Read Online Dead Pigeon by William Campbell Gault - Free Book Online

can’t believe he had anything to do with Mike’s death, can you? I mean—a shotgun?”
    I shrugged. I said, “There’s a rumor that I picked up from a friend this morning that your cousin had a Mafia connection in Chicago.”
    He smiled. “It’s a rumor Tim circulated in Chicago, too. But it’s nonsense. One of my clients was a widow who helped to pay off my detractors, and she had Italian connections, if you get what I mean. She told me Tim’s rumor-mongering was the reason he had to leave Chicago.”
    “That makes more sense,” I said.
    He nodded. “I want to apologize for hiring those Arden people after your visit.”
    “You’re forgiven,” I said. “I think it would be wise if you steered clear of your cousin.”
    “I certainly will,” he agreed.
    I stood up and he walked to the door with me. He was still standing in the open doorway when I drove down his driveway to the street. If he had told the truth about his current relationship with his cousin, it bolstered my suspicion that Terrible Tim had been tailing me.
    But how could I be sure? Brokers and cultists and millionaire electronic preachers—it was possible that they begin to believe their own con as their audiences grow larger and their followers more fervent. Turhan Bay, as Crystal had suggested, might really believe in his own con by now. The yippies of the sixties were the yuppies of today and money was their dream. Not all of us have rich and dead uncles.
    I was relieved to see that there was no yellow Chevrolet pickup truck following me as I drove down Pico Boulevard. I turned left into Venice to learn if Denny had anything of interest to tell me.
    The only thing he had to tell me was that he had heard about my fracas with Terrible Tim at Tessie’s Tavern.
    “Who told you about that?”
    “Tessie. She’s on our bartenders’ bowling team. She said you were losing until Hovde took out his gun.
    “I was.”
    “To a fucking wrestler?” He shook his head.
    “Let’s talk about something else.”
    Which we did. It was still too early to pick up Lars. We talked about the Dodgers and about the upcoming finals in the NBA between our Lakers and the Bulls.
    Then, just before I left, he said, “I’ve been thinking about Mike. And I remembered he was the one who warned you about that guy who was out to get you. I don’t mean the last one. He’s dead. I mean about three years ago. What was his name?”
    “Gorman,” I said. “Tony Gorman.”
    “I remember now. If he learned that it was Mike who had alerted you, he’d have reason enough to blow Mike away, wouldn’t he?”
    “If he’s out and around. He got a six-year sentence.”
    “Which means, these days, that he probably got out three years earlier than he should have.”
    “It certainly does. Thanks, Denny.”
    “You’re welcome. If you go looking for him, you’d better take Hovde with you. If you can’t even handle wrestlers—!”
    I did not dignify his comment with a reply.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    A T THE STATION I told Lars what Denny had reminded me about Tony Gorman.
    “First things first,” he said. “I think I got a hot lead on Clauss this morning.”
    “I was thinking maybe you could find out if Gorman is out of jail now.”
    “Clauss first, damn it! The hell of it is I just had orders from the Chief to stay in my own jurisdiction. The stoolie who phoned me is the man I was talking with in Tessie’s Tavern. His name is Barney Luplow. I don’t have his address but Tessie probably knows it.”
    “Okay. I’ll go.”
    “Do that. But use some finesse for a change.”
    Advice on finesse from Lars? I sighed and left.
    Tessie was the only occupant of the place when I entered. “Now what?” she asked.
    “I came to ask if you have the address of Barney Luplow.”
    She studied me suspiciously. “Why? Is he in trouble?”
    “Not with me. But he might have some information that I intend to pay him for. And it might keep him out of trouble.”
    She stared at me for seconds.