Read Online The Big Kiss-Off of 1944: A Jack LeVine Mystery by Andrew Bergman - Free Book Online
Authors: Andrew Bergman
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Savage?”
Butler had his back to me, reaching deep into the safe.
“Excuse me, Jack. One second.” He pulled out some bills and closed the safe and pushed the Gershwin picture back to the wall. When he walked back to the desk, I realized that he had a slight twitch in his eyelid. I hadn’t noticed that the first time.
“Now, you said something about a banker.” He sat down.
“Yes. Eli W. Savage, from Philadelphia. When I was going through the Smithtown house, I found this clipping.” I got up and handed the newspaper photo to Butler. “It’s a long shot. I thought you might have heard of the guy.”
Butler stared at the picture for a few seconds. “Yes, I met him once about five years ago, at a party. It was after the Philadelphia opening of a show of mine called The Rainbow Hunters. But that’s the only time, I believe. He’s a big man in Philadelphia. You thought this picture might be important?”
“Beats me what I thought, Mr. Butler. It was the only thing left in the house and it was obviously cut out for a reason.”
Butler smiled. “Maybe this man is blackmailing Mr. Savage.”
“Could be. Or Mr. Dewey.”
“Yes,” and Butler started laughing, “yes indeed, Mr. Dewey. For making improper advances to a gangster.”
It was a pretty funny thought.
“Actually,” Butler said, leaning back in his chair and fiddling with a pencil, “Mr. Savage is a substantial contributor to the Republican Party. Blackmailing him would be pretty juicy, I’d imagine.”
I took a look at all those pictures of Butler with Farley, Lehman, and FDR.
“You must help out the Democrats quite a bit from the looks of those pictures. That’s pretty classy company.”
“Oh, Farley’s not so classy.” Butler tugged at his ear. “But FDR is a great man, Jack, and I’m proud to help the Democratic party any way I can. They saved this country and the whole free enterprise system back in 1933. That’s what nobody understands anymore; without FDR, there would have been a real revolution in the United States and we’d all be up the creek without a paddle.” Butler was getting a little agitated. He had leaned forward and was softly beating the desk with his left hand, emphasizing his points. “My old man died because those mines weren’t supervised properly, because he had to work twelve hours a day, because nobody gave a good goddamn about people like him. But now everybody forgets about that, forgets that there could have been a Red takeover. All they can do is bitch about the reforms he did make. People forget very fast in this country.”
I thought I’d push him a bit.
“Roosevelt got us into this goddamn war.”
“That’s infamous!” Butler screamed, half rising from his seat. The veins in his neck stood out so much you could count them. “I’ll throw you out on your ear, you goddamn tinhorn shamus.”
“You didn’t let me finish, Mr. Butler. I was saying that I’d heard people on the street say that, hackies, barbers, newsies, average Joes. They think FDR knew all along that we were going to get involved.”
“Well, they’re wrong.” He ran his hands through his silver hair. “I’m sorry I blew up like that, Jack. You found my weak spot. I guess that’s the mark of a good detective.”
“That’s what they taught us in detective school.”
He nodded distantly. “Well, let’s give you your money.” His composure had returned as suddenly as it had departed. I watched him count five twenties and held out my hand to receive them.
“Maybe this case is over or maybe it’s just suspended,” Butler said, “while our ‘Friend of the Arts’ is chasing after bankers or whatever. God only knows. That clipping you brought is intriguing, but I’m not sure if it ties in anywhere.”
“Either am I,” I told him. “It hardly even qualifies as a long shot.”
“Yes,” he said, a little vaguely, as if he wasn’t quite sure what I was saying. “In any case I’ll keep you informed of
Butler had his back to me, reaching deep into the safe.
“Excuse me, Jack. One second.” He pulled out some bills and closed the safe and pushed the Gershwin picture back to the wall. When he walked back to the desk, I realized that he had a slight twitch in his eyelid. I hadn’t noticed that the first time.
“Now, you said something about a banker.” He sat down.
“Yes. Eli W. Savage, from Philadelphia. When I was going through the Smithtown house, I found this clipping.” I got up and handed the newspaper photo to Butler. “It’s a long shot. I thought you might have heard of the guy.”
Butler stared at the picture for a few seconds. “Yes, I met him once about five years ago, at a party. It was after the Philadelphia opening of a show of mine called The Rainbow Hunters. But that’s the only time, I believe. He’s a big man in Philadelphia. You thought this picture might be important?”
“Beats me what I thought, Mr. Butler. It was the only thing left in the house and it was obviously cut out for a reason.”
Butler smiled. “Maybe this man is blackmailing Mr. Savage.”
“Could be. Or Mr. Dewey.”
“Yes,” and Butler started laughing, “yes indeed, Mr. Dewey. For making improper advances to a gangster.”
It was a pretty funny thought.
“Actually,” Butler said, leaning back in his chair and fiddling with a pencil, “Mr. Savage is a substantial contributor to the Republican Party. Blackmailing him would be pretty juicy, I’d imagine.”
I took a look at all those pictures of Butler with Farley, Lehman, and FDR.
“You must help out the Democrats quite a bit from the looks of those pictures. That’s pretty classy company.”
“Oh, Farley’s not so classy.” Butler tugged at his ear. “But FDR is a great man, Jack, and I’m proud to help the Democratic party any way I can. They saved this country and the whole free enterprise system back in 1933. That’s what nobody understands anymore; without FDR, there would have been a real revolution in the United States and we’d all be up the creek without a paddle.” Butler was getting a little agitated. He had leaned forward and was softly beating the desk with his left hand, emphasizing his points. “My old man died because those mines weren’t supervised properly, because he had to work twelve hours a day, because nobody gave a good goddamn about people like him. But now everybody forgets about that, forgets that there could have been a Red takeover. All they can do is bitch about the reforms he did make. People forget very fast in this country.”
I thought I’d push him a bit.
“Roosevelt got us into this goddamn war.”
“That’s infamous!” Butler screamed, half rising from his seat. The veins in his neck stood out so much you could count them. “I’ll throw you out on your ear, you goddamn tinhorn shamus.”
“You didn’t let me finish, Mr. Butler. I was saying that I’d heard people on the street say that, hackies, barbers, newsies, average Joes. They think FDR knew all along that we were going to get involved.”
“Well, they’re wrong.” He ran his hands through his silver hair. “I’m sorry I blew up like that, Jack. You found my weak spot. I guess that’s the mark of a good detective.”
“That’s what they taught us in detective school.”
He nodded distantly. “Well, let’s give you your money.” His composure had returned as suddenly as it had departed. I watched him count five twenties and held out my hand to receive them.
“Maybe this case is over or maybe it’s just suspended,” Butler said, “while our ‘Friend of the Arts’ is chasing after bankers or whatever. God only knows. That clipping you brought is intriguing, but I’m not sure if it ties in anywhere.”
“Either am I,” I told him. “It hardly even qualifies as a long shot.”
“Yes,” he said, a little vaguely, as if he wasn’t quite sure what I was saying. “In any case I’ll keep you informed of
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