By S. Phillip Lenski
“So, Frank, where’s the two trucks we’re supposed to take to get that whiskey? The only thing in this garage are two old jalopies that Johnny’s been working on for weeks.”
“And a fine Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Pete.”
“Yeah, yeah. Happy Valentine’s Day, brother. But if we don’t get on the road soon, we ain’t never going to make Detroit by tonight. And I got a little red-headed someone waitin’ there for me to celebrate this special day.”
“You talkin’ about Loretta?”
“Brother Pete, who else do I know in Detroit who I might be wantin’ to spend a romantical night with me on Valentine’s Day?”
“That dame is going to be the death of you, Frank. You know she’s married.”
“Not happily, I hear. And, she likes me a heap more than that gear-head husband of hers.”
“Hey! Frankie! Watch what you’re sayin’ about mechanics.”
“Sorry, Johnny. I didn’t mean nothin’ by it. You’re a great gear head. I mean mechanic. Every job I pull, I want you checkin’ the engine. You’re the best.”
“Alright, you two. Cut the malarkey. What’s this you’re sayin’ about two trucks?”
“Bugs told us to come down to the Lincoln Park garage this morning to pick up two trucks and drive over to Detroit and get some Canadian whiskey the Purple Gang pinched from Capone’s boys. Right, Frank?”
“Why are you asking me, Pete? I didn’t talk to Bugs. I talked to Adam. He told me that’s what Bugs wanted.
“So, Adam talked to Bugs?”
“I don’t know. I guess so. All’s I know is I didn’t talk directly to the Boss, but that’s what Adam said the Boss said. Look, as long as I get to Detroit by tonight so I can spend the night with lovey-dovey Loretta, I guess I don’t care who talked to who.”
“Are you two bozo brothers sure Bugs even ordered this? ‘Cause ain’t no trucks been delivered here, and I ain’t heard nothin’ about that happening. And if’n they do get delivered, I’ll need to check them out before you drive ‘em out. Wait! I hear someone coming through the back door.”
“Well, look who it is! Is your ears burnin’ Adam? ‘Cause Frank and I was just talkin’ about you.”
“Pete and Frank Gusenberg! On time as always! And hey, Johnny! Where’s the trucks?”
“Jeez! That’s the $10,000 question, ain’t it? There ain’t no trucks, Adam. There ain’t been no trucks delivered this week.”
“What? Al Kachellek said Bugs ordered two trucks for Pete and Frank to drive over to . . . ”
“Al? I thought it was Bugs you talked to about this job, Adam.”
“No, Frank. I talked to Al. Al told me that Bugs wanted you and your brother to go get the Purple Gang’s whiskey in Detroit today.”
“This is startin’ to sound fishy, Adam.”
“Relax, Pete. Al’s walkin’ in right behind me. He’ll square things away.”
“He better. He’s Bug’s underboss, so he oughta’ know. Is that him now?”
“Well, in all my born days, I ain’t never seen such a motley crew. Hey ya, fellas!”
“Al, it’s good you’re here! We got the Gusenberg brothers ready to drive, Johnny May’s standin’ by to tune up the engines, and I’m here to send ‘em off. But we ain’t got no trucks. Any idea when they might be comin’ along?”
“That’s strange. The boss said the trucks was being arranged by Claude Maddox. He’s the one who told the boss about the booze.”
“Claude Maddox? Of Egan’s Rats in St. Louis?”
“Yes, the very one, Adam.”
“Well, that’s strange, Al. ‘Cause Egan’s Rats is all mixed up with Capone and his outfit. Why would Claude want to do business with us North Side boys? Don’t he know Bugs Moran and Al Capone ain’t the best of friends these days? Especially since Bugs has taken over a few of Capone’s saloons.”
“Yeah, Adam. Not to mention the little job Pete and I done on Patsy Lolordo and Scourge Lombardo a while back. God rest their souls. I’m kinda thinkin’ Al and Bugs probably ain’t likely to be doin’ any business anytime soon.”
“Yeah. Yeah, Frank. That’s all true. But Bugs just told me the other day that he thinks Claude’s leavin’ the Rats and Capone, and he wants to start workin’ for us North Side boys.”
“I don’t know about that, Al. That smells even fishier than the fishy stuff you was sayin’ before.”
“Fish or no fish, that’s the way it is, Pete. It’s what the Boss wants.”
