Read Online Boystown 7: Bloodlines by marshall thornton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: marshall thornton
Ads: Link
conviction in March, but Operation Greylord had been in the papers for more than a year. Every agent in every agency was chomping at the bit to make a newsworthy bust. They all wanted to be a modern day Elliot Ness. That was half of what Operation Tea and Crumpets was about. It was also why they’d given it a cute, newspaper-ready name.
The murders they were trying to pin on Jimmy took place in 1972. A low-level member of the Outfit named Shady Perelli and his wife, Josette, were found dead in the trunk of their 1971 Cadillac Eldorado. The car had been parked in front of a Sambo’s in Downer’s Grove for three days. Perelli and his wife were both shot in the back of the head with a small caliber handgun. The murders were professional and there was little in the way of physical evidence. The exact murder scene was never discovered. The murder weapon was never found. There were no witnesses.
Murders of this sort often went unsolved, and when they were solved they were solved by someone in the Outfit turning State’s evidence. So the only thing Operation Tea and Crumpets had going for them was an informant who said Jimmy had ordered the murders and some kind of document that referred to them.
I had just one problem with that.
The most reliable way to solve a murder connected to the Outfit was to look at who benefited. Murders within the Outfit happened when one Outfit guy wanted to take over another Outfit guy’s territory, or when one Outfit guy was afraid another Outfit guy was about to go State’s evidence. The thing about murdering the Perelli’s was that I couldn’t see how Jimmy benefited. As nearly as I could tell from the files, Perelli wasn’t a threat to Jimmy. And I was pretty sure that in 1972 Jimmy wouldn’t have needed to take Perelli’s territory. The fact that Jimmy wouldn’t have gotten much out of the Perilli murders lent credence to the idea the Feds were attempting to pin the wrong murders on him.
Wednesday I was back in my office ready to work on Jimmy’s case. My plan had been to split my days half and half, but that hadn’t actually worked out. I’d spent the whole previous day on Madeline Levine and now owed Jimmy some time. It was seven-thirty in the morning. I’d left late enough that I was able to buy a fancy gourmet coffee at The Coffee & Tea Exchange. I got a large, which managed to stay almost hot on the walk over to my office and, unsurprisingly, tasted a whole lot better than the coffee from White Hen. The morning was overcast and cold. It was one of those days where it’s humid enough that you wonder if it might be drizzling, and you’re not sure until you wind up soaked.
I had a little trouble focusing on Jimmy’s case. For one thing, I was hungover. For another, I was annoyed. Even though he seemed to have just shown up in Brian’s life, Franklin was taking the kind of ownership that reminded me of someone who’d just gotten the keys to a new car. And worse, he wasn’t the friendly sort who wanted to give all his friends rides. No, he was the sort who wanted to keep the car spotless and to himself.
We were just about finished with dinner and I was halfway through my third scotch when I realized he hadn’t asked me a single question. In fact, he’d been doing a bang up job of not talking to me at all. He talked to Brian. I talked to Brian. We didn’t actually talk to each other.
“We should go to the dunes this summer,” Franklin said. I’d heard of them, but never been.
“That sounds like fun,” Brian said.
“What about going back to New York?” I asked. “Are you and Sugar planning another trip?”
“We’re talking about it.”
“New York is a horrible city. Dirty and crime-ridden.” Franklin’s disapproval had the finality of a door closing.
I’d never had a reason to go to New York so I couldn’t defend it. Though I was tempted to anyway. Particularly since you could say the same things about Chicago.
“Franklin works at a law
The murders they were trying to pin on Jimmy took place in 1972. A low-level member of the Outfit named Shady Perelli and his wife, Josette, were found dead in the trunk of their 1971 Cadillac Eldorado. The car had been parked in front of a Sambo’s in Downer’s Grove for three days. Perelli and his wife were both shot in the back of the head with a small caliber handgun. The murders were professional and there was little in the way of physical evidence. The exact murder scene was never discovered. The murder weapon was never found. There were no witnesses.
Murders of this sort often went unsolved, and when they were solved they were solved by someone in the Outfit turning State’s evidence. So the only thing Operation Tea and Crumpets had going for them was an informant who said Jimmy had ordered the murders and some kind of document that referred to them.
I had just one problem with that.
The most reliable way to solve a murder connected to the Outfit was to look at who benefited. Murders within the Outfit happened when one Outfit guy wanted to take over another Outfit guy’s territory, or when one Outfit guy was afraid another Outfit guy was about to go State’s evidence. The thing about murdering the Perelli’s was that I couldn’t see how Jimmy benefited. As nearly as I could tell from the files, Perelli wasn’t a threat to Jimmy. And I was pretty sure that in 1972 Jimmy wouldn’t have needed to take Perelli’s territory. The fact that Jimmy wouldn’t have gotten much out of the Perilli murders lent credence to the idea the Feds were attempting to pin the wrong murders on him.
Wednesday I was back in my office ready to work on Jimmy’s case. My plan had been to split my days half and half, but that hadn’t actually worked out. I’d spent the whole previous day on Madeline Levine and now owed Jimmy some time. It was seven-thirty in the morning. I’d left late enough that I was able to buy a fancy gourmet coffee at The Coffee & Tea Exchange. I got a large, which managed to stay almost hot on the walk over to my office and, unsurprisingly, tasted a whole lot better than the coffee from White Hen. The morning was overcast and cold. It was one of those days where it’s humid enough that you wonder if it might be drizzling, and you’re not sure until you wind up soaked.
I had a little trouble focusing on Jimmy’s case. For one thing, I was hungover. For another, I was annoyed. Even though he seemed to have just shown up in Brian’s life, Franklin was taking the kind of ownership that reminded me of someone who’d just gotten the keys to a new car. And worse, he wasn’t the friendly sort who wanted to give all his friends rides. No, he was the sort who wanted to keep the car spotless and to himself.
We were just about finished with dinner and I was halfway through my third scotch when I realized he hadn’t asked me a single question. In fact, he’d been doing a bang up job of not talking to me at all. He talked to Brian. I talked to Brian. We didn’t actually talk to each other.
“We should go to the dunes this summer,” Franklin said. I’d heard of them, but never been.
“That sounds like fun,” Brian said.
“What about going back to New York?” I asked. “Are you and Sugar planning another trip?”
“We’re talking about it.”
“New York is a horrible city. Dirty and crime-ridden.” Franklin’s disapproval had the finality of a door closing.
I’d never had a reason to go to New York so I couldn’t defend it. Though I was tempted to anyway. Particularly since you could say the same things about Chicago.
“Franklin works at a law
Similar Books
