument or a gunshot?” asked Felix.

“No, not even a gunshot,” said the concierge. “Although one of the hotel maids found the pistol, the police believed the gun killed Mr. Tate,” he said.

“When was it found?” asked Felix.

“About ninety minutes ago,” answered the concierge.

“May I see it?” asked Felix.

“Sorry, no. We called the police on our findings, and a police detective came right away to pick it up,” said the concierge.

“Was his name McMann?” asked Felix.

Yes. Unfortunately, the hotel maid wasn’t aware that she shouldn’t touch the pistol. She left her fingerprints on it,” said the concierge. “The detective became quite red-faced mad about it,” he remarked.

“I could only imagine how he looked,” said Felix. “Did you see this gun, and do you remember what it looked like?”

“Yes, I did,” said the concierge. — “It was a .32 caliber semi-automatic Colt pistol, hammerless pocket model. It features a four-inch barrel, a blued finish, pearl handle grips, and western engraving on the stock, with the words’ ‘1922 Chicago Cardinals. It had its magazine, with one round missing. The muzzle still had the smell of fired gunpowder,” he reported without a doubt.

“My? For a concierge, you certainly have a certain bit of intelligence about guns,” said Felix.

“I was in the infantry during the war. And, I do like my firearms,” said the concierge.

“Is that right?” said Felix. “And where was this pistol found?”

“The hotel maid found the pistol in the trash bin when she was emptying it,” said the concierge.

“Which trash bin?” asked Felix.

“The back end of the hotel,” said the concierge. “Right in front of the stairs on the eleventh floor.”

“The eleventh floor? Is she sure about that?” asked Felix. “Mr. Tate’s room was on the fifteenth floor,” said Felix.

“Yes, sir,” answered the concierge. “The hotel maid even took the detective to the spot where she found the pistol.”

“The back end, you say?” asked Felix. “The opposite end of the hotel where Mr. Tate’s room was?”

“Yes, Detective McMann said he believed the killer left towards the back of the hotel. So no one would see him go,” said the concierge.

“Can you tell me anything else?” asked Felix.

“That is simple, all I know,” said the concierge.

Felix took out his reporter’s pad. Wrote his name and number on it, gave it to the concierge. He said, “Please call this number if you have any more info for me. This number is my house phone. Could you leave a message for whoever picks it up? —I’ll get it.”

“I will assuredly do that. Thank you, sir,” said the concierge.

Felix left the lobby and headed to his automobile across the street. Ruby was waiting next to his Speedsters, smoking a Chesterfield cigarette. Felix walked up to her, reached into his pocket, and pulled out his handkerchief.

“So? —Can we go now?” implored Ruby.

Felix unwrapped his handkerchief. Pulling out the butt of the Chesterfield cigarette, he said to Ruby.

“You were here last night,” said Felix. “On this butt is the identical lipstick you were wearing, and it was the same color on Jack’s neck. It wasn’t on his neck when we got back to the hotel. That means you came back and were with Jack after I left him in the lobby. —Didn’t you?” he questioned.

Ruby appeared stunned, dropping her cigarette onto the pavement. In a small voice, she said.

“Yes,” Ruby said.

“What do you mean, YES? Why did you say something?” asked Felix.

“I don’t know, Felix. I can’t believe Jack’s gone,” said Ruby. “This whole thing is like some horrible nightmare. —I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know what I should be doing?”