— Chapter Eight —

You’re Free to Go

“Y

ou’re telling me that Jack knew the killer, and he let him in?” asked Felix.

“Okay, Mr. Kendell, how about you let me walk you through what happened. Because this isn’t my first rodeo,” said McMann as he continued his narrative.

“Jack Tate came back to his hotel room sometime after one o’clock in the morning. We believe this because the front desk staff noticed him return to the lobby. After finishing a smoke outside, he headed to the elevator. Now, I’m saying that he went from the hotel lobby straight to his room on the fifteenth floor.

“Once in his room, Tate poured himself a drink and sat on the couch. This is because his shoes were found kicked off in front of the coach, as shown in this photo. Soon after, sitting down, he had to answer the door. As you’ll take notice, Mr. Tate’s drink was still full and sitting on the coffee table in front of the couch. The killer walked in, and Mr. Tate offered him a drink.

“Here —this photo shows the second glass, and the tumbler is also not touched. Both of these tumblers have only Mr. Tate’s fingerprints on them. You have to understand, the killer was clever and didn’t accept the drink. He didn’t want to leave fingerprints. It would have made things harder for cleaning up.”

“Cleaning up?” asked Felix. “What does that mean?”

“The killer didn’t have to clean up any of his fingerprints when he left the room,” said McMann. “The killer kept it simple. Not leaving fingerprints means the killer must have a wrap sheet. He is likely to have spent time in the big house. Mr. Tate put down the killer’s drink he poured for him, and they started talking. —What about? We have no idea. This talk must never have gotten into an ugly blow-up because no one awoke to an argument in the room. Meaning the killer wanted to murder Mr. Tate before he set foot into his hotel room,” he said.

“Why didn’t the killer shoot Jack when he opened the door?” asked Felix.

“Too risky,” answered McMann. “As I said, the killer is skilled in what he was doing. This wasn’t his first rodeo either. Once the killer got into the room, he could get a load of the room to find if anyone else was with Mr. Tate. Once in the room, he can pick the right moment to kill him,” he said.
“I understand —go on,” said Felix.

“Mr. Tate would now have to show that he was not afraid of this man. Nor distressed about the situation Mr. Tate found himself in,” said McMann.

“He did this by sitting down in the chair. It indicates that Mr. Tate wasn’t about to fight or flee from his killer. But instead, he would try to talk his way out of it. But the hitman was sent for one reason —to kill him.

“The killer lay eyes on the pillow that sat on the couch and took the opportunity to use it as a suppressor. He puts the pistol’s muzzle against it and pushes both the pillow and pistol to Mr. Tate’s head. Fires the weapon and leaves the room. More than likely, he did this in one smooth motion. —Because the place showed no signs of struggle,” he said.

“Why did the killer leave the door open?” asked Felix.

“To send a message,” answered McMann.

“What message?” asked Felix.

“The hotel maid would not have found him so fast with a closed door,” said McMann. “The killer wanted to announce he executed ‘the job.’ —Now we need to find out who would want Mr. Tate killed. When we figure out that piece of the puzzle —finding the hitman becomes easier,” he said.

“So you’re saying this may involve more than one person?” asked Felix.

“From my viewpoint, yes,” said McMann. “The person who wanted him murdered and also the killer,” he said.

“So, a professional killer murdered Jack?” asked Felix. “That means the person who hired this killer had the money or connections to do so?” he asked.

“It looks that way,” said McMann. “Would you have any knowledge of anyone who would want him dead, Mr. Kendell? Has anyone recently threatened him in, let’s say, the past couple of weeks?” he asked.

“Your question is really a loaded one, Detective,” said Felix. “More than one person may have wanted to harm Jack. The question you want to ask is, which one wanted him dead?” he said.

“Is that right?” said McMann. “Please go on.”

“Do you want me to start at the top of the list?” asked Felix.

“So, as for suspects, you have a list?” asked McMann.

“Yeah. Jack was a guy who liked the action, and he would get your coat tails a little muddy from time to time when he was having fun. I went to see him because we were roommates at Northwestern, and Mr. Badcock wanted me to find him,” said Felix.