“Someone else is comin’ in the back.”
“Johnny, you got ears like an elephant on ya. I didn’t hear nothin’.”
“Hey! Anybody else in this garage?”
“Reinhardt and Weinshank? What are you two wise guys doin’ here?”
“Hey ya, Adam. Al told us to come over to the garage this morning. Didn’t ya, Al?”
“Yeah. I told ya to get over here in case Johnny needed help with the trucks.”
“I think we’ll need their help more to unload the booze when Pete and Frank get back–if they ever leave. Right, boys?”
“Yeah, especially on account of Frank wantin’ to spend the night with his married girlfriend in Detroit.”
“Oh, hey, Frank? You been holdin’ out on us? Who’s the dame?”
“Ah, Adam. It ain’t nobody. Just a little redhead I know who works at Little Harry’s speakeasy named Loretta. And damn, Pete! Don’t go spillin’ the beans like that. It’s not supposed to be front page news.”
“The red-headed cigarette girl at Little Harry’s? She told me her name was Bonnie. I took her out on the lake last time I was over in Detroit and she . . . ”
“Wait a minute, Weinshank! Ain’t no way it’s the same broad. Yeah, she’s a cigarette girl, all right, but she’s sweet on me and nobody else. You hear?”
“It don’t matter, Frank. You can have your speakeasy girlfriend. And I hope you two have a real nice Valentine’s together. But these trucks? They matter. Because until they arrive, we’re all just standing here like a bunch of knuckleheads.”
“Wait! Someone’s pulling up in the front. Oh shit! It’s coppers!”
“Coppers? Are you sure Johnny? Hasn’t Bugs been payin’ those fellas off?”
“Al, you gotta settle this. We can’t have coppers comin’ into our garage like this and–”
“Everybody freeze! Chicago police! Get your hands where we can see them and move over to that wall?”
“Excuse me, officers. My name is Albert Kachellek. My associates and I work for Mr. Moran. Bugs Moran? I’m sure you know him. We were just conducting an executive meeting here.”
“Executive meeting? In a garage? I don’t think so, pal. Just move over there with your associates and face the wall.”
“Uh, Al, two more guys just walked in behind the coppers. They’re in suits, no uniforms.”
“I see that, Adam. I ain’t blind. Uh, officers? If I may ask, who are the gentlemen who just joined you? Are they detectives?”
“Yeah. They’re detectives accompanying us on our little raid here.”
“Raid? Officers, I can assure you that there is no contraband in this garage. Just a few cars that our diligent mechanic, Johnny Mays here, has been working on for Mr. Moran. We operate a legitimate business. In fact, all of Bugs’–I mean Mr. Moran’s–businesses are legitimate enterprises. Mr. Moran is a respectable citizen of this great City of Chicago, and we are all—”
“Save it, pal. Face the wall and put a sock in it.”
“Of course, officers. But there’s no need for this. And there’s certainly no need for lining all of us up in a row facing this dirty garage wall. In fact, if this is about you needing a contribution to the Widows and Orphans fund or something, I assure you we can clear up all of that right away.”
“Al, those two suits! They got Tommy Guns in their overcoats. They’re pulling them out now!”
“Officers!”
“I told you to shut your pie hole. We hear all of you have been involved a little typewriter ring.”
“A typewriter ring? That’s ridiculous! Put your guns down, officers! We’re not boostin’ typewriters. We know absolutely nothing about typewriters!”
“Not those kind of typewriters! I’m talking about these kind! Chicago Typewriters! And you’re about to get very involved with them.
“Good-bye, Loretta!”
“Fire, boys!”
Phil Lenski is an attorney and a South Carolina Administrative Law Judge. He was born in Kansas, grew up in Colorado, but has lived in South Carolina for the last 30 years.
Phil began writing in 2019. He has completed a novel, The Cyclist, and is attempting to secure an agent and a publisher. He has written numerous short stories, and three of them have been published in print and online journals. His story, “The Counselor Goes to the Flea Market,” was published in the 2021 Red Penguin Collection’s Treat or Trick Halloween Horror Stories. “Four Bodies in a Cornfield, appeared in 2022’s Black Cat Weekly, Issue #46. And “Just Deserts” appeared in the October 15, 2022, issue of Kings River Life. He is working on a second novel.
Phil lives in Columbia and has three adult sons.