“And who is this, Mr. Badcock?” asked McMann.

“He’s my boss and the chief sports editor at The Herald,” said Felix.

Detective McMann’s face got red. Suddenly, he stood up, slamming both hands onto the tabletop. Yelling out.

“You’re a GOD-DAMN REPORTER?” asked McMann.

“Well, yeah. —But, I’m a sports reporter. What does that have to do with anything?” asked Felix.

“EVERYTHING. —I would have never told you half of what I told you if I knew you were a GOD-DAMN REPORTER for The Herald,” said McMann.

“Well, you didn’t ask to see my press pass. So, how would I have known you did want to talk to me?” asked Felix.

“This isn’t an event, Kid,” said McMann. “You don’t have a press pass. Now, do ya?” he asked.

“No, I don’t,” confessed Felix. “If you don’t want to talk to me, fine,” he said as he got up from his chair.

“Sit back down, Mr. Kendell,” McMann said with a changed tone in his voice, “This is my fault for not figuring out who you were in the first place. —Please go on,” he said.

Felix sat back down and continued talking. “As I was saying, Mr. Badcock wanted the skinny on why Mr. O’Brien wanted Jack on his football club.”

“Who’s O’Brien?” asked McMann.

“He owns a professional football team on the South Side. They’re called the Chicago Cardinals, said Felix. “He contracted Jack to play for him this season. The problem is, The Herald believes O’Brien can’t afford Jack. —So why bring him onto the team? Wouldn’t Jack’s payroll bankrupt the club?” he asked.

“Okay, go on,” said McMann.

“By playing for O’Brien’s team, Jack had to also sign a life insurance policy. Which is worth more than what O’Brien is playing for Jack,” said Felix.

“Why?” asked McMann.

“Jack is a wild horse, and if he got himself killed —let us say in a car accident. O’Brien won’t lose his shirt. Because O’Brien is the beneficiary of Jack’s policy,” explained Felix.

“Okay, you said you have a list. —Who else?” asked McMann.

“Right —well, there’s George Stanley Halas and his partner Ed Sternaman,” said Felix. “They own a football team called the Decatur Stanleys. Halas asked Jack if a gun to his head would convince him not to play for the National Football League,” he said.

“So this Halas guy actually said —a gun to the head?” asked McMann.

“Yes,” answered Felix.

“And what is this National Football League?” asked McMann.

“This is an organization that Halas and O’Brien, with some other men, started. Think of it like the Major League but for football?” said Felix.

“So, they have professional players. A commissioner and owners who control these football teams?” asked McMann.

“Yes,” answered Felix.

“So who plays in this league? Is it a bunch of has-beens from college football players?” asked McMann.

“Some. But, most of the men are players who never played in college,” said Felix.

“Why didn’t they play in college?” asked McMann.

“The colleges have only so much money to give for football scholarships. Making it nearly impossible for high school players to compete in the college league. So, these guys find seasonal jobs, and in the autumn, they go play in clubs,” said Felix.

“Why?” asked McMann.

“I am not sure of the exact reason, said Felix. “Why do baseball players play in the Majors? Or why do golfers play in tournaments? —It fills a need,” he said.

“I can understand baseball, but professional football? It will never catch on,” said McMann. “Folks who like football like their college teams. Plus, there are more teams to choose from. How many professional football teams are in this league?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, a dozen —maybe?” said Felix.

“A dozen? Yeah, this cock-a-doodle lark will never catch on,” said McMann. “I can only imagine the expense of outfitting a team. Only to have a crowd not half the size of a college stadium,” he said.

“I can understand your point. But the professionals play on Sundays and the college teams on Saturdays,” said Felix. So in one way, they will never have to fight for the fans on the same day,” he said.

“I suppose,” said McMann. “Why would this guy Halas not want Tate to be in the league?” he asked.

“The league is so brand new that any lousy press could sink the organization,” said Felix. “And it sounds like Halas has too much invested in it to have things go teats-up,” he said.

“And Mr. Tate would have brought this unwanted press into the league?” asked McMann.

“We’re talking about ‘Cracker’ Jack Tate here,” said Felix. “When he played for Northwestern, the school was having a hard time keeping his name out of the papers,” he said.

“Well, the school must have some pull. —I didn’t see anything,” said McMann.

“That doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” said Felix. “The school had to hire an outside professional. Who, at one time, was a fixer for politicians to smooth things over for the university,” he said.

“Is that right? Okay —this helps. Well, Mr. Kendell, you’re right. It’s a list,” said McMann.

“Yes, but there are some others who may want to investigate,” said Felix.

“Are you serious?” asked McMann. “You have more than these folks?”

“Yes, one guy who works for a New Yorker named Al Capone,” said Felix.

“We know the name, Capone. Who’s this guy with him?” asked McMann.

“Butch Hawes. He’s one of the muscles for Capone. Jack owes three thousand dollars to Capone’s organization,” said Felix.

“JEZZUS! —Well, we also know Butch,” said McMann. “Anyone else who wanted Mr. Tate murdered?”

“One other guy was yelling at Jack. It happened early yesterday evening. When we were coming out of the Blackstone Hotel,” said Felix.

“Do you have a name?” asked McMann.

“Charles, but that’s all I have on him,” said Felix.

“Is there anyone else I need to know?” asked McMann.

“No,” answered Felix.

“Okay, Mr. Kendell,” said McMann. “Thank you for your help. Please let us know if there is anything that would assist us in this case. —Oh, one last thing, I’m sure you’ll keep what I said off the record. Right?” he asked.

“Detective McMann, I will write what I have to. It’s my job,” said Felix. “But, it doesn’t mean I have to reveal my source,” he said.

Detective Mann understood what Felix said and smiled. He nodded his head. “Fair enough. —Well, Mr. Kendell, you’re free to go.”

Felix walked out of the room and headed to the station’s front to find Officer Matt Copper. He saw Cooper finishing a report on a lost purse. When Felix came up to him, Cooper asked how the meeting with the Detective went.

“Fine, I guess, although it was my first ever interrogation,” said Felix.

“McMann is a good officer,” said Cooper. “Sometimes he’s not the easiest man to get along with, but he’s a good officer,” he said.

“Matt, can you take me back to Jack’s body?” asked Felix. “I wanted to see him one last time,” he said.

“Sure thing, Mr. Kendell, our autopsy doctor, is back and should be in his office. So it shouldn’t be a problem,” said Cooper.

“For God’s sake, Matt, we’re the same age,” said Felix. “Please call me Felix.”

Felix and Cooper walked back to the morgue. Inside the room was a small corner office where they found the autopsy doctor. Cooper introduced them. The doctor was a sixty-something-year-old man named Dr. Robert Kleinman. Felix asked the doctor if he could pull Jack’s body. Once Dr. Kleinman pulled his body, Felix looked at Jack’s neck. Felix asked if he could also examine Jack’s dress shirt.

“Sure thing,” said Dr. Kleinman. “The victim’s folded clothes are still sitting below his feet.

Dr. Kleinman pulled the body’s tray out further and picked up Jack’s dress shirt. Felix had the doctor hold the shirt collar next to Jack’s neck.

“Does that lipstick color look the same to you, Dr. Kleinman?” asked Felix.
“No, it doesn’t. The two lipstick stains are different colors,” said Dr. Kleinman.

Felix thanked Dr. Kleinman for his trouble. Officer Cooper and Felix left the morgue. As they walked back to the front entrance, Officer Cooper said.
“I don’t understand. Why did you want to inspect the lipstick stains?” asked Cooper. “What do the two colors mean?”

“I’m not sure what the two stains mean. I don’t remember Jack having a lipstick stain on his neck when I left him last night,” said Felix. “But he did have one on his collar from dancing with two women on a boat last night,” he said.

“And you believe that means something?” asked Cooper.

“I’m not sure,” said Felix.

“Well, is there anything else I can do for you?” asked Cooper.

“No, Matt, I’ll finally let you get back to your work. —Sorry for any problems that I may have caused you,” said Felix.

“No problem at all, Mister — I mean Felix,” said Cooper.

The two men shook hands, and Felix walked out of the police station in deep thought. As he approached his D19 Speedster, he saw Ruby Lansberry standing next